THE DEATH OF THE TSAR—NEW MANIFESTOES—THE CENSUS
“Do you know that the Tsar is very ill? They say the doctors are
doubtful of his recovery.” A well-known official addressed me one day in
these words.
The unexpected news surprised me very much. It had been a general belief
that Alexander III., of whose herculean strength many stories were
current, would attain a great age, and so be able to carry on his
reactionary policy for many years to come; and now suddenly there shone
a ray of hope, for even in Russia it is usual to expect much of a new
ruler.
In November, 1894, came tidings of the Tsar’s death; and soon afterwards
two manifestoes were announced—one for the marriage of Nicholas II., and
one for his coronation. This time I was not excluded. By the provisions
of the first manifesto the entire term of my punishment was shortened by
a third, _i.e._ by four years and some months; but this “grace” came
when I had altogether only ten more months of convict life before me! By
the second manifesto the time I had to wait before I could pass from the
category of exile to that of simple peasant was altered from ten to four
years. When I was told of the first manifesto I was also informed that I
should have to go to Yakutsk as an exile: but eventually, in consequence
of various circumstances, I did not avail myself of either proclamation.
Private reasons occasioned my preferring to remain in Kara; so I did not
go into exile at all, but remained where I was as a convict, having
obtained the Governor’s permission to do so.
* * * * *
One cold December day in 1896 I suddenly heard the sound of
sleigh-bells, and a sledge stopped before my house. The door opened, and
a man entered wrapped in sheepskin and _dohà_.[110]
Footnote 110:
A kind of cloak with fur both inside and out.
When he had emerged from his furs I recognised our _starshinà_,[111] an
important functionary known and feared far and near. His wisdom and
firmness had secured for this representative of the peasants’
self-government a universal respect far above his social position. He
was strong-minded and independent, and was said to be a very adroit and
energetic man, but also hard, and morally not quite above reproach. He
lived about thirty versts from my abode, and had only visited me on one
former occasion. I therefore concluded that only some important reason
could have induced him to come so far in the bitter cold. According to
Siberian custom, he did not at once begin upon his business; but after
he had drunk some glasses of hot tea and eaten something, he laid the
case before me as follows:—
The Government had issued orders that a census of the whole population
should be taken on an appointed day throughout the whole immense empire.
For this purpose there would be required a large number of capable
persons such as in Russia it was not very easy to find, and still less
so in Siberia. The local authorities were hard put to it on this
account, and the census superintendent of the district had consulted
with his subordinates how to solve the problem. When affairs at Kara and
the neighbouring villages came to be discussed, our _starshinà_ had
declared that he would only undertake the business on one condition,
namely, that I should help him. I was the only fit person; without me
the thing would be impossible. The census superintendent had nothing to
say against my participation in the work, and even the _prìstav_
(against whom I had drawn up the complaint) could make no objection,
though he himself was to take an active part in the proceedings. He had,
in fact, to superintend the taking of the census in his own district,
and if I were to assist I should be directly responsible to him.
Footnote 111:
The elder or chief of the commune, as the _stàrosta_ is of the
village.—_Trans._
The _starshinà_ explained all this to me, and asked if I would consent.
I agreed immediately; for the work involved would be a welcome relief to
the monotony of my life, and was for a useful end. One circumstance only
made me a little anxious—association with the _prìstav_ might be
awkward. However, the _starshinà_ assured me that the man heartily
regretted that old affair, would gladly have it forgotten, and bore me
no grudge. One other obstacle—the difficulty of obtaining permission
from the superintendent of the convict settlement—the _starshinà_
himself undertook to remove.
The business was soon arranged, and I—the “political criminal”—was
suddenly clothed with official dignity. I was to take the census in a
village about fifteen versts away, with a large population of about a
thousand souls; and I was then to enumerate the people of another
village in conjunction with the pope.[112]
Footnote 112:
The village priest.—_Trans._
It was very interesting to look up these peculiar people in their own
homes and to make personal acquaintance with them. Of course, there were
many comical episodes and absurd misunderstandings; and on the other
hand, I had glimpses of very sad—even tragic—circumstances.
My trouble was so far rewarded that the inhabitants expressed their
gratitude to me in various ways, and the officials seemed to be
impressed by my promptitude. I had accomplished my task some little time
previously when one day in January, 1897, the _starshinà_ paid me
another visit. The good man had again something to ask me. It was
prescribed by the instructions that the head of every census-area should
finally call together a certain number of the persons who had undertaken
the work of enumeration in his district—one from each commune—to correct
the results and draw up a general report.
The head of our district was, as I have said, my old opponent the
_prìstav_; and I now learned that that gentleman was particularly
desirous to persuade me, through the mediation of the _starshinà_, to
represent our commune—the Shilkìnskaya Vòiost—at the committee of
census-takers for his district.
The proposal had much to attract me. For more than eleven years I had
never left Kara, and I knew only the adjacent villages. Now I was
offered the chance of travelling a distance of some hundreds of versts,
and that in a province which, as I was aware, contained much that was of
great interest. The work of drawing up the general report likewise
interested me. The only objection was association with a man I had come
against in such an unpleasant way; but the eloquence of the _starshinà_
again prevailed over my doubts, and I agreed to undertake the task.
Permission for me to leave my place of internment was at once given, and
I set off on my journey.
Of course I travelled at the State’s expense. I received a pass from the
Governor, which entitled me to requisition horses for my use wherever I
went, and to lodge in the _zèmskaya kvàrtira_, or official
residences;[113] in short, I was for the time being an official
travelling on Government business.
Footnote 113:
In every Siberian village a house is kept up by the inhabitants, at
local expense, for the accommodation of any officials who may be
passing through. _Zèmskaya kvàrtira_ literally means “provincial
quarters,” or “communal quarters.”—_Trans._
A journey of the kind in a Siberian winter is no trifling matter. I was
clad in furs, a _dohà_ over all the rest, and so wrapped up in a fur rug
that I could hardly move in the sledge. The road ran for the most of the
way through a practically uninhabited part of the province, a hilly,
thickly wooded country, and the horses had hard work to get the sledge
along. Every thirty or forty versts we came to a halting-station, where
the horses were changed. When I arrived everyone was always most
subservient and polite, giving me such a reception as befitted a very
important official, which was sometimes extremely funny. At the first
station where I was to spend the night, the elder of the village
displayed a perfect fever of official zeal. I arrived late in the
evening, and had at once sought my bed, when the man came to me, much
disturbed.
“Has your Excellency any orders for me?”
I begged him to see that horses were ready for my start next morning;
but that did not seem to satisfy him. He said that my gracious commands
should be obeyed, and still insisted on decorating me with a title. When
I explained to him who I really was, he admitted “certainly that was
another thing”; but orders he was determined to have, notwithstanding,
and asked if he should not fetch the census-takers of the village to
wait on me. I naturally did not wish to disturb them in the middle of
the night, which he could not understand at all. The people of other
villages also astonished me by the fervour of their attentions; and I
could not quite comprehend it, until I learned that our masterful
_prìstav_ had travelled by the same route a few days before, and had
spurred up his subordinates with injunctions to receive the “Censor of
Shilkinskaya” (as I was entitled) with all honour, and to fulfil his
orders most carefully.
As I approached the goal of my journey I met at the stations other
census-takers, also on their way to the conference. Among these people a
rumour was current that the head of our district had found the lists
submitted to him unsatisfactory, and that the whole business would have
to be done over again. Of course my colleagues were rather troubled over
this, for such an undertaking might easily cost them several days’ work,
and they had left pressing affairs behind them. Besides, the
census-takers received but very scanty remuneration for their
exertions—a few roubles only; or, if they preferred it, a medal which
the Government had had struck for the purpose.
After two days I arrived at the Stanitsa Aigùnskaya, where the
conference was to be held. I had been wondering all this while how my
meeting with the _prìstav_ would go off, and he, too, seemed to have
had the same anxiety; for I had scarcely awakened next morning when a
Cossack came to the _zèmskaya kvàrtira_, where I and the other
census-takers had slept, and announced that the _prìstav_ wished to
speak to the Censor of Shilkinskaya. I told the man to say I would
come as soon as I could, made a leisurely toilet, and had my
breakfast. But in a short time appeared a fat man of about fifty, in
the uniform of a police official, who introduced himself as
“Head-of-the-census-district-of-so-and-so Bìbikov”—my _prìstav_, in
fact. I on my side announced myself as “Census-taker Deutsch,” and we
chatted together most peaceably, as if we had never fallen out in our
lives. The tormented man at once poured out his troubles to me. He
could not manage his task at all, and confessed that he could not make
head or tail of the divers instructions, orders, and circulars of the
various authorities; neither did he know how to proceed with the
examination of lists and drawing up of the report for his district.
And then there were thirty census-takers worrying him, some of whom
had come a whole week’s journey from their homes; naturally they
wanted to get back, and they were pressing him to release them, but he
could not accede to their wishes, as all the lists seemed to him
inadequate. His moving tale ended with a petition that I would stand
by him; he knew how well I had managed things in my division, and I
was the only man who could help him to bring this difficult task to a
satisfactory conclusion. Several of the other census-takers, too,
urged me to take the thing in hand; and as I was interested to see how
the work had been started from the beginning, and what a
superintendent like the _prìstav_ was expected to do, after some
hesitation I consented, for which my quondam enemy thanked me
effusively.
When we entered the official building the office was full of people.
These were the census-takers, among whom were all kinds of
persons—clerks, medical men, schoolmasters, and a great many Cossacks.
Directly they saw the _prìstav_ they crowded round him, begging him to
try and finish up with them.
“Just look at them!” said the _prìstav_; “that’s how it goes on every
day. It’s enough to drive one mad!”
I made them give me the papers, and tried to master their contents. As I
had already guessed, the business was not really so difficult and
puzzling as it had appeared to the poor police official; but it was work
that did not come within his scope, and he had no notion how to tackle
it. At the end of a few hours I had things in train, and could show him
what he had to do.
The presence of the census-takers proved to be unnecessary, and they
were able to go home next day, for which they were extremely grateful;
but I myself had to remain a whole fortnight in the place. There was in
fact a great deal of writing to do, and the _prìstav_ and I were hard at
it from morning to night. He was always politeness itself to me, and no
one who witnessed his charming behaviour now could have believed that he
had once given orders to put me in irons. But of course that episode was
never alluded to.