“a terrific reservoir of guilt
And ignorance filled up from age to age,
That could no longer hold its loathsome charge,
But burst and spread in deluge through the land.”
JOY OF REVOLUTION
Just about the time of my arrival at Irkutsk there took place the first great manifestation of the popular will after the Revolution. It was the demonstration in favour of the Len strikers. About five years before, the goldminers on the River Len had struck against their miserable rate of pay. They had assembled and marched through the streets, but without arms in their hands and with neither the intention nor the means of doing violence. The governor refused to listen to them and simply ordered the soldiers to fire upon the defenceless crowd. Two hundred were killed outright. This needless butchery sent a thrill of horror throughout Russia. A question was asked about it in the Duma, but the minister responsible merely answered with cynical insolence, “Tak bylo tak budet” (“So it was, so it will be”). This phrase became proverbial in Russia; it fixed irretrievably the attitude of the Government towards all pleas for justice and reform. The fifth anniversary of the affair came round just after the Revolution had established itself, and the new Government decided to celebrate it by a great procession in honour of the fallen. All Irkutsk took part, including even a deputation of Chinese coolies. It was the climax of the Revolution. For the last time all the forces working for liberty combined to show a united front. It is impossible to describe the joy and eagerness of the population, the feeling not only of freedom but also that the old bad things were done away with for ever. No one dreamed that within a few months slaughters more terrible than those of the Len were to redden the streets of Irkutsk itself. I went to see the procession and was bitterly disappointed. The soldiers who took part were supposed to be celebrating a high and solemn occasion, and yet they shuffled and slouched through the streets as no good soldier does, even when he is off duty. The heartiest enthusiasm was shown by the Anarchists and extreme groups, men whose wild, undisciplined faces were livid with rage and hate, but showed no signs of any higher emotion. With characteristic brutality they ruthlessly shoved aside any woman or child who got in their way or tried to join their part of the procession. Only the small group from the Officers’ Training Schools showed themselves worthy of the occasion. They marched with fine soldierly bearing and dignity, but behind their restraint it was obvious that they felt the greatness of the cause they were celebrating. In fact, the procession exhibited in little all the weaknesses of the Revolution. Despite the joy of the crowds, it did not exalt me, it only left me profoundly depressed.
OUTRAGES
From this point onwards there came a gradual worsening in the situation. The criminals in Siberia were released on a promise that they would join the army—a double folly. It not only set them free, but it also provided them with arms. At one time there were said to be ten thousand criminals in and around Irkutsk. Robbery and murder were rampant. Men were killed in broad daylight in the open streets. Whole families were slaughtered at once. Most of the crimes were committed by men in soldiers’ uniforms (I cannot bring myself to call them soldiers). The Anarchists joined in the merry game by organized attacks on barracks and Government buildings where they suspected money was to be found. As winter came on and the days drew in, the fun became fast and furious. In our direction things were very lively, and we could hear the shooting going on all night long. We lived just on the edge of a lonely common studded with low bushes. On the one side of us were the barracks; on the other, about a quarter of a mile off, the first straggling houses of the town. The regiment supplied the thieves, who used to lie in wait behind the bushes for any one coming home after dark. I shall not easily forget an evening when I took my little pupil to a cinematograph show in the town. As it did not end till late, I thought it would be best to take a “droschke” home. My pupil implored me not to; he swore we should be murdered if we did. Finally I persuaded him it was best to ride, if possible; but now the question was to find a “droschke.” Not a man would come. They all said it was as much as their lives were worth to go near our regiment, and in the end we were forced to walk. Not far from our house there was a bridge over a stream, where people were murdered every night, and where, a few days before, a peasant woman had been killed for the sake of her boots. As I took my pupil’s hand and we threaded our way in the dark night between the mysterious bushes, it seemed as if all the thrills in the old nursery stories had come true. I knew now how Jack felt in the house of the Giant, and what it was to be hunted by the Bogey-man. Inmates of our house drove into the town every evening. When the firing was too intense, we used to telephone down and warn them to stay in the town. They always insisted on having the carriage sent to fetch them. The coachman used to set off, an old fowling-piece between his knees. If it came to a scrap in the dark, he preferred shooting with a cartridge to a bullet. They never stopped us, but one night a wounded officer just managed to crawl to our doorstep and lay there, groaning in the moonlight. The sight of his agony made me think I should always hate the moonlight afterwards. The officer had met four soldiers who had asked him for a light, and as he stopped to hand them a matchbox, one of them had drawn a revolver and had fired at him point blank. Soldiers would lie on the ground pretending to be wounded, and when any one came to bend over them and help them, they would knife their rescuer, take all his money, and make off. No help was to be expected from passers-by. A lady of our acquaintance was knocked down in a crowded thoroughfare and robbed of some valuable furs that she was wearing, but no one lifted a finger to protect her. When she went to the police, they looked very wise and said, “Well, if you will tell us who took your furs, we will get them back for you.”
Not that Kerenski’s Government did nothing. On the contrary, they did all they could to keep crime down; but the difficulties in their way were enormous. The old professional police had been disbanded after the Revolution and sent into the army. The safety of the town was entrusted to militia, who, whatever their zeal and bravery may have been, were at the best only amateurs. They could not cope with the professional criminal. With each fresh development of crime the militia system was extended, pickets of two or three men, heavily armed, were stationed at certain points all night long, and more dangerous areas were patrolled by soldiers. Just as the Provisional Government fell, it was elaborating a scheme for employing some hundreds of soldiers as extra police in the town. But nothing would really have improved matters except sending all the professional criminals back to prison, and hanging all those Anarchist and Bolshevist agitators, who were never tired of telling the soldiers that it was right for them to take whatever they liked, wherever they found it.
I need scarcely dwell on the economic difficulties of Russia. These have been treated by so many pens. The fall in the value of the rouble, the closing of the frontier to the importation of foreign manufactures, the destruction of Russian factories, and the gradual disintegration of the railway system owing to strikes fomented by the Germans and the Bolsheviks, the consequent scarcity in all the shops of things to buy—all this is known. But one noticeable effect of it in Irkutsk has not been recorded—and that is the growth of the “yellow influence.” When I went to Irkutsk, Chinamen were market-gardeners, laundrymen, coolies, and small shopkeepers, and the Japanese had a few unimportant businesses. But with the growing anarchy of the Russian business world, shop after shop went bankrupt, and the place of the Russian tradesman was immediately taken by a Chinaman or a Japanese. When I left Irkutsk, the yellow men had the largest shops and were doing the biggest trade. The Russian merchant can get in no supplies from Russia, while the Japanese are continually renewing their stores from home. The Bolsheviks, when they came in, did all in their power to make it impossible for the Russian tradesman to exist. What will happen when a stable Government comes I do not know, but the changes here described must have an important bearing on the future of Siberia.