A prisoner had the foolhardiness (for one can call it nothing else) to inform the officials of the intended evasion of three of the most desperate characters in the prison. Whether he did it out of revenge or to suit his own ends is not known; at any rate, his treason (for such it would undoubtedly be considered amongst his fellows) got somehow to be known, and his death decreed by the staroster. In the mean time, however, he had been removed to another cell, so it was arranged that it should take place at the Government photographer’s, when the gang went to be photo’d; but the officials heard of his danger, and he was removed to another room—only just in time, for he would have been lynched, to a certainty, otherwise. Although after this he was placed in another part of the building, the news had spread, and his life was made so awful for him that he was eventually placed in solitary confinement till he could be sent to another prison. Capital punishment not existing in Siberia (except in the rarest and most extreme of cases), criminals are absolutely reckless, as they know they cannot get worse than they have got, so there are many prisoners with a list of murders and other crimes against them which would probably make an English criminal open his eyes.
GROUP OF PRISONERS (FROM A GOVERNMENT PHOTOGRAPH).
But revenons à nos moutons (or rather convicts). As the different men were required the staroster called out their names, and they then came to be “verified”—that is to say, compared with their photo, which is attached to the paper relating to each one. I omitted to mention that all convicts, before starting on the long march across Siberia, have their heads shaved on one side, to render them immediately recognizable as prisoners, and so as to prevent them from running away; and very hideous does this operation render them, as there is no concealing it. Still, in spite of it, numbers of them do escape, as I shall have occasion to tell you in a subsequent chapter. After the “verification” the prisoners were let loose into the courtyard of the perasilny, and left to shift for themselves and find accommodation where they could in the building. As I have already remarked, the perasilny is only a sort of depôt for prisoners; they never remain in it long, only till a detachment is starting for the prison or mine to which they have been consigned.
I was permitted to roam about all over the place with my sketch-book, quite alone, so made sketches amongst the unsavoury crowd of ruffians to my heart’s content, and although they came closer to me at times than I desired, still I was in no way molested. It was certainly a most extraordinary sight. Groups of evil, sullen-looking men were either roaming about the spacious courtyard, or else hanging about in groups, talking in an undertone to each other. Most of them were in chains, and their clanking noise harmonized well with the gloomy surroundings. It gave one the impression of being in a den of human wild beasts, and judging from their faces I should fancy most of them were but little better. They all seemed pretty well free to do what they pleased, and I noticed many were smoking cigarettes or pipes. The principal occupation, whilst I was there, seemed to be noting the new arrivals as they individually made their appearance inside the gate. In some cases the new-comers immediately found friends among the crowd, in which, event he was introduced by them to the others, and the mutual greetings were most effusive, and doubtless sufficient to raise feelings of envy in the breasts of younger prisoners standing by, and who were unknown to criminal fame. I was told afterwards that new-comers, if they are absolutely unknown to any one in their cell, have to stand a sort of supper, or bienvenue—pay their “footing,” as a matter of fact. Fancy this sort of thing in an English prison! I naturally asked how a prisoner would manage if he had no money. “He can always get enough for that,” was the reply. How?
Whilst I was strolling about making notes and sketches, a warder came up and asked me if I would like to visit the building, and volunteered to show me over it. Naturally I accepted the offer, and was much interested, and I may say astonished, at all I saw. There were three blocks of wooden buildings, the windows of which were heavily grated; though why there were bars I could not make out, for all doors were unlocked, and the prisoners appeared to be free to go and come as they pleased. It was more like a large school-house than a prison. In the rooms, or rather dormitories, the same liberty prevailed, as there seemed to be no one to maintain discipline or order; in fact, there was such a row in all of them that the warder accompanying me had to call out several times at the top of his voice in order to get a little silence, as the noise was simply deafening. The sleeping accommodation in all the rooms consisted of the usual sloping wooden shelves fixed down the centre of the room.
What astonished me most in the whole place was the married prisoners’ quarters; for in the large dormitory there were at least two hundred men, women, and children of all ages herded together indiscriminately. No words can fitly describe the scene. The evil faces, the babel of voices, the crying of children, the clanking of the men’s chains, and, above all, the indescribable stench which seems inseparable from the Siberian prisons, all combined to make as hideous an impression as could well be imagined. All round, seated or standing, were little family parties, so to speak. Tea was going on at the moment I entered, and the women naturally were in their element; in fact, it was more like a picnic of the lower orders than a prison scene. The heat of the place, which appeared to be without ventilation, was as usual fearfully oppressive, and many of the men and women were in the very scantiest of attires, for decency did not appear to affect them much, and the sight of so many poor little innocent children, in such foul surroundings, struck me as being particularly horrible.
A “PRIVILIGIERT,” OR PRIVILEGED PRISONER.