Departure of Exiles for Siberia—The Russian Howard—Vast Exercise House—Tartar Mosque—The Sparrow Hills—Burning of Moscow—Magnificent View of the City—Ennobling of Merchants—The Schoolmaster in Russia—Decay of the Old Nobility—The Donskoy Convent—Russian Monks—Their Interpreter—Palace of Petrofsky—Encampment near Moscow—Preparations for the Coronation Fête—Public Gardens—Zingari Singers.
Early on Sunday morning our travellers left then hotel to witness a painful though interesting sight, the departure of the convicts condemned to exile in Siberia from the Ragoshky Gate of the city, where they bid farewell to their relatives and friends. They are first collected from all parts of the neighbouring country in a large prison near the city, till they amount to a sufficient number to form a caravan. Our friends met the melancholy band; clanking their chains, they moved along at a slow pace through the city. Numbers of people, chiefly of the lower orders, rushed out of their houses, and presented them with loaves of bread, biscuits, tobacco, sugar, money, and other things likely to comfort them on their dreary pilgrimage. After they had been thus exhibited to the public, they stopped at a wooden shed, where they were to rest before taking their final departure. There were about fifty of them, old men and youths, and even women, some of them young, poor creatures, looking miserable, heart-broken, and forlorn.
The men were dressed in coarse linen shirts and trousers, and the high boots generally worn by peasants. Half the head was shaved, and few wore hat or cap to conceal the sign of their disgrace. Most of them were heavily manacled, some few only being free of irons.
In the centre of the building was a platform, on which were piled up the prisoners’ knapsacks and bags of provisions. Round it the gang stood grouped. While they were there, many persons entered to bring them offerings of money and food. At one end of the platform was spread out a large handkerchief, on which the gifts were placed. As each person, after bowing to the saint which hung in front of the doorway, deposited his or her piece of money or loaf of bread on the handkerchief, one of the prisoners, who seemed to take the lead, cried out with a loud voice, “Unhappy ones, thank the donors!” The whole party then bent their heads at the same time, and replied, “Thanks be to you, kind and benevolent sir,” or “mother” if a matron was their benefactor. After this, the visitors being requested to leave the shed, the gang was marshalled by the man in command, who spoke in a savage voice to the prisoners, and by his significant gestures was evidently in the habit of striking them.
The escort consisted of six mounted lancers and about thirty foot-soldiers. At a sign they stepped out together, and, while many a sob and groan was heard from the crowd, they commenced their six months’ dreary march towards Siberia at the rate of about twenty versts a day.
Russia has not been without its Howard; indeed, perhaps that great man infused his spirit into the bosom of the benevolent Dr Haaz. He, like Howard, devoted his means, his talents, and energies to ameliorating the condition of the unhappy prisoners. He had frequently urged on the authorities that the manacles employed were too heavy for persons of ordinary strength, but they would not listen to him. At length, the better to be able to explain the suffering inflicted on the poor wretches, he had them put on his own limbs, and trudged the whole of the first day’s march alongside the party of exiles. The state to which even this one day’s march reduced him was so strong an argument in favour of his assertion, that he won his cause; and after that the chains, except of the greater criminals, were much lightened.
A few carts, containing stores and some prisoners who were unable to walk, followed the melancholy cortege.
“In England many guilty ones escape punishment, but in this country many innocent ones suffer, I fear,” observed Cousin Giles as they returned to their hotel, very tired after their morning’s walk.
The travellers were told, that persons of rank condemned for political offences are carried off secretly by the police in closed carriages, without the power of communicating with their friends; that frequently they thus disappear, and no one knows whither they are gone. A small dark carriage, with thick blinds, may be seen, strongly guarded by horse-soldiers, proceeding towards Siberia, but no one knows whom it contains.
The travellers attended the service in the British chapel, where Mr Gray officiates, and they were surprised to find it so well filled. There were several persons in Russian uniforms—Englishmen, or the sons of Englishmen, in either the military or civil service of the Czar, who are allowed to worship God after the mode of their fathers. By the laws of Russia no Russian may change his religious profession, but any stranger entering the country may worship according to his belief—as may his descendants, although they become naturalised Russians. If, however, a stranger marries a Russian woman, the children of the marriage must belong to the Greek Church. Laws, however, cannot change the mind; and not only has the Greek Church been split into numerous bodies of sectarians, but there are many who totally dissent from it, an account of whom our friends afterwards heard.