“The political prisoners are given the best part of the country to live in, namely, in the west. Other prisoners are exiled nearer to the icy regions according to the gravity of their offence. The political prisoners may practise handicrafts, and, by special permission, medicine. A ‘political’ is not identified with the criminal any more than a debtor is identified with a felon in England. Such offenders do not travel with other prisoners in a gang. A ‘political’ may be on a train going into exile; but no one knows it besides himself and the members of the police travelling in the same carriage. Politicals get about £1. 10s. a month from the government, but this varies according to the district to which they are sent. Wives who accompany their husbands are allowed 36 lb. of bread a month, but must submit to the regulations of the étape. If all goes well with a ‘political’ he gets permission to settle in some Siberian town with his family, but any allowance from the government then ceases. He is just the same as any other resident, save that he can never leave Siberia. If he wishes to farm, the government will give him a plot of land and money to work it. But this money must be paid back by instalments.” He states, as will be seen, “he can never leave Siberia,” but what, I fancy, was really meant by his informant was “never return to Russia.” We can hardly think, in a land where the executive is so indulgent as to allow a dangerous criminal to “week-end” with a friend, that they will be less considerate to a political of good character wishing to go to a better climate and letting it be understood that Russia would not be the place selected. There is the human touch about everything in that country of spacious and large ideas, and it is not lacking either in the treatment of political offenders or with other criminals and felons also.
Mr. Harry de Windt is not only explicit but even amusing and entertaining as he tells us what he found at Yakutsk, which is quite remote enough from civilization, on the great Lena post road, to make one feel that the lot of the banished there must be sad indeed; but at the same time we can enter a little, perhaps, into his feelings of amazement when he found that “the political exiles there seemed to be no worse off, socially, than any one else, for they moved about in society and were constantly favoured guests of the Chief of Police. The exiles, however, were not permitted to take part in the private theatricals I have mentioned, a restriction which caused them great annoyance. Their loud and unfavourable criticisms from the stalls on the evening in question were certainly not in the best of taste, and, to my surprise, they were not resented by the governor’s staff.” This incident will show that, in Yakutsk at any rate, the “politicals” are treated not only with leniency but with a friendly courtesy, which on this occasion was certainly abused. Mr. Olenin, an exile whose term of banishment was expiring, told me that he had no fault whatever to find with Yakutsk as a place of exile, so much so that he had resolved not to return to Russia at the end of his sentence, but to remain here and complete an ethnological work upon which he was engaged. I don’t think that “harshness and barbarity” are words that can be appropriately used for a discipline that permits attendances at “private theatricals” where politicals are so much at ease that they indulge in loud and unfavourable criticisms in the presence of the governor’s staff, and go out as favoured guests to dinner parties given by the Chief of the Police!
A few months ago, however, I had my last and great surprise as to Russia, in learning—what strangely enough is not yet known to many Russians of experience and official rank—that convict labour in mines is entirely abandoned now, and has been for some years! It was found to be both unprofitable and impracticable as modern ideas of mining advanced. It was clearly a great waste of time to march gangs to the “pit’s mouth,” as they call it in our own mining districts, and remove their chains before sending them down, putting them on when they came up again. Then no blasting is now done without dynamite; and that, clearly, was a dangerous substance to hand over to criminals. Again, they are of all classes, and but few could ever have worked in mines before, and not having either technical knowledge or experience, their work would be unprofitable. Convict labour below ground has been given up for some time in consequence. Prisoners now, when sent out to Siberia, are only required to work above ground, though they may go into the mines if they choose, and have fitness for the work, and can be trusted. They are all allowed and encouraged to hire themselves out, receiving the market price for their work, and so being able to obtain little comforts for themselves. As far as I have been able to consider the experiences of reliable authorities, I feel convinced that when able to see for myself I too shall say I would far rather serve a term of imprisonment with hard labour amongst the convicts of Siberia than in Dartmoor or Portland. There is far more of the human touch in the former, and a man does not suffer in his manhood in the same way there as he does in the English, French, Belgian, and Central American prisons I have known.
How, then, are we to account for all the well-known stories of miseries and sufferings associated with that lone, and in winter very terrible land? Most of us read in our youthful days Elizabeth, or the Exiles of Siberia, and since then have always spoken of “the Siberian mines,” and “banishment” with bated breath! How have such impressions so gained ground that the very name of Russia has taken us straightway out of Europe into Asia to thoughts of the severest and most hopeless criminal punishments in the world? I should say that the explanation is to be found, very possibly, in the methods used before arrest. What is called “administrative procedure” has long been the usual way of dealing with suspected political offenders. A man or woman is arrested, and without public trial is removed to Siberia, and there required to live under police supervision. Arrests are made at any time. “A man may be seated quietly at home with his family, in his office, or at some place of public entertainment, when a touch upon his shoulder summons him away.” There are no press reports of his trial or examination, which is conducted in private, nor any appeal from it, and there have been, and perhaps are still, cases where a suspected offender’s family remain in ignorance of what has happened to him, or where he is. The thought of such a disappearance from the midst of family and friends is enough to chill any heart, and even if Russia does consider it necessary to deal thus summarily with those who are enemies of social order and the well-being of the State, without being unduly harsh in her treatment of them when they are exiled, one may very well hope that what have been called the “underground methods” of her police may soon be entirely laid aside. It is still consistent, I submit, with the aim of a paternal government to remove at once, and with no uncertain or hesitating hand, those who are considered the most dangerous elements in its social life, and the enemies of its stability and well-being.
It was in Siberia, however, that I learnt the positive side of Russia’s care for her peasant and working population. There I found, as soon as I looked into the working of a great company, that it was necessary to have a Russian engineer, in addition to the one employed by the staff, who is held responsible by the governor of the district for the inspection of all machinery and the arrangements made for securing those employed from unnecessary risk and danger. A police officer of a superior class is attached to the staff also, not only to maintain order, but to receive any complaints and transmit them if serious to higher authorities. The government distinctly interferes in order to guard the interests of its working class, and though sometimes the presence of another engineer or the police official may seem irksome, our countrymen recognize loyally that the government have no wish to be vexatious, but only to fulfil their duty to their own people.
Then next I found, also in Siberia, how extraordinarily kind and helpful all officials are to colonists, who are not always easy to deal with when travelling or settling down in a new country. They take things for granted and expect much, and yet are never disappointed; officials of every class, and especially on railways, being unfailing in patience, tact, good-nature, and good-humour. The working folk on a train, in their third or fourth classes, are always treated with indulgence and kindly consideration.
A Group of Russian Peasants.
I read the following in the Statist last year, finding later that it was contributed by a friend of mine:—