, 1888-04-06
RUSSIAN STATE PRISONERS.
Story Told by an Exile Who Was Sent to
Siberia-A Dramatic Scene.

Story Told by an Exile who Was Sent to
Siberia-A Dramatic Scene.
About 8 o'clock in the morning an
overseer unlocked and opened the door of
my cell and said to me Gomez | fol
lowed him to the Office of the prison,
where the commander of the convoy
made n careful examination Of my per
son, noted my features and physical
characteristic as set forth in a desCrip-
ton which he held in his hand, compared
my face with that of a photograph taken
soon after my arrest, and at last, being
apparently satisfied as to my identity, re-
ceived me formally from the prison au-
thorities. l was then taken down a flight
of stairs to the corps de garde, a large room
on the ground floor, at the door of which
stood an armed sentry. The spacious
but low and gloomy hall was dimly
lighted by a few flaring lamps and can
dies, and in the middle of it, at two long
bare tables, sat ten or fifteen men and
women, in coarse gray convict overcoats,
drinking tea. The heads of the men
were half shaven, they all wore chains
and leg letters, and on the back of every
prisoner, between the shoulders, APP
peared the two black diamonds which
signify that the criminal 80 marked is a
hard labor convict.
Near the door, in a little group, stood
six or eight uniformed gendarmes and
officers of the detective police, who
watched the prisoners intently, whisper
ing now IL then among themselves as
if communicating TO one another the re-
suits of their observations. The stiffness
of the room was unbroken save by the
faint kissing of two or three brass sam
ovars on the tables, and an occasional
jingle cf chains as one of the ~convicts
moved his feet. There was no CONVERSE
ton, and n chance observer would never
AVE imagined that the gray coated fig
ures sitting silently side by side at the
tables were near friends, and in some
cases relatives, who had long been buried
in the classmates of the fortress, and who
were looking into one another's faces for
the first time in years.
As / entered the room, one of the pris-
oners, whose face | did not at first recog-
nize but who proved 10 be an old friend,
rushed forward to meet me, and as he
threw his arms around me whispered in
my ear, Don't recognize anybody but
me-the gendarmes are watching us" |
understood the warning. The police
really knew very little about the history
and the revolutionary records of some of
the political ~convicts who were present,
and it was important that they should
not be able to get a clew to any ones
identity or past history by noting recog-
nitions as prisoner after prisoner was
brought in. The ]incautious manifestation
of emotion by one convict as he met
another might result in the return of
boil to the CaSemates of the fortress and
their detention there until their mutual
relations could be investigated. This was
the reason for the silence which prevailed
throughout the gloomy hall and for the
seeming indifference with which the
prisoners regarded one another. They
We're apparently strangers, but in reality
they We're bound together by innumera-
BILE ties of friendship and memories of the
past; and as they looked into one anoth-
er's faces, and noted the changes that
time and suffering had wrought, they
maintained their composure only by the
most heroic effort.
On one side of the table sat an old com
rade of whom we had heard nothing in
years and whom we had all supposed to
be dead. On the other side were n young
man and his b~ethrothed, who for five
years had not seen each other, and who,
thus reunited under the eyes OF the
gendarmes, did not dare to speak. Near
them sat n pale, hin woman, about 81
years Of age, who held in her arms a
sickly baby born in the casemate of the
fortress, and who looked a%nxiously at the
door every time it opened with the hope
of seeing her husband brought in to join
the party. Most of us knew that her
husband was dead, but no one dared to
tell her hat she watched the door in vain.
To one who could look beneath the
surface of things; who could appreciate
the tragic significance of the situation,
and who could see with spiritual insight
the hot tides of hatred, agony, sympathy,
and pity which surged under those gray
overcoats, the scene was not merely
striking and impressive, but terrible and
heart rending.-George KEENAN, in The
Century.