“Ay,” said he, “that is, as you suppose me to be a lord, or a prince, &c. So indeed I am; but you are now to consider me only as a man, a human creature, not at all distinguished from another; and so I can suffer no want, unless I should be visited with sickness and distempers. However, to put the question out of dispute; you see our manner; we are in this place five persons of rank; we live perfectly retired; as suited to a state of banishment; we have something rescued from the shipwreck of our fortunes, which keeps us from the mere necessity of hunting for our food; but the poor soldiers who are here, without that help, live in as much plenty as we. They go into the woods, and catch sables and foxes; the labour of a month will maintain them a year; and as the way of living is not expensive, so it is not hard to get sufficient to ourselves: so that objection is out of doors.”
I have no room to give a full account of the most agreeable conversation I had with this truly great man; in all which he shewed, that his mind was so inspired with a superior knowledge of things, so supported by religion, as well as by a vast share of wisdom, that his contempt of the world was really as much as he had expressed, and that he was always the same to the last, as will appear in the story I am going to tell.
I had been here eight months, and a dark dreadful winter I thought it to be. The cold was so intense, that I could not so much as look abroad without being wrapt in furs, and a mask of fur before my face, or rather a hood, with only a hole for breath, and two for sight. The little daylight we had, as we reckoned, for three months, not above five hours a day, or six at most; only that the snow lying on the ground continually, and the weather being clear, it was never quite dark. Our horses were kept (or rather starved) under ground; and as for our servants, (for we hired servants here to look after our horses and ourselves) we had every now and then their fingers and toes to thaw, and take care of, lest they should mortify and fall off.
It is true, within doors we were warm, the houses being close, the walls thick, the lights small, and the glass all double. Our food was chiefly the flesh of deer, dried and cured in the season; good bread enough, but baked as biscuits; dried fish of several sorts, and some flesh of mutton, and of buffaloes, which is pretty good beef. All the stores of provision for the winter are laid up in the summer, and well cured. Our drink was water mixed with aqua vitæ instead of brandy; and, for a treat, mead instead of wine; which, however, they have excellent good. The hunters, who ventured abroad all weathers, frequently brought us in fresh venison, very fat and good; and sometimes bear’s flesh, but we did not much care for the last. We had a good stock of tea, with which we treated our friends as above; and, in a word, we lived very cheerfully and well, all things considered.
It was now March, and the days grown considerably longer, and the weather at least tolerable; so other travellers began to prepare sledges to carry them over the snow, and to get things ready to be going; but my measures being fixed, as I have said, for Archangel, and not for Muscovy or the Baltic, I made no motion, knowing very well, that the ships from the south do not set out for that part of the world till May or June; and that if I was there at the beginning of August, it would be as soon as any ships would be ready to go away; and therefore, I say, I made no haste to be gone, as others did; in a word, I saw a great many people, nay, all the travellers, go away before me. It seems, every year they go from thence to Moscow for trade; viz. to carry furs, and buy necessaries with them, which they bring back to furnish their shops; also others went on the same errand to Archangel; but then they also, being to come back again above eight hundred miles, went all out before me.
In short, about the latter end of May I began to make all ready to pack up; and as I was doing this, it occurred to me, that seeing all these people were banished by the czar of Muscovy to Siberia, and yet, when they came there, were at liberty to go whither they would; why did they not then go away to any part of the world wherever they thought fit? and I began to examine what should hinder them from making such an attempt.
But my wonder was over, when I entreated upon that subject with the person I have mentioned, who answered me thus: “Consider, first,” said he, “the place where we are; and, secondly, the condition we are in; especially,” said he, “the generality of the people who are banished hither. We are surrounded,” said he, “with stronger things than bars and bolts: on the north side is an unnavigable ocean, where ship never sailed, and boat never swam; neither, if we had both, could we know whither to go with them. Every other way,” said he, “we have above a thousand miles to pass through the czar’s own dominions, and by ways utterly impassable, except by the roads made by the government, and through the towns garrisoned by its troops; so that we could neither pass undiscovered by the road, or subsist any other way: so that it is in vain to attempt it.”
I was silenced indeed, at once, and found that they were in a prison, every jot as secure as if they had been locked up in the castle of Moscow; however, it came into my thoughts, that I might certainly be made an instrument to procure the escape of this excellent person, and that it was very easy for me to carry him away, there being no guard over him in the country; and as I was not going to Moscow, but to Archangel, and that I went in the nature of a caravan, by which I was not obliged to lie in the stationary towns in the desert, but could encamp every night where I would, might easily pass uninterrupted to Archangel, where I could immediately secure him on board an English or Dutch ship, and carry him off safe along with me; and as to his subsistence, and other particulars, that should be my care, till he should better supply himself.
He heard me very attentively, and looked earnestly on me all the while I spoke; nay, I could see in his very face, that what I said put his spirits into an exceeding ferment; his colour frequently changed, his eyes looked red, and his heart fluttered, that it might be even perceived in his countenance; nor could he immediately answer me when I had done, and, as it were, expected what he would say to it; and after he had paused a little, he embraced me, and said, “How unhappy are we! unguided creatures as we are, that even our greatest acts of friendship are made snares to us, and we are made tempters of one another! My dear friend,” said he, “your offer is so sincere, has such kindness in it, is so disinterested in itself, and is so calculated for my advantage, that I must have very little knowledge of the world, if I did not both wonder at it, and acknowledge the obligation I have upon me to you for it: but did you believe I was sincere in what I have so often said to you of my contempt of the world? Did you believe I spoke my very soul to you, and that I had really maintained that degree of felicity here, that had placed me above all that the world could give me, or do for me? Did you believe I was sincere, when I told you I would not go back, if I was recalled even to be all that once I was in the court, and with the favour of the czar my master? Did you believe me, my friend, to be an honest man, or did you think me to be a boasting hypocrite?” Here he stopped, as if he would hear what I would say; but, indeed, I soon after perceived, that he stopped because his spirits were in motion: his heart was full of struggles, and he could not go on. I was, I confess, astonished at the thing, as well as at the man, and I used some arguments with him to urge him to set himself free; that he ought to look upon this as a door opened by Heaven for his deliverance, and a summons by Providence, who has the care and good disposition of all events, to do himself good, and to render himself useful in the world.
He had by this time recovered himself. “How do you know, Sir,” said he, warmly, “but that, instead of a summons from Heaven, it may be a feint of another instrument, representing, in all the alluring colours to me, the show of felicity as a deliverance, which may in itself be my snare, and tend directly to my ruin? Here I am free from the temptation of returning to my former miserable greatness; there I am not sure, but that all the seeds of pride, ambition, avarice, and luxury, which I know remain in my nature, may revive and take root, and, in a word, again overwhelm me; and then the happy prisoner, whom you see now master of his soul’s liberty, shall be the miserable slave of his own senses, in the full possession of all personal liberty. Dear Sir, let me remain in this blessed confinement, banished from the crimes of life, rather than purchase a show of freedom at the expense of the liberty of my reason, and at the expense of the future happiness which now I have in my view, but shall then, I fear, quickly lose sight of; for I am but flesh, a man, a mere man, have passions and affections as likely to possess and overthrow me as any man: O be not my friend and my tempter both together!”