Formerly the Polish exiles enjoyed more social freedom than at present. The cause of the change was thus explained to me:
Five or six years ago a Polish noble who had been exiled lived at Irkutsk and enjoyed the friendship of several officers. The Amoor had been recently opened, and this man asked and obtained the privilege of visiting it, giving his parole not to leave Siberia. At Nicolayevsk he embraced the opportunity to escape, and advised others to do the same. This breach of confidence led to greater circumspection, and the distrust was increased by the conduct of other exiles. Since that time the Poles have been under greater restraint.
Many books on Russia contain interesting stories of the brutality toward exiles, both on the road and after they have reached their destination. Undoubtedly there have been instances of cruelty, just as in every country in Christendom, but I do not believe the Russians are worse in this respect than other people. I saw a great many exiles during my journey through Siberia. Frequently when on the winter road I met convoys of them, and never observed any evidence of needless severity. Five-sixths of the exiles I met on the road were in sleighs like those used by Russian merchants when traveling. There were generally three persons in a sleigh, and I thought them comfortably clad. I could see no difference between them and their guards, except that the latter carried muskets and sabres. Any women among them received special attention, particularly when they were young and pretty. I saw two old ladies who were handled tenderly by the soldiers and treated with apparent distinction. When exiles were on foot, their guards marched with them and the women of the party rode in sleighs.
The object of deportation is to people Siberia; if the government permitted cruelties that caused half of the exiles to die on the road, as some accounts aver, it would be inconsistent with its policy. As before mentioned, the ripe age to which most of the Decembrists lived, is a proof that they were not subjected to physical torture. In the eyes of the government these men were the very worst offenders, and if they did not suffer hardships and cruelties it is not probable that all others would be generally ill-used. I do not for a moment suppose exile is either attractive or desirable, but, so far as I know, it does not possess the horrors attributed to it. The worst part of exile is to be sent to hard labor, but the unpleasant features of such punishment are not confined to Siberia. Plenty of testimony on this point can be obtained at Sing Sing and Pentonville.
It is unpleasant to leave one’s home and become an involuntary emigrant to a far country. The Siberian road is one I would never travel out of pure pleasure, and I can well understand that it must be many times disagreeable when one journeys unwillingly. But, once in Siberia, the worldly circumstances of many exiles are better than they were at home. If a man can forget that he is deprived of liberty, and I presume this is the most difficult thing of all, he is not, under ordinary circumstances, very badly off in Siberia. Certainly many exiles choose to remain when their term of banishment is ended. A laboring man is better paid for his services and is more certain of employment than in European Russia. He leads a more independent life and has better prospects of advancement than in the older civilization. Many Poles say they were drawn unwillingly into the acts that led to their exile, and if they return home they may be involved in like trouble again. In Poland they are at the partial mercy of malcontents who have nothing to lose and can never remain at ease. In Siberia there are no such disturbing influences.
About ten thousand exiles are sent to Siberia every year. Except in times of political disturbance in Poland or elsewhere, nearly all the exiles are offenders against society or property. The notion that they are generally ‘politiques,’ is very far from correct. As well might one suppose the majority of the convicts at Sing Sing were from the upper classes of New York. The regular stream of exiles is composed almost entirely of criminal offenders; occasional floods of revolutionists follow the attempts at independence.
I made frequent inquiries concerning the condition of the exiles, and so far as I could learn they were generally well off. I say ‘generally,’ because I heard of some cases of poverty and hardship, and doubtless there were others that I never heard of. A large part of the Siberian population is made up of exiles and their descendants. A gentleman frequently sent me his carriage during my stay at Irkutsk. It was managed by an intelligent driver who pleased me with his skill and dash. One evening, when he was a little intoxicated, my friend and myself commented in French on his condition, and were a little surprised to find that he understood us. He was an exile from St. Petersburg, where he had been coachman to a French merchant.
The clerk of the hotel was an exile, and so was one of the waiters. Isvoshchiks, or hackmen, counted many exiles in their ranks, and so did laborers of other professions. Occasionally clerks in stores, market men, boot makers, and tailors ascribed their exile to some discrepancy between their conduct and the laws. I met a Polish gentleman in charge of the museum of the geographical society of Eastern Siberia, and was told that the establishment rapidly improved in his hands. Two physicians of Irkutsk were ‘unfortunates’ from Warsaw, and one of them had distanced all competitors in the extent and success of his practice. Then there were makers of cigarettes, dealers in various commodities, and professors of divers arts. Some of the educated Siberians I met told me they had been taught almost entirely by exiles.
Before the abolition of serfdom a proprietor could send his human property into exile. He was not required to give any reason, the record accompanying the order of banishment stating only that the serf was exiled “by the will of his master.” This privilege was open to enormous abuse, but happily the ukase of liberty has removed it. The design of the system was no doubt to enable proprietors to rid themselves of serfs who were idle, dissolute, or quarrelsome, but had not committed any act the law could touch.
A proprietor exiling a serf was required to pay his traveling expenses of twenty-five roubles, and to furnish him an outfit of summer and winter clothing. A wife was allowed to follow her husband, with all their children not matured, and all their expenses were to be paid. The abuse of the system consisted in the power to banish a man who had committed no offence at all. The loss of services and the expense of exiling a serf may have been a slight guarantee against this, but if the proprietor were an unprincipled tyrant or a sensualist, (and he might be both,) there was no protection for his subjects. It has happened that the best man on an estate incurred the displeasure of his owner and went to Siberia in consequence. Exile is a severe punishment to the Russian peasant, who clings with enduring tenacity to the place where his youthful days were passed.