Through Siberia

Early history of Siberia.—Yermak.—Conquest of the Tatars.—Tobolsk the first capital.—The exiled bell.—Our visit to the Governor.—Hard-labour prisons.—Interior arrangements.—“Travaux forcés.”—Testimony of prisoners.—Books presented.

Tobolsk, for a long period, was the capital of the whole of Siberia. This will be a suitable place, therefore, in which to treat briefly the history of the Russian subjugation of the country at large. It can hardly be said that Siberia was familiar to the Russians before the middle of the sixteenth century; for, although at an earlier period an expedition had penetrated as far as the Lower Obi, yet its effects were not permanent. Later, Ivan Vassilievitch II. sent a number of troops over the Urals, laid some of the Tatar tribes under tribute, and in 1558 assumed the title of “Lord of Siberia.” Kutchum Khan, however, a lineal descendant of Genghis Khan, punished these tribes for their defection, and regained their fealty, and so ended again for a while the result of the Russian expedition. A third invasion, however, was made in a way quite unexpected. Ivan Vassilievitch II. had extended his conquests to the Caspian Sea, and opened commercial relations with Persia; but the merchants and caravans were frequently pillaged by hordes of banditti, called Don Cossacks, whom the Tsar attacked, killing some and taking prisoner or scattering others. Among the dispersed were 6,000 freebooters, under the command of a chief named Yermak Timofeeff, who made their way to the banks of the Kama, to a settlement at Orel, belonging to one of the Stroganoffs, where they were entertained during a dreary winter, and where Yermak heard of an inviting field of adventure, lying on the other side of the Urals. Thither he determined to try his fortunes, and after an unsuccessful attempt in the summer of 1578, started again with 5,000 men in June of the next year. It was eighteen months before he reached the small town of Tchingi, on the banks of the Tura; by which time his followers had dwindled down, by skirmishes, privation, and fatigue, to 1,500 men. But they were all braves. Before them was Kutchum Khan, prince of the country, already in position, and, with numerous troops, resolved to defend himself to the last. When at length the two armies stood face to face, that of Yermak was further reduced to 500 men, nine-tenths of those who left Orel having perished. A desperate fight ensued, the Tatars were routed, and Yermak pushed on to Sibir, the residence of the Tatar princes. It was a small fortress on the banks of the Irtish, the ruins of which are still standing, and of which I have seen a photograph, if I mistake not, among Mr. Seebohm’s collection.

Yermak was now suddenly transformed to a prince, but he had the good sense to see the precariousness of his grandeur, and it became plain that he must seek for assistance. He sent, therefore, fifty of his Cossacks to the Tsar of Muscovy, their chief being adroitly ordered to represent to the Court the progress which the Russian troops, under the command of Yermak, had made in Siberia, where an extensive empire had been conquered in the name of the Tsar. The Tsar took very kindly to this, pardoned Yermak, and sent him money and assistance. Reinforced by 500 Russians, Yermak multiplied his expeditions, extended his conquests, and was enabled to subdue various insurrections fomented by the conquered Kutchum Khan. In one of these expeditions he laid siege to the small fortress of Kullara, which still belonged to his foe, and by whom it was so bravely defended that Yermak had to retreat. Kutchum Khan stealthily followed the Russians, and, finding them negligently posted on a small island in the Irtish, he forded the river, attacked them by night, and came upon them so suddenly as with comparative ease to cut them to pieces. Yermak perished, but not, it is said, by the sword of the enemy. Having cut his way to the water’s edge, he tried to jump into a boat, but, stepping short, he fell into the water, and the weight of his armour carried him to the bottom. Thus perished Yermak Timofeeff, and when the news reached Sibir, the remainder of his followers retired from the fortress, and left the country.

The Court of Moscow, however, sent a body of 300 men, who before long made a fresh incursion, and reached Tchingi almost without opposition. There they built the fort of Tiumen, and re-established the Russian sovereignty. Being soon afterwards reinforced, they extended their operations, and built the fortresses of Tobolsk, Sungur, and Tara, and soon gained for the Tsar all the territory west of the Obi. The stream of conquest then flowed eastward apace. Tomsk was founded in 1604, and became the Russian head-quarters, whence the Cossacks organized new expeditions. Yeneseisk was founded in 1619, and, eight years afterwards, Krasnoiarsk. Passing the Yenesei, they advanced to the shores of Lake Baikal, and in 1620 attacked and partly conquered the populous nation of the Buriats. Then, turning northwards to the basin of the Lena, they founded Yakutsk in 1632, and made subject, though not without considerable difficulty, the powerful nation of the Yakutes; after which they crossed the Aldan mountains, and in 1639 reached the Sea of Okhotsk. Thus in the span of a single lifetime—70 years—was added to the Russian crown a territory as large as the whole of Europe, whose ancient capital, as I have said, was Tobolsk.

The citadel and upper town stand on a hill, with a precipitous front, at the foot of which lies the lower town. The two are now connected by a winding carriage-road, but formerly the only entrance to the citadel was by a very steep incline through the fortress gates. From the top of the hill an extensive view is obtained of the Irtish, flowing close by the town to its junction with the Tobol. The town below is built with regularity, and contains many churches and monasteries. The houses are chiefly of wood, and the streets are paved with the same material. But the glory of Tobolsk has long been waning, and, when this is the case with a Siberian town, wooden roadways degenerate into a delusion and a snare. They rot and remain unrepaired, and one is in danger at night of tumbling into holes. The population of the town consists mainly of Russians, Tatars, and Germans, and in it are manufactured leather, tallow, soap, tiles, boats, and firearms.

In the upper part of the town are some handsome churches, and a cathedral, near which is the famous bell from Uglitch, that was exiled by Boris Gudonoff because it gave signal to the insurrectionists. On their being quelled, the unfortunate bell was deposed, had two of its ears broken off, was publicly flogged, and sent to Siberia and forbidden for ever to ring again. But the ban has since been removed, and it now is hung, not in a belfry, but alone, and assists in calling the people to church.

Not far from the fortress are the pleasure-gardens, and also the three hard-labour prisons, which we wished particularly to see. My letter was therefore presented to M. Lisagorsky, the Governor, who immediately sent for the police-master; and we proceeded at once to visit our first hard-labour prisons in Siberia. For many years Tobolsk was a principal place of punishment, and even now prisoners condemned to the east frequently spend here the first portion of their time. On the road we had heard it spoken of as a place of considerable severity, in which were kept those condemned to “travaux forcés.” On entering, therefore, I braced my nerves for such horrors as might present themselves. The authorities seemed determined that the prisoners should not harm us (or them?); for, as we moved from ward to ward and section to section, there followed us four soldiers with fixed bayonets. The buildings were large and of brick, with double windows to keep out the cold; and I noticed that, in addition to a pillow and covering, mattresses stuffed with old clothes were also provided for the prisoners. These, I presume, were furnished by the local committee. They had a few books, and as one man only in ten could read, it was usual during the evenings for these to read aloud to their less instructed fellows. I saw a copy of the “Lives of the Saints” in one room, but no Bibles. The guard-room for the military was furnished much the same as the prisoners’ rooms. There were likewise other wards of various sizes: one for murderers, having five occupants (most of whom, we were told, had committed their crimes in fits of drunkenness); another for eight men without passports; and other rooms for thieves. One was occupied by a man who had run away, and another by a man who, for selling things belonging to an altar, had been found guilty of sacrilege.

In the first prison were nine single cells, in one of which was a Polish doctor, a political offender, who had surrounded himself with such small comforts as Polish books, eau-de-Cologne, and cigarettes, which last he (by way of privilege) was allowed to smoke. One or two cells were set apart for punishment.

After marching through room after room, corridor after corridor, now across yards with prisoners lolling about, and now through sleeping apartments, where some were not even up, though breakfast-time had long gone by, I began to wonder where the work was going on, and asked to be shown the labours of those condemned to “travaux forcés”; upon which we were taken first into a room for wheelwrights, and next into a blacksmith’s shop. Then we were introduced to a company of tailors, and another of shoemakers, and last of all we saw a room fitted for joiners or cabinet-makers’ work. The amount of labour going on appeared to be exceedingly small, and the number of men employed (or apparently that could be employed) to be only a sprinkling of the 732 inmates in prisons Nos. 1 and 3, and 264 in prison No. 2. I believe some reason was given why more were not at work, though whether it was a holiday or bathing-day, or what, I forget; but I came to the conclusion that they had not appliances enough to find occupation for 1,000 prisoners, and that one need not have come to Siberia to see the severity of a hard-labour prison, since the same might just as easily have been witnessed in Europe. Had I entered with any of the curiosity that takes people to the chamber of horrors at Madame Tussaud’s, such curiosity would certainly have remained ungratified. The prisons of Tobolsk reminded me most of those I had seen in Vienna and Cracow, in which, however, in some respects, a comparison would result in favour of Siberia; for at Cracow the convicts had not only to work at the bench by day, but, if my memory does not fail me, to sleep on it at night. At Tobolsk a set portion of labour is imposed daily; but when this is done, the prisoner is at liberty to work for himself. Various specimens of their handicraft were shown to us.

Prison No. 2 contained criminals who were sentenced to terms ranging from one year to the whole of life, and who, when liberated, were to be sent east to live like colonists. I do not know to whom the credit of superiority is due, whether to the governor of the province, the governor of the prison, or the local committee; but I was struck with the fact when I subsequently asked two prisoners who had been deported across Siberia, as to which prison west of Irkutsk they thought, from their point of view, the best, they both mentioned that of Tobolsk. We left with the governor of this province nearly 500 Scripture portions, such as copies of the Gospels, Psalms, and the New Testament in Russian, Polish, German, French, and Tatar, together with 400 copies of the illustrated Russian Workman, and 1,000 tracts, his Excellency kindly undertaking to distribute the papers and tracts in the schools, and in the best way he could through the province generally, and to place the books for permanent use, not in the libraries, but within reach of each person in every room of every prison, hospital, poor-house, or similar institution under his administration. Having made these arrangements, committed them to paper in the form of a letter, and delivered it to the governor on the Monday evening, we awaited the arrival of the steamer to take us to Tomsk.