CHAPTER XIII.
ATTEMPT AT ESCAPE BY A POLISH EXILE.
Why the Polish exiles cannot escape--Narrative of a attempt by M. Bohdanovitch--Encounter with a bear--Sanitary arrangements in Siberia--Wolf hunts--A blue fox--Different values of furs-- A few words on the passion for displaying riches.
After the description I have just given of the mode of life of M. Schlenker, the question may occur to the reader why the Poles banished in Siberia do not avail themselves of the quasi-liberty they enjoy at present to effect their escape. They could not, it is true, return to their own country, but no doubt they would like to live in some other land of their free choice, where the climate would be less rigorous than that of Siberia; such a favour, however, would not be accorded.
But Siberia is barely inhabited, except in the neighbourhood of the great highway that leads from the Ural to the banks of the Amoor and to its mouth. All the rest of this vast territory, known under the same denomination,--excepting, perhaps, that also along the banks of the rivers,--is nothing but an immense wild tract of steppes and forests.
The frontier, moreover, that separates the Russian empire from the Chinese, is formed of a chain of mountains very elevated and by no means easily accessible. And even if the poor fugitive should succeed in reaching the frontier, he would find himself afterwards in the great desert of Gobi, without shelter, without provisions, and even without a passport, necessary for admission into China proper; he would then have to dread being placed under restraint there, infinitely more terrible than exile in Siberia or, what is more likely, extradition, followed by a fresh incarceration, and then perpetual exile to Kamtchatka or the island of Tarakai.
On arriving at Irkutsk, I was indisposed, in consequence of the fatigue from so long a journey in a sledge. During these long, gloomy days,--for nothing is more depressing and painful than illness far away from home and in loneliness,--I frequently had a visit from a Polish exile, who, having formerly lived in France, was delighted to come and chat away an hour about the places where he had passed his youth, and the happy days he had known during his eventful and troublous life. His name was Bohdanovitch. Our long conversations were a great solace, and an effective means of dispelling _ennui_. Among all those of his nation exiled in Siberia, he was the only one who seemed doomed to suffer perpetually from the bare exile itself. He spoke of the prison with the utmost indifference; he repeated many times that he would willingly give all his fortune to see France again, especially Poitou, where he had lived a long while, and whence he had set out to join in the Polish insurrection to please his father, who urged it against his son’s will.
As soon as he was free in Irkutsk, such a man could not resist the temptation to regain France. He gave me an interesting narrative of this attempt, which I will reproduce in his own words:
“Two of my countrymen and myself had resolved, in the month of April, 1871, to reach China through the forests. We succeeded in procuring rifles, though it was forbidden by the regulations to carry arms.[13] We obtained also some enormous knives, and having everything in readiness, we attempted, at the end of May, to put our project into execution. At this time of the year, unfortunately, the thaw that has set in is still too recent, and the land consequently too swampy, to enable any one to accomplish forced marches. We were therefore compelled to return to Irkutsk, hiding our rifles under our clothes, fearing every moment to be suspected and searched.
[13] See note 6.
“Our absence did not escape observation, but, since our project of fleeing from exile was not for a moment suspected, one so rash being here regarded as impracticable, we were simply reprimanded. After this time a numerous patrol was moving all over the country, and so discouraged us, that we thought many times of abandoning the enterprise. Our courage, however, in the end prevailed over our apprehensions, and during one fine night in June, we slipped out of the town unobserved.
“All the provisions we had with us were contained in wallets, which we had to throw over our shoulders; for the thick, obstructed woods of Siberia, untrodden by the foot of man, are not, except by wild beasts easy to penetrate. We easily crossed the Angara, making the ferrymen believe we had come from Yakutsk, and were on a pilgrimage to the convent of St. Innocent.[14] Hardly had we landed on the opposite bank when we left the road and plunged into the depth of the forest and, as soon as we thought ourselves sufficiently advanced to be safe from any possible pursuit, we made a halt, to pour out our pent-up feelings on the exciting and momentous event. Tears of joy were trickling down our cheeks; we believed ourselves free at last!
[14] See note 7.
“Never shall I forget,” he here passionately exclaimed with all the bitterness of the recollection, “this moment of enthusiastic joy, which, alas! was followed by such bitter grief! We made vows to each other of mutual aid and protection till death, and continued our forced march towards the south.
“During the first few days, we were in high spirits, and leapt with joy. When night came, we regretted a little, it is true, not being able to find some shelter, even if it were only under a tent, to repose from the fatigues of the day. Our meal, however, composed of provisions still fresh, restored our strength, and cheered us with the hope of overcoming all difficulties in soon reaching the frontiers of China. How many enchanting dreams had we then, how many alluring projects of the future, which, alas! for my two poor companions, were to change into a painful and premature death, and for me into a banishment which I now believe to be perpetual!
“When the first few bright days had passed, we were assailed with a heavy and continuous rain. Our clothing was very soon wet through, impeding thereby our march; and the fire, which we could only succeed in lighting every evening after repeated failures, was far too feeble to dry them. Sleeping thus, wrapped in our wet clothing and without shelter, we found on awaking, in the morning, our limbs so benumbed with the cold as to seriously impede our movements. In this state, fever was not long in making its appearance, to threaten the remnant of our strength and render us incapable perhaps of further movement; and to aggravate the whole, our stock of provisions was sensibly diminishing. To eke out this scanty supply as well as possible, we had recourse several times to hunting, but this had the disadvantage of retarding our march.
“And then the animals did not often show themselves in these regions, except the cock of the woods, which could only be brought down on taking the greatest precautions. As soon as the hunter perceives one of these birds, he immediately stops short, and remains completely motionless till the moment it begins to crow. As soon as it commences to make its note heard, its senses of hearing and seeing, which are very quick and acute, are, in a certain way, diverted and, as it were, bewildered. This is the moment to advance. But if the hunter, in his progress, should make the least movement the instant the crowing has ended, he is unerringly discovered, and then loses all the expected fruit of his patience. We were able to get near a very great number of cocks, and, luckily, had a good shot sometimes; but it was necessary to sacrifice many precious hours merely for a single bird.
“Near the banks of a little river, which we were obliged to cross by swimming--an incident that very much increased our fevers--we fell in with a few hares, half yellow and half white, a colour determined by the season.[15] But all these resources in no way compensated for the fatigue we had to endure in marching, the weakness from the fever, and the discomfort from the rain; and when we arrived at the foot of the chain of mountains that marked the limits of Siberia, our limbs began to fail so much that we could hardly manage to drag ourselves along. We had brought with us a large quantity of brandy, and a little of this stimulated us to further exertion, but the stock of it was diminishing rapidly, and when we had arrived about half-way over the chain of mountains, where all vegetation but grass disappeared, and with bare inhospitable rocks before us, the remainder of this and our other provisions was exhausted.
[15] See note 8.
“My two unhappy companions, feeling themselves unable to proceed any further, were obliged to lie down to rest before making any renewed attempt, but alas! it was the final one, for they rose no more! I watched two days over their cruel sufferings, striving to soothe them and to allay their agony, and at last heard their dying murmurs and consoled them with my tears. With my enfeebled arms, I buried them in the best way I could, and I made two rough crosses, which I planted over their graves. Then, when this tragic end of my comrades was consummated, and feeling all the horror of my loneliness and the impossibility of continuing to live beyond the forest without provisions, I took the resolution to retrace my steps, and to attempt to get back to Irkutsk, in spite of the dungeon cell, in spite of the renewed sufferings, that would infallibly await me there.
“But before quitting this fatal spot,” exclaimed this poor fellow with a shudder of abhorrence, “I heaped maledictions on the crests of those mountains that rose before me to dispute my way like a battalion of Russian gendarmes, and there shut out from my longing eyes the sight of some other land that was to give me life and liberty.”
“But this empire,” I replied, “is not so hard, since it has not punished you for your rebellion.”
“That is true,” he said; “they have not only pardoned me on account of the sufferings I had endured, but they have even given me more liberty, knowing full well,” he added sorrowfully, “that I should never renew so rash an attempt.”
I then asked him what miraculous intervention enabled him to get back alive.
“I was indebted for that to my robust constitution. I managed to live upon roots, and gum from the trees, and that little red fruit with which the Siberians make a sort of wine.[16] I was so weak that I could march only very slowly, but the rain having ceased, I began to gain a little more strength, notwithstanding the miserable nourishment I was forced to subsist on. When I arrived as far as the little river I mentioned, I took it into my head to construct a small raft, that I might float down the current, and thereby diminish my fatigues. I succeeded, after a great deal of trouble, and when I ventured on this contrivance, I believed I was saved.
[16] See note 9.
“But a few days after I had been borne along in this fragile craft, seeing a favourable spot to obtain a fresh supply of roots and fruit, I attached my float to the shore, and went in search of them. I had not gone far before I found myself in presence of an enormous bear of appalling ferocity. My rifle was on the raft, and I had only my big knife at my girdle, and although I had heard of the artifice practised by the Siberians in slaying this ferocious beast, I shrank at first from exposing myself to such a danger. I tried to flee, but it was useless; I began climbing up a tree, but the bear followed me everywhere. At last, seeing no escape and no means of avoiding a struggle, I summed up all my courage as a last expedient, and stood facing the beast, waiting the onslaught with a firm foot, determined to sell my life as dearly as possible. The formidable brute came up with a slouching gait, and rose on his hind quarters to seize me with his forepaws; just at this critical moment, according to the Siberian mode of attack, I leapt suddenly into his forepaws, as one human being would into the enthusiastic embrace of another and, raising instantly my right hand, plunged my knife into his back to the right of the backbone and to the depth of the heart. My grim antagonist fell dead on the spot, and with a few scratches on my shoulders I escaped.
“I then retraced my steps, dragging my prey after me, and re-embarked in my craft with a good stock of provisions. At last, I delivered myself up at Irkutsk to the Russian authorities, who pardoned me, as you are aware, thinking probably I had been sufficiently punished, and convinced, as they doubtlessly were, of my intention to live henceforth peaceably in this city in expectation of my ultimate liberty.”
It may be seen from this touching narrative how difficult it would be for exiles to escape. Should even the greatest precautions and the most ample stock of provisions allow them to remain concealed a long time in the forests, the abundance of snow in winter would drive them out on to the beaten road, the only practicable way, and consequently into the hands of the authorities. An evasion, therefore, similar to the one just, related to me, should, in order to succeed, be accomplished in three months, and that would be quite impossible.
During my stay at Irkutsk, M. Silegnikof, the governor-general, was recalled to St. Petersburg. Several people, whose acquaintance I had made, left also and preceded him on the road in order to warn the authorities of all the villages they passed to level the snow on the way, so as to spare this old gentleman the fatigue of so long a journey. When these had left, M. Bohdanovitch was my most constant companion.
In Siberia, during winter, none of our methods of cleaning the streets or removing sewage can be employed. Refuse of every description is collected by carts, and deposited over the bed of the river. So long as the frost lasts, no inconvenience is felt from this accumulation: but, when a thaw begins, it is quite otherwise; then the air is pervaded with a noxious odour, and the water, for a week afterwards, is not potable. The Siberian towns are, therefore, very unhealthy at the breaking up of the frost.
During my sojourn at Irkutsk, a quantity of enormous birds constantly alighted on the fetid ice of the Angara, and M. Bohdanovitch and I went into the country, to get a shot at them on their way to this repulsive spot, where they were accustomed to feed.
Then we made excursions together in the neighbourhood of Irkutsk, and visited some country houses, the residences of some of the millionaires I have mentioned, and particularly that of M. Trapeznikof. When a district is covered with forests and watered with three rivers, it is easy to create charming residences. Our French taste, with such elements, would have worked marvels. Although the architect of M. Trapeznikof has not made the most of every natural advantage, it is, nevertheless, remarkable: lakes and cascades, mounds and slopes, are there in abundance, and these, though fashioned by the hand of man, form in the centre of a fine forest, a charming seat.
As soon as the new governor-general, M. Solachnikof, made his appearance, I was invited to join him in a wolf hunt in the neighbourhood of the Siberian capital.
These animals are allured, a day or two previously, by the carcases of horses or oxen; then, when they are well assembled at their repast, people come in large numbers, and gradually enclose them by forming a circle. It was very exciting sport to bring down this kind of game, so soon as they slipped through the circle of hunters. I have never seen in any menagerie wolves to be compared with these Siberian beasts; they are of formidable height and size. But when they are dead, it is almost impossible to approach them, on account of their odour and the swarm of repulsive parasites escaping from their fur.
We were returning very lazily on our hunters, that had taken us, by the road to Lake Baikal, to the rendezvous in the forest, when a little animal, to which my attention was directed by one of my fellow-huntsmen calling out: “_A blue fox!_” could be seen darting away among the trees. “A blue fox!” they all echoed, to warn the party of huntsmen at a little distance behind. A shot was heard; the animal limped, and then took its course. “Hit!” exclaimed the governor-general, giving directions at the same time to the Buriats, who, being equipped with long snow skates, could run the animal down. It was soon bagged; and the next day I received, as a present, the carefully prepared skin of this little quadruped, that had occasioned more excitement than a pack of wolves.
As I have already mentioned, a man is appreciated in Russia according to the fur he is wrapped in. The most highly esteemed is doubtlessly the fur of the blue fox, still only that portion of it that covers the paws. They do not here even wear any other part of the skin of this animal; but these furs, without these choice bits, are exported to France and England, to the great joy of the ladies of these countries, who, if their husbands are disposed to be obliging, esteem themselves very elegantly attired in them, though in Russia, and particularly at Irkutsk, their wearers would be regarded by connoisseurs as eccentric and ridiculous. And the relative value here will show the difference of appreciation, for the whole fur, except that of the four paws, fetches no more than the latter; that is to say, from two pounds fifteen shillings to three pounds five shillings. But the difference in appreciation in Russia is much more remarkable if it be borne in mind that certain cloaks of blue fox, so highly esteemed throughout this empire, composed entirely of the fur of the paws, are estimated at from one thousand four hundred to one thousand six hundred pounds sterling the cloak, the whole of which could be swallowed up by a few moths and their progeny in the course of a few weeks!
The next highly esteemed fur in importance is the beaver; consequently very few cloaks are seen of these skins.
And then comes the sable, which is frequently employed for mantles, at least for the cuffs and collars. These luxurious-looking furs are lined inside sometimes with commoner ones; I have even seen at St. Petersburg some that were not lined at all.
The jenotte is in the fourth rank. This is very much appreciated by travellers, because it is considered elegant, though the value may vary considerably according to the length and thickness of the hair. I have seen jenotte cloaks so low as ten pounds, and others estimated at about fifty pounds. As the difference of value cannot be appreciated at a distance, a man is considered elegantly clad in this fur even when the real value is very little.
The marten is generally placed in the fifth rank. This is the fur of an animal quite different from the sable, though it is frequently erroneously designated in France as _martre zibeline_. The fur of the sable is dark-coloured, very thick, and a little rough to the touch; that of the marten, on the contrary, is light yellow, and feels like a silky down.
Finally, the fur the least esteemed, and consequently the least worn by the _beau monde_, is the Astrakan. In certain cities, such as Moscow and Irkutsk, where the fashion is scrupulously respected, it would be even considered very venturesome to appear in public clad in this fur. The Astrakan cap, especially, is regarded with the utmost disdain; and if certain Russians have adopted among them, as a principle of conduct,--and I have heard it from their own mouths,--never to stoop to salute persons _on foot_ in the streets, they would recoil, no doubt, with repugnance from the idea of being acquainted with any one so low as to wear Astrakan.
Other furs, such as sheepskin, bear, and elk, are used by the untitled and obscure million. But, since they are the warmest, the rich do not disdain to wrap themselves up in them when travelling, thinking at the same time to give these cloaks a more elegant appearance by setting them off with collars of beaver, fox or jenotte.
The extraordinary price of fur from the paws of the blue fox is apparently no criterion of its value in the eyes of the _beau monde_, but rather the result of a conventional caprice of millionaires, who find in this object a convenient badge and mode of displaying their riches; for none, perhaps, but the very opulent and the prodigal, would be disposed to pay so dearly for no other object than to shine as a star of fashion. And this presumption appears to be well supported by the fact that the Russians keep this special luxury for themselves, and very naturally, because the English and French would not appreciate it as a sign of wealth, and, consequently, would pay no higher for it than the price it would command merely as an article quite _à la mode_.[17]
[17] See note 10.
But this foible for parading riches is by no means limited to the expedient of wearing this exquisite fur. Pearls, for instance, have long been a favourite medium, and this the Muscovites seem to have derived from the Romans. Two hundred years ago, “the Russian grandees,” says Lord Macaulay, “came to court dropping pearls and vermin.”
There is, however, no reason to suppose that “dropping pearls”--with or without their concomitants at court--was a mode of parade ever held to be _haut ton_; for a continuous dropping of “unwinnowed” pearls would have involved a burden as intolerable as the Muscovite chasuble. But if this particular art of display did not bloom into a fashion, it was at least a device full of meaning and “movement.” For was not an abundance of riches not only dropping, but “running over,” suggestive of super abundance--a sign of something _de trop_?
The spectator gazes in wonder, no doubt, at the many bushels of precious pearls garnered under glass cases at the monastery of Troïtsa; but the spectacle after all is a mere Dutch picture of still-life in comparison with this nacreous shower--this _tableau vivant_ at court, as full of life and flowing riches as the golden drops falling animated at the feet of Danae.
This epigram of Lord Macaulay’s is so amusingly droll that the reader will excuse one more digression. Pascal has said: “Si le nez de Cléopâtre eût été plus court, toute la face de la terre aurait changé.”
Now, might not the portentous difference in the history of the world, implied in the release of Antony, have been as readily brought about by the Egyptian siren if, instead of dissolving and drinking her precious pearls to detain her lover, she had dropped them at his feet _rigoureusement à la russe_?
A nose “plus court” might not have changed in either sense “toute la _face_ de la terre,” for,
Mark Antony led astray by the nose _so long_, His head, when _by another turned_, Would still have gone wrong; For Egypt’s queen--in spite of a nose too short by far-- Might then, by his own have led him, “As asses are.”[18] If women always _will_ lead the World by the nose, It goes better than pulled by the ears, They suppose. But ears less long it needed; not a nose so small, To have otherwise changed the _face_ Of the world at all.
[18] “And will as tenderly be led by th’ nose As asses are----”
_Othello._
But as history records no precedent that would deprive the Russian grandees of the honour of having been the originators of the “courtly” mode, Cleopatra obviously could not have imitated it in all its integrity. The Muscovite nabobs, however, like Sir Thomas Gresham, might imitate Cleopatra. The rich citizen of London, to rival the Spanish ambassador in a magnificent dinner, is said to have pulverized a pearl of the value of fifteen thousand pounds, and then drunk it in a toast to his sovereign. And these nabobs, since they are decidedly of opinion that prodigality is the most intelligible mode of displaying riches, might win more applause by likewise drinking their pearls in bumpers to their czar, or, perhaps, in throwing away their pearls and drinking their wine, by changing the Siberian custom of flinging champagne on the road before horses to actually casting their pearls before swine.