THE “COLONISTS”—FURTHER EVENTS IN THE WOMEN’S PRISON—THE HUNGER-STRIKES—THE YAKUTSK MASSACRE
The summer of 1888 brought troubles also to us in the men’s prison, though they had nothing to do with the grievances of the women.
Among the inmates of the “hospital” room was Vlastòpoulo, formerly an officer in the army, condemned in 1879 to fifteen years’ “katorga,” this sentence having been subsequently increased to the life-term, in punishment for an attempt at escape. He was a man of many gifts and well equipped with varied information, firm in character, very proud and ambitious; and he was held by us to be unalterably fixed in his terrorist principles. His comrades placed great confidence in him, and esteemed him highly, as they testified by twice electing him stàrosta.
In the spring of this year (1888) Vlastòpoulo’s roommates, of whom I was one, noticed that he was becoming short-tempered, peevish, and restless. About this time we were visited by an official of the Imperial Police Department—one Russìnov by name, a privy councillor. Tours of inspection were often made by high officials from Petersburg, and had for their real object the inciting of political prisoners to “repentance,” and the urging them to sue for pardon. These efforts were sometimes successful. Weak-minded people were occasionally found who would sing, “Pater, peccavi”; but it is worthy of note 276that such instances never occurred among the women “politicals.”
On this occasion we were unaware that Councillor Russìnov had made proposals of recantation to any repentant souls among us; but one morning, shortly after his departure, Vlastòpoulo left the prison in the company of gendarmes, handing to one of the comrades as he passed through the door a note, which when read aloud, left us all perfectly thunderstruck. Vlastòpoulo informed us that he had lost all faith in the justice of the revolutionary struggle, and had therefore resolved to “cast himself at the foot of the throne,” as he expressed it, i.e. to petition the Tsar for pardon.
No previous occurrence of the kind had been at all like this, and the impression on us was overwhelming. Vlastòpoulo was, as I have said, a most prominent person in our ranks, and his example might well be followed by others, especially considering the frame of mind in which many of the prisoners were known to be.
This was, as I have explained, a time of thorough-going reaction in Russia. Sufficient news penetrated the walls of our prison to convince us that there was at the moment no hope whatever of any definite immediate success in the revolutionary movement; and the fact of this being so necessarily caused much brooding over gloomy and even desperate thoughts, to which in prison one is but too prone. If some among us were already troubled by feelings of disillusion and doubts of the validity of our ideal, a further piece of news which arrived at this juncture—totally unexpected and at first incredible—would naturally only serve to heighten dismay. The rumour reached us that Leo Tihomìrov, one of the best-known leaders of the Naròdnaia Vòlya, had become a renegade. This man, whom chance alone had saved from death on the scaffold, had fled from Russia in 1882; and it proved to be true that in 1887 he had written the pamphlet, Why I Ceased to be a Revolutionist, in which he forswore 277his former convictions, and by which he gained the Tsar’s pardon. He received permission to return to Russia, and henceforth devoted his pen to the service of the existing Government, of which he is to this day a supporter.
This instance of apostasy—unique in the history of the Russian revolutionary movement—made the deepest impression throughout all Russia. “If such a man as Tihomìrov has become a monarchist, and acknowledges the absolute power of the Tsar, why then I, poor sinner, can be a revolutionist only through a misunderstanding,” I heard one of the foremost among us say; and, in fact, he himself soon afterwards sent in a petition for pardon. Our worst fears were realised. Nine men in all followed the example of Vlastòpoulo; among the number Yemelyànov, who had held a bomb in readiness to throw at Alexander II., and Posen, whose monarchist infatuation I have already mentioned. Of course, all this had a most overwhelming and depressing effect upon us.
The authorities always took care that anyone who had petitioned for pardon should at once be removed from our midst and interned outside the prison until orders arrived from Petersburg. Naturally we ourselves instantly broke off all relations with such a person, which often occasioned very affecting scenes. The action of sending in a petition of the kind we termed “asking to be sent to the colony”; and to this day the word “colonist” has a sinister sound in Siberia, bearing the implication of “renegade.”
Meanwhile the fight in the women’s prison was not at an end, but raged more fiercely than ever. Four other women who had been brought to Ust-Kara joined in the protest of Elizabeth Kovàlskaya’s three friends. The authorities did not seem inclined to move Masyukov; and the truce having expired, the women resolved to carry out their threat, and again began a hunger-strike. When we learned this, we decided that we too must associate ourselves with them in their protest, and we refused to take food, declaring that we did so to show our solidarity with 278our women comrades, though in our own opinion the commandant’s apology had been a sufficient atonement for his offence.
Our prison now presented an unwonted appearance; all work was suspended, the chest that served as our larder remained closed, the kitchen stood empty, and about the yard wandered the prisoners, who for days ate nothing, but in whom no signs of yielding could be discerned; it was easier for us to starve than to eat, while we knew that our women comrades were suffering the pangs of hunger.
We made no announcement of our proceedings to the commandant, and he also preserved silence until the third day, when he sent for our stárosta to know why we were on strike. When our reasons were given him he asked the stárosta to inform us, as well as the women, that he really was soon to leave the place; he had just sent in an application to be relieved of his post, and had received a favourable answer. In proof of this he showed a telegram relating to the matter.
We succeeded in persuading the women to give in for the time and to take nourishment, they having now fasted for eight days; but they would not entirely forego their protest against Masyukov, only modifying it so far as simply to “boycott” him. Ever since the abduction of Elizabeth Kovàlskaya the commandant had been afraid of appearing in their sight; but now they determined to break off even indirect communication with him. This decision cost them perhaps the heaviest sacrifice they could have made: it meant that they refused to accept their mails, which had always to pass through the hands of the commandant, so that they received neither money nor letters. Consequently they were forced to subsist on the prison rations alone, all communication with their friends was stopped, and all tidings of the outer worl............