impenetrable weapon, declared: know nothing about politics, I hate “I Trotsky, I am a Terrorist. Since childhood I have dreamed of being a Terrorist. I came to Moscow to become Comrade Tulayev’s mistress and kill him. He was so jealous; he adored me. I should like to die for the U.S.S.R. I believe that the love of the people must be spurred by overwhelming emotions ... I killed Comrade Tulayev, whom I loved more than my life, to avert the danger that threatened the Chief ... I can’t sleep for remorse—look at my eyes. I acted from love ... I am happy to have accomplished my mission on earth ... If I were free, I’d like to write my reminiscences for the papers . . . Shoot me! Shoot me!” During her periods of depression she sent her consul long messages (which of course were not transmitted), and she wrote to the examining judge: cannot shoot me because I am an “You trollop,” Gordeyev cursed, when he had spent three hours studying her case. Wasn’t she simulating insanity? Hadn’t she actually thought about committing a murder beforehand? Didn’t her declarations contain some echo of plans ripened by others? What was to be done with her, mad as she was? An embassy was taking an interest in her, news agencies on the other side of the globe distributed pictures of her, described the tortures which they claimed the examiners were inflicting on her . . . Psychiatrists in uniform, still faithful to the rite of question-and-answer, applied suggestion, hypnotism, and psychoanalysis in turn, to persuade her to admit her innocence. She exhausted their patience. then,” “Well Fleischman suggested, least persuade her that she “at
impenetrable weapon, declared: “I know nothing about politics, I hate Trotsky, I am a Terrorist. Since childhood I have dreamed of being a Terrorist. I came to Moscow to become Comrade Tulayev’s mistress and kill him. He was so jealous; he adored me. I should like to die for the U.S.S.R. I believe that the love of the people must be spurred by overwhelming emotions ... I killed Comrade Tulayev, whom I loved more than my life, to avert the danger that threatened the Chief ... I can’t sleep for remorse—look at my eyes. I acted from love ... I am happy to have accomplished my mission on earth ... If I were free, I’d like to write my reminiscences for the papers . . . Shoot me! Shoot me!” During her periods of depression she sent her consul long messages (which of course were not transmitted), and she wrote to the examining judge: “You cannot shoot me because I am an trollop,” Gordeyev cursed, when he had spent three hours studying her case. Wasn’t she simulating insanity? Hadn’t she actually thought about committing a murder beforehand? Didn’t her declarations contain some echo of plans ripened by others? What was to be done with her, mad as she was? An embassy was taking an interest in her, news agencies on the other side of the globe distributed pictures of her, described the tortures which they claimed the examiners were inflicting on her . . . Psychiatrists in uniform, still faithful to the rite of question-and-answer, applied suggestion, hypnotism, and psychoanalysis in turn, to persuade her to admit her innocence. She exhausted their patience. “Well then,” Fleischman suggested, “at least persuade her that she
The%20Case%20of%20Comrade%20Tulayev%20-%20Victor%20Serge.docx