Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Laboratories of Terror The Final Act of Stalins Great Purge in Soviet Ukraine 1St Edition Lynne Viola Full Chapter PDF
Laboratories of Terror The Final Act of Stalins Great Purge in Soviet Ukraine 1St Edition Lynne Viola Full Chapter PDF
https://ebookmass.com/product/corn-crusade-khrushchevs-farming-
revolution-in-the-post-stalin-soviet-union-aaron-t-hale-dorrell/
https://ebookmass.com/product/ukraine-in-transformation-from-
soviet-republic-to-european-society-1st-ed-2020-edition-alberto-
veira-ramos/
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-great-vanishing-act-blood-
quantum-and-the-future-of-native-nations-norbert-hill-jr/
https://ebookmass.com/product/echoes-of-terror-soule-maris/
Eyes of the Void (Final Architecture 2) 1st Edition
Adrian Tchaikovsky
https://ebookmass.com/product/eyes-of-the-void-final-
architecture-2-1st-edition-adrian-tchaikovsky-2/
https://ebookmass.com/product/eyes-of-the-void-final-
architecture-2-1st-edition-adrian-tchaikovsky/
https://ebookmass.com/product/heroes-of-the-final-frontier-
book-2-the-world-of-waldyra-litrpg-cycle-dem-mikhailov/
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-industrialisation-of-soviet-
russia-7-the-soviet-economy-and-the-approach-of-
war-1937-1939-2018-1st-ed-edition-r-w-davies/
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-logic-of-hatred-from-witch-
hunts-to-the-terror-1st-edition-jacob-rogozinski/
i
Laboratories of Terror
ii
iii
LABORATORIES
OF TERROR
The Final Act of Stalin’s Great Purge
in Soviet Ukraine
z
Edited by
LYNNE VIOLA
AND MARC JUNGE
iv
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197647547.001.0001
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Paperback printed by Lakeside Book Company, United States of America
Hardback printed by Bridgeport National Bindery, Inc., United States of America
v
Contents
Acknowledgments ix
Contributors and Translators xi
Glossary xv
Index 201
vi
ix
Acknowledgments
The project from which this volume derives began in 2010 at a con-
ference on Stalinist terror, convened by James Harris in Leeds, UK.1 Lynne
Viola presented a paper on the general subject of perpetrators. In response,
Marc Junge noted the existence and accessibility of key sources on NKVD
perpetrators in the Ukrainian SBU archives. Subsequently, in 2011, Viola and
Junge made an initial foray into the Kyiv archives. The volume of materials was
so vast that they enlisted a team of experienced scholars from Ukraine, Russia,
Moldova, Georgia, and the United States to join them in this research. These
scholars included Valeriy Vasylyev, Roman Podkur, Vadym Zolotar’ov, Serhii
Kokin, Andrei Savin, and Aleksei Tepliakov. At a later stage, they were joined
by Ol’ga Dovbnja, Igor Casu, Timothy Blauvelt, and Jeffrey Rossman. The
team published four volumes of archival documents, as well as an anthology of
articles, each in Ukrainian and in Russian.2 Although we completed the main
body of our work before the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022,
the project’s success was based on Ukrainians, Russians, and others working
together. The current, unprovoked war against Ukraine in no way detracts
from our successful collaboration, but it is a reminder of the dangers, still,
of dictatorial regimes. The chapters presented here are English translations
of the final results of this collective work, covering events in the Ukrainian
1. Conference proceedings were later published in James Harris, ed., The Anatomy of
Terror: Political Violence under Stalin (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013).
2. The published documents are in Marc Junge, Lynne Viola, and Jeffrey Rossman, eds., Ekho
bol’shogo terrora v 3 tomakh (Moscow: Probel-2000, 2017–2019) and, in Ukrainian, Vidlunnia
velkogo terror v 3 tomakh (Kyiv: Vidavets’ V. Zakharenko, 2017–2019). The anthologies
were first published in Z arkhiviv VUChK-GPU-NKVD-KGB, nos. 1–2 (2015) and then in
Russian as Marc Junge, Lynne Viola, Jeffrey Rossman, eds., Chekisty na skam’e podsudimykh
(Moscow: Probel-2000, 2017).
x
x Acknowledgments
Glossary
xvi Glossary
Glossary xvii
xviii Glossary
Glossary xix
Laboratories of Terror
xvi
1
Introduction
Lynne Viola and Marc Junge
Lynne Viola and Marc Junge, Introduction In: Laboratories of Terror. Edited by: Lynne Viola and Marc Junge,
Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197647547.003.0001
2
2 In t roduct ion
Introduction 3
4 In t roduct ion
Introduction 5
elements.” The totals for both operations listed some 522,774 “former kulaks,”
191,384 byvshie liudi, 168,286 “elements” without a defined occupation,
45,009 clergy, and 229,957 white-collar employees; out of these, a “mere”
99,188 were Communist Party members and 15,088 were members of the
Komsomol.24 From the 681,692 executions of the Great Terror, some 90 per-
cent were caught up in these mass operations.25 In Ukraine, at a minimum,
267,579 people were arrested and 122,237 of them executed in 1937 and 1938.26
Stalin publicly proclaimed the Great Terror to be a success. At the 18th
Party Congress in March 1939, he claimed that the nation’s purge had resulted
in the “final liquidation of the exploiting classes [okonchatel’naia likvidatsiia
ostatkov ekspluatotarskikh klassov].” He forcefully contested what he called
the foreign press’s contention that the purge had weakened the Soviet state,
labeling that kind of talk “banal gossip” (poshlaia boltovnia). Instead, he
claimed that the purge had created a new edinorodnost’, or internal unity, of
the Soviet people that made the Red Army stronger than any other nation’s
army.27 This is an important point because at no time in the 1930s or later did
Stalin renounce what has come to be known as the Great Terror.
z
Instead, Stalin renounced those Soviet officials, mainly in the NKVD,
who had violated socialist or revolutionary legality in the conduct of mass
operations. His renunciation led to the destruction of important clien-
tele or patronage networks within the NKVD. In Ukraine, NKVD boss
A. I. Uspenskii’s fall cleared the way for the arrest of his subordinates, just as
NKVD commissar Ezhov’s downfall prompted Uspenskii’s flight as well as
the destruction of Ezhov’s clientele network throughout the Soviet Union.28
Although the NKVD had been subject to purges earlier in 1937 and 1938 as
new NKVD leaders brought in their “tails” and destroyed preexisting clientele
networks, this particular purge was different. It did not feature accusations of
Trotskyism or counterrevolution, as in earlier NKVD purges, but served in-
stead to scapegoat the NKVD—or, publicly, elements within the NKVD—
for “violations of socialist legality” in the Great Terror.29 The NKVD purge
also resulted in what some historians call a “cadre revolution” in the NKVD
following the arrests of NKVD personnel who were, in turn, replaced with
a new clientele network—Beria’s—that would more or less remain in office
until Stalin’s death in 1953.30
This purge of the purgers resulted in a series of trials of NKVD operatives
under the jurisdiction of military tribunals that occurred throughout the
country. These trials proceeded under the aegis of Soviet justice, an often
6
6 In t roduct ion
oxymoronic designation in those times. Yet they had little in common with
the staged, show trials of the 1930s and nothing whatsoever in common with
the assembly-line troika processing of the victims of the mass operations.
Instead, these trials more closely resembled the wartime and postwar trials
of World War II collaborators and war criminals within the Soviet Union.
Scholars who have studied these later trials have concluded that, despite their
political and ideological imprimatur, they were, as Alexander Prusin writes,
held in full accordance with juridical norms and provided “relatively accu-
rate descriptions” of the war in the Soviet Union. According to Tanja Penter,
the wartime and postwar trials “served the Stalinist regime for its own legit-
imation inside Soviet society and abroad,” with pedagogical and symbolic
meaning. The trials of NKVD cadres at the end of the 1930s also revealed
a wealth of valuable information about the Great Terror as well as serving
pedagogical and disciplinary purposes in spite of the fact that there was scant
mention of them in the press.31
The NKVD trials were meant to have a disciplinary impact on the NKVD.
The relatively wide participation of NKVD operatives in these trials made
it highly likely that the substance of the trials was known among its cadres.
Their participation as witnesses and signalers meant that they knew what was
occurring at these trials locally. Certainly, they discussed these events with
other NKVD colleagues at the late 1938/early 1939 NKVD Communist
Party meetings and likely elsewhere outside of the trials given the frequent
violations of their secrecy agreements. The trials made it clear, above all, that
the NKVD, whether due to “institutional interests,” “clans” (i.e., clientele
networks), or a few “bad apples,” must be brought under the control of Stalin
and the Communist Party. Above all, they were intended to demonstrate that
Stalin was not to blame.
The trials also sent a message to the Communist Party. Stalin cast the
Party as the main victim of the Great Terror. Party members and other
elites played a prominent role in the trials, mainly as victims, sometimes as
victimized witnesses. The Party was given a key role to play in “correcting” the
violations and seeking out the transgressors in the NKVD.32 The Communist
Party would also hereafter serve, along with its youth wing, the Komsomol, as
the main recruitment pool for the new NKVD cadres brought in to replace
their disgraced predecessors.33 The trials were part of an emerging narrative
of Communist victimization in the terror, followed by the “restoration” of
Party control, a narrative traditionally associated with Khrushchev and his
20th Party Congress “secret speech” in 1956. The narrative pitted the NKVD
against the Communist Party, airbrushing away the majority of the Great
7
Introduction 7
Terror’s victims, who were neither Communist nor elite, and, importantly,
ignoring the central role of the leadership of the Party in the Great Terror.
The trials were Stalin’s symbolic gift to the Party, serving to relegitimize its
authority and its power following two years of its supposedly diminished
status.34
Stalin was well aware of the devastating impact of the Great Terror. He
certainly knew about its legion of victims as well as the extent to which the
terror was undermining local, especially Communist, authority. The victims
were not silent, either during or after the mass operations. They and their
relatives inundated higher authorities with literally hundreds of thousands
of letters of complaint. On 22 February 1938, USSR Procurator Vyshinskii
complained to Molotov that the USSR Procurator’s office was unable to
handle the volume of written complaints, noting that in the first twenty
days of February alone, it had received 40,000 of them.35 In 1938, as a whole,
the Procurator’s office received some 600,000 complaints related to the
terror.36 The Russian republic Procurator’s office was also overwhelmed,
receiving 700 to 800 complaints daily, and from February 1938, 50,000 to
60,000 monthly.37 The Ukrainian RepublicProcurator’s office received some
170,855 complaints between 1 January 1939 and 1 January 1940, of which
46,695 went to the republican offices of the procurator and 124,160 to their
oblast offices in sixteen Ukrainian oblasts. The Kiev oblast procurator re-
ceived 21,278 in the same period.38 These complaints represented the prover-
bial tip of the iceberg as victims and their relatives also besieged the offices
of Stalin, Ezhov, and a large range of other individuals and institutions at all
geographical-administrative levels. Needless to say, not all these complaints
came from Communists. Stalin, therefore, was fully aware of the pushback
against the mass operations.
The 17 November 1938 directive opened up a second floodgate of
complaints. News of the directive very quickly reached the prison cells of the
NKVD. Many prisoners, whose cases had not yet been completed, rescinded
their confessions at this time. This phenomenon was fairly widespread, ac-
cording to NKVD complaints, and continued into 1939. As a result of the
November directive, unfinished cases were transferred to the courts and pos-
sibly as many as 110,000 people, mainly Communists, were freed.39 In ad-
dition, some 77,000 purged Communists were reinstated into the Party.40
At the least, these transfers of cases and releases relieved the deadly prison
overcrowding of 1938 and the huge backlog of unfinished cases. At most, they
may have served to cover up old wounds and to further strengthen the narra-
tive of victimized Communists.
8
8 In t roduct ion
Stalin may also have been troubled by reports that news of the mass op-
erations had breached the information security perimeters of the NKVD.
Although at this point the evidence is far from conclusive, it is clear that there
was considerable “leakage” of the terror into the public domain. The trials
demonstrated the ways in which the sheer “noise” of terror reached the streets
from the NKVD prisons. Another type of leakage came with the appearance
of executed victims’ clothing at local markets as the wives of NKVD execu-
tion squad members tried to benefit from their self-proclaimed hard and dirty
work. NKVD operatives also lived at least for a time in the same general areas
as their victims, often leading lonely bachelor lives and residing in shoddy
Soviet hotels due to local housing shortages and frequent transfers. In the
town of Uman in Kiev Oblast, for example, the hotel became a center for
NKVD carousing and drunkenness. Here, there were also reports of NKVD
interrogators sleeping with prisoners’ wives in exchange for the privilege of ac-
cess to a loved one.41 In Moscow, according to Russian historian A. Iu. Vatlin,
the solution to the housing shortage was for NKVD operatives to move into
the victims’ former dwellings; outside of Moscow, this may have been a less
attractive prospect given the dismal state of the housing stock.42 Occasional
reports of “demonstrations” by prisoners’ wives also surface in the Ukrainian
documents, providing further possible evidence of “leakage” and suggesting
that some brave souls may have attempted to protest more publicly.43
The precise dimensions of public knowledge about the terror cannot be
demarcated. Still it is clear that there was leakage and Stalin must have known
and been worried about news of the terror leaking out. News of the mass op-
erations had also leaked out abroad. In the republican NKVD offices in Kiev,
there was near panic when the Munich agreement was reached in the fall of
1938.44 That agreement raised grave doubts in Stalin’s mind about the willing-
ness of the West to fight Hitler. Hedging his bets, Stalin may have realized that
war was approaching and it was time to end the mass repressions. The irony
here is that Stalin’s war against a supposed Fifth Column likely strengthened
rather than weakened his sense of international danger.
In any case, it is likely that Stalin utilized these trials to address the
grievances of selected audiences, mainly but not only elite audiences, while
transferring the blame for their grievances away from himself and on to desig-
nated groups and individuals within the NKVD. Perhaps he recognized that
in pursuit of the destruction of the much-touted Fifth Column, the terror had
begun to create seedlings for new columns. Perhaps he only cared about the
damage done to the Party’s credibility. Initially, Stalin had asked Vyshinskii,
the Soviet chief Procurator, to organize an open trial of leading NKVD
9
Introduction 9
10 In t roduct ion
Introduction 11
the NKVD experienced shortages of operative cadres during the mass op-
erations of the Great Terror, leaving it no choice but to expand its cadre of
personnel in the very course of operations. Students from the NKVD pre-
paratory schools were mobilized to help staff the NKVD organs. The NKVD
also made use of extensive auxiliaries directly in arrests, interrogations, and
executions— a motley crew of semiliterate regular police (militsionery),
NKVD couriers, chauffeurs, accountants, firemen, postal workers, and others.
In Ukraine, the NKVD underwent two purges before the final rout
of November 1938— following the removal of earlier NKVD Ukraine
commissars V. A. Balitskii and I. M. Leplevskii, who fell in May 1937 and
January 1938, respectively. These purges entailed removing the leaders as well
as their “tails,” or clientele networks, generally under the accusation of coun-
terrevolutionary activity. When Uspenskii took over the helm of the NKVD
in Ukraine, he too brought his clients, many of them extremely young, into the
leadership of the NKVD’s territorial units. Almost all of the leaders of oblast
NKVD administrations from about March 1938 were clients of Uspenskii.
When Uspenskii fell, the purge of his minions followed.
This constant turnover testifies to the extreme instability within the
NKVD. The purge of the purgers was only the final episode of this phenom-
enon. Its significance resides less in the numbers of NKVD operatives removed
or tried in court than in its function as a break on the Great Terror. The purge
of the purgers put an end to the existence of clan warfare in the NKVD.
Although one “clan” remained—Beria’s—Stalin remained firmly in control of
the NKVD, while insisting after November 1938 that the Communist Party
would remain the predominant authority in the Soviet Union. Some scholars
have also suggested that this purge may have resulted in the strengthening
of the Procuracy, the chief Soviet agency responsible for ensuring the obser-
vation of legality.52 While much still remains unclear about the causes and
consequences of the Great Terror, two things are clear: Stalin remained in
full control until his death in 1953 and there was never a mass purge of the
Communist Party again. At the same time, it is important to note that mass
violence against civilians continued, especially during World War II and its
immediate aftermath.
z
In the last two decades, scholars inside and outside the former Soviet Union
have been at work attempting to understand the dynamics and scope of the
Great Terror. Historians have carried out a series of valuable studies on the
prehistory of the terror, the machinery of repression, and the local and social
12
12 In t roduct ion
dimensions of the terror.53 Among the most contentious issues has been the
degree to which Stalin exerted control over the terror’s implementation.
While some scholars have argued that the terror was a closely controlled mass
operation, others have highlighted the local dimensions of the terror, center-
periphery conflicts, and societal input.54 Although the final word on this issue
is not in and may never be, it is clear that when Stalin called for an end to what
he labeled “violations of socialist legality,” the machinery of terror came to a
grinding, if sometimes reluctant, halt.55
Until recently, much about the Soviet perpetrator has remained fairly
opaque. Who participated in the violence of the 1930s? Who was complicit
and who benefited? This raises complex and broad issues that have not been
adequately studied. However, the research for Laboratories of Terror highlights
one particular group of perpetrators—mid-level NKVD operatives in Soviet
Ukraine. The greatest “gift” of this episode in the Great Terror is the doc-
umentation that it bestowed upon historians. Although we can glean valu-
able information about perpetrator motives and individual personalities from
the interrogation materials and trials, it is necessary to use these sources with
a great deal of care when discussing perpetrator motives. These sources are
clearly perpetrator documents; the voices of the real victims rarely surface.56
However, in the course of their own, often lengthy investigations, the NKVD
perpetrators detailed the story of the Great Terror in all its horrors. As such,
these sources present unique perspectives not just on perpetrators, but impor-
tantly on the mechanisms of repression, how the terror traveled from Moscow
to the republic and from the republic to the oblasts and districts. The chapters
in this book cast in fine relief the local and regional workings of the terror in
Ukraine, especially in 1938, but often with a look back into 1937 as older cases
were brought to bear against NKVD operatives.
The NKVD perpetrators arrested at the end of the Great Terror
constituted the leadership of the NKVD at the republic, oblast, district, and
city levels. The leaders of the NKVD administrations, along with their dep-
uties and the individual heads of key NKVD departments, tended to be the
primary targets for arrest. Individual chapters in Laboratories of Terror ex-
amine cases in the oblasts of Vinnitsa, Odessa, Nikolaev, Kharkov, Kiev, and
Zhitomir, as well as in the important NKVD Transportation Department
of the Northern Donetsk Railway. As Chapters 1 and 2 show, many of the
officials from these offices were targeted by their own former victims, almost
exclusively Communists and other elite victims released in early late 1938 and
early 1939. Significantly, they were charged not with counterrevolutionary
or Trotskyist activities as happened in earlier NKVD purges, but with the
13
Introduction 13
14 In t roduct ion
have been able to keep up with his assigned task of obtaining 100 preliminary
confessions a day.62 The very scale and scope of the mass operations deter-
mined many of its practices. Although Moscow created the infrastructure of
terror through policy and the intense pressure put upon NKVD subordinates,
it was up to the NKVD on the local level to implement the terror. To be sure,
NKVD perpetrators acted with an agency constrained by certain parameters,
but one which allowed for “creativity” in fulfilling orders that most, in fact,
believed would destroy real enemies. As Oleg Khlevniuk has written, “Just
because the center controlled the operations that made up the Great Terror
(and other similar operations) does not mean, however, that ‘elemental
factors’ and local initiative did not play a role in shaping them.”63 None of
them, moreover, were “ordinary men” in the sense of Christopher Browning’s
descriptions of members of the German order police.64 Soviet perpetrators
were instead trained military operatives long accustomed to strict hierarchies
and the use of violence and shaped by radical Stalinist ideology.
z
This book presents a series of regional microhistories that endeavor to docu-
ment the mechanisms of the Great Terror in Soviet Ukraine, as well as to illu-
minate its mid-level perpetrators. At a granular level of detail, these chapters
illuminate the darkest corners of the terror—the prison cells, the interrogations
rooms, and the execution chambers. They document the NKVD operational
and Communist Party meetings where operatives discussed process and pro-
cedure and, after November 1938, criticized their bosses. Individual chapters
present detailed biographical information about NKVD leaders, including
their activities, arrests, and trials, as well as their sentences and later fate when
possible. The authors suggest various determining factors for the actions of
NKVD perpetrators, including ambition, fear, authoritarian personalities,
belief in Stalinist ideology, the culture of the cheka, the need to “follow or-
ders,” and a variety of situational factors. Several chapters also explore the
causes and consequences of this final purge of the NKVD.
In Chapter 1, Valeriy Vasylyev and Roman Podkur explore the activities
of the Vinnitsa Oblast NKVD during mass operations. The focus of their
attention is on Uspenskii-appointed Ivan Mikhailovich Korablev, who led
the Vinnitsa UNKVD from May 1938 until his attempted suicide in January
1939, as well as his assistants Anton Iakovlevich Prishivtsyn, Aleksandr
Mikhailovich Zaputriaev, and Nikolai Stepanovich Butenko. Vasylyev and
Podkur document Koroblev’s activities and motivations as a chekist “con-
vinced that [he] was executing serious Party business.” Following their arrests,
15
Introduction 15
the main characters of this story are first sentenced to death, followed by
a commutation of their sentences to ten years in the Gulag. None of them
served their terms; instead, they were mobilized to the front in 1942, like
many other incarcerated NKVD operatives, and lived fairly normal lives after
the war. Vasylyev and Podkur also present information on the second wave
of arrests of perpetrators after Stalin’s death in the 1950s. In that phase, the
case against the Vinnitsa NKVD perpetrators was reopened, but ultimately
dismissed, showing the limited effectiveness of the “purge of the purgers.”
The authors demonstrate, importantly, that many Communist Party victims
of the purges, whose cases were incomplete at the time of the November 1938
directive, played a key part in the investigations of the NKVD in Vinnitsa by
sending waves of telegrams, petitions, and complaints to the authorities.
In Chapter 2, A. I. Savin and A. G. Tepliakov further investigate the im-
portance of the role of released Party and other elites in the NKVD purge.
Based on materials from Odessa Oblast, they argue that “the main share
of convicted NKVD workers found themselves under prosecution as a re-
sult of complaints from victims who survived and were freed after the 17
November 1938 directive.” These freed victims were largely members of the
Party with connections and status. The authors also note that the NKVD
victims of the Beria purge tended to be precisely from among those NKVD
operatives who worked specifically in the repression of Communist Party
members. According to Savin and Tepliakov, the Great Terror had resulted
in an imbalance “below” among mid-and lower-level NKVD workers who
came to perceive themselves as above the Party. Focusing on the criminal
files of important Odessa Oblast NKVD leaders like V .F. Kaliuzhnyi and
S. I. Gaponov and their subordinates, these historians view the purge of the
purgers as a rebalancing of power between Party and NKVD, while at the
same time never losing sight of the role of the highest levels of the Party
in the Great Terror. They see the Beria purge as a tool to discipline the
NKVD and follow the story of their main characters through and beyond
the war years.
Marc Junge’s focus in Chapter 3 is on Nikolaev Oblast, where there
were six trials of NKVD operatives for the violation of socialist legality.
Junge explores what arguably was the most important of these trials, that of
P. V. Karamyshev, the head of the Nikolaev UNKVD, along with three of his
associates. The story centers on a fire in one of Nikolaev’s sensitive defense-
related shipbuilding factories, which were under intense scrutiny in 1938,
and the two trials that followed Karamyshev’s arrest. Junge examines the
Nikolaev defendants’ defensive tactics at their trials, their self-image as “good
16
16 In t roduct ion
Stalinists,” the role of witnesses, and, ultimately, the death penalty served on
Karamyshev.
In Chapter 4, Vadym Zolotar’ov details the career of D. A. Pertsov who,
like many of the UNKVD leaders in Ukraine at this time, was a client of
Uspenskii. Pertsov was an expert in interrogating detained NKVD operatives
both in NKVD Ukraine and in the Kharkov Oblast UNKVD. He led by ex-
ample, frequently walking in on interrogations to threaten and torture those
who hesitated to confess. He also worked in the Polish operations. He ended
up working in the Naval Department of the Odessa Oblast NKVD before he
was arrested in November 1938. He was sentenced to fifteen years and died
in a logging camp in 1948, having been charged anew with counterrevolu-
tionary crimes, an unusual sentence during this NKVD purge, following an
earlier more lenient sentence of four years for “violations of socialist legality.”
The chapter, like many others, demonstrates the importance of personal
connections among different groups of NKVD workers.
Lynne Viola, in Chapter 5, examines the case against O. S. Fleishman, the
head of the Skvirskii district NKVD in Kiev Oblast, and M. M. Krivtsov,
a district-level regular policeman mobilized to work in the NKVD during
the mass operations. The chapter offers a view of the Great Terror at the dis-
trict and village levels, demonstrating the role of “witnesses” and the use of
regular policemen in mass operations. Fleishman, who did not admit guilt,
claimed to be following orders, as did the policemen working under him who
declared that they did everything “under the dictation of Fleishman.” Tried
in August 1940, Fleishman was sentenced to eight years and Krivtsov to six
years in the Gulag.
In Chapter 6, Serhii Kokin documents the unfolding of the Great Terror in
Zhitomir Oblast, following the cases of a series of mid-level NKVD operatives
purged before and after the November 1938 directive curtailing mass oper-
ations. In this oblast and more widely, the mass operations developed at a
pace and scope that almost predetermined the use of torture to obtain what
were fake confessions within a compressed period of time. Here as elsewhere,
NKVD operatives were charged with looting at the place of execution and the
removal of gold teeth from victims. Kokin surveys the results of the arrests of
NKVD leaders Grigorii Viatkin and Grigorii Grishin and speculates as to the
different sentences for various leaders, suggesting that the harshest sentences
were dealt to mid-level NKVD operatives, that is, the people directly respon-
sible in various operations. Kokin offers a reminder that, despite the arrest of
these NKVD operatives in the Beria purge, no one ever questioned the Great
Terror.
17
Introduction 17
Notes
1. “Postanovlenie SNK SSSR i TsK VKP (b) ‘Ob arestakh, prokurorskom
nadzore i vedenii sledstviia,’ ” in Tragediia Sovetskoi Derevni: Kollektivizatsiia i
raskulachinvanie. Dokumenty i materialy, 1927–1939 v 5 tomakh, ed. V. P. Danilov,
R. T. Manning, and L. Viola (Moscow: Rosspen, 1999–2006), tom 5, kn. 2, 307–
311 (further cited as TSD). The troika generally consisted of the leaders of the rel-
evant republic or regional NKVD, Communist Party Committee, and Procuracy,
though at times the subordinates of each could substitute for their bosses. For fur-
ther information on the troiki, see TSD, tom 5, kn. 1, 335–336.
2. Oleg Khlevniuk, “Party and NKVD: Power Relationships in the Years of the Great
Terror,” in Stalin’s Terror: High Politics and Mass Repression in the Soviet Union, ed.
Barry McLoughlin and Kevin McDermott (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003),
18
18 In t roduct ion
Introduction 19
17. Iunge, Vertikal’, 285; Iunge et al., eds., “Cherez trupy vraga na blago
naroda”: “Kulatskaia operatsiia” v Ukrainskoi SSR, 1937–1941 gg.: 1938–1941 gg.
Vtoroi etap repressii. Zavershenie Bol’shogo terrora i vosstanovelnie “sotsialisticheskoi
zakonnosti” v 2 tomakh (Moscow: Rosspen, 2010), tom 2, 23–25.
18. See Nikita Petrov and Arsenii Roginskii, “The ‘Polish Operation’ of the NKVD,
1937–8,” in Stalin’s Terror, ed. McLoughlin and McDermott, 154. For a copy of
the directive on the Polish Operation, see V. N. Khaustov, V. P. Naumov, and
N. S. Plotnikova, eds., Lubianka: Stalin i glavnoe upravlenie gosbezopasnosti NKVD,
1937–1938 (Moscow: Materik, 2004), 301–3, and, for the official view on “Polish
enemies” in the Soviet Union, 303–21. The German “national operation” was not
a part of the national operations per se, but began earlier, from 25 July 1937. See
Mark Iunge and Bernd Bonvech, eds., Bol’shevistskii poriadok v Gruzii v 2 tomakh
(Moscow: AIRO-XXI, 2015), tom 1, 205n21.
19. Petrov and Roginskii, “The ‘Polish Operation’,” in Stalin’s Terror, ed. McLoughlin
and McDermott, 154–55. See Timothy Snyder, Sketches from a Secret War (New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2005), for information on the POV and Polish
attempts, largely unsuccessful, to infiltrate Soviet Ukraine with a spy network.
20. TSD, tom 5, kn. 2, 163 (data for the period from 1 January 1936 to 1 July 1938).
21. The “special troikas” were established by Directive No. 00606, replacing
the dvoika used earlier in the National Operations. See “Prikaz No. 00606
Narodnogo komissara vnutrennykh del SSSR ‘Ob obrazovanii Osobykh troek dlia
rassmotreniia del na arrestovannykh v poriadke prikazov NKVD SSSR No. 00485
i drugikh,’ 17.09.1938,” in Bol’shevistskii poriadok v Gruzii, ed. Junge and Bonvech,
tom 2, 165–67. See also Khaustov, Naumov, and Plotnikova, eds., Lubianka. Stalin
i glavnoe upravlenie gosbezopasnosti NKVD, 1937–1938, 549.
22. Barry McLoughlin, “Mass Operations of the NVKD, 1937–8: A Survey,” in Stalin’s
Terror, ed. McLoughlin and McDermott, 141.
23. Petrov and Roginskii, “The ‘Polish Operation,’ in ibid., 161.
24. TSD, tom 5, kn. 2, 156–63.
25. McLoughlin, “Mass Operations of the NVKD,” in Stalin’s Terror, ed. McLoughlin
and McDermott, 141. For sentencing statistics, see Khlevniuk, The History of the
Gulag from Collectivization to the Great Terror, 290.
26. George O. Liber, Total Wars and the Making of Modern Ukraine, 1914–1954
(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2016), 187.
27. XVIII s”ezd vsesoiuznoi kommunisticheskoi partii (b). 10– 21 marta 1939 g.
Stenograficheskii otchet (Moscow: OGIZ, 1939), 16, 26–27.
28. On the eve of the November 1938 directive, when it became clear that Stalin was
about to bring down Ezhov, several key NKVD regional leaders fled or committed
suicide. Uspenskii fled on 14 November 1938 and remained a fugitive until his arrest
in mid-April 1939. For further information, see Lynne Viola, Stalinist Perpetrators
on Trial: Scenes from the Great Terror in Soviet Ukraine (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2017), 162–65.
20
20 In t roduct ion
29. Violations of socialist legality, or crimes of office, fell under Article 206-17 of the
Ukrainian Penal Code. Point “A” of the article dealt with minor offenses and could
result in imprisonment for a period of no fewer than six months; Point “B” was
more serious and could result in the death sentence. The equivalent article in the
Russian Republican Penal Code was Article 193-17.
30. Aleksandr Kokurin and Nikita Petrov, “NKVD: struktura, funktsii, kadry,”
Svobodnaia mysl’, no. 7 (1997): 111; and Khlevniuk, “Party and NKVD,” in Stalin’s
Terror, ed. McLoughlin and McDermott, 30.
31. For mention of the trials against NKVD workers in Moldova, see Kommunist
(Ukraine), 30 December 1938; 31 December 1938; and 1 January 1930. On the
war and postwar trials, see Alexander Victor Prusin, “‘Fascist Criminals to the
Gallows!’: The Holocaust and Soviet War Crimes Trials, December 1945–February
1946,” Holocaust and Genocide Studies 17, no. 1 (2003): 17, 21; Ilya Bourtman,
“‘Blood for Blood, Death for Death’: The Soviet Military Tribunal in Krasnodar,
1943,” Holocaust and Genocide Studies 22, no. 2 (2008): 258–59; Tanya Penter,
“Local Collaborators on Trial: Soviet War Crimes Trials under Stalin (1943–1953),”
Cahiers du monde russe 49, no. 2 (2008): 361.
32. Khaustov, Naumov, and Plotnikova, Lubianka: Stalin i glavnoe upravlenie
gosbezopasnosti NKVD 1937–1938, 663–64n92.
33. See Khlevniuk, “Party and NKVD,” in Stalin’s Terror, ed. McLoughlin and
McDermott, 30, indicating that of 14,500 new NKVD workers in 1939, over 11,000
were recruited from the Communist Party and Komsomol.
34. For more on this argument, see Viola, Stalinist Perpetrators on Trial, 166–71.
35. Iunge, Vertikal, 299.
36. “Zapiska komissii prezidiuma TsK KPSS v presidium TsK KPSS o rezul’takh
raboty po rassledovaniiu prichin repressii i obstoiatel’stv politicheskikh protsessov
30-kh godov,” Istochnik, no. 1 (1995): 84.
37. S. V. Mironenko and N. Werth, eds., Istoriia Stalinskogo Gulaga: Konets 1920-kh-
pervaia polovina 1950-kh godov v 7 tomakh (Moscow: Rosspen, 2004–2005), tom
1, 327–28.
38. Iunge et al., eds., “Cherez trupy vraga na blago naroda,” tom 2, 489, 511–13.
39. Khaustov, Naumov, and Plotnikova, Lubianka: Stalin i NKVD-NKGB-GUKR
“Smersh” 1939–mart 1946, 129–32, 564n11.
40. Khlevniuk, “Party and NKVD,” in Stalin’s Terror, ed. McLoughlin and
McDermott, 27.
41. For examples, see Viola, Stalinist Perpetrators on Trial, chapter 5.
42. A. Iu. Vatlin, Terror raionnogo masshtaba (Moscow: Rosspen, 2004), 85–87.
43. E.g., Haluzevyi derzhavnyi arkhiv Sluzhby bezpeky Ukrainy (State Archive of the
Security Services of Ukraine, further HDA SBU), f. 16, spr. 322, ark. 248–52.
44. HDA SBU, f. 5, spr. 43626 (sledstvennoe delo Grabaria), tom 3, ark. 297–98
(Protokol zakrytogo partiinogo sobraniia partorganizatsii osobovo otdela KOVO,
sostoiavshegosia 2 dekabria 1938 g.), tom 5, ark. 585, 595.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
with her handkerchief before starting. She had not adjusted the
music-stool. She had not pushed back the music-rest as far as it
would go. She had not played the chord and arpeggio inversions of
A flat major and paused dramatically before beginning the
composition of Liszt. All these things she had forgotten. People
would think she was an inexperienced player. Anyhow, she made up
as well as she could for her initial deficiencies during the progress of
the piece. She “swanked,” according to the popular expression. She
was very conscious of the effect her hair was or ought to be
producing....
As a matter of fact, nobody was either looking at her or listening
to her with any particular interest or eagerness.
She was awakened from her egoistic dreams by the half-hearted
applause of those people who by divine instinct know when a piece
is coming to an end several bars ahead, and start their applause at
the last bar but one.... She bowed graciously in front of the piano,
and tripped lightly behind the scenes. The applause did not justify an
encore.... She had made up her mind as she played the concluding
chords of the Concert Study: If I am given an encore, I will do all
those things I omitted to do before: I will polish my hands, adjust the
stool, push back the music-rest, have the sound-board lifted, run up
with arpeggios on the tonic....
But she was not given an encore.
In the artists’ room behind the scenes nobody took much notice
of her. Fred Hitchcock, a local tenor with baritone leanings, was
giving final frenzied directions to his accompanist, a large-featured
female with an excessively low and powdered neck.
“Go slow over that twiddly bit,” he whispered, catching hold of her
to lead her on to the platform. “And don’t forget to give me the
leading note in the adagio.” His hoarse voice merged into the buzz of
sound that came down the corridor leading to the platform.
She overheard a conversation.
“What was that thing that girl played?”
“What girl?”
“The girl with the red hair.”
“Oh, I don’t know—some Liszt thing, I think.”
“Classical?”
“S’pose so ... of course, nobody listens to pianoforte solos
nowadays....”
“They’re too common, that’s what it is. Everybody strums on the
piano, more or less.”
“I suppose you went to hear Razounov?”
“No, I couldn’t get a seat. The Hippodrome was full of people who
went to see him do something eccentric.”
“Did he?”
“No, as it happened. A friend told me he just came on the
platform, played like an angel for two hours, and went off again. Of
course everybody was greatly disappointed.”
“Naturally....”
“Bockley isn’t a musical suburb. It doesn’t even think it is.
Whereas Upton Rising thinks it is and isn’t.... I wish that pianoforte
player of ours wouldn’t show so much of her red hair and try to look
like a female Beethoven....”
“Oh, shut up—she’s probably somewhere about, she’ll hear
you....”
Catherine put on her hat and cloak and went out by the side door.
She was not angry, but she was suffering from one of those
periodical fits of disillusionment which were the aftermath of her
dreaming. She walked out into the Ridgeway, where the gas lamps
glowed amongst the sprouting trees. Far away she could hear the
clang of trams along the High Road. She passed the corner house
where, it seemed now an age ago, she had discovered her soul in
the murmur of a grand piano. Swiftly she walked along the tarred
asphalt, thinking to reach Gifford Road and have supper. She felt
disappointed. The evening had been lacking in that species of
adventure it had seemed to promise. She had not seen George
Trant. That, she told herself, had nothing to do with it.
Down the Ridgeway a newsboy came running bearing a placard-
sheet in front of him.
“Suicide of a Bockley Schoolmaster,” it said. An awful excitement
seized her. Eagerly she bought a paper and searched the front page.
It took some moments to discover the announcement. It was only
a small paragraph on an inside page: the placard had evidently been
printed to stimulate local circulation.
“Mr. Weston,” she read, “of 24, Kitchener Road, Bockley, an
elementary school teacher at the Downsland Road Council School ...
throat cut....”
She leaned up against the iron railing round a tree. Then,
discovering that she was attracting the attention of passers-by, she
walked on more swiftly than before. In her excitement she took the
opposite direction, towards the Bockley High Street....
§3
Half-way down the Ridgeway she met George Trant. They were
both walking excessively fast and in opposite directions: they almost
cannoned into each other.
“Just looking for you,” he said, stopping her. He wore evening
dress beneath an overcoat. It was peculiar that her eyes should glue
themselves upon an ivory solitaire that he wore. She was half dazed.
“Looking for me?” she echoed, vaguely.
“Yes. Thought you’d gone back to your digs. I was coming to
fetch you. What I want to say is——” (That was one of his
mannerisms of speech. In his letters he had constantly written,
“What I want to say is——”) “we’re having a little supper at the
Forest Hotel after the concert’s over. Just ourselves—the
performers, I mean. Of course you’ll join us.... I didn’t think you’d be
running off so early, or I should have mentioned it before....”
She was still staring monotonously at that ivory solitaire of his.
“Well—er—you see ... er....”
“Of course if you’re engaged for somewhere else——”
“No, I’m not engaged for anywhere else.” She paused, as if
weighing things in the balance. Then a change came over her. It was
as if she were suddenly electrified. Her eyes lifted and were found
shining with peculiar brilliance. Her body, too, which had been tiredly
swaying, jerked all at once into challenging rigidity. “All right,” she
said, and even in her voice there was a new note, “I’ll come.”
“Good.” He looked a little queerly at this transformation of her.
“Then we’ll go now.”
“But it’s not half-past nine yet. The concert won’t be over till after
ten.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ve got to go to the hotel to fix up
arrangements. You’d better come with me.”
“Right.” The promptitude of her reply had something in it of
riotous abandon.
“We’ll go by bus to High Wood and walk the rest. It’s sooner....”
Again she acquiesced, this time by a nod that seemed to indicate
an eagerness too great to be put into words.
At the corner of the Bockley High Street they took a bus. They
occupied the front seat on the top. The night was moonless, but
stars were shining over the whole sky. In front and behind stretched
the high road with arc lights gleaming like a chain of pearls. She
thought of that other evening when she had ridden with Helen along
this very road on the top of a crowded tram-car. She remembered
how in the passing glare of the arc-lamps she had read the note
which George Trant had enclosed for her. She remembered it all as
clearly as if it had happened yesterday, though in point of time it
seemed to belong to another age. She remembered the purr of the
quickly-moving car, the hiss of the trolley-wheel along the overhead
wires, the buzz of talk all round her, and the sharp, sickly sensation
of reading a few words in spasms and fitting them into their context
when the pale light merged into the darkness.
But even while she thought of these things she became greatly
joyous. She took off her hat and stuffed it into her pocket (it was of
the kind that yields to such treatment). Her hair blew in soft spray
about her head and shoulders, and her eyes were wet with the tears
that the cool wind brought. She remembered that once he had said
“My God! ... your hair! ...” He might not say it again, but perhaps he
would think it.
“I liked your playing,” he said.
“You did?”
“Rather.... I’m not much of a judge, but I can always tell a real
musician from a false one. The real musician throws his whole soul
into his music....”
“Did I?”
“Yes. I know you did. You played almost unconsciously. I believe
you forgot all about your audience. You were just playing for the
sheer love of playing....”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“Well, you’re wrong, anyway,” She laughed defiantly. “I didn’t
forget about my audience a bit: I kept on remembering them the
whole time. I kept on thinking: !Did they notice that little bit? ... I
polished off that arpeggio rather nicely; I wonder if anybody noticed
it....’ And as for throwing my whole soul into my music, I’m not so
sure—whether—even—whether——”
“Yes?”
She tossed back her head so that her hair danced like flame. The
bus jerked to a standstill.
“Whether I’ve got a soul,” she said very quickly. “Come on, we’re
at High Wood.”
They clambered down the steps.
“I’m sure you have,” he said, as he helped her off the conductor’s
platform.
“Oh, you don’t know anything about me,” she snapped, as they
entered the footpath through the Forest.
“I believe I know a very great deal about you,” he said quietly.
“Of course you believe so. Well, I don’t mind you telling me.”
He stroked his chin reflectively.
“Well, to begin with,” he said, “you’re passionate.”
She burst into sudden, uncontrollable, crackling laughter. In the
empty spaces of the Forest it sounded like musketry.
“I knew you’d say that.... I knew you would. And for the life of me
I don’t know whether you’re right or wrong. Every woman likes to
think she’s passionate. And nobody knows whether she’s any more
passionate than anybody else.... Pass on to the next point. You may
be right or you may be wrong about the last.”
“You’re impulsive—but good-natured.”
“Oh, rather. A kind heart beneath a rough exterior, eh?”
“I’m quite serious.”
“Are you? I’m not.”
She frisked along in front of him, revelling in the rustle of last
autumn’s leaves.
“Do you know what I should do if I were serious?” she asked
suddenly, when he had caught up to her.
“No.”
She walked a little way in silence, kicking up the dried leaves with
her toes.
“What would you do?” he said.
Her voice became fierce. “I should——” she began, and stopped.
She walked a few steps as if pondering, then she laughed airily and
tossed her head. “I really don’t know what I should do. Only I’m
certain of one thing: I shouldn’t be with you here.”
She could almost feel the extent to which her conversation was
mystifying him.
Then she became quiet and submissive, nestling like a stray
kitten at his side. She took his arm.
“I’m going to lean on you,” she said; “I nearly fell over a tree root
just there.”
He looked gratified. For three or four minutes they walked on in
silence. He had plenty he wished to say, but as a matter of fact he
thought this particular silence, coming when it did, rather impressive,
and he was unwilling to curtail it by a remark unworthy of its
profundity. He was engaged in thinking of that remark, a remark that
should not so much break the silence as guide it into still more
profound depths. He had almost decided on what he should say
when quickly and without any warning she snatched her arm from
his and scampered a few paces ahead.
“Oh, George,” she cried, with an extraordinary mingling of
passion and irritation, “do say something! For God’s sake keep up
the conversation! We’ve been a quarter of an hour without a word.
Say something, anything you like—only I can’t stand this mooning
about under the trees saying nothing!”
“You’re in a very extraordinary mood to-night,” he said
deliberately. He was genuinely disappointed.
“I am, or I shouldn’t have come with you,” she replied bluntly.
“Do you dislike me, then?” he asked, with a kind of injured dignity.
“Oh no—oh, don’t let’s talk seriously. I tell you I don’t feel serious
to-night.”
“Well, you won’t need to be. We’re going to have a very jolly
evening.”
“I hope so. That’s why I came. I feel like having a jolly evening.”
The Forest Hotel occupied a fine position on the crest of a thickly-
wooded hill overlooking one of the prettiest spots in Epping Forest. A
large balcony opened on to the dining-room, which was on the first
floor, and Chinese lanterns swung loosely from the ornamental
pilasters. As Catherine caught sight of the table, a vista of white and
silver and gleaming glass, she clapped her hands ecstatically. She
was as a little child in her enthusiasm.
“Oh, fine—fine!” she cried, clutching George once more by the
arm.
The table was on the balcony, and inside the dining-room the
floor had been cleared, presumably for dancing. A sleek grand piano
sprawled across one corner. Catherine rushed up to it and
immediately plunged into some rapid, noisy piece. It was a splendid
instrument, and the dim light (only the swaying lanterns on the
balcony were lit) threw her into rapture. George came to her side,
watching in admiration. Watching rather than listening, because, as
he had himself admitted, he was no judge of music. And also
because the red glow from the swinging lanterns kindled her hair like
a puff of wind on smouldering charcoal.
“There!” she cried, triumphant, as she executed something
difficult with her left hand. She swung into a dirge-like melody, tired
of it seemingly, and broke into energetic ragtime. George felt it was
in some way inappropriate to play ragtime at such a moment.
“Let’s come out on to the balcony,” he suggested, “we’ve only got
a quarter of an hour or so before the others come.”
“Well, we’ve nothing particular to do, have we?”
“It’s cooler.... Come on....”
They walked through the French windows and sat on the parapet
overlooking the gravel courtyard and the blurred panorama of the
Forest.
“It ought to be moonlight,” he exclaimed rapturously.
“No, it oughtn’t,” she contradicted. “I’m glad it isn’t. Starlight is
much better.”
It was not an encouraging beginning for him.
“Do you mind if I talk to you seriously?” he asked.
She laughed a little unsympathetically.
“Not at all, only I don’t suppose I shall talk to you seriously.”
“Then it’s not much good, is it?” he remarked, crest-fallen.
“No. Much better to talk nonsense. Let’s talk nonsense. Does one
eat oysters with a spoon or a fork?”
“I can’t——”
“But I want to know. I noticed we begin with oysters, and I’m not
sure what tools to use. Surely you don’t want me to make a fool of
myself. Come, tell me, how does one masticate oysters?”
“A fork is customary, I believe.”
“Thank you. That is what I wanted to know.”
There was a pause, during which the distant sound of voices
reached them from the dim Forest background.
“They’re just coming,” she said. “They must have come by bus,
like we did.”
He ground his heel into the carpet-matting.
“What I want to say——” he started suddenly. “It’s like this. I
believe there was a—a sort of—er—misunderstanding between us at
one time. Now I’m not prepared to say that I was altogether right. In
fact——”
“I don’t remember any misunderstanding. I think I at any rate
understood you perfectly. I really don’t know what you’re talking
about.”
“Well, to put it bluntly, what happened was——”
“Excuse me. I must let them hear the piano as they come out of
the Forest. Sorry to cut short our argument, but I don’t feel
metaphysical.... What shall I play? Something appropriate....
Suggest something!”
He sat rather gracelessly on the parapet watching her as she
skipped over to the piano. The expression on his face was one of
bafflement.
“I really don’t——” he called ineffectually.
For answer she began the pianoforte accompaniment of Landon
Ronald’s “Down in the Forest.”
A moment later over the fringe of Forest still untraversed came
the voice of the soprano singer, clear and tremulous, but not
particularly musical. “Down in the Forest something stirred,” she
sang, and Catherine laughed as she caught the sound....
§4
About twenty minutes to midnight the tenor singer (with baritone
leanings) whispered to George Trant: “I say, ol’ chap. You’d better
l’kafter tha’ l’l gaerl of yours.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Wha’ I say. She’s had too much.”
“But really, I don’t think——”
“Two glasses sherry, one hock, three champagne, two port ... I’ve
took notice.”
“She’s a bit noisy, I’ll admit.... But she was quite lively enough as
we came along. It’s her mood, I think, mostly.”
The party had left the table and split up into groups of twos and
threes. Some lingered sentimentally on the balcony; the violinist,
who was just a shade fuddled, lay sprawled across a couch with his
eyes closed. Catherine was at the piano, making the most
extraordinary din imaginable. Surrounding her were a group of young
men in evening dress, singers and comedians and monologuists and
what not. George Trant and the tenor singer stood at the French
windows, smoking cigars and listening to the sounds that proceeded
from the piano.
“We shall have the manager up,” said George, nervously.
“He’ll say we’re damaging the instrument.... I wish she’d quieten
down a bit. The whole place must be being kept awake....”
Catherine’s voice, shrill and challenging, pierced the din.
“Impressions of Bockley High Street—nine p.m. Saturday night,”
she yelled, and pandemonium raged over the keyboard. It was really
quite a creditable piece of musical post-impressionism. But the noise
was terrific. Glissandos in the treble, octave chromatics in the bass,
terrible futurist chords and bewildering rhythms, all combined to
make the performance somewhat painful. Her select audience
applauded enthusiastically.
George Trant moved rather nervously towards the piano.
“I shouldn’t make quite so much noise,” he began, but nobody
heard him. Catherine was crying out “Marbl’arch, Benk, L’pol Street,”
in the approved jargon of the omnibus conductor, and was
simultaneously making motor-bus noises on the piano. Everybody
was laughing, because the mimicry of her voice was really excellent.
George felt himself unable to raise his voice above the din. He
paused a moment immediately behind her back and then touched
her lightly on the shoulder. She did not heed. He touched her again
somewhat more violently than before. She stopped abruptly both her
instrumental and vocal effects, and swung round suddenly on the
revolving music-stool so as to face him. Her eyes were
preternaturally bright.
“Excuse me,” he began, and something in her eyes as she
looked up at him made him doubly nervous, “but perhaps it would be
better if you didn’t make quite such a noise.... You see, the other
people ...” he added vaguely.
There was absolute silence now. The last echo of the piano had
died away, and the select audience waited rather breathlessly for
what might happen.
Catherine rose. There was that greenish-brown glint in her eyes
that made fierce harmony with her hair. For a moment she looked at
him unflinchingly. There was certainly defiance, perhaps contempt in
her eyes.
“Who are you?” she said, with quiet insolence.
Somebody tittered.
George Trant looked and felt uncomfortable. For answer he
turned slowly on his heel and walked away. It seemed on the whole
the most dignified thing to do. Catherine flushed fiercely. Like a
tigress she bounded to his side and made him stop.
“For God’s sake, don’t sulk!” she cried wildly. “Wake up and say
something! Don’t stand there like a stone sphinx! Wake up!”
With a quick leap she sprang upwards and ran her two hands
backwards and forwards through his hair. His hair was long and lank
and well plastered. After she had finished with it it stood bolt upright
on his head like a donkey fringe. Everyone roared with laughter.
During the progress of this operation the interior door had been
opened and a man had entered. In the noise and excitement of the
mêlée he was not noticed. He was tall, severe-looking and in
evening dress. When the excitement subsided they found him
standing a little awkwardly on the edge of the scuffle.
Catherine thought he was at least an underwaiter, come to
complain of the noise they were making.
He bowed very slightly, and immediately everybody felt sure he
was a waiter. Only a professional could have bowed so chillingly.
Catherine, with flushed face and dishevelled hair, leaned against
a chair, panting from her exertion.
“I do not wish to interrupt,” began the stranger, and there might
have been sarcasm in his voice, “but I have been commissioned to
deliver a message to Miss Weston. Which is Miss Weston?”
“I am Miss Weston,” gasped Catherine. Then, to everyone’s
amazement, she proceeded furiously: “I know it—I know it. You
needn’t tell me! I saw it in the papers ... I suppose they’ll say it’s all
my fault.... Do they want me? ... if so, I’ll come. I’ll come with you
now if you like....”
The stranger raised his eyebrows slightly.
“I have no desire for you to come anywhere with me.... I don’t
know what you are talking about, either. My message is contained in
this note, and there is no immediate necessity to reply to it.”
Somebody said, rather in the spirit of a heckler at a political
meeting: “Who sent it?” The stranger turned and said: “I should think
Miss Weston and not I should be asked that.” The questioner
subsided ignominiously.
Catherine took the envelope that the stranger offered her. She
put it unread into her pocket. The stranger bowed and walked out.
Silence.... Then a chatter of conversation.
“Admirer of yours,” said the violinist, thickly, from his couch.
Everybody thought he had been asleep.
“Didn’t exactly get you at a good moment,” remarked the tenor
singer, flicking away his cigar-ash.
“Looked like an undertaker,” said the soprano.
“Or the ‘salary-doubled-in-a-fortnight’ man in the efficiency
advertisements,” put in the monologuist.
Catherine started to arrange her hair.
“I’m going,” she said, and walked towards the balcony (there was
no exit that way). Near the French windows she staggered and fell,
fortunately upon the cushions of a couch. They all crowded round
her. She did not attempt to rise.
“She’s drunk,” muttered the violinist.
“Possibly ...” said George Trant, bending down to her. “Fetch
some water. I think she’s fainted....”
CHAPTER VII
TRAGEDY
§1
ON the first of May the weather was very sultry. Downsland Road,
running past the front of the Council School, was both blazingly hot
and distressingly conscious that it was Friday afternoon. The road
was bursting out in little gouts of soft tar: costermongers were
arranging their wares for the evening’s marketing, spitting
contemplatively on the apples and polishing them afterwards on their
coat-sleeves. Children with clanking iron hoops converged from all
directions upon the four entrance gates of the Downsland Road
Council School, respectively those of the boys’, girls’, infants’ and
junior mixed departments. There they either carried or dragged them
surreptitiously along, for the trundling of hoops was forbidden in the
schoolyard.
At five minutes to two, threading his way past the groups of boys
and girls that littered the pavements and roadways, came the short,
stumpy form of Mr. Weston. He was shabbily dressed as usual, yet it
might have been said that he carried his umbrella somewhat more
jauntily than was his wont. In fact, people had lately been saying that
he was beginning to get over the loss of his wife.... At any rate he
passed the costermongers and their stalls in a slouch that was not
quite so much a slouch as usual, smiled pleasantly as he caught
sight of the announcement of a Conservative Club soirée, and had
just reached the edifice known as the Duke Street Methodist Chapel
when his attention was arrested by an awful spectacle.
The Duke Street Methodist Chapel, it may here be remarked,
was a structure of appalling ugliness situate in the very midst of
some of the worst slums in Bockley. Its architecture was that of a
continental railway station, and its offertories between a pound and
thirty shillings a Sunday. Inside the hideous building, with her back to
the blue-distempered wall of the choir, the late Mrs. Weston had for
many years yelled the hymns at the top of her voice.... And along the
brown matting of the left-hand aisle Mr. Weston, suave and supple,
collection-plate in hand, had in his time paced many miles.... Once,
when the church steward was ill, his voice had been heard aloft in
the reading of the notices. And at the left-hand door, while the
organist played the “War March of the Priests,” he had stood with
outstretched hand, saying:
“Good evening, Mrs. Lawson.... Good evening, Ethel.... ’Night,
Miss Picksley ... see you at the Band of Hope on Tuesday, I
suppose? ...”
He did not do that sort of thing now. In the chapel he was little
seen, and the Temperance Society knew him not. Only the Guild and
Mutual Improvement Society still counted him as a member, and that
was solely because they had not worried him into resigning.... At the
Guild and Mutual Improvement Society Mr. Weston’s carefully read
papers, once a session, on “Milton,” “John Wycliff, Scholar and
Saint,” “The Lake Poets,” etc., had been a well-known, but
unfortunately not always well-attended feature.
For over a year the fixture-card had lacked the name of Mr.
Weston.
And then, a fortnight ago—to be precise, on April 14th—Mr.
Weston had been stopped in the street by Miss Picksley, the
secretary of the Guild and Mutual Improvement Society. She had
said:
“Oh, Mr. Weston, do give us one of your literary evenings, will
you?”
Perhaps it was the subtle compliment contained in the phrase
“literary evenings” that caused Mr. Weston not to say “I am sorry, but,
etc., etc....” as quickly as he had intended.
Miss Picksley exploited the delay brilliantly.
“Good!” she cried, whipping out a pencil and notebook, “I’ll get
your name down for May 1st.... What’ll be your subject?”
“But, er ... I don’t ... er——”
“Something about literature, eh? ... Oh, do, please!” purred Miss
Picksley, making eyes at him. (She was really anxious for him to
accept, because she had canvassed in vain seven other speakers.)
“Tell me your subject, then it can go down on the fixture-cards.”
Mr. Weston, to his astonishment, lost his head and struck blindly
at the first literary name that came into his disordered mind.
“Shakespeare,” he gasped.
Miss Picksley departed, calling blessing upon his head.
§2
Now, as Mr. Weston passed the scene of so many of his former
labours, he felt not altogether sorry that to-night, in the schoolroom
adjoining the chapel, he would address a small but certainly select
gathering on the subject of “Shakespeare.” ... He would have liked to
have expanded the title of his paper into “Shakespeare, Man or
Superman?” after the fashion of a certain Methodist preacher who
occasionally visited Bockley. However....
Mr. Weston, it may be remarked, was feeling in quite a tolerably
good humour. He was beaming genially at the world in general when
a horrible sight met his eyes. Then his brow darkened into a frown.
The smile left his face; his lips tightened ominously. He stopped,
swung down his umbrella from its jaunty attitude, and stared. His
eyes flamed. The slope of his nose became full of menace.
For there, before his eyes, chalked up in scrawly writing on the
foundation-stone of the Duke Street Methodist Chapel, was an
inscription that excited his horrified attention. “This stone was laid ...
to the glory of God ... the Rev. Samuel Smalljohn ...” he read, and
“Let your light so shine....” And underneath that, in a space that
made it most conspicuous, the brutal legend: “Daddy Weston is a
Soppy Fool....”
Entering the Downsland Road Council School in a white heat of
indignation, Mr. Weston was just able to hear the sound of
suppressed laughter and scurrying feet as he entered the classroom.
The conviction forced itself upon him that somebody had been
watching at the keyhole....
§3
Mr. Weston was not normally a hot-tempered man. He was by
nature placid, servile, lymphatic. It was solely as a measure of self-
protection that he had trained himself to lose his temper on
appropriate occasions. It was part of his disciplinary outfit.
He stood glowering fiercely behind his desk.
“I want all boys who were concerned in the chalking up of those
offensive remarks outside the school to stand up.”
Pause. No result.
“I may say that I have already a very fair idea of who they are,
and I shall be most severe with those who do not acknowledge
themselves.”
(A lie, but Mr. Weston’s disciplinary system condoned it.)
“I may also say that for every half-minute I am kept waiting I shall
keep the class in half an hour after school hours. I have already
decided to keep the class in till five for keeping me waiting so long.”
Here Mr. Weston pulled out his watch and placed it prominently
on the desk before him. (This was mere theatricalism, as the watch
did not go.)
Pause. Then a warning shuffle and seven small boys raised
themselves.
Mr. Weston dived into his desk and produced seven coloured
dusters for cleaning blackboards.
“Come here,” he said to the seven.
The seven came.
“You will each take one of these dusters and go out into the street
and obliterate every one of the marks you have made. Then you will
return.”
It was Mr. Weston’s own invention, this disciplinary method.
§4
Slowly, ever so slowly, the afternoon crept by, and Mr. Weston
was just beginning to congratulate himself upon having proved equal
to the occasion, when an awkward but all-important fact occurred to
him. If you keep your class in you have to stay in with it. Mr. Weston,
of all people, ought to have learnt this lesson, yet somehow amidst
the heat and sultriness of the afternoon it had escaped him. For he
was tired, dead tired. And also hot. The sweat was rolling down his
forehead. Oh, how he wished he had said half-past four, and not five!
Confound it, why had he said five? Half-past four would really have
done just as well. Only, having said five, he was bound (by that
disciplinary code of his) to keep his word.
He took a sheaf of notes from his inside pockets and perused
them diffidently. “William Shakespeare.” It was to last about half an
hour, and as yet Mr. Weston had thought about William Shakespeare
only sufficiently for it to last twenty or twenty-five minutes. It would
have to be padded out. Something about the “immortal bard of
Avon....” On such a fine evening, thought Mr. Weston, the audience
would be small. Possibly about fifteen or twenty. There would be
Miss Picksley, the secretary, to receive subscriptions for the coming
session. Mrs. Hollockshaw would be there to play the hymn on the
American harmonium, and Mr. Sly would open with a word of prayer.
The Gunter girls would sit on the back row and flirt with the Merridge
boys. Possibly old Mrs. Cowburn would turn up. (Or was she dead
by this time?) ... After he had read his paper there would be a few
minutes for discussion. That would merely mean votes of thanks,
because he would take care not to say anything controversial.
Nothing about the Shakespeare-Bacon business. Then the
benediction given out by Mr. Sly. With luck the whole business would
be over by nine, and there would be time for a stroll through the
Forest at dusk. Or perhaps, though, it would be quite dark. Heavens
I Only twenty-five to five. Old Clotters was locking up in his room....
A ray of tawdry sunlight penetrated the dust and murkiness of the
atmosphere, bringing into prominence the rather obvious fact that
Mr. Weston was combining reverie with the observation of his class
through the interstices of his fingers. (This was an integral part of Mr.
Weston’s disciplinary system.) Ever and anon his eyes would focus
themselves upon a particular boy in the hope that if he were watched
long enough he would do something amiss. This happy
consummation was not long in coming. There was that boy Jones!
Jones was doing something. Surely, surely! ... Well, well, perhaps he
would do it again. There, he had done it.... His jaws had moved
perpendicularly twice within ten seconds. There could be no further
doubt about it. Jones was eating!
“Jones.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I will report you to Mr. Clotters on Monday morning. I will
not have this sort of thing going on in my class. Your manners are
those of the lower animals. Come up here and put what you are
eating into the waste-paper basket!”
§5
Punctually at five Mr. Weston locked his desk and prepared to
observe the solemn ritual of dismissal. It was in three movements.
“Attention!” called Mr. Weston, and the class looked at him
eagerly.
“Stand!” called Mr. Weston, and the class stood. But there must
have been some flaw in the standing, for Mr. Weston immediately
said, “Sit down again!” They sat down again.
“Now stand!” cried Mr. Weston, after a suitable pause, and this
time the manœuvre met with his approval.
“Three!” continued Mr. Weston, and at this mysterious direction
the class took a side-step into its respective gangways.
“First row—forward!”
“Second.”
“Third.”
When the last row had dissolved into the disintegrating chaos of
the corridor, Mr. Weston took up his hat and umbrella and walked
through the masters’ gateway into the frowsiness of Downsland
Road....
§6
In the hot kitchen of No. 24, Kitchener Road, Mr. Weston made
himself some tea and cut some bread and butter. He had not much
time to spare. He must add a few pages to his paper. Then he must
wash and shave and make himself respectable. During his meal he
thought once or twice of those old days when Laura, his wife, had
been there to get his tea ready for him, to fuss round the books and
papers he brought home, and to say: “Going out to-night, are you?
Because if not, there’s your slippers. And let’s ’ave your dirty
boots....” He thought, too, of Catherine: a little child, asking him
absurd questions, messing about with his exercise books, begging
him for half-used sheets to scribble on. But there was nothing
regretful in his thoughts of those past days. On the contrary, he
rather inclined to moralize: “I don’t know whether I’m not actually
better off than I was then. At any rate I’m free, and I can do what I
like. It’s not so bad, really.”
He wrote down a few sentences about Shakespeare.