last time in 1880) and is credited by some as a substantial influence on Most’s move toward anarchism.
76 The explanation by Berkman in regard to Peukert, below, needs a little expansion. Joseph Peukert (1855–1910) was a Bohemian anarchist communist. He had edited a paper in Austria before arriving in London where he joined the group that published Der Rebell. Later, as part of the Group Autonomie he published the paper Die Autonomie (1886–1893). He was an anarchist communist in contrast with Most’s social revolutionary and anarchist collectivist beliefs. Autonomists challenged the domination of the German anarchist movement by Most and his supporters, and instead advocated small groups with the freedom to work independently without central organization. Many of them had deep suspicions of leadership of any kind. The tensions then were political as well as personal. A critical part of these tensions was the role Peukert played in the arrest of Johann Neve (1844–1896). Both sides in this dispute respected Neve as a brave and selfless comrade, who regularly smuggled revolutionary material into Germany, risking his life by doing so. Fooled by a police spy, Peukert inadvertently helped betray Neve in February 1887 while Neve was in Belgium waiting to go back into Germany. His arrest was a major victory for the German police. Neve appears to have been driven mad in jail and died in Moabit prison in 1896. Accusations against what some saw as Peukert’s treachery flew thick and fast and, even though an anarchist commission in London cleared him of all suspicion, he never quite recovered his reputation in the eyes of some anarchists. This whole affair became known as Bruderkrieg, or Brothers War, and had substantial impact on anarchist circles in Europe and America. Most appears to have lost much of his belief in the efficacy of revolutionary violence after the Haymarket Affair while autonomists in America embraced the strategy wholeheartedly. For whatever reason, Berkman and Goldman appeared unaware of this change in Most’s thinking. It is also important to note that Peukert actually felt that the accusations against him were embroidered and sustained by friends and followers of Most, rather than socialists as Berkman suggests (see following Author’s note).
77 Author’s note: Joseph Peukert, at one time a leading Anarchist of Austria, was charged with betraying the German Anarchist Neve into the hands of the police. Neve was sentenced to ten years’ prison. Peukert always insisted that the accusation against him originated with some of his political enemies among the Socialists. It is certain that the arrest of Neve was not due to calculated treachery on the part of Peukert, but rather to indiscretion.
78 This took place towards the end of 1891 at Clarendon Hall, New York.
79 A reference to Ignaty Grinevitsky (1856–1881), who was a student and member of the Workers’ Section of Narodnaya Volya. Part of the attempt on Alexander II’s life on March 1, 1881, his was the bomb that killed the Tsar. Grinevitsky was fatally injured in the explosion and died later that day without providing any information to the police. It is unclear as to why Berkman saw Grinevitsky as “scorned by his comrades.”
80 In July 1883, after a sentence of hard labor and exile for life to Siberia, N. G. Chernyshevsky, was allowed to move away from Siberia to Astrakhan in July 1883 where he stayed until shortly before his death in 1889.
81 Joseph and Angelo Zappa were sentenced to death on November 28, 1892 for the murder of Frank Helmslett on July 4, 1891. Both claimed to be innocent although their case was hampered by their inability to speak English.
Chapter VII: The Trial
The courtroom breathes the chill of the graveyard. The stained windows cast sickly rays into the silent chamber. In the sombre light the faces look funereal, spectral.
Anxiously I scan the room. Perhaps my friends, the Girl, have come to greet me.… Everywhere cold eyes meet my gaze. Police and court attendants on every side. Several newspaper men draw near. It is humiliating that through them I must speak to the People.
“Prisoner at the bar, stand up!”
The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania—the clerk vociferates—charges me with felonious assault on H. C. Frick, with intent to kill; felonious assault on John G. A. Leishman; feloniously entering the offices of the Carnegie Company on three occasions, each constituting a separate indictment; and with unlawfully carrying concealed weapons.82
“Do you plead guilty or not guilty?”
I protest against the multiplication of the charges. I do not deny the attempt on Frick, but the accusation of having assaulted Leishman is not true. I have visited the Carnegie offices only—
“Do you plead guilty or not guilty?” the judge interrupts.
“Not guilty. I want to explain—”
“Your attorneys will do that.”
“I have no attorney.”
“The Court will appoint one to defend you.”
“I need no defence. I want to make a statement.”
“You will be given an opportunity at the proper time.”
Impatiently I watch the proceedings. Of what use are all these preliminaries? My conviction is a foregone conclusion. The men in the jury box there, they are to decide my fate. As if they could understand! They measure me with cold, unsympathetic looks. Why were the talesmen not examined in my presence? They were already seated when I entered.83
“When was the jury picked?” I demand.
“You have four challenges,” the prosecutor retorts.
The names of the talesmen sound strange. But what matter who are the men to judge me? They, too, belong to the enemy. They will do the master’s bidding. Yet I may, even for a moment, clog the wheels of the Juggernaut. At random, I select four names from the printed list, and the new jurors file into the box.
The trial proceeds. A police officer and two negro employees of Frick in turn take the witness stand. They had seen me three times in the Frick office, they testify. They speak falsely, but I feel indifferent to the hired witnesses. A tall man takes the stand. I recognize the detective who so brazenly claimed to identify me in the jail. He is followed by a physician who states that each wound of Frick might have proved fatal. John G. A. Leishman is called. I attempted to kill him, he testifies. “It’s a lie!” I cry out, angrily, but the guards force me into the seat. Now Frick comes forward. He seeks to avoid my eye, as I confront him.
The prosecutor turns to me. I decline to examine the witnesses for the State. They have spoken falsely; there is no truth in them, and I shall not participate in the mockery.
“Call the witnesses for the defence,” the judge commands.
I have no need of witnesses. I wish to proceed with my statement. The prosecutor demands that I speak English. But I insist on reading my prepared paper, in German. The judge rules to permit me the services of the court interpreter.
“I address myself to the People,” I begin. “Some may wonder why I have declined a legal defence. My reasons are twofold. In the first place, I am an Anarchist: I do not believe in man-made law, designed to enslave and oppress humanity. Secondly, an extraordinary phenomenon like an Attentat cannot be measured by the narrow standards of legality. It requires a view of the social background to be adequately understood. A lawyer would try to defend, or palliate, my act from the standpoint of the law. Yet the real question at issue is not a defence of myself, but rather the explanation of the deed. It is mistaken to believe me on trial. The actual defendant is Society—the system of injustice, of the organized exploitation of the People.”
The voice of the interpreter sounds cracked and shrill. Word for word he translates my utterance, the sentences broken, disconnected, in his inadequate English.