All this naturally excited my curiosity and made me desire to witness personally, if possible, some of the proceedings, and, as good luck had it, I was soon enabled to do so. An officer with whom I had been very friendly was told off with his detachment to escort a large body of prisoners coming from Tomsk; he had to take them over from their previous escort some fifty versts back and convoy them to Krasnoiarsk; so he courteously let me know of the probable time of his arrival at a certain point on the road, so that I could drive out to meet him and make as many photos and sketches as I wished. It is needless to say I jumped at the invitation, and on the appointed day took an isvoschik and drove along the Tomsk road.
We had driven some considerable distance without seeing the slightest sign of life on the deserted highway, when suddenly on the crisp frosty air I distinguished a faint distant sound, so peculiar and weird that it immediately attracted my attention, as it was evidently approaching us. It was not unlike the noise which would be produced by hundreds of small birds singing all at once, yet I could see nothing of any sort anywhere on the vast plain, so I drew my driver’s attention to it as well as I could with my limited vocabulary of Russian. To him it was neither novel nor interesting; he knew what it was at once. “The arrestanti are coming,” he briefly told me; and shortly after, on ascending a rise in the road which had concealed them from our view, there came in sight a big body of men coming slowly along, and I then discovered that the strange noise which had so impressed me was produced by the clanking of the heavy chains they wore. But then, alas! all preconceived illusions vanished, for it was a loathsome and depressing sight, and rendered doubly so under the bright sunlight. There was absolutely nothing of the poetic about it that I had been led to expect from the descriptions I had read so often before coming to Siberia. It was simply a huge crowd of what looked like (and probably was) the very scum of the earth, for all races seemed to be represented amongst it, making as villanous and evil-looking a lot of men as one could possibly see. In front and on either side of the column were soldiers with rifles and fixed bayonets. By the way, many writers speak of these soldiers as Cossacks; as a matter of fact, Cossacks are now never under any circumstances used for this or any duty in connection with prisoners, nor have they for many years past. On the road, as well as round the prisons, only special men are employed; these are known all over Russia and Siberia as “convoy soldiers,” and form a big brigade, which is under the command of a special general and a large staff of officers. All the men must have served a certain time in the regular army before they are eligible for this branch of the service.
A CONVOY OF PRISONERS ON THE MARCH.
(Enlargement from an instantaneous Kodak photo.)
[To face [p. 138].
How any writer who has actually seen a gang of criminal exiles on the march can describe it in any way as a pathetic sight beats me, and my only astonishment is that convicts of other countries are not also spoken of in the same sentimental way, for they are probably far worse off than Siberian criminals, who, as a matter of fact, have a much better time of it, considering their crimes, than they would have anywhere else, barring, of course, the trifling discomfort of having to “foot it” the whole distance if they are able. If they are footsore or lame they are permitted to ride on one of the baggage conveyances. The more I learn about the prisoners’ life, either on the road or in the ostrogs, the more astonished I am at the humane way in which they are treated, and how little is really known of it in the outer world. I am not referring to the system as a whole, which I feel convinced is not only a wrong but a demoralizing one, but to minor details, which show a kindly feeling on the part of the authorities which is somewhat unexpected. For instance, all Jews or Mohammedans receive ten kopeks (3d.) per day, both on the road and when in prison, so that they can purchase their own food, and have it cooked according to their belief, the food and cooking being looked after by one of their own religion deputed by themselves. In a country where it is said that the Jews are so persistently persecuted by the authorities, this comes as rather an astounding revelation, in my opinion. I know nothing whatever about prison life in England, but I am anxious to know if we treat our convicts in the same way. Political prisoners never march (unless they wish to do so), but are conveyed on telegas or sledges according to the season, and always follow some distance behind the criminals, with whom they never are associated. Considering how slowly the column advances, for I am informed it is often no less than four or five months on the road, resting as it does every second day, this must be an awful journey indeed for those who are leaving friends, home, and in fact all behind them for ever. For these “unfortunates,” when not criminal ones, all one’s sympathy is due; but the canaille marching on ahead, and who are thus most en évidence, in most cases richly deserve more than their fate, and ought to thank their lucky stars they are Russian and not English convicts.
PRISONERS UNLOADING SLEDGES ON ARRIVAL AT PERASILNY, KRASNOIARSK.
[To face [p. 140].