The beginning of the report dealt with the committee's activity ; and here, as there was nothing to show at present, I dwelt upon hopes and intentions for the future. This composition moved Alenitsyn to the depth of his heart and was considered a masterpiece even by the Governor. That was the end of my labours in the department of statistics, but I was made chairman of the committee. Thus I was delivered from the slavery of copying office papers, and my drunken chief became something like my subordinate. Alenitsyn only asked, from some idea of keeping up appearances, that I should just look in every day at the office.
To show how utterly impossible it was to draw up serious tables, I shall quote some information received from the town of Kay. There were many absurdities, and this was one.
Persons drowned
2
Causes of drowning unknown
2
Total
4
Under the heading 'Extraordinary Events' the following tragedy was chronicled : 'So-and-so, having injured his brain with spiritu-
P R I S O N A N D E X I L E
2 1 3
ous liquors, hanged himself.' Under the heading 'Morality of the Inhabitants' this was entered : 'No Jews were found in the town of Kay.' There was a question whether any funds had been allotted to the building of a church, or exchange, or hospital. The answer was : 'Money allotted to the building of an exchange was not allotted.'
1 2
Statistics saved me from office work, but they had one bad result
- they brought me into personal relations with the Governor.
There was a time when I hated this man, but that time has long passed away, and the man has passed away himself - he died about 1845 near Kazan, where he had an estate. I think of him now without anger ; I regard him as a strange beast encountered in some primeval forest, which deserves study, but, j ust because it is a beast, cannot excite anger. But then it was impossible not to fight him ; any decent man must have done so. He might have damaged me seriously, but accident preserved me ; and to resent the harm which he failed to do me would be absurd and pitiable.
The Governor was separated from his wife, and the wife of his cook occupied her place. The cook was banished from the town, his only guilt being his marriage ; and the cook's wife, by an arrangement whose awkwardness seemed intentional, was concealed in the back part of the Governor's residence. Though she was not formally recognised, yet the cook's wife had a little court, formed out of those officials who were especially devoted to the Governor - in other words, those whose conduct could least stand investigation ; and their wives and daughters, though rather bashful about it, paid her stolen visits after dark This lady possessed the tact which distinguished one of her most famous male predecessors - Catherine's favourite, Potemkin. Knowing her consort's way and anxious not to lose her place, she herself procured for him rivals from whom she had nothing to fear. Grateful for this indulgence, he repaid her with his affection, and the pair lived together in harmony.
The Governor spent the whole morning working in his office.
The poetry of his life began at three o'clock. He loved his dinner, and he liked to have company while eating. Twelve covers were laid every day ; if the party was less than six, he was annoyed ; if it fell to two, he was distressed ; and if he had no guest, he was
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C H I L D H O O D, Y O U T H A N D E X I L E
almo�t desperate and went off t o the apartments of his Dulcinea, to dine there. It is not a difficult business to get people together, in order to feed them to excess ; but his official position, and the fear his subordinates felt for him, prevented them from availing themselves freely of his hospitality, and him from turning his house into an inn. He had therefore to content himself with heads of departments - though with half of them he was on bad terms -
occasional strangers, rich merchants, spirit-distillers, and 'curiosities'. These last may be compared with the capacites, who were to be introduced into the Chamber of Deputies, under Louis
Philippe. I netd hardly say that I was a 'curiosity' of the first water at Vyatka.
1 3
People banished for their opinions t o remote parts of Russia are a little feared but by no means confounded with ordinary mortals.
For the provincial mind 'dangerous people' have that kind of attraction which notorious Don Juans have for women, and notorious courtesans for men. The officials of Petersburg and grandees of Moscow are much more shy of 'dangerous' people than the dwellers in the provinces and especially in Siberia.
The exiled Decembrists were immensely respected. Yushnevsky's widow was treated as a lady of the first consequence in Siberia ; the official figures of the Siberian census were corrected by means of statistics supplied by the exiles ; and Miinnich, in his prison, managed the affairs of the province of Tobolsk, the Governers themselves resorting to him for advice in matters of importance.
The common people are even more friendly to the exiles ; they always take the side of men who have been punished. Near the Siberian frontier, the word 'exile' disappears, and the word 'unfortunate' is used instead. In the eyes of the Russian people, the sentence of a court leaves no stain. In the Government of Perm, the peasants along the road to Tobolsk often put out kvass or milk and bread on the window-sill, for the t�se of some 'unfortunate'
who may be trying to escape from Siberia.
14
In this place I may say something about the Polish exiles. There are some as far west as Nizhny, and after Kazan the number
P R I S O N A N D E X I L E
2 1 5
rapidly increases ; there were forty of them at Perm and at least as many at Vyatka ; and each of the smaller towns contained a few.
They kept entirely apart and avoided all communication with the Russian inhabitants ; among themselves they lived like brothers, and the rich shared their wealth with the poor.
I never noticed any special hatred or any liking for them on the part of the Russians. They were simply considered as outsiders ; and hardly any of the Poles knew Russian.
I remembered one of the exiles who got permission in 1837 to return to his estates in Lithuania. He was a tough old cavalry officer who had served under Poniatowski in several of Napoleon's campaigns. The <l,ay before he left, he invited some Poles to dinner, and me as well. After dinner he came up to me with his glass in his hand, embraced me, and said with a soldier's frankness, 'Oh, why are you a Russian ? ' I made no answer, but his question made a strong impression on me. I realised that it was impossible for the present generation to give freedom to Poland.
But, since Konarski's 8 time, Poles have begun to think quite differently of Russians.