CONVICT LIFE IN SIBERIA.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXII, Issue 9775, 23 March 1895, Page 2 (Supplement)

CONVICT LIFE IN SIBERIA.

SAD SCENES IN THE PRISONS.

The silver mines of Nertchinsk (writes a correspondent), the only ones in Siberia now worked by convicts, are east of Lake Baikal, about 5000 miles from St. Petersburg. The gold mines of Kara are now worked by free labour, and Kara State prison, seen by George Kennan when he visited Siberia some ten years ago, has been entirely abolished and its inmates sent here. The Nertchinsk mines employ from 3000 to 4000 convicts. There are seven prisons, each within easy distance of one or more shafts in the district. The largest prison, Gorni-Zerentui, is a fine stone building and cost 160,000 roubles. The other six, including Akatui, are of wood, and much smaller, and are situated from thirty to one hundred miles aparb. The approach to the famous mines, so often quoted in sensational literature, is anything but aweinspiring. Gorni-Zerenbui is a pretty village, surrounded by undulating hills of rich pasture laud. A drive of 100 miles through a wild and desolate country brought me to Akatui, a village in the midst of precipitous mountains, which, upon entering the valley, seem to close upon one like a trap. Akatui is a natural prison, from which no prisoner' has ever yet escaped, and is toward evening unpleasantly suggestive of Dante's "Inferno." As I drove through it in the dusk the squalid houses appeared almost deserted. "Here and there a light glimmered, quickly darkened as our bells clashed by, and brought the startled inmates to the window. Travellers here are scarce, for as half the inhabitants are political exiles who have completed their term in prison, visits from the outside world are not encouraged by the authorities. A mile beyond the village I came to the prison, a low, log building, surrounded by a brick wall 18 feet high, closely guarded night and day by soldiers with loaded rifles and revolvers. The main building contained eight " kameras," which seemed clean and airy, the plank-sleeping platforms having coarse canvas bedding and pillows. There were oven bookshelves, and some drinking cups held bunches of wild flowers, gathered by the convicts on their way from the mine, a mile distant.

The prison contained 108, and could easily have held twice that number. The infirmary was in good order, but quite full. There is much sickness, especially in spring and autumn. Winter lasts from August till the end of May, and even at midsummer, when at midday the heat is intense, the nights are generally frosty. Prisoners remain in the mines twelve hours a day in summer and eight in winter, and the work is conducted in' a very primitive way. The shafts vary from 40 to 280 feet deep, and are sometimes dangerous on account of the bad state of repair in which the ladders are kept. A man was killed just before my arrival. 1 was told that civil engineers and not prison officials are to blame. Anyhow, I was glad enough to emerge in safety from the mines I visited. Silver found at Mertchinsk is the property of the Czar, and amounted last year to under a ton. The day following my arrival being a Sunday, there was no work. The heat was tropical, and I found most of the convicts in the yard lounging listlessly about, or leaning and sitting up against the prison walls in the scanty shade thrown by the building. About a third wore irons, and the clanking of chains was incessant. I imagined that this prison was kept exclusively for political prisoners, but found that the latter are far outnumbered by criminal convicts. No distinction whatever is made. Stat® prisoners do the Fame work, oat the same food, wear the same clothes as common felons, and sleep side by side with the first murderer, thief, or vagabond that chance may bring. The number of politicals now at Akatui is under twenty, and the majority are well educated, speaking French or English, sometimes both, fluently. An exile told me that the governor of the prison, who accompanied me, does not understand either language, but no restrictions were placed upon my conversations with any of the political exiles, all of whom J saw. Slavinsky is a slight fair man about 40, with mild blue eye? beaming through large spectacles, lie occupied a separate cell in the hospital, and was provided with books and writing materials. Slavinsky said, in French, that he had little to complain of, but that the "lodging" out of the hospital was "very bad." I only realised afterward what he meant. Slavinsky was arrested two years ago in Berlin and sentenced to three years' imprisonment in Germany for political reasons. Claiming exemption as a Russian subject he was extradited to St. Petersburg. Meanwhile a plot in which he was involved having been discovered in that city, he was tried on arrival and sent for life to Siberia. In another room I found four politicals. A number of books, chiefly scientific works, were on the table, and a printing press stood in a corner, All rose as we entered, and I noticed that one, who looked almost a boy, wore leg fetters, which he vainlytried to conceal behind a chair. This was Khotchurikin, undergoing a life sentence for the attempted assassination of the Governor of Kazan. The others were Minor, Ouflandt, and Orloff. The first, a full, dark man, about 30, smiled pleasantly whan L addressed him in English, but he looked woak and ill, and had to lean for support against the wall. He is here for life, but a few months have already considerably aged him. Minor is well bom, and has taken high honours as a law student at Yaroslav University. Ouflandt and Orloff, medical students, with sentences iof 20 years each, were the others. The former has been here for a year, and has in I that time learned to speak and write | English. An exile told me that by a [ " manifesto" issued by the Gzarowitz on the | occasion of his journey through Siberia, the life sentences of political convicts have been reduced to 20 years, but this does not apply to Slavinsky or Khotchurikin, neither of whom will ever leave Akatui. Of the other exiles, perhaps the most interesting was Gottze, sentenced to the mines for life for participation in the Yakoutsk revolt. He is a slight, undersized young man, with strongly marked Jewish features and laughing blue eyes, and seemed to regard his imprisonment rather as a joke than otherwise. I may mention that the resigned, and even cheerful bearing displayed by every "political" I saw was remarkable. Gottze was suffering from influenza, and occupied a room in the hospital. Ib contained an iron bedstead, two chairs, and a table littered with Russian and English books and magazines, while the whiteWashed walls were embellished with three or four photographs, including one of the beautiful and notorious Nihilist, Vera Figner. We spoke in English, and, considering that he has been six years in prison, Gottze seemed strangely familiar with the topics of the day. I am convinced that, although the correspondence of Russian State prisoners is closely watched, there is a secret method, unknown to the authorities, of imparting and receiving news. I returned to the prison ab midnight and passed between rows of sleeping convicts, among whom I recognised, and waved' a farewell to, Minor. The " kameras" swarmed with cockroaches and vermin, but >a do po<9b homes in Siberia* ,