THE FLIGHT.
AN ATTEMPTED FLIGHT--MY ROUTE--MY FUNDS--MY DRESS--THE SLEDGE--A
RUSSIAN THEFT--THE JOURNEY--IRBITE--ON FOOT--A NIGHT’S
LODGING--DANGER--COLD AND FAMINE--PAOUDA--THE IZBOUCHKA--THE CREST OF
THE OURALS--LOST IN THE FOREST--SLEEP--ALMS--VÉLIKI-OUSTIONG.
There had been passed by the Emperor Nicholas, in the autumn of the
year 1845, a decree, which I have already referred to, and of which
the object was to aggravate the condition of the exiles in Siberia, by
tightening round them the fetters which time and custom had slackened,
and which become loose through the sheer impossibility of enforcing
in all its strictness the severe law of the _katorga_. Commissions
nominated for the purpose now visited all the penal settlements, and
proposed new measures of severity in these places; and the enforced
cohabitation in the barracks of all convicts, without any exceptions
whatever, was the first point in which it was thought possible and
desirable to yield to the present savage disposition of the Tzar.
All this induced me to persist in the project which I had already
conceived, and which had been long fructifying in my mind. At the very
moment in which I had signed at Kiow the formula of the sentence which
condemned me to convict labour for the rest of my natural life, I had
formed the determination of flying from such an accursed sojourn and
lot; and a vague hope of being again seen in the land of the living
and among free men had entered my mind. The hard work to which I was
set, during the first period of my _katorga_, was not calculated to
encourage me; but my hopes rose as soon as I was able to have more
relations with men and things, that is, as soon as I became a clerk
in the counting-house of the establishment at Ekaterinski-Zavod; and,
as early as the summer of 1845, I made two attempts, both of which
were frustrated at the very outset, without, however, awakening any
suspicion as to my intentions.
It was in the month of June that I noticed a little boat, which lay on
the banks of the Irtiche, or floated on its waters, and which was very
often forgotten, and not drawn up at night. I thought that I might take
advantage of this skiff, and let the stream carry me to Tobolsk; but
hardly had I, on one dark night, untied the boat, and given due or two
strokes with the oars, than the moon broke through the clouds, flooding
the landscape with a dangerous light; and at the same time I heard
the sound of the inspector’s (_smotritel_) voice, as he walked on the
banks, with one or two of the other officials. It was all over with me
for that time, and I gently crept back to land. In the following month
I espied the same skiff, and in a much more favourable situation--upon
a lake, at some distance from our factory, which, through a canal,
communicated with the Irtiche. But this second attempt miscarried also,
and that by reason of an unsurmountable and natural obstacle; for, at
nightfall, the air at this time of year becomes so suddenly cooled that
dense columns of vapour are caught up, and they are so thick and so
close that one cannot see or distinguish anything at the distance of
two feet--a phenomenon which is not uncommon in summer on the waters
of Siberia. In vain now did I push my boat to every side and in every
direction. The fog prevented my finding the opening of the canal into
the Irtiche, and only as the day began to dawn did I discover the issue
so long and so vainly sought. It was then too late, and I thought
myself lucky in being able to get back to my lodging without let or
hindrance; and from that time I abandoned every thought of confiding
myself to the inclement waters of the Irtiche, but I set myself not the
less persistently to ripen and consolidate the plans for my intended
flight.
The first point to be considered, and upon which I had first to fix
my attention, was the direction I ought to select for my perilous
journey. The trunk road, which was the most natural, and presented
itself before all the others, and which, from the heart of Siberia,
would have taken me into the centre of Russia Proper, was, as I saw at
once, the one least fitted for my purpose. The law there maintains a
constant and active watch, and is assisted very often both by the zeal
and by the rapacity of the natives, who sometimes find it profitable
to take a shot from behind a hedge at some convict breaking through
his ban. Indeed, among the people, especially among the Tatars, there
is a popular saying, ‘He who kills a squirrel only gets one skin,
but he who kills a _varnak_ gets three--his coat, his shirt, and his
skin.’ Many other routes, of course, were to be found, and in very
different directions. I could traverse Eastern Siberia, by Irkutsk and
Nertchinsk, as far as the Sea of Okhotsk, and there seek some vessel,
which would have carried me to the ports of the United States or to
California. I might turn towards the south, crossing the steppes of the
Kirghis, and arriving in Boukhara, whence I could reach the confines of
British India. On the other side, the Oural River, if I had the good
fortune to touch its source, might have carried me on its waters into
the Caspian Sea, and allowed me to take refuge in Daghestan, among
the Circassians. Finally, a fourth route remained to me, by which,
after crossing the Oural chain, and reaching Oufa, in the government
of Orenbourg, I might find the Volga, at a point somewhat lower than
that at which a canal unites it with the Don, and the latter river
would have led me to the Sea of Azov; and then, according to my wish,
I might have repaired either to Turkey in Europe or to Turkey in Asia,
or even into the western parts of Circassia. For reasons which it would
take me too long to set down here, I found that I ought to give up all
and each of these four tracks; and I resolved to seek for my liberty
by way of the north, and across the Oural Mountains, and to press on
over the steppes of Petchora and Archangel. This path was the least
frequented, and for this reason only it was the safest. Moreover, it
had the immense advantage of being the shortest; for, if I once touched
at Archangel, it appeared to me an impossibility that, among the four
or five thousand ships in the port, mostly all foreign ones, not one
should be found willing to take on board a political refugee, flying
from the _katorga_. It was then to these districts of the far north,
and to the shores and borders of the White Sea, that I now directed
my most minute investigations, although I also lost no opportunity of
acquiring information as to any of the other directions, in case chance
or fate should impel me in their way. Our bagnio was cosmopolitan
enough in its character, and soon, from convicts gathered from all
parts of the empire, I acquired a very exact knowledge of the manners
and customs of all the Russias; but my conversations with the merchants
and travellers, who, from north and south, from east and from west,
passed through or frequented Ekaterinski-Zavod, chiefly helped to
complete the education of a scholar who appeared to be careless and
apathetic, but who was really greedy for every bit of information he
could extract.
The exile who combines in his mind different plans of escape is
absorbed in an amazing variety of calculations about very small
matters, and it is only the sum total of his thoughts and designs
which can present any objects of interest to the reader. Slowly and
with difficulty I succeeded in gathering together the articles which I
knew to be indispensable to my journey. Among these, and in the first
rank, figured a passport. Of these documents there are two kinds in use
among the Siberians, for these people have the taste, which is common
among all the Russians, for making long peregrinations in the empire.
There is first a pass, which is good only for distances comparatively
short, and which has only a short time to run; there is also the
passport of great importance, which is a very different matter, being
issued by the higher powers and on stamped paper--it is known as the
_plakatny_. I succeeded in forging both the one and the other, for, by
men who have once learnt to like and to cultivate them, certain arts
are carried on and plied even in the convicts’ barrack; and thus it was
that I obtained from a friend, a clever coiner of false money, and in
return for a few roubles, a capital seal with the arms of his imperial
majesty. Then as to the sheet of stamped paper, it was easy for me
to appropriate one from the mass which I blackened every day in the
office for the public use, and thus I had a _plakatny_ at my service.
Slowly and with difficulty too I procured the dress and the accessories
needful for my disguise, which was to be effected both morally and
physically, for I had to transform myself into a native, a ‘man of
Siberia’ (_sbirski tcheloviék_), as they say in Russia. Ever since my
arrival at Ekaterinski-Zavod, or rather even before that time, and from
the time I left Kiow, I had purposely allowed my beard to grow, and it
had now got to a respectable and perfectly orthodox length. After many
attempts I furthermore became possessed of a wig, a Siberian one, be
it understood--one of those sheepskins with the curls inside, which
are worn in this country to keep out the intense cold; and, thanks
to these means, I trusted to make my personal appearance such as was
most unlikely to be recognised. In the last place, I may mention that,
after deducting the cost of these articles, there remained to me the
sum of 180 roubles (in assignats[5]), that is, about 200 francs--a
very slender sum for so long a journey, and one which, through a sad
accident, was yet to be greatly diminished.
I had not disguised from myself in any way the difficulties of my
undertaking, nor yet the dangers to which at every step I was to be
exposed. I also knew that I could not even reckon on the poignard
which I carried as a last and perfectly reliable means of safety,
for, in spite of much that one hears, it is not always in one’s power
to put an end to one’s life. I might be arrested in my sleep, or in
some one of those times of moral prostration which follow on very
prolonged effort and tension of body or of mind, and when a man, by
loss of nervous power, is prevented from disposing of his existence.
One thought, however, sustained me, and while it added greatly to the
difficulties of my situation, it much lightened my conscience--it was
the vow I had made not to reveal my secret to a single human being
until, standing on a free soil, I could do so with safety to them.
I determined not to ask for help, protection, or advice from any
living soul until I had passed the limits of the Tzar’s dominions,
and rather to give up my own hoped-for salvation than to become the
cause of peril and suffering to one of my fellow-men. During my stay
at Kaminieç I had implicated more than one of my poor compatriots in
my own bitter lot, but then I believed myself to be on a mission for
the general weal: now, the only object I had in view was my personal
safety at the time, and my freedom hereafter; and I resolved that, for
their accomplishment, I would rely on no one but on myself. God has
vouchsafed to me the strength to persevere in this resolution to the
end. It seemed to me to be the only honest and justifiable course;
and it has perhaps been on account of this vow, made from the very
starting point, that He has extended over me His protecting Arm.
By the last days of January my preparations were finished, and the
time seemed peculiarly favourable for my start, because there was soon
to be held at Terbite, at the foot of the Oural range, one of those
great fairs which are peculiar to Eastern Russia, where centres of
trade are few and far between. The immense distances which have to be
crossed, and the difficulties in the way of even the most ordinary
communications between one place and another, make fairs of this sort
a real _colluvies gentium_, and the roads are covered with innumerable
trains of merchandise, and with a great concourse of travellers.
Flattering myself with the hope that I might be lost in such a movement
of people and tribes, I lost no time in profiting by the circumstance,
and on February 8th, 1846, I set out.
I had on three shirts, the coloured one being, after the Russian
fashion, pulled over the trowsers: I had a waistcoat and trowsers of
thick cloth, and over all a little burnous (_armiak_) of sheepskin,
well tallowed, which hung down to my knees, while great boots with tops
strongly tarred completed my costume. A girdle of red, white, and black
worsted was tied round my waist, and over my wig I had one of those red
velvet caps, edged with fur, which are worn on holiday time by Siberian
peasants of any affluence, and by commercial travellers. Besides all
this, I was wrapped in a wide pelisse, of which the collar, turned
up and tied by a red handkerchief round the neck, served less to keep
out the cold than to hide my face. I carried a bag in my hand, and in
it I had put a second pair of boots, a fourth shirt, a pair of blue
trowsers, such as are worn in the country in summer, some bread, and
some dried fish. A large dagger was slipped into the sheath of my right
boot; my money was under my waistcoat in assignats of five or ten
roubles; and, to conclude, in my hands, which were covered with stout
gloves of skin, with the hair inside, I held a strong knotted stick.
Thus equipped I stole away at eventide from the settlement of
Ekaterinski-Zavod by a cross-road. It was freezing very hard, and the
rime which hung in the air sparkled in the moonlight. I soon passed my
Rubicon, the Irtiche, whose frozen shield I crunched under my feet, and
with hasty steps, which the weight of my dress alone checked, I took
the road to Tara, a small market town at about twelve kilometres from
the place where I had been kept. The winter nights, I said to myself,
are very long in Siberia; how many miles shall I be able to make before
daylight appears to make them aware of my flight? and what shall I do
when it dawns?
I had hardly crossed the Irtiche when I heard the sound of a sledge
coming up behind me. I shuddered, but determined to await the nocturnal
traveller, and, as happened more than once during my hazardous
wanderings, that which I dreaded as a danger became the unexpected
means of saving myself. ‘Where are you going?’ asked the peasant who
drove the sledge, and who had drawn up beside me.
‘To Tara. Where do you come from?’
‘From the hamlet of Zalivina. Give me sixty kopeks (tenpence) and I
will take you to Tara, for I am going there myself.’
‘No; that is too dear, but I will give you fifty kopeks if you like to
take me for that.’
‘Well, so be it; look sharp, my friend!’
I seated myself beside him, and we started at a gallop. My companion
was in a hurry to get home; the road covered by snow, which the frost
had hardened, was as smooth as a mirror, and the piercing cold seemed
to give wings to the horses. At the end of half an hour we were at
Tara, where my peasant put me down in one of the streets of the town
and went his way. Now alone, I went up to the first posting-house, and
called in Russian fashion through the window, as loud as I could:
‘Have you any horses?’
‘Where are they to go?’
‘To the fair at Irbite.’
‘Yes, we have some.’
‘A pair?’
‘Yes, a pair.’
‘How much a verste?’
‘Eight kopeks.’
‘I won’t give so much; say six kopeks.’
‘What can we say? Done! Presently.’
In a few minutes the horses were ready and put to a sledge. ‘Where do
you come from?’ they asked me.
‘From Tomsk: I am a clerk of N----’ (I named somebody), my principal
has gone on before me to Irbite; but, you see, I had to stay behind for
some little affairs of my own, and now I am horribly late, and I am
afraid my chief will be angry; if you will drive quickly you shall have
something for yourself.’
The peasant whistled, and the horses went off like an arrow. Suddenly
the sky became overcast, and a heavy snow falling, the peasant not only
lost his way but could not find it again. After having wandered about
in many wrong directions, we were obliged to halt and pass the rest
of the night in the forest. I pretended to be furiously angry, and my
driver, full of excuses, began to ask my pardon. I shall not attempt to
describe the agony of that night, passed as it was sitting in a sledge,
in the middle of a snow storm, and at the distance of at most four
leagues from Ekaterinski-Zavod: at every moment I seemed to hear the
bells of the _kibitkas_ that were in full pursuit of me. At last the
day began to redden in the east. ‘Now, go back to Tara,’ I said to the
peasant; ‘I will take another sledge there, and you, you fool! shall
not have a farthing, and I will hand you over to the police for having
made me lose my time in this way.’ The countryman, much abashed,
turned to go back to Tara, but hardly had we gone a verste when he
stopped, looked all round, and pointing out some traces of a road under
the heap of snow, he cried:
‘There is the road we ought to have taken!’
‘Get on, then,’ I said, ‘and thank God!’
From this moment my man did his best to make up for the lost time;
but a horrible idea crossed my mind, I remembered our hapless Colonel
Wysoçki, who, after having been detained as I was the whole night in a
wood, was given up to the gendarmes by his driver. Perhaps my peasant,
I said to myself, meditates to betray me in like manner, and my hand
mechanically sought my dagger; but it was a vain terror and an unjust
suspicion. He soon stopped at a friend’s house, where I had some tea,
and where I was provided at the same rate with horses to continue my
journey. Thus I went on my way, changing horses at very reasonable
sums, until I arrived late at night at a village called Soldatskaïa,
where I became the victim of a theft as audacious on the part of the
thief as it was painful to me. I happened to have no change to pay the
driver, and along with him I squeezed my way into a pot-house where
there were a number of tipsy people, for it was near the end of the
carnival. I pulled two or three bank notes from under my waistcoat,
and I was going to give them to the landlord to get them changed, when
a sudden move in the crowd, whether purposely or not I cannot say,
shoved me back from the table on which I had laid down the papers, and
they were carried off in a second. In vain I called out, the thief was
not to be discovered, and as I did not dare really to summon the police
to my assistance, I was obliged to resign myself to my fate, although I
had lost some forty roubles in notes, and (what added much more to my
regrets, I might almost say to my terror) two papers had disappeared
with them, which were of inestimable value to me, the one a memorandum
on which I had marked with the greatest minuteness all the towns and
villages through which I had to pass on my way to Archangel, the other
that passport on stamped paper which it had cost me so much trouble to
fabricate....
Thus, at the commencement, and in the first day of my flight, I had
lost a quarter of the small sum which I had saved for my travels, the
note which was to have been the map and guide of my wanderings, and the
_plakatny_, the only document which I could show to disarm the first
suspicions of any curious persons. I was in despair!
One thing above all others was I believe the main cause of the success
of the perilous task of my evasion, compelling me to persevere in
spite of all obstacles and mistakes, and obliging me to take courage
in spite of myself--this was the manifest impossibility of abandoning
my undertaking. Having once fled from Ekaterinski-Zavod, I should
certainly incur the same fate, whether captured at Tara or among
the Oural Mountains, among the steppes of Petchora or in the port of
Archangel, while every step I took brought me nearer to safety and
deliverance. Thus no room was left for hesitation or regret, and, in
spite of the irreparable loss which I had just sustained, I held on
my way, and soon, striking into the high road to Irbite, I found, in
the sudden animation of the landscape, a sight calculated to distract
my eyes, and to inspire my mind with a certain degree of confidence.
All over that vast and snow-covered plain, to the left of which ever
since I passed Tioumen the wooded slopes of the Oural chain began to
be defined, swarmed an innumerable mass of sledges, either going or
returning from the fair. They were full of goods and _yamstchiks_ (or
peasants who undertake to carry merchandise), and were whirled along by
those Siberian horses whose pace is only to be equalled by the skill
of their drivers. The month of February is a harvest time for the
dwellers in these districts, who make, by the hire of their horses and
sledges at the time of the fair at Irbite, the largest of their yearly
gains. They display then all the good humour and the noisy gaiety which
can animate an active population at the end of the dead season of the
year. I mingled my voice with the sharp cries and piercing calls of the
_yamstchiks_; I greeted every passenger, regarding each in the bottom
of my heart as an involuntary auxiliary of my flight, for the more the
number of men, horses, and sledges increased, the more I took courage.
How, I asked myself, could they distinguish in this vast crowd of
merchants, bagmen, clerks and peasants one solitary political criminal
who seeks his liberty by flight? how pursue me through this moving and
ever-changing Babel? It would be about as likely and as useful to try
(as we say in our proverb of the Ukraine) ‘to follow and catch the wind
upon the steppes.’
In order to make the reader understand how rapid was my flight, which
differed in no way from the pace of the other Siberians on the road, it
will suffice to say that, on the third day of my evasion, and in spite
of having spent a night in the forest of Tara, I found myself, late
in the evening, at the gates of Irbite, 4,000 kilometres distant from
Ekaterinski-Zavod. ‘Stop, and show your passport!’ called the sentry;
luckily, he added immediately, ‘Give me twenty kopeks, and through with
you.’ It may be imagined with what alacrity I satisfied the demands
of a law so opportunely modified, and I soon reached an inn, where at
first I was refused admittance, because there was no room. After some
time, however, I was received, on declaring that I only wished to pass
one night on the premises, being sure, I said, of finding out next day
where my master was, with whom I was to lodge for the rest of the time.
I went out soon after, pretending to go to the police station, and,
when I reappeared, said I had left my papers there, and would have
them returned to me next day. The _izba_, or large room in which we all
sat, was as full of _yamstchiks_ as it could hold, and the smell of
tar was enough to stifle one. I talked much of my principal, of _our_
affairs, and did my best to share in a noisy meal of Siberian dishes;
that is to say, of turnip soup, dried fish, oatmeal gruel mixed with
oil, and pickled cabbages. When the repast was over, each man paid his
share of the reckoning to the landlord, and then prepared a bed for
himself as best he could in the _izba_. Some stretched themselves upon
the stove, some on straw, some on the ground, some on benches, and some
under them. I did as I saw the others do, but sleep never came near
my eyes; so many hopes and so many fears chased each other through my
mind, that rest was impossible.
Very early in the morning I rose, and, like all my companions,
performed, in the most orthodox fashion, the three bows which every one
is expected to make to the holy images that never fail to occupy the
corners of a Russian dwelling; then, taking my bag on my back, I went
out under pretence of seeking my principal. In spite of the earliness
of the hour, the square was already very animated. Irbite is a town of
a tolerably pleasing appearance, in spite of its houses being built
entirely of wood. The streets are wide, the squares and market-places
spacious. On every side stood booths constructed after the national
fashion of thin planks, and intended to last only during the fair.
Sledges, drawn up like regiments, contained bales of goods; and those
which had been already emptied were now piled up in heaps, one on the
top of the other. I am sure that there were several thousands of these
vehicles. For my part, I did little more than go across the town, as
many reasons weighed with me, and prevented my stopping there for any
length of time--the chief reason being my fear of meeting some one of
the many acquaintances I had made at Ekaterinski-Zavod. I had no wish
to put my disguise to the proof, unless there was an absolute necessity
for so doing. I therefore bought some loaves of bread and some salt
in a shop, put them into my bag, and left the town by an opposite
gate from the one by which I had entered it, and where the sentry did
not, luckily, think it right to ask me any questions whatever. The
expenses which I had incurred in hiring horses to Irbite, as well as
the theft of which I had been the victim, had seriously diminished my
slender finances; and at this moment I stood possessed of no more than
75 roubles in assignats, and how was I to reach France by means of so
small a sum? It was clear that for the future I must trust to my own
legs, not to say to my own hands also, if I chanced to come in the way
of earning anything in my travels.
The winter of this year, 1846, was one of great severity, and the
snow fell in such quantities that I saw more than one pretty solidly
built house fall in from its weight; indeed, within the memory of
the Siberians, there had not been so hard a winter. On the morning,
however, of the day on which I left Irbite, the air appeared to me to
be rather milder; but then the snow began to fall, and it came down in
such style, so thick and so heavy, that I could not see where I was
going. It was a strange sensation to stand thus alone in the middle
of these wastes, of which the silence is almost always unbroken, and
to be covered with snow flakes, from which I vainly tried to shake
myself free, while walking became very fatiguing in the soft heaps
which got bigger at every moment. I managed, however, not to lose my
way, and every now and then a _yamstchik_ or two, driving past in his
sledge, helped to clear it before me again, till, about mid-day, the
snow began to cease, and my march became less impeded. As a general
rule, I avoided the villages, but when it was necessary to pass one, I
walked straight along the street, as if I belonged to the country, and
did not require to ask my way; and if grave doubts arose in my mind
as to which road to take, it was only at the last house of the hamlet
that I ventured to ask any questions. When I felt hungry, I pulled a
piece of frozen bread out of my bag, and ate it as I walked along, or
sat resting at the foot of a tree, in the most remote part of a wood.
When I was thirsty, I sought to slake my thirst at the holes in the ice
on pools and ponds, which the Siberians constantly make in order to
water their cattle; or, sometimes I had to content myself with letting
snow dissolve in my mouth, although that plan was far from being a
satisfactory one. My first day on foot out of Irbite was very trying,
and the evening found me completely exhausted. My heavy dress had added
greatly to my distress in walking, and yet I knew that I dared not part
with it. When night fell, I sought the heart of the forest, and there
prepared a sleeping-place for myself. I knew how the Ostiaks cover
themselves when asleep in their frozen deserts. They simply scoop out
a deep hole in a big snow wreath, and there find a bed, which, though
certainly hard, is not the less a perfectly warm one. I did in like
fashion, and soon found the repose of which I stood greatly in need.
On waking next morning, I felt extremely uncomfortable, and found that
my feet were frozen. Not quite familiar with the niceties of Ostiak
bed making, I had been imprudent enough, in covering myself with my
pelisse, to keep the furry side next to my body, and the heat thus
developed had completely melted the snow, and exposed my feet to the
low temperature of the dawn. I resolved to profit by this lesson for
the future, and, in the meantime, tried to bring the circulation back
by walking and running, in which I was, fortunately, successful. By
mid-day, to my sorrow, the wind rose very high--a truly Siberian wind,
dry and icy, seeming to blind one as it cuts one’s eyes, and sweeping
the heaps of snow before it, so as to obliterate in a few minutes
every trace of the best beaten road. The natives are accustomed, as
soon as winter sets in, to mark their tracks on each side by pines and
pine branches stuck into the snow at short distances from one another;
but this season the avalanches had been so numerous that, in most
places, they more than hid the signal branches. I presently perceived
that I had completely lost my way. Plunging about in the snow up to my
waist, sometimes up to my neck, I began to think I must perish there
from hunger and from cold; but by evening I came on a road again, and,
mercifully for me, it was the very one I ought to take, and for which I
was in search. It was quite late, when I saw a small detached cottage,
near a village, with a young woman standing on its doorstep. The hope
of finding a resting-place got the better of all my hesitation; I went
up to the woman, and asked her if she would give me a night’s lodging.
She made no difficulty about it, and took me into the _izba_, where
her old mother sat. I made her the usual greeting, and, in reply to
the usual questions ‘where I came from,’ and ‘whether the Lord God was
leading me?’ I replied that I came from the government of Tobolsk, and
that I was on my way to Bohotole, to look for work. The establishment
at Bohotole is an iron foundry belonging to the Russian government,
and situated far north of Verkhouterie, among the Oural Mountains;
it attracts great numbers of workpeople from the provinces of Perm
and of Tobolsk. While the women prepared some food for me, I spread
my clothes and my linen before the fire, and, having dried them, and
appeased my hunger, I stretched myself on a bench with an indescribable
sense of comfort and happiness. I believed that I had neglected no
precautions, for, after repeating to myself my Catholic prayers, I had
made the orthodox triple salutation, or _poklony_, to the holy images;
and yet some suspicions had been awakened in the minds of these women.
I learnt afterwards that the sight of the linen I had tried to dry was
the exciting cause; they thought me too well provided to be a Russian
artisan, for I had no less than four shirts!
Sleep was just stealing upon me, when I heard some whisperings that
disturbed me; and, all of a sudden, in came three peasants, one of whom
said in a low voice:
‘Where is he?’
The younger of the women pointed to where I lay. Presently, I was first
called, and then roughly shaken up by these men, who asked if I had a
passport. I was obliged to make some answer, so, sitting up, I retorted:
‘And what right have you to ask for my passport? Are any of you
_golova_ (an official)?’
‘It is true that we are not; we are only the inhabitants of the place.’
‘And, as inhabitants of the place, what right have you to attack
houses, and to walk in to ask for passports? How am I to know who you
are, and whether you are not likely enough to steal my papers? But,
keep yourselves easy, you will find presently with whom you have to do.’
‘But I tell you we are neighbours, country folks here.’
‘Is that true?’ said I, turning to the mistress of the house; and on
getting a sign from her in the affirmative, I went on, ‘Well then, in
that case, I will answer you. My name is Lavrenti Kouzmine, of the
government of Tobolsk, and I am going to the iron foundries at Bohotole
to look for work; and this is not the first time, by any means, that I
have been this way.’
I then went into more circumstantial details, and concluded by
exhibiting my passport. It was a mere pass, since, alas! my _plakatny_
no longer existed, and it never could have imposed upon any official;
but as it had a seal, the sight of that essential convinced this
portion of the public, who then began to ask me a hundred questions
about the fair at Irbite, and many other things. At last they departed,
having wished me a good night’s rest, and excusing themselves for
having troubled me by saying, ‘You see it was very excusable, because
we thought it was a case of a runaway convict: they sometimes pass this
way.’ The remainder of the night passed tranquilly away; and on the
following morning, I took leave of the two women whose hospitality had
so nearly proved fatal to me.
The incident which I have just related carried with it one sad
conviction, which was, that I could not reckon on a shelter for any
future nights without clearly exposing myself to very serious dangers,
and that, until things should take a new turn, the Ostiak couch must be
my only bed; and so with the Ostiak couch I contented myself, during
the whole of my journey across the Oural Mountains, and until my
arrival at Véliki-Oustiong--that is to say, from the middle of February
to the first days of the month of April 1846. Three or four times only
did I venture to crave hospitality for the night in some lonely hut;
and that was only because I was exhausted by some fifteen or twenty
days passed in the forest, and my strength was so far gone that I was
hardly conscious of what I was, what I said, or what I did. All the
other nights I contented myself with digging an earth for sleeping
in--only I had become more cunning, and I had also acquired a greater
dexterity in preparing my nocturnal refuge. I had noticed that, in
the depths of the forests, the snow hardly reaches to the foot of the
great trees; and that, as it accumulates, it still leaves an empty
space round the trunk, which soon becomes a pretty deep cavity. I let
myself slip down the stem of the tree into the hollow thus formed,
which was not unlike a well. Having arrived at the bottom, I tried with
my stick to throw some of the snow out of the aperture at the top,
and thus made a vault, which covered and sheltered me perfectly. But
very often I could not manage these nightly buildings; the snow would
be too light and dry, or, at another time, the roof thus laboriously
contrived would fall in with a crash. I had then to seat myself close
to the tree; and leaning my back against its trunk, thus slept, or
rather dozed, for the night. When the cold became so great that I felt
my limbs growing numbed, I had to get up, and run hither, and thither.
It was too dark either to follow or to find the road; but exercise,
at all risks, I must have, to revive my animal heat. On more than one
occasion, I have lain down tired, and simply let myself be covered by
the falling snow; this was, perhaps, the warmest cover of any; but I
always found it difficult, in the morning, to shake myself loose of
this white winding-sheet. By degrees, I got accustomed to this way of
sleeping; and sometimes, when night fell, I would find myself turning
into the thickest part of the woods, as to some familiar resting-place;
though at other times, I must confess, this savage life seemed to me
all but unbearable. The absence of any human dwellings, the want of
warm victuals--sometimes even of frozen bread (my only food, for days
together)--would make me feel that, not very far from my side, there
lay in wait for me those two hideous spectres--Cold and Famine--whose
names we are so apt to take in vain at every little trifle which makes
us uncomfortable! In such moments, what I most dreaded were the sudden
attacks of sleep, which would come on me unawares. These I knew full
well to be the forerunners of death, and against them I struggled with
all the little strength that remained to me. The craving for something
warm to eat or drink was very great; and it was often with the utmost
difficulty that I refrained from going into some hut, to beg a little
of the turnip broth which they make so much in Siberia.
After leaving behind me Verkhouterie--the last town (it is a wooden
one) which I was to pass on my way to the eastern slopes of the Ourals,
and where I took good care not to stop, I fell in with six young
Russians--a meeting which was very fortunate for me, as from them I
obtained various pieces of useful information. By their dress, and
indeed by their speech, I saw that they did not belong to this part
of the country, and that they were not even Siberians. When I asked
them, they told me that they came from the government of Archangel,
from the district of Mezen, on the very borders of the Frozen Sea;
and that they were on their way to the province of Tobolsk, to push
their fortunes as veterinary surgeons. These young men had pleasant
faces, very fair complexions, and hair so light as to have a silvery
tinge, like well-dressed flax. Indeed, had they not had clear blue
eyes, they might have passed for Albinos. They told me that the country
from which they came was very poor--miserably poor. In short, nothing
grew there, either wheat, oats, or barley; and the inhabitants lived
on fish, getting bread only from Archangel. The sight of men who had
come so far, and come on foot, gave me fresh courage and hope. I, in
my turn, could give them many details about Siberia (though not about
the districts in which I had dwelt), and I told them where they were
likely to find the greatest number of horses. Nature seems often to
play strange games in distributing men as she does over this globe. To
these miserable dwellers on the most remote shores of the Frozen Sea,
Siberia appears as a land of promise--the Eldorado of their dreams of
happiness; and thither they emigrate in bands, and in whole families,
to look for more lucrative labour and in search of a more clement sky.
I do not know how many days I may have spent in thus climbing the woody
but snow-clad heights of the Oural chain. The uniformity of the way,
and the repetition of the same accidents of travel made me at last lose
all count of time. I only know that at Paouda, far set in the heart of
the mountains, I dared for the second time since I had left Irbite to
sleep in a human dwelling, and that then for the third time since that
date I tasted some warm food. Even this little good fortune I owed to
a happy chance. I passed through the village very late in the evening,
and as I went by a house in which the lights still burnt, I suddenly
heard a voice call, ‘Who goes there?’
‘A traveller.’
‘Have you far to go?’
‘Oh, very very far.’
‘Well, if you like, you may turn in and sleep with us for the night.’
‘The good God reward you! But shall I not trouble you?’
‘How trouble us? No one is gone to bed yet.’
I crossed the hospitable threshold, and found in the house two kind
worthy beings, a husband and his wife. They gave me a modest Siberian
meal, which to me seemed a feast fit for Lucullus; but what I enjoyed
most was the being able to take off my clothes, which I had not been
able to do for so many nights, while I camped under the stars. They
asked me a good many questions, and I was ready to reply to them,
saying that I belonged to the district of Tobolsk, and that I was
on my way to Solikamsk, on the other side of the Ourals, that I had
a relation there, and that the times being hard, he had written to
me that I might find work in the salt works there. These good folks
then began to talk of their own lot, and to complain of it heartily.
It appeared that they were ‘peasants of the works’ (_pozavodskoïe
krestyany_), or serfs, liable from generation to generation to be
impressed for statute labour in the different government factories, of
which there are a great many in the Oural districts. Formerly there
were works at Paouda itself, but since they had been done away with,
the serfs were now obliged to go to labour as far as Bohotole; from
this liability neither women nor persons above the age of fourteen
years are exempt, and it may be supposed that such conditions were
severely felt. On the next day my hosts would not let me depart till I
had breakfasted with them, and they steadily refused to accept of the
money which I pressed upon them. What a warm and hearty farewell did
we take of each other! but my ease of mind vanished when the good man
of the house, just as he parted from me, and was giving me some final
instructions as to my road, added, ‘at any rate, a little beyond Paouda
you will come to the military station; they will ask for your papers
there, and they will not fail to give you all the information you can
require.’
It may be believed that I neglected no efforts not to come in the way
of any such sources of knowledge. I struck aside and went by hill and
by dale, now and then up to my neck in snow, and did not regain the
high road till I had left the tutelary guard station far behind me.
Thus I went on for several days, only buying bread at rare intervals
at the _izbouchka_, which at great distances from one another and from
time to time I met with on my way.
_Izbouchka_ are little houses built at great intervals for the
accommodation of travellers, and are to be found from the Oural
Mountains to Véliki-Oustiong; you find there bread, salt fish,
turnips, radishes, cabbages and _kvass_ (a liquor made from cider),
and sometimes, though rarely, brandy. In some of these inns, that is
to say, in the more spacious ones, there is to be found hay and corn
for the horses. Their owners buy in the provisions, and it is said
make a good profit on these strange hotels, which in general are kept
by one old man, or by a couple as miserable as they are decrepid. One
evening I met a train of _yamstchiks_ who were on their way back from
the fair at Irbite, and were halting to rest their horses; but I did
not remain with them. I knew that I was nearing the summit of the Oural
range, and a superstitious feeling impelled me towards it as to the
culminating point of my fate. At last I reached the top of the pass.
It was a fine night; the moon illuminated with its full splendour a
glorious but fantastic scene, where the gnarled shadows of the trees,
and of gigantic masses of rocks, were filing far upon the immense
expanse of snow. A silence so solemn as to be almost religious in its
unbroken stillness reigned around, except when at times a dry metallic
sound struck upon the ear as the stones cracked and split from the
intensity of the frost; and yet nature, rude and wild as she appeared
to me at this time, and under this dress, was to me, alas! a friend
more pitiful than any of the civilised beings around; _she_, at least,
never asked me for my passport! It was with difficulty that I kept
my mind from dwelling on spirits from another world, from recurring
to the fairy sprites and other tales to which I had been accustomed
during my childhood in the Ukraine, so much were they recalled by the
strange and sinister-looking forms which the moon revealed, while in
her rays their outlines assumed monstrous proportions. Indeed, in the
eyes of any Ukraine child might not I myself have easily passed for no
less a person than the ‘great demon of the night,’ as I stood there in
my strange dress, beard, eyebrows, and moustaches, all crusted with
frosty rime, wandering thus among the shadows of the forest, myself but
another shade?
From any more prolonged contemplation of the landscape cold obliged
me to abstain, and I soon began to descend the western slopes of that
immense barrier which nature has interposed between Siberia and Russia
in Europe. During the course of next day the _yamstchiks_ came up with
me again, and I had an opportunity of seeing with what marvellous skill
they drive their horses along roads which are all but impracticable.
They had thirty sledges, to each of which a solitary horse was
harnessed, and the whole string was driven by seven _yamstchiks_. The
way was narrow and hedged on each side by walls of snow as high as a
man, and in these both men and horses would occasionally disappear.
When one train met another coming in the opposite direction, the
train which was the smaller, or the least heavily laden, would then
plunge into the snowy wall; and I do not exaggerate when I say that
sometimes after a plunge the horses’ ears alone remained visible.
Having completed this peculiar evolution, the drivers of both trains
would then apply themselves to pulling both sledges and horses out of
the wreath. But even these occurrences were as nothing compared to
the accidents caused by the bogs and quagmires which are so frequent
on these routes. The horses, however, are perfectly accustomed to all
obstacles, and they throw themselves into the ravines, and then allow
themselves to be extricated by their drivers. The difficulties of the
passage of the Oural chain are so great that these intrepid men cannot
make more than twenty verstes a day, and as far as Véliki-Oustiong I
found all along the wayside the corpses of horses that had given in
from fatigue. What the _yamstchiks_ themselves seem capable of enduring
in the way of privations and fatigues is something truly incredible.
I reached Solikamsk in the beginning of March. It lies at the foot
of the western declivity of the mountains. Without making any stay
there I pursued my way by the steppe of Petchora, tending towards
Véliki-Oustiong, by way of Tcherdine, Kaï, Lalsk and Nochel. The
country was no longer hilly, but there was now as before the same
immensity of snow, the same thick woods, the same winds and storms
of ice; for me also there were the same weary marches and the same
furtive purchases of bread at the unfrequent _izbouchka_, and the same
earths toilsomely constructed for each night’s repose. One discovery,
however, was an unspeakable boon to me. I had remarked that in these
depopulated regions the foot travellers, who were so few and far
between, were in the habit, when overtaken by night in the woods, of
lighting a large fire, and of keeping it blazing till daybreak. I did
this several times, and the flaming logs in the middle of a frozen
desert not only warmed but cheered me; but this would not do for a
roadside diversion, and I only ventured on it when deep in the forest.
I always steered clear of the towns which lay in my way; but one
day, when, to avoid Tcherdine, I had wandered long in the woods, I
completely lost my way, and had not a notion to which side to direct
my steps. A hurricane of snow made me literally pirouette, and covered
me all over with its flakes, while, as a climax to my misfortunes,
I had no more bread in my bag. I rolled in the snow with convulsive
movements; I could not sleep, but I prayed for death. When day again
dawned, the sky cleared, the weather was fair, my pains had abated,
but my strength was utterly exhausted. I strove to guide my course by
the sun, or by noticing the moss which grew on the north sides of the
trees, and dragged myself on for a while by help of my stick, till
the pangs of hunger again attacked me. Wearied with the strife, and
with a face bathed in tears of weakness, hunger, and despair, I let
myself drop at the root of a tree. By degrees sleep stole upon me, and
it was accompanied by a humming noise in my head, which threw all my
ideas into the wildest confusion. Strange to say, I became totally
insensible, and only the tearing pains inside gave me any sense of
life. How long I lay in this state I know not; I was suddenly roused
from it by a strong man’s voice. I opened my eyes, a stranger stood
before me.
‘What are you doing there?’
‘I have lost my way.’
‘Where do you come from?’
‘From Tcherdine; I am on a pilgrimage to Solovetsk; but the storm made
me lose my way, and I have had nothing to eat for several days.’
‘I am not surprised at it; we belong to this part of the country,
and yet we often lose our way; you should never have set out in such
weather: drink a little of this.’
He put a wooden bottle to my lips; I drank a mouthful of brandy, which
revived me instantly, but so burned the stomach that it made me start
with pain till I executed a perfect tarentelle.
‘Come, be quiet, can’t you!’ cried the stranger, and he offered me some
bread and dried fish, which I devoured with a sort of frenzy; I then
sat down again at the foot of my tree, and my companion seated himself
alongside of me. He was a trapper by profession (_promychlennik_),
and after having secured his prey, he was returning home, with his
gun slung over his shoulder, and with pattens on his feet. When I
got a little calmer, he offered to conduct me to the neighbouring
_izbouchka_. ‘I thank you with all my heart; may the good Lord reward
you for all you have done!’
‘So we are a Christian, are we? Well, step on now, and never give in!’
I got up with great difficulty, for my head was swimming round; but
summoning all my strength I followed my leader, and I steadied myself
from time to time on his arm, till at length we stood once more on the
road from which I had wandered, and there the trapper, having commended
me to God, left me, disappearing into the thickets. I could see the
_izbouchka_ at some distance, and so great was my joy at the sight of
it, that I believe I should have walked up to it, had I known that
gendarmes were waiting at the door to arrest me. I managed to get as
far as the said door, but when I had crossed the threshold, my strength
failed me, I fell on the ground, and rolled under a bench. Then, after
a dead faint of some minutes, I came to myself again, and asked to have
something warm to eat or drink. Some turnip soup was given to me, but
this, although tormented by hunger, I was hardly able to swallow, and
towards midday I fell asleep on a bench, where I slept till about the
same hour on the following day, when my landlord in alarm shook me up.
He was a kind honest man, and his affability towards me was redoubled
when he heard that I was on a pious pilgrimage, as far as the Holy
Isle in the White Sea. I was still quite wet, and my garments had to
be dried at the stove; but sleep, rest and warmth had already cured
me. I was able to eat something, and start again on my travels, sorely
against the wishes of mine host, who begged me to rest one day longer
in his house. I had to give some reasons to account for persisting in
my resolution, and I promised him solemnly that on my return from the
goal of my pilgrimage I would pay him a second visit.
These _izbouchka_ were a constant source of temptation to me during
my arduous journey to Véliki-Oustiong. How often, after many days of
walking, have I passed before one of those hospitable abodes, and had
to struggle with the longing I felt, not for a night’s shelter, as
that was a happiness which I could not aspire, but at least for some
of that warm broth which my stomach, weary of frozen bread, salt fish,
and kvass, implored. At such times I held a sort of tragi-comic dispute
with myself, and my good and my evil genius seemed to contend within me.
One day, having entered one of these huts to buy some bread, I found
there a tall hale old man, with a silvery beard, and a girl of about
eighteen, with a pleasing face, who was rocking a child, and singing
as she rocked in order to put her infant more readily to sleep. The
old man made me pay very dear for the bread, charging six kopeks for
the pound; and I sat down to eat some, adding to it a little salt, and
washing it down with some mouthfuls of _kvass_. As I did so, he looked
at me with complete indifference, and contented himself with asking
me one or two insignificant questions. The young woman, who was his
grand-daughter, regarded me with an emotion which was quite visible;
and hardly had the man absented himself for a moment, than she jumped
upon a stool, and reaching up to a shelf, took down two large cakes of
wheaten flour mixed with butter and cheese, which she furtively pushed
under my pelisse, and then went back to her cradle, humming her song
all the time. I shall never lose the memory of this charitable action,
done as it was with an inimitable grace, and with all the haste and
trepidation of crime.
I refrain from wearying the reader by any further account of that long
journey to Véliki-Oustiong, for the frightful monotony of the hours
was only broken by meetings which I at once welcomed and dreaded, with
_yamtschiks_ and pilgrims. I will only mention one incident, which may
give some idea of the state of my mind and nerves. One day, in the
forest, I saw a man running towards me, with a look of the greatest
terror: ‘Do not go any further,’ he cried, ‘there are two brigands in
pursuit of me at this moment!’ I tried to get him to stop so that we
might present a double resistance to these robbers, but he continued
his flight at a great pace. Left alone, I armed myself with a cudgel,
and thus advanced to meet the enemy in question. Will it be believed,
the sensation I then had was one of pleasure? Here was a danger, but
it had nothing to do with a passport. Here were men who had as much to
fear as I had myself, and to whom I represented law and order; but I
never had the satisfaction of making their acquaintance! And I missed
the brigands, as in the Oural Mountains I had also missed the bears
that play so fine a part in the narratives of the natives, for neither
on the one nor yet on the other side of the chain did I meet any of the
redoubtable animals.
I reached Véliki-Oustiong on some day in the first fortnight in the
month of April 1846, and there I intended to alter the style of
my travelling costume. I had left Irbite on the 13th of February;
therefore, for about two months I had led, in the woods and among the
snow, a life which might truly be called the life of a savage.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Paper currency.