On the following morning we arrived at Nijni Novgorod, whence we were to journey by boat to Perm, by the Volga and its tributary the Kama. Our party attracted much attention both at the station and on the way to the quay. The married and betrothed couples walked in front, arm in arm, and the rest of us followed, the escort surrounding us all. Two large cabins, one for the men and one for the women, were assigned to us on the big barge, which was taken in tow by a river steamer. Here we were rather comfortably lodged, and we were all in common allowed free access to the roomy deck, which was enclosed by iron netting at the sides and overhead. Food we provided for ourselves, and on that head had nothing to complain of, thanks to the kindness of our friends and to the provident care of Làzarev, our elected chief or stàrosta.
The voyage lasted some days; the weather was uninterruptedly fine; and we sat on deck from early morning till late evening, revelling in the charming scenes which passed before our eyes, on this giant among European rivers and on its tributary stream. Especially lovely was it towards sunset, when our choir, which boasted some exceptionally fine voices, would sing our favourite songs. As one sat, with head supported against the iron netting, and eyes following the shining ripples lit by exquisite fairy-like tints, the impression made on one by those beautiful sad songs was never to be forgotten. Gradually the colour would fade from the sky, and the stars shine down from a cloudless heaven, to be mirrored in the glassy surface of the great river; and everything around me—the river, the stars, the songs—would recall to my mind another royal stream, the mighty Dnieper, by whose banks my childhood had been spent.
“What are you thinking of? Why are you so sad?” on one such evening a young “administrative” asked me. She was a girl of about twenty, with whom I had become acquainted during the journey. We were soon engaged in intimate and friendly talk. She could understand my mood, and sympathised heartily. She was an unusually interesting creature of peculiar and, some might say, eccentric character, but of keen intelligence. She told me how she had come to adopt the principles of Socialism, and what kind of life she had quitted to join the revolutionary movement. Like so many others at that time, she had been possessed by the longing to do something for the people—the peasants. Where and how to begin she did not know, and she could find no one to advise her. She tried to discover some way for herself, and read everything she could get hold of that bore on the subject. At last, against her parents’ wishes, she left her home in South Russia for Petersburg, where she hoped to find someone who could help her. In the course of her quest, and before she had arrived at any definite solution of the problems that perplexed her, she was arrested, and was now being sent to Siberia for three years’ banishment. Like hundreds of others, this noble-hearted girl had expended her strength and sacrificed her happiness to no purpose, without benefit to others, without attaining her own peace of mind; a victim to the cramping and illiberal political conditions that reign in our native land. She died by her own hand in Siberia some time after this.
From Perm we were taken by rail to Ekaterinburg, where we arrived after a wearisome day’s journey. Here we spent the night; and next day our party, consisting entirely of “politicals” with their escort, was to drive to Tiumen, the first town within the borders of Siberia. The construction of the Siberian railway was only just being begun, and the journey—now very simple—was then attended by all manner of difficulties.
At the outset we had a disagreement with the authorities that might have had serious consequences. A number of troïkas[[57]] had been provided for the transportation of ourselves, our escort, and the luggage; in each of them four prisoners and two soldiers were to go, which, with the driver, made seven persons. The younger members of our party thought this too many, and appealed to the officer, Captain Volkov, who had accompanied us from Moscow (and with whom I had previously travelled from Kiëv), to arrange that only three of us and two soldiers should go in each carriage, or, if he preferred, four of us and only one soldier. As there were not enough carriages for this arrangement the captain refused the request; and our young Hotspurs flatly swore that they would not get in. In other words, they would oblige the soldiers to use force with them, and that would naturally lead to a battle, the results of which might be very unpleasant. The ispravnik[[58]] appeared, and declared that he could not hire any more carriages, as this number had been specially ordered by his chief. There was much arguing up and down, during which several of the young men and two of the women got very angry. We elders, on the contrary, thought the matter not sufficiently important to warrant a conflict which might well result in the despatch of the “administratives” to distant stations for increased periods of exile, and of ourselves perhaps to Schlüsselburg.
“I beg you to get into the carriages,” urged Volkov; and the ispravnik joined in his persuasions.
“No, we will not. Use force if you like!” cried voices from our midst.
“We shall have to report you as refusing to obey orders.”
“Do as you please!” was the answer.