Our Convict System—Misunderstood in England—Siberia, an Emigration Field—A Lax Discipline—Capt. Wiggins' Opinion—A Land of Stoicism—My Experiences as a Prison Visitor—Divine Literature—Helen Voronoff's Work—A Russian Heroine—Her Descriptions of Prison Life


To the Englishman the word "Siberia" seems to possess a significance so sinister as to make death appear almost a luxury; but imprisonment and the conditions under which the prisoners live are entirely comparative. To condemn a gourmet to live on roast beef and cabbage would be a punishment much greater than to sentence a farm labourer to live on porridge and black bread.

In England our "atrocious convict system" has been a subject for much comment. I think very few people in England have any conception of what Siberia really is.

Some, I have no doubt, who speak most freely about it, would be in some difficulty if they were asked to describe where it is. As a matter of fact it is the northern half of the Continent of Asia, greater in area than the whole of Europe. The north is almost uninhabitable, but we do not send our criminals to the north, but to the fertile south. {217} It is mostly in the fertile south that our present colonies exist. We used to send to the quicksilver mines only the worst criminals and murderers, with whom I do not think even English people would have much sympathy.

After all, would a man prefer to work in a quicksilver mine or to be hanged? Another very important point is that transportation to Siberia does not necessarily involve imprisonment. In some cases the convicts are turned loose to look after themselves, and are allowed to go whither they will, provided they do not attempt to return to European Russia. Moreover, the families of the convicts used also to be transported at the expense of the Government—which was, of course, a great consolation to them. But now the whole system of transportation to Siberia has been abolished.

We wish to do with them just what England strove to do with her criminals in the first half of last century—get rid of them. They are undesirable citizens, and as all good government is the greatest good to the greatest number, the best thing that can happen is to get the criminal population away from the non-criminal, so that one does not contaminate the other.

In the old days the English convict was compelled to work under the penalty of "the cat" or the gallows. On the other hand, the Russian convict is sent into Siberia, and there he can do what he chooses, short of actual crime. As a matter of fact, in Russia there is a strong feeling in certain quarters that our convicts have too much liberty.

Let me bring the matter nearer home. Suppose {218} instead of being sent to Portland and shut up in a grim and gloomy building, English prisoners were sent to the extreme north of Scotland and given their liberty, and told they must not come further south than a certain point, is there any question as to which of the two they would choose?

If English people could be persuaded to regard Siberia as a huge field for emigration, they would understand things much better, and in sending our convicts there we serve a double purpose—that is to say, we get rid of them, and we are colonising the country that an Englishman has described as "offering unique advantages to a young man with a small capital."

The proportion of prisoners sent to Siberia per annum is about one in every five thousand of the population, not a very high average I think. In England and Wales, I believe, the average is vastly higher.

To give some idea of the lack of constraint on the liberty of the convict, I will give some particulars of escapes.

On one occasion, when a census was taken of the convicts in Tobolsk, out of some fifty thousand exiles only about thirty-four thousand could be found.

At Tomsk, five thousand were missing out of thirty thousand.

There is one very serious drawback to our system, that is our method of pitchforking convicts into Siberia without arranging for their occupation, and the result is that a large number of them refuse to take to honest labour, and become good-for-nothings. {219} Siberia is not a holiday resort. No one could possibly regard it as challenging the Riviera, for instance; its primary object is to rid European Russia of her criminal population, and in this it succeeds.

The redoubtable Captain Wiggins has described the convicts in Siberia as "a happy, rollicking, joyous community—well clad, well fed, and well cared for."

I do not propose to comment on this, but shall leave the matter between the British Public and the shade of Captain Wiggins. Some may be inclined to recall a passage from Sir Thomas Browne which runs (I quote from memory), "There be those who would credit the relations of mariners."

In the past there has been a tendency in England to look for archangelic qualities in her neighbours, and she has been a little hurt at not finding them. Once when writing to me in 1876, Mr. Gladstone said:

"The history of nations is a melancholy chapter, that is, the history of their Governments. I am sorrowfully of opinion that, though virtue of splendid quality dwells in high regions with individuals, it is chiefly to be found on a large scale with the masses; and the history of nations is one of the most immoral parts of human history."

I have heard it stated of Mr. Gladstone that he was too true a gentleman to be a good politician. Upon that I will venture no comment beyond saying that I am convinced that he never did anything in his life actuated by any other idea than that it was right.

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The same morality that applies in private life never has and probably never will apply to Governments, and to expect perfection in relation to the treatment of prisoners in Siberia, or of Chinese labour in South Africa, is out of the question.

I cannot do better than quote here what I said in my introduction to Siberia As It Is, by Harry de Windt:

"To form a proper opinion of the Russian prisons, it is necessary to possess, what English people certainly do not possess, some knowledge of the ordinary conditions of life in our country. A preface to any book on Russia ought, in fact, to be somewhat of an introduction into the penetralia of our innermost existence. But in giving real facts about our country, I have the feeling of printing advertisements about ourselves—to us Russians a very antipathetic work indeed.

"Russia is, over a great extent, a land of stoicism, fortified by Christianity—not a bad basis for the formation of character, after all, but it is a hard school. Our country life is an important study. It is full of self-denial, of hardships, of privations. Indeed, in some parts peasant life is so hard that we, the so-called upper classes, could scarcely endure it.

"Landed proprietors are generally in close intercourse with their ex-serfs. The latter, though now perfectly free and themselves landowners, from the fact that their former masters have at heart their welfare, na?vely think that the latter are still under obligation to furnish help when needed. This somewhat amusing relationship is generally accepted good-naturedly by the ex-masters, though very often {221} it involves great material sacrifices. We could all give our personal experiences of village life, and I, for one, venture to do so, though there are many others better qualified.

"To visit the sick and the poor is a common duty recognised by a great many in our country, although the discharge of this duty sometimes is rather an ordeal. How overcrowded and dark are their dwellings! How poor their daily food! (The only approach to the condition that I know of in the United Kingdom is in the poverty-stricken districts of Ireland and in some corners of the East End of London.) Yet those who lead that rough life seem strong and happy, on the whole. They will make merry jokes, and after a long day's heavy work, from sunrise to sunset, return home from the fields, singing and dancing.

"Injudicious and indiscriminate charity would do harm here as elsewhere. In illustration of this, I will mention the following from my own experience:

"My son, when appointed Zemski Natchalnik (Zemski chief), built a church over his father's grave and founded two schools for training male and female teachers on our Tamboff estate.

"The principal local representatives of the Church and the chiefs of our local school inspectors were invited to discuss the programme of the teaching and management of these schools—one for boarders, future primary school teachers, with a class for daily pupils of the parish. They used to be almost free of charge before the emancipation of the serfs. So were both my son's schools. But now—since they depend on the Holy Synod—education has {222} to be paid for. The yearly Seminarian's fee for board, dress and education is ￡10 yearly. The girls' (future school mistresses) fee is ￡8—but they will soon be increased. All our schools for the people are, and have always been, free of charge.

"The educational scheme met with almost unanimous approval, but when the boarding arrangements came to be discussed, with suggestions about 'light mattresses and pillows,' they were met by a general outburst of disapproval.

"'Here you are wrong. Why should you spoil them, and make them unfit for their usual life, by accustoming them to unnecessary luxuries? The utmost you should provide, as a comfort for peasant boys, is some straw, and a plain bench to sleep on. Nothing more.' I may add, that this stoic simplicity partly accounts for their bravery.

"It may perhaps interest my readers to know that there is such a thirst for learning amongst our peasant children that candidates come in overwhelming numbers, and this happens to all our educational institutions—they are overcrowded to the last degree. The population increases more quickly than church and school accommodation for it. That inconvenience is also noticeable with regard to the children of our prisoners. But to people accustomed to a very hard life, would it be a punishment if, instead of suffering discomfort for their crimes, they were surrounded with what to them would appear extreme luxury? Where is one to draw the line between necessaries and luxuries? A prison ought to be a punishment, not a reward for crimes.

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"In visiting the prisons I have heard the remark that some of the convicts would not have committed their misdeeds had they possessed at home half the comforts provided in the prisons, though, of course, the privation of every liberty is already a terrible punishment. They also know that whilst they are away, good care is taken of their children. I remember a female prisoner, who had to suffer a year's punishment for theft and smuggling, whose looks of distress and misery forcibly struck me. Knowing that she was near the end of her term, I asked how it was that she did not look happier.

"'I am pining for my boy; I feel sure he is dead. I wrote to him twice, but he never replied,' answered she, sobbing. 'He was taken up as a beggar and a vagabond by the Beggars' Committee.'

"'Well,' said I, 'since you can tell me where he may be found, I will go and see him at once, and you shall know the exact truth about him. Wait patiently till I come back.'

"Off I went to the 'Beggars' Institution,' which is a branch of the prisons, though geographically a great distance away, and had the boy brought to me. He looked clean and healthy.

"'Your mother sends you her blessing,' I began; 'she is in good health, but grieves that you never answered her letters. Have they not reached you?'

"'Oh yes, they have, but I cannot write. I began learning here, and can only write O's and pothooks.'

"As I always provide myself with writing materials on visiting the prisons, and am always ready in deserving cases to write letters, dictated to {224} me by illiterate prisoners, I offered my services to the little beggar boy.

"He seemed radiant. 'Yes, tell her that I am very well fed here, three times every day. Food plentiful.'

"'What else?' asked I. 'Would you not like to see your mother? Don't you go to church every Sunday, and don't you pray for her?'

"'Oh yes. Tell her to come to live with me here.'

"You should have seen the joy of the mother when I brought her this very undiplomatic despatch, and the interest created amongst her fellow-prisoners!

"To help the wretched is a pleasure thoroughly appreciated by Russians. It is absurd to preach to us charity and compassion. We are brought up in those notions from our childhood. Christianity with us is not a vague term; it represents a very clear 'categorical principle' which forms a link between all of us, from the Emperor down to the humblest peasant. Our highest classes are very well represented in that respect. First comes our Empress Marie, the present Dowager Empress, who is the soul of charity and compassion. I never heard of any appeal made to her in vain. Nor could anybody, I think, be kinder than the Emperor. His aunt, the Grand Duchess Constantine, notwithstanding the endless demands on her generosity, once undertook to feed a thousand famine-stricken peasants in our district till next harvest. I could also give other examples from amongst the Imperial family.

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"Then, coming to a lower rank, we had, for instance, the procurator of the Holy Synod, M. Pobédonostzeff, and his wife. The latter, though far from strong in health, takes care of a large school, visiting it almost daily. With the support and sympathy of her husband, she collected large sums every year in order to send to the prisoners of Sakhalin (our worst criminals) quantities of clothes, useful tools, tobacco and toys, writing materials and religious books. Our lower classes only care for 'divine literature,' as they call it. Religious books are in great demand in every part of Russia, which helps to defeat Nihilistic teaching, and saves the people from that criminal folly.

"Or take another well-known case: a man of good birth and worldly prospects, a distinguished Moscow professor, Serge Ratchinsky, who, without any of that self-advertisement which seems to be the necessary stimulus to similar efforts in Western Europe, buried himself in the country, and there founded a school which has served as a model for ten or twelve other schools in the same province, and which he superintends and guides with fatherly care, and in strictly Greek Orthodox views. He also organised a large temperance movement, which is now spreading throughout Russia.

"I could give numerous instances to show that philanthrop............