A PREHISTORIC MONUMENT—MY DEPARTURE FROM KARA—LIFE IN STRETYENSK—MY
TRANSFERENCE TO BLAGOVESTSHENSK—THE MASSACRES OF JULY, 1900
During my sojourn in Kara I took part in an expedition, the object of
which was to discover the whereabouts of a curious relic of ancient
times. One of our comrades, Kuznetsov by name, who by reason of his
archæological researches was rather a noted personality in Siberia, had
written to me on this subject. According to the testimony of various
people, there was in the neighbourhood of Kara a monumental stone
covered with ancient characters inscribed in some red colouring matter.
This had been mentioned long before in the proceedings of the
Geographical Society of Irkutsk, but had never been described in detail;
and Kuznetsov—who himself lived at a considerable distance from Kara—was
anxious that I should search for it and copy the inscription.
I gladly undertook the mission, and early one spring day I set out on
the quest, accompanied by two friends, following the meagre clue we had
been able to obtain. We only knew in a general way the direction and
distance of our object, which was supposed to be near the banks of the
River Bitshoug, about thirty-five versts away. There was no road, and we
were obliged to go on foot across a very boggy bit of country, leading
the horse which carried our provisions and other necessaries.
We started at dawn, reached the river towards evening, and there camped
out for the night. During the next few days we explored the locality,
but in vain, and we were at last obliged to return from our fruitless
errand. I then made further inquiries about the stone among the
inhabitants of the place, many of whom were hunters, and therefore well
acquainted with the surrounding country, and I promised a reward to
anyone who could guide me to it; but it was not until nearly two years
later that I heard a report of how two peasants from a neighbouring
village had seen something of the kind. This rumour proved correct; and
a gold-digger of my acquaintance undertook to guide me to the object of
my search, making the expedition by sledge, as it was then winter.
The monument with the red inscription turned out to be not far from the
spot where I and my friends had previously looked for it, but the dense
forest undergrowth had hidden it from us. It dates undoubtedly from a
very early period, and consists of a smooth perpendicular surface hewn
in the rock, whereon curious signs and characters are drawn.
We made a careful sketch of the monument, and a photographer who
happened to visit Kara subsequently took separate photographs of the
whole stone and of the coloured characters. These I sent to Kuznetsov,
with a detailed description, but I have never heard whether the meaning
of the inscription has been deciphered.
* * * * *
When, in consequence of the imperial manifesto, I passed from the
category of convict into that of exile, the change only affected my
circumstances in that it deprived me of the right to an allowance from
the State. Henceforward I was thrown entirely on my own resources, and
the task of supporting myself was no light one. The population of Kara
diminished steadily, and among others the family whose children I had
taught for several years removed from the place. It was absolutely
impossible to find any other remunerative occupation; my relations at
home were sending me no money, and my affairs got into a very
unsatisfactory state. I had a host of debts, and could expect assistance
from no one.
[Illustration:
THE COSSACK VILLAGE OF STRETYENSK
To face page 324
]
Just then began the work in connection with the construction of the
railway in the Stanitsa of Stretyensk, some hundred versts distant from
Kara. I decided to migrate thither; and, the Governor having given me
the necessary permission, I left Kara on the 20th of May, 1897.
The Stanitsa of Stretyensk, situated on the banks of the large and
navigable River Shilka, was at that time the scene of much activity. The
population had increased to between four and five thousand; there were
some good shops and several business firms. The ordinary inhabitants,
besides the Cossacks, were chiefly Jews; but the railway works had
brought all kinds of people to the place—officials, clerks, contractors,
etc.—so that Stretyensk had taken on more the appearance of a thriving
town than of a mere Cossack village.
I soon found a post, and a comparatively good one, on the railway; my
duties being to draw up the various orders, advices, and circulars, and
to copy them out. But the yearning for a fuller life possessed me here
even more than at Kara, partly induced by the more bustling life of the
busy little place, partly by the total absence of any congenial society.
In Kara I had had comrades with whom I could converse on every kind of
topic; but in Stretyensk, though I knew nearly everybody at least by
name, there was no single person to whom I could talk about anything
beyond the most everyday matters. The principal, and almost the only,
subject of conversation was money. The flow of capital into the country
on account of the new railway had aroused in the inhabitants an almost
incredible greed and a feverish desire of becoming rich. There were
numbers of people who recoiled at nothing in the pursuit of this
aim—cheating, dishonesty, even downright theft, were all in the order of
the day; and the irresponsibility and arbitrariness of officials which
prevails throughout Russia, and especially in Siberia, greatly assisted
in undermining the morals of the population. Many large fortunes were
made in an extraordinarily short time.
The only relaxations from this constant working and striving after
riches were drinking and card-playing. Not only was there no library in
the Stanitsa, but there was not even a school for the children of those
who were not Cossacks, _i.e._ a greater part of the inhabitants. When I
of necessity entered into the society of the place I felt myself in a
world entirely strange to me, and utterly uncongenial. It was hardly
possible for any, even intelligent, young man to escape being driven to
drinking or gambling in such an atmosphere.
It is true that here I had the advantage of more freedom of movement
than in Kara, and that I could go further afield. During the two years
of my stay in Stretyensk I frequently made long excursions in different
directions; and on these expeditions I became more closely acquainted
with local conditions, and learned to understand the life of Siberia
much better than would be possible from any amount of mere reading up
the subject.
In the spring of 1899, while travelling, I met with a comrade of my own
way of thinking, who had been exiled by “administrative methods.” It was
the first time I had met a Social Democrat newly come from Russia, and
my delight may be easily imagined. We talked nearly all through the
night, and I learned for the first time from him how great had been the
expansion of our movement among the working classes during the last ten
years, and how quickly the idea of Social Democracy had taken root in
Russia. I was especially impressed by his account of its development
among the Jewish workers in the western provinces.
Under the influence of the feelings aroused by this intelligence, my
longing to return home sprang up with redoubled strength. This thought
had been kept in the background during the last few years; but now it
forced itself upon me with urgent insistence. What were the
possibilities of the case? This question was hard to answer with any
certainty. I had now been fourteen years in Siberia, and it was fifteen
years since my arrest in Freiburg; in accordance with the terms of the
last imperial manifesto, by which I was to benefit, I might go home
after another seven years,[114] and this term might conceivably be
further shortened by some fortunate concatenation of circumstances. Once
more to see European Russia, where I had not been as a free man for
twenty years, was the most fervent wish of my heart; yet what warrant
had I for supposing I should be still alive in another seven years? or
that, being alive, I should actually be granted the privilege of
returning to Russia? Life in Siberia became each year more irksome to
me. I found it well-nigh impossible to remain in Stretyensk, and I
determined to go further east, to the comparatively large town of
Blagovèstshensk. After exerting myself for some time to obtain
permission to do this, I at last succeeded, and in the autumn of 1899 I
quitted Stretyensk.
Footnote 114:
See note, p. 293.—_Trans._
I found myself much better off at Blagovèstshensk; I soon got employment
on one of the two local newspapers, and the work was far more
interesting than that to which I had hitherto been condemned. The
society here, also, was much more agreeable, for the town contained many
cultivated people, and also several comrades in our movement, political
exiles like myself. The town possessed schools, a public library, a
theatre, a telephone service—in short, so far as outward civilisation
went, Blagovèstshensk stood in no way behind European towns of the same
size, and was even in some ways more advanced. During the last few years
the place has attained an unenviable notoriety from the occurrences
there at the time of the war with China in 1900. I thus became an
involuntary witness of that terrible series of events of which the
Russian Government gave such a lying version to the world. In the
interests of truth I will here relate the particulars from my own
experience as an eye-witness of much that occurred.[115]
First of all let me give some details about Blagovèstshensk. It is the
chief, and was formerly the only town in the Amur province, which covers
a considerably larger area than many a European state. Blagovèstshensk
is situated on the flat left bank of the Amur river, which for a long
distance forms the boundary between Russia and China; before the war it
contained 38,000 inhabitants. Most of the houses are of wood, and there
are no fortifications.
Footnote 115:
The remainder of this chapter appeared, with a few further details, in
_Die Neue Zeit_, February, 1902. Extracts from the article were quoted
at the time in many Continental and some English journals.—_Trans._
On the right bank of the river, exactly opposite the town, was the
Chinese village of Saghalien.[116] There was constant intercourse
between the dwellers on either bank, carried on in summer by means of
boats and junks, in winter over the ice; for the Chinese and Manchurians
were the chief purveyors of supplies to the inhabitants of
Blagovèstshensk, especially of meat and vegetables. Until the spring of
1900 relations between the two settlements had been uniformly peaceful;
but after the murder in Pekin of the German ambassador, von Ketteler,
and the decision of the Russian Government, on January 24th, to mobilise
the Siberian army, constraint and tension began to make themselves felt.
On the Chinese side of the river military exercises took place every
evening; the beating of the tattoo sounded, and the firing of cannon was
heard, which had never been known to happen before. To the inquiries of
the Russian authorities as to the meaning of all this, the Chinese
answered that a small detachment of soldiers had been quartered there
for the summer. This reply entirely satisfied the administrators of
Blagovèstshensk, but not the inhabitants; many of them opined that the
Chinese were not having gun-practice for nothing, and telescopes further
showed that earthworks were being constructed in the neighbourhood of
Saghalien. The representations of people who had observed this only
elicited from the Russian military governor of the Amur province—General
N. R. Gribsky—the assurance that these were trifles, and need disquiet
no one.
Footnote 116:
Not to be confused with the _island_ of Saghalien.—_Trans._
[Illustration:
BLAGOVÈSTSHENSK
To face page 328
]
Meanwhile there were but few soldiers in Blagovèstshensk—two or three
regiments of infantry, a regiment of Cossacks, and a brigade of
artillery—and by order of the Governor-General Grodekov even these were
almost all withdrawn on July 11th and sent down the Amur to Habarovsk,
while only one company of soldiers, a hundred Cossacks, and two guns
(one of which proved later to be totally useless) were left behind in
the town. Besides these there were about two thousand reservists, who
had been called out in accordance with the mobilisation order; but in
view of the entire lack of arms and ammunition, these reservists were of
little use, and certainly could not count as any efficient protection to
the town.
The departure of the military, for which many steamers and barges were
needed, took place with much ceremony, and was watched by an immense
crowd of people. This could not fail to be observed by the Chinese
inhabitants of Saghalien, who were thus made aware that the Russian town
was left almost defenceless.
Further down the river, about thirty versts from Blagovèstshensk, is the
little Chinese town of Aigùn. When the Russian soldiery came to this
place on July 12th, the Chinese allowed the boats to pass without
hindrance until all but the last steamer had gone by, and then opened
fire upon this last boat, which contained the ammunition, forcing it to
return to Blagovèstshensk. The news of this attack spread through the
town on the evening of the next day, and aroused great uneasiness among
the inhabitants, even the administration at last becoming alarmed. By
order of General Gribsky, the military governor, a meeting of the Town
Council was called for the morning of the 14th, and this conference was
attended, not only by all the town councillors, but by many of the more
important residents, by various officials, directors of the bank, etc.,
and I myself was present as the correspondent of a local paper.
Colonel Orfenov spoke in the name of the military governor; and after he
had explained to the assembly how scanty were the means of defence
available to the military authorities, he proposed that he himself
should undertake the organisation of affairs. Though it had been known
that after the departure of the troops there could not be many soldiers
left in the town, nobody had supposed that their number was as small as
now appeared from Colonel Orfenov’s account. His frank statement made a
great impression on his audience, and alarmed them considerably. Many
turned pale or showed other signs of emotion, and the voices of the
councillors, whose speeches followed, trembled with excitement. After a
short discussion it was decided to call for volunteers. The town was at
once divided into military districts, and a chief with two assistants
appointed for each. Thereupon some members of the Council repaired to
the military governor to inform him of their decision and to consult
with him upon the situation.
As I was afterwards informed by one of those who spoke then with General
Gribsky, he thanked the town’s representatives for their readiness to
undertake the duties of defence, and tried to quiet their apprehensions
of danger from the Chinese. When asked if he did not think it necessary
to take steps with regard to those Chinese who dwelt in great numbers in
Blagovèstshensk itself and its neighbourhood, he declared that in his
opinion any such special measures would be unnecessary and inadvisable,
as war had not been declared between Russia and China. The General
further informed the deputation that he had already been approached by
representatives of the Chinese in the town, with the question whether it
would not be better for Chinese subjects to withdraw betimes from
Russian territory. Whereupon (and this was his own account of the
matter) he had told the delegates to inform their compatriots that they
might remain where they were without anxiety, as they were on the soil
of the great Russian Empire, whose Government would never allow peaceful
foreigners to be molested. Finally, the governor stated to our
representatives that he himself, with the remaining detachment of
soldiers and the hundred Cossacks, would go on the following day to
Aigùn, in order to free that place from the Boxers, to occupy it, and so
to ensure free passage on the Amur for Russian vessels. This latter
plan, however, was never carried out; for the active hostility of the
Chinese towards the people of Blagovèstshensk manifested itself earlier
than anyone had expected.
On that very same afternoon, when a great number of people of all
classes had assembled at the municipal buildings to enrol themselves as
volunteers, the noise of gunshots suddenly resounded from the Chinese
shore; and from the windows of the town-hall, where I was myself, we saw
people hurrying in crowds from the shore, crying, “The Chinese are
firing! the Chinese are attacking us!”
The volunteers in the town-hall believed, when they heard these cries,
that the Chinese were attacking the utterly defenceless town, and an
indescribable panic ensued; some rushed into the street, others hurried
to the armoury of the hall (where, as everyone knew, some hundred old
guns were stored), crying, “Arms! give us arms!” The number of these
weapons was of course insufficient to arm all the volunteers, and many,
chiefly the poorer people, then rushed to the shops—which, as it was
Sunday, were closed—broke in, and possessed themselves by force of any
weapons they could lay their hands on. The entire community was overcome
with terror. Numbers of the inhabitants packed up their valuables and
fled from the town on foot or on horseback; or took refuge with friends
who lived at a greater distance from the river and in stone houses,
which could afford better protection from shot or shell. The idea that
the Chinese might crowd into the defenceless town, set it on fire, and
practise all manner of horrible cruelties on the inhabitants, drove many
people into a state of positive desperation.
It would in truth have cost a disciplined army of small proportions but
little trouble to destroy Blagovèstshensk in a few hours, but luckily
for its citizens the Chinese were very bad marksmen; most of their
shells never reached the town, but fell into the Amur, or else they
failed to explode. Thanks to this there were only between fifteen and
twenty of the townspeople killed and wounded during the whole
bombardment.
On the second day of the siege Blagovèstshensk presented a forlorn
appearance—shops closed; windows and doors fast shut; no horses and
hardly any foot-passengers in the streets, people who had ventured out
keeping close to the walls, and hurrying over the crossings for fear of
stray bullets; all business at a standstill.
We had already organised a garrison of volunteers. All along the river
bank, for a distance of several versts, shelters were dug out hastily
and by night, in which volunteers of all ages and classes were posted to
observe the Chinese on the opposite shore and so render a surprise
almost impossible. Many people, however, saw danger in quite another
direction, namely, from the Chinese quarter of the town itself. Here
dwelt Chinese and Manchurians in considerable numbers—merchants,
tradesmen, day-labourers—whose work had been most useful to the whole
community. Industrious in the extreme, and modest in their requirements,
these Chinese subjects had never given the smallest cause for complaint;
honesty and conscientiousness were their leading attributes, and in many
shops and commercial houses, and also in private dwellings, entire trust
was reposed in them as employees. By many Russian families with whom the
young Chinese were in domestic service they were looked on as friends;
often they were taught the Russian language, which they would study with
the greatest diligence. But by the lower and less cultivated classes of
the Russian population the Chinese had never been regarded with favour;
they were looked upon as foreigners who obstinately refused to
amalgamate with the Russians, for the Chinese never, with the rarest
exceptions, alter their customs or their outlook on life. The workmen
saw in them dangerous competitors, for it is well known that before the
Chinese came to the Amur wages were higher, (though, on the other hand,
after the war, when cheap Chinese labour disappeared, many articles that
had been within the means of the poorer classes became prohibitively
dear).
From these causes, and also from sheer brutality—for coarse and cruel
elements are to be found in every nation—it happened that even in
peaceful times the Chinese were often maltreated by Russians when they
met in the streets, hustled or knocked about, or their pigtails pulled.
Some more flagrant instances of oppression of the humble, timid Chinaman
even found their way into the columns of the local press; and there were
further instances of this sort after the mobilisation order, when
numbers of reservists, called in from their employments in the country
districts, filled the streets, and would often (especially when drunk)
fall on any Chinese they encountered, beat them unmercifully, and call
after them, “It’s your fault, you dogs, that we’re taken from our work
and our families and sent to our deaths!” In the eyes of the ordinary
European the Chinese were not human beings, but “cattle,” “beasts”; and
the state of things engendered by this feeling had caused the military
governor to issue a proclamation, threatening with punishment those who
molested peaceful Chinese subjects.
Trusting in the assurances of the highest local authority, the Chinese
and Manchurians of Blagovèstshensk and its environs, to the number of
several thousand souls, had remained on the spot. They were soon
bitterly to rue having done so. Even on the 14th of July, when firing
from the Chinese shore was in progress, and the frightened crowd was in
panic-stricken flight, one could see how as they ran they would turn
upon and maltreat any unlucky Chinaman who happened to be in the way.
Chinese and Manchurians fled through the town in a most pitiable
condition, seeking some safe corner in which to hide; and on the evening
of the same day cases were reported of their being murdered in the open
street. Persons whose word could be trusted asserted that the police
officials themselves had advised citizens to kill any Chinese abroad in
the town that evening; for many feared that those on Russian territory
might come to the assistance of their compatriots by setting fire to the
town. It was also supposed that there might be supporters of the Boxers
in the town, and to this fear had been due the first suggestions of its
being advisable to take measures with regard to the native population.
The more temperate and reflecting thought it would be sufficient if
those Chinese for whom Russian citizens would be surety—and of these
there would be many—were left to the care of their European protectors,
and if the rest were assembled together in one place and put under
proper supervision. But it turned out that the local authorities were of
a different opinion.
On the second day after the commencement of the bombardment Cossacks
both mounted and on foot might be seen, together with police, going
round to every house and inquiring whether there were any Chinese
inmates. If asked what was wanted with them, they replied that all
Chinese in the town were to be brought together and placed under the
charge of the police. Suspecting that nothing good was intended, many
people sought to conceal the Chinese who were with them, hiding them in
cellars and attics; but often the neighbours informed the police of
this, and then the Cossacks would insist, with threats and even with
drawn swords, on their being delivered up. This process of arresting the
Chinese lasted over several days.
I can hardly describe the consternation of these unhappy people when
told they must go to the police office. Hastily collecting their
belongings, they followed the Cossacks with faces of unspeakable dismay;
and when taking leave of their European friends they gave them their
money and goods to take care of, in many cases begging them to discharge
some debt, or even giving them the free disposition of their
effects—perhaps houses and shops full of valuable property. Foreseeing
their tragic fate, many asked on the way, “Will they behead us?”
They were not mistaken in their fears. Murder in cold blood awaited
them; and only during the Middle Ages, at the time of the Inquisition
and the persecution of heretics, Jews, and Moors in Spain, have such
inhuman proceedings as now followed been equalled.
Some versts above Blagovèstshensk, on the left bank of the Amur, there
is a Cossack settlement. Thither before sunrise several thousand
Chinese, among them old men, cripples, invalids, women, and children,
were driven by the Cossacks and police. Those who for sickness or
fatigue could not get so far were stabbed on the road by the Cossacks.
One man, a representative of the great Chinese firm Li-Wa-Chan, refused
to proceed, demanding to be taken to the governor, who had promised the
Chinese delegates safety for all who remained on Russian soil; but for
answer the Cossacks killed him then and there. The deputy-_prìstav_,
Shabanov, was present, and uttered no word of protest against this
iniquitous deed.
When the miserable Chinese had been driven down to the shore of the
Amur, they were commanded _to go into the water_. Means there were none
for reaching the opposite Chinese shore; the river at this point is more
than half a verst (about one-third of a mile) in width, and flows with a
strong current. One can picture what terror seized on the poor creatures
at the water’s edge. Falling on their knees, with hands raised to
heaven, or even crossing themselves, they implored to be spared such a
death. Many vowed to become Christians and to be naturalised as Russian
subjects. But the only response vouchsafed to their prayers by the
merciless fulfillers of official orders were bayonet-thrusts, and blows
with the butt-end of rifles or with swords, to drive them into the
river-depths; any who still continued to resist were simply murdered on
the spot.
Persons who by chance were eye-witnesses of this wholesale drowning and
massacring, which proceeded on several successive days before the rising
of the sun, tell of frightful and heartrending scenes. One Manchurian
family that was driven into the water consisted of father, mother, and
two little children. The parents each took a child, and tried to swim
across the Amur, but all were soon sucked down by the current. In
another family there was one child; the mother besought the murderers
and the bystanders at least to take the little one and spare its life,
but no one would do so. She then left it on the bank and herself entered
the water, but after a few steps returned, seized her child, and
carrying it went back into the river, then again returned and laid down
her precious burden. Here the Cossacks intervened to end her
vacillations, stabbing both parent and child. The tortures of this
wretched mother and of all the victims thus driven to their death can be
imagined by everyone not dead to all human feeling. Even the
above-mentioned police officer, Shabanov, declared that he could not
remain to the end of this scene of horror.
[Illustration:
ON THE AMUR NEAR BLAGOVESTSHENSK—THE SCENE OF THE MASSACRE
To face page 336
]
But very few of that immense multitude, and those only the strongest
swimmers, succeeded in getting anywhere near the Chinese shore; yet even
of these but a small number survived. When the Cossacks saw that they
were likely to save themselves they sent a few well-planted shots after
them; and Chinese marksmen, too, posted in trenches on the opposite
side, fired on the swimmers—either because they took them for Russians,
or because they considered as enemies all Chinese who had remained in a
Russian province after, as was asserted, a proposal had been made to
them that they should return to their homes long before the beginning of
hostilities.
When, on July 17th, great numbers of corpses became visible floating
down the Amur it was clear to everyone in Blagovèstshensk that these
peaceful unarmed Chinese inhabitants of the town, whom the governor
himself had advised not to return to China, but to trust in his promise
of protection, had been done to death. Scarcely two days after the
guarantee had been given, General Gribsky had faithlessly broken his
word, by giving the verbal order to “_send back the Chinese subjects to
China_.”
Indignation and horror filled the minds of all right-thinking people
when they learned in what manner that order had been carried out. The
dreadful story was told with tears and shuddering; many longed to
protest, and express their burning wrath at the barbarous treatment of
the poor harmless Chinese workpeople, but how was that possible in
Russia? Besides, on the 17th itself, Blagovèstshensk and the entire
province of the Amur had been put under martial law; consequently anyone
who dared to protest would have been instantly dragged before a
court-martial. Some of those who compassionated the Chinese tried at
least to prevent the continuance of the reign of terror. A few instances
occurred where people who had managed to conceal Chinese servants or
guests in their houses, went to the local authorities with urgent
petitions that they might be allowed to offer personal surety for these
survivors of the massacre; and some who had exceptional influence
succeeded in saving one or two. But such cases were rare, and nearly all
who were preserved in this way had to remain in custody of the police
throughout the siege.
The rich young merchant Yun-Tcha-San (a man with a European education,
speaking both Russian and French) succeeded in escaping in this manner,
by heavily bribing the officials; but he is reported to have said that
had he known what frightful humiliations he would be subjected to, he
would rather have perished in the river.
A lady well known in the town, Madame Makeyeva, went to the governor,
with whom she was personally acquainted, to beg that her young Chinese
servant, who had been five years in her house, might remain with her.
This servant had been of the greatest value to the family; if anyone
were ill he nursed and tended them, watching by their bedside day and
night. But when General Gribsky found that it was for a Chinese Madame
Makeyeva was entreating, he cried, “A Chinaman!” and drawing his hand
across his throat, added, “That’s how we shall treat them all.” And when
Madame Makeyeva persisted in her entreaties, explaining further that the
man in question had long wished to become a Christian, the governor
merely answered, “I do not issue orders for either the imprisonment or
the release of these people, it has nothing to do with me”; following up
this with the declaration of his intention (which he subsequently
carried out) to lay the whole blame of the drowning and slaughtering on
the shoulders of his subordinates, Batarèvitch, prefect of police, and
Captain Volkovinsky.
The same lady had a similar reception from the highest spiritual
authority of the place, the Bishop of the Orthodox Church. When Madame
Makeyeva begged him on her knees to baptise her Chinese servant, this
apostle of Christian love told her drily that she should not intercede
for Chinamen, that it was not right to have them about one; finally
recommending her to go to the civil authorities, whose business it was.
The worldly power sent her to the spiritual, and the latter back to the
former; but after much difficulty she actually succeeded in gaining her
end. Few were so persevering in their efforts as she; I only found a
very few instances of Chinese being successfully interceded for by their
Russian employers, although I made very careful and exhaustive inquiries
on the subject. The Chinese and Manchurians of the native quarter found
no such advocates, and they were all drowned or otherwise murdered
without exception.
Apologists for the massacre were found even among people of culture, who
argued that even had there not been the danger that the Chinese would
set the town on fire, we were not called on to strengthen our enemies by
sending their compatriots to reinforce them, or to waste our own
provisions by keeping them under guard and so having to feed them. As to
the former excuse, the natives could have been rendered perfectly
harmless by being massed together in one place; and as for the latter,
the Chinese had ample provision for their extremely modest needs in
their own shops, which after their death were plundered by Cossacks,
police, and others.
In the attempt to justify their brutal action a false report was spread
by the police that arms, gunpowder, and even dynamite were found in the
Chinese shops and houses; and though this was never confirmed in any
way, many persons were only too ready to believe it. As a matter of
fact, the possibilities of loot, as well as the repudiation of debts
owed to Chinese creditors, played a large part in causing both the
massacre and the justifying of it. When the Chinese were arrested the
Cossacks and police took their money and ransacked their dwellings; and
not only the lower but the higher officials enriched themselves
considerably by this means, the booty that this or that police officer
or member of the local administration had obtained for his share being
discussed quite openly. Many debtors of the Chinese profited by the
terrible end of their unfortunate creditors, as it is not customary for
Chinese business men to keep written memoranda; their methods are based
upon personal trust, and their own honesty is proverbial. If in any
instances such memoranda did exist, care was taken that they should
disappear, in case any claim should afterwards be made by heirs possibly
existing in China; while on the other hand Russian creditors of the
Chinese repaid themselves a hundredfold, with the connivance of the
police. It would take too long to relate all the examples of the
wholesale looting that was carried on by “respectable” merchants and
others; but one or two typical instances may be recorded.
A rich landowner, proprietor of a large steam-mill, Buyanov by name, of
whom some Chinese had hired a warehouse for their goods, when the owners
of the property stored there had been drowned, put up a wooden hoarding
between the warehouse and the next house to it, in order that he might
possess himself of the dead men’s property unobserved by inquisitive
eyes. Another man of property, also named Buyanov, and a cousin of the
above, made a subterranean passage from his own dwelling to the shop of
a Chinaman who had lived with him, and conveyed the property of the
deceased to his own premises. And a tradesman named Prikastshikov simply
had the wares of a Chinaman who had hired a shop from him carried on
waggons through by-streets to his own shop in a different part of the
town, having made use of a duplicate key which was in his possession.
These two last cases came before the courts in Blagovèstshensk, and the
perpetrators of the thefts were punished; but the great majority of
these instances of plunder were never revealed, chiefly because the
police and the authorities were themselves interested in shielding the
guilty. After the drowning of the Chinese it was decided that the police
should take charge of their property till legal heirship should be
established, and this proved a source of much profit to the police
officials, as may be guessed when the character of our police is taken
into account, together with the fact that in the Chinese quarter were
some hundreds of shops and warehouses containing valuables worth many
millions. After the war the police authorities in a few cases
surrendered property (for a substantial consideration, of course,
sometimes amounting nearly to the value of the goods themselves,) to
Chinese who proved themselves to be the owners, having fortunately
survived, or their legitimate representatives; but it depended entirely
upon the ransom offered whether the police would recognise or reject
such claims, not upon any legal formalities. The calm way in which high
officials appropriated property left in their charge was exemplified by
the case of the deputy-_prìstav_ Shabanov, surprised by a gentleman, (a
justice of the peace who had been appointed guardian of a Chinese
property,) as he was in the act of removing several cartloads of the
goods in question from the place where they were stored. Although this
aroused considerable comment, and even came before the courts, the trial
was without result, and Shabanov was not even removed from his position
as deputy-_prìstav_.
* * * * *
During several successive days the bodies of the murdered Chinese went
floating down the Amur in such masses as made counting them difficult,
and covering a considerable expanse of the river. Yet at first no
mention was made of this in the two local newspapers, nor was there any
allusion to the fate of the Chinese inhabitants of the town. Only on the
fourth or fifth day after the holocaust did an article appear in _The
Amur Province_, expressing indignation at the cruel and gruesome affair.
This article was copied in Petersburg journals, and thus the civilised
world for the first time learned how these thousands of helpless people
had been done to death. The other organ of Blagovèstshensk, _The Amur
Gazette_, confined itself to the meagre announcement that “the Chinese
residing on Russian territory had been sent away, a suggestion having
been made to them that they should cross to the other side of the
river.” Grodekov, the governor-general of the province, informed the
authorities in Petersburg that “the Chinese throw their dead and wounded
into the river, and forty such corpses have been counted.” Thus is
history written!
With much the same amount of veracity various officials sent reports of
the hostilities between the Russians and the Chinese. They told of
battles that had never taken place, of countless Chinese hosts, which
they pretended had been annihilated, when in reality only women and
children had been seen, and so forth. In the Amur province, for example,
much amusement was caused by the report sent from Colonel Kanonovitch
stating that in the so-called “Pyàtaia Pad” he had overcome an immense
army of Chinese, for which exploit he received a decoration. It soon
transpired that in the place mentioned Kanonovitch had only encountered
two Japanese women!
But to return to Blagovèstshensk. There is no doubt that the drowning of
the Chinese took place not only with the foreknowledge, but by the
express order—though possibly only verbal—of General Gribsky, military
governor of the town. To avert suspicion of the fact, however, and in
order to have a justification of himself ready if need should arise, he
issued a proclamation some days after the massacre, saying that “reports
had reached” him “of the rough handling and even murder of unarmed
Chinese in and about the town.” “These crimes,” he proceeded, “have been
committed by inhabitants of the town, peasants of the villages around,
or Cossacks; and although these deeds were provoked by the treachery of
the Chinese, who had first commenced hostilities against the Russians,
any further instances of violence towards unarmed persons will be
punished severely.” But, together with this proclamation, after the
taking of Saghalien by the Russians, General Gribsky issued another, in
which—as head of the Cossack forces—he ordered the Cossacks to go across
to the Chinese shore and there “annihilate all the Chinese bands.” In
other words, he told the Cossacks to massacre the helpless Chinese who
were left in the place after the flight of the troops; for when once
Saghalien had fallen, no _armed_ bands were left on the right bank of
the Amur.
General Gribsky carried his hypocrisy so far as to appoint a commission
to inquire into “the cases of violence towards peaceful Chinese.” But as
this commission would have had to report that the drowning and murder of
peaceful Chinese had been carried out under his own instructions,
naturally its findings could not be published. So, after the lapse of
several months, General Gribsky declared that from the report made to
him by the commission it was evident that the cause of the unfortunate
events which had occurred had been a want of unity among the officials
to whom he had entrusted the arrangement of affairs. This declaration
repeats almost word for word the pronouncement of the present Tsar,
Nicholas II., after the death of thousands on the plain of Hodinsky at
the time of his coronation; the cause of which the Tsar also found to
have been a lack of unity in the arrangements. General Gribsky evidently
wished to suggest that if on an occasion of holiday-making, wholesale
deaths had occurred in this way, nobody could really be held responsible
for the killing of Chinese during the bombardment of Blagovèstshensk.
And nobody was ever brought to book; General Gribsky and all his
subordinates remained on at Blagovèstshensk in their divers positions.
It came to light eventually that various authorities throughout the
province had sent direct written instructions to put the Chinese to
death; and that killing the unfortunate people singly and wholesale had
been carried out in many villages by the peasants, and in Cossack
settlements by the Cossacks. Several officials won notoriety by their
instructions to their subordinates on this head—Volkovinsky (the colonel
of Cossacks), Captain Tusslukov, and the _stanovoi prìstav_ (commissary
of rural police) Volkov, among others.
Obedient to the will of their superiors, the Russian peasants and
Cossacks armed themselves as they could, and began the work of
destruction. I cannot undertake to describe what went on in the
Manchurian territory on the Seya—a strip of land not far from
Blagovèstshensk, the inhabitants of which, though living on Russian
soil, were Chinese subjects and (by a diplomatic arrangement) paid taxes
to China. Enough to say that altogether sixty-eight villages were burnt
to the ground, that of their inhabitants, some were drowned, some
barbarously murdered, that property was looted, and cattle were driven
off by the Russians. In perpetrating these and other brutalities—either
on their own initiative or following out instructions—our peasants
thoroughly believed that they were fulfilling their duty as loyal
subjects. “That is how we ought to serve our Tsar and country,” one
stalwart hero concluded his narrative. Persons who in time of peace were
merciful even to dumb animals were changed by those days of horror into
stark barbarians. Here is an example: In one Russian village an old
Chinaman had lived for years in the service of a shepherd, and all the
peasants were most friendly with him. The report reached them that “all
Chinese must be killed.” They therefore called a village council and
consulted as to what should be done with the one Chinaman in the place;
and although everyone agreed that he was a good and honest old man, it
was decided that he must be put to death. When the people with whom he
lived broke the news to him he humbly submitted to the decree, only
begging that they would accompany him to the place where he was to die.
“I am a lonely old man,” he said. “I have neither kith nor kin. Do you
replace my family and go with me to the grave, as is the custom of my
people.”
The shepherd and his wife acceded to his request, and went with him to
the outskirts of the village, where the peasants then slew the
unresisting old man.
After a fortnight or so of these massacres, when the thirst for blood
began to be appeased, and the authorities ceased to spur the people on
to deeds of violence, they began to collect together and bring into the
town the few Chinese who remained alive, half-dead with hunger and mad
with terror. These poor wretches, scarcely able to move for exhaustion,
and those of the Chinese townspeople who for one reason or another had
been allowed to survive—some few dozen persons—were all that remained of
the many thousand Chinese who had dwelt in Blagovèstshensk and the
neighbourhood.
It was not difficult to foresee what character the war would assume when
our soldiers and Cossacks passed over into Chinese territory. Scarcely
had they crossed the Amur on August 3rd and taken possession of
Saghalien (from which place the inhabitants had fled betimes to the
interior of the country), when they set everything on fire. During the
two following nights the flames illuminated the river for a long
distance; and in place of a prosperous community which supplied
Blagovèstshenk with foodstuffs at very moderate rates, nothing was to be
seen on the Chinese bank but blackened posts and crumbling ruins.
The entry of our army into Manchuria was not merely signalised by
flaming dwellings; nothing and nobody was spared. Women, children, and
the aged were pitilessly slaughtered, young girls violated and then
slain. Such were the deeds of our “heroes,” as General Grodekov in his
despatches called these warriors, for whose “brave deeds” he “could not
find words to express his admiration”! But even some of his officers
themselves told with a shudder of the bloodthirsty instincts developed
by these “heroes” in a war against unarmed men, women, and children on
Chinese soil. A rich and thickly-populated land was reduced in a few
months to a barren desert, where charred ruins were visible here and
there, and corpses were left to the wolves and vultures.
When indignation is expressed at these atrocities it is customary to
meet with the excuse, “Read the accounts of the cruelties practised by
Germans, French, and English in China. If more civilised races behave
so, what can be expected from us less cultivated Russians?” It is hard
to answer this. The white races did indeed prove during that terrible
war with “barbaric China,” as they contemptuously say, the full worth of
their boasted civilisation. On the threshold of the twentieth century
average Europeans showed themselves scarcely less barbarous than the
hordes of Tamerlane and Tchengis-Khan.
All this shocking achievement of Russian officialdom, either directly or
indirectly authorised, of course went unpunished. But no! I must let the
exact truth have its way. General Gribsky held a judicial inquiry into
the conduct of his subordinates (who had carried out his own orders),
and the Russian newspapers shortly afterwards informed their readers
that “the chief of police in Blagovèstshensk had been sentenced to three
months’ imprisonment”—for the drowning, shooting, or stabbing of from
ten to fifteen thousand helpless and inoffensive Chinese!