CHAPTER IVTHE ROAD TO EXILE
May had come. The Lena had opened and become navigable. The heavy iron doors of the prison were unlocked and hundreds of inmates, including myself and Yasha, were mustered out in the yard to prepare for exile.
Every winter the huge prison at Alexandrovsk would gather within its walls thousands of unfortunate human beings, murderers, forgers, thieves, students, officers, peasants and members of the professional classes, who had transgressed against the tyrannical regime. Every spring the gloomy jail would open its doors and pour out a stream of half-benumbed men and women into the wild Siberian forest and the uninhabited regions bordering on the Arctic.
All through the spring and summer this river of tortured humanity would flow through Alexandrovsk into the snow-bound north, where they languished in unendurable cold and succumbed in large numbers in the land of the six months’ night. Tens of thousands of them lie scattered from the Ural mountains to Alaska in unmarked graves....
So finally we were to breathe some fresh air. There was much stir and bustle before our party was formed. It consisted of about a thousand persons, including twenty women. Our guard was composed of five hundredsoldiers. We were to go on foot to Katchugo, near the source of the Lena, a distance of about one hundred and thirty-three miles. Our baggage was loaded on wagons.
We travelled about twenty-two miles in the first day, according to schedule, stopping for the night at an exile-station on the edge of a village. There are many such stations on the Siberian roads—large wooden buildings of barn-like construction, with iron doors and grated windows. Empty inside, save for double tiers of bunks, they are surrounded by high fences, with a sentry-box at every corner. They offer no opportunity for escape.
We supped on food we had brought from the prison, and turned in for the night. Our party was divided into groups of ten, each group choosing a trusty charged with the purchasing of food. Beginning with the second day, each of us received an allowance of twenty kopeks (about 5d.).
There were about one hundred politicals in the party, the remainder being a mixed assemblage of criminals. These two classes of prisoners did not get on well together, and there was a continuous feud. Men and women were packed together, and some of the latter behaved outrageously. The filth, the vermin-infested bunks, the unimaginable stench, the frequent brawls, made our journey insufferably hideous.
Further, there was a privileged group among us consisting of the long-sentence convicts, who wore chains and were always given priority by the unwritten law of the criminal world. They always had the first use of the kettles to prepare their food. Until they had finished none of us dared approach the fire. Their word was law. They were always given the precedence. Even the soldiers and officers respected theirprivileges. One of them was chief of the party, and if he pledged himself, in return for more freedom for all of us, that there would be no escapes, his word would be taken without question by the Commander of the Guard, and it was never broken.
The weather was fine the first three days. We travelled twenty miles the second day and the same distance the third day, but then it began to pour, and the roads became almost impassable. The mud was frightful, but we had to walk our scheduled twenty miles. Many in our party fell ill. We looked forward to the next exile-station with eager expectation, so soaked were we and so tired. We longed for a roof and a dry floor, and nothing else. We forgot our hunger, we did not feel the vermin that night, for as soon as we reached the station we dropped into a leaden sleep.
We had a two-days’ rest upon our arrival at Katchugo, and were allowed to bathe in the Lena, our chief making himself responsible for our conduct. We found a small party waiting to join us at Katchugo.
A member of this new group was recognized by some of the exiles as one who was said to have betrayed his comrade in a raid, and was dragged for trial before the entire body.
Here I witnessed a remarkable scene, the trial of a criminal by criminals. There was as rigid a code of morals in the underworld as in any legitimate government, and just as relentless a prosecution. It was announced that there would be a trial and the privileged criminals in chains were chosen as judges. The accusers were called upon to state their charges, in the hearing of the whole party. They related how the accused man had betrayed a comrade in a robbery some time ago.
There were cries of, “Kill him! Kill him! The traitor! Kill him!” This was the usual punishmentfor any one found guilty. It was the custom of the authorities to watch the proceedings and never interfere with the carrying out of a sentence. As the mob was closing in on the accused, and my heart was sinking within me, the judges called for order and demanded that the man be given a hearing too. White and trembling, he got up to tell his story in detail.
“There were two of us,” he began, “in the scheme to rob a banker. It was decided that I should force my way into the house through a window, hide there and signal to my confederate at the opportune moment. I found that the banker had gone for the evening to a club, and concealed myself in a closet, waiting for his return. My comrade kept guard, without receiving any sign from me, for a couple of hours.
“When the banker returned he sent his valet to fetch something from the closet in which I was hidden. The valet discovered me, and raised an alarm, and some servants ran out to call for help just at the moment when my comrade was about to enter the house. He was caught. I managed to escape through the window and the garden. I am innocent, comrades. I have been a criminal for many years, and I have a clean, honourable record.”
He then proceeded to enumerate the most striking accomplishments of his career, the chiefs under whom he had worked, and the robbers with whom he had been associated in the past.
He must have mentioned some very important personages, as immediately a number of voices were raised in his favour. Some got up and spoke in high terms of the connections of the accused, while others scoffed at him. The deliberations lasted for several hours, resulting in the acquittal of the man.
The entire party, at the conclusion of the rest atKatchugo, was taken on board a huge roofed barge. A thousand people in one hole! The prison at Alexandrovsk, the exile-stations, were paradise in comparison with this unimaginable den. There was no air and no light. Instead of windows there were some small openings in the roof. Many fell ill, and were left lying there uncared for, some of them dying. We were so crowded that we slept almost on top of one another, inhaling the foulest of odours. Every morning we were allowed to come out on the deck of the barge, which was towed by a tug.
In our group was the woman Kitova, with her husband and two children. We cooked and ate our food together, suffering much at the hands of the criminals. There were some quiet people among the latter, and they suffered from the whims of the leaders and their lackeys.
There was one such case of a man, who happened to cross the path of an old criminal. The latter did not like the way he looked at him, and the poor man was beaten and, without any ceremony, thrown overboard and drowned. We were all locked up for it inside the barge and were denied the privilege of going out on the deck. It was the most cruel of punishments, worse than a long term in prison.
We changed barges on the way, spending about two months on the water, having journeyed about two thousand miles upon arriving at Yakutsk at the end of July. We were beached at night, but it was almost as light as day, though much colder.
Our joy at landing was indescribable. The local politicals all came out to welcome us. We were marched to the Yakutsk prison, where our roll was called. Here the women were separated from the men, and those who voluntarily accompanied their husbands were set free.
I then went to the office to inquire about the fate ofYasha, and was told that it was probable that he would be sent farther north. I was cared for by the local politicals, who sheltered me and gave me new clothing and money with which to purchase food and cook dinners for Yasha.
Yakutsk is such a distant place that the prisoners there are allowed considerable freedom. I was kindly treated by the officials when I took the dinner-pail to Yasha, and was permitted to remain with him as long as I desired, even in privacy.
Shortly afterwards Yasha was informed that he had been assigned to Kolymsk, within seven miles of the Arctic ocean, where the snow never melts and the winter never relaxes its grip. The news was a terrible shock to us. To be buried alive in some snow-bound hut! What for? To live like beasts in that uninhabitable region from which only few ever emerge alive!
There was still one ray of hope. Governor Kraft, of Yakutsk, had the reputation of being a very kind man, and he might reassign Yasha if I begged him to do so. Yasha had been advised to appeal to the Governor, and he sent me on this mission.
The Governor’s office was in his home. He received me very kindly, even shook my hand, and invited me to be seated. He was a tall, erect, black-bearded man of middle-age, and he showed every consideration for me as I told my story. I proposed to him to open a sanitary butcher’s shop in Yakutsk if he allowed Yasha to remain there, as the local butchers’ shops were inconceivably filthy.
He at first refused to consider my suggestion, but then, apparently on second thoughts, bade me follow him into his private room, where he seated me at a table, and, filling two glasses with wine, invited me to drink with him. I refused, wondering what could bethe reason for this extreme friendliness. He drew nearer to me, laid his hands on my coat and removed it. Before I recovered from my astonishment he seized my hand and kissed it. No man had ever before kissed my hand, and I had an idea that it was an action that could only imply immoral intentions. Startled and indignant, I jumped to my feet.
“I will give you a thousand roubles, room for a butcher’s shop in the market, and keep your husband in Yakutsk, if you will agree to belong to me,” the Governor declared, trying to calm me.
I lost my self-control. “Scoundrels! beasts! you men are all alike!” I shouted. “All! all! all! High and low, you are all depraved.” Seizing my coat, I ran out of the house, leaving the Governor speechless.
I rushed to my lodging, locked myself in a room and wept all night. My errand had failed, and I was now faced with the choice between a living death for Yasha and selling myself. I had visions of Kolymsk, a settlement consisting of several scattered huts, inhabited by natives, lost in the vast expanse of the ice-bound steppe, and buried for months under mountains of snow. I could almost hear the howling of the Arctic winds, and the frightful growling of the polar bears.
I pictured Yasha in the midst of it, cut off from human companionship, slowly languishing in the monotony of inactivity. Then my thoughts would revert to the other alternative. To live and work with Yasha in outward happiness, and stealthily, in the night, to go to this degenerate Governor! And what if Yasha learned of my secret visits? How should I explain? And of what avail would any explanations be to him? No, it was impossible, impossible! Ah, what a terrible night it was! From visions of the frozen banks of the Arctic waters, my imagination would carry me tothe revolting embraces of Governor Kraft, in a fruitless search for a way out.
Morning finally came and found me completely worn out. When my friends questioned me as to the result of my call on the Governor, I replied that he had refused my appeal. In low spirits I went to see Yasha. He quickly noticed my downcast appearance and inquired into the cause.
“I saw the Governor, and he would not change your place of exile,” I informed him dejectedly.
Yasha flared up. “You appealed to the Governor, eh? The Governor never yet refused an appeal of this sort from a woman, I am told. He is the kindest of men. The warden here just told me that the Governor has long felt the need of a first-class butcher’s shop in the town, and would never let us go if properly appealed to. I hear that you did not plead with sufficient warmth. You want to get rid of me, eh? You want to have me sent to Kolymsk to die, so that you can remain here alone and carry on with some other man.”
Yasha’s words pained me deeply. He had always been very jealous, but the strain of the imprisonment and the journey had made him more irritable. Besides, it was evident that some one from the Governor’s office had informed him that I had not sufficiently exerted myself in his behalf. I did not dare to tell him the truth, for that would have meant certain exile to Kolymsk, and I still hoped against hope.
“Yasha,” I implied, “how can you say such things of me? You know how I love you, and if you go to Kolymsk I shall go with you. I have been to the Governor, and entreated him.”
“Then go again. Fall on your knees before him, and beg harder. He is said to be such a kind manthat he will surely have mercy. Otherwise, we are lost. Think of our destination, a land without sun, a colony of three or four huts, spread over a space of about ten miles, that is Kolymsk. No horses, no business, no trades! It is not a land for the living. Go and implore the Governor, and he may take pity.”
I looked at Yasha, and my heart was filled with anguish. He was only twenty-seven, but his hair was already turning grey. He looked pale and exhausted. I could not keep myself from breaking into sobs. Yasha was touched, and, placing his arm around me, apologized for his insinuation, assuring me of his devotion and appreciation of my endeavours to sustain him in his trials. I left him, with the understanding that I would call on the Governor again.
“To go or not to go,” was the thought that tormented me on the way from Yasha. I learned that the Governor was notorious as a libertine. He had married into the family of a high-placed bureaucrat for the sake of a career, and his wife was a hunch-back, spending most of her time abroad. Plucking up courage, I went to the Governor again, hoping to win his favour by a passionate plea for Yasha. As I entered the office I saw the clerks wink to one another significantly. I could scarcely keep my self-control, trembling in anticipation of another meeting with the Governor. As I was admitted into his study he stood up and smiled benevolently, saying:
“Ah, so finally you have come, my dear. Now, don’t be afraid; I won’t harm you. Calm yourself, and be seated,” and he helped me to a chair.
“Have pity on us, sir. Permit Yasha to remain here,” I sobbed.
“Now, now, don’t cry,” he interrupted me. “I will. He shall stay.”
My heart was full of gratitude, and I threw myself on the floor at his feet, thanking and blessing him for his kindness. Then it occurred to me that Yasha would be overjoyed to hear the news, and I rose to go, telling the Governor of my purpose.
“You need not tire yourself by rushing to the prison. I will have the message telephoned to the warden, with instructions to inform your husband immediately,” the Governor said, “and you may rest here a little while.”
I was overflowing with thankfulness. He poured some wine into a glass and insisted that I should drink it to refresh myself. I had never tasted wine before, and this particular wine was of a very strong quality. I felt a wave of warmth creep over me. It was so sweet and languorous. The Governor then filled my glass again and, also one for himself, invited me to drink with him. I made an effort to resist, but was too weak to withstand his persuasion. After the second glass it was much easier for the Governor to make me empty the third. I became drowsy and dull, unable to move. I had a sense of the Governor removing my clothes, but was too helpless to protest, let alone to offer physical resistance. He embraced me, kissed me, but I remained inert. I then had a sensation of being picked up by him and carried to a couch. Very dimly I seemed to realize it all, and, collecting my last strength, I attempted to struggle, but felt as if I had been drugged....
I awoke about four in the morning and found myself in unfamiliar, luxurious surroundings. For a few moments I could not understand where I was, and thought that I was dreaming. There was a strange man near me. He turned his face, and I recognized him as the Governor. I suddenly remembered everything. He made a motion to embrace me, but I criedout, jumped up, dressed myself hastily and ran from the house as if pursued.
Day was just breaking. The town was still wrapped in sleep, and a low mist merged the city with the river. It was early autumn. There was peace everywhere but in my heart; there, the elements were raging, and life grappled with death for supremacy. “What shall I say to Yasha? What will our friends think of me? A prostitute!” pierced my mind poignantly. “No, that must never happen. Death is my only escape.”
I wandered about the streets for a while, until I found a grocer’s shop open, and I purchased there thirty kopek’s worth of essence of vinegar. Entering my lodging, I was met by the question:
“Where have you been? Maria Leontievna, where did you sleep last night?” My appearance in itself was enough to arouse suspicion. Without answering, I rushed into my room and locked the door. After offering my last prayers, I resolutely drank up all the poison, and was soon writhing in agony.
At the same time, about ten in the morning, Yasha was released from prison and given five hundred roubles for the establishment of a butcher’s shop. In high spirits, he made his way to my lodging, completely unaware of what had befallen me. It was only when he arrived at the house that he observed an unusual commotion. The door of my room had been broken in when my moans were heard. The poison had scorched my mouth and throat as if with a flame, and I was found unconscious on the floor, and only recovering my senses after I had been removed to the hospital. Around me stood Yasha, some nurses, and a physician who was pouring something down my throat. I could not speak, although I understood all that was going on in the room. I had lost so much blood, the doctor explained to Yasha,in reply to his anxious questions, that my recovery was very doubtful. “Only a person of unusually powerful constitution could emerge alive from such an ordeal,” he added.
For two weeks I hovered between life and death, suffering agonizing pains, writhing in breathless convulsions that choked my breathing. I was fed only on milk, introduced into my throat through a tube. For a month I was incapable of speech, at the end of which time I was out of danger, but I had to spend another month in the hospital before I regained my normal health.
Yasha could not, at first, understand the reason for my act. The Governor was so kind, so generous. He had not only commuted his sentence, but had given us five hundred roubles for a shop. Could there be anything more noble? He finally arrived at the conclusion that the trials of the last year had resulted in a temporary mental derangement, which was responsible for my attempt at suicide. I did not disillusion him, although I was tempted to do so whenever be praised the Governor.
Upon leaving the hospital, we opened the butcher’s shop and immediately began to do good business. For several months we led a peaceful life. Then, one afternoon, the Governor suddenly called at our shop, ostensibly to inquire how we were prospering. He stretched out his hand to me, but I turned away.
The Governor left, and Yasha raged at me for my inexplicable conduct. Had I gone mad? I must have, to be capable of refusing to greet our benefactor, the kindest of men! I was sullen and silent, but Yasha would not be satisfied. He demanded an explanation. There was nothing left for me to do but to make a clean breast of it, which I did.
The truth was such a shock to him that it threw him into convulsions. He struck me with something and felled me to the floor. His face turned chalk-white, the veins stood out on his temples, and he was trembling all over. He seemed utterly prostrated by the horror of this nightmare. The Governor’s liberality was now explained. The five hundred roubles, the commutation of his sentence, it had all been dearly paid for by his beloved.
My attempted suicide now appeared to him in its true light. He would take vengeance. He would kill the Governor, he swore, yes, he would murder that most despicable of villains. I hugged his feet and begged him not to attempt to carry out his threat. He paid no heed to my prayers, and talked of the hollowness of his life if he did not avenge me.
He set off on his fateful errand, all my efforts to bar his way having failed. When he appeared at the Governor’s office and requested an audience, giving his name, the clerks immediately suspected him of some sinister design. The secretary reported to the Governor that Buk, the butcher, desired an audience, but that his manner roused suspicion. The Governor ordered that he should be detained and searched. A long, sharp knife was found on him, and he was arrested, orders being given for his exile on the following day to Amga, a hamlet about one hundred and thirty miles from Yakutsk. I had only twenty-four hours to dispose of the shop, and was compelled to hand it over to a local political, with the understanding that he would pay us for it a few months later.
It was Easter Eve, 1914, when we started out in a cart, driven by a Yakut, for Amga. The mud was the worst I have ever come across. The horses sank so deep, and the wheels of the vehicle stuck so often, thatfrequently we had to alight and help in extricating them. We spent Easter Day in a native’s hut on the road, in which children, women and animals lived together. There is always a fire in the centre of these huts, the smoke being allowed to escape through a hole in the roof. The cows were milked in the hut, and the filth was beyond words. After supping on some bread and a sort of tea, which was unfit for human consumption, we went to sleep. The following day we resumed our journey to Amga.