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SIBERIAN PICTURES.

VOL. II.

SIBERIAN PICTURES

BT

LUDWIK NIBMOJOWSKI
I X

EDITED, FEOM THE POLISH,
BT
MAJOR SZULCZEWSKI

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. n.

LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1883.
All rights reserved.

CONTENTS

OF

THE SECOND VOLUME.

(JHAPTEE PAGE
HABITS AND CUSTOMS— Continued.
II. The Madman . .... 3
IH. A Picture of Prison Life .... 84
IV. A True Story out of the Arabian Nights 98
V. The Beggar's Story  112
VI. Fashion and Social Habits in Siberia . 133
VH. The Steppe Tramp . . . 148
VIII. One Tear out of Nine in the Desert . 163
IX. Gold-digging in Siberia .... 185
X. Siberian Pedlars  205
XI. The Peasant Woman's Secret . . .243
XII. The History of the Village Clerk . . 267
Xin. A Drive over the Steppes . . . 279

PART IV.
STUDIES OF HABITS AND CUSTOMS.

(COSTDTOED.)

VOL. II.

SIBERIAN PICTURES.

CHAPTER II.

THE MADMAN.

IT happened at Tobolsk. I had been uncon
scious for a long time. During this period
a time came when I could see and hear all that
was going on around me without being able
to articulate a sound or make the slightest
moTement. Several strangers were standing beside my
couch ; one of them, a middle-aged man wear
ing gold spectacles, was holding my hand and
looking sadly at me.
'The fever is strong, the sense of feeling
almost gone. The case is dangerous ; the sick
man should be taken at once to the hospital.'
b2

4 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
'But, doctor,' said a young man standing
behind him, ' it is quite out of the question-
there is no more room there.'
' The ward is over-full, I know, but he could
be placed in a separate room with No. 6.
'With that one, and to leave them alone!'
cried the young man, evidently terrified.
'Why not V
' But the other one is a dangerous madman.'
' They won't hurt each other, and, besides,
they can be watched.'
And, without paying any further attention to
the young surgeon's protestations, he added,
turning to the orderlies,
' Carry the patient to the room occupied by
No. 6.'
I was terrified. The sight of a human being
afflicted in that manner used to move me to
pity, but it was always mixed with the fear we
experience of some inscrutable mystery of na
ture. To be shut up with a madman in a state
of fever and general irritation was to me some
thing terrible. I tried to speak. I could not. I
felt the men take me by my arms and legs and
carry me in the indicated direction. I lost
consciousness once more.

THE MADMAN. 5
How long I remained in this state 1 cannot
tell. When I opened my eyes it was night. I
found myself in a small room fully lighted by a
lamp, beside me sat a venerable-looking old
man, his face was gentle, a snowy beard
descended- down his breast, and the look in his
eyes was one of kindness and sympathy. He
was busily engaged in applying cold water to
my head.
' I have been uneasy about you,' he said, in
answer to my inquiring gaze, ' but now, fortun
ately, the fever has gone ; it was the crisis, and
you have taken a favourable turn.'
' What has happened to me 1 Where am I ?'
I asked, trying to collect my scattered thoughts.
' In the hospital. You were left, as is usually
the case, without any care ; the surgeon was
ordered to look after you, but the local surgeons
are not in the habit of troubling themselves
much about their patients.'
'And who are you?' I asked.
' A companion of misfortune.'
' In hospital — a companion of misfortune ; and,
if I remember right, I was to be shut up with a
madman.' ' I am he,' he said, smiling bitterly.
I looked at him with horror.

6 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
' Oh ! don't fear me, I am a quiet madman ,-
wicked with the wicked, I become docile with
kind people. You will not be annoyed by me ;
on the contrary, I will try to assuage your suf
ferings by every means in my power.'
These words were spoken in the gentlest
manner, and in his blue eyes there was so much
kindliness and sympathy that I was at a loss
what to think. Madmen do not speak thus. He
evidently guessed my thoughts, because he added,,
' Do not strain your mind in trying to under
stand it all, it will all come right in the end.
Now you require perfect rest. God is good and
merciful. If Uke Daniel you have been thrown
into a lion's den, our Heavenly Father will keep
the victim from the claws of the wild beast.'
All this was to me incomprehensible. I tried
in vain to collect my scattered thoughts, but I
was too weak for the effort ; present impressions
and fears for the future were knocking against
each other in my helpless brain, the patriarchal
form of the old man, faintly Ughted up by the
dying lamp, glimmered now and then before my
weakened sight till sometimes it seemed to
reach to gigantic proportions. At last, worn
out by what I took to be the creation of a dis
eased imagination, I fell asleep.

THE MADMAN. 7
The next day I was awakened by a loud
noise. Several persons were talking in my
room. ' This is not the first time,' I heard the doctor
say. ' You cannot be depended upon.'
' I was unable to leave the ward,' answered
the hospital surgeon.
'Everything is possible where there is good
will. It is lucky that no accident has occurred.
No. 6 is off in the clouds.'
' He is off,' cried the old man ; ' yes, he is off,
only not he but I, and thou hast remained, thou
brazen-faced wretch to drink my blood and eat
my bread. Perhaps you all think I despaired —
oh, no ! I laugh, see, I laugh,' and he chuckled
a wild laugh.
' Remain here,' said the doctor on leaving, ' I
will return in the evening.'
' Easy to say remain,' muttered the surgeon,
under his breath ; ' I daresay they will leave me
here without my breakfast, and perhaps without
my dinner too. Between a madman and a  '
He looked at me.
'And that one already half-dead-^-a nice
prospect, certainly.'
' Then return where you came from,' shouted
the old man, rising from his chair and pointing

8 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
menacingly towards the door. ' I received you
as a guest into my house, though you had the
stamp of crime upon your brow, and you sold
me, Uke Judas, for thirty pieces of silver.'
'Silence, old fellow, do you understand; if
you will not leave off your ravings, I will have
the orderlies in and have you tied up. You
know I don't like joking.'
This threat produced an instantaneous effect
on the old man ; his face, which had been in
flamed with anger, now expressed only fear and
humility; pale and trembling, he folded his hands
as if in prayer.
' Have pity upon me, don't kill me ; and you,
woman, remember that I wished to raise and
ennoble ; there wiU be a search-judgment. I
will not blame you, I will take all on myself,
only let me return home once more that I may
once more see my birthplace — my poor old
mother.' ' She must be very old, this woman, judging
by your age— a hundred or so,' said the surgeon,
cynically, twisting a cigarette.
' Oh, yes, old, very old, but she is dead. She
loved me — mothers love differently from wives.
How quiet and peaceful was our Ufe ! Birds
sang in the evening, the woods were green 

THE MADMAN. 9
everything was so still and happy ; and now — '
and the poor man bent his head and wept.
' Always the same story — after a storm rain,
after rain a storm,' muttered the surgeon ; ' one
cannot even enjoy some fun with this fool of a
madman, and the other one sleeps on.'
Horrified by aU I heard, and weakened by
illness, I did not open my eyes.
' Let him sleep,' added the surgeon ; ' he is
better off so.'
The old man was still sobbing, the young one
smoked on, and silence reigned. I soon fell
asleep ; on awakening, I again found myself
alone with my companion. I suppose the sur
geon had availed himself of the first opportunity
to sUp away.
' Thank God,' said the old man, approaching
my bed, ' the fever has quite left you. After a
few weeks' convalescence, not a trace will
remain of your long and dangerous illness.'
While he was speaking, I looked at him at
tentively. I remembered the violent scenes I
had witnessed, the incoherent words I had
heard him pronounce, and I knew not what to
imagine. He evidently guessed my thoughts, as a faint
blush overspread his features.

10 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
' I have very likely said something irrational,'
he said, in some confusion ; ' don't pay any at
tention to it. Misfortunes have affected my
temper— I become violent and angry without a
cause,' and, changing the conversation, he began
to speak of something else.
He spoke rationally upon aU things, and,
what was more, he was a highly-accomphshed
man. In our long talks he touched upon almost
every topic, and not only was he familiar with
all the sciences, but in his judgments of men,
things, and events, he gave evidences of an
unusual tact and a great knowledge of human
nature. Yet during the doctor's or surgeon's
visits his whole demeanour completely changed,.
his usuaUy calm face reddened, he frowned, his
eyes sparkled with anger, and unconnected
words escaped from his trembhng lips. I was
at a loss what to think of this man.
At last, emboldened by the many proofs of
kindness he had given me, and anxious to eluci
date what appeared incomprehensible, I said,
' I fancy you dislike both the doctor and the
surgeon.' 'Dislike them !— why should I? I don't
know them, but they are the unconscious tools
of my executioners. Old people act sometimes

THE MADMAN. 11
Uke children ; unable to reach those who whip
them, they revenge themselves upon the rod
which hurts them.' And his eyes for a minute
sparkled with anger, but he quickly calmed
down, and, taking my hand, he added — ' Never
allude to that, I entreat you.'
Days passed on; my health graduaUy im
proved. The old man's society was a comfort
and a pleasure to me. We spoke upon every
thing but our personal affairs, as, following his
example, I never mentioned my past life. He
constantly gave me new proofs of affection, of
almost paternal care, and during my long con
valescence tried to forestal my sUghtest wish.
I could see that he became daily more attached
to me ; therefore, when one day the doctor told
me that the hospital ward was empty, and that
I could be placed there, I flatly refused.
' That entirely depends upon yourself,' said
Esculapius ; ' but I should think that you would
be more comfortable there, and certainly safer.
If you remain here, be careful, agree to every
thing, and don't wonder at anything; that is
aU the advice I can give you.'
My wish to continue with him so deUghted
my companion that, for the first time, his face
expressed no hatred in the doctor's presence.

12 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
Further, my evident sympathy broke through
the ice of his indifference. I felt that I had
gained his confidence, and only the remains of
his late distrust, or rather deeply-rooted habit
of hiding his thoughts and feelings, stopped the
words upon his lips. Guessing that he was
anxious to relate his sorrows to me, I set him
the example by recounting the sad events of
my life. Having listened with great attention,
he related what follows : — .
' There was a time when I was happy ; those
moments are long passed, yet their memory is
so impressed upon my mind that I see as clearly
to-day, after the lapse of many years, the small
est details of my early life as if they did not
belong to the past. My name is K  ; my
family ranks among the noblest in the land ; my
ancestors filled important posts, and rendered
great service to their country, and were often
rewarded with titles and distinctions. My father
died while I was still a child, and I can hardly
remember that severe and dignified form, clad
in a general's uniform and covered with crosses
and decorations. My mother brought me up.
Do you know our matrons ? If they have not
fallen into the hands of a foreign governess,
and imbibed French habits with their jargon,

THE MADMAN. 13.
and have breathed from chUdhood the pure and
healthy air of our land, then all the Sclavonic
virtues develop themselves freely in their souls.
Such was my mother, the daughter of a large
landowner ; she did not seek idle pleasures in a
foreign land, and was not. even anxious for the
gay Ufe of the metropoUs. Having boundless
confidence in her husband, to whom she was
tenderly attached, she left him to fulfil the
duties of his high station, while her own life
was spent in the management of their extensive
possessions. She was universally beloved, as
she was deeply imbued with the feeUng that
the thousands of famiUes still remaining in serf
dom ought to find in her help and protection.
After my father's death, though mourning deeply
her widowhood, she did not give way to un
availing despair, as do those who are deficient
in strength of mind, but took up her work with
redoubled energy. Her duties were numerous ;
the improvement of the social state of her serfs,
the management of a colossal fortune, and my
education constituted the aim of her existence,
whUe an unusual strength of mind and a deep
sense of her obUgations helped to carry her
through her undertakings. How she loved me,
that dear, dear mother ! I was her past, her

14 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
present, and her future ; in me centred aU her
thoughts. UnwUling to part from me, and per
haps afraid of the pernicious influence of the
habits and customs of large cities upon my
youthful mind, she resolved to have me educated
at home. When I reached a suitable age she
chose my tutor, a man who had been a pro
fessor, full of knowledge, quiet, modest, and
gentlemanly. He imparted his acquirements to
me, while she moulded my character. Her
boundless faith in humanity was instilled into
me. Could she doubt vh-tue, she in whose pure
soul a wicked thought never lurked, and I,
living in this atmosphere of peace and happiness,
having no communication with the world and
its passions, could I guess that beyond the tem
ple of family affections flourish wickedness,
treachery, and baseness ? Books teach theory,
not experience. Round me I only saw smiling
faces, and heard words of gratitude and love.
I breathed the pure air of our home, and be-
Ueved the whole world was the same.
' My tutor had deep erudition, but knew Uttle
or nothing of social life ; besides, his ideas were
founded upon the times when it was thought
that people of good birth occupied a position
above, and had nothing in common with, the

THE MADMAN. 15
rest of humanity. If sometimes I asked him a
question outside the sphere of books he in
variably answered,
' " The world is for you, not you for the world.
Highly placed by your birth and fortune, you
wUl never have to mix with the Ufe of the
masses ; why wish to fathom what you will but
touch superficiaUy ?"
' In my long conversations with my mother
we touched upon aU kinds of topics, and all of
them, Uke the sun's rays, gathered up into one
focus, centred with her in our home circle. The
real world did not exist for me, or rather it
existed beautified and ideaUsed. Often in my
leisure moments I plunged into sweet dreams
evoked by my awakening imagination. Such a
state made me naturaUy partial to poetry. I
did not write my ideas upon paper, but I eager
ly read the works of our poets, and saw all my
surroundings through a poetical haze. On
emerging from chUdhood, I became fond of
soUtary walks, the beauties of Nature having
always a powerful charm. My heart, brimful of
love, saw in almost every creature a being like
unto myself. I even suspected a mysterious
world in the organic Ufe of apparently unfeeling
creatures. My imagination, inflamed by such

16 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
dangerous dreams, became eccentric and differ
ent from the accepted ideas of the world at
large; 'having no connection with my contempo
raries, I could not know that I was not as other
men are.
' My imagination once let loose was dissatis
fied even with the purest Christian love. " Why,"
I used to say, " should we call our brethren only
creatures fashioned like unto ourselves ? Why
consider as slaves all other beings who feel and
understand each other even as we do ? God
has created all, and has given all a right to live.
We wish to be highest ; have we any right to
be so? Physically weaker, we rule by the
power of our mind ; but the natural reason of
these animals, which we caU instinct, is it not
often far beyond all our book-learning ?"
' It is a weU-known fact that the property of
a sophistry is to engender a long line of succeed^-.
ing sophistries. He who has once stepped
within the charmed circle must evermore go on.
I, having once entered upon this abstract road,
waded deeper and deeper into senseless, self-born
aphorisms. There were times when, buoyed
up by a diseased imagination, I spoke to animals
and birds, and beheved that they understood
me ; and one • day, when a rich meadow had

THE MADMAN. 17
been mown near our house, I 'shed bitter tears
at the death of all the beautiful flowers lying at
my feet. My mother, a practical woman, far
removed from the slightest exaltation, not only
did not perceive these symptoms of a mind
wrongly directed, but took them for ebullitions
of childish innocence.
' " It is better," she used to say to the major,
an old friend of the family, " that my Paul re
mains a chUd so long ; in this way he wiU pass
the age of passion, and will at once emerge into
a man." ' My father's old brother-officers, who visited
us from time to time, failed to see any future
evU which might arise from this unnatural
state ; on the contrary, they admired me.
' " A girl — a real girl," the old major used to
say, with intense satisfaction. " This boy will
not waste his health and love in an unworthy
manner, and when he marries  "
' Here a severe look from my mother used to
stop him. Yearspassed in this way, and nothing
came to disturb the monotony of our existence,
except that my tutor, having finished my educa
tion, was presented with a farmhouse by my
mother, where he went to Uve surrounded by
his books. This man was naturally so silent,
VOL. II. c

18 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
and his spare time was so completely taken up
by the compilation of an enormous grammar
which he never finished, that he occupied an in
significant place in our house, and his removal
was scarcely felt. I was now one and twenty,
and, thanks to my mentor, I was so well-inform
ed that many a young man educated in the best
public schools might have envied me my erudi
tion. I did not relinquish my studies; the
natural sciences, by the aid of which I could
partially penetrate the mystery enveloping the
existence of so many beings, had an indescriba
ble charm for me. I spent days in watching the
habits of different animals, in admiring the in
dustry of ants, in trying to discover by what means
birds subsisted; and my imagination knew so
well how to idealise every detaU that I often
tried to catch a sound in their twittering which
would give me the key to their language.
While this was going on, important business
caUed my mother to St. Petersburg. She was
loath to leave her summer residence, her daily
occupations, her poor people, but there was no
help for it. It never crossed her mind that
she could be separated from me ¦ for a few
months, and I, on my part, though much
attached to this country house, which was the

THE MADMAN. 19
whole world to me, never admitted such a
possibiUty. I must even own that, though
rather frightened at first, I soon became so
curious to know this new life, of which I had
gathered an imperfect idea from books, that
I became feverishly anxious to experience the
hitherto unknown sensations. Arriving in the
metropohs, I was astounded and charmed. I
gazed upon everything with respect, almost
with fear.
' The movement and noise of a great town
seemed to me an abnormal chaos. I at first
imagined that aU these people must be mad,
or that some extraordinary event had stimu
lated the inhabitants to sudden action ; gradu
aUy I became accustomed to this tumult, and
looked weU about me. I could never, however,
completely rid myself of my natural shyness,
and perhaps because of the great contrast I
presented to the youths of the day, or on
account of my position as an only child and
heir to millions, this shyness was not looked
upon unfavourably by the upper society which
I frequented with my mother ; in fact, it
was rather appreciated. AU the senators' and
generals' wives looked upon me with satisfac
tion, caUing me " that bibUcal young man," or
c 2

20 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
"New Joseph." These people were reUcs of
the past, living in the remembrance of days
gone by. I had not therefore any opportunity
of knowing the real great world, its glamour
and inward hollowness. In the society with
which my mother surrounded me, I perceived
much that was ridiculous ; a conventionality
pushed to the very extreme, coldness and stiff
ness, while side by side with these faults
flourished all the Sclavonic virtues — probity,
fear of God, and not a shadow of that gilded
demoralization of which I had read in my books.
So much was this the case that I took that vice
for an invention of the writer, and, judging by
my surroundings and my young and pure heart,
I trusted humanity.
'In our metropolis there are many coteries,
living each in its own sphere, and separated
from each other by the demarcations of social
position and different ideas, the only point of
general union being the charitable societies.
The St. Petersburg ladies aU take an active
part in charitable institutions, and therefore
hospitals, refuges, etc., become the points where
aU classes meet. In charitable institutions an
aristocratic lady may often be seen sitting
beside a rich but vulgar merchant's wife, the

THE MADMAN. 21
banker's wife making a coUection, helped by a
maid-of-honour : but these momentary fusions,
created by the common interests of humanity,
cease upon the threshold of the institution, and
each patroness, having finished her work, re
turns into her particular circle. The sphere in
which we lived was caUed satirically the " Pan
theon of antique mummies," and was even more
exclusive than the rest. To these remnants of
the past not only was birth and dignity indis
pensable, but these serious matrons and high dig
nities had separated themselves from the rest of
the aristocracy because they considered it too
volatile, too much imbued with French ideas, and
too lenient towards easy morals.
' The high birth, social position, and princely
fortune of my mother were the reasons that,
as soon as we arrived in the capital, the charit
able community summoned her officially to take
her part in its work. She was nominated pat
roness, and several wards were placed under
her supervision, and she, full of Christian charity,
spent all her leisure time in this occupation.
There she often met a person called Anastasia
Nikolayvna Diergun. Mrs. Diergun was the
widow of a rich landed proprietor, but she did
not belong to my mother's circle : her character

22 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
and ideas precluded her from it. In that set
reigned a chiUy past; she, though no longer
young, lived in the present. The great world
of the capital, with its bustle, glamour, and
tumult, had an inexpressible charm for her. She
was a woman of forty or more, but, thanks to
a careful toilet, and to the best milliners and
hairdressers, she appeared much younger. Her
features were regular, her voice sweet and low,
and, above all, she possessed the faculty of
-gaining the friendship of those whose good
graces she desired. She lived in great style,
and received the most distinguished personages;
she was religious after the manner of women
of the world, and she performed her charitable
duties in the most exemplary manner, abandon
ing for them fashionable concerts and morning
parties. ' It was generally believed that her husband
had left her large possessions in the Razan pro
vince, and her income must have been con
siderable, as she denied herself nothing. Ill-
natured people whispered that she had caught
an old millionaire, married him, and had com
pletely obtained the mastery over him. In this
way, having become the sole mistress of an
enormous fortune, she proceeded to spend it in

THE MADMAN. 23
dress, foreign travel, &c. ; and it was added that '
the unfortunate husband, shut up in the country
while his wife shone like a star, died, fallen both
in body and mind, having had recourse to drink
to drown his sorrows. All these rumours were
sometimes aggravated by whispers about an
attache to the Russian embassy in Paris, and
even, such is human Ul-nature, one of the pillars
of the Russian stage. No one could, however,
beUeve these scandalous reports, as Anastasia
counted as many friends as she had enemies, so
that every act of her existence was explained
favourably or otherwise according to the source
from which it proceeded. A striking proof of
the versatUity of human judgment was shown
in the opinions of different people upon her con
duct towards her only daughter who, though
brought up at home, was never seen in society.
Her enemies affirmed that it was the jealousy of
an old beauty who, afraid of being eclipsed by
her own chUd, had consigned her to solitude
and ennui. Her friends took her part, explain
ing that she could not do otherwise, as it would
be highly injurious for a young girl, almost a
child, to be mixing in society, and that her
studies were more fitting for her than balls or
dresses. There were even some who said the

24 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
daughter was labouring under some natural
defect. ' But all this was mere assumption, as no one,
not even Anastasia's most intimate friends, had
ever seen the daughter ; it was even not gener
ally known how old the girl was, or whether
she was ugly or pretty, and if an indiscreet
person inquired after Paraksovia Ivanovna (such
was her name) her mother invariably answered :
' " She is learning her history and grammar ;
let her learn, it is not right to take girls of her
age from their studies."
' Sometimes an old French governess, Made
moiselle Julie, made her appearance in the
¦ drawing-room, but she soon disappeared to go
as she said to her " chere eleve."
' My mother was not one of those persons who
are eager to make new acquaintances ; and she
had a way of keeping people in their place
without giving offence by the slightest rudeness,
or repulsing them with studied coldness and
pride ; and without being aware of it she inspired
universal respect. Her connections with Anas
tasia were constant ; almost daily she mot her
in the institutions placed in her charge, and the
latter came sometimes to ask for instructions
with regard to charitable duties ; beyond this my

THE MADMAN. 25
mother had nothing in common with Mrs.
Diergun. ' During this time, being home-sick after our
country life, my solitary walks, and woodland
friends, I spent my time in studying the natural
sciences, having brought the necessary books
with me. I stole aU the hours I could from my
social duties to learn the habits of my favourites,
and, in order to be as Uttle separated from my
mother as possible, I used to take my. books into
the drawing-room, and there I sometimes saw
An astasia.
'My home education and the life I had led
did not tend to make me very observant, and,
even if I could have read character justly, the
conversations I Ustened to, which touched only
upon charitable subjects, would have taught me
nothing. Busy with my books, I did not pay
much attention to words whioh struck my ears
Uke inarticulate sounds, but the sound remained
unwUlingly in my memory. Mrs. Diergun
possessed a most melodious voice ; when she
talked one was reminded of low, superhuman
music. That musical voice once heard could
never be forgotten. Her look, sweet yet piercing
had something in it magnetic, yet she was not a
sympathetic person. A chilling sensation seem-

26 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
ed to proceed from her ; she attracted and re
pelled at the same time, and her look fiUed me
with an unreasoning fear. Such was her effect
upon me : I looked at her with terror, I listened
to her with pleasure. I felt that all in her was
antagonistic towards me, and yet, when her
carriage stopped before our door, I remained in
the drawing-room.
' My mother, from her character and age, was
little inclined to absorbing outward impressions,
and yet this stranger was slowly and impercep
tibly gaining an influence over her, and, what
was more, this inexpressible sympathy was not,
as in my case, accompanied by an instinctive
aversion. She liked her without caring to own
it. I noticed several times that when the time
approached at which Anastasia used to come to
report what she had done, or inquire about new
works of charity, my mother's eyes would wan
der with impatience towards the door, and that
her face wore a look of contentment when Mrs.
Diergun appeared.
'There are enigmas still unguessed in Nature;
to their number should be added the influence
some people have over all their surroundings.
This indescribable influence is unsupported by
any lasting sentiment, springs from no percep-

THE MADMAN. 27
tible cause, and there are even cases in which
the voice of reason tries in vain to cool the
unexplained impulse of the heart, the unnatural
attraction being stronger than all reasoning. It
is not affection, neither is it sympathy, as Ave
often do not even know the character of the
person who has such an effect upon us, and yet
we foUow the attraction. Our credulous fore
fathers called it witchery; we who endea
vour to caU things by names that are more in
accordance with the times we live in think this
enigma allied to magnetism ; but even we are
unable to explain the cause or the action of
this sensation. Slowly and imperceptibly Mrs.
Diergun changed from a stranger into an
acquaintance, and then from an acquaintance
merged into a friend. This all happened by
degrees, until at last my mother became so
accustomed to her society that she could not do
without it, and neglected other society for that
of her new friend. I must own that " the relics
of the past " did not much care for this imper-
sonification of the present, and she, knowing it,
managed so as to meet them as little as pos
sible. If at any time one of the ladies be
longing to the aforesaid coterie wondered at
her constant visits to our house, my mother

28 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
would invariably take her part, remarking that
no one should take up unfounded dislikes. And
an unfounded dislike it really could be caUed,
as, though people said many things against
Anastasia, nothing could be proved against her ;
no fact could be brought forward ; and is there
a person in the world against whom evil tongues
will not wag? And even these great ladies,
saturated with the chilliness of their lives, were
they so free from slander when in then youth
the bright world lay before them ? The woman
they disliked belonged to the first society, and
it was no fault of hers, but rather the outcome
of her character, that she preferred baUs and
parties to the dull propriety of their reunions.
No one upon that account could brand her with
any of the faults which the world does not for
give ; her charming gaiety never outstepped
the limits of good-breeding, whUe with a word
or a look she often gained the good-will of those
who formerly disliked her. She hardly ever
spoke of herself, and only then when it could
not be helped. Pious and religious, she man
aged so well that her charitable actions became
knoAvn, as it were, by accident, against her wish
and without her knowledge. If she helped a
poor family or rescued an innocent girl, all St.

THE MADMAN. 29
Petersburg soon knew of it through the indis
cretion of her man-servant or her lady's-maid ;
she not only never mentioned such a thing, but
appeared to be displeased at anyone having
heard of it, affirming that in works of mercy the
right hand should not knoAv what the left one
does. ' Things came to such a state that not a day
passed but either she came to us or we went
to her. She Uved in great style in one of the
finest houses in the Nevski Prospect. The fur
niture, the servants, and the whole reception
were in keeping with the position she occupied.
It naturaUy happened in the course of events
that we had opportunities of seeing her daugh
ter, who was hidden from the world solely
through a settled system of education.
'This girl was neither deformed, as some
said, nor a beauty. She was about sixteen,
pale, thin, sickly, and looking much younger
than her age — in fact, almost a chUd; whUe,.
like most girls of her years, she was timid and
awkward, and answered, " Oui, monsieur," to
any question one asked her. Anastasia began
often to bring her when she came to our house,
saying that Paraksovia (Pasza, that was her
name) had become very much attached to my

oO SIBERIAN PICTURES.
mother. And this must have been tme, as the
girl perfectly clung to her.
' Now, after the lapse of so many years, when
I think of this period of my existence, which
was the prologue of so many deceptions, I per
ceive that, though many things seemed to go
naturally, yet an unknown instinct seemed to
point out danger to me in the atmosphere sur
rounding us. The impression Mrs. Diergun
used to make upon me was always transitory ;
in her absence I went back to my distrust of
her. Yet 1 had not the slightest cause for it,
and, seeing what pleasure my mother found in
her society, I used to upbraid myself as if I had
been guUty of ingratitude. Paraksovia seemed
to take up so little space that I never even
noticed her ; she usually sat beside my mother,
and appeared to be listening with the greatest
attention to every word that fell from her Ups.
My mother would often draw the girl to her
more closely, smooth her fair curls, and kiss her
tenderly. The business which had brought us to the
metropolis was at last satisfactorUy ended.
There was no reason that our sojourn there
should be prolonged, all the more as our country
house and the poor and the sick needed our

THE MADMAN. 31
presence at home. On the other hand, my
mother was very loth to part with Anastasia,
whose society had become indispensable to her,
or with Paraksovia, whom she loved as a
daughter. Mrs. Diergun, as if she guessed the
wish, offered to accompany us. My mother
accepted this proposal Avith the greatest grati
tude, knowing full well how great a sacrifice it
was for a person so fond of balls and gaiety to
exchange the busy life of the capital for the
/solitude of the country for her sake. As for
Paraksovia, she cried for joy.
'We all left St. Petersburg together, except
the old French governess, Avho remained behind.
' After our return home I went back to my
contemplative life, and to my lonely walks which
had ever possessed such attraction in my eyes ;
thus I had fewer opportunities than in town of
being with our guests. From the very first,
Anastasia so managed as not to be in anybody's
way, and, occupied with needlework intended
for the poor of the place, she gave her friend
perfect liberty of action. Seeing her apparently
so happy in this occupation, and so thoroughly
imbued with the habits and ways of our estab
lishment, who would have guessed that she had
ever deUghted in frequenting balls or parties ?

32 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
All the servants were pleased with her, even the
old major, usuaUy so stiff with strangers, could
not praise her enough. Pasza hardly left my
mother's side, accompanying her in all her ex
cursions and never seeming so happy as when
with her. I still paid no attention to her ; how
could a child of that age interest a young man
of my years, and of my character ? Several times
wishing to please my mother, I brought some
small presents from the neighbouring town,
presents which she received with a schoolgirl's
bow and a scarcely audible whisper of " Merci,
monsieur." ' So passed weeks and months, bringing no
change with them. Mrs. Diergun spoke once
or twice about leaving us, in the fear, she said,
that a longer stay would be unwelcome to us.
But it was eAudently done for form's sake, as she
well knew how necessary she had become to my
mother ; for herself she seemed perfectly satis
fied with her lot. Her friendship with my
mother came to such a pitch that I noticed
there was a secret between them, which my
mother, who had formerly shared every thought
with me, did not communicate to me. They
often whispered together looking at me, at other
times they became suddenly silent when I en-

THE MADMAN. 33
tered the room. I was hurt at this, but, accus
tomed to impUcit obedience, I tried to hide my
pain. ' How often stUlness reigning in the air bears
in its bosom the greatest convulsion. The sky
is serene, not a cloud mars the horizon, suddenly
a fierce wind springs up, driving before it thou
sands of threatening clouds, while the thunder
bolt, hidden within their dark bosoms, strikes a
breast which but a moment ago was full of peace
and happiness. The same thing happens in
human Ufe. From my earUest infancy I knew
not the meaning of the word unhappiness ; alas I
it was to strike me as suddenly as it was un
foreseen. I shaU never forget that moment. It
was in the spring. The day was one of those
in which Nature, emerging from her wintry
numbness, pours happiness into the soul of man.
Anxious to profit by the fine weather, I strolled
to a neighbouring wood, intending to start upon
one of my long and soUtary rambles. Mrs.
Diergun and her daughter were iu the drawing-
room, and my mother was pursuing her daily oc
cupations in her own room. Unconscious as we
usuaUy are of the blow about to fall, I inhaled
with dehght spring's reviving air, and whUe I
listened to the song of the birds my thoughts
VOL. II. D

34 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
were far, far away in the land of dreams. An
old servant suddenly appearing before me in
terrupted these beatitudes. He was pale, agi
tated, and trembling.
' " Our dear mistress is ill," he stammered.
' The tone of voice struck my ear, though I
did not take in the words. A few minutes
before I had seen my mother smiling, cheerful,
and happy. If in days gone by a shadow
crossed my golden dreams, its form was unde
cided and impalpable ; being happy, I could not
understand misfortune. Not knowing what
awaited me, and uneasy at the news of my
mother's illness, I ran quickly home.
'She was lying on her bed, pale, motionless,
insensible. Mrs. Diergun was supporting her
head with a pillow, Pasza was sobbing. With
a cry of horror I rushed towards her; Mrs.
Diergun bade me be silent.
'"Courage," she said, "all this may pass
away; don't be frightened. Everything has
been done. She has taken reviving medicines
and I have sent for the doctor who wUl be here
immediately." ' " Good God, what has happened ?"I groaned.
'"A momentary weakness seized her while
passing through this room and she became pale,

THE MADMAN. 35
staggered and fainted ; fortunately my daughter
and myself were near."
' I looked with gratitude at my mother's friend
and at her daughter who, pressing the motion
less hands to her Ups, kept murmuring,
' " I loved her so, I loved her so much !"
' These two women seemed to me guardian
angels sent to save me from misery. My mother
in the meanwhile had opened her eyes.
' " My son — Pasza ! are you both here ? 'Tis
AveU. I know not Avhat has happened to me. I
feel a pain in my heart that I never had before."
' " Dear friend," interrupted Mrs. Diergun, " be
easy, do not fear, we are near you."
' " I know yon all love me truly ; my son
— Pasza, and you, Anastasia."
' It was the first time I had heard my mother
caU her by her Christian name. I did not then
know it would also be the last.
'The sound of the doctor's carriage put an
end to this sad conversation. The doctor en
tered the room. Shall I picture to you these
moments of indescribable suffering, every second
a torture, which seemed to have passed away
all too quickly? The doctor declared that
my mother was suffering from aneurism of the
heart.
d2

36 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
'When, after all remedies had been vainly
administered, the awful truth burst upon me for
the first time, my mother made a sign to send
away the doctor and the servants, and appeared
anxious for a few minutes alone with me. Her
friend was leaving the room with the others.
'"Remain," whispered my mother, feebly;
" and you, Pasza, do not leave me ; what I
have to say chiefly concerns you."
' The room being cleared, my mother took my
hand and said,
' " My son, you have been aU-in-all to me, my
happiness, my comfort, my future ; leaving you
as I am now for ever, I desire a last proof of
your affection — be a husband to her whom I
love as a daughter. You wiU promise this, wUl
you not?"
' Thought did not exist for me then ; despair
ing, annihUated, I only saw my dying mother,
only heard her voice. I promised mechanicaUy,
hardly aware of what I was saying. A smile
of satisfaction illuminated her wan face; she
joined our hands and murmured faintly,
' " Thanks, my son ; now I can die in peace,
because my warmest wish will be fulfilled— my
children wiU be happy."
'I felt the convulsive grasp of her hand;

THE MADMAN. '37
there was a murmur, a groan, and then no
more. I fainted. The blow which fell upon
me was so sudden, so unforeseen, that it shook
my whole being. I thought it Avould be impos
sible for me to survive her who had been aU-in-
all to me. I remember nothing, neither the
gathering of our neighbours, the funeral, nor the
days that foUowed. I was in delirium ; the doctor
who had been caUed in for my mother did not
leave the house. Youth and strong vitality con
quered disease. Oh, why did I not then perish ?
' When I regained consciousness, I found my
self surrounded by Mrs. Diergun's watchful
care. My sUghtest wish was anticipated; all
was done that my dangerous state required, and
every precaution was taken to keep my mind
from dwelling upon painful subjects. My mo
ther's friend behaved with rare tact; she never
offered empty consolation, which in such a case
would but increase the sorrow ; on the contrary,
she spoke much about the many virtues and
angeUc character of the beloved dead, and,
mingling her tears with mine, insensibly light
ened my grief. Inexhaustible in her means of
amusing my sick and tired mind, she was always
by my side, and, when doubt or hidden despair
threatened to overcome my Christian resolution

38' SLBERIAN PICTURES.
to submit to the decrees of Providence, she was
able to pour into my soul, if not perfect peace,
at least a momentary strength. Submitting to
her guidance, I conceived a real gratitude to
wards her for her moral support, and the mis
givings I had formerly nourished against her no
longer found a place in my heart.
' Her daughter never once made her appear
ance in my room. She occupied such an in
significant place in my life that at first I did
not even notice her absence. Sometimes my
mother's last words came before me, but, weak
ened by illness, I took them for the creations of
a diseased brain. It was only later, when my
strength began to return, that I reaUsed my Ufe
henceforth must be forced into a new channel.
I never, however, fully fathomed my situation,
nor realised the lot this change might bring to
me. Benumbed, weighed down by illness and
grief, I Uved from day to day, never heeding
what would come next. Besides, the future
seemed very distant, as, not knowing Pasza's
exact age, I looked upon her as still a child.
' At the end of two or three weeks, I left my
room. Mrs. Diergun had taken the control of
the household, and had in every respect altered
the internal arrangements of om- rooms. Be-

THE MADMAN. • 39
ginning by changing the furniture, she ended
by altering the names of many rooms in the
palace ; everything was metamorphosed, and
the consequence was that my first impressions
were less painful than they would otherwise
have been. External objects produce great
impressions upon us ; the dumb companions of
our happiness become, after the loss of one we
love, witnesses, as it were, of that which never
can return, and by their presence re-open half-
healed wounds. With wonderful tact, Mrs.
Diergun spared me this first, and often most
poignant, sorrow. Leaning upon her arm, I
entered a room we had hardly ever used. A
few moments afterwards, her daughter ran in,
and muttered one of the usual phrases Avith
which sick people are greeted on their recovery,
and which she said in the most matter-of-fact
manner. ' For the first time I looked at her with some
attention. There was no indication upon her
pale, chUd-Uke features either of the conscious
ness which a girl would naturally feel in the
presence of him with whom her life was to
be spent, or of any other emotion. She bounded
in, sat down beside me, and centered her whole
attention upon a large bunch of flowers which

40 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
she intended to arrange into a nosegay. After
some common-place sentences had been ex
changed, her mother rose, pretending she was
needed upon pressing household affairs, and
adding, '"I leave you together, my children. En
gaged couples should make ample acquaint
ance." ' Though these words only expressed our
mutual relations, they hurt me. Bowed down
by illness, and often only half-conscious, I
had submitted to my fate without entering
into details, or thinking of the importance of
the impending event ; but the name of " child "
on strange lips seemed to me a blasphemy,
and the word " engaged " grated upon my
ear. ' " And you," I said, turning to Pasza, " have
you become used to this idea ?"
' " To what idea ?" she asked, without inter
rupting the arrangement of her flowers.
' " To the thought of our union."
'"Ahl are you talking about that ? That
is quite a settled thing. You would do better
to advise me what to do with this rose. I
fancy these pinks would be more suitable in its
place."

THE MADMAN. 41
' My first conversation with my fiancfo was
thus carried on. I give it you as a sample
of all the others we had together. Led by
a natural curiosity, I sometimes tried to know
her character, at least to become acquainted
with her ideas and tastes, but I was never
able to accompUsh it. Every time I ventured
upon a question which might help towards my
enUghtenment, Pasza would change the con
versation, parrying my question with a trifle, or
with some childish observation.
' A feAV more weeks passed. The grief I felt
for my mother's loss gradually became a tender
sadness; the mention of her name no longer
evoked a burst of despair, but I experienced
the sUent and constant pain which foUows upon
any sudden shock. By degrees I became ac
customed to my orphaned state, and to under
stand the necessity of submission to my fate.
Matters, however, stood differently as to the
change in my Ufe exacted from me by my
dying mother. I knew fuU weU that this mar
riage must come to pass, but I looked upon
it as an indefinite fact, the execution of which
lay in the remote future. Often while watching
her running in the garden, or occupied with
some chUdish amusement, I used to speculate

42 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
what she would be like when years had devel
oped her character, given her corn-age, and
matured her judgment. In this small person,
full of schoolgirl tricks, it was impossible to
see anything but a child who would only in
time become a Avoman.
'Things were in this state, when one day,
after the visit of some neighbours who had
come ostensibly to condole, but in reahty to
satisfy their curiosity, Mrs. Diergun took my
arm, and, telUng her daughter to remain in
the room, led me to the furthest part of the
garden. She was much agitated ; her lips
tightly compressed, her eyes gleaming, with a
bright flush upon her face that denoted hidden
anger and indignation. She pointed to a seat
Avithout uttering a word, and we sat a few
minutes in silence; she occupied in drawing
figures upon the sand with the point of her
umbreUa, while I, fancying that something had
happened, and unable to guess what, awaited
enUghtenment. '"This situation is unbearable," she at last
muttered. ' I looked up with astonishment, and saw that
her face was covered with tears.
' " What is the matter ? What has happened ?"

THE MADMAN. 43
' " You ask it ! Have yon not seen it your
self — not heard it ? You were in the drawing-
room when they came."
' I was. And this visit, and their condolences
— which proceded from etiquette, and not from
the heart — appeared to me, if not in bad taste,
unnecessary. '"Nothing more?"
' " What else could one see in the matter but
that ?"
' " That is what hurts me most. I cannot
think quietly that the honour of her who wiU
bear your name is so indifferent to you."
' " I don't understand. Your daughter is a
mere child."
' " She is over sixteen. A girl of that age
cannot be considered a chUd. But that is not
the question. When these ladies entered the
room, I saw by their smiles and innuendos
that my daughter's situation in this house, and
my own, was the object of severe criticism.
You were talking to the major, and you did
not notice. I do not wish to upbraid you
for your inattention ; it is excusable after
the severe loss you have sustained; but can
you not understand that, in not wishing to
forsake you in such a terrible moment, I have

44 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
exposed my daughter to the slander of evfl
tongues ?"
'I have already mentioned that, in spite of
the impression Mrs. Diergun could make, she
was not sympathetic. Her animated reproaches
caUed out all my slumbering antipathy.
' " I am very grateful to you for having re
mained in my house, but, having done it of
your own free will, you must have been aware
of the consequences. You ought then either
to have escaped them in time, or, having ac
cepted the situation, not paid any attention to
the wagging of idle tongues, which in reaUty
do not deserve to be taken in this way to
heart." ' " You say so ? But I ought not to wonder;
you have never lived in the world, and are not
aware of the consequences of a momentary in
discretion. Fortunately I am here, her mother ;
it is for me to remedy the evil, which wUl be
more easily done as worldly considerations agree
completely with my poor friend's last wishes.
I did not speak to you about it sooner, as the
blow which fell upon us was too vividly before
our eyes for anything else to find room in my
mind. Now public opinion makes it necessary
that I should. A few minutes before you stood

THE MADMAN. 45
beside your mother's dying bed, she entreated
me never to forsake you, begging me to be a
second mother to you. ' I know,' she added, ' that
such relations cannot exist without famUy ties,
therefore I request that the marriage we used
to look forward to as a distant termination of
our dreams be celebrated without further loss
of time.' These were her words ; in remaining
here I have but fulfilled my promise, the rest
depends upon you."
' What could I do ? Had I any right, know
ing my mother's last wish regarding this mar
riage, to think that this unseemly haste, which
offended my feelings, was not in accordance
with her desires? Later, when I knew Mrs.
Diergun more thoroughly, I became convinced
that the emergency was of her own making ; at
that time, however, I was not able to know it.
Besides, my home education, extreme youth,
and complete ignorance of Ufe made me easy
to lead. My wiU, accustomed to bend to her
whom I considered as a part of myself, had no
chance of becoming strengthened. I looked
upon what was now happening to me as irre
vocable ; iU-luck had placed a cunning, design
ing woman in my path — a woman who acted
only for her own advantage — was it strange

46 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
that she was able to make me her blind tool ?
' All that followed appeared to my mind as a
feverish dream. Preparations for our marriage
were made, and aU the necessary steps taken,
while I, the chief actor in the drama about to
be enacted, remained a powerless witness of
what was taking place around me. Anxious to
carry out my mother's wishes, I gave my con
sent, and that was all they required. As if
guessing that the ceremony, usuaUy so gay and
fuU of promise of future happiness, was to be
the prologue of a terrible tragedy, I did not
ponder upon the consequences, but, shutting
my eyes to aU that surrounded me, I plunged
into the past which was never to return. Now
and then I tried to begin a conversation with
my fiancee, to become better acquainted with
her character, tastes, and thoughts ; but these
efforts were never crowned with success. Pasza
listened to me inattentively, answered at ran
dom, or interrupted me with some childish ob
servation. If her mother was present, she al
ways answered for her daughter, putting into
her mouth ideas I am sure the girl never enter
tained. 'At last the marriage day arrived. Some of
our neighbours were present, as well as distant

THE MADMAN. 47
members of my family, and the most significant
act of my life was accomplished. It is hard to
describe what my feeUngs then Avere ; my state
partook of feverish excitement, hidden fear, and
indescribable presentiment. A weight was on
my breast which impeded my breathing, and
seemed to paralyse my thoughts. Such a state
can only be compared with the feehngsAve expe
rience before sudden atmospheric changes take
place. AU around us seems so still, not a breath
stirs the leaves or ruffles the surface of the
water, and yet in the burning, stifling air we
foresee the coming storm.
' During the ceremony I stood motionless
beside her to whom I was to swear eternal
faith, and the grave voice of the clergyman, the
pealing of the organ, and the sound of singing
struck upon my ears only as a chaos of confused
voices. I looked at her as she pronounced the
sacramental words. There was no expression
in her face, neither fear, joy, satisfaction, nor
dissent. She seemed to be tired by the length
of the ceremony, which interfered with her fa
vourite amusements. UnwiUingly I threw a
look at Mrs. Diergun, and I trembled. In the
eyes of that woman shone such a look of triumph
and joy that for the first time the question rose

48 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
before me that I might be the victim of a base
intrigue. But this thought passed like Ught-
ning, leaving no trace. Carried away by the
force of new impressions, I was unable to ac
count for my inward thoughts, and I left all to
chance, not wishing, or perhaps unwilling, to
ponder upon my new situation.
' I had a wife given to me by blind destiny.
I could not feel either love or friendship for
her, and mutual sympathy arising from the ex
change of thought had not had time to develop
itself, as my wife was a complete stranger to
me. All the events from my mother's death to
my wedding-day had taken place so rapidly
that they appeared to me as a dream, and I
awoke only when my fate was irrevocably
sealed. Reality, however, soon presented itself
in its natural form.
'It did not require much time to discover
that my wife's character possessed no solid
foundation upon which I could buUd for the
future; it was wholly primitive, composed of
most contradictory elements. This spoUt child
was not entirely devoid of good instincts, but
these, suppressed by bad influence, were not
aUowed fair play ; besides, she did not possess
any discrimination as to what ought and what

THE MADMAN. 49
ought not to be done. There Avas no stabiUty
in her, no thought or decision which did not
change under the smallest provocation. She
had no convictions ; her feelings and actions
arose from a momentary caprice, and disap
peared as fast to give place to perfectly oppo
site manifestations. Whilst crying bitterly at
the death of a beloved bird, she at the same
time showed herself pitiless to the misfortunes
of a human being : generaUy kind and gentle
in her behaviour to the servants, she would
become suddenly despotic and unjust. There
were days in which she prayed most ardently,
and others in which she seemed to have no
reUgious feelings whatever. In her relations
with me, these contrasts were most glaring;
now obedient and loving, she gave me hopes
of a happy future ; anon irritated, with flashing
eyes and face aglow, she terrified me by her
A'iolence. These outbursts generally took place
when anything was not done according to her
wish, though now and then they flashed forth
without any visible cause. Waking in the
morning, I could never be certain of what the
day might bring me, fair weather or stormy, as,
the change in her disposition was as sudden as
it was unforeseen. I often tried by gentle
VOL. II. K

50 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
persuasion to make her reflect, showing her
the necessity of some occupation consistent
with her state and social duties; but my ob
servations had not the sUghtest effect upon her.
If I chanced upon a moment of good-humour,
she allowed me to proceed, but it was evident
that her thoughts were following some bird,
some game, or preconceived mischief, instead of
attending to me. It was much worse if my
desire to show her the right road manifested
itself when she was in a state of irritation ; this
small being then turned into a perfect fury. I
also soon became aware that her education had
been entirely neglected. Left from childhood
to the sole care of governesses who obeyed her
smallest whims, she had learnt next to nothing,
so much so that her gross ignorance of facts
generally known was quite shocking.
' Though it seemed almost an impossibihty to
change such a disposition, especially coupled
with my inexperience, I still think that this
marriage, contracted in such strange circum
stances, so adverse to peace and happiness,
might possibly have endured for years, had it
not been for the pernicious influence of Mrs.
Diergun over my wife. After a short time, I
became convinced that this woman was the

THE MADMAN. 51
source of aU the evil which had befallen me.
She it was who, having obtained great influence
over my mother, carried through this ill-assorted
match ; she it was who, having gained her ends,
determined to finish her work by depriving me
of my free wiU ; the sole control of my large
fortune in her daughter's name was her goal.
Without her, ParaksoAria would have remained
but a spoUt chUd, and a long course of kindness
might in time have softened the asperities of
her character.
' From the very first, a silent, systematic
course of action was pursued, whose aim was to
grasp at all household power. Not suspecting
any treachery, I did not offer any opposition.
My wife, taught by her mother, who pretended
to maintain a strict neutrality, gradually got
entire possession of my wUl, my acts, my occu
pations. To obtain peace I gave way, but
every concession on my part only paved the
way for new exactions. Mrs. Diergun would
speak of her departure, but the very mention ot
a separation brought on bursts of despair from
her affectionate daughter ; it was impossible to
endanger the health, or perhaps even the life,
of the loving child. It came to this, that I
became a guest in my own house, a persdn
E 2

52 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
beneath anyone's notice. Becoming aware of
the role I was made to play, I had no longer
the strength to wage war. Having remained
from childhood under my mother's tender care,
I lacked the mental energy so necessary in like
circumstances. I felt my unhappy position, I
suffered from it ; but I knew no means of escap
ing from the thraldom exercised over me by my
wife and her mother. My only amusement or
way of forgetting my sad lot was to return to
my old avocations and tastes. I gave myself
wholly up to them. I spent hours, days even,
in the spacious park and amid the fields, sur
rounded by the works of Nature. I classified
herbs, listened to the birds, and thus managed
now and then to put away the remembrance of
a repulsive reality. I never suspected that
every action was carefully watched by bribed
servants. You will soon learn the motive of
this spying upon an innocent man.
' I feel convinced that at that time Paraksovia
was but a helpless tool in the hands of her un
scrupulous mother, though as time passed, influ
enced by the constant system of falseness and
cunning, she began to act independently. Slowly
and insensibly om- quiet house became filled
with loud gaiety. Perfectly unknown guests

THE MADMAN. 53
came from all quarters, such as artists, officers, and
university students — in fact, a noisy, rollicking
set, whom Mrs. Diergun affected and to whom
she accustomed her daughter. The lack of educa
tion in my wife was the cause of her not enjoying
serious conversation or communion with persons
of deep insight ; it was therefore hardly to be
Avondered that she found pleasure in the midst
of such frivolous surroundings. At first it
amused her as a thoughtless pastime ; later,
when the pernicious influence of flattery had
awakened in her the unknown desire to please,
she enjoyed this kind of life, regarding it as a
suitable field for her coquetry. She was no
longer the plain, pale chUd I had married. Her
looks had much improved since, her sickly com
plexion now blossomed like a rose, her eyes
deepened and brightened, and her lanky figure
became rounded and undulating. She had
become a beauty. But these gifts of Nature,
which to a right-minded woman are only an
added attraction, are to a heartless one a mis
fortune, as they only hasten her fall.
' My mother's friends had long since ceased to
frequent our house, neither the new acquaint
ances nor the style of Ufe suited their ideas or
convictions. The old major alone, who loved

54 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
'me as his own son, came now and then to visit
the altered home of my forefathers. Too deli
cate to interfere in my marital affairs, he never
touched upon that topic, though I could see
how much he suffered when contemplatmg my
unhappy situation. He always asked for me.
Passing by the gay reception-rooms, he would
spend several hours with me, conversing of re
miniscences of my mother, and of the days when
general love and sincere friendship threw such a
halo of bliss over my youthful years. These
were the only moments Avhen I in reality awoke
to Ufe. The past, the sweet past, had such
charms for me that, plunged in it, I forgot the
present. Alas ! they envied me even that sem
blance of joy. Mrs. Diergun, in whose presence
the old soldier became freezing, hated him, and
that hatred was increased by the fear that the
influence of my mother's friend should in any
way weaken the state of bondage in which she
held me. She therefore made up her mind to
put an end to our intimacy, and for that woman
to conceive was to execute. Too cunning to
act personally, she employed her daughter to
carry out her intentions.
' One day, soon after the major's visit, Parak
sovia entered my room. Her coming, which

THE MADMAN. 55
seldom happened, always heralded a new re
quest. She used to appear wearing a sweet
and soft expression of countenance, and, having
gained her ends, would leave me immediately,
Avithout even taking the trouble to hide her in
difference. I became so used to this state of
things that on hearing the rustle of her silk
dress I began to wonder about her new require
ments, and when she entered the room I pretty
nearly guessed the amount she required. The
friendher her greeting the larger the breach
made in my purse. This time my calculations
turned out wrong, as the request she was sent
with was of quite a different nature.
'" I am very uneasy," she said, sitting down
beside me.
' " Why ?" I asked.
'"About my mother's health; she has been
far from well lately, and she has had nervous
attacks." ' " Change of air is what she requires, she had
better go to town. She never liked the country,
besides, doctors are more at hand there."
' " You know that that is impossible, we could
not live without each other ; we love each other
so, what is the use of urging that?"

56 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
'"I am only answering your question and
proposing the best plan, the only one per
haps." 'Unable to guess the upshot of the above
conversation, I yet well kneAv what to think
about the so-called nervous attacks of Mrs.
Diergun ; it was one of the thousand means this
woman employed to gain her ends. My wife
believed in them then, later on, graduated in
this school of hypocrisy, she learnt to make use
of the same weapon. Taught by bitter expe
rience I did not disclose my thoughts, the
remotest hint of such a thing would immediately
have brought down a storm.
' " The way you suggest," said she, after a
moment's pause, " bad as it is, cannot be acted
upon ; she suffers, she does not complain, but
my love for her makes me guess the reason of
her sufferings. My darling husband," she added,
coming closer to me, " if you loved me ever so
little, you would have long ago found out the
cause of my mother's unhappiness."
' This caressing tone and sweetness of behav
iour verily frightened me, a year of married life
had made me thoroughly acquainted with her.
She had never addressed me thus, the request,
therefore, that was hidden under this semblance

THE MADMAN. 57
of affection must be an extraordinary one. I
became watchful.
' " ReaUy, I cannot guess in spite of my best
intentions." ' " What ! at the very time AA-hen her bitterest
enemy has scarcely left your presence. It is
easy to see that the visits of this major, who
plainly shows his disUke of her, is the cause of
her trouble."
' " He is my only friend — nay, more, a friend
of my mother's. Besides, he comes to see me
and avoids your society most carefully."
' As I mentioned before, Pasza's character was
so violent that the least opposition to her wishes
brought forth a burst of anger.
' •' He is an enemy of mine, that is enough. I
beg that this man should never again enter this
house." ' She said this in a jerky, unsteady voice ; her
eyes shone, her Ups trembled, and a vivid blush
overspread her face. Hitherto her demands,
however unjust, had never touched upon the
past. All that had any reference to my mother
was to me so sacred that disrespect to these
feelings was closely allied in my mind to sacri
lege. In spite of my long submissiveness, I
found strength enough to oppose her.

58 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
' " My dear wife," I said, " I do all you ask me,
though often your requests do not agree with
my convictions. Neither the society you are
surrounded with, nor the frivolous life you lead
please me, yet I have always sacrificed my own
pleasures to your whims ; be, therefore, satisfied
with this, and do not exact from me impossi
bilities. It would be more than weakness on
my part if I shut my door against old friends of
my family to satisfy your caprice."
' " My caprice !" And she looked at me in a
fiendish manner. " My caprice !" she repeated.
" You forget to whom and of whom you are
talking, and you do not choose to understand
me ; know, then, that such is my mother's wish."
' This single word painted, more faithfully than
a long chain of facts could have done, the situa
tion in which this unfortunate marriage had
placed me. The will of the strange woman
Avho had forced herself upon me was the only
law. Deprived of an opinion, I was not even
aUowed to revere the past. Struck for the first
time by the greatness of the humiliation they
had gradually heaped upon me, I gave A*ent to
all my pent-up feeUngs. I spoke gently but
firmly, and with convection. Knovring that
this moment Avas one of the most solemn of my

THE MADMAN. 59
life, I spoke with wonderful eloquence, bringing
forward all the causes which constitute married
happiness ; I touched upon the tenderest chords,
appealing to her heart, her soul, her reason. I
am sure such reasoning would have induced
any other woman to look into herself and reflect
upon her conduct, but nothing in the world
existed for my wife save her whims which were
ruled by her mother. She was silent while I
spoke. I believed she was listening to my
words, but this hope was destined to be extin
guished ; she was sUent because anger, carried
almost to the verge of madness, was suffocating
her. When, deluded by this apparent assent to
my arrangement, I took her hand, she tore it
away, and, with a look in which was painted
intense hatred, she screamed out, furiously,
' " Enough, not another word ; you wiU repent
what you have done."
' From that moment, although nothing was
outwardly altered in my Ufe, I felt that the
abyss which divided us had deepened. These
two women, the mother and daughter, were
always together — the one sustained the other;
they never addressed me unless they made
some sUghting observation. They paid and
received visits, arranged parties without my

60 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
participation. Returning one day from a short
excursion with the major, I found the arrange
ment of the rooms' completely altered. Mrs.
Diergun (under the pretext of her weak health)
had ordered Pasza to live in her part of the
house. It had come at last to a complete
separation, mental as well as material. I only
saw my wife at dinner-time ; she addressed me
with sarcasm ; the servants, accustomed to see
their true mistress in her mother, took their
orders from her ; guests did not even inquire for
me. I was a stranger in my own house whom
no one took the trouble to notice.
' This humUiating position arose slowly, im
perceptibly. The graduations were scientifically
calculated, the shades so carefully arranged that
one day seemed Uke the other, and yet almost
every hour advanced this systematic undertak
ing to weaken my will. Seeing this, I often
attempted to shake off the apathy which had
overpowered me, and reconquer my lost position,
but I could never find a sufficient motive ; the
ground I was treading had been so impercepti
bly undermined that I only perceived every
new breach made in my dignity and power
when it had become an established and irre
vocable fact. Too much success often blinds

THE MADMAN. 61
even the very wisest. Mrs. Diergun was very
dexterous, and took care neA^er to giv~e me cause
to quit the passive role she had assigned me;
but, in spite of all, a time came when her
watchfulness faUed her, and a real cause for
energetic action arose.
'Among the new guests who now visited
our house, and who came oftener and stayed
longer than the rest, was a Mr. W  , an old
friend of my mother-in-law. He was one of
those men who have used and abused every
thing. In his youth he ran through a hand
some fortune, later on, unwiUing to abandon
his former life, and having a great dislike to
aU kind of work, he had recourse to dishonour
able means for pampering his passions. He
spent the best years of his life in bondage to
old beauties, finally he took the convenient
part of friend, confidant, and parasite to these
ladies, to whom, in happier days, he had paid
homage. Learning of the wealthy marriage
of the daughter of one of these friends, he
came from a great distance, surmising a good
table, an idle existence, and perhaps some
crumbs of his former capacity. His exterior
was disagreeable, but did not arouse much
attention, his type was too- common a one to

62 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
interest even an observer of character. Pale,
worn-out, and grisly, he used art to help
Nature. There were days when he looked
young, others when he looked prematurely
old. In the first months of his sojourn he
was silent, attentive to all, even to me, gradu
ally sure of Mrs. Diergun's protection, he tried
to attain a higher standing : first a humble
adviser, then an inseparable confidant, he be
came at last one of the three links which,
compressing my will and Uberty, haAre stamped
my life by a triple yoke.
' Now, after so many years of terrible suffer
ing and untold torture, when I reflect upon
these events, I cannot admit that there can
have been anything positively wrong in the
connection of this brazen-faced intriguer with
my wife. Besides, her mother's past Ufe would
have been an obstacle to it. There are crimes
which even the basest have not got the courage
to accomplish. The world, however, who did
not know her past as I knew it, began to
wonder at the long sojourn in my house of
this well-known Lovelace. Wonder changed
into scandal, and scandal gave rise to con
demnation. At last it came to such a pass.

THE MADMAN. 63
that the major — my only friend, Avho had never
interfered in my family affairs — came home one
day with a sorrowful countenance, and, having
related what the world said, added, " This thing
cannot go on. You must take a decisive step,
and extricate yourself from this situation, if not
for your own sake, at least for the sake of the
name you bear."
' This speech made a great impression upon
me. I remembered my mother, to whom the
honour of our race was above riches, above
domestic happiness. I understood that if I
had once accepted in silence the lot which
this unfortunate marriage had forced upon me,
stUl I had no right to aUow my hitherto un-
poUuted name to become a by-word. Weak
in things touching myself, I gathered unusual
energy when I found that it was time ' to re
move appearances which threw a slur upon
this family jewel. Filled with these impres
sions, I entered the apartment occupied by
Anastasia. Both the women were there, as
well as the inseparable Mr. W  . A very
animated conversation was cut short by my
appearance. They looked at me, seemingly
astonished at my- presence, but I was accus-

61 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
tomed to this behaviour. Confident in the
sacredness of my mission, I told them my Avish
in a few precise words. I made them under
stand that I, who had been graduaUy relegated
to a secondary position, was about to take
the management of the household, as it was
my duty to do as head of the family.
' " I will gladly see all our kind friends, but 1
will make them see who is the real host. I will
not alloAv myself to be counted for nought, as
such a state of things throws suspicion upon
our mutual family connections."
' I Avill not venture to describe the scene
which ensued. You already know the despotic
character of the mother, and the self-will of
the daughter, and you can guess the brazen-
facedness of their friend, who, safe in the pro
tection he had hitherto received, instead of
leaving the room at the very beginning of the
discussion, raised his voice, as he said, in defence
of the rights of his protectoress. This was too
much. I showed him the door in silence. He
was anything but a hero, and gave way before
the smallest show of energy. In spite of a sign
from Mrs. Diergun bidding him remain, he dis
appeared immediately.
' Things went differently with the women. If

THE MADMAN. 65
this just defence of my dignity had taken place
soon after my marriage, perhaps the show of
some strength of character from me might
have influenced their behaviour. Now it came
too late. Too accustomed to see in me but
the blind tool of their wishes and fancies,
change in me made no impression. In their
eyes I was but an insubordinate slave, who,
as he could not be brought back to obedience,
it was right to punish and banish for ever.
' After many tears, faintings, and spasms came
a burst of anger, then a rupture, and then- de
parture. Yes, so it was ! Mrs. Diergun left
my house, taking her daughter with her. Can
you beUeve it, for the first time since my
marriage I began to breathe freely ! My con
science was clear. True, such a rupture sharp
ens the tongue of slander, but at least no one
could any longer suspect me of a base conniv
ance. I also felt that I was not blameless. I
ought to have separated the mother and daughter
immediately after the wedding, and then all this
would not have happened ; but it is easy to see
the evil when the remedy comes too late.
In the detaUed description of my wedded life
which I have related, you can see how slowly and
imperceptibly the canker that destroyed my future
VOL. II. F

66 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
worked into my hitherto sound body. One day
did not appear to differ from another, and yet
each measured a step towards a settled goal. In
the situation I was placed in, I believed the
solution that had occurred was the best that
could have happened. I fancied that the hurried
departure was but a diplomatic measure towards
teaching the revolted slave humility, and towards
an unconditional surrender. So, thought I, I
will defy their calculations based upon my
weakness ; I will remain silent and wait, and the
defeated antagonist, seeing her plans have faUed,
will bring back her daughter of her own accord.
I, personally, will not be the cause of their re
turn, but the fortune which must ever be an
irresistible attraction to such a woman. I did
not know Mrs. Diergun completely even then !
' A few weeks after the events just related,
two perfect strangers paid me a visit. Their
names told me nothing ; I heard them for the
first time. One of them, a pleasant, gentle-spoken
old man, introduced himself as a great admirer
of the natural sciences. He said he was travel
ling in the cause of these sciences, and, having
heard of the studies undertaken by me in the
same field, had come out of his way to make my

THE MADMAN. 67
acquaintance and learn my theories. The other,
a tall, dark personage, was his friend, fellow-
labourer, and travelUng companion.
Not suspecting treachery, and finding my hear
ers weU-up in the subject, I explained my expe
riences and theories with regard to the life of
organic creatures, which to positive and prosaic
people might have appeared the outcomings of
a diseased brain. I looked upon these theories
as the result of my labours, as the first glimmer
by which naturalists, instead of merely de
scribing the structure of the body of animals and
superficiaUy then- habits and instincts, would
learn to listen to their language, understand it,
and thus build a new phase of science. When
Felton first discovered the power of steam, he
was thought a maniac by his contemporaries —
futurity alone reaped the benefit of his discovery.
Encouraged by the real attention with which
the old gentleman Ustened, I unfolded to him
my wildest speculations, and if in the middle of
my descriptions I returned to more practical
views, the stranger led me gently back to fever
ish ideaUsm. His friend, the dark man Avith
eagle eyes, spoke seldom, but itwas clear that he
too was eagerly drinking-in our conversation.
F2

68 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
' When they left me, after having paid me a
visit of several hours duration, I experienced an
indescribable feeling of anxiety ; my fictitious
ardour, which had been well kept up by the
stranger, now left me, and cooler reflection
showed me that I had been betrayed into too
much candour before complete strangers. I
could not then account for this feeling ; now I
know it was a presentiment. A week later the
sweet-spoken old gentleman made his appear
ance once more in my house ; his friend was not
with him this time. He gave me to understand
that the Society for the Promotion of Natural
Sciences in Moscow had elected me as a member
on hearing the account given by him of my
discoveries. Handing me the diploma he in
vited me to accompany him to a meeting of the
naturalists which was to be held shortly.
'"You must apprise the world of your theories,
I am convinced that they will give a new direc
tion to our ideas, and I shaU always count it an
honour that I was the first to discover in a
remote country-place such a deep thinker, and
one who will change the current of our old
theories upon which our knowledge has hitherto
been based. England prides herself upon Dar
win, and yet aU his theories are based upon

THE MADMAN. 69
assumptions ; whereas your conclusions spring
from the language of animals, to which no one
has yet devoted any attention."
' This speech awoke a new sensation in my
heart, the thought of glory. Why, reasoned I,
am I to hide from the world my studies ? shall
not I be the propagator of a new theory, and
surround my name with the aureole of public
recognition? Fate points that way and has
given me one of the veterans of knowledge as a
guide ! I need not add that the hope of future
triumphs so blinded me that it dispersed the
black cloud of presentiment which had taken
possession of me.
' We went to Moscow. My friend never left
me for a moment from the time we reached the
ancient capital of Russia. After a few days, he
announced that the first sitting of the society
had been fixed, and that my colleagues were
expecting the new member. We both went to
the imaginary meeting. Driving up to the
place where my friend told me the society as
sembled, I was rather astonished by the sight
of its dark and gloomy walls and huge oaken
doors, which were closed upon us as soon as we
entered. When I told my companion this, he
answered, smiling, that these precautions were

70 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
taken to ensure perfect security during the
society's deliberations. I was so overcome by
the importance of the moment in which I should
have to expose my theories to this learned
Areopagus that I did not reflect upon the im-
probabUity of this statement. I was led into a
spacious hall, in which were seated several men
of Ararious ages. There was no audience or
table full of professional papers, not even a
secretary to take notes — in fact, none of the
characteristics of a scientific meeting. I also
remarked that om- entrance had not interrupted
any discussion ; all these dignitaries of science
seemed to be awaiting our arrival to commence
their labours. This great politeness was very
flattering to me.
' " I have the honour," said my companion,
" to introduce my colleague, Mr. K  , the
newly-elected member of our society, of whose
wonderful discoveries in the field of natural
science I ha\re spoken upon a former occa
sion." ' " Please be seated," said one of the members,
who by his age and dignity of behaviour seemed
to be the president. " Om- rules require that
every new fellow-worker who shares our la-
boiu-s and investigations submits to a kind of

THE MADMAN. 71
examination, and aUows us by this means to
learn his AaeAvs and principles."
' After this preface, he put a good many
questions to me Avith regard to my ideas re
specting the life of animals and plants ; the
others helped him, presenting the same question
in different forms, and exciting- me by their
feigned admiration for my theories. I cannot
explain how graduaUy, almost without my
knowledge, I feU into an unusual excitement,
anxious to expound my theories. I mentioned
to them what I had hitherto not even dared to
put into words. The speech of birds and ani
mals was no longer a distant speculation, but
became an indisputable fact. I understood the
sounds, formed them into words, and, delighted
with my own conclusions, and rising higher and
higher on the wings of imagination, I forgot
Avhere I was, what I was doing, and those Avho
Avere Ustening to me with strained attention.
When, after having carried my fantastic ideas
to their uttermost bent, I stopped, overpowered
by a feverish emotion, the president, who had
first addressed me, said, in a dry, cold voice,
' " Gentlemen, I presume we know now what
to think about it ?"
' The others nodded assent. My elderly friend

72 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
escorted me out of the hall. Overcome by my
recent emotion, I did not reflect upon the odd-
ness of this termination. Having traversed
several corridors, we found ourselves in a mode
rate-sized room. My companion took my hand,
smiled, and said, as sweetly as ever,
' " This is your lodging for the present ; you
will enjoy in it the quietness you are so much
in need of. Please do not allow anything to
irritate you, do not think too much, and all will
go well. I will come and see you every day,
and, should you require anything in the mean
time, here is the bell."
' Before I could answer, he was gone.
Brought suddenly to my senses, I ran after him,
but the door was locked. Unable to under
stand what had befallen me, and angered to the
utmost by such behaviour, I ran to the bell and
pulled it violently. A new personage appeared
on the threshold. He was a strong, broad-
shouldered man, and wore a white apron.
' " What do you require ?" he asked.
' " I wish to leave this."
' " Only that ! Really your request is most
natural, but it cannot be complied with. You
had better know once for all that no one leaves
this place of their own free wiU ; if you had

THE MADMAN. 73
nothing else to say, you need not have troubled
me." ' Saying this, he left me. Once more I was
alone. For the first time I pondered seriously
upon my situation. I was a prisoner, but why ?
under what pretext? Was it possible to de
prive a man of his Uberty in such a manner, in
the midst of a town, in broad dayhght, without
incurring a terrible responsibiUty? Who were
these people, and what induced them to play
such a comedy?
' WhUe such thoughts were passing through
my mind, I pondered with my face buried in
my hand, when suddenly a piercing shriek in
terrupted the stillness. I ran to my barred
window and looked out into the court below.
Opposite to me, in a window equaUy barred, I
perceived the hideous, contorted face of the
man who had given utterance to these animal-
Uke bellowings.
' Then the frightful truth dawned upon me. I
was in a madhouse. Never shall I be able to
describe aU I felt in the first few days of my
sojourn among these unfortunate creatures.
Irritated to the utmost by the assault that had
been committed upon my person, I received the
pretended naturalist, who in reaUty was the

74 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
doctor, with reproaches and insults when he
came with his usual sweetness to inquire after
my health. Neither insults nor reproaches had
the sUghtest effect upon him ; smiling as ever,
he recommended perfect tranquility and submis
sion to my fate. This was too much ; human
nature has its Umits. I caught him by the
collar, and insisted upon my instant release. He
ordered me to be tied up, to have my head
shaved, and frequently bathed with cold water.
Seeing that violence only aggravated my situa
tion, I suffered in silence. I was again treated
with kindness, but, under the pretext of my
violent disposition, I was not allowed to leave
the room for a moment, and could not avail my
self of a walk along the terrace which the other
patients enjoyed.
' Days passed on ; at the end of several weeks
I experienced the first pleasure I had had since
I had ceased to belong to the world. The good
old major came to see me. He threw himself
into my arms, and tears — perhaps the first ones
he had shed for years — ran down his noble fea-?
tures. He told me everything. My wife,
urged on by her mother, intrigued so weU that
she had got me locked up in a madhouse. The
whole affair was most skilfully managed, and

THE MADMAN. 75
Avithout a single legal formality omitted. The
doctor employed by them came to my house,
attended by a government official, and, haA-ing
played the role of a naturalist, found out my
eccentric theories, and sent in his report thereon
to a medical committee, who, believing it,
wished to see me personaUy. My own excitabihty
helped the doctor. You knowhoAV I, imagining
myself to be before an assemblage of natural
phUosophers, unfolded my most advanced ideas,
and how, assuming spectdations to be facts, and
taking fiction for truth, I had prepared my own
fate. The result could not be doubtful, my
future was there and then settled ; the medical
men's verdict coincided perfectly with the wishes
of the two women who had decreed my mental
death. I was considered a dangerous maniac,
whose sojourn in the famUy circle was inimical
to the welfare and perhaps even the life of some
of its members.
' The old major alone, who knew my tastes
and ideas, never for a moment admitted such a
possibility ; but, in spite of all his endeavours,
he was unable to see me. According to the
madhouse doctor, who was entirely devoted to
Mrs. Diergun 's interests and her daughter's, the
state of my health required perfect quiet, and

76 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
the cessation of any intercourse which could re
mind me of the past. Then the major, guess
ing that I was the victim of a base intrigue,
sent to the government an appeal, stating that
I had been unjustly shut up, and succeeded in
obtaining a police investigation in spite of the
medical verdict. The servants, when question
ed, did not help me, as they all told of my soU-
tary walks and my frequent conversations with
plants and animals, of which they had been
secret witnesses, and these were regarded as
sure proofs of a disorganised mind. The most
insignificant occurrence takes colossal dimensions
to prejudiced minds, and shook the conviction
asserted by the major. The fiat which separated
me from the living became irrevocable. To
admit the possibUity of my leaving the mad
house, I must be quite cured, and the verdict as
to my state of health depended solely upon the
doctor, who, being Anastasia's tool, would never
sp§ak that word which would open its doors
to me.
' Having made me acquainted with all these
•details, the old major said at last,
' " This cannot go on ; you cannot remain
here — it would be too terrible. All means have

THE MADMAN. 77
not been yet exhausted, and I have a plan, the
surest." ' Buoyed up by the hope of leaving this living
grave, I stammered,
' " Which ? Speak ! speak !" and, catching
his hands, I listened intently.
' He looked cautiously round to see that we
were not overhead, and, putting his lips close
to my ears, he whispered, " FUght."
' I gave a look at the thick walls, barred win
dows, oaken doors studded with nails, and
sighed. ' " Oh, no !" he said, understanding my
thoughts, " our strength would not avail us
here ; Ave must have recourse to cunning."
' He then explained his plan to me, which was
cleverly conceived. Unluckily, in arranging
my flight from these walls, we were not aware
that they possessed both eyes and ears. Those
who had relegated me there were too much
interested in my civil death, and knew too weU
the major's friendship for me to leave us alone,
without keeping a secret watch upon our inter
view. It is a well-known fact that in mad
houses there are secret places built near the
rooms of the patients, which aUow of their being

78 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
watched at all times. In this way our conver
sation became known. The doctor reported all
to my persecutors, who decided to avaU them
selves of my intended flight for finally crushing
me. AU seemed to be going on satisfactorily,
and as the major had arranged it, with this
trifling difference, that the men he believed he
had bribed were in reality in the pay of my
enemies. When all was ready, I was disguised
and taken out of my cell ; not a soul was visible
in the long corridors we had to traverse, and a
close carriage was waiting outside the gate.
'Thinking that I was now on the road to
freedom, I threw myself on the cushions, fol
lowed by my guide, whom I considered a
devoted servant. We drove off rapidly, and so
unsuspecting was I that I did not notice the
direction we were taking, and was unaware
that, instead of going west, we were proceeding
northwards. The absence of the major, who
was to have joined us at the first relay, made
me rather anxious ; but my guide assured me
that he had altered his original plan, and was
expecting us on the Prussian frontier. This
seemed plausible enough, as we had settled that
I was to leave the country on the first oppor
tunity, and, being thus freed from the persecu-

THE MADMAN. 79
tions of my enemies, endeaA^our to make the
authorities annul the medical Arerdict which had
pronounced me a madman. Yet Avhen several
days passed, and no frontier appeared, I began
to wonder. My guide, whUe endeavouring to
allay my anxiety, was at the same time busily
engaged in hurrying the postboys and trying to
avoid other traveUers. All these precautions
were construed by me as favouring my flight.
But Avhen days foUowed each other, and the
country we were crossing became more and
more desolate, my suspicions awoke, and, re
gardless of the wariness of my companion, who
assured me that my safety lay in perfect silence,
I seized the opportunity of a momentary stop
page to ask a government official, who put his
head into the carriage, in what part of Russia
we were.
' The young man looked astonished, and said,
' " In the province of Tobolsk."
' All my previous suspicions were now con
firmed. I did not know what was to be my lot,
but felt sure that, instead of freedom, greater
misfortunes than those I had experienced were
in store for me. I could not succumb without
a final struggle. I jumped out of the carriage
and declared that I would go no further. Then

80 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
my guide, who had evidently anticipated my con
duct, produced documents showing that I was
sentenced to banishment in Tobolsk. I need
not add that these papers were obtained by my
mother-in-law. ' If such an intrigue astonishes you, remem
ber that the events I am relating happened
some forty years ago, when the administration
was not so good as it is now. A bad man
then, if backed by some one in authority, could
attain his wicked ends, and in the central, pro
vinces of the country and beyond the Ural
he could be sure of perfect impunity. It often
happened that individuals crossing this chain,
which divides Europe from Asia, never re-
crossed it again. I have known cases in
which travellers, visiting these inhospitable
steppes, were detained by pure mistake; and
a lost passport, or other slight informahty,
became a sufficient reason for keeping them
prisoners. 'My guide, who, as I found out later, was
a detective in Anastasia's service, was able to
take me to Tobolsk with the help of the docu
ments he possessed. These papers were the
reason that no one paid any attention to my
protestations, and, on our arrival, I was placed

THE MADMAN. 81
in a mad hospital. No one seemed anxious
about the real state of my health, but I was
made to understand plainly that my fate was
fixed, and that, by trying to fight against an
established fact, I ran the risk of materially
injuring my position.
' Forty years ! It is a lifetime. I suffered
much. At first I tried to escape from the hand
of Destiny, which pressed so heavUy upon me.
I tried everything that a man, brought to the
last extremity, can do. I escaped. I was
caught. I tried to bribe my jaUors; my plan
was discovered. I became obstreperous. They
locked me up in a black hole, and fed me
upon bread and water. In a word, every effort
of mine was followed by renewed torture. I
wrote many complaints, but never received any
answer. ' I heard at that time, through some exUes
sent from Moscow, that my wife and her mo
ther Uved in luxury, spending shamelessly and
scandalously the fortune they had stolen from
me. Details were related to me which would
curdle the blood of any honest man, and, if I
allowed myself to doubt the accuracy of the
tale, the next consignment of exUes were ready
to prove their authenticity. This was too much
VOL. II. O

82 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
for human strength to bear. I gave way ment
ally and physically, and felt no longer the
power or the will to fight any more. The
beneficial changes which have come over my
country, the new government to whom I could
have appealed, found me broken-down and
crushed by misfortune. And what should I
return to the world for now ? The old major
and my own friends are long since dead. She
who bears my name, having dissipated my
fortune, ekes out her miserable existence by
the dark and filthy Ufe which converts passion
into trade. All around there is only shame,
sorrow, and abasement. A hundred times better
foreswear the past, and die here, forgotten and
unknown !
' What more can I tell ? The constant
communion for so many years with madmen
has had a fatal effect upon my mind ; see
ing nothing but warped understandings, I have
myself become affected, and often my weak
ened thoughts overstep the limits of reason.
In such moments, I do not see the people
who surround me, the present does not exist ;
in its place pictures of the past present them
selves before my fevered brain, and I become
as one of my fellow-patients. Thus, what forty

THE MADMAN. 83
years ago was a Ue, has become a reality !
Now I am in truth a madman. I have but
seldom lucid intervals, and it is to your sincere
sympathy that I owe this short awakening from
the bonds that trammel my understanding.'
Such was the history of my companion in the
prison at Tobolsk. A man who, except that
he was devoid of manly energy, had in no
other way deserved the fearful calamity he had
endured. I did not remain with him long. My health
being restored, I was shortly ordered to prepare
for a further journey. I felt real sorrow in
wishing good-bye to this victim of human de
pravity. I knew that we should never meet
again. A year later, during my stay in the Yeniseisk
province, I heard the news of Mr. K  's
death. He died a true Christian. With his
last breath he forgave her who had mentally
killed him.

g2

84

CHAPTER III.
A PICTURE OP PRISON LIFE.
MUCH has been said and written against the
practice of confining all classes of prison
ers together. This topic, important in itself,
has become one of those questions on the solu
tion of which human welfare depends. All feel
that a young and inexperienced criminal be
comes degraded by contact with old and hard
ened ones, and that these dens of iniquity, con
taining consummate scoundrels asAvell as erring
sheep, are schools of crime ; yet habit, old rou
tine, and the impossibility of speedy reform, are
the causes of this evil existing almost uni
versally. It is not my intention to explain that a prison
is a place of punishment, and not an educational
establishment for young sinners, as the simplest

A PICTURE OP PRISON LIFE. 85
logic shows that putrefying matter should be
kept apart from things that are still untainted
and healthy, to save as much as possible from
general gangrene. I only wish to give an ex
ample to enforce this truth. This small sketch
of prison life is a simple account of daily occur
rences, possessing neither well combined events
nor dramatic effects. Thousands, nay millions,
of such constitute prison history, and protest
more forcibly against the system of common
confinement than rare and startling incidents
which are but exceptions.
My situation enabled me to study many types
of criminals. Hardened ones bear in their faces,
especially in the shifting look of the eye, some
thing that distinguishes them from the less
guilty. I do not allude to the disgusting faces
where animal instincts predominate; these are
exceptions, and awaken aversion and caution
from the very first ; but I speak of those whom
mysterious nature has endowed with a hand
some exterior and a blackened soul. For the
greatest criminals are by no means always
hideous ; such are found in novels and on the
stage, but rarely in real life. These things are
different; coarse lineaments indicating not only
low feelings, but want of courage and energy ;

86 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
but their possessors are more frightening than
powerful, and awaken in us a feeling of dislike.
Great criminals usually possess a savage
boldness, strong will, and great acuteness. They
are as a rule tall, powerful, and handsome.
Their smile is sweet, voice musical, movements
graceful, their look alone betrays them. Their
eyes fall not, as is the habit of beginners in crime,
when meeting those of an honest man ; on the
contrary, their look is assured and bold, but in
its light there is from time to time an ill-omened
flame, so like a tiger's that whosoever has once
seen it does not forget it. Knowing this by expe
rience, I have endeavoured, whenever I had the
opportunity, to study eyes, and I can conscien
tiously say that I have never been mistaken.
Being placed temporarily in the prison of 
I had full opportunity of putting in practice rules
bred of former experiences. I had for security
a separate cell, and was told that I could choose
a servant from among the prisoners. Led for
this purpose into the common hall, I saw myself
surrounded by a crowd of these malefactors.
There were fearful countenances, morose, savage
faces, flat Mongolian ones, and finally the above-
mentioned handsome physiognomies. All, in
cited by the hope of earning a few roubles or

A PICTURE OF PRISON LIFE. 87
by a less innocent purpose, begged to be taken
into my service. Even the repulsive ones
craAvled up slowly and united their prayers to
those of their comrades.
Among this crowd of different faces on which
crime had set her seal, I perceived a young man
very unlike his companions. His face was full
and rosy, with a merry smile and open look,
and in his manner, in spite of a slight cynicism
learnt in his prison life, he had a remnant of
primitive simplicity not completely obliterated.
This boy I chose to wait upon me, and I was
not wrong. During my short stay in the prison,
he fulfilled his duties zealously. He was willing,
careful, obedient, keeping his place, and, by his
inborn good-humour which never deserted him,
he often dispelled the sad thoughts which natur
ally assailed a man in my situation.
When the day for leaving came, while wait
ing for horses and guide to be ready, I began to
talk with him, and gradually touched upon the
reason of his imprisonment. This is a question
which prisoners as a rule like to pass over in
silence, but Andrushka, having confidence in me,
related frankly his short history. In order to
maintain its true colouring of simplicity and
ignorance of the noble aspirations that remained

88 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
in his heart like a dying flame, notwithstanding
his surroundings, I give it in his own words.
' My father was a very rich farmer ; he had
the finest cattle in the village, the most numer-'
ous troupe of horses, and tilled the largest
fields. When harvest came round, the stacks of
his corn rose one beside the other like Govern
ment store-houses, and excited general envy.
His house was spacious, the farm-buildings new
and comfortable, the agricultural implements in
good order. In a word, he had plenty of
everything. God had blessed him in all things,
blessed him also in his children ; they came
thick and fast. There were about ten of us
boys growing up, and as many girls, small and
big. It is good in a farm where there are three,
four, or even six children, but where such a
herd trots about the place, and have to be fed
and clothed, then even a rich man will think
twice about it. With girls it is an easy matter ;
as soon as they grow up and look well some
one is sure to carry them off. But what is to
be done with the boys ? One or two can
become soldiers, but those that remain are like
millstones round one's neck ; the farm does not
require so many hands, and boys, whether
working or idle, eat fearfully. My father,

A PICTURE OF PRISON LIFE. 89
therefore, having retained on the farm the four
eldest, would say to the others, as soon as their
beards began to grow, " Listen, boy. Hitherto
I have provided for you, it is now time you
should provide for yourself; I cannot keep you
on the farm as it does not require you ; you
must go into the world and get rich the best
way you can, and here are two roubles to help
you." ' Having said this, my father would take down
the holy picture from the wall, give it to be
kissed, bless his son, and, without more ado,
show him the door. Several of my brothers
had left in this way. Wanko joined the fisher
men and is doing well; Ygorko took to drinking
and died in some hospital ; I, who liked freedom,
selected the calling of a driver, therefore, when
the time came, I left home and went straight to
Tomsk, and there, working at the salt store
houses, made a little money and bought several
horses. Having my own beast, I went on with
my occupation for another year, transporting
wares for the merchants of Krasnoyarsk, or
bringing tea from Kiakhta to Russia.
' At the beginning of January last year, sitting
one day on the doorstep of an inn, I noticed a
merchant hiring some driver; I went up to him,

90 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
and, although there were at least ten others
waiting, I was lucky enough to give him my
number first. He gave me sixty copecks to
start with, and I undertook to transport to 
seventy "pood" of lard. Ihadscarcelygoneafew
steps when a stranger came up to me and said
that be had also agreed to take seventy "pood"
of lard to the same place. " All right," said I,
"we will journey together." To improve the
acquaintance we entered the inn and took some
tea together, and so the friendship was
cemented. ' The next morning we each packed our load
on a cart and started. After having made
about fifty versts, I began to think of putting
up for the night. My companion said he had
a friend in a neighbouring village and we
would put up there. To this I agreed, and in
half an hour's time we were sitting down in
our new abode. The host was so pleasant that
I was delighted with him. He gave us a dish
of pelmeni* while waiting for the samowar,
and, bringing out a black bottle, gave me a
good sized glass of vodka. I had no sooner
emptied it than I felt my head swimming and
* Pelmeni is paste and meat.

A PICTURE OF PRISON LIFE. 91
fell under the table— strange vodka! I fell
asleep, and slept until past midnight.
'"A nice thing," Avas my first thought when I
opened my eyes ; " here am I asleep and the
horses not fed."
' I ran to the stable and there was neither
horses nor waggon to be seen. I began to
shout, call for help, when the host and my new
friend came out, caught rae by the shoulders,
and pushed me into the house.
' "Quiet," whispered the host, "say nothing
and take this," and so saying he put money into
my hand.
' I looked and saw it was one hundred
roubles. '"Are you satisfied?" said my companion.
' Dazed and half asleep, I did not know what
to answer.
' " Well, if you are satisfied, then the sooner
you get out of this the better."
' I looked round me ; my horses were poor, the
cart old, the lard was not mine. I went away
without asking any more questions. A hundred
roubles silver is a large sum, but when one has
a thirsty soul and many friends to treat ? A
month had hardly passed away, and I had spent
every penny ; there was nothing else to do but

92 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
to return to Tomsk and seek for work. Can
you guess the rest? The devil brought that
merchant there too, and I had hardly time to
look round when he seized me by the collar
and called the police ; I was put into prison
and questioned backwards and forwards, this
Avay and that. From the very first I related
exactly how the thing happened, so they sent
me to this prison. I shivered when I first saw
it. Half-dead I was led into a large, dark hall
full of people. The noise was fearful. I was
surrounded in a moment.
' " Here is a new-comer," one called out.
' " Who are you ?" asked a second.
' " What have you been sent here for ?" added
a third. ' I was too frightened to speak.
' " Don't you see," said a tall man with a black
beard, ' " that he is a simpleton, Leave him
alone. We will educate him in time."
' As the weeks went by I began slowly to get
accustomed to my new dwelling. I made ac
quaintances and told them my story.
' " Oh, you fool," said the man with the long
beard, " why the devil did you have such a long
tongue ? ' I don't know ! I never heard ! I
have not seen !' should have been your answer.

A PICTURE OF PRISON LIFE. 93
But you country boors are all alike, when once
a man begins to talk, then, innocent or guilty,
he will always be convicted."
' When I understood what they meant better,
I began seriously to think if I could not remedy
the evil. I put in a petition saying that the
evidence had been illegal, my words misunder
stood and wrongly taken down, that I knew of
no merchant and carried no goods. I put in five
petitions like that and felt quieter.
' Prison life is fearful at first, but later it wore
another aspect in my eyes. We had pipes, to
bacco, and refreshments, these were all procured
from the jailor by general subscription ; he was
a good old fellow to be sure ! Then the prison
was visited by the wives, sisters, and daughters
of the criminals, and these never came empty-
handed ; one had a bottle, another biscuits, a
third a little money. They also sometimes
brought old clothes and boots, and we would
exchange it all for money and make a common
purse and be right merry upon it.
' The man with the black beard managed
the money; they called him Emiliashko. News
came that his affair would soon be finished, and
that he would be sent to hard labour. We
were sorry for our comrade, who was up to

'94 SIBERIAN PTCTURES.
everything, were it singing a song or organis
ing a collection to get some vodka. We could
do nothing without him. What was to be done?
After much talking and many discussions, we
collected six roubles and sought our jailor.
' " Here is half a rouble for you, you old mush
room, if you Avill bring down to us Paul
Stefanowitz Swietylkin, the red-haired man
Avho has charge of all our papers."
' Upstairs was the judgment-room, and Swiet
ylkin Avas the clerk.
'"AU right," answered the old fellow, and
crawled upstairs.
' Towards the evening Swietylkin came down
and inquired what we wanted. We all fell at
his feet.
' " Dear father, kind friend, don't let Emiliash
ko perish to the world in this manner ; write a
petition, or otherwise he will be sentenced to
hard labour."
' ".Well, what of that ? he richly deserves it."
' " Oh no, help Emiliashko to compose his peti
tion, and take this." So saying we showed
him a five-rouble note without, however, giving
it him. ' "Then if I write it," said Swietylkin, turning
to Emiliashko, "what is it to be about?"

A PICTURE OF PRISON LIFE. 95
' " Bring your papers here and we will get our
ideas from them."
' " Give me the stamped paper."
' " No, first you bring your documents and we
will find the paper."
'Seeing that he could get nothing that way,
the clerk went upstairs and in half-an-hour re
turned with a large folio of manuscript docu
ments under his arm.
'Then, when Emiliashko was handing the clerk
the sheet of stamped paper, we all rushed at
the documents and tore them into atoms.
' Swietylkin turned as white as a sheet, and
said, in a voice trembling with rage,
' " Cowards, thieves, cheats I"
' " Swear as much as you like, the case is lost
now." ' The clerk, having regained his self-possession,
said, 1 " Give me a second five-rouble note, or I will
have you all sent to hard labour." We had no
money but he noticed I had new boots on.
" Take off your boots or give the other
rouble." ' There was nothing else to be done. I took
off my boots, and having tied them in a red
pocket-handkerchief and concealed them under

96 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
his clothes he departed. Emiliashko was saved
and we went on as merrily as hitherto.
' In a month after this Swietylkin came to us,
saying, ' " Listen, you good-for-nothing fellow : there
will be an inquiry ; not a word about it, do you
understand?" and in reality we were all ques
tioned, one after the other ; but we Avere mute,
saying that we knew nothing. The end was
that the clerk came off scot-free, having laid
the blame on the messenger, who must have
lost the papers Avhen taking them to the
post. ' A few months afterwards the man who stole
the lard from me was caught and put in prison.
But he was wiser than I, he denied everything
from the very first. A year and a half later, in
consequence of my numerous petitions, a new
inquiry was instituted; hearing all this, my
companions laid their heads together to teach
me how I was to answer the questions put to
me. After mature consideration the following
plan was decided upon : Firstly, to invalidate
the witness, who, being in the merchant's ser
vice, ought not to have been allowed to give
evidence ; secondly, not to know my compan
ion, and disown all transactions with the mer-

A PICTURE OF PRISON LIFE. 97
chant ; thirdly, to declare that the former's
statement was not Avritten down according to
my words, as I could not have owned a trans
action I had never committed. My companion
was ordered to appear as if not right in his
head; he was to say nothing, but laugh in a
silly manner. It happened as we expected, and
now, thanks to the good offices of my friends
here, I shall leave this place in a few Aveeks.'
' And noAv,' I asked, ' you have no wish to go
to prison a second time ?'
'Prison has its good sides,' answered An-
drushka, ' because it teaches fools wisdom ; but
freedom is better still. I am very glad I have
tried it, but he will be clever who catches me a
second time. He who has once been here is
not caught easily again.'
As I got into my cart I thought sorrowfully
and pityingly of the man.

VOL. II.

98

CHAPTER IV.
A TRUE STORY OUT OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS.
FROM earliest childhood I have disliked all
supernatural ideas. Nature has drawn
around us certain limits of existence, any en
croachment beyond these limits or any violent
effort to reach inaccessible spheres is a crime
against the laws of our existence, a road leading
to mental alienation. We are surrounded by
marvels of Nature, and in scrutinizing them we
give wholesome food to our imagination. Edu
cate our understanding and we obtain a real
benefit ; but, when we permit our thoughts to
wander beyond the limits of the visible uni
verse, we find but an empty delusion apt to
lead us to an unhealthy state of mind.
Fevered imagination is to the soul what dis
sipation is to the body — a dreamer is a useless
member of society ; out of dreamland arise

A TRUE STORY. 99
Mesmers, Destons, MaxAvells; dreamland too has
to answer in great measure for the inmates of
our asylums.
Luckily for me I passed the early years of
my youth where every mystery has a subtle
charm, every dream the vividness of reality,
without any accident arising Avhich might have
led me astray from the straight road of com
mon-sense ; if anything happened which had
for the moment a fantastic appearance, it was
sure to resolve itself into a prosaic reality or to
be explained in the most matter-of-fact way
by my tutor.
In this way I attained to manhood without
having once experienced very strong emotions
of fear, curiosity, or bewilderment — emotions
causing such great mental shocks to those who,
through a diseased imagination, have sought
for explanation in the supernatural. But what
I had escaped for so many years under more
favourable circumstances, in a warmer climate
and more youthful time of life, overtook me
amid the desert plains of the frozen north, and
at that period of life when the first frosts of
approaching age silver our hair and the
thoughts are not so apt to be easily turned
away from reality and calm discrimination. It
H2

100 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
was in truth only for a moment, but during that
moment I experienced the most intense feelings
of wonder, horror, and disgust Avhich a super
natural apparition can create.
This strange and fantastic incident, which,
nevertheless, is perfectly true, is the subject of
the following narrative.
During the first year of my sojourn in Siberia,
one fine, frosty day I felt a longing to exchange
the stuffy atmosphere of my hut for the fresh,
biting air of the steppes. I therefore harnessed
a fine, powerful horse to a tiny sledge, and set
out on my excursion : the road 1 took, though
perfectly unknown to me, was well beaten
down by the sledges of the peasants, extended
in so straight a line, and was so Avell lighted by
the brilliant rays of the setting sun that I enter
tained no fear as to the possibility of losing my
Avay. My drive had no definite object, and it
was aimlessly, almost unconsciously even, that
I turned my horse's head westward.
Having speedily crossed the entire breadth
of the river Czuly, now covered with thick
ice, I soon found myself in the midst of an end
less snowy plain ; my horse, accustomed to
rapid motion sped on, and I, mechanically admir
ing the setting sun, fell into a reverie. Gradu-

A TRUE STORY. 1.01
ally the Avhite houses of the village, the thick
clouds of smoke ascending from their chimneys,
and even the green roof of the tall Cerkief
(Greek Church) disappeared, and I still went
on unthinkingly, feverishly almost.
How long this mad drive lasted I know not ;
lost in thought I paid no heed to the flight of
time, buried in the past I forgot the present, and
sped on without a thought of where I was,
what I was doing, and what awaited me.
At last the approach of night put an end to
this SAveet lethargy. My horse came to a sud
den stop and began to snort and paw. I
looked around me wonderingly, like a man
suddenly awakened from a dream ; I was alone
in a boundless expanse of snoAv ; the cupola of
the small village church had long since disap
peared, and even the traces of my sledge on the
powdery snow had become obliterated; evidently
my horse, in whose intellect I had confided too
much, had lost his way. What was to be done ?
The only remaining guide was a faint streak
of light in the west, and a lingering hope in the
sagacity of my horse. Carefully examining my
revolvers, from which I never parted company,
I turned my horse's head eastwards, and, whist
ling to him in true Siberian style, I held the

102 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
reins loosely and left him to find the way home.
He started off rapidly in a straight line.
Re-assured by this, I forgot my fears, thinking
that such a rapid pace would soon bring me
within sight of the village. Hour after hour
went by, night had spread her dark shadows
and still the village appeared not. I strained
my eyes to discover ever so faint a glimmer
of light indicating the vicinity of human
habitations. Nothing Avas to be seen.
I stopped, and alighting from my sledge tried
to survey the locality ; not a track was to be
seen anywhere, all round lay the untrodden
desert. My situation was certainly not an en
viable one. Alone, lost in the steppes at night,
I might expect at any moment to be attacked
by wolves, or worse still by the Bradiagi.
There was, however, no time to be lost in
vain imaginings ; to remain where I was would
certainly not help me, whereas a drive even
blindly undertaken might by chance bring me
on the road I had lost. The horse's instinct
havingfailed me,I made up my mind to redouble
my watchfulness and try whether I could not
discover some land mark. W7ho knows ! perhaps
by driving on I may come across some bush or

A TRUE STORY. 103
a pole stuck in the snoAv, which may show me
Avhere I am. And so I drove on.
Another hour passed and still my surround
ings knew no change, not a hillock, not a tree,
not a sign of life, the darkness seemed to become
more and more intense. Doubt began to creep
over me ; who knows, thought I, that I may not
be driving away from the village instead of
approaching it.
Seized with this idea I resolved, in spite of
the dangers that threatened me, to spend the
night in the desert and wait for morning light
to discoA^er the track I had lost, when suddenly
a faint glimmer appeared in the distance. This
might proceed from the window of a human
habitation, but it also might be tbe reflection of a
fire lighted by a band of Bradiagi ; in any case
I felt I must put an end to this uncertainty.
Without the loss of a moment, I drove straight
in the direction of the glimmer.
Soon a large building appeared before me. It
stood alone; all around stretched the white
expanse of the steppes. A strange, almost
incredible phenomenon met my eyes ; this great
building had neither windows nor chimney, and
its perpendicular sides stood out like the walls

104 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
of a fortress, and seemed to isolate its interior
from the rest of the world; a bright light shone
through the open door and between the chinks
of the wooden walls. Passing round to the
back for fear of being discovered, I crept care
fully up to a side Avail and applied my eye to
one of these apertures, anxious to see the
interior. My eyes, blinded by the light, could
distinguish nothing at first ; several minutes
elapsed before I realised the picture that presented
itself to my gaze.
Oh horror ! the sight was so fearful, so
appalling that the blood froze in my veins, my
hair stood on end, and a cold sweat ran down
my face. To understand my feelings it is
necessary that I should describe what produced
them. The interior of the building consisted of one
spacious room without floor or ceiling ; in the
centre was a large opening, evidently the
entrance to a cellar, and a little further on
some symmetrically arranged faggots were
burning and lighting up the hideous and fantas
tic picture. Six men were assembled, one of
them, tall, thin, and pale, was dressed in an
expensive fur cloak ; he stood in the centre and
was looking down the opening of the cellar.

A TRUE STORY. 105
Near him stood a stout, bestial-looking man,
with his sleeves tucked up and a knife in
his hand. The four others were peasants.
The thick smoke ascending from the logs,
and curling among the timbers of the roof,
hung like a black cloud enclosing this picture.
At a sign from the pale man, who seemed to
direct the others, two peasants disappeared
into the cellar from which they soon emerged
carrying some object wrapped in white
linen. They laid their burden on the ground,
and exposed to view the stark, stiff corpse of
a man. Then they disappeared again.
The next was the corpse of a woman. In
such wise they produced from that mys
terious opening more and more dead bodies,
grey-bearded old men, young girls, and even
young children. I counted twenty. Then the
pale man looking round this array of death
said, gloomily,
' Children, it is time to begin working.'
The four men approached, and the stout
man silently examined the blade of his knife.
' It is cold,' said the chief, Avith a wicked
smile, ' we must warm these poor creatures.'
At this order, the dead bodies were lifted and
tied to stakes in the ground, so that each of

106 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
them seemed to stand by its own strength. It
was a terrible sight. All these stiff, dead
bodies with wide open, glazed eyes, long icicles
hanging to their hair, stood around the fire, whose
flickering light, unable freely to illuminate the
surrounding obscurity, seemed to lend them
some wild, fantastic motions.
The silent man with the knife, who had
hitherto taken no part in the proceedings,
now approached the fire. Suddenly a dry
noise was heard, like the striking together
of two hard objects. It was the man striking
one of the bodies with his knife.
' Can't begin yet,' he said, in an aggrieved tone.
'A moment's patience,' answered the paler
one. ' the heat will soon begin to act.'
As if to corroborate his words, in a few min
utes all tbe corpses began to move as if worked
by galvanism. One whose hands were crossed
over its head let them fall with a loud noise,
others hung their heads upon their breasts, while
those who had not been firmly attached to their
stakes bent in half or leant on one side. Warmth
penetrating these dead bodies brought back
matter to its normal state, viz., a mass of decay
ing corruption, and a disagreeable, death-like
smell pervaded the atmosphere.

A TRUE STORY. 107
Terrified, I remained looking at the fearful
sight, unable to account for what Avas going
on. I looked without wish, will, or memory. I
felt aversion and disgust, but I had not strength
enough to avert my eyes from the hideous
vision. There was a moment when I thought
all I saw was a delusion. I often remembered
that authors describing unreal and awful events,
after having excited the imagination of their
readers to the highest pitch, end by saying,
' 1 awoke and the sun was shining brightly,'
etc., etc.
What is told in a story-book can happen in
reality. I rubbed my eyes and tried to collect
my scattered thoughts. No, I am not asleep.
I feel ! I see ! I hear ! Before me rises the high
black wall, behind me is my horse tied to a
stump, around me lie the white fields illuminat
ed by the bright streak of light that shines
through the open door of this mysterious abode
of death.
What course was open to me ? Flight !
Where to ? Shall I remain ? How will it end ?
Half-dead with fright, I knew not Avhat to do.
I wished to move — my legs refused their office -y
to scream— I had no voice. A torpor seemed
to take possession of me. 1 began to doubt

108 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
the soundness of my mind, and to disbelieve
the evidence of my senses. I could not remem
ber where I was, who were these dreadful men,
or what was their aim. So the moment passed,
the only moment in my life when I believed in
a world of ghosts, in a supernatural and unreal
world. That moment was short.
When the picture before me began to assume
more hideous tones, and the stout man, ap
proaching a dead body, plunged his knife into
it and began to take out its rotting intestines,
all at once a new individual appeared on the
threshold. A bucket of cold water poured upon a
burning forehead could not have produced such
a mental change in me as the sight of the new
comer ; for, although all else was strange, fear
ful, and unexplained, the presence of this mau
changed the past hallucinations into prosaic
reality. The man standing at the doorway of the
mysterious building Avas Alexis, and was gov
ernment clerk in the village of Balachta. See
ing this individual, I stepped out of my hiding-
place and approached him.
' Ah,' he cried, in astonishment, ' you here.
To Avhat extraordinary circumstances is it
owing?'

A TRUE STORY. 109
' To the most natural,' I replied, trying to
hide my inward tremor. ' I drove out of the
village, lost my way, and this light led me here.'
'And you became the umvilling witness of
one of the most disagreeable functions of my
office. Such a sight cannot be pleasant, espe
cially to those who are not used to it. If you
are anxious to return, here is the road that
will lead you straight to the village. Balachta is
not far off, and in half an hour you will be at
home. If you wish to wait, I shall be ready in
a quarter of an hour.'
' Oh no !' I said, ' not a minute longer will I
remain in this place.'
Jumping into my sledge, I drove off in the
indicated direction and soon found myself at
home. Once more within the four walls of a small
Siberian hut, I breathed freely. Though I now
guessed what kind of function I had been an
unwilling witness of, the impression produced
upon me had been too great to enable me to
shake it off all at once. Besides, many details
were still incomprehensible.
A long conversation with the clerk, who called
upon me on his return, enlightened me as to
what still seemed enigmatic in the events of the
night.

110 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
The whole thing was in truth natural and
very rnatter-of-fact. It is well known that
sudden and accidental deaths are very common
in Siberia. Whatever may be the cause, the
law does not allow the body of such a victim
to be buried without a post-mortem examina
tion and a police inquiry. Such is the law all
over the world, as, wherever there are men, there
exists bad passions, hidden wickedness, and
secret crime. But, whereas in other countries
the law interferes immediately after death, in
Siberia, on account of the immense distances,
such a course is impossible. How can a pro
vincial surgeon be on the spot of a murder as
soon as it is committed, when his province is
larger than a first-class European kingdom ?
and sudden deaths in distant localities are al
most of daily occurrence. To obviate this
difficulty, the following plan has been devised.
The body of every person whose death
arouses suspicion is placed in the ice house.
The ice house is a spacious building situated
generally beyond the village, and is used to
preserve the dead bodies and for the perform
ance of dissections. In its subterranean part
the bodies are arranged, and the sharp frost
keeps them from decomposition. When a

A TRUE STORY. Ill
large number of corpses have accumulated,
the provincial doctor and his surgeon travel
from parish to parish, and, having heated the
bodies in the presence of the local authorities
proceed to carry out the law's demands.
It was the performance of this duty that I
had witnessed and mistaken for a hallucination ;
but it is a frequent event in Siberian life, and
the natural consequence of its extent and local
administration.

112

CHAPTER V.
THE BEGGAR'S STORY.
J WAS sitting moodily in my lonely cottage
one winter's evening. The night was dark,
the wind and snow were beating furiously out
side, and the feAv inhabitants of the village were
safely inside their huts ; no sound was audible
but the wind whistling over the Siberian steppes.
How long I remained gazing into the dying
embers of my fire I cannot tell, when all at
once there came a knock at the door. A visitor
at such a time and in such a place was an un
heard of occurrence. I rose and opened the
door. 'Batiuszki, matuszki, sotAvoritie swiatuju
milost !'
It was an old beggar wandering in search of
charity in these polar countries.
I was delighted to see him. I had associated

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 113
but little with the inhabitants of the settlement,
and had not seen a human face for so long
that a new one in the solitude of these long
winter evenings was very welcome. I made
him sit by the fire, gave him food and a glass
of vodka, and entered into conversation with
him. Leading from one subject to another,
after he had complained of the bad roads, the
stinginess of the Siberians, and the sharpness
of the cold, I managed to make him relate his
history. He came from the province of Tula, and was
the son of a rich fire-arms manufacturer. His
father was anxious to give him a good educa
tion, and sent him to school; but young
Andruszka had no intention whatever of learn
ing, and one morning he ran away. He wan
dered for a few months from village to village,
until at last, caught as a tramp, he was applied
for by his father and given over to him.
' My father did not like practical jokes,' said
the old beggar, sipping his vodka, ' he leather
ed me nicely ; I feel cold all over even now at
the very thought of it. Afterwards he took me
weeping and sore into his manufactory and
put me under his foreman. " You won't study
books, learn then how the different parts of a
VOL. II. I

114 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
gun are made ; and you, Ivan," turning to the
foreman, "don't treat him as your master's
son, but as a common workman ; for every
act of disobedience, laziness, or breach of dis
cipline flog him as hard as you can. Do you
understand?" 1 Ivan did not require the injunction to be re
peated twice. He was a strong, thick-set man,
who looked upon the punishment he inflicted
on his subordinates as a pleasant relaxation
after the day's-work, and when he was drunk
the devil himself could not have outdone him.
You can easily imagine what kind of life 1 led.
Tortured from morning to night over a thank
less task, flogged and knocked about by Ivan, I
never could find an opportunity to see my
father and ask him to have pity upon me. Ivan
had no measure in his treatment. When I asked
him to explain some part of my work, he would
say, " A screAV is screwed on in this way," and
he would twist my ear until it bled ; "A lock is
put on so," and he would strike my head with
his fists. In a word, I became the sport of this
cruel man.
' I repeatedly tried to escape, but I was
too well watched, and each attempt cost
me more blows. One evening, having been

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 115
more ill-treated than usual, I determined to
commit suicide. Behind my father's factory
there was a large pond ; I ran out and threw
myself into it, and certainly should have been
drowned had not some fishermen passed in
their boats, who dragged me out by my hair.
On regaining my consciousness I entreated
them not to send me home again, as I felt sure
that the flogging in store for me would be
fully adequate to the offence I had committed;
They agreed to grant my prayer, but one of
them said :
' " You cannot remain with us, as the authori
ties would soon discover that we were hiding
a strange boy, and we would be punished. We
have some friends going to K  to-morrow ;
you can go with them."
' I agreed to all ; I would have gone to hell
rather than return to my father. My deliverers
sold me to the Kazan fishermen for two quarts
of vodka and three paper roubles. This bar
gaining took place in a dark house, in one of
the suburbs, and it Avas scarcely daylight Avhen,
seated on some fishing nets, I was speeding
aAvay in a " kebitka " with my new companions.
' From that time a new life opened to me, but
not much better than the first. From morningI 2

US SIBERIAN PICTURES.
till night I was standing up to my waist in cold
water, setting nets, without even a minute's
respite. I was not beaten, but for the smallest
neglect they would threaten to send me home
to my father's ; and the fear of Ivan's iron hand
was sufficient to make me do their bidding.
' In spite of my wish, I learned fishing tho
roughly. No one could set the nets as well, or
knew the currents and eddies better ; but my
companions treated me as a machine, and never
in any way repaid my services. They drank
away in public-houses the profits of my labours,
giving me as my recompense scanty food and
an occasional glass of vodka to warm me when
chilled to the bone. Such a state of things
could hardly please me. Why should I serve
these men and provide them with means for
getting drunk, when I was able to earn my own
livelihood ? As soon as this thought struck me
I lost no time in acting upon it. One fine
night I ran away, carrying the best net with
me. ' Luckily I escaped the watchfulness of my
companions, and tramped from one settlement
to another, selling the fish 1 had caught. This
trade flourished, and I bought a large net and
started fishing on an extensive scale. After a

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 117
year of this life I became emboldened by success,
and transferred my trade to K  . I hired
two apprentices and fished for sterlet, perch,
and sturgeon, and as I was steady my pockets
rapidly filled. I had quite forgotten my former
patrons, but they had not forgotten me. One
day when, having displayed my wares in the
market-place, I was weighing a twenty-pound
sturgeon, I felt some one lay his hand upon my
shoulder. Looking round I recognized one of
my old companions.
' "I have found you at last," he cried.
' " Let me go, beggar, I don't know you," I
answered, trying to look indignant ; but the
new-comer, without listening to me, hung upon
my collar. My two subordinates came to my
rescue, and the public took my part. And
naturally so. My old chief was ragged, dirty,
and half-drunk ; I had a new coat and a sheep
skin cap. Outward appearances always tell in
such cases.
' I should doubtless have escaped scot-free
from the encounter had not the police, attracted
by the noise, appeared and demanded further
information. ' I understood well what sort of information
was demanded of me. I gave it, but the pro-

118 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
cess of clearing things up cleared out my
pockets completely. And more; the police,
having once approved of my explanations,
were anxious to obtain more of them, and I
was assailed almost daily, sometimes with an
excuse, sometimes with none. Now the weights
Avere wrong, then the fish was stale, then the
place occupied by me in the market was unlaw
ful. In a word, I had to pay so much and so
often that my affairs suffered materially. One
day, being in a very critical condition, and pos
sessing nothing in the world but a large stock
of stale fish which no one would buy, I remem
bered that my old masters used to steep such
stale fish in a solution of corrosive sublimate.
The effect of such a bath was that a fish ever
so far gone lost its offensive smell and colour
and could not be distinguished from a fresh one.
Unfortunately, though I remembered the
name of the drug, I had quite forgotten the
quantity. ' " Never mind," I thought, " the more I put
in, the fresher the fish will look."
' So thinking, I put in as much as the water would
take. What joy ! in a few minutes all my yellow,
dry, and rotting fish assumed the colour of per
fect health, their fins were blood-red, their flesh

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 119
firm, and their bad smell had completely disap
peared. ' " Buy some good, fresh fish," I cried to the
passing housewives, " fresh fish, just out of the
water." And they bought, filling baskets with
goods they would not have looked at yester
day. ' The day had not come to its close before
the news spread over the town of the sudden
death of one of its wealthiest merchants. An
hour afterwards a whole family passed into an
other world. People began to talk of plague
and cholera, and in the meantime new victims
succumbed. About twenty people belonging
to various classes of society died. Next
morning the news reached the town of several
cases having occurred in the village.
' All those who had died had partaken of my
fish. Such a coincidence could not escape the
notice of the police. I was put in prison, and,
on the analysis of some of the fish still
remaining being taken, traces of poison were
discovered. ' My affairs began to look bad. I might ex
pect the rope, or at least hard labour for life.
Fortunately for me, there were other younger
and cleverer prisoners with me, who knew per-

120 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
fectly well how to keep the neck from the noose
and the back from the knout.
"'You won't escape," they told me, "were
you to lie ever so much, facts are too strong
against you ; they will either hang or imprison
you for a certainty."
' " God forbid," I answered, making the sign of
the cross.
' " You have only two ways of saving your
hide — to buy yourself out  "
' " But I haven't a copeck."
' "Then only one way remains."
'"Which?"
' " But that requires a great deal of sense."
' " Speak, for Heaven's sake."
' " You must pretend you are mad. They
will shave your head, bleed you, weigh you
like a sheep, and send you to the hospital.
Life there is not very nice among madmen, but
still it is better than exile."
' I begged and entreated my comrades to teach
me how to proceed, and my good friends answer
ed my prayers. In the course of a few days
they made me well acquainted with the ways of
men who have lost their senses. They showed
me how to turn up my eyes, how to scream,
how to go on repeating the same meaningless

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 121
words; and I repeated my lessons after them.
I imitated the gestures, screams, and unintelli
gible words ; in fact, I did my best.
' When they considered I was sufficiently
expert, they made me take a dose of some
white poAvder, the effect of which was to make
my face turn crimson and my pulse to rise to
fever-heat. I then began to scream, rolling my
self on the floor and shrieking at all who came
near me. The turnkey came and I spat at
him. The director of the prison came and I
laughed at him, and repeated some wild, unin
telligible words. The doctor Avas sent for ; he
examined me for some time and then had me
taken to a separate room, my head shaved, and
ice put upon it. They tried me in every pos
sible way, promising instant release, question
ing me when I awoke, and before I could col
lect my senses ; but I was too well taught ever
to forget my part for a second, and at every
question I answered, "Fish, fish, fish."
' With my lips I simulated the splash of a
fish, and spread my arms out like the fins of a
fish Avhen swimming. I was finally sent to the
madhouse. ' I do not know how such places are managed
in your country, but in ours the worst prison is

122 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
preferable. Lack of space, dirt, filthy food,
careless and ignorant doctors, and the freedom
and insubordination of the attendants make
these places a veritable hell. In prison, the in
mates have at least the power of complaining,
and the warders know that, if they were to
overstep their duty, a police investigation
would ensue, and they might be turned out of
their places. In madhouses, keepers have not
this salutary restraint. Here no one is likely
to complain, and, if by chance a voice is raised
in self-defence asking for justice, who would
listen to it? It is only the voice of a madman,
who knows not what he is saying ! Therefore
the local authorities treat these unfortunates as
they please, certain of escaping with impunity.
'The hospital is divided into two parts, male
and female. In the latter reigns a directoress,
a drunken old hag, with her subordinates taken
from the lowest class of women. The former
is managed by a keeper and his staff. Each
part is again subdivided into a place for raving
maniacs and for harmless ones. The distribu
tion of inmates in the first or second category
depends entirely on the caprice of the doctor,
who, according to the humour he is in when he
examines a person, sets him down in the con-

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 123
trol book as " furious " or " melancholy ;" other
phrases are unrecognised, only these two extrem
ities are admitted.
The raving maniacs, or at least those they
choose to call so, are bound with ropes,
and even put into irons ; the quieter ones-
are allowed to walk about, but at the
least fault they are unmercifully beaten by the
first keeper Avho happens to be near. Gentle
behaviour is perfectly unknown, and fear alone
keeps up the discipline. Add to this the rapaci
ty of the attendants, who for the sake of a few
copeckg are ready to procure alcoholic drinks,
and you will easily understand that if anyone
ever leaves the hospital it is only between the
boards of a coffin. Mention is never made of a
patient having been cured.*
' I will not describe what I suffered, but will
only say that weighed down with my misfor
tune I often forgot the part I had to play, and
spoke rationally, hoping that my subterfuge
would be discovered, and that 1 should be
* It should be borne in mind that the man relating this
story was very old, and his sojourn in a madhouse took
place some years ago. At present, Russian madhouses are
well-managed. The skill of good medical men and care
ful nursing frequently produce good results, and many
madmen return to their homes completely cured.

124 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
either transported or hanged. But alas ! it
was more easy to get in than to get out !
' I had spent two years in that terrible abode,
when a new regulation was issued allowing
monks to visit us and try the effect of religion
upon our obscured minds. Twice a week our
hospital was vdsited by a priest who used to
preach to us, but no one understood him. The
madmen welcomed him with fiendish laughter,
and were only kept in check by the whips of
the keepers. I, however, saw a hope of escape
in this incident. I listened attentively, asked
numerous questions, and pretended to be full of
religious enthusiasm, and to be possessed by a
strong desire for monastic life. The monk was
delighted to see that his teaching had made
one convert, and he managed to have me
transferred into a monastery (as being half
cured by his eloquence), where I was to begin
my noviciate ere entering into the blessed
state. 'I found myself in the monastery enveloped
in a monk's caul, and I had to sweep the
passages, and fetch water, and study the lives
of the saints. Such a life would have been
bearable, especially after what I had endured,
had it not been for the food, which was worse

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 125
than that of the hospital, the stripes inflicted
while pursuing my distasteful studies, and the
night watches beside dead bodies ! Added to
these trials was the complete absence of
" vodka/' to which I had taken a liking while
in the madhouse.
' One day I had to learn by heart the life of a
saint, who, persecuted by Tartars, ran away
into the Orenburg wastes. The thought struck
me, " Why should I not do as a saint had
done?" ' I did not lose much time in putting the
thought into execution. One evening, when no
one was watching me, I threw away caul and
gown and ran straight before me. I found
myself, when I stopped, alone in a forest
almost naked, hungry, and moneyless, and
fearful of being overtaken, brought back, and
punished. ' I managed to extricate myself from this
uncomfortable position. Hoav I did so would
take too long to relate ; suffice it to say that six
months after my flight from the monastery I
was in Moscow with several hundred roubles in
my pocket.
' How I enjoyed myself only he can under
stand who knows what a first-rate place our old

126 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
Moscow is for a man Avho can pay for all his
whims. I lived like a prince, rode a spirited
horse, wore a fur coat with a collar half a
yard in depth, ate caviare, drank strong liquors,
and had a servant whom I thrashed twice a
day, revenging on him all the beatings I had
-endured in hospital and monastery. But rou
bles quickly melt at this rate. After a few
weeks, when I began to investigate, I found I
had hardly a few " papers " (paper money) left.
This was bad ; it was time to think ; but I re
solved to continue my present life a little
longer and think later on. So saying, I ate and
drank well, and my good fortune led me to the
door "of t^e principal theatre. I paid my last
rouble for a ticket and went in. They were
performing a piece in which the chief actor
played the part of a madman. In spite of the
alcohol I had been drinking, I followed his act
ing with feverish interest, and, in spite of the
applause 1 heard around me, I discovered how
mean, poor, and insignificant was his rendering
of the part after the comedy I had acted in
the madhouse. The curtain fell amid a thun
der of applause, and, struck by a new idea, I
inquired the address of the manager, which I
easily obtained.

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 127
' He received me civilly, as I Avas well-dressed,
and dress and manner succeed everywhere,
more especially in Moscow, where an honest but
ill-clad man will be taken up by the police,
and a Avell-dressed swindler addressed as " Your
Highness." ' I offered to join the company. I spoke deci
sively, being sure of myself, and I turned into
ridicule the play of the actor who had evoked
such marked approval. I saw that I had im
pressed my listener. He still, however, waver
ed ; a man in his position must hear daily
so many similar propositions, that one cannot
wonder. Now was the time to strike the great
blow. I retreated to the end of the room, and
a moment later approached him with my hair
erect and my eyes fixed, and clutching his hand
I mumbled out savage words.
' " What does all this mean ?" he cried, in a
fright. ' I only answered by a laugh, but such a terri
ble laugh that it sounded more like the mirth
of a demon than a human being. The terrified
manager seized the bell-rope.
' " It is nothing," I said, gently, suddenly alter
ing the expression of my face. " I only wished

128 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
to show you how madness should be acted on
the stage."
' " Capital, first-rate," exclaimed the delighted
manager, " you are an artist in the full accepta
tion of the term." And on the spot he engaged
me. ' A few days afterwards, the same piece was
performed and I sustained the chief part. It
Avould be impossible to describe to you the en
thusiasm of the public, it had neither measure
nor limit. The house shook with applause.
' I was well-paid and well-lodged, but at the
same time I had to learn ever so many different
parts. Though endowed by Nature with an ex
cellent memory, I had no inclination for study.
At first the novelty amused me, but gradually I
became very slack. I relied too much upon the
prompter, and often made mistakes which at
first were overlooked by an indulgent public,
but finally caused great dissatisfaction. Though
I certainly possessed an extraordinary talent
in personifying madmen, and could do black
guards and criminals well, I had not the
slightest ability for acting other characters. In
a provincial repertoire there are all kinds of
parts, and it is impossible to be always acting
pieces with murders, treasons, and madmen. I

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 129
had therefore to act various parts, but some
how always acted them in the same style.
The lovers looked like thieves about to be
caught, respectable fathers like escaped con
victs, and noblemen like madmen trying to
imitate high personages.
' Besides these defects, I had no social polish,
and shocked my companions by the coarse ex
pressions I had learnt in my youth, so that I
was disliked by them. The manager soon
noticed that on the nights when I acted the
theatre was empty, and, without much cere
mony, he told me one fine morning that our
bargain would be up in a fortnight, and that at
the expiration of that term I would cease to
belong to his company.
' It was time to consider the future. Seeing
that a dramatic career was closed to me, I
seized upon another way of settling down.
During every one of my performances from the
first night, I had noticed that one of the stage
boxes was always occupied by a yellow,
shrivelled-up old woman, the Avidow of an
employe1. This living mummy never took her
eyes off me, and would throw monster nosegays
to me, in which there was always a billet-doux
full of the warmest sentiments. In the days of
VOL. II. K

130 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
my success, I had paid no heed to the advances
of this antideluvian fright, and had laughed
heartily at the Avriter ; but when my good for
tune Avas waning, and the time was approach
ing when I should be again homeless and
penniless, I thought of this hag. I answered
her sweet looks by looks still more expressive,
her notes by more inflammatory epistles.
Shortly I gained access to the drawing-room of
the old sinner, and, when my time at the
theatre had expired, I located myself with my
kind protectoress in the capacity of her secre
tary. From that day my life passed in wealth
and comfort. I ate Avell, drank better, and did
nothing. I accompanied the old woman in her
walks and drives, and should have been com
pletely happy had it not been for two defects
in her character, which left me no peace. She
Avas stingy and jealous.
' She certainly gave me to eat and drink and
dressed me like a prince, but would never let
me have any money. I never could even look
at a pretty woman but the hag would burst out
crying and make a scene, calling me ungrate
ful, reminding me of her kindness, and threat
ening to have me kicked out. I bore it all
patiently at first, knowing full well the diffi-

THE BEGGAR'S STORY. 131
culty a man has of getting on in the Avorld who
does not wish to work; but at last the cup
overflowed, and I found myself one evening in
the streets of Moscow friendless and penniless,
and without even the wish to undertake any
kind of honest occupation.
' But Moscow is large and Avealthy ; there is
room there for anyone Avho has some sense and
knows how to use it. I tried this and that,
was here, there, and everywhere ; served a
shopkeeper, went into small speculations, made
up medicines to cure all imaginable evils, kept
an inn, attended to a steamer ; and years passed
on, until I Avas sent off to Siberia. In Siberia,
my friend, only he can live who has money ;
those who have not any must either soil them
selves with work or beg. I never had any
inclination to work. Such being my nature, I
preferred to beg. Life is hard. I was better
off at the old woman's, or even in the monas
tery ; but it cannot be helped now God has
willed it so.'
When the old man had finished his story, I
said, ' I see you have tried everything in the world,
and, though the course of your chequered life
might have been straighter, I am truly glad to
K 2

132 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
see that you have never committed robbery/
' Ah I my friend, such a thing is done, but
not spoken of. Everyone steals with us ; the
only difference is that, when a rich man is
caught in the act, he is made to pay up, while
a poor man is sent out in these snows.'
' And in Siberia ?'
' In Siberia it is the same thing ; but there is
not much scope here for a clever man, as every
thing seems to end with a knife or a stick.
The gain is small and the risk great.'
' You say true the risk is great,' said I,
playing with my best pistols.
' For instance, these toys,' said the old fel
low, smiling cunningly, ' prove that what I said
just now was true,' and, getting up to go away,
he added — ' You have fed and given me money;
for that I will ' give you some advice. Never
be without those toys, and look well to the
triggers every evening/
I did not any longer detain the ' worthy '
old man.

133

CHAPTER VI.
FASHION AND SOCIAL HABITS IN SIBERIA.
FASHION, as we all know, is imitation. It
takes birth we know not where, grows Ave
knoAv not how, lives no stated length of time,
and finally expires, giving way to some new
phantasy. Its spring cannot be traced ; it may
rise in the street, in the boudoir of a celebrated
beauty, or in the workshop of a fashionable
tailor. When once fashion has established its
ephemeral reign in a city, it spreads like light
ning into all parts, dictating its despotic laws.
Its chief centres are the large towns, smaller
ones trying to copy their grander neighbours.
Villages alone are passed by, the labouring
classes in these primitive places keeping to their
old habits and dress, and not regarding the

134 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
transitory whims of the capricious ruler of the
universe. Such is the case in most parts of our globe.
Wherever civilisation penetrates through social
intercourse or by railways, the nations are
brought together into an outward uniform
ity of habits. European fashions reach wherever
nations of European descent dwell, and the
inhabitants of America and Northern Africa,
from their likeness to those of the old world,
partake of the same characteristics. In the
streets of Algiers, Constantinople, New York,
or Philadelphia we see little difference from
those of Paris and Vienna ; for in the former a
white Arab cloak occasionally gleams, or in the
latter the black face of a negro is visible ; but
these local exceptions do not affect the general
look of the place.
Things are wholly different in Siberia. There
the distances are not shortened by iron rails,
and the severities of the climate oppose them
selves to the most earnest desire of imitat
ing western habits ; and yet even in these
Arctic regions live ladies Avho will not depart
from the laws that govern the fair sex in almost
all parts of the earth.
Fashion coming from western countries to

FASHION AND SOCIAL HABITS. 135
Siberia is always retarded, and often sochanged
as to be hardly recognisable. It has its heads
Avho rule this acclimatised power, and many
who copy second-hand from these leaders of
fashion. These leaders are the wives and
daughters of rich gold-diggers, or richer em
ployes who take in St. Petersburg and even
Parisian papers, hoping by their aid to hold the
sceptre of good taste and bon-ton as well as the
outward semblance of the current fashion in
European costume. The ladies who live in
smaller towns and more remote villages, have
to be content to shine like planets with the
light borrowed from the reigning suns.
One would imagine that a fashion reaching
Siberia by the means of a good Parisian journal,
and only retarded the month taken for its transit
of a thousand miles, would appear there as the
French modiste had made it ; whereas the facts
are quite different. The climate, local habits,
difference of taste and ideas, and principally
the Siberian tailors and milliners, who bring all
novelties down to the level of their capabilities,
are the reasons why the reigning mode on the
banks of the Seine appears on the borders of
Irtish or Yenisei as like its predecessor as, ac
cording to Darwin, Ave are like monkeys, only

136 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
in a reverse relation. Everything is exaggera
ted ; mantles as large as windmills, bonnets as
small as walnut shells.
When chignons were worn, they were made
in Siberia without the help of hair-dressers, and
the materials used for stuffing them were gen
erally from the sweepings of the stable. The
shape was enormous, reminding one of ancient
helmets or the insignia of a Pasha of three tails;
bonnets upon such heads came down almost to
the bridge of the nose, and settled there. Be
sides, the love of fine colours inherited from the
Tartars and Mongolians, combining with the
exaggerations of western fashion and the exi
gencies of the climate, produces such a com
bination that the characteristics of the fashion
are entirely lost.
Such being the case in the chief towns, where
the disciples of fashion procure Parisian models
and copy them according to their taste and
ability, what must happen in provincial villages
and towns, where the proselytes blindly follow
such leaders I There the flights of imagination
partake of madness, and exaggeration turns to
a perfect caricature.
Iu spite of all these difficulties, fashion has
many followers. Excepting the aborigines,

FASHION AND SOCIAL HABITS. 137
who keep faithfully to their ancient customs,
all classes bow down to this goddess, whose
progress along the steppes has obliterated all
primeval characteristics, and created a truly
new polar type. Even peasant women, who iu
most countries have retained their national cos
tume, are here attracted by the general love of
imitation, and, having caught a glimpse in the
town of a lady dressed in her best, endeavour
to assimilate their dress and ways of wearing
it to the model they have seen.
If ladies' toilettes pass through so many
changes as to make them differ so materially
from the models they are founded upon, Avhat
can be said of the social ceremonies Avhich pass
as part of a fashion, proceeding as they gene
rally do from received and accepted principles ?
In the so-called aristocratic houses of Siberia
all our European dances are danced, from the
polka to the lancers, with an energy that smacks
of the Mabille. A stranger at a ball is struck
with manners and customs which do not pre
vail on the other side of the Ural, i.e., young
ladies openly refuse some partners and choose
others they prefer, the former showing no dis
comfiture, and seeking their fortune elsewhere.
A curtsey on the part of a lady is often only a

138 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
nod of the head, Avhich, owing to the rigidity
of the body, gives the fair ones the appearance
of porcelain figures.
The English hand-shaking is so much in
fashion here that a new-comer welcomes every
one in the same way, friends and strangers
being alike included in the round taken of the
room. In every assembly there are separate
rooms for ladies and gentlemen ; the line of
demarcation that divides the sexes in true
Eastern fashion is at first sight scarcely per
ceptible, as the doors of communication between
the two rooms are never closed ; but in truth
the barrier that separates the male from the
female sex, though not absolutely impassable,
is at least difficult to surmount. An antique
custom, like unto a Cerberus, is ever on the
Avatch, forbidding a friendly intercourse between
all the guests. The conversation is so conven
tional that one can calculate beforehand upon
Avhat will be said and what answer Avill be
given. A European is astonished to hear
each guest thank the master and mistress of
the house after a meal, or, when pressed to eat
more, bluntly say, 'I cannot have any more — I
am full,' instead of making an excuse.
French, Avhich but few can speak, is con-

FASHION AND SOCIAL HABITS. 139
sidered the ne-plus-ultra of good taste and edu
cation. In some ladies' schools in Krasnydiarsk
or Irkoutsk one comes across Frenchwomen^
who, tired of remaining as nurses iu European
Russia, come to Siberia, and assume at once
the role of governesses. Such specimens teach
their pupils the various axioms and idioms of
their native provinces. In this Avay a girl,
after finishing her education, returns home with
a large or small stock of phrases, according to
her memory, the meaning of which she gene
rally ignores, and which she uses at hap-hazard
in conversation, and thus carries off the palm of
feminine superiority. Mothers and fathers are
very proud of this accomplishment of their
daughters, and there have been cases when
hearing this to them all the more prized be
cause wholly unintelligible language, they have
been unable to refuse anything to such highly
educated children.
I heard that a young lady, the daughter of a
high government official, fell in love with a
young man of a much lower grade in official
hierarchy. Her father, mindful of the dignity
of his position, would not hear of the match
taking place which was so much below his am
bitious views ; the poor girl wept OATer her love

140 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
in vain. Her despair might have lasted a long
time had not a schoolfellow suggested that she
should once more ask her father's permission,
but this time in French. Agreeing to this pro
position, the daughter again Avent to her father
and exclaimed, in a tragic tone,
' Du temps !'
The old man, hearing these loved accents,
put aside his papers, and listened attentively
to the child, who did him so much honour.
She went on, in a voice broken by emotion,
' II fait beau, il y a du vent, il neige, il gele,
il pleut : prenez vTotre parapluie et allez vous
prornener.' ' Well, well, my child,' cried the father, weep
ing tears of joy, 'I will give my consent. Let
it be as you wish. Marry him.'
Later on he related to his friends,
' I would never have consented to this mar
riage, but she begged of me in French, and I
had not the heart to refuse.'
Another growth of the nineteenth century is
the so-called 'Lionne.' This type first ap
peared in Paris some twenty years ago, and,
after a short reign, gave way to a new fashion,
Avhose aim is to equalise the rights of men and
women.

FASHION AND SOCIAL HABITS. 141
Female emancipation in its most primitive
garb could never exist in Siberia. There men
read little, reason less, and never discuss any
social question whatever. Instead of emanci
pated women, we have the so-called ' lioness.'
This outgrowth of modern society, caricatured
by local influences, occupies an important posi
tion in the annals of fashion, taste, and luxury.
It is a sight which, like the Aurora Borealis,.
can only be seen in certain latitudes.
The lioness (frantiha) of Siberia in no way
resembles her Parisian namesake. Other habits
and customs, and a different climate, tend to
make this difference. All the -Siberian women
are accustomed from childhood to horne occupa
tions, and to live in the narrow round of domes
tic duties, and many retain the habits of their
youth after taking up the role of lioness.
Far be it from me to blame the love of work,
which is honourable in any sphere; but the
assimilation of some most prosaic household
duty with fantastic dress and great mannerism
in speech and gesture, produces a queer, un
natural effect, and borders ou caricature.
This incongruity is constantly to be met with.
The kitchen for a Siberian woman has an
attraction that is unsurpassed by all others.

142 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
Often when dressed in silks and satins, and
while conversing with her guests, she is seized
with a desire, to fry a blin (pancakes). With
out an excuse, without changing her dress, she
leaves her friends, and betakes herself to her
beloved pastime. She Avill do her own market
ing, dressed sumptuously, much to the admira
tion of the peasants and Moudziks. The con
trast of her fine clothes with the filthy condition
of the market, and the incongruity of a hand
clothed in lemon-coloured kid gloves, holding
up a leg of mutton, cannot but strike the be
holder, and the careful and thoughtful study
of a lean sucking-pig or a plump beefsteak
through a gold eyeglass has a truly comical
effect. The Siberian lioness does not ride or shoot ;
but she smokes countless cigarettes, sleeps the
greater part of the day, and plays cards through
the night. She is not troubled with hysterics
or nerves; likes a drop of nalevka (Russian
whisky) ; only fears her husband when he
comes home tipsy, and can, when angered, use
words completely dev7oid of classic beauty.
Sometimes she tries to rise above her usual
sphere of small-talk and scandal. Then arises
a perfect chaos. During the Franco-Prussian

FASHION AND SOCIAL HABITS. 143
war, men used to discuss the facts of the
struggle ; the lioness, eager to show her know
ledge of politics, repeated the names she heard
mentioned, fitting them to any event just then
uppermost. I heard one of these ladies relate most in
teresting facts about the burning of MacMahon's
house ; of the great battle fought by the gallant
Thiers at Strasbourg ; and of the shooting of
the Prussian emperor by the celebrated revolu
tionist, Moltke.
Having described the character and habits of
a northern fashionable lady, I ought to add
a few remarks upon the externals of Siberian
fashion. Climate has much to do with the
alterations of European patterns here. In this
latitude, after a few weeks of summer, a fearful
winter arrives, during which all living creatures
have to struggle with a cold of 30 degrees
beloAv zero, and Fashion must then bow to
Nature's laws.
Like a moth undergoing many changes is a
Siberian lady while passing from her house to
the outer air, only in an inverse sense. Sud
denly from a gay butterfly passing from Avell-
Avarmed rooms to a still warmer kitchen she
becomes a furry caterpillar. A well-wrapped

144 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
up lady sitting in a sleigh might be a man. She
is surrounded by furs, her head covered with a
man's fur cap, her forehead, mouth, and cheeks
are hidden — in a word, she is a shapeless mass.
From the midst of these Avraps only the nose
projects, and, like a thermometer, by the bright
ness of its colouring indicates the state of the
temperature. It is difficult to understand the pleasures of
sleighing under such circumstances, and yet it
is an amusement that Siberian women are
madly fond of. Beginning with quite small
children up to the aged grandmother, and irre
spective of all social standing, the women know
of nothing so enjoyable as skimming fast over
the hardened snowy surface. They can neither
see nor hear anything, and become stiff with
cold, and yet they never miss an opportunity for
a sleighing expedition. The source of this
doubtful pleasure is to be found in fashion.
The Siberian fair sex feel themselves bound to
imitate the St. Petersburg and Moscow ladies,
entirely forgetting that the climate in these two
last-mentioned places is very much milder than
their own. To show one's equipage and sables
is the first incentive, the wish to imitate others
and an acquired habit do the rest.

FASHION AND SOCIAL HABITS. 145
In the choice of furs, Siberian ladies have no
taste. Furs as a rule should be looked upon
more as a protection to man thau as an orna
ment ; but by a judicious selection good effects
can be obtained. The black or so-called blue
fox is one of the finest furs in the world, it is
soft and downy, and the peculiar sheen on its
hair makes it most becoming to a fair-haired
Avoman. But the native ladies, though blonde
and blue-eyed, do not understand how to em
ploy this grand production of the northern
fauna. Living in Siberia, the native place of
the blue fox, they very seldom use its fur, and
then only for linings. They are not actuated
by the spirit of economy, but by that of imita
tion. The sables they use are, in truth, very
handsome, and hold rank next to that of the
blue fox ; but they are so profusely decorated
with them that an ornament is changed into an
excess. A dress is often trimmed with narrow
sable, though such a manner of using fur has
neither warmth nor beauty to recommend it.
Less wealthy persons wear American squirrel,
which abounds in Siberia. There are two
kinds— the backs and the bellies. These last
are white, with little black tails sewn on to
them as in ermine. Large collars made with
VOL. II. L

146 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
the tails hanging all round are among the most
unfortunate outbursts of local fashion.
The general absence of good taste is the
reason that, in spite of the many treasures in
which Siberia abounds, their adaptation to the
requirements of dress do not realise our Euro
pean ideas. And it cannot be otherwise. Good
taste can only become universal by good exam
ple and education, as what is constantly before
our eyes is unwittingly assimilated, and becomes
a personal sentiment. However well the
Siberian ladies know that the birthplace of
fashion is on the borders of the Seine, or can be
found near the Neva or Vistula, yet the con
stant sight of Tartar, Mongul, and Tunguz cos
tumes influences their ideas more than a cold
fashion plate.
Anxious to imitate the latter, they unconsci
ously assume the characteristics of the former,
and the constant sight of the bright colours,
high caps, and enormous furs worn by tbe abori
gines has become the keystone to the formation
of a fashion and a type essentially differing
from the rest of the world. Besides, the local
traders, going twice a year to the Irbit and the
Nijni Novgorod markets, purchase their wares
according to their own taste, which is anything

FASHION AND SOCIAL HABITS. 147
but artistic. The silks and satins they bring
home are of the brightest shades, the shawls of
the most fantastic patterns, and the bonnets of
shapes that defy description. Had local influ
ence not tended to spoil the good taste innate
in women, the absence of choice would have
produced the same effect. A buyer unable to
purchase what she requires must take what is
there, and purchases articles which could never
have been sold in Europe. Any artistic instinct
that might have existed is killed by an utter
impossibility of either developing or retaining it.
Under such circumstances, poor fashion, half-
starved and killed by cold, having in its long
journey lost its most salient points, becomes
unrecognisable, and, like a hot-house flower
exposed to an ill-wind loses all its beauty and
soon becomes but a withered stem, so fashion,
shorn of its pristine beauty, seems to say to
those who have seen it in happier climes,
' You know what I was ; see what I have be
come.'

L -I

148

CHAPTER VII.

THE STEPPE TRAMP.

THE steppe tramp (Bradiaga) is a type seen
only in Siberia. In every country there
are people too lazy to work and without any fix
ed habitation, but the steppe tramp can only be
found in Siberia. In this there is nothing won
derful. Travelling without a penny, but with
a staff, may possibly be attractive to some, and
will answer in a populated country ; but tramp
ing along the snows, cold and hungry, and al
ways in danger, can only be the outcome of dire
necessity — the necessity of choosing between
bad and worse.
The criminal sentenced to hard labour makes
his escape. Escaping, he is always caught
sooner or later, further or nearer, and sent back.
This they all perfectly well know, and yet at

THE STEPPE TRAMP. 149
the very first opportunity they run away again
and again. They do not so much seek liberty
from their hard lot, as to obtain a momentary
respite. A fearful freedom it is. A never-end
ing struggle with a murderous climate, with the
tortures of hunger, often allayed by the help
of knife or stick, and a constant hiding from
pursuit, to end in being finally caught, put in
irons, and sent back to the place from which
he had escaped. Such is the lot of the Bradiaga.
Occasionally a whole life is spent in tramping,
being caught, brought back, and running away
again, and so on until death liberates the un
fortunate one from the burden of life, and
society from a dangerous pariah, a blot on
humanity. Flight during the journey of the convicts to
their first destination is not difficult, but is sel
dom resorted to, as it is against the rules agreed
upon by the convicts. If a man then escapes,
his companions have to suffer for it, the soldiers
guarding them increasing their severity and
visiting it upon the remaining convicts. There
fore, only unsociable characters make their es
cape on their journey and are sought after by
the whole party, or a whole gang will run away,
Escape from hard labour is quite another mat-

150 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
ter ; neither the authorities nor the fellow-convicts
are held responsible, and the comrades, instead
of hindering, afford every help in their power,
pointing out the route and providing nourish
ment, without which no Bradiaga could possi
bly leave the mines and reach the Yeniseisk
province. Hunger almost invariably forces the Bradiaga,
while crossing the Buriati settlement, to com
mit theft. The Buriati living there hunt the
Bradiaga just as they do squirrels, as in their
calculation the clothes of these unfortunate
wretches, however bad, are worth more than five
copecks (2^d.) which sum is the price they ob
tain for the skin of an American squirrel.
When the Bradiaga is not in want of food, he
neither molests nor is molested. Escaping
from Schichtamy, Akatuga, the Kagan mines
and other places of the Nertshinsk district, the
tramp has a long, weary road before him.
From the Baikal there is the choice of two ways,
one across the lake and the other round the
Kiakhta. The courageous and determined
choose the first ; they have to cross a stormy
and almost bottomless lake, of which the pea
sants have a tradition that it drowns all who
do not honour it with the title of sea. (In

THE STEPPE TRAMP. 151
Siberia no one calls the Baikal a lake. In the
town of Irkoutsk one of the streets, now called
Amoor Street, was formerly known as the street
beyond the sea.)
After a fearful crossing, two ways offer them
selves to the deserter, a dry and a wet one. The
former leads along the banks of the Lena, across
the hilly wastes — the latter on the river An
gara, down to the mouth of the Yenisei. But
to accomplish this a boat is necessary, and how
can it be procured? The fugitives are obliged
to trust themselves to rafts. On the other
hand, those who go by the way of Kiakhta
have to encounter other difficulties besides
hunger, which is the natural outcome of such a
journey in such a country. They are forced to
cross a great many very deep and rapid moun
tain streams. The fugitives who choose
this road, having passed Irkoutsk, pursue the
chief postal road. This road is the only line
of communication uniting Eastern Siberia with
Russia existing by the province of Irkoutsk.
To forsake it would be impossible, as on both
sides of it there is nothing whatever but a
desert. The Bradiagi must perforce follow
this track, hiding in the bushes when they hear
the sound of post-horses. In some places,

152 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
such as when crossing a river, they creep away
from the direct course to cross on rafts. If by
a lucky chance they possess a hatchet, the raft
is soon made, as they have but to collect
the trees thrown down by the wind
and tie them together. Trusting themselves
to this improvised raft, many get drowned
in the transit.
Often women accompany the Bradiagi, and
their end is almost always a tragic one. Hav
ing relations with two or three of the men,
they are the cause of numerous quarrels, till at
last the men come to an understanding among
themselves, and, anxious to put an end to the
cause of the disputes, agree to drown or hang
the woman at the first opportunity. Women
have a very hard time. Looked upon as
household chattels by the tramps, they are sold,
bought, or gambled for by them ; but, in spite
of such treatment, there are always female vol
unteers Avhenever a convict makes his escape.
Having once reached the province of Yeni
seisk, the tramps can avoid the chief road and
travel along by-paths. They give a wide berth
to Krasnydiarsk, but in the province of Tomsk
they are obliged to visit the town, and it is
there that they are mostly caught.

THE STEPPE TRAMP. 153
The ones that escape from the Altai mining-
district endeavour to reach the villages situa
ted in the vicinity of the Teletska lakes, and
winter there, resuming their journey towards
the steppes of Kirghiz in the spring. Those
who try the north, have a dangerous journey
across the Ural mountains, as the villagers in
that district institute regular hunts against the
tramps. Of all the ways open, the one offering
least danger is the road to Tiumen, through
Turinsk and on by the northern part of the
Vologodsk province. But as a rule the Bradi
agi dislike that road, considering it a cold and
hungry journey.
Some of the tramps have run away above
thirty times, and in their peregrinations tried
all the aboAre routes. According to the police,
the number of runaways from the mines last
year amounted to five thousand, but in reality
the numbers are smaller. The reason for this
discrepancy is as follows. Let us suppose that
Ivan the nameless (nameless are those who
when arrested refuse to give their surname
under the plea that they have forgotten it : in
former days many went under that appellation)
runs away from the Irkoutsk mines. He is
caught under the name of Feodor Solowiew,

154 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
and is entered in another establishment from
which he soon makes his escape. Caught a third
time, he is now Theodor Orlow, and is sent
somewhere else. Theodor Orlow disappears
after a certain time, and changes his name into
that of Peter Nicolaieff. Whenever he is
caught, he gives a new name, and if some old
comrades recognize him as the former Ivan the
nameless, they keep his secret, saying, ' What
does it matter whether he is Ivan, or Peter,
or Theodor, he is a man like ourselves, that is
enough.' The tramps seldom provide themselves with
false passports, though it is easy enough to
procure them in the mines. But many take care
to carry away a pair of light irons, so that in
case they were caught, they should not have
heavy ones put on, but allow the authorities to
make use of those ready at hand. Almost all
of them have light iron hoops sewn in leather,
to Avear on the feet under the heavy irons to
prevent them from cutting into the flesh Avhen
marching. In the whole of the Yeniseisk and Tobolsk
provinces there is a sort of understanding
between the villagers and the runaways. The
peasants not only do not hunt the Bradiagi,

THE STEPPE TRAMP. 155
but give them food and other necessaries. The
tramps on their side, even when in superior
numbers, never attack the inhabitants, except
in cases when it is absolutely necessary to do
so to ensure their own safety. Such mutual
concessions arise not only from habit, but from
mutual interest.
When on a dark night (they only traverse
villages at night) a peasant is roused from his
slumbers by a loud knocking at the door, and
his question is answered, ' The unfortunate
ones,' he runs to his store-room, and, getting
food, throws it over the wall as quickly as pos
sible, without opening the gate or asking any
explanation ; the recipients thank him, and as
quickly withdraw. The peasant knows that a
refusal would lead to arson, and perhaps mur
der, that the inhabitants of an inhospitable
village would lay themselves open to the
vengeance of a sometimes numerous band of
tramps. They, on the other hand, are aware that by
burning and murdering they mark the track
they are pursuing, and thus facilitate their
capture, besides the danger of tbe peasants
inciting and throwing endless difficulties in the
way of their flight. For these reasons, a per-

156 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
feet understanding exists between the convict
and the villagers.
In towns things are very different. There,
there are authorities Avho cannot wink at such
goings-on, whose duties are to keep order and
ensure public safety. That is why, when pos
sible, the Bradiagi avoid towns.
What kind of people these tramps are can
easily be imagined when it is known that the
Arery worst criminals are sent to the mines, and
that men who are sent to settle in Siberia for
minor offences never have recourse to flight.
One of the leading characteristics of the
Bradiagi, that distinguishes them from other
murderers and freebooters, is their complete
indifference and absence of irritation and pas
sion when committing a deed of blood. A
beginner, who has not passed the school of
mines, is more or less excited when committing
a murder, the fearful sight of blood driving him
to frenzy, and forcing the more timid ones to
seek courage in drink. The steppe tramps
have no experience of these sensations. Hard
ened in crime, they kill with the greatest un
concern. What astonishes one most is the
combination of the most hardened crime with
some religious ideas, and also a certain degree

THE STEPPE TRAMP. 157
of humility, born of the severe discipline of hard
labour, which produces a show of pity towards
the victim they are destroying in the most
cold-blooded manner.
Misfortune — and the Bradiagi is one of the
most unfortunate of beings in creation — uncon
sciously turns their thoughts towards religion,
while the absence of all moral rules leads them
to ascribe all the sins they commit to fatality.
I have on several occasions found myself in
roadside prisons or criminal hospitals with
these convicts, who, in justification of their
crimes, invariably said, ' We are poor sinners,
but also most unfortunate, and therefore God
will forgive us all our sins.'
Whenever they see a cross, they always take
off their caps and cross themselves. In hos
pitals and prisons, and. even when pressed with
hunger, they seldom allow themselves meat
upon fast-days. In conversation they are very
fond of quoting what at first sight seem Scrip
ture texts, but what in reality are phrases made
up by themselves for their own justification,
such as, ' God hates the rich ones of this world.'
' Sin committed in perfect humility is no sin/
' If you must kill a man, don't kill his soul.'
Besides these religious sayings, they have a

158 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
great many proverbs which clearly indicate
their lawless nature, viz.,
' Prison is not death, the knout not a halter,
a strap not a bullet.'
' He is not a thief who steals, but he who
allows himself to be caught.'
' Dead men tell no tales.'
' A fool gives, a wise man takes.'
' What you can get is yours, what you can
not obtain is other people's.'
To describe more fully this class of men,
whose type is wholly unknown in Europe, I
will relate the following fact : —
In one of the more important Siberian vil
lages, called Balachta, lived two settlers sent
there as punishment for some small offence ; one
a Russian called Intezgu, the other a Pole.
They were both shoemakers, and entered into
a partnership so as to work together and by
their concentrated efforts earn a small living.
One day they went from the village some
ten or tAventy versts with the intention of cut
ting small pieces of wood used by shoemakers
in pegging boots. Reaching a few straggling
bushes they separated and each began to cut
the small twigs they required. As ill luck
would haAre it, a party of twelve tramps just

THE STEPPE TRAMP. 159
then passed. Perceiving the Pole, they sur.
rounded him in an instant. Intezgu, who Avas
but a few paces off, hid in the bushes and wit
nessed what followed. He could not help his
friend, as he knew that if he showed himself he
would be at once killed. Trembling with fear
and holding his breath he was compelled to re
main an unwilling witness of the tragedy.
' Hail, friend,' said the tramps, taking off
their caps. ' Bad luck to you that you have
met us, but you see it is not our fault. Such
is the will of God. Hoav much money haATeyou
got?' ' Five roubles, which I will give you as well
as my clothes if you will only spare my life.'
' Your life is of no use to us, and we would
reaUy like to let you go, but you see, dear
friend, we have our laws which we cannot avoid.
If you were to escape alive, you would report
us to the police, and we might be caught.
Therefore forgive us poor sinners — but die you
must.' ' I swear I will not denounce you.'
' Yes, yes ; one always says that when afraid
and forgets it afterwards, we know. You had
better lose no time talking, but pray a little
like a good Christian. We don't want to

160 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
torture you, you can choose your own way to
die.' All this conversation passed in a low, soft
voice, as if in gentle persuasion. The counten
ances of the murderers bore no trace of anger
or fierceness ; they proceeded as if murder was
an every-day fact that required no kind of
thought. The Pole tried to soften them by his prayers,
when one of the tramps, who appeared the
chief, took his hand kindly, kissed him and said,
in a friendly tone,
' Good man, don't be a baby and ask for a
life we cannot give you. You and we are both
the children of one father. Let us finish this
business in a brotherly fashion. By resisting,
you will only suffer more when passing from
life to death. Choose which death you prefer.
The knife, or stick, or river, which is very deep.
Or perhaps you would prefer to kill yourself.
We will even allow that.'
The unfortunate man saw that nothing
could save him, and courageously submitted
himself to his fate.
' I will not wilfully take my own life,'
he said. ' God has given it me, and I will
not assail it. I shudder at the knife, and drown-

THE STEPPE TRAMP. 161
ing is a painful death. Kill me with your sticks,
but pray kill me at once.'
' Be quite easy, we have had a good deal of
practice, and you won't feel anything.'
'And now let me pray.'
' Certainly, but let us first wish you good-bye/
And each of the tramps kissed him and said,
separately, ' Forgive us, dear brother.'
He knelt down and entrusted his soul to the
Most High. When he had finished, he looked at
his murderers standing silently round him.
' Are you ready ?' asked the chief.
' Ready,' he answered, in a low voice.
It was his last word ; a few blows with a
strong stick on the temple stretched him sense
less on the ground. The tramps then stripped
the corpse, tied a stone to the neck, and threw
it into the river.
' A pity,' said the chief, walking away slowly,
and lighting his short pipe, ' that some other
man did not meet us instead of this one. I am
very sorry for him.'
' True,' answered another, ' he seemed a good
man.' ' So quiet and not at all quarrelsome,' added
a third. VOL. II. M

162 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
' In that he showed his good sense,' finished
the chief.
And, after having thus sung the praises of their
victim, they lost themselves in the wood. Their
last words were his funeral oration.

163

CHAPTER VIII.
ONE YEAR OUT OF NINE SPENT IN THE DESERT.
I AM living in a province composed of almost
endless wastes, without towns or villages,
with but a few very small settlements, inhabited
by various sectarians — such as those of the old,
faith — Sabaterians, etc.
Such settlements have no intercourse with
other inhabited places. Not only the great
distances which separate them, but also the
vast moral difference existing between the
religion of the inhabitants, tends to produce
this isolation. No public roads run through
it. In the winter, the whole face of the country
is a sheet of ice and snow, with here and
there, like dust scattered by chance/ a few
miserable cottages or native forts. In the
summer, the steppes are covered with long
M 2

164 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
green grass, teeming with organic life, but
fearful in its intense repose and stillness.
The colony I was forced to live in consisted
of but seven cottages, or rather badly-built
huts. They formed a sharp-pointed triangle,
finished by a single hut. This latter was my
dwelling. The polar Avinter had come ; the fearful long
winter, benumbing all outward signs of life;
freezing thought, stopping the breath, annihi
lating energy, will, and endurance. The dim
light of day, that lasted but for four hours,.
could hardly penetrate through the bladder
that did duty for glass in my Avindow. The
night of twenty hours' duration was black,
sinister, and funereal. The population of the
settlement was composed of believers of the
old faith, some twenty in number. They were
melancholy, silent, and unsociable.
In summer, these people are engaged in agri
culture; in winter, they rest, shut i up in their
own cottages. On feast days they never drink
or carouse, but pray and meditate. A man
of another faith is considered by them as a lost
being, a creature who can perhaps be tolerated,
but never under any circumstances associated
with. The life of a stranger, thrown amid

IN THE DESERT. 165
these sectarians, is never in the slightest
danger, as they scorn any baseness; and there
is no instance of a murder having been com
mitted by them. But the stranger who has
to live among them, remains a separate unit,
outside tbe life surrounding him.
I knew of this, and could have chosen a
merry, sociable village, ringing with song and
dance, but I preferred this nest of the sinister
sectarians, choosing rather to be surrounded
by the external signs of a living tomb than
to find a real tomb under the delusive marks of
life. The silence surrounding me is truly awful.
The whole world looks like an enormous block
of ice, dead, sterile, numb. The eye, wearied
by incessant whiteness, finds no resting-place;
the ear vainly strains to catch some faint pulse
pf life in this endless silence. Nothing I not
even the barking of a dog, the lowing of a cow,
the croak of a raven to show life. Men are
not to be heard, animals are silent and half-
perished with cold; only sometimes, in the
dead of night, the howling of hungry wolves
breaks the stillness.
The walls of my hut are lined inside with
thick felt, which deadens any sound that may

166 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
arise. In the next room liA'es a whole family,.
and yet it seems to me that there is no one
there ; they never talk, or walk, or show signs
of life in any way — they are always praying.
Three times a day my landlady brings me my
food. She is a tall, gaunt woman, with strong
ly marked features and ascetic, melancholy
eyes. Like an automaton moved by a hidden
string, she silently puts down my food, and
disappears. If questioned, she answers in mono
syllables or a nod, but frequently she does not
reply in any way. The other members of the
family I have not even seen ; and, by an agree
ment entered into upon hiring my room, I am
forbidden to go into their part of the cottage.
Only once during the long winter my land
lord, the patriarch of the family, came into my
chamber. The motive which induced him to
break through their customs must have been
a powerful one. I looked at him curiously.
He Avas a venerable old man ; his long white
beard reached down to his waist, his deep-set
eyes were full of fire — that intensity of expres
sion which a fixed idea imprints upon the face,
and that fire which is seen but in the eyes of
madmen or fanatics.
' Man,' he said, slowly, ' I have come to thee

IN THE DESERT. 167
not as a brother, as no one can be our brother
who does not share our faith, but as an apostle
of truth. To preach the truth and lead the
erring ones aright is our duty. In allowing
thee the shelter of our roof, I gave thee to
understand what I expected, namely, quietness,
a moral life, and the absence of evil habits._/
Thou didst agree, saying that thou wert fond
of quietness, that morality was thy law, and
that thou didst not possess any evil habits.
The two first conditions have been faithfully
fulfilled — thou art neither seen nor heard, and
drink is never found in thy room ; but unfortu
nately thou art not free from the frightful evil
of smoking. I have come to tell thee that,
unless thou canst forego this hideous habit, I
will be forced to give thee notice to quit.'
Smoking a pipe is considered by people of
the old faith as one of the greatest sins, and
one for which there is no forgiveness. Accord
ing to their belief, every crime can be expiated
by repentance except this one. In any other
circumstances I should have burst out laughing
at such a request, expressed in such pompous
language ; but knowing their creed, and situ
ated as I was, and fearing to lose this safe
lodging, I answered, with equal seriousness,

168 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
'I respect your ideas, and expect you to
respect mine. I am doing no harm either to
myself or others. 1 never disturb you in your
ceremonies and prayers ; leave me the enjoy
ment of the only pleasure I can have in this
solitude ; but, if you cannot agree to this, 1 am
ready to depart.'
The old man tried hard to persuade me to
give up such a pernicious habit, quoting pas
sages from the ancient books to strengthen his
arguments ; but perceiving that I was immov
able, and loth to lose a quiet and respectable
tenant, he sighed deeply, and bade me farewell
in the following words :
' Do as you like. I have fulfilled my duty in
warning thee — thy sin be on thy head.'
He left me, and I have never seen him since.
This was the only incident that marked the
monotony of my life during the long polar
winter. From that time the days followed
each other slowly and heavily. The bladders
with which the windows were protected ad
mitted but a faint light, the darkness seemed
endless, and this eternal night created most
melancholy ideas.
Isolated as I was, I began to live in an inner
life— a life full of illusions and fantastic visions,.

IN THE DESERT. 169
and one that could only be understood by men
living in a desert. A man struck down by
sudden misfortune, but at the same time com
pelled to live amongst his fellow-beings, may
wish to isolate himself, but cannot do so even
with the best intentions. The teeming life
around him percolates through the chinks of
the moral seclusion he tries to build up, and
weaves the thread of his being into the skein
of social vitality around him. The quietest
retreat, the convent, cannot wholly escape that
law of Nature which forbids a man to be a
unit apart from his fellow-beings.
In the steppes, where but a handful of men
are scattered over an endless surface — a hand
ful united by no ties, who ignore social duties,
and dream not of social intercourse — -such a
severance from the Avorld comes as easily as
imperceptibly. In the first moments a man
separated from society cannot be content with
his enforced solitude. He knocks at the breasts
of the automatons surrounding him, seeking a
heart, and in trying to pierce the mental dark
ness in search of light plunges into ice and
snow instead of any indications of human
warmth. The automaton remains silent, and
an icy dimness settles on the imagination, the

170 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
outstretched hand falls powerless, and, as a
hurt snail shrinks into its, shell, so the man
retires into himself. Thought then is ever at
Avork ; left to itself, it is apt to lead to despair
and degradation ; helped by grace from above,
it purifies and elevates the soul.
The greatest of life's mysteries is the know
ledge of self. Were man able to fathom his
own being in all its aspects, how near he would ,
approach to the eternal truth ! But is there
one of us able to examine himself impartially?
We strive after knowledge, surround ourselves
Avith earthly affections, seek for fleeting emo
tions, and desire to know everything ; but we
do not know ourselves. If perchance Ave turn
our thoughts inwards, hoAV soon do outward
and passing events distract us, or self-love and
vanity warp our reflections.
In solitude things are different. A man looks
round for a starting-point to his thoughts and
sees no human being ; unable to live in the
present, his mind travels back. Bygone events
pass before his eyes shorn of their illusions,
naked, real ; he ponders, strives to understand
the cause of each event, and finally sees from a
new point of view. No longer blinded by van
ity (which in a solitary life cannot live) he

IN THE DESERT. 171
perceives that most of the evil which has be
fallen him was of his own making. He Avas
accustomed to complain of the indifference of
those around him, and yet he had not tried to
conciliate them ; he grieved for the decadence
of friendly feelings, and he did nothing to
strengthen them ; he grumbled at fate, when he
had helped his own fall ; blinded by self-love
he had honoured himself and knew not how to
honour others.
Having in this way reviewed his past life,
and discovered that he himself had been the
cause of most of his misfortunes, a man ponders
over the causes that had insensibly influenced
him, and upon his faults and vices. Alone amid
a frightful monotony he weighs coldly the good
and the bad, and assures himself how much the
latter prevails. This knowledge is the true
awakening of self. Then comes an apparently
gigantic labour, but in truth an easy one ; helped
by God and misfortune, the crowning point is
won of Christian humility.
Living this life, I was enabled to gradually
overcome all my sufferings amid the horizon
surrounding me. I created a mental world ;
without books or occupations, deprived of the
sight of man, alone in a snowy desert, I did

172 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
not feel my solitude. When Polar cold benumbed
all signs of organic life, when the wind, whirl
ing madly along the steppes, threw a snowy
dust against my Avindows, when hungry wolves
joined their dismal howlings to the whistling
of the hurricane, I, indifferent to the frightful
reality around me, was carried far, far away on
the wings of imagination ; short days and long
nights passed alike, weeks and months sped out
and I felt not their flight ; the present had
ceased to exist for me.
There were moments when the mysterious
tie uniting me to the rest of the world made
itself felt. I remembered the person I loved in
childhood, viz., Robinson Crusoe, and decided
to imitate him. Observing the sun moving
along one of the walls of my hut, I made lines
marking hours and even quarters. This primi
tive clock had many imperfections, but it had
the advantage of marking the time for the few
short hours that the sun remained above the
horizon. Subsequently I made an ozonometer.
I proceeded in the following manner. . Possess
ing some chemicals with which I had provided
myself in case of sudden illness, as I was de
pendent upon my own medical skill, I took half
a grain of camphor, the same of ammonia and

IN THE DESERT. .173
saltpetre, and melted these ingredients separate
ly in spirit, applying heat to the camphor as
being less soluble than the others. When all
Avere liquified, I poured them into one bottle,
sealed it hermetically, and hung it up facing
the north. The crystals that formed at the
bottom of the bottle showed me the state of the
atmosphere.* Possessing now a clock and a weather-glass,
I endeavoured to procure for myself some so
ciety. Forsaken by man, I turned towards
animals. A faithful dog had long shared my
solitude ; I now set traps and caught some half-
frozen and starved birds. These poor little
creatures did not seem to regret the loss of
their liberty ; they knew that out on the steppes
death awaited them, and, though at first shy,
they soon welcomed the hand that fed them.
In these occupations and amusements a long
time passed. No signs indicated the termina
tion of what seemed the normal season in these
advanced latitudes, Avhen suddenly, Avithout any
* When there was a sediment at the bottom of the baro
meter, a frost was certain ; when little flakes appeared, a
storm was brewing ; when large flakes, snow was coming
on. Small clots indicated wind, the lower they descended
the colder it became. A pin-hole must be made in the
cork with which the tube is closed.

174 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
warning whatever, spring came on. You Euro
peans, accustomed to the gradual changes of
Nature, can you understand this sudden meta
morphosis, this jump from one extreme to
another, which in a moment changes the whole
aspect of the polar world ?
It Avas winter. A thick coating of snow
covered the ground, uniting it with the grey
horizon ; thick layers of ice imprisoned the
mighty rivers like iron bucklers. No life was
anywhere, no song of birds, no perfume of
flowers, no hum of insects; stillness, death, and
numbness all around. All at once the pale,
misty sun pours out warmer rays, icebergs
tremble at their base and discharge countless
streams, the icy rivers heave their mighty lungs,
swell their bosoms and break their bounds with
a sound like thunder. A few days go by ; the
icebergs that shot almost into the sky are but
shapeless masses, and, out of the streams that
sap their bases, lakes, rivers, and waterfalls
arise. The whole surface of the earth puts on
the appearance of a limitless ocean. A few
days pass, and all this water sinks into the
thawing earth without leaving a trace behind.
On the black, bleak surface where had risen
mighty icebergs, and which later had been

IN THE DESERT. 175
•covered Avith waves, the grass begins to spring.
Before the eye accustomed to snow can well
realise the change, the little grass has spread
and turned the whole of the surface of the
earth into smiling meadows, while millions of
brightly-coloured flowers peep from this varie
gated carpet. The hitherto naked trees are
covered with leaA'es, troops of birds warble
noisily, insects fill the air with their incessant
hum, the air is full of perfume, and the torpor
of winter is turned into teeming life.
I too breathe more freely ; the bladders are
removed from my little -Avindow, and my room
is filled with radiant sunshine, instead of the
half-light of twilight ; the oppressive heat of
the stove has given way to a refreshing breeze.
My landlord and his family have, with the rest
of the ATillagers, gone to work in the fields ;
only a few decrepit old people remain behind,
Avho sit outside upon their doorsteps staring
idiotically around them and saying their
prayers. It is the custom among the peas
ants of Siberia, particularly amongst those in
small settlements, to leave their houses in the
spring and live in the distant fields during the
time of work. There they build temporary
huts, Avhich they inhabit until the winter, and

176 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
leave their real homes in charge of old men
who are no longer able to work.
I spend whole days in the fields, where the
grass almost rises to my waist, or, tired with
rambling, I rest in the Avelcome shade of
a willow wood. What buoyant life there
is around me ! All simmers, boils, stirs
with sap ; noise, hum, song are everywhere.
Everything, from the hardly-seen fly to the
mightiest inhabitant of the forest, desires to
make up for lost time, and profit by the short
lived smile of spring. Varied and unknown
insects pass before my eyes, bright, transparent
flies descend upon the soft grass, numerous
birds wake the echoes with their song. Here
and there the head of a little animal peeps
between the branches, and Avatches curiously
the life around.
In the evening, tired with my rambles in the
fields, valleys, and mountains, I sit beside my
little window. The sounds of day are dying,
and the sun, sinking slowly towards the west,
is dyeing with its last rays the waters of the
distant Yenisei a blood-red.
Sometimes, while looking out mechanically,
I am far-away in thought in other lands, be
neath other skies. In the outline of the moun-

IN THE DESERT. 177
tains I picture cities and mighty castles, while
blocks of granite scattered at their base take
the (Shape of walls encircling fortresses, and
the light summer-clouds become Avreaths of
smoke issuing from high factory chimneys.
Thus I sought life for Avhich my heart yearned,
and during long hours I peopled the desert with
the pictures of my imagination. I evoked out of
nothingness fantastic shapes of bygone hours.
Vain efforts. A moment came when reality
asserted itself and scattered my fancies, as a
cold Siberian wind sweeps away the morning
mists hanging upon the earth.
When I allowed my thoughts to wander
beyond the land I actually saw, I shuddered.
These blue mountains melting into distance,
these smiling fields, the animal life, and the few
people who surrounded me were but an oasis
in a desert. A few hundred versts further,
and there was— nothing! Nothing — a fearful
word. A limitless expanse is there, hundreds, thous
ands of versts, a space thought cannot gauge,
without villages, houses, men. These solitary
lands have never been peopled, and will per
chance remain for ever without an inhabitant.
The few people near me are as nothing in this
VOL. II. N

178 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
space without end, and I am alone and isolated
amid them.
Many years ago I read the story of a man
who lived by himself in a planet. His sufferings
were frightful, and the author, with a profound
knowledge of human nature, painted in vivid
colours his first thoughts and sensations and
finally his doubt and despair. I compared my
self to that man, analysed each feeling, watched
each throb of pain, and felt a fiendish pleasure
in thus irritating the Avounds of my aching
heart. So passed days and weeks ; the balmy
warmth of spring gave way to the burning heat
of summer, the hitherto gentle rays of the sun
now fell scorchingly upon the earth, withering
everything with their burning glare. The air
became like the wind from a crater, water the
molten lava, and light the flame. There was
not even a passing cloud iu the sky, a breath of
air, or a drop of dew. The birds flew away to
the woods, the animals that had lately played
in the meadows hid again in their dens, and
even the insects sought the shelter of the long
grass from the rays of the polar summer sun.
Silence, heat, and glare are all around. In
the evening, when the sun was less severe, mil-

IN THE DESERT. 179
lions of insects unknown in Europe obscured the
air. Nature, which in milder latitudes Ave call
mother, here enacts the role of step-mother. In
winter she checks all organic life with her cold
embrace, in summer she is chary of even giving
air to breathe, poisoning it by the presence of
myriads of Eumenidse (a family of insects allied
to wasps). Her only smiles are the few weeks
of spring, but this passing caress seems like a
sarcasm, followed as it is by the tortures of
summer. The only peaceful time in summer is night ; it
comes on quickly and unexpectedly. The
beautiful half-tints of twilight are unknown
here. Hardly has the sun set, Avhen, like a pall
covering a dead face, a dark mantle spreads
upon the earth. The body enervated by the
heat of the day longs for repose, yet the wish
to breathe a fresher air keeps one awake in
spite of fatigue. I sit at my window and enjoy
the fresh air in contrast to the burning gas of the
day. In the darkness I perceive small lights ;
they grow, spread, rise, and waves of fire soon
cover the steppes and stretch along the moun
tains. It is the Siberian agriculturists who
have set fire to the meadows they have not cut
to ensure a plentiful harvest of hay next year.

180 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
This pernicious habit, against which everyone
complains and which yet cannot be put down
by the authorities, is the cause of many acci
dents. The sea of fire consumes all it comes
across, trees, bushes, stacks, and sometimes vil
lages. It is almost impossible to catch the
offender, as the ignition of the steppes takes
place with the full knowledge and consent of a
whole settlement, and the execution is en
trusted to a Avandering herd-boy or a little
child. It is a grand and awful sight ! From every
side burst out volumes of flame, lighting up
the horizon with their red glare. The illumina
tion of the steppes has something mysterious in
it. Amid uninhabited spaces the destroying ele
ment flows on like a burning tide, splashing
sprays above the main sea in pillars of sparks
and fire. The effect of light and shade are
magnificent ; every tree and bush met by the
burning stream changes into a gigantic torch
and feeds the conflagration which hisses, roars,
and spreads until, finding no more materials to
annihilate, it suddenly goes out, and the black
veil covers the world anew.
The only witnesses of this fantastic scene are
the beasts and birds, who fly scared from it in

IN THE DESERT. 181
terror ; the human inhabitant of the steppes is
too busy just then to watch it.
Summer lasts but a short time. Nature, as if
aware of the brevity of organic life in these
parts, acts quickly, feverishly. Hardly have
the last snows vanished, when the grain begins
to come up, grows, ripens, and brings forth
fruit. The farmer, anxious to fill his granaries
before winter, must work incessantly and with
out rest. Three months of hard labour and
nine of a snail-like existence in the small rooms
of his dark hut, such is his life.
The settlement is empty with the exception
of a few old people left in charge. Now and
again one of the encamping farmers rides hur
riedly in, and having obtained provisions rides
off again without a vvord. Sometimes a little
herd-boy passes with his flock of sheep, piping
on a flute made out of willoAv bark. These are
the only events in the monotony of my isolated
life. Occasionally the bright sky is covered
with heavy black clouds, the wind blows, the
thunder roars, and all the elements seem at war
with each other. On such days I breathe more
freely; witnessing these convulsions of Nature, I
contrast my monotonous life with the hurri
cane of human passions, and feel that a hermit-

182 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
like peace is preferable to the maddening Avhirl
of a civilized existence. Peace is not happiness,
it is not even forgetfulness, but it creates a sort
of lethargy which soothes unhealed wounds.
There are sufferings for which medicine gives no
relief and whose dying struggles last long.
The all-powerful queen of these spheres,
winter, with her icy crown, snowy mantle,
and aureole of Aurora Borealis is approaching
with rapid strides to regain possession of her
kingdom Avhich she had yielded for a little
while. Her frosty footprints are already visible,
her icy breath is in the air, and her sad face is
pictured in the grey clouds that overhang the
horizon. The days shorten and the nights
lengthen, the autumn winds whistle mournfully,
the birds are away, the animals gone to their
holes, the inhabitants of the settlement are
home again and are snugly ensconced in their
cottages. All is cold, dark, and fearful.
Just then, as if to try my moral strength, I
came across a vestige of civilised life. Before
me appeared a man full of social qualities, warm
feelings, and eager thoughts. No automaton
was he, no Siberian peasant with his best in
stincts degraded with drink, but an old friend of
my youth who, travelling southward, had acci-

IN THE DESERT. 183
dentally fallen upon this out-of-way corner of the
earth. I knew Mr.  before leaving Poland*
From his youth he Avas noted for his restless
ness. He looked upon life as a loom where
the raw materials of theory were to be worked
mto facts. Quietness he did not understand,
rest he disliked, stagnation he loathed. Becom
ing acquainted Avith the details of my life, he
could not hide his astonishment, nor understand
how a man could intentionally condemn him -
self to such isolation.
' It is mental death,' he cried.
' No, dear friend,' I quietly answered, ' he
who lives internally dies not. The world of
dreams, remembrances, and hopes is beautiful,
and its horizon knows no bounds. In this ideal
world no false notes of human baseness mar
its perfect harmony. These,' I said, pointing
to my dog and birds, ' are real friends ; they do
not return evil for good, do not betray, do not
bite the hand that feeds them. My days pass
monotonously but without bitterness. What
happened yesterday will happen to-day and
to-morrow. I meet with neither humiliation
nor disappointment, the past has been my lesson,
the present is my penance, and the future con
tains hope.'

184 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
' And if a time should come when all that
now interests you becomes stale and unprofit
able, if black despair creeps into your heart,
who can console and comfort you? Will you
look to the living mummies, who are but men in
name, who surround you, or to the animals who
can but bark and twitter? Without a friend or
companion, you will perish in this desert. Look
at the void that surrounds you, and tell me is
there anyone who can save you?'
' There is,' I answered.
' Who ?' he asked in astonishment.
' Who, the father of the orphan, the refuge of
sinners, the comforter of the afflicted. He
who in the heaviest trouble dries the tear and
turns the torture qf despair into the peace of
truth and hope.'
My friend said not a word, he hung his head
and sighed. With all his assumed cheerfulness
and superficial trust in the strength of his
character, hoAV much to be pitied was he. He
had no faith, unhappy man ! he did not believe
in religion.

185

CHAPTER IX.
GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA.
WHEN, some twenty years ago, sand yielding
gold was discovered in the Sacramento river
masses of people flocked from all parts of the
world to that place, eager to enrich themselves
in a short time. It was an epidemic, an illness,
and was called the ' Gold Fever.' Large cities
soon arose where shortly before there had
been a desert, but out of the thousands of emi
grants few returned home rich, the rest mys
teriously disappeared, killed by hunger or
ending their miserable lives by their own hands.
The successful ones were those who under
stood where the real gain lay, and, abandoning
the golden sand, turned their attention towards
trade and handicraft, and, travelling along these
abandoned paths, succeeded in making fortunes.

186 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
The quest for gold, like all other means of
making a speedy fortune, is a matter of chance,
and, out of the thousands who engage in it,
hardly any succeed.
The Siberian soil, rich in all minerals, con
ceals this precious ore in its bosom, and from
the moment of its discovery the local popula
tion and European speculators have been busily
in search of it. The working for it is, however,
quite different from the system pursued in Cali
fornia ; the climate, the interminable forests,
and some Government restrictions, combined
with the small yield of gold, are the reasons of
non-success, and what continues a 'fever' in
California can only in Siberia remain as small
traffic. The climate tends to cool any ardour ;
in that latitude the blood courses but feebly,
the heart is not easily stirred, and, should a
speculator by a lucky chance discover a rich
vein of gold sand, the long, cruel winter soon
checks his feverish ardour by covering the
earth with an armour that no instrument can
pierce. Again, in California, a man endowed with
health, desiring to enrich himself, can seek for
gold unchecked, while in Siberia a concession
from the government must first be obtained,

GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA. 187
the ground must be hired or bought, machinery
provided, workmen secured, and houses built
to accommodate them. To provide all this, a-
man must be a capitalist. Lastly, the small
amount of gold obtained renders the risk of
loss very great. The average weight of gold
found in Eastern Siberia annually is six hun
dreds poods ; and, to give an idea how small is
the yield, seventy poods of gold obtained in
the Yeniseisk province were extracted from
sand weighing sixty million poods. Few can
get rich with such risks. They rub on from
year to year much as other tradespeople do ;.
a lucky summer enabling them to live through
the idle winter. But gold-seeking in Siberia
must be looked upon as a trade, and not, as
in California, a quick way of making a fortune
or becoming a beggar.
The yield of gold in Siberia decreases yearly ;
even now it is less than a few years ago, and
a day is not far distant when the cost of work
ing will surpass the profits. Even at first the
mines did not bring in as much as they might
have done, on account of the difficulties thrown
in the way of those who worked them by the
government. Concessions were only granted
to certain classes. The works had to be ex-

188 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
tended over a given, area, regardless of the
large or small capital embarked. Small capi
talists were not allowed to join together, and
work in company. But latterly new and milder
laAVS have upheld the tottering enterprises, and
many of the first capitalists, who had worked
their mines through their foremen, have dis
appeared, and in their stead small traders have
arisen, who have formed companies and given
a spurt to the enterprise.
The chief arteries of this new life are the
points of junction ; namely, the offices where
workmen are hired. Business begins in winter
by the purchase of food, the borrowing of
money, and the exchange of bills, etc. Towns
and villages gain by this activity, the peasant
finding purchasers for his crops, the trader for
his wares, and farmers for their cattle. Should
the percentage rise, the land-produce fetches
a higher price, and the activity that prevails
rouses many who would otherwise be sunk
in apathy.
There is therefore no fear that the absorp
tion of capital by one kind of enterprise will
be detrimental to another. If the Siberian
¦manufactories are backward, it is not for the
Avant of money to improve them, but because

GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA. 189
of the carelessness of their owners. The capital
of the Permialein iron works amounts to 60,000
roubles, that of the Issakow glass works to
40,000 roubles, and Gusiew neAv glass works,
established in 1870, to 25,000 roubles; and, if
the percentage upon this money is unsatis
factory, it is entirely owing to the neglect of
the business, and to the production of articles
of bad quality at high prices. The manufac
turers are anxious to get back as much as
possible of the money sunk in their enterprises,
regardless of the wares they offer to their
clients, and this is the chief cause of the non-
success of their establishments. The mining
companies cannot cramp their energies, and
indeed are awakening commercial spirit, instead
of hindering it. But to continue our story.
From the beginning of March, long trains of
sledges are seen moving from towns and villages
laden with meat, flour, and biscuits. Where
driving communication ceases, all these com
modities are transferred to the backs of horses,
and thus taken, after a long and perilous jour
ney, to the places where gold is obtained.
These places are generally situated in the
depths of virgin forests, and are almost in
accessible, save upon horseback, and still more

190 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
difficult is it to transport there the necessaries
of life.
In order fully to explain the working for
gold, I must enlighten the reader upon the
way the land has first to be obtained. The
enterpriser either chooses a spot for himself
or buys one previously worked. In the former
case, he starts for the desert, accompanied by
several workmen, digs here and there, washes
the sand, and, when he is satisfied, ' advises '
the government, and from that moment is
bound to pay fifteen copecks yearly for every
pagonny sazen,* without any reference to the
quantity of gold found thereon. The other
way, viz., buying ground already provided
with buildings and machinery, seems at first
sight the most straightforward. But here the
innate Siberian cunning steps in, and cheating
commences. The true value of a lot is neither
in its size nor situation, but in the quantity
of ore likely to be found upon it. The seller
endeavours to show an abundant produce ; the

* The sazen differs in width and length. Sometimes it
is four or five versts in length. The best places to find
gold are valleys surrounded by mountains ; and the length
of the valley is measured, while its breadth is calculated
from ridge to ridge, and is not measured.

GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA. 191
buyer, knowing his countrymen, strains his
attention to avoid being taken in. In spite
of every care, he is generally the victim.
Before signing the agreement, some final
¦experiments are made. The buyer, knowing
that bribed workmen can easily mix golden ore
in the sand they are raising, brings his own
trustworthy men ; but even with this precaution
it constantly happens that places which during
the trial yielded a fair amount of ore have sub
sequently been found to be barren. This phe
nomenon is thus explained : — While the work
men dug, the owner and his subordinates were
present smoking cigarettes, shaking the ashes
constantly over the newly-turned earth. These
cigarettes were filled with gold sand. This
trick is now so well known that I have been
myself present at the drawing of an agreement
in which it was distinctly stipulated that no
smoking was to be allowed during the experi
ments. I have no doubt that some new dodge
is now invented.
At the present time the gold-diggers in
Siberia are formed of three classes. The rich
capitalists, who possess many holdings, the
moderately wealthy, with less extensive works,
and the poorer men, who form companies and

192 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
divide the profits, if any. The second and
third classes are the most paying, as want of
capital limits the operations to a small sphere,
and one which is more easily and conscientious
ly Avorked with personal supervision of the
owners over the workmen to prevent robbery,
the workmen being both low and demoralised.
A rich man, living far away in towns, cannot
overlook his works, and generally employs
agents, who plunder him, and by their rapacity
and carelessness paralyse the free development
of commerce.
And, as the well-being of the farm-labourer is
one of the greatest helps to agriculture, so are
mining operations raised to a firmer footing by
attention to the men who work there. Atten
tion in Siberia should be directed to the ignor
ant and besotted miners who have through the
force of circumstances sunk so low in the social
scale that the labour of regenerating them will
be a work of time, and will require both pati
ence and sacrifice. Every pit-holder would
gladly help if he could but be made to see how
much his own interests are bound up in the
well-being of these men.
We must describe the causes which have
produced this state of things as well as the
process of gold-finding.

GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA. 193
It is sometimes the practice to send agents to
remote villages before the gold-finding season
opens, so as to secure workmen. These men
are hired to commence work in the middle of
March, at from three to five roubles monthly, at
the most six roubles. The workman when en
gaged is paid from ten to fifteen roubles, and
in return he delivers his papers to the agent of
his employers. The money thus obtained, he
drinks, and, when the time comes to begin
Avork, he either hastens to the pit, or is conduct
ed there by the police should he prove refrac
tory. W7hy is it that in Siberia, where wages are
good, there are always men willing to forsake
peaceful homes for a life of care and privation
and sell themselves to the slavery of the mines,
with the full knowledge of the life they must
lead? Because the agents know the weak
side of the men, dazzle them with the sight of
money, and half-stupify them with drink and
dissipation. The day of signing, contracts is
one of jollification. Wodka circulates freely,
songs and laughter fill the air, and the men be
tween a dance and a song sign their names.
' Let us enjoy the present moment Avhile we
can. Why should we look forward ?'
VOL. II. O

194 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
As soon as the agreements are signed, the
agents disappear, Avodka ceases, the musicians
are silent, and there is sadness over everything.
Still there is the money, the orgies recommence,
and continue until the last copeck is spent, and
the last coat and pair of boots have been sold
for drink.
Then it is that the man, hoarse with shouting
and singing, and heavy with drink, is told that
the hour has come when he must work. Agents
procure new boots and coats, taking out then-
cost from future earnings, watching to see
that they do not share the fate of the former
ones, and by persuasion or force the workmen
are forwarded to their destination.
Now let us look at the diggings. They lie
far away amid boundless forests or desert
wastes, mostly in valleys surrounded by moun
tains. The various holdings are built over Avith
dwellings for the accommodation of the work
men, foremen, &c. First rises a large wooden
house, with small windows, the dwelling-place
of the agents' agent, as the latter is generally
too grand a person to bury himself in such an
out-of-the-way spot so as to look after its in
habitants' requirements. On the contrary, he
lives in one of the larger towns, entertains,

GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA. 195
drinks champagne, cheats unblushingly, and
sends monthly reports to the owner, in which
he invariably asserts that all is prospering in
the works confided to his care.
Next to the large house are stables, then
houses for the foremen, and finally a long, low
building, in which the workmen are crowded
together in small rooms. Adjoining is a build
ing pompously called a hospital.
From the 15th of March till May 1st the time
is taken up in preparatory works, such as put
ting up the machinery, &c. This is light la
bour ; the real business commences on the 1st
of May. The machinery placed on the banks
of the river is set in motion by water-power or
horses.* Some of the workmen are employed
in washing the sand, others dig and carry the
sand. The first are always stationary, the
latter in motion. Those who wash the sand
are considered to have the lightest labour ; but,
standing as they do for hours knee-deep in cold
water, they soon fall a prey to various diseases.
* The engines used in washing the sand are of American
construction, and are very simple. A perforated cylinder
and a tray with slits, into which the gold-sand settles after
washing, is all they are composed of. Small owners do not
even use these slight machines, and steam, though intro
duced, is hardly ever employed.
o 2

196 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
The other men have hard work ; two men and
a horse are expected to dig and transport nine
cubic feet of sand to a distance of sometimes a
thousand feet. To do so they must work from
dawn to night ; deducting two hours for meals,
the working hours are from two a.m. until ten
p.m., although the law limits them to five a.m.
till eight p.m. The food is very poor, the
allowance being ' a pound of meat (generally
half-bone) a day, which is insufficient for a man
doing such hard labour. A workman can, how
ever, obtain more food on credit, the money
to be paid at the end of the season ; but this
facility of obtaining credit proves' the ruin of
many. The agent's agent reigns over this small
isolated community, the owner being neither
seen nor known, the agent being seldom visi
ble, and only appearing about once a year.
His agent is the autocratic king. This man
has usually led a chequered life, trying many
things, and failing in all ; he therefore natu
rally clings to a lucrative post, and is anxious
to please his superior, and also line his own
pockets. Book-keeping is his chief occupation,
as there are special men to watch the work
men. He dares not cheat his principal ; it

GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA. 197
would be too dangerous ; so there only remain
those under his authority whom he need not
have any scruples about. Surroundings favour
him ; the colony, being situated in distant,
unfrequented places, the requisites of life are
almost impossible to procure, and though the
men are in daily want of them; they may not
absent themselves for an hour. The agent can
here make his money, as the regulation rations
are too small, and often too bad to be eaten,
and the men must obtain food from him. This
work of fleecing the poor starving colony is
chiefly performed by the agent's wife or house
keeper, as he is too grand to attend to such
homely details.
The work begins at daybreak. A loud call
summons the workmen, and the stream is soon
alive with them ; some dig the sand, others
Avash it and throAv away the gravel. Around
them are stationed the guards, whose duty it
is to watch that no gold is stolen, and to keep
the men at work. The heat is intense, flies
and mosquitoes swarm, and not a moment's
rest can be taken ; the relentless engine requires
sand, gravel, and water. The hours of rest are
insufficient to restore the wasted strength, and
the food too scanty ; and so it goes on for e\-er.

198 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
Soon these pale, starved spectres crawl to
their dens, and fall fainting on the floor, not
to sleep — hunger denies that ; one discovers his
boots are worn out, another cannot keep to
gether the miserable rags he calls clothes, and
lastly, the unfortunate wretch who seeks obliv
ion in drink yearns for a glass of the fiery
liquid. This is the agent's golden opportunity.
His wife possesses everything — good meat,
needles, thread, ready-made clothes, and even
in secret a bottle of vodka. These necessaries
are priced most exorbitantly, but payment is
not asked ; all is entered in the books, and de
ducted on the day of reckoning. Who can
resist such temptations ? In the meantime, the
workman's debts go on increasing, and when
he thinks that the end of the year will see the
end of his sufferings, he finds, to his horror,
that he owes more than he has earned, and
that to be free he must work another year ; in
that year his wants are the same, and so it
continues Avithout end.
The question of workmen's debts to their
OAvners is one of great moment ; much has been
written about it lately, and means are being
sought to remedy the evil.
According to government regulations, every

GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA. 199
large establishment should be provided with a
a doctor, medicines, and an hospital ; in some of
them good doctors, with a sense of their re
sponsibility, are to be found, but more fre
quently the health of the colony is left in
the charge of an ignorant apothecary, whose
practice consists in alternate bleeding and
blistering. In spite of moderate pay and the high-price
of all necessaries, a workman occasionally finds
at the end of the year that he is in the posses
sion of one hundred, two hundred, or even five
hundred roubles. The reason of this is as fol
lows. According to an universally-adopted
system, only the gold sand belongs to the pro
prietor, all bits of gold that can be picked out
without the help of the engine belong one
third to the finder and two thirds to the owner.
These finds are apart from the day's earnings,
and some men are more lucky than others,
some localities more favourable to them than
others. Such lucky workmen are able to meet
the exorbitant prices put upon everything, and
to carry away a good sum of money. Reason
would suggest that, taught by experience, these
men would invest their earnings in some under
taking in trade or agriculture. Not so. The

200 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
man never thinks but of what is. As soon as all
accounts are settled he hurries to the store,
throws down his money, and buys everything
he sees without thinking of bargaining. Pur
chasing new clothes and a red sash, and snatch
ing up a harmonium, he departs without asking
for change, singing one of the gay songs belovr-
ed by Siberian peasants. Noav is the time for
ambulatory speculators to bring sweatmeats,
fruit, cakes, etc., to the mines ; all things are
bought up immediately without reference to
price. Last year a conjuror, seeing his tricks were
not appreciated even in the small Siberian
toAvns, set off for the diggings; he went without
a copeck and returned with a thousand roubles.
A very few workmen are retained upon the
premises during winter ; they cut down and saw
trees, repair houses, bring up materials ; the rest
by thousands must return to their homes. But
hoAv? that is the question ; the shortest journey
is expensive. The agent lends the money, de
ducting it from next year's pay. Thus those
who for a short time have been rich, as well as
those who are already in debt, return to their
homes loaded with liabilities binding them for the
future.

GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA. 201
Many will say that these lost ones have but
themselves to blame. Diggings are not a
school, and workmen children. This is true;
but this frenzy would not come upon them
with such force when their labour is finished if
that labour were not so hard and its duration
curtailed. As I have before remarked, many thinking
men are endeavouring to remedy this state of
things. Mr. Paul Pizzerykow, a native of the
grand Duchy of Finland, who has inhabited the
town of Minusinsk for many years, and lately
become a part-owner of one of the diggings,
has written several articles to the papers upon
the question. His writings not only have been
the cause of an improvement in the condition
of the workmen, but have also shown the per
nicious effect which the granted privileges have
had upon the spread of this industry.
A new law permitting everyone to seek for
gold has ruined the monopoly, and the activity
which during the last year has prevailed over
the whole gold surface, engenders the hope that
this wise regulation Avill sustain the tottering
enterprise. In by-gone times a man, having a permit to
explore for marble, coal, iron, zinc, or copper,

202 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
had no right to touch any gold he might come
across. He had no alternative, when in his
excavations he came upon the glittering metal,
but to leave it to the mercies of wind and tide,
useless either to himself or his country.
The new law, though disliked by the rich
gold miners, is really for the public good. True,
numbers of small enterprisers will dam up
gold yielding water-courses to the detriment of
those working lower down, and cause disputes ;
but is there a law framed hy human hands that
has not its drawbacks? When the benefits
outweigh the drawbacks, the aim is attained, in
spite of the objections of the few who place
their own interest above public profit.
The next point is that the dark, morally
blind and fallen mass of men, upon whom the
whole work depends, should be raised from the
mire in which they are wallowing. Let us hope
that, with the abolition of the monopoly, this
change will gradually be accomplished. Small
holders, employing but few workmen, keep no
agents, look into the smallest details themselves,
and are better able to help their men and im
prove their condition than any laAv for their
benefit ; with physical improvement, mental will
follow. To start fresh, past debts should be

GOLD-DIGGING IN SIBERIA. 203
forgiven and the system of unlimited credit
should be crushed. This will cost two millions —
a large sum ; but when we bear in mind that its
disbursement will be distributed among several
thousands of owners, who have grown rich
through the work of the wretched creatures
whose cause we are advocating, we cannot but
consider that it ought to be easily accom
plished. NOTE — I ought to explain that the decrease
in the yield of gold spoken of by me is only
experienced in the exhausted quarries of Tomsk,
Yenisei, and Irkoutsk. The country of the
Amoor and the immense land of the Yakutsk
provinces contain unknown treasures in their
bosom. A short time ago these lands were
explored, and the results answered the expect
ations formed. In the Amoor country the new
mines belonging to Messrs. Jakobson, Berinida,
& Co. produce annually between one hundred
and a hundred and fifty poods of gold, and the
new mine of Messrs. Benardok & Co. has spread
its ramifications far into the uninhabited deserts
of the Yakutsk. Whoever is acquainted with
this province, will understand the stupendous
difficulties that had to be overcome. On the

/

204 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
banks of the Lena the settlements of the
aborigines are often from one hundred to one
thousand versts distant from each other, and
leaving the river there are no traces of human
habitation. To the mines situated in such
deserts all necessaries of life have to be trans
ported from immense distances, and there are
not only no roads but no vestiges of human life
on the way.

205

CHAPTER X.
SIBERIAN PEDLARS.
SIBERIAN merchants, inhabiting larger or
smaller towns standing upon a large or
small scale, are like in every respect to Euro
pean Russian merchants, and, as these have al
ready been minutely described by Russian nov
elists and authors it Avould be foolish to repeat
what has been already said, and well said. A
packman or pedlar is, however, a purely Siberian
creation. I do not mean small shop-keepers,
who exist in villages, and are placed there by
wealthier merchants ; these are already known
by description.
The true Siberian pedlar is generally a well-
to-do peasant, a Cossack on furlough, or a con
vict sent to Siberia for a crime, but not impri
soned. These men scrape a little money to-

206 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
gether, place it in business, buy at the nearest
towns all sorts of useful articles, and sell them
in different villages at double their value. This
trade is not lucrative, despite the high prices
asked, as the peasant, knowing that things can
be bought cheaper and better in the small town,
leaves most of his purchases until he can get
there, and only deals with the pedlar when
short of stores, or the bad roads or agricultural
hindrances prevent the journey to town.
The pedlar has, therefore, generally another
calling. If a peasant, he does not forsake his
land, but makes wife or daughter serve in the
shop, and during the busiest time of harvest, the
shop is forsaken. Some trade in corn, in cattle,
others again retain their shop as a cloak to a
less creditable business and one amenable to the
law. These different occupations are the reason
that the Siberian packman like the god Janus is
of two-fold appearance. In the morning, clad in a
long dressing-gown, you can see him measuring
calico and weighing sugar, and with a pleasant
smile trying to give short measure and weight.
In the evening, dressed in his peasant clothes, he
becomes a member of the village administration,
and judges various delinquencies with a severe
countenance. One day he buys cheap, but sick

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 207
coavs, the next as a magistrate forbids on sani
tary grounds the slaughter of diseased cattle.
If the pedlar is a Cossack on furlough, or a lib
erated exile, this double individuality shoAvs
itself differently.
In every case, Sundays and holidays make a
great change, and whoever has seen a Siberian
shop-keeper and family in the week-day would
hardly know them on Sunday ; it is like a change
of scene in the theatre.
Grigoriji Tarasicz Trosyen, the pedlar in the
village of Balachta, is also the parish clerk.
During the few hours spent in his office, his
chief duty is signing the permits of gold-miners,
that enable them to seek their livelihood else
where. His countenance is then grave and
dignified, and he is evidently fully aware of
the responsibility attached to his post, and the
respect it commands. When conducting an
inquiry, his penetrating eye strikes terror into
the breasts of innocent people. He speaks
little, and uses the plural 'we' in order to
show that all the varied engines of the law are
centred in him, who, though but a very subor
dinate official, is important to his unenlight
ened neighbours. As soon as official business
is over, he throws aside his black coat, and with

208 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
it his judicial manner, assumes his peasant dress
and fur cap, and becomes a shopkeeper. How
sweet and pleasant he is then ! How he smiles T
how quickly he serves his customers ! The poor
moujik, who but a moment previously trembled
before his stern, official gaze, now claps him on
the back and indulges in the coarse jest so
much liked by all Siberians. Grigoriji is by no
means offended ; on the contrary, he considers
it a mark of friendship, and he who a short
hour ago said, 'Everyone should be obedient
before a magistrate,' now bends his back and
murmurs, ' Your humble servant, at your ser
vice.' Thus in his earthly form are tAvo
characters, I had almost said souls.
As the head of the establishment thus changes
in the day, so the other members likewise vary ;
but only on Sundays and holidays. On week
days Grigoriji Tarasicz's house is that of a
tradesman, on Sundays that of an important
government official. During the week the
shutters of the parlours are hermetically sealed,
and the business of life is carried on in the
kitchen, where lords Melanie Ignatiewna, the
mistress of the house. She is an active, quar
relsome, fat matron. Children and servants all
tremble at the sound of her harsh voice, which

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 209
is heard from morning till night. Even her
husband, when returning from his business of
an evening, draws his cap tighter about his
ears and slips into the hay-loft, fearful of en
countering her in an unlucky moment. The
orders issuing from the kitchen, though appar
ently insignificant, are incessant. From dawn
to night everyone is astir. Bread is baked,
butter made, milk scalded, and kwas pre
pared. The two daughters, Tassia and Tatiana, run
about bare-footed, dirty, uncombed, unable
to fulfil half that is expected of them. The
eldest son chops wood and carries water ; the
younger, who is always in mischief, stealing
eggs and playing ninepins, gets periodical
beatings. The house is full of life, and the
mistress is never idle, controlling everything
and looking into every detail. This noise con
tinues from Monday morning until Saturday
afternoon ; then a blessed calm settles on the
house. From the bath-house, situated in the
yard, a dense smoke issues. The whole family
are taking a Turkish bath carried to an almost
melting heat. After this test of fire, which no
European could endure without instant apo
plexy, the whole family appear, red in the face
VOL. II. p

210 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
and steaming. They partake of a slight repast
and retire to bed.
The next day is the change. The house and
people are the same, but the alteration is so
great that a stranger to Siberian habits would
hardly believe it. After church, the usually
shut-up parlours stand open. These rooms are
large and airy, the parquets well-polished, cur
tains at the windows, portieres at the doors,
little tables set about laden with china, and on
the wall a large picture of the patron saint in a
gilt frame, with a lamp before it. The place of
honour on the sofa is occupied by Melanie
IgnatieAvna, dressed in silk or satin, with a
kosinka (a head-dress worn by married women)
on her head. Her daughters wear crinolines,
and haAre stuffed out their hair with hemp to
imitate frizettes. They pretend to look at
some borrowed illustrated papers, which, as
they cannot read, they do not much under
stand. Grigoriji Avalks up and down expecting
his guests.
They soon arrive. First comes the pope
(priest) and deacon, then the mayor and his
wife, and other village dignitaries. All these
people, though they meet every Sunday, look
shy and embarrassed. The conversation em-

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 211
braces the weather, trade, cattle-disease, etc.
The owner of the illustrated papers approaches
the young ladies and asks,
' Hoav do you like the pictures V
c Not much — they are all black. Now trees
should be green, water blue, and people's faces
pink.' ' Listen,' whispers Tarasicz to the pope, ' how
well my daughter talks about books. Not a
stupid girl — is she ?'
The cook hands tea round, and the mayor,
taking up the guitar and striking it, asks the
young ladies,
' Do you like music ?'
' Who would not Uke it, especially when you
listen to an accordion?'
' When we lived in the province of Tomsk,'
adds another, ' I heard the gipsies play ; it
was lovely. I imagine one played the fiddle,
another a trumpet, and a third the flute, and —
would you believe it ? — although they all played
together, they did not seem to interfere with
each other.'
All this time Melanie sat immovable, like an
idol in a pagoda. Her exalted social position
required this dignity, besides which, her dress,
and especially her boots, to which she was un-
P2

212 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
accustomed, stopped her movements. Looking
at her expensive dress, she counts the hours,
and sighs for the time, when she will return to
a more congenial sphere.
Alas ! dignities and grandeur have often to
be heavily paid for. Many a king clad in purple
longs for the time when he can enjoy himself
amongst his friends. So Melanie, sitting on
the sofa in silks and crinoline, sighs for freedom
and the glow of the kitchen fire.
After tea more solid refreshments are handed
round. The men drink many small glasses of
strong spirits, conversation brightens, the
faces redden, and the mayor, who as a savant
considers he should lead the conversation,
turns it upon thieves and robberies. This
theme leads to the question whether criminals
are unrecognizable or possess a distinct class of
face and manner from honest people. The
opinions are divided, some deeming that Nature
has set a distinct seal upon all malefactors,
others maintaining that they cannot be dis
tinguished. ' When we lived in the province of Tomsk,'
said one of the ladies, ' a convict was sent to us
there, a youth, lovely as an angel, twenty-three
years old, fair hair, languid blue eyes, and a

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 213
sweet smile. He was gentle, quiet, and mod
est, and we all thought he had been convicted
of some trifle, such as taking public money,
which can befall — anyone; but fancy our aston
ishment when we learned he was a murderer.'
' A murderer V
' Yes, and of the Worst kind. He had been
an officer in the Guards, and, notwithstanding
his gracious manner, he was a malefactor of the
deepest dye. He had taken two swords, given
one to a lieutenant in his regiment, walked
out with him outside the town, there fought
him and killed him, and before two witnesses,
too!' 'Before witnesses?'
' Yes, this criminal took witnesses to see
him brave both heavenly and human laws. Is
it not the refinement of crime ! and for this he
was merely exiled there ; the knout or the gal
lows would have been more suitable.'
There was a pause — everyone wondered over
the monsters of wickedness that occasionally
come into the world. But we cannot improve
the world ! better have a drink ! The men
return to the table where the vodka is placed.
The ladies retire into an adjoining room where,
under the guidance of their hostess, who has

214 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
at last left her sofa, they partake of various
refreshments. The conversation becomes
noisy, and only detached phrases are heard.
' Grigoriji Tarasicz.'
' Fill your glass.'
' Let all alive drink well.'
From the next room come the words,
' Agafia Warlamoona, don't make any cere
mony.' ' Really, Melaine Ignatiewna, I cannot drink
any more.'
' Your wine-glass is still full.'
' When Ave lived in the province of Tomsk.'
A man meanwhile continues to strum the
guitar, humming an air, then the men take-up
the chorus, gradually ladies' voices chime in
until they are all singing what follows.
' A pretty girl one evening
Was minding her geese,
A dark-eyed girl
Called her geese thus :
" Tiega, tiega, tiega, tiega."*
After this song others follow, more ener
getic, about merry Vanca, the young officer,
etc. All this well-sprinkled with frequent
visits to the refreshment-table, until the
* The usual way of calling geese in Siberia.

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 215
songs become more and more mixed, and no
vestige of harmony is left. The musician in
despair throws down his guitar and accompanies
the singers by hitting his tumbler with a
knife. It is impossible to carry on any conver
sation ; one lady tries several times, but her
words are smothered. The noise increases, one
sings bass, another tenor, another whistles, put
ting his fingers in his mouth, a third claps his
hands, drones out a psalm or a galop, while the
host, quite tipsy, runs from one guest to
another muttering the refrain, ' Tiega, tiega,
tiega.' No one remembers what follows. One
thing is certain, that Grigoriji awakes next
morning with a big bump on his forehead, Avhile
one guest has a black eye, and all an unac
countable pain in their bones. Except these
casualties, everything resumes its normal
condition on the next day. The pedlar sits
behind his counter, the festive apartments are
closed, Melanie's voice is heard issuing from
the smoky kitchen, her daughters are barefoot,
and run to the brook to wash the house-linen
or prepare the pigs' food. Sic transit gloria
mundi !
The aboA'e type of shopman and government

216 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
employe combined is the most defined one in
Siberia; the others are shrouded in a mysterious
obscurity, not easily pierced by the uninitiated.
With the Cossack packman everything is
obscure ; every action of his evokes a sign of
interrogation. To begin with, no one knows
the source of his stock-in-trade. He left the
service with three roubles in his pocket, under
took a long journey, and returned with a large
store of bank-notes, bought his goods, and
settled iu the first populous village, where he
opened his shop. His business transactions are
unknown, so are his profits ; the half-closed
shutters of his shop prevent an examination of
his goods, Avhile much is concealed in cellars,
and never see daylight, and many things remain
on view for years on account of the exorbitant
price asked for them. He personally goes to
the town, returning with cheap articles, the
sale of which could not pay the expenses of his
journey. But sometimes of a dark, moonless
night strangers appear in his house, who unload
from their carts many large cases and bundles.
He confides in no one, trades alone, and will
not take a copeck off, but he will occasionally
sell at half-price a piece of silk or satin that
has found its way accidentally among his small

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 217
rubbish. This he sells more willingly to some
one from a distance than to a neighbour.
He is generally morose, silent, and short to
his customers. On week-days he sits in his
shop and smokes ; on Sundays he does not in
vite in his neighbours, but shuts up his shop
and seeks the nearest public, where silently
and alone he gets drunk. His drunkenness
never prevents his going home by himself. At
night he sometimes fires out of a rusty gun
to frighten away thieves, but his neighbours
affirm that, soon after the report, unknown in
dividuals crawl out of the bushes, vvith whom
he holds secret conferences.
The Cossack pedlar is not matrimonially in
clined, and, as a rule, he keeps no servant, but
manages his OAvn housekeeping. If by chance
he marries, his Avife is the most unhappy being
in existence. Beaten on week-days from morn
ing to night, her only chance of revenge comes
on a Sunday or fete-day, when the drunken
husband has not strength to escape from the
whip freely used by his better-half. The tyrant
of every day becomes a victim !
This man commands great respect from all
the village officials ; even the mayor touches
his cap to him. The searches Avhich his house

218 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
is frequently subjected to on account of the
mystery enveloping it are simply matters of
form, and nothing is ever found, whether owing
to his roubles or his influence I have not dis
covered. No one likes him, but he is feared;
his nearest neighbours, who suffer most by him,
are afraid to complain openly, and only secretly
advise the authorities. For this he cares no
thing, bringing out a greasy bundle of bank
notes, and fully aware that this talisman will
save him from all unpleasantness.
Such is the Siberian Cossack pedlar ; if ex
ceptions occur, it is but seldom, as almost all of
them are banished for some grave crime ; and
in spite of the assertions of some philanthropists
that a criminal can with time return to the
paths of virtue, the examples taken from Sibe
rian social life point in the opposite direction.
Nothing contains so much truth as the common
proverb, ' What is bred in the bone comes out
in the flesh.'
This great truth is even more palpable when
the sentenced criminals are more thoroughly
known. Some successfully hide their bad in
stincts so as to earn a general esteem, but their
true nature nevertheless remains the same.
The Cossack pedlar is generally a man of no

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 219
education, and unable to read and write, but
other criminals are often men of average, and
sometimes of first-rate, education, and these are
more to blame. Arriving in Siberia, they try
all kinds of occupations, and, though bad to
the core, they can dissimulate so well as almost
always to hide their vices, and the public,
unable to see beneath the surface, believes in
their honesty. Many of them arrive with ill-
gotten money sewn into their clothes, others
marry rich Siberian women, and open a small
shop as a cloak to a more lucrative, though less
legal, business.
I will endeavour to show one of these men
and his doings.
Saicz Gubanoff had been sent to Siberia
some twenty years ago. What his social posi
tion had been no one knew ; but, judging from
his manner and conversation, he must have re
ceived a fair education. Those who saw him
on his first arrival maintain that, in spite of his
convict dress, he looked like a town dandy.
But a quarter of a man's life passed in an out-
of-the-Avay Siberian village will wear off exter
nal polish, and when I knew him all he retained
of his old education was a certain dignified
manner and a civilized speech, with an avoid-

220 SIBERIAN PICTURES. ii
ance of curses and coarse expressions. He was
seldom angry, and, when so, used his fists in
preference to profane words. ' God Almighty,'
he used to say (differing from other convicts,
who are careful not to trespass upon the second
commandment), ' has given us this natural
weapon of man to allow him to repulse an un
just assault, but a curse should never soil the
lips of those who in prayer pronounce His holy
name.' Gubanoff, in the first year of his sojourn,
married the daughter of a local peasant. His
wife, like most Siberian girls, was ignorant and
vulgar ; besides being immoral, she was hump
backed and ugly. But these moral and physi
cal defects were compensated by a dowry of five
hundred silver roubles. Gubanoff, a man of
experience, and only believing in the power of
gold, was not troubled by scruples ; he desired
a start in life, and that his wife's dowry gave
him. He at once took a packman's business,
and was soon known for miles round, for his
money, his ample means, and his dignity made
him universally respected. Nothing exercises
such influence over illiterate people as an
assumption of superiority ; not a man was to be
found who spoke of him but with respectful

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 221
admiration, and should a murmur of dislike
arise it was soon smothered by public indigna
tion against the slanderer.
His money seemed to multiply miraculously.
While carrying on a trade of small trumpery
things, which gave little or no profit, he was
accumulating a large capital, and no one
imagined that this trade was but a blind to a
more mysterious business. Be was popularly
thought to be extremely clever, and this reputed
cleverness explained all. Such was Saicz
Gubanoff in public, we shall soon see what he
was in private life.
Gubanoff for a long time attended to his
business single-handed, but Avith its increase,
and other duties which took up much of his
time, he decided to take an assistant. From a
large number of applicants he selected a young
man coming from a distant country, who had
to reside in Siberia in consequence of some very
sad events.*
Mr. Charles M  belonged to a good family,
and had received a good education ; he was
*The author means a Polish political offender. But, had
he expressed himself more clearly, his book would not have
been allowed to pass through the censor's office. —
Translator.

222 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
quiet, gentle, and, above all, thoroughly honest
and honourable. The sphere he was entering
was far beneath him, but it assured him a
living, and he was sadly in want of that, He
assented with joy to the pedlar's propositions.
' In crossing my threshold,' said Gubanoff, in
his usual dignified manner, ' you become a
member of my family. I am accustomed to
treat my assistant like my son, and not as a
servant. I hear you are a God-fearing man,
and I am glad of it. Having given to God
Avhat is God's, endeavour to be grateful to
people for what they do to you. Be assiduous,
faithful, and sober, and your welfare is assured.
I say nothing as yet about your wages, they
will depend upon the value of your work. In
any case, I have never yet given anyone cause
to complain of me.'
Having delivered this speech, the pedlar
introduced the young man to his family. It
consisted of the hunchback wife, now old, halt
blind, nearly deaf, and stingy beyond expres
sion, and three daughters, the eldest eighteen,
and two much younger. This family-party
was completed by Paraskowia, a servant
girl of thirty, short, fat, and ugly, with

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 223
face pitted with smaU-pox. This woman, by
dint of flattery and scandal, had wormed herself
into the good graces of her master.
The pedlar was firmness itself in his home
rule ; he knew that, were he once to given way,
anarchy would set-in ; but, as his occupations
kept him from home for days together, his
power was but temporary, and as soon as he
was gone petticoat government reigned supreme.
The regent in these times was Masha, the
eldest daughter. She was a truly lovely girl,
fair-haired, blue-eyed, well made, with chiselled
features. She looked the type of a repentant
Magdalene. But, if Masha was like a Magdalene,
the last qualification could not be applied to
her. She was bad to the core, as bad as only
these children of the desert can be when they
once forsake the path of virtue. Her father
knew of his daughter's behaviour, but was
silent. What was the use of words, they will
not turn paste into diamonds ; besides, he was
not sure whether such a state of things was not
very advantageous to his pocket.
Having made the acquaintance of this
respectable family, let us enter with Mr.
M  .

224 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
' Here is my new assistant,' said Gubanoff.
' I expect you to feed him well, and treat him
as one of the family.'
The wife got down from the palata, came up
to the stranger, and, having examined him all
over, returned to her place, muttering,
' Assistant, indeed ! As if we had not enough
mouths to feed without bringiug-in strangers
from the end of the world. He will eat us out
of house and home.'
' Silence, woman,' cried her husband. ' Don't
growl, and don't count the pieces he puts into
his mouth. I like my servants to be Avell
fed.' Masha, occupied with some household work,
gave him a look out of her bright eyes, and
whispered to the servant-girl. The tradesman
returned to his shop, and Mr. M  sat down
and looked about him in silence. The begin
ning was not encouraging.
'Do you know anything?' growled the old
woman. 'Can you look after horses, chop
wood, make hay ? You are a stranger ; and
they generally only know how to eat.'
'I have been hired as an assistant, and not as
a ploughboy,' said Mr. M  .
' Really ! Perhaps, then, you intend to sit

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 225
all day in the shop ; cheat us, stuff down food,
and sleep on the palata.'
' Shut up, mother,' interrupted Masha. ' You
should not discourage the young man in this
way. Perhaps all will go well. And now it is
time to have something to eat.'
They put basins, with food in them, on the
table. Masha, who at home exercised un
divided sway, seated Mr. M  by her side,
gave him the best of everything, and, in fact,
took him under her protection, which might
have been a guarantee of a passable future, if
this amability had arisen from kindness or pity.
After dinner, Mr. M  took his master's
place in the shop. The business was not dif
ficult. After a few directions, the new assistant
performed his duties as if he had done nothing
else all his life. Prices, previously doubled,
had to be raised still more when selling, and
only lowered as little as possible if the pur
chaser bargained. Credit was given to all ;
people hardly ever paid ready-money. The
name and debt were put down, and the master
himself collected the money. He never allowed
anyone to interfere with this part of his trade.
Towards evening the shop was shut, and the
master, conducting his assistant into the court-
VOL. II. Q

226 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
yard, threw down before the door some boards
and a paliasse, and said,
' You had better go to bed now, for you must
be up early to-morrow.'
Mr. M  looked at him with astonishment.
' What ! am I to sleep outside ?'
' And where else did you intend to sleep ?
The assistant ought always to mind the shop,
and this is everywhere the custom. And you
must not sleep too soundly, as thieves are very
cunning. Here is a loaded pistol. Good night.'
The poor young man never closed his eyes
all night. The cold was intense, and the sheep
skins given him were not sufficient to keep him
warm. But he had resolved to bear and not
complain. Had he not thus to pay for the
brilliant situation he had obtained, which had
excited such general envy ?
Thus passed my friend's first days at the
pedlar's. The whole day behind the counter,
the night outside in the cold. He spoke little,
prayed ardently, and fulfilled his duties, carry
ing his mind far, far away to where his poor
mother wept the loss of her son. In time he
became accustomed to the cold nights and
manifold discomforts, as necessity generally
makes men used to things, and he would have

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 227
been at least content to let things go on but
for an incident which had a great influence on
his position in the house.
I have mentioned the character and habits
of Masha. With such propensities on one side,
and a hatred of all that was low and coarse on
the other, a rupture soon ensued, and a cruel
mortification to a hitherto very amiable beauty.
Everyone knows what a woman's wounded
vanity is, and Siberians are no exception to
the rule. From that moment he was syste
matically persecuted at every opportunity.
First, Masha tried to blacken his character
in her father's eyes, but the cunning Gubanoff
knew his daughter's character and his assist
ant's honesty too well to believe her stories.
Seeing this plan was useless, Masha put a
few yards of cloth from the shop among the
poor man's things, and then took her father
to the corner where lay the scanty wardrobe.
Gubanoff merely shrugged his shoulders, and
rated his daughter soundly.
Then, seeing that all efforts to ruin him in
her father's sight were unavailing, this vindic
tive enemy began a stealthy warfare without
a moment's respite.
As soon as Mr. M  had finished his morn-
Q2

228 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
ing's work and begun breakfast, he was reviled
and ridiculed about his tattered garments and
pretended large appetite.
'This glutton will starve us all. Look,
Paraskowia, that is the fourth piece of meat
he has eaten! It would be better to put
him in the pig-stye, and feed him on pigs'
swill.' The old mother, from the palata, assented
to all her daughter said, and re-echoed her
sentiments. ' True, Masha ; he will eat us up/
The little girls, taught by their elder sister,
used to bring him old bones and other refuse,
and say, ' Here, you can eat these,' while Paras
kowia laughed heartily at their witticisms.
Then his old coat was the target for their
shots. ' What a shame,' Masha would say, 'to keep
such a tattered beggar in the house; and he
wishes to be called an assistant. He had much
better take a stick, and go from door to door
begging.' ' He will bring vermin into the house,' chimed
in the mother. And the children put pieces
of paper or wood into his hands, and said,
' Here is a copeck for you, pray for us.'

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 229
The victim of this ill-usage suffered in silence,
only sometimes, when the persecution was at
its height, he used to glance at a badly-painted
picture of Joseph and Potiphar's wife, which
hung on one of the walls, and think how he too
was suffering for his innocence and virtue.
Masha, seeing all her arrows fall harmless,
tried other means. After many unsuccessful at
tempts, she at last came upon a bleeding wound.
His whole past, and the love he bore his unfor
tunate, lonely mother, could not escape the
animosity of this degraded wretch.
Touched to the quick, he gave vent to his in
dignation. In a moment the hubbub became
general, Masha and Paraskowia seized upon
pieces of wood. Mr. M  defended himself
with a stick and the old mother shouted for
help. The husband ran in, and, finding out the
cause, he scolded his daughter, beat the ser
vant, and restored a momentary peace.
But Mr. M  felt that this could not go on.
He knew by experience that at Gubanoff s first
absence the stifled feud would blaze out with
redoubled force. When he explained this to
his master, he fell into deep thought.
' 1 see no other way/ he said at length, ' of
helping you, than by changing the nature of

230 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
your occupations. Henceforth you will go with
me, buy the goods, and help to dispose of them
in the villages.'
Mr. M  joyfully accepted this proposal.
He was glad to get away from the domestic hell
he had fallen into at any price. From this
time began a life full of work, labour, and dis
comfort. The whole day out in the cold, often
Avithout food, he had to sleep in the sleigh and
be answerable for everything, the health of the
horses, the safety of the goods from injury
and thieAres, and the life of the often inebriated
master. But he never complained. The pedlar, seeing
his patience and long-suffering, exacted more
and more from him, and when not traveUing
employed him in the hardest labours, under the
pretence of keeping him out of the house. He
had to go to the forest for wood, cut it, cut hay,
carry water, etc. Months passed, he was half-
killed with hard work, and still not a word
spoken about wages. If he ever mentioned
the subject, Gubanoff would say,
' What do you want, boots or a coat ? I can
lend you these things for[a time. L/will not give
you any money, as you have all you want, and
the cash would only dissolve in your hands, and

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 231
you would have nothing when you left me I
Be sure I know how to value such a man like
you, and at parting you will be handsomely
paid.' M  went on working, and the master
laughed in his sleeve at such simplicity.
There was another inmate at Gubanoff's
whom we have not yet mentioned. He was a
quiet, sad old man. For years and years he
tried many kinds of small government employ
ments, but was dismissed from all for drinking.
So passed his life, and when old age arrived he
found himself destitute. Long practice in clerk-
manship had made him a good writer ; he could
embellish the titles of acts with various flour
ishes, could shade the capital letters, and copy
different handwritings perfectly. Such per-
fect'caligraphy made in Siberia a learned man
of him.
For the last two years the pedlar had receiv
ed him into his house, fed and clothed him,
and not only required no work from him, but
was full of indulgence for his favourite fault.
TAvice a week Gubanoff would himself bring
him several pots of ' vodka,' and lock him up in
a garret where the old man would drink him
self insensible. When sober he was let loose

232 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
again, and then no inducement would make
him swallow a mouthful of his favourite bever
age. Gubanoff used to say that this man was
a distant relation of his, and that he was in the
house out of charity, but he never broached the
subject himself.
Mr. M  was employed for months in the
hardest labours, which he preferred to returning
to his former occupation in the house ; but not-
Avithstanding his manifold works he did not
fail to notice many incidents he could in no way
explain. He noticed, for instance, that the si
lent old man would sometimes be for hours
closeted with Gubanoff, who at such times
would see no one, not even creditors bringing
money. This was astonishing.
At times during the night, when the cold
kept him awake, he would perceive a gleam of
light through the shutters of the small room
inhabited by the old man. Evidently this crea
ture, who at first sight had nothing to do, must
be occupied in important business. M  , not
caring to interfere in other people's affairs, did
not attempt to unravel the mystery, and would
not have discovered it had it not been for his
master's behaviour.
For some time past Gubanoff had evidently

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 233
tried to make friends with his assistant. Not
by improving the young man's position — for a
Siberian is generous only in words, and nothing
can induce him to lighten a hard lot or part
with his beloved money — but he praised M 
constantly for his honesty, sobriety, and good
conduct. M  , delighted at this good dispo
sition of his master, worked with redoubled
energy, not suspecting a trap.
Things Avere thus, when one day Gubanoff
called him in and said,
' I have been watching you for some time ;
you are an honest man, and such men are rare
here.' M  bowed in silence.
' The occupations you have hitherto had are
not fit for you ; the time has come to prove to
you my unbounded confidence in your honesty.
I am a plain man and come to the point at
once. Hitherto, unable to trust anyone, I have
myself paid out the money used in my business;
to-day I delegate this to you. You will be
more than an assistant, you will be my cashier.
Here are three hundred roubles,' added he, taking
out a roll of bank notes ; ' you will go eighty
versts away to the yourts of the aborigines,
and you will pay these Tartars whose names I

234 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
have written down the money for the furs and
felt I have bought from them. Take also this
form of receipt which you will make them sign.'
M  was almost dumb with astonishment I
Could it be possible? This shopkeeper who
would not believe in anyone where money was
in question, who was anxious about a single
copeck, could he change like this towards him
self? It was not natural.
' Thank you for your confidence in me, but I
cannot undertake the business.'
' Why ?' asked Gubanoff, with evident dis
satisfaction. ' Because you put too great a responsibility
upon me. Were I to lose this sum by accident
or theft, I could never repay it.'
' Don't allow such a trifle to stop you. I am
sure you will try your best to save me from
loss, and, if in spite of all your care it Avere to
happen, I shall not expect you to refund the
sum, nor would the ties of goodwill which now
exist between us be broken thereby.'
Here M  's astonishment outstepped all
bounds. Knowing his master for so many
months, and aware of his suspicion and caution,
he could not understand this sudden alteration
in his conduct. He remembered hoAV but a few

SD3ERIAN PEDLARS. 235
days ago, when counting up the day's sale, a
loss of five copecks occurred, and the pedlar
had given him no peace counting and recount
ing, and would not allow him to sleep until the
money was found at the bottom of his master's
own leathern pouch, where it had been put by
mistake. Why this sudden change? Unable
to account for it, he again decidedly refused, in
spite of the growing ill-humour of his master.
Left alone with his thoughts, he pondered on-
what had taken place, and an indescribable fear
took possession of him. The mysterious old
man occurred to him and the unexplained sub
mission of Gubanoff towards an individual who
did nothing. He asked himself whether all
these- things were not connected by some secret
link. Actuated not by mere curiosity but from
a desire to get out of a disagreeable situation,
he resolved to penetrate the mystery. Once on
the road, a hundred details struck him. The
looks he had noticed pass between Gubanoff
and the old man, a whisper, a gesture, all club
bed together took gigantic proportions in his
excited imagination, and gave rise to many
speculations. Several weeks passed without any change.
M  worked more diligently than ever in-

236 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
order to recover his peace of mind, but his sus
picions once aroused kept him in a fever ; the
people he lived with became unbearable to him,
his task thankless, and the whole moral atmo
sphere heavy and suffocating. It is impossible
to say what the end of such a mental state
would have been, had not an accident changed
the face of all things.
One night, in spite of his fatigue, M 
could not sleep. The cold was intense, and
heavy drifts of snow, disturbed by the wind,
covered his face. This physical discomfort,
combined with sad thoughts of his loved ones
prevented that solace which makes all forget
for a time the sorrows of life. While he was
thus lying on the steps outside the shopkeeper's
door, whose house and money he was forced to
watch dog-fashion, he fancied he heard a slight
noise in the waggon-shed ; at first he took it
for the wind, but as he listened more attentively
it became more and more distinct. In this
waggon-shed stood the sledge ready packed for
Gubanoff" s journey on the morrow.
The thought occurred to him that thieves had
got in ; so, snatching up his pistol, he crawled
cautiously to the wall of the outhouse. Through
the chink of the door a faint light issued. M 

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 237
placed his eye to the aperture, and tried to see
inside. At first the feeble light proceeding from
a smoky lantern prevented his distinguishing
objects, but when his eye became accustomed to
the light he saAv two men bending over the
sledge. He was just going to open the door,
the key of which he possessed, and assail the
two thieves, when one of them said a few words
to his companion. At the sound of his voice,
M  's hand fell powerless to his side ; it was
Gubanoff's. ' All right,' said he, • everything is in its place ;
it was a good idea to put the papers so that in
case of a custom-house examination one could
deny their possession, and say they had been
put in by somebody else.'
' Still the first thought was the best,' an
swered the second man, in a low tone.
M  recognised the mysterious old man.
' Of course ; but this fool would on no account
undertake the payments.'
'Perhaps he guesses something.'
' Oh, no ; he did it from an exaggerated hon
esty. Another man would have accepted the
proposal, and 1 should have been only too
glad if he had pocketed a few on his own ac
count.'

238 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
'I understand. Then he would have been
ours.' ' Even so ; sooner or later he must be mixed
up in this business. I have my plan. Should
there be an examination, I will put the machine
and dies amongst his clothes, in this way ; either
he will be answerable, or his compatriots will
join to buy him off.'
' Admirably imagined.'
' By-the-by, I forgot to ask where you have
hidden the little machine and dies.'
' In the garden, under the fallen wall — the
side near the stable.'
' That is an unsafe place.'
' There is no other. I could not keep them
in the room.'
' Never mind for the present ; on my return
home I will find a better place.'
Saying these words, Gubanoff and his com
panion left the waggon-shed by another door
that communicated Avith the house. The poor
assistant crawled back to his cold, hard bed,
but he could not sleep. There was much to be
thought over.
From the conversation he had overheard, he
saw he was threatened by some misfortune the
nature of which was hidden. He felt like a fly

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 239
in a spider's web, isolated from the world. How
should he escape ?
Thinking thus, he remembered the old man's
words, ' In the garden, beneath the ruined wall.'
There was no time to lose in meditation, action
must be prompt. M  rose, and, first ascer
taining from the snores issuing from Gubanoff 's
and the old man's room that they slept the
sleep of the innocent and of Siberian criminals,
he found an iron bar to break the ice, and
sought the spot.
Once there, he sat down on the ground and
began to remove the snow. It was soft and
not frozen, and had evidently been lately dis
turbed. After half an hour's work, he came
upon a hard wooden box. Taking it carefully
out, he hid it under the doorsteps.
The next day, after the shopkeeper had gone
on his journey, and while the family were still
in bed, he ran to a fir-forest near with the box
under his arm. With a beating heart he lifted
up the lid. Inside were colours, paint-brushes,
dies, printing-type, and irons "like those used for
making cubes. Some of the types were.arranged
in Avords screwed together. He tried to read
them. They were as follows : — 'One rouble sil
ver.' 'Five roubles silver.' 'Ten roubles silver.'

240 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
In a moment the scales fell from his eyes.
The mystery was cleared up and the terrible
reality before him. He was living among for
gers! He remembered many instances which
he had forgotten. By giving him a commis
sion to pay the Tartars a large sum in forged
notes, his master wanted to lead him into crime
and make an accomplice of him, and, in the
event of a discovery, throAv upon him the blame
and punishment. He shuddered at the thought,
as a man walking along blindly suddenly per
ceives under his feet an abyss. One step more,
and all was lost !
The events that followed can be well imag
ined. While all the inhabitants were still
asleep, M  returned to the stable and hastily
put the box back into its concealment, and
awaited impatiently his master's return.
Gubanoff came back in a few days in excel
lent spirits ; evidently the operation of circu
lating the false notes had succeeded. M  ,
seeing that his master was so well-disposed,
explained to him that such very hard work,
joined to sleeping out of doors, had an injuri
ous effect upon his health, and was the reason
that, much against his will, he felt himself
obliged to look out for another situation.

SIBERIAN PEDLARS. 241
At first Gubanoff tried to dissuade him ; but
finding his resolution immovable, and warned
by a faint sign from the old man not to press
the matter for fear of exciting suspicion, he
agreed. 'My friend,' he said, gravely, 'you have
served me faithfully for six months. To prove
to you that even in Siberia we know how to
value honesty, I bid you farewell, not merely
in words, but with a gratuity. Here is money
which will cover all your expenses until you
find a new situation.'
So saying, the magnanimous master gave his
assistant three roubles silver.
Most of my readers will imagine that after
having read thus far they can guess the end.
That the three rouble note Avas forged, thatM —
took it to the nearest government office, and
that the pedlar was handcuffed ; in a word, that
virtue triumphed and crime suffered a just pun
ishment. Such should have been the end ; but this is no
tale but a real incident, and then the criminal
often goes unpunished. Gubanoff was anxious
to criminate his assistant, when he hoped
through him to screen himself. But, when he
VOL. II. B

242 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
found it impossible to mix him up in the affair,
he was careful and gave him a real government
bank-note. It was in truth a miserable recom
pense for six months' hard work and discomfort,
but does a man miraculously saved from danger
count the lost advantages? M — , happy at hav
ing escaped an imminent peril, went elsewhere
to seek his living, and Arkadi Saicz Gubanoff
lived on extending gradually his operations and
accumulating more and more capital.

243

CHAPTER XI.
THE PEASANT WOMAN*S SECRET.
TEAR the steppes on the Mongolian frontier,
at the foot of the Sayan mountains, lies
a large village inhabited by peasants who have
voluntarily removed there from the Viatka and
Perin provinces. I do not mention the name of
the village, as some of the people whom I am
about to describe are still living, and I can only
say that even amid the picturesque Swiss Alps
or beautiful Permean valleys it would be diffi
cult to find a more lovely spot.
It must be remembered that in this southern
most part of Siberia, answering in latitude to
that of Warsaw, Nature is niggardly of her
treasures, and gives but three summer months,
burying the rest of the year in a thick coating
of ice and snow. But this brief summer shines
r2

244 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
out with such a blaze of beauty and organic life
that man looking at the bright blue sky, and
breathing the perfume of the flowers, forgets
how circumscribed is the time of their enjoy
ment. Living in this village, I naturally wished dur
ing summer to make up for the forced confine
ment of winter in one small stuffy room.
Every day, therefore, as soon as the sun rose,
slinging my gun and tin canister over my
shoulders, 1 started out to shoot and herbalise.
The village was so situated that the narrow
path leading to the farmers' fields crossed it
from end to end. Of necessity, therefore, both
in coming and going I had to pass the same
way on my shooting and botanical excursions.
At the end of the village stood a small cottage
surrounded by a minute garden ; this little place
though poor had a cheerful appearance, and the
garden bore signs of a tender care that was
pleasing to the eye. Beside the neat rows of
cabbages, carrots, and other vegetables, blew
poppies, stocks, etc., and in the centre of all
was a rustic seat shaded by willows and bird
cherries. In this village, where nearly all the population
was composed of strangers, the people as a rule

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 245
took little pride in their dwellings, as, although
born Siberians like to beautify the exterior of
their houses, the new-comers, especially those
from Viatka and Perin, show little care in this
respect. However, the children of the first emi
grants invariably adopt local habits, and take
special care in keeping their houses and gardens
neat. Thus this neat little cottage impressed
one agreeably in favour of its inhabitants.
Coming home from my rambles, I never
passed without a look of admiration at this
peaceful, happy dwelling. In front of the cot
tage sat a woman spinning, and beside her a
boy of about eleven was generally engaged in
some heavy manual labour, such as chopping
wood, carrying water, etc.
The woman was no longer young. She in
variably welcomed me with the received Sibe
rian formula, ' Putiem Dorozku,' (on the roadj,
and I answered by the stereotyped phrase, ' I
warn potojze/ (and for you on the same), and
thus our conversation began and ended. So
passed the summer months. The heat then be
came so intense that to continue my daily
walks I was forced to take them at dawn or in
the evening, and spend the intervening hours in
my little room. Having thus doubled my re-

246 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
turns, I was forced to pass the little house still
oftener. The woman and boy were always busy over
some household work, weeding the garden,
watering the flowers, mending nets, minding
the cattle, etc., but they never went into the
fields as the other villagers did, or received any
neighbours. Whoever has thought of what life is in a
small village lost amid endless steppes, without
means of communication with the outer world,
will understand how the smallest incident Avill
interest the stagnant mind. The cleanliness
of the dwelling, the quiet occupations of mother
and son, so different from the noisy habits of
the rest of the inhabitants, and the instincts
of an inquiring mind, suggested that behind
these humble walls was concealed a secret,
the unravelling' of Avhich would help to reveal
the dark side and the faults of our social organ
ization. For it is not in the vortex of town
life that the secret parts of the human character
can best be seen; but sometimes in a small,
forgotten corner of the universe the key is
found to questions that concern the welfare
and happiness of thousands.
The sorrow stamped upon the woman's face

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 247
convinced me more and more that some cruel
fact or painful reminiscence poisoned her life.
Different from all other Siberian peasant women
in eager talk and readiness to make acquaint
ance, this woman never varied in her conven
tional greeting, and never tried to enter into
conversation. Industrious, dignified in all her
movements, and always busy in the affairs con
cerning her small household, she appeard to
shun her neighbours and seek solitude. The
only emotion which roused her from her apathy
was her boundless love for her son.
Small hillocks, a spur from the Sayan moun
tains, rose quite near the village, and, hidden
by the inequalities of the ground when return
ing from my walks, I had often seen her hold
ing her boy in her arms, and weeping bitterly.
I could not hear the words, but the actions
conveyed the warmest expressions of maternal
affection. One thing I could not understand.
There was a large school in the village, to
which almost all the inhabitants sent their
children, but this mother, who seemed to love
her son so intensely, never thought of giving
him even this elementary education. She did
not seem poor ; her fat cows grazed in the
neighbouring field, and the herd of sheep which

248 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
the boy brought home every evening showed
comparative wealth ; besides, the charge for
village schooling is very small, and a great
many poorer peasants sent their children. Why
did she not follow their example ?
Sometimes, when passing the cottage, I tried
to begin a longer conversation, but all my en
deavours failed. She answered my questions
Avith the respect the villagers there always
showed to people older than themselves, but
very briefly, showing she evidently was anxi
ous not to improve the acquaintance. I only
discovered that, being a widow, and therefore
not employed in tilling the ground, she made
her living by having a ' Postoyanny Dwor,'
which means a room or two hired by the
authorities for the use of government officials
when passing through the village. The person
providing these rooms is bound to supply all
necessaries, free of charge, to the guests, as
she is paid by the year; but the officials are
generally most liberal, therefore the more traffic
the more gain the landlady counts upon.
As I have before mentioned, no thoroughfare
crossed the village, so scarcely three times a
year were her rooms occupied. Her income,
therefore, chiefly came from the sum paid her

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 249
by the village authorities ; but this sum,
though small, amply satisfied her modest re
quirements. These details I gathered from the
villagers, as she carefully avoided all personal
questions. Once, when seeing the children going home
from school, I asked her why, when she was
so attached to her son, she employed him in
working in the garden or house, instead of
making him learn to read and write. She
began crying, and, taking hold of my hand,
sobbed out,
'For goodness sake, never remind me of
that ! At the very name of school, I feel as
if my heart was bursting.'
Another month Avent by. The Siberian sum
mer was draAving to a close. The luxuriant
vegetation had reached its climax. The fading
"flowers, yellowing leaves, and bare branches
heralded the approach of the sad and death
like winter. Nearly all the population were in
the fields busy collecting the year's crops, and
had, for the time, forgotten the usual noisy
songs and rowdy gatherings. The village
looked solemn and quiet, and only in the
widoAv's house did things remain unchanged.
Every time I passed I saAv the mother and

250 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
son occupied in the same way, which they
followed almost mechanically.
I had stopped on the summit of a small
hill one evening to admire the vieAV, which,
though circumscribed, was very lovely, lit-up
by the last rays of the setting sun, when my
dreams were dispelled by the noise of many
voices. At the foot of the hill was a troop
of children returning from the fields and in
eager conversation. They were boys of differ
ent ages ; the eldest might be fourteen years
old. The object of their conversation was the
widow's son taking the cow home.
' Look,' cried a red-haired boy, who seemed
to take the lead, ' look, there goes silly Igorko.'
The boy answered not, but went on quietly.
'Stupid is no word, why, he cannot even
speak,' said another.
' Where can he get Avisdom when he learns
nothing ?' added a third.
' Listen, you fool,' said the red-haired one
again, ' stop and answer when you are spoken
to.' ' I did not speak to you, let me alone,' an-
SAvered the child.
' What next ? listen to.his impertinence ! We
are talking to you, do you hear ?'

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 251
' We want to find out what you know.'
' Do you even know your letters V
' How is he to know them, when he does not
go to school.'
The boys surrounded poor Igorko, who look
ed around in a frightened manner as if seeking a
way of escape.
' Do you know Avhat ?' cried the red-haired
boy, Avith a malicious smile ; ' we will examine
him the way our master does, and if he answers
badly his skin will suffer.'
' That's right,' shouted the others.
' Let me go home,' begged the frightened
child. 'Mamma will be so anxious.'
' She ought to be grateful to us for trying
to improve such a dunce.'
' There, spell buka.'
The unfortunate creature began to sob.
' You won't answer, cry baby. Where is the
ruler?' cried the persecutor.
' Here it is, professor,' answered anotherr
taking up the joke and presenting a strong
switch. ' Put out your hand, you fool.'
Loud sobbing was the only answer.
' He won't bear his punishment. Then, boys,.
stretch him out.'

252 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth
than the Avhole party fell upon the victim, threw
him down, and began beating unmercifully.
There is no crueller being than a child, especial
ly among the lower classes, when encouraged
by bad examples. It cannot understand the
harm it is doing, and blindly follows a momen
tary impulse, which often leads to most lament
able results.
Such was the present case. In spite of
heartrending cries, a rain of kicks and blows
came upon the head and shoulders of the vic
tim, and, before I could hurry down, the widow's
son lay insensible upon the ground. At the
sight of me the small persecutors ran away.
I knelt beside the fainting boy. A few
bruises were visible upon his face. The child
was naturally ugly, and looked more so after
the catastrophe that had befallen him. My
sympathy was all the more roused by the phy
sical misfortunes of the poor creature.
Having ascertained that pain and terror, and
not any serious injury, was the cause of his
fainting, I brought some water from the stream,
and, having wetted his head, saw him gradually
return to life. The boy began to cry afresh.
' It is not the first time they have beaten me,'

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 253
he said, 'and always because I do not know
anything and don't go to school. I should like
to learn. I often beg my mother to let me, but
she Avon't hear of it.'"
Having quieted the boy the best way I could,
I took him by the hand and led him home. The
widow, at the sight of her boy, lost her usual
self-control, and with a great cry snatched him
up in her arms. When I related to her all
the details of the assault, she fired up and
threatened revenge, law, punishment, till at last
she dropped her hands helplessly by her side,.
and sat quiet, faintly whispering,
' Oh, how unhappy am I.'
'Neither anger nor despair will help you,' I
said. ' The law will not listen to a complaint
against children, and to take revenge upon the
parents for the misbehaviour of their boys
would be unsafe and unjust. You are one
against many ! I advise you to remove the
cause of this assault, and send Igorko to school
as other parents do.'
The woman looked at me horror-struck.
'Never, you don't know what you are
saying.' ' I say what I think would be best ; the child
is anxious to learn.'

254 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
'¦ Yes, mother,' chimed in the boy, ' do send
me to school.'
' Madman ! he wants his ruin. Do you know
what school is ?'
'Yes, I do, it is where the teacher shows how^
to read, count, write. Mother, I will try to
learn well, and then the others will not call
me dunce, and beat me as they do now.'
' Don't you see the boy is right ?' I said.
She fell into deep thought ; then shaking her
head, as if to chase away a painful thought, she
cried in despair,
' No, never ; one is enough.'
After a few moments she became calmer. I
oould see that she wished to say something,
but could not make up her mind to speak.
At last, overcoming a visible repugnance, she
said :
' You have always been kind and civil to me,
and to-day, by taking my poor boy's part, have
saved him from a severe flogging, and perhaps
worse injury. I am heartily grateful to you for
it, and to prove to you my gratitude I will tell
you Avhy I will not send my child to school. It
is the secret of my life, known only to God and
myself, and which no one except you will ever
know. Listen. Besides Igorka, I had another

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 255
son a few years older, named Nicholas. Be
coming a widow early in life, I sought my com
fort in the affection of these children. The
boys were very unlike. Nicholas was merry,
Avarm-hearted, open, but his mind was slow in
developing itself: he talked much, laughed still
more, but could not be made to remember the
simplest things. Igorko, on the contrary, sel
dom spoke, but, when he did, you would have
thought what he said came from a book. Their
exterior also was unlike ; the elder was hand
some — so handsome that, when I took him to
church of a Sunday, the people used to stop to
look at him. The second was puny and stumpy,
and, with his short nose and Avide mouth, look
ed like a little bear. The good looks of the
one and the ugliness of the other Avere the
cause that I did not divide my love equally be
tween them. Nicholas had all the caresses and
kind words, Igorko all the scoldings, often un
deserved. I was- unjust, and God has severely punish
ed me. I looked to a brilliant future for
my eldest ; it seemed impossible that such a
handsome fellow should follow the plough and
herd the cattle. I wished to see him something
better than a common labourer tilling the soil.

256 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
Such occupation would be good enough for
clumsy Igorko. As soon as Nicholas was old
enough, I placed him in the village school,
pending a higher education. About the younger
one I did not think ; first, he was too young,
and I argued that for such as he an elementary
education would be ample. But it always
happens in this world that man proposes and
God disposes. I longed to see my boy one day
in the uniform of a government official, and I
have seen him in his coffin, and the younger
one, whose abilities might have carved out a
career, has remained a dunce, a victim to the
malice of bad boys.'
Saying this, the poor woman could not
restrain her tears. I remained silent, respecting
her grief. She became calmer presently, and
thus continued :
' My favourite Avent daily to school ; but he
was a bad scholar. Not that he was lazy, but
because his ideas developed slowly. He would
spend whole nights over his book, and, weep
ing, repeat his lessons over and over again. It
was not his fault that he could not learn it. I
noticed also that his character was changing.
He became quiet, silent, and secret. In olden
days he had shared all his thoughts with his

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 257
mother; but, from the time he began his school
ing, he not only gave that up, but, when asked
the cause of his gloom, he either gave some
frivolous answer or refused to speak. Frightened
at this, I sought the schoolmaster. You know
the man, and therefore you know how proud
and unapproachable he is. He received me
haughtily, and answered my questions about
Nicholas impatiently.
' " Well, what of that ? Of course the boy
prefers sitting at home doing nothing to
stewing over a book. All new pupils are the
same; but in time they get used to school
discipline. Your son is as great a donkey as
ever breathed, but I can make men even out of
such material."
' Though these words did not quiet my mind,
I was forced to be content with them. At that
time I did not know the mysteries of village
schools. I was far from suspecting what took
place in the spacious rooms designed for
children's education. I did not know that the
fear which a bard master can create in his pupils'
minds overpowers the strongest natures,
changes frankness into cunning, and closes the
lips accustomed to the tenderest confidences. A
few more weeks went by. The boy slowly
VOL. II. S

258 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
and at last changed completely, not only as to
his character, but in his exterior as well. Rosy
and strong once, he became pale and thin, his
eyes sunk — in a word, he looked the shadow of
his former self. I consulted all the old women
in the place, and they assured me that it
came from his rapid growth, and advised
me to give him nourishing diet. But he would
not eat. Sad and silent, with eyes bent down,
he never complained ; but, when the time drew
near for school, he would tremble as in an ague
fit. I noticed that several times his ears were
quife violet from the* blood rushing violently
into them .... and I, the mother, did not
guess the tortures he Avas enduring, and try to
stop them in time.
' One autumn evening two years ago, my son
came home from school later than usual; he
complained of headache. I put him to bed, and
in a few hours fever set-in. The poor child
threw himself about in his ravings, folded his
hands as if in prayer, and called out, "Ivan —
Ivan Andrezowitz, have pity on me!" Not
understanding these words, and imagining them
the ravings of fever, I tried to soothe him. But
he did not see me, did not hear me, only
repeated in a terrified voice, " Ivan, Ivan, have

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 259
pity! Don't strike so hard! You will kill
me!" * The sad truth only then appeared before
my eyes in all its deformity. I understood it
all. Sooner than I can relate, I tore off the
bandages, soaked in vinegar, I had laid on his
head, and saw — that the skull Avas fractured !
After an hour of extreme agony, during which
the unfortunate child writhed in pain, filling
the air with his screams, the end came. My
beloved Nicholas died without for a moment
recovering consciousness.
' I stood for a long time over his bed plunged
in the deepest despair. I did not know where
I was or what had happened to me ; I did not
realise the blow that had fallen. At last I
looked at the face of the dead child, and all
became clear. I saw the flogging he must
daily have endured, I heard his cries, under
stood his pain, and the terror a severe school
master could create in a frightened child, under
the influence of which the poor thing dared not
complain to anyone, hiding his torture even
from his mother. And suddenly a wild mad
ness seized upon me ; half-dressed, with my
hair flying, I ran to the village magistrate, and,
trembling with indignation, I related to him
s2

260 " SIBERIAN PICTURES.
the atrocious conduct of the schoolmaster,
begging that my son's murderer might be
punished. ' I was looked upon as having momentarily
lost my senses through tbe heavy bereavement
that 1 had undergone. My neighbours tried to
soothe me, pitied me, and finally, at my request,
the accused was ordered to vindicate himself.
The wretch played his part admirably. He
sympathized with me even more than the
others, maintaining that a severe mental shock
often produces a derangement of the brain, and
finally he himself begged the village magistrate
to examine his pupils, and find out from them
how they were treated. These children, know
ing what awaited them had they dared to speak
the truth, said that their master's behaviour
was always gentle and just, and that, though
forced at times to punish, his chastisement did
not exceed what a father would administer.
Further investigations were even more adverse
to me. The child's fractured skull was no
proof; he might have fallen down accidentally,
and my own want of caution might have caused
his death. The pupils who swore to the mas
ter's good behaviour Avere the only witnesses ;
the poor victim's lips were closed for ever.

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 261
The schoolmaster, after the charge I brought
against him, did all in his power to have me
shut up in a lunatic asylum.
' " The mania of the unfortunate woman," he
used to say, " who imagines that she sees in
me her child's murderer, may sooner or later be
the cause of some misfortune ; whereas the hos
pital treatment might bring her back to her
normal state of health."
' This man had good connections and influ
ence, and for a time I feared that I too might
become his victim ; but fortunately some friends
of my husband's, who belonged to the village
administration, opposed this scheme. They did
not deny that my mind might be impaired —
unfortunately that fact was palpable — but they
showed that, after the first outburst caused by
the death of my beloved child, my madness had
become a settled melancholy, a love of quiet
ness and solitude which was not dangerous.
' The administration took me under their
care, and gave me the "Postoyanny Dwor,"
the care of which, together with that of my
garden, with relaxation from agricultural la
bour, and freedom from' worries and vexations,
would in time, the doctor thought, have a salu
tary effect upon my mind. But these good

262 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
people, though they respect my sorrow, are at
the same time afraid of me. In an emergency
any one of them would be ready and willing to
.help me ; but not one will cross my threshold,
within which there lives, according to their
ideas, a woman worthy of pity and respect, but
who might at any moment become dangerous.
I live here alone with my last child, and he, my
poor Igorko, is the only thing that links me
with the world. Though apparently free, I
feel a secret surveillance, and I know that my
actions are watched. The fear that a word or
a gesture of mine might be misconstrued, and
I might be locked up in an asylum, makes me
silent and uncomrnunicati\'pe. After the lapse
of two years, you are the first to whom I have
revealed my secret. Having discovered it, you
will not be astonished that in spite of my great
love for my son, in spite of the wish he has to
learn, I will not send him to our village school
and the tender mercies of Ivan Andrezowitz.'
A few days after this, I was passing the
eArening with the family of the village clerk.
All the local authorities, civil and clerical, as
well as the provincial doctor, who was en route,
were assembled there. Ivan was there. His

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 263
pale face and quiet attitude made one think he
was imbued with the solemnity of his duties
rather than au executioner torturing the poor
children given into his charge. This man had
the power of changing his physiognomy accord
ing to circumstances.
The conversation soon took an interesting
turn. The subject was a story of the doctor's
relative to a madman who was in his charge,
and who, after the death of a beloved child, fell
into a queer monomania. He imagined that
his daughter, who had died from croup, had
been strangled by her own mother. Nothing
could convince him, in spite of the clearest
proofs shown him by the ablest doctors of the

' A similar case happened here a few years
ago,' said the clerk. 'A poor widow, known
and respected by all for her honesty and
good conduct, lost a son through a fall and
a severe cut in the head. From that moment
the unfortunate mother, stricken by the unex
pected blow, has imagined that the child had
been murdered.'
'And by me,' added the pedagogue. 'You
can imagine in what a disagreeable situation I
found myself— threatened not only as to my

264 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
life, but in a thing much more precious to an
honest man, my good name earned by thirty
years of hard work. I had not a moment's
peace. A suspicion thrown out by a mad
woman might be believed by others.'
' But everyone,' said the clerk, ' respects
you still more since the sad business, seeing
how you discharge your arduous duties.'
'The severity of the ordeal you have
passed,' said another, 'shows us all your
worth. A stone crumbles in the fire, but a
diamond will shine with a brighter light.'
After these words, all the company rose and
shook hands with the schoolmaster as a mark
of their respect. Ivan's pale face was radiant,
and a tear of joy ran down his withered check.
' I have not only heard of this occurrence,'
said the doctor, ' but, passing here a year ago,
I saw the poor woman. Her state is all the
more worthy of commiseration, as her cure is
almost hopeless. A complete aberration of
mind is sometimes cured, if the patient is
carefully and tenderly treated, as is now gen
erally the case. But monomania which does
not preclude lucid thought, and even allows
the patient to reason, is all the mor^ difficult to
eradicate as the fixed idea which sways it has,

THE PEASANT WOMAN'S SECRET. 265
so to say, grown into the patient's very being.
A man labouring under a monomania is quite
rational in his speech, life, etc., and remains so
until the disturbed chord is touched, and then
all is disharmony. Pignel ahd Locke niain-
tain  '
And the worthy doctor, having started a
favourite topic, went on bringing to bear vari
ous citations, and the clerk's guests listened all
the more intently because they did not under
stand a word he Avas saying. I, profiting by
the general attention being taken up, left the
house unperceived, pondering upon the drama
I had so unexpectedly come across.
The widow's narrative was so simple, so
straightforward, so full of Christian resignation
and feeling, that it seemed impossible for it to
have been tbe outcome of an unhinged imagi
nation. On the other hand, numerous instances
of people less susceptible than myself being
deceived by madmen came to my mind. Going
over all the details of my conversation with the
peasant woman, I could not detect a gesture, a
look which would point to a wandering mind ;
and yet again, the decided opinion of medical
men could not be lightly set aside.
Unable t6 arrive at any conclusion, I thought

266 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
of the chief personage in the story, Ivan An-
drezowitz, with his parchment face, forbidding
aspect, shifting look, and evil smile. He ap
peared to me most antipathetic. It seemed
impossible that such a face could belong to au
honest man, but still the exterior often deceives
us, and an ugly, repulsive body will hide a
lofty, noble soul. Then the general respect he
enjoyed, and the tear I saw in his eye ! What,
after all, can the opinion of short-sighted people
be Avorth ? And the tear ? Judas shed a tear
when he sold the Saviour.
For two hours I fought with conflicting
thoughts, two opposite conclusions strove for
mastery within me, but not a ray of truth ap
peared to lighten the darkness of this frightful
story. The peasant's mystery will ever remain
an unsolved riddle.

267

CHAPTER XII.
THE HISTORY OF THE VILLAGE CLERK.
IT happened in the year 186 — . I was then
Uving in the province of Yeniseisk, in a
village called Balachta. Balachta was one of
those settlements in which about one-fourth
part of the population is concentrated. Such
places are usually built on the banks of the
more important rivers, and on account of their
situation, and the fertility of the soil, are
chosen by the peasants of European Russia,
who voluntarily come to settle in them, as
well as by those banished to Siberia by the
government. Under such circumstances, the
villages rapidly increase, but, in spite of their
size and large population, they always retain
the designation of villages. The entire ab
sence of communication with the outer world,.

268 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
and the extreme distance from other inhabited
places, as well as the peculiar character of
their social life, prevent the merchants from
visiting these settlements, and, without trade,
a village cannot grow into a town.
Balachta, therefore, in spite of its population
numbering several thousands, in spite even of
its yearly fair, which provides the inhabitants
with all the requirements of their daily life,
remained a village, retaining all the char
acteristics of a Siberian agricultural settle
ment. From this may easily be understood
the difficulty I experienced in finding a suitable
circle of acquaintances. In addition to the
peasants, whose occupations were alternately
tilling the soil and drinking, there were
three families which formed a sort of local
aristocracy, and especially that of the former
. parish clerk. This man I found most congenial,
and I frequently visited his house.
Do not for a moment imagine, dear reader,
that I had found in Alexis Ewdokimowicz
Czuchomoff and in Maria Andrejewna, his wife,
anything in any respect reminding me of our
old Europe. These people were common and
vulgar, but honest and true-hearted withal;
and these virtues, rarely met with even in

THE VILLAGE CLERK. 269
people of higher standing in society, made me
like and respect them sincerely.-
It happened that I wTas spending a winter
evening with them. We were all three sitting
in front of the fire. The night was dark, and
the wind drove the snow outside into huge
heaps. The room was only partially illumin
ated by the wood fire, whilst its corners were
in darkness ; in fact, it was one of those mo
ments when everything seems to invite the
exchange of thoughts, confidential intercourse,
or long-buried reminiscences.
My host, after having as usual related all
the daily grievances of his post — how the peas
ants quarrelled; how the Soltys was a fool;
and the officials grasping — relapsed into silence.
The only audible sounds were the crackling of
the faggots on the hearth, and the whistling
of the wind without, when I asked him to relate
the story of his life.
It was a simple story, uneventful, as is the
life of the inhabitants of the Siberian deserts.
No soul-stirring adventures or even very ex
alted sentiment had any part in it; but its
very simplicity pleased me, who loved to study
the habits and customs of all those with whom
I was brought in contact. ,

270 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
Czuchomoff was the son of a local agricul
turist. His father, a wealthy farmer, sent his
son to a school iu the provincial town, in
¦spite of the sarcasms of his neighbours, who
did not relish the idea of one of their class
departing from the usual routine. We shall
see what induced him to take this step. Al
most everyone nourishes in his inmost soul
a secret thought, an idea which furnishes the
motive power of all his actions, the goal to
wards which all his efforts tend. A farmer,
wedded to agriculture, wishes to bring his land
to the highest pitch of perfection ; a merchant
seeks the development of his trade; a poet
dreams of fame which shall make his name
immortal; the peasant alone, occupied all day
long in manual labour, exists from day to day,
and dreams only of bringing up his son to
whom he will resign his toil, and enjoy repose
for the remainder of his days.
It sometimes happens, hoAvever, and more
especially amongst the wealthier peasants, who,
not being too much weighed down by work,
can afford to give play to the imagination, that
their minds soar beyond the marked-out groove.
Old Czuchomoff was one of these exceptions.
He was oppressed by a thought which gave

THE VILLAGE CLERK. 271
him no rest, one dream that governed all his
actions ; and this idea had, as it were, become
incorporated in his very existence. This dream
was to see his son a deacon ; and who knows ?
perhaps even a priest in his own parish.
That the full importance he attached to this
choice of a profession for his son may be under
stood, I should mention that one of the old
man's ancestors was once employed in waiting
upon the priest and church. In Russia, such
clerical service goes down from father to son ;
the son of a priest, having passed through all
the lower grades and having married the daugh
ter of a priest, generally ends by becoming one
himself; and, if untoward circumstances oblige
him to leave the profession in which he was
born, in nine cases out of ten his sons or grand
sons, remembering their former caste, endeavour
to return to it. This was the reason why old
Czuchomoff put his son to school at Aczinsk in
spite of his neighbours' ironical remarks. When
Alexis had completed his secular and theological
studies and returned home, his father formally
announced that he had chosen as a wife for him
the daughter of the local deacon, and that this
alliance would lead him to the dignity his father
had so long coveted for him.

272 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
These plans were acquiesced in by both the
young lady and her father ; the deacon was poor,
his daughter old, ugly, and of rather lax virtue.
The very mention of marriage with the son of
such a wealthy peasant was well received by
him ; and his daughter, whom no one wished to
marry, was of course delighted at the prospect
of a young, handsome, and rich husband. It
was different with the young man. The thought
of filling the important post of parish priest, the
handsome costume, and solemn liturgy pleased
his young imagination of eighteen years; but,
on the other hand, an alliance with a woman,
old, ugly, and immoral, had no attraction for
him. Without a moment's hesitation, he refused to
obey his father ; but the old man possessed an
argument to back his paternal influence before
which all discussion and opposition had to give
way. This argument was a thick, heavy stick.
Sorely pressed by this very forcible argument,
young Alexis submitted with tears to his father's
wishes, and active preparations were commenced
to hurry on the wedding. But what, after all, is
human will, even the will of such strong-minded
people as old Czuchomoff, or the ardent wishes
of such a fascinating young woman as the dea-

THE VILLAGE CLERK. 273
con's daughter, Avhen fate is against them ? In
spite then of all their efforts, destiny decreed
that Alexis should never be a priest, and that
the old-maid should remain to mourn her
spinsterhood. A tribe of gipsies made their appearance at
Balachta. There was nothing unusual in that,
gipsies are the same iu Siberia as elsewhere;
they lead a lazy, idle life, and, disliking steady
occupations, tramp from village to village, tell
ing fortunes, selling stolen horses, in fact swind
ling the superstitious inhabitants in every possi
ble way ; but to this tribe belonged a young
gipsy girl of wondrous beauty. Though an
orphan, she had a certain superiority over her
companions, from the fact that she contributed
the larger share of profits to their slender purse.
Her work was not hard, and consisted only in
playing the guitar, singing, and dancing ; but
her singing, dancing, and playing were things
worthy of being seen and heard. Whenever she
appeared in the market-square, clad in her mus
lin dress trimmed with spangles and a garland
on her head, a murmur of approval rose from
the assembled spectators ; but, when she com
menced her fiery, passionate, and wonderfully
graceful dance, the acclamations of the public
VOL. II. T

274 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
were boundless. The heavy, uncouth men, un
accustomed to the fairy scenes acted on the
stage, regarded her as an apparition from
another world, such as hitherto they had never
dared to imagine ; the public-houses, the usual
resort, were deserted ; everyone hurried to the
market-square to feast their eyes on the en
chantress, - and the copecks fell in showers at
her feet.
The effect on young Alexis cannot be described.
It was not love, but a frenzy, a passion that
nothing could quell ; he reflected not, dreamt
not, thought not ; he only gave himself up heart
and soul to that neAV, and to him unknown, sensa
tion. To approach her and declare his sentiments
was the work of a moment. She listened pa
tiently and calmly ; then she told him she con
sented to descend from the position she had
won by her talent and beauty, and become the
wife of a peasant, but he must first gain his
father's permission.
Here was an insurmountable difficulty ; how
r©omld he broach such a demand to one who
¦enforced his arguments with such energetic
aneasures? Alexis did not even care to try ;
Hike lovers in general, he left all to fate, and
spent hours, nay, even days, in admiring the

THE VILLAGE CLERK. 275
dance and listening to the songs of the gitana.
Plunged in these enchanting dreams, he
knew not that there was one who watched his
every movement. When the lovely gipsy
danced or sang, receiving the homage of her
numerous admirers, and young Czuchomoff,
dazed by her beauty, fancied himself in the
seventh heaven, then at one of the windows of
her father's house the ugly, pitted face of the
deacon's daughter kept watch. Jealousy is
sharp-sighted, and the wounded vanity of an
ugly woman is implacable. Alexis' betrothed
ran to her would-be father-in-law, crying and
lamenting, and told him all.
The old man did not like either a joke or a
long discussion. He first made use of his most
powerful argument, and then locked his son up
in a barn on bread-and-water, swearing that he
should only leave it for the altar ; finally he
used his influence so effectually that the band
of gipsies was driven from the village.
Were I writing a novel, I might fill pages
with the sorrows and broodings of the young
lover ; but, as this is merely a slight Siberian
sketch taken from life, I must curb my imagina
tion and only say that, after two or three days,
Alexis dug his way out of his prison, and
T 2

276 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
ran away from his father's arguments and the
squinting eyes of his betrothed — of course
directing his steps towards the slowly-receding
band of gipsies.
He found his goddess in front of a large
cauldron, occupied in the prosaic work of cook
ing bacon and cabbage. Not being one of your
aesthetic sonls, in whom such a sight would
produce a reaction, he told her before them all
that he loved her, that he would never leave
her, and wished to become her husband.
'And your father?' asked she.
' I am not afraid of him,' answered the
lover. This determination pleased the young gitana.
What woman can remain untouched at the
sight of a youth sacrificing all for her sake ?
The chief of the band had also his views ; the
gipsies were everywhere ill-treated, they were
never allowed to remain anywhere long, and this
outweighed the gain brought iu by the young
girl. Czuchomoff was learned, he had passed
four classes, he might become a man of impor
tance, and so help his Avife's old associates ; the
father was certainly opposed to the [match just
now, but he Avould surely relent sooner or
later. After an hour's discussion they agreed,

THE VILLAGE CLERK. 277
the band moved on, and Alexis married the
young gipsy in the first church they came to.
The hopes of the elder gipsy were not realis
ed after all. Old Czuchomoff would never see
his son again, and, dying, bequeathed his fortune
to some distant relative. Alexis passed many
years in great poverty, trying successively all
sorts of small and badly-paid places. But at
last his hard work, honest character, and faith
ful discharge of his duties made an impression
on his felloAv-citizens, and they chose him as
clerk in Balachta. He assisted his wife's
friends as much as he could, either in allowing
them to remain longer in the district committed
to his charge, or in defending them from the
injustice of government employes ; but his
power was limited, and elsewhere the gipsies
were ill-treated as much as ever, though fre
quently they richly deserved it.
As to the gitana, contrary to all expectations,
all predictions of old Czuchomoff, she turned
out an excellent wife, and would no doubt
have proved an equally good mother had God
given her any children ; but, in this, heaven had
not blessed the marriage made against the
father's will. In spite of thousands of candles
burned before sacred images, in spite of the

278 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
many prayers which Alexis had offered up in
many churches, they did not obtain that happi
ness which is the aim of every marriage. Mrs.
Czuchomoff, or Mary Andreievna, as she was
popularly called, changed completely. Bidding
farewell to her old habits, she adopted the ways
of her new station ; instead of the transitory
triumphs of old, she gave her attention to cul
inary matters and household management -r
instead of the old migratory life, she spent
hours on the palata,* and became so devoted
to the Turkish bath that, from the abuse of it,
she became afflicted with chronic rheumatic gout.
Twenty-eight years had elapsed since Alexis'
marriage when I made the acquaintance of his
wife. She Avas then a little, bent, sickly
old woman, in whom no one would now re
cognize • the gipsy whose graceful dance
delighted the spectators. Listening to her
hoarse voice and frequent cough, one could
hardly imagine that she had once been the siren
whose thrilling notes drew forth so much admir
ation. Her black and still piercing eyes alone
remained to remind one of her extraction.
* Palata is an inclined plane of boards near the
ceiling of Siberian cottages, and is used as a resting place.
See vol. i, page 199.

279

CHAPTER XIII.
A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES.
IN July, 186 — , I had to travel as far as the
Chinese frontier on business connected with
a merchant in whose employ I was. I took an
iuterpreter with me who understood Tartar,
Chinese, and Mongolian, and being well supplied
Avith provisions I started across the steppes.
Tartar settlements are situated south of the
town of Minusinsk (province of Yeniseisk) all
along the banks of the river Yenesei. These
settlements are about twenty or thirty miles
apart, and beyond them lie the endless forests,
then the dwellings of the Sayans, Mongolians,
Chinese, and other tribes to whom 1 was taking
European wares in exchange for fur.
Except for the gigantic Yenisei, the road lead
ing from settlement to settlement was no way re-

280 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
markable ; the vegetation was luxuriant on the
steppes, and herds of wild horses pursued by
Tartars were occasionally met. In the Tartar
' yourts ' we always were welcomed with the
hearty hospitality for which all eastern coun
tries are famous. In reality, this hospitality
was of the most primitive kind ; a glass of mare's
milk and a slice of mutton or horseflesh was
all a traveller could expect, but this simple fare
is always so heartily and disinterestedly offered
that one is ready to allow the goodwill of the
giver to make amends for the shortcomings of
the cookery.
A Tartar yourt is constructed of a sugar-
cone shape ; the entrance is so low that one must
stoop to enter, and a hole in the roof supplies
the place of a chimney. The dwelling is made
of the bark of trees and the skins of animals.
Inside are a few mats and some cooking uten
sils. A certain number of these huts form a
settlement. The Tartars usually live poorly,
though as a rule they are not indigent. Many
a one, who owns a hundred horses and large
herds of sheep and cattle, besides pots of silver
roubles and gold half-Imperials, will live Avith
his family in a small, uncomfortable hut, full of
smoke and stuffiness, and feed upon half-raw

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 281
horseflesh, not from stinginess but from total
ignorance. There are exceptions however. In a settlement
not far distant from Minusinsk dwells a Tar
tar Croesus whose fortune in cattle, horses,
sheep, plate, and money amounts to millions of
roubles. His name is Kar-ki. I stopped at his
house, and were it not that Kar-ki's name is
well-known in the neighbourhood, and that
those who experienced his hospitality can bear
me Avitness, I Avould be silent, fearing I should
be suspected of exaggeration. It was almost a
picture from the Arabian nights.
Bis dwelling is composed of several yourts
joined together and lined with precious carpets,
real cashmere shawls hang across the doorways,
and all the vessels used are either of silver or
gold. The owner has some idea of civilization,
speaks Russian fluently, trades largely, has
heard of Europe and its customs, but his own
manner of life is purely Tartar. He will giye
his guests Havannah cigars and best French
wines, but he smokes Machorka and drinks Tar
tar arak (a drink prepared from mare's milk and
called ariash). The food, though handed in silver
dishes, is not better than that of the poorest
Tartars, and his wife and daughters are childreu

282 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
of the steppes in the fullest acceptation of
the term, though dressed in silks and velvets.
After a meal of tbe above description, and
several cups of tea out of the huge silver sam
ovar, we inspected our host's treasures which
he, like all those favoured by fortune, was eager
to display. Several separate huts are his ware
houses. His furs chiefly attracted my atten
tion. Such splendid sables and blue fox skins,
each of them at least of several hundred rou
bles value. After looking at his furs, our host
ordered his horses to be led by, and the pro
cession was closed by Tartar men and women
singing a chorus and accompanying themselves
upon whistles of their own manufacture.
Tartars as a rule cling to their language,
habits, and migratory life, and are very little,
if at all, influenced by western civilization.
Even Kar-ki, in spite of his riches and position,
had only superficially adopted a few Russian
Avays ; in reality he hardly differed from his
tribe. The one exception to the rule I found
in a Mr. K  , a Tartar by birth, who, having
started as a common workman at the mines,
became first an agent and then a small pro
prietor. Having come upon a good vein of
gold, he soon became a millionaire, gaining

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 283
wealth and assimilating European civilization
at the same time. He spends his summer at
Krasnydiarsk and winter in Paris, and travels
with an armed body-guard, a French cook, two
secretaries, and German footmen. His daughter
is thoroughly educated, and has a decided
talent for music. He is a pleasant man, and
very charitable towards the poor. Yet even
he, though for some years practising European
life, cannot separate himself completely from
his national habits. Whenever he arrives at
Minusinsk, he leaves his daughter in charge of
her governess, forsakes his house and servants,
and, accompanied by a faithful Tartar, spends
some time in the steppes, living in the yourts
of his countrymen, eating 'szalalyk' (foal),
joining in their games, and listening to their
songs. Verily, nature is stronger than a life
time's habits.
Leaving Kar-ki, we proceeded on our journey,
and turned more to the south. The further we
left Minusinsk, the fewer 'were the Tartars who
understood Russian, and the evidences of the
Shamanism (black faith), which had before
been strictly hidden, appeared more and more
openly as we left the abodes inhabited by
people of European descent.

284 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
All the primitive tribes of Northern Asia have
professed Shamanism for countless ages, but
Russia, having annexed Siberia, has endea
voured to supersede this pagan faith with
Christianity. Although Shamanism was toler
ated, Tartar and other tribes were christened ;
but, as it usually happens in such cases, the
conversion was superficial, and they in fact
profess the faith of their forefathers. Sham
(black), ni (faith), has been the religion since
prehistoric times not only of the Tartars,
Yakuts, Jakogirs, Buriatis, Cityns, Tunguz,
¦etc., but of nearly all the northern tribes in
Europe, namely, the Fins and Laplanders. It
was professed by the now lost tribes of the
Alofitzs. There seems to be a kind of affinity
between the Shamanism and later Buddism.
Brahminism was a kind of resurrection of
Buddism, and the latter seems to haAre been
founded upon the much older faith of Shaman
ism. The ancient Chinese religion, Tao-see,
existing before Confucius, appears to be no
thing else than the black faith still practised by
the northern Asiatic tribes, as the evidences of
it in Monticules, made up of earth and stone,
and dedicated to the friendly gods, can be seen
not only in China, but over the whole surface

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 285-
of Siberia. The central fount of this faith was
Samarkand, and from thence it spread west
ward, northward, and southward into China,.
and even to the remotest confines of Eastern
Asia, the Aleutian Islands.
The bloody rites of this faith, consisting of
human sacrifices, gradually softened under the
influence of the Yakuts, and now the only
sacrifices are of animals to the gods. Tartars
living near Minusinsk are very careful not to
disclose their true religion on account of the
law, and in many yourts I have seen the pic
tures of saints with lighted tapers before them,.
in others Bibles printed in Tartar language
placed in conspicuous places ; but, as we trav
elled further on, these signs of Christianity
became more and more rare, and on the fron
tiers of the steppes the observances of the
black faith were openly performed. The Sha
mans (Tartar -wizards) performed the cere
monies publicly, turning round and round on
one leg until they dropped, screaming frightfully
all the time. They distributed ' swastica '*
* Swastici is derived from the old Sanscrit word swasti
(blessing). These talismans are flat stones with hiero
glyphics engraved upon them. A Shaman offered me one,
assuring me that it would keep me safe from all evils while

286 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
(talismans possessing the power of guarding
their owners from evil spirits), buried the dead,
and blessed fire, earth, and wild horses all
publicly. As we drew southward from Minusinsk, the
Tartar dress visibly changed. In the first
visited settlements, the Tartars had bought
pieces of silk and staring calico of European
make, and had added these to their eastern
dress ; but this soon disappeared, and as we
advanced towards the Chinese frontier the
dress became of a more Mongolian type. Here
and there are seen the pointed, round-brimmed
hats, shaved heads, and shoes turned up at toes
of true Chinese fashion. I did not see much
change in the young girls' attire. Everywhere
they dress their raven hair in an innumerable
quantity of plaits, weigh down their ears with
gold rings reaching sometimes to a circumfer
ence of eight inches, and wear wide trousers.
Only in very remote settlements have I ever
come across the taelsy (gold Chinese coins)
on my journey. These hieroglyphics can be met with in
Norway. (See 'Trace du Buddaisme en Norveye avant
l'importation du Christianisme,' Holmboc, Paris, 1857.)
And even in Poland the same signs were found on some
funeral urns in Sclavonic burial-grounds. (See ' Varhalle
Europeisher Volkergeschichten. Karl Bitter, Berlin, 1820.)

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 287
pierced and threaded with the usual coral, and
Avorn round the neck. The love of Tartar wo
men for aU ornaments, and especially for coral,
is so great that every girl, even the very poor
est, who cannot even afford clothing, possesses
at least one majan (large coral), and maintains
that this is the best ornament, as it never wears
out. The country from settlement to settlement is
not picturesque, and consists of endless steppes
and luxuriant grass. This monotony is only
broken by tumuli, which have existed for end
less ages, having been raised by the primitive
tribes. They are scattered all over Eastern
Siberia, and are pyramidal in shape, and sur
rounded with sharp stones like a fortress. In
side is a subterranean chamber full of human
skulls and bones carefully arranged in a sugar-
loaf shape; there are also a large quantity of
forged iron objects, such as hatchets, rings, and
chains, lying about, doubtless the property and
insignia of their dead owners. These tumuli
are considered by the Shamans to be the abodes
of the guardian spirits of the departed families,
and the removal of even the smallest object
from them would, they think, be followed by
calamities over the whole country.

288 SIBERIAN PICTURES. ?
The government, aware of the attachment of
the natives to these mementoes, has strictly
forbidden any attempt at excavation or removal
of their contents. I visited these tombs several
times, but mindful of the prohibition of the
government, and anxious not to offend the
Tartars, have always been accompanied by
either a Shaman or a Kniaz (elder) of the
village. They are all identically alike. In one
of them, besides the usual iron objects and talis
mans carved on stone, I saw a clumsily executed
little statue of their god Tengri. He is a
spirit of a departed ancestor, whose duty it is to
protect his descendants. All Tartar families
possess a Tengri. The Persians name him
' Piri,' the Mongolians ' Bogda.'
A strange sight met my eyes on the first day
of my travels. Towards the evening I per
ceived a large surface of snowy whiteness.
Surely it could not be snow at a time when
the scorching rays of the sun burn upon every
thing, and the heat is so oppressive that breath
even fails. No, it was not snow, but an illusion
only met with in these latitudes — it was
butterflies. Millions and millions of snow-white butter
flies settle upon the long reeds and grasses

A DRIVE OA'ER THE STEPPES. 28i)
groAving on the morasses, and Avhiten all the
country with the hue of their tiny wings. For
a verst or more the ground Avas covered with
them. Myriads of these little creatures circled
round us, and fell, I may say, in bunches into
our ' kibitka ' (Russian cart). We were obliged
to shake off constantly a thick coating of them,
while new Avhite masses kept falling upon us
like rain. At last Ave left behind this snow-mimi
cry, the steppes regained their former mono
tonous green, and Ave pursued our way in
silence. After about an hour there suddenly
appeared a heavy grey cloud spreading over all
the plain. The driver, pointing with his finger
to this new phenomenon, only said, ' Midge.'
'Midge,' repeated my companion, and imme
diately began to unpack his portmanteau.
Before he had time to effect his purpose, the
cloud was upon us. Immediately I felt a sting
ing pain all over my face and hands, my eyes
fiUed with tears, my breath came with the
greatest difficulty, and my ears were full of a
tingling sensation. This cloud was entirely
composed of minute midges with transparent
wings, Avho are at this time the greatest plague
in Eastern Siberia. They attack man unmerci
fully ; they squeeze themselves into ears, eyes,
VOL. II. U

290 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
nose, and mouth, and it is impossible for the
most enduring of mortals to appear abroad
without a mask on his face and gloves on his
hands in localities they infest.
' Quick, quick,' cried my friend ; ' put this on
your head.' So saying, he handed me a kind
of linen hood with a knitted woollen net, whieh
preserves the face without impeding the breath
ing. I swept off as many of the insects as I
could, and followed his advice. The interpreter
and driver were already covered with the
steppe dominoes. We soon after reached a
Tartar settlement where an amusing sight met
our eyes. Men, women, and children all wore
the same hoods and masks as ours. It looked
like a monster masked ball, N its saloon the
steppes,, its walls the firmament, the sun its
chandelier. The flies themselves provided the
music by the rustle of their tiny wings. This
cloud extended over nearly twenty versts, and
as soon as we were out of it we were able to
divest ourselves of our masks, and breathe freely
once more.
Next day the aspect of the country began to
change ; gradually the plain was broken by low
hills, which rose higher and higher the further
south we proceeded. These were the begin-

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 291
ning of the Sayan mountains, which extend in
an unbroken chain towards Mongolia. Rocks
here and there pierced the greensward, brooks
became more frequent, vegetation increased in
luxuriance, and now and then in the meadows
appeared unknown flowers which would not
have disgraced the finest European garden.
In a charming valley, lying at the foot of
high mountains, there were about a hundred
Tartar huts, the last settlement of the steppes.
Knowing that beyond this village was an un
inhabited desert to be crossed before gaining
the Chinese frontier, I decided to spend the
night there. We stopped, therefore, in front
of the largest hut, and greeted the owner with
the usual salutation — Anym dzoh.
An old man courteously invited us in. A
large piece of foal was roasting on some sticks
stuck in the ground, and the numerous family
of our hosts were busy getting our food ready.
The news of the arrival of strangers quickly
spread, several neighbours came in and sat
down with us upon large straw mats, folding
their legs under them in eastern fashion, while
the women and children stood apart and eyed
us curiously.
After a little while, finding that, though
u2

292 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
Bashka-ulus (foreigners), we were not very
frightening, the young girls and children ap
proached us and teased us with endless ques
tions, touching each part of our clothing.
My interpreter was able to answer them, but I
had to have recourse to gestures. The habits
of the Tartars who dwell in the remotest parts
of the steppes are even more patriarchal than
the others. They select the oldest men, fathers-
of families, to form a council and govern the
whole colony. Hunting, shooting, fishing, and
breeding horses, cattle, and sheep are then-
only occupations. Their dress approaches that
of the Chinese ; the men shave their heads and
grow long hanging-down moustaches ; the
women, besides the usual wide trousers, wear
short jackets and a handkerchief round their
heads turban-fashion. Children of both sexes
up to twelve years of age go about in summer
naked. I learnt through the interpreter that this vil
lage was celebrated for the best mare's milk
(Koumiss), and in spring sick persons come
from a distance to drink it and be cured. The
doctoring of these invalids has become for the
inhabitants not only a great source of gain, but
a perfect mania. I shall never forget how,

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 293
dropping their eastern dignity, the Tartars
went into raptures Avhen relating to us the
wonderful cures they had performed.
' What a pity,' said one of them, ' that you
are quite well I — we should have cured you at
once.' ' Many thanks,' I replied through the inter
preter, ' but I prefer being in good health, how
ever miraculous your cure.'
' You can laugh,' said an old Tartar, ' but
Beriously, ill-health is in itself a pleasure when
the means of removing it are so Avonderful.'
Then they related anecdotes of the different
sick Avho had come to them from all parts of
the world. Among others, they mentioned a
very rich foreigner, who was quite different
from anyone they had ever seen.
' He was,' said my landlord, ' rather pale, his
hair was as red as fire, and instead of beard or
moustache, like you or I, he grew two large
tofts of hair on each side of his face ; he put a
piece of glass into his eye, or hung it round his
neck Avith a string ; he spoke little, and that in
an unknown tongue, and did not understand a
single word of Russian.'
' What nation did he belong to ?'
' To the nation of my lords.'

294 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
' My lords !'
' Oh, yes ; it is a country far away beyond'
the seas. His servant always called him by his
nationality.' In my journeys in Europe, whether amid the
trading Germans, the witty French, or in the
ruins of the Coliseum — in a word, everywhere I
had come across these indefatigable tourists, but
1 did not expect to come upon an Englishman
in these steppes.
In the course of conversation, carried on
through the interpreter, I found that the tradi
tions of this nation, both as to legends and his
torical facts, were most interesting. Were a
scholar to collect them on the spot, and arrange
according to data, science would be a great
gainer ; and this Avould not be difficult, as what
among civilized people is obscured by age and
time, here seems to haATe happened very recently.
The fathers, or at most the grandfathers of the
present generation, witnessed the miraculous
wars in which fought superhuman beings.
They vanquished Burteozino and Goa-morrel by
the help of the hero, Orogo-lukaz, and perform
ed feats which only take place in pre-historic
legends. The legendary history of these tribes still

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 295
continues, the Tengris often leave their sepul
chres and appear to the living. The evil spirit
Horus-lykas walks the steppes. Eclipses of the
sun and moon, fogs, thunder, and lightning are
all supernatural manifestations and connected
with religious observances. In fact, these
tribes are to-day in the same moral state as all
the nations of Northern Europe were in before
the teaching of Christianity. Our past is their
present. It remains to be seen whether the in
flux of progressive European civilization will ob
literate their characteristics. The fusion of their
ideas Avith the western spirit has two great
obstacles : one the close proximity to China, an
essentially stagnant country; and second, a deep
ly-rooted Shamanism, built upon witchcraft and
teaching a firm belief in the supernatural:
The next day wre took leave of the hospitable
Tartars, and, leaving behind this last settlement,
proceeded along the steppe. As the tops of
the yourts disappeared on the horizon, a sad
ness crept over me. I have read somewhere
that the first sight of immeasurable, uninhabited
stretches of land always creates such a sensa
tion. Though for many years I had lived in the
steppes, the so to speak real desert was unknown
to me. When the last vestige of human life dis-

296 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
appeared, Avhen looking ahead I reflected that
there stretched an • infinite space containing
hundreds, thousands of miles without villages,
houses, yourts, or human beings, an indescrib
able melancholy took possession of me. Man's
nature is social, and the greatest beauties of Na
ture cannot entirely satisfy it. Looking at the
various indentations of the mountains rising on
the horizon, I tried to picture towns, castles, and
A'illages about them. Sometimes the white
stones at their feet appeared to me like the
walls of a fortified city, and the fleecy little
clouds about as smoke issuing from high chim
neys. In this lonely wilderness I sought life
after whicli I hungered with my whole soul. I
spent hours buoyed up Avith the vain pictures
of my imagination ; reality soon blew my mirage
pictures to the wind, as the cold Siberian blast
sweeps the morning mists from the landscape.
For the greatest part of the day Ave followed
a small track which was often lost among the
high grasses, and now rose, now descended
abruptly into deep gorges, but nowhere a trace
of man. After a drive of five hours, the driver
stopped and unharnessing- his tired horses al
lowed them to graze. We found both coolness
and shade from the scorching sun under the

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 297
overhanging mountains. I took out my pro
visions and feeling very thirsty pointed to a
running brook.
'Not for us,' said the driver.
This fresh clear water was like a splendid
past that returns to a hungry beggar in his
dreams and sharpens his hunger.
'Do you see those fresh green stalks growing
between us and the stream,' said my companion.
' It's a kind of weed that only grows in inaccessi
ble marshes; if one of us tried to reach the
brook, it would be to sink and never reappear
again ; see, even the horses avoid it, their in
stinct warns them that certain death there
awaits them.'
After a few hours' halt we again started ; the
sun was low in the heavens when I perceived a
grey belt on the horizon — it was a forest.
The German Black Forest, the great Lithua
nian, are as nothing compared with those of Si
beria, The virgin forests of America in olden
times might have borne some resemblance. We
had before our eyes the beginning of a wood
desert, the end was undetermined. I knew
that it extended over Mongolia, but where did
it end ? Perhaps it reached the shores of the
river Pei-ho, and perhaps it lost itself in the

298 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
plains of Persia or the confines of India. The
maps of the Celestial Empire are too inaccurate
to define its limits.
We were obliged to drive through a part of
the forest having on the other side an immense
lake which we skirted. The borders of Siberian
forests do not differ much from other large Eu
ropean ones, except in the superior size and
greater varieties of their trees. The migratory
tribes which sometimes come here in the sum
mer have cut doAvn the outlying trees. Many
stumps, among which young trees are sprouting,
bear witness to the sojourn of Tartars or Tun-
guzs ; but, the further one penetrates, the fewer
marks of man are to be found, and the forest
thickens and the trees increase in size.
A deep, stony river forced us to go deeper
into the wood, and, instead of skirting it, we
penetrated some twenty versts into the interior.
Thousands of paths, tramped down by Avild
beasts, stretched before us. Fearful of losing
our Avay, we endeavoured to follow as closely
as possible the banks of the river. As we pro
ceeded, our way became more and more dif
ficult, and at every pace the wood thickened
so considerably that the trees grew trunk to
trunk, and formed an almost impassable barrier.

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 299
We had frequently to halt and use the hatchet
before we were able to proceed.
Thousands upon thousands of cedars, grow
ing almost one on the top of the other, rot
there for want of space to develop, and, if by
chance a tree has room enough to spread, its
size astonished us. I saw there some birches
whose diameter was nearly six feet, and some
of the cedars measured forty to fifty feet round,.
and resembled mountains or gigantic towers
built by Nature, to show man her power and
his littleness. We continued to advance in the
same direction. The dense mass of trees, en
twining roots, and decaying trunks became so
thick that the work of squeezing through was
impossible in the direction Ave had chosen. We
were far from all signs of human labour.
The driver stopped, dismounted, and, hatchet
in hand, went off upon a voyage of discovery.
He soon returned, bringing the welcome news
that the river had changed its course, and that,
by following it, Ave should soon be out of this
wilderness. Night had, meanwhile, come on.
To journey at night in these localities is most
dangerous. Nothing would be easier than to
miss the direction, to lose sight of the only
guide, the river, and to perish ; as, losing the-

300 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
way in a Siberian forest, is certain death.
Death, horrible, appalling — death by hunger
or by wild beasts. We therefore settled to
pass the night in the neighbourhood. We
found a small meadow near the river's edge,
surrounded by masses of trees ; and here we
lighted our fire. This tiny meadow, left clear
by a strange freak of Nature, was a capital
place for a halt. In the centre of it we saw
the decayed ruins of a cedar, and in it we
erected, our domicile. The river provided us
with pure, cool water, and the dense trees kept
off the sharp north-wind. HaAring carefully
examined our weapons, and settled the watches
in turns, we prepared to pass the night. When
my turn came, I threw fresh fuel on the fire,
wrapped my fur coat around me, as the night
was cold, and was soon lost in thought.
It was not quite dark, but, though the moon
shone brightly in the sky, its light could with
difficulty pierce the thick mass of foliage and
dispel the semi-darkness that reigned beneath.
The stillness was only broken by the cries of
wild beasts. Now and then I could dimly
discern their forms passing between the trees,
but the sight of our fire kept them at a
distance, and they were only visible for a

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 301
moment. The echoes were so far-reaching
that the most distant murmur could be heard
plainly ; imagination, ever on the alert, helped
the delusion. I sometimes fancied that the
rustle of the leaves Avas the distant grunt
of a bear ; the noise of the river splashing
along its stony bed, the tramp of a herd of
wolves ; and the sound of an owl's screech — an
uncanny laugh. Sitting there by the fire, sur
rounded by these varied voices of the night,
I felt that never before in the whole course
of my chequered life had I so vividly realized
God's omnipotence, the vastness of Nature, and
man's nonentity.
Having reached the confines of the inhabited
world, I penetrated in mind those endless
regions where man's foot has never rested.
What frightful solitudes ! hundreds, thousands
of miles that no one has seen. What may they
contain of the mysteries of animal and veget
able organization. The mysterious extent of
these Asiatic forests' gives a faint idea of In
finity. In the presence of this vast, unexplored
region, man's imagination becomes dwarfed,
thought is paralysed, and his impotency is
realized. The night passed safely. At sunrise we were

302 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
ready to start. We followed the river, which
took a bend here and flowed on in another
direction. For the first few hours we still had
to work our way among the trees, but as we
neared the steppes they became less and less
dense, finally the last of them were left behind,
and we saw the clear sky once more. I
breathed more freely.
The country was wild but charming. High
mountains and steep rocks rose all round us in
most fantastic shapes, and amid these glistened
the waters of a large lake. What life, what
varied sounds rose from this desert lake!
Millions of birds, ducks, geese, herons, Avood-
cocks, and swans flew and swam in every di
rection, giving utterance to their different cries.
It was an indescribable chaos; this teeming life,
concentrated in itself, gave one some idea of
what the world must have been in the first days
of the creation. What variety of form, what
difference of kind was there among that cloud
of whirling, flying creatures inhabiting the
shores of that lake. Unused to the sight of man,
they do not look upon him as an enemy, and
they crowded round us ; as in the first days of
organic life, when the first innocent blood had
not been shed.

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 303
My old sporting instincts aAvoke in me. I
seized my gun several times, but as often laid
it doAvn again. I had not the courage to dis
turb their peace and betray their confidence.
Live in peace, 0 birds ! sing merrUy ; your happi
ness is that you do not know man !
Leaving behind us the clear water of this
nameless lake that is not set down in any map,
we wended our way amid the steep mountains
whose summits, hardly visible to the eye, are
covered with eternal snow. The distance from
the lake to the first Chinese settlement is one
hundred versts, and is wholly uninhabited ; it
differs but in the height of its mountains and
greater wildness of scenery from the more
northern regions. There is something truly
grand in these great mountain masses over
hanging fathomless abysses, and in the rushing
mountain torrents tearing down their sides. We
had to stop frequently during the day to rest
the horses, and the night was spent in a crevasse
of the rocks. Early next afternoon, descending
a high pass, we suddenly came upon the pointed
roofs of the last settlements before the Chinese
frontier. These settlements are inhabited by
the Roshkolinkis, Sabaterians, Scopts, &c.
These sects, being hardly tolerated by the

304 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
local authorities, have emigrated to the very
frontiers of Siberia, in order to exercise in free
dom their barbarous rites, A minute description
of these sects would be too extensive a subject.
I Avill therefore only say that the general
character is a blind, questionless attachment to
primitive, almost pre-Christian ideas, and a
stern rejection of everything new, progressive,
and civilising. Every sect has its own canons
and observances. The Roshkolinkis keep literally
to their books, reject clerical authority, and are
ruled by the laws in existence before the puri
fication of the eastern church from superstition.
The Scopts consider the multiplying of hu
manity as a direct increase of sin, and maim
themselves in an atrocious manner and bring
life to its lowest ebb. The Sabaterians, in whose
village we halted, practise a kind of Judaism
mixed with Mahommedan ideas. Like the Jews,
they keep Saturday, expect the coming of
the Messiah, and follow the laws of Moses Avith
respect to the food they eat. They perform
frequent ablutions, throw seed to birds during
prayer, and believe in the seven Mahommedan
heavens with their houris and other material
delights. These people are taciturn, sombre, and of a

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 305
wild and repulsive countenance. Many stories
are current about their mysterious ceremonies,
in which human blood is used. These tales are
doubtless exaggerated ; but it is certain that
these sects look upon the murder of every man
of a different religion as a religious duty, when
ever it can be done secretly and without attract
ing the notice of the authorities. Many mer
chants travelling this way with corn for
Mongolia have been lost without a trace. The
Sabaterians recite their prayers in Russian,
dressed in white clothes; they bow frequently
and kiss relics which they wear suspended
round their necks. They eat with covered heads.
They do not know Hebrew nor the ten com
mandments. They must be descended from
the old Jews, have forgotten their language
and some of the observances of their religion,
retaining the sense of the books of Numbers
and Genesis, though altering and mutilating
them. They possess no written documents
and rely solely upon tradition, and have widely
deviated from the Mosaic record. - Besides the
occupation of the Creator, taken from the Tal
mud, of feeding the inhabitants of Paradise upon
the fish Leviathan, they believe that a great
abyss called Taran exists in the centre of the
VOL. H. X

306 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
earth, where avenging giants periodically throw
all those who violate the sanctity of the Sabbath.
We put up in a hut whose owner, a strong,
powerful man, tried to induce us to remain a
night with him, and thus escape the discomfort
which would beset us on the Chinese frontier.
Saying which he kept examining the revolvers
we carried in our belts, as if speculating upon
the chances of attack and defence. But we
were proof against his arguments, knowing that
it would be sheer madness to spend a night
among notorious murderers, especially as I had
a large sum of money with me belonging to my
employer. After two or three hours' rest, we started for
the frontier, only about twenty versts distant.
I noticed that all the time we spent among the
Sabaterians our driver was uneasy, pale, and
had lost his usual appetite. ' Hospodi prosti,'
he cried, crossing himself when the last house
of .the settlement was passed. 'I will give a
candle to my patron saint, that we have escaped
from the murderous hole.'
It was evident that in danger he would have
been of little use. Two hours afterwards, the
white yourts of the Mongols and Sayans ap
peared spread over the valley. It was the

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 307
Chinese frontier. The line between Eastern
Siberia and Mongolia, like all localities in
habited by migratory tribes, is not permanently
fixed. Where the ground is not tilled, a larger
or smaller surface has hardly any value ; the
yourts can be taken up and placed anywhere as
required, and the line dividing the tAvo coun
tries exists but in maps, no one having accur
ately fixed it. The Mongolians, constantly
migrating northwards or retreating southwards,
make an exact delineation still more difficult.
Each settlement moves in the course of a few
years, and no inhabitant can honestly say
whether the land he occupies at the moment
belongs to Siberia or the Celestial Empire.
The people inhabiting these plains are quite
different from other Asiatic tribes I have seen.
The Mongolian language is wholly unlike the
Tartar tongue. Their appearance, dress, char
acter, and habits are also dissimilar ; the only
point uniting these tribes is Shamanism, with
all its observances. Mongolians, from having
been so long under the Mantchurs, have Chinese
habits and characteristics. The hospitality and
childlike innocence of the Tartars are not to be
found in them ; on the contrary, they are greedy,
distrustful, cunning, and dishonest in the high-

308 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
est degree. Cheating and stealing is considered
by all tribes belonging to the Celestial Empire
as a good quality, almost a virtue ; and though
the lives of Europeans residing among them are
safe (as they are cowardly, and shrink from
murder), still one ought to be fully prepared to
lose all one's possessions at any time. Their
adroitness in this is really so marvellous that
the best conjurors would find something to
learn from them.
Having some goods to exchange with them,
I received instructions how to proceed with
them before I left Minusinsk. I succeeded in
this difficult undertaking after much trouble
and endless caution. After having settled the
exchange, I held the goods in my hand up to
the moment that my interpreter received the
fur given instead. At a given' signal, I let go
the piece of stuff, and at the same moment my
interpreter snatched up the fur. In spite of
these precautions, several yards of red cloth
vanished suddenly from my hands before my
companion could snatch a fur-skin, and, on the
most minute research, could nowhere be dis
covered. The Mongolian who had stolen it in
so masterly a manner declared, with every
appearance of innocence, that I had never had
anything in my hand.

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 309
The physiognomies of both the Mongolians
and Sayans are frightful — very high cheek
bones, flattened noses, narrow, slanting eyes
without eyelashes or eyebrows, and, deeply set
in the head, give them a most repulsive appear
ance. The women are even uglier than the
men. A common descent can easily be traced
between them and the Tartars, but what is
merely sketched in the latter is exaggerated in
the former almost to a caricature. An artist
would find some difficulty in taking a Mongol's
likeness in profile, for there Avould be a lack of
nose, no contour of the face, and only a shape
less line formed by a bulging forehead and a
high cheek-bone.
Mongolians dress in the Chinese fashion,
shave their heads, and smoke long thin chi
bouks ; their greatest delicacies in the way of
food are ants, beetles, and grasshoppers, which
they eat raw in handfuls. Their Shaman priests
wear high,- pointed caps surrounded by tiny
bells; and besides their usual offices, such as
curing bewitched people, making cows give
milk, and selling charms, they exercise the
functions of magistrates, and settle domestic
disputes. Like the Tartar priests, they bless
and supply with talismans newly-married

310 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
couples. The matrimonial characteristics of
Mongolian, Tartar, and, in fact, all tribes who-
profess Shamanism, is abduction.
When a young girl and man are in love with
each other, the man makes an appointment
with his lady-love as to the time and place-
when he is to carry her off without the know
ledge of the parents. At night he collects his
friends, steals towards the hut of his beloved,
and runs away with her. Sometimes the vil
lage is aroused out of its slumbers, and offers
opposition ; but generally the loss is not dis
covered until the next morning. The villagers
then mount their horses, and try to recover the-
girl ; a fight ensues, in which both sides get
black eyes and broken teeth or ribs. All is
finished by a sum of money being paid by th&
bridegroom and a general festivity. When
peace is restored, a Shaman is called to bless a
marriage which has generally been consum
mated as soon as the young people became
acquainted. Then the wedding takes place, ac
companied by singing and dancing to the sound
of a flat copper kettledrum called ' tam-tam.'
This habit of carrying off wives, which I wit
nessed during my sojourn among the Mongo-*
lians, is of a very ancient origin. It was a long

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 311
time in vogue with the Sclavonians. Nestor
mentions it among the Drerlaws and Krivit-
zans ; the Polans alone, who traded with Greece,
had their women brought to them. In the
province of Vitebsk to this day during the wed
ding feast the bridegroom pretends to carry off
the bride, he driving her to a neighbouring
forest, but returns her again. According to
Ushold, abduction was the only form of mar
riage in the olden time. Vico considers it the
outcome of the barbarian ideas of the primitive
age, who, like the wild animals, carried off their
prey to their lairs.
As man progressed, these customs gradually
changed and disappeared, giving place to others
more in keeping with the spirit of the age.
But in Northern Asia, where the light of civili
zation has not penetrated, they have remained
in their native coarseness.
Other distinct types can be seen, besides the
Shamans, amongst the Mongolians and Sayans.
One of them is a woman-doctor (Gonia), another
the official clown. The woman-doctor, besides
her natural office of midwife, is always called
in as soon as sickness makes its appearance ;
she administers medicines of herbs, makes poul
tices, and even sews up wounds. Besides per-

512 SIBERIAN PICTURES.
forming these offices, she helps the Shaman
during his incantations. These women-doctors
are generally so very old and hideous that
their like can only be imagined in disordered
dreams. The official clown's duty is to amuse the
people during matrimonial feasts and other
holidays. They dress ludicrously, black their
faces, crack jokes, and are generally good acro
bats. They have no other occupation, as they
are maintained by the community, and, when
not engaged in the duties of their calling, they
are smoking and drinking ariash. I must add
that their profession is generally looked upon
as low and degrading, and that no Mongolian
will enter into conversation with a clown, or
even speak to him. Soon after my arrival, and
not knowing local customs, I met one of these
men. My curiosity was aroused by his exte
rior, and I told my interpreter to draw him into
conversation, when an old man who was sitting
near ceased smoking and suddenly exclaimed,
' Don't talk to him ; he is not worthy of it. He
is Zin.'
1 must here close my imperfect sketches of
the habits and customs of these almost unknown
races. My time in their country was short, and

A DRIVE OVER THE STEPPES. 313
so entirely devoted to business, that I had
hardly any at my disposal for observation ; yet
these details will, I venture to think, be inter
esting. When, in years to come, in conse
quence of new routes being opened up through
the Celestial Empire, these wild and dangerous
steppes and uninhabited regions will be safe
and populated, Mongolia, now so little known
even by its neighbours, will be accessible to all.
It. is now only visited by those who from cir
cumstances are forced to go there.

THE END.

U)NDOM i PBIHTED BT DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUSE.

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