PRISON LIFE IN SIBERIA—_continued_.
The Irkutsk prison—Comparative liberty of
prisoners—Incongruities of prison life—The “shops”—Prison
artists.
[Illustration: THE RECREATION GROUND, IRKUTSK PRISON.]
There was always so much to see and do in Irkutsk, that the five weeks I
spent there were fully occupied. The prison life of Siberia has always
interested me highly, for I had read so much of it before coming to the
country that I never missed an opportunity of seeing as much of it as
possible. One of my first excursions, therefore, was to the gaol here. As
at Yeniseisk and Krasnoiarsk, the officials were politeness itself, and
although the _ostrog_ here is a really important one, containing as it
does no less than twelve hundred prisoners (owing to the recent burning
of the Alexandroffsky prison), I experienced not the slightest difficulty
in being shown all there was to be seen. The authorities offered me every
assistance in their power, and no secret whatever was made of it; the
governor-general of Irkutsk, to whom my mission as a special artist and
correspondent was well known, even going so far as to send me a courteous
message, saying that he would be pleased to let me see all I wished of
the prison life, and hoped that I would only write the exact truth about
it! So I spent a long morning there, walking round with the director, the
doctor, and other officials, and saw and sketched as much as I wished,
and only had to ask to be told all I wanted to know.
[Illustration: MARRIED PRISONERS WAITING TO BE SERVED WITH NEW CLOTHES ON
ARRIVAL AT THE PRISON AT IRKUTSK.
[_To face p. 193_]
What struck me most in the internal arrangements was the comparative
liberty that existed inside the vast building; for, with the exception
of a few prisoners in solitary confinement, all seemed free to roam
about in the corridors or the large quadrangle to their hearts’ content;
and although a warder with a large bunch of keys accompanied us on our
round, in no case did he find occasion to use them, for all the doors
were unlocked. I was informed that it is only at night the prisoners are
locked in. The system is certainly a curious one. Of course the men in
the “solitary” cells were not allowed this sort of liberty.
The description I have given of the Yeniseisk prison will almost suffice
for the Irkutsk one as well, with the exception that the various
“halls,” or “dormitories,” there were infinitely better than those
here, which—probably on account of their overcrowded state—were in a
filthy condition, and little better than human pigsties. Every spot was
occupied, and the stench was awful in consequence, for this is an old
prison as compared with that at Yeniseisk. I was much astonished to see
dogs, cats, and even pigeons and doves in some “halls,” and on inquiry
was informed that prisoners are allowed their “pets,” and that each
crowd had its special and distinctive favourites, fed out of the general
“mess”! It was quite touching to see some hulking ruffian loafing about
in the sunshine with a tiny kitten in his arms, or to hear the cooing
of turtle-doves in some gloomy recess of a filthy cell. Although these
incongruities of prison life struck me as being very extraordinary, they
passed unnoticed by my companions, who were surprised when I drew their
attention to them and observed how much more severe the English prison
system is.
After going the round of the “halls” we next visited the workshops. As
I told you in a previous chapter, work in a Siberian prison is purely
optional; a man can be as lazy as he likes, or else he can set to
and earn a little money at his particular trade, if he has one, and
such work is required. There are two kinds of work permitted by the
Government—work in the prison itself in the various workshops provided
for the different trades, and outdoor work away from the prison. In the
Irkutsk prison almost every trade was not only represented but well
employed also, for in many of the workshops I was informed the men were
so busy with orders on hand that for the moment they could undertake no
more. All the work being carried out was for townspeople. Of the money
thus earned, a certain percentage goes to the Government, and the rest is
divided equally among the men of the atelier.
We visited all the “shops,” and it was quite refreshing to see the
men hard at work, and working cheerfully together—as well they might,
considering that it is to their mutual advantage to do so. They were
working evidently under no restraint whatever, for I noticed no guards
about. I was told that one could get almost anything made here—for in
the “shops” were tailors, hatters, bootmakers, smiths, locksmiths,
carpenters, cabinet-makers, cigarette-makers, jewellers, engravers, and
even artists; for in the prison, at the time I visited it, were two
men convicted of uttering false banknotes, and who, having artistic
proclivities, passed their time in painting—the one, portraits from
photographs; the other, _bons Dieux_, or the sacred pictures so dear to
the Greek Church. I saw the portrait-painter at work in the same room
as the cigarette-makers, and much out of place here did the easel and
canvas look, almost as much so as the artist himself, in his prison garb,
with a large palette and bunch of brushes and mahl-stick in his hand. The
fellow spoke German fluently, so we had a talk together, as he was not
at all reticent, and did not seem to feel his position a little bit. He
informed me that he always had as much work to do as he could possibly
get through, so he never found the time hang heavily on his hands. This
work—which, by the way, was very indifferent—I further learnt, was mostly
for local photographers.
The other “artist,” whom we subsequently visited, was quite a “swell,”
for he was in solitary confinement, and had been permitted to fit up
his small cell quite as a studio. There were shelves on the walls full
of half-completed pictures, a lot of the usual paraphernalia of art lay
about, while in one corner hung a large framed oil-painting, a copy
of a celebrated picture I knew well through the recently published
photogravures of it in London—a beautiful composition, and looking
strangely incongruous in so gruesome and dismal a place, for the only
light entered by a small, heavily grated window high up near the ceiling.
This gentleman, who seemed quite as busy as the portrait-painter, was,
however, quite a different character, and as reticent and moody as the
other was talkative, for when the director asked him if he did not speak
French or German so that I could ask him a few questions, he curtly
replied that he had forgotten whether he ever did or not, for he was now
a “number,” no longer a man. I afterwards learnt that both these men,
though convicted, were not as yet sentenced, and that probably they would
be sent for an indefinite number of years to hard labour in one of the
Government mines, and that it was only pending their sentence that they
were allowed to go on with their painting, though, my informant added,
with a smile, they would probably be able to do a little even at the
mines if they behaved themselves!
With so much labour of all sorts to be got almost for the asking, it
may be imagined how _exploitée_ the prison is by local tradesmen, who
thus get their work done by these “unfortunates” at probably less than a
third of what it would cost them if they employed town labour. I got a
large double brass seal made, and engraved at both ends, for less than
2_s._ 6_d._, and then, when it was finished, the governor ordered the
prisoner who had made it to engrave my initials on my stick into the
bargain, which the fellow did without a word of grumbling. He looked
very grateful, however, when I slipped a few extra kopeks into his hand
afterwards.
The forged banknote which I give in facsimile was the work of a prison
artist. All its elaborate pen-and-ink work represents when complete only
the sum of five roubles (10_s._). Yet for this small amount a long term
of imprisonment was risked! (and got).
[Illustration: THE PRISON ARTIST.
[_To face p. 196._]
[Illustration: _Facsimile of a pen-and-ink Forgery of a Russian Bank
Note.—Front view._
_Sampson Low, Marston & Co. Ltd. Héliog Lemercier & Cie Paris._]
[Illustration: _Facsimile of a pen-and-ink Forgery of a Russian Bank
Note.—Back view._
_Sampson Low, Marston & Co. Ltd. Héliog Lemercier & Cie Paris._]