VISIT TO THE PENAL SETTLEMENT OF SIBERIA.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3018, 26 February 1881, Page 4

VISIT TO THE PENAL SETTLEMENT OF SIBERIA.

Of the treatment of political exiles in Siberia as it has been carried on for a long time past, I have before me a thrilling description from the pen of Mr Bobert Lemke, a German v/ritev, who has visited the vai'ious penal establishments of Russia, with an official legitimation. He has been "to Tobolsk ; aftor which he had to make a, long dreary journey in a wretched car, until a high mountain arose before him. In it 3 torn and craggy flank the mountain showed a colossal opening similar to the mouth of a burnt out crater. Fetid vapours, which almost took away his breath, ascended from

it. Pressing the handkerchief to his lips, Mr Lemko entered the opening of the rock, when he found a large watch-house, with a picket of Cassacks. Having shown his papers of legitimation, he was conducted by a guide through a long, very dark, and narrow corridor, which, judging from its sloping descent, led down into some unknown depth. In spite of his good fur, the visitor felt extremely cold. After a Tralk of some ten minutes through the dense obscurity, the ground becoming more and more soft, a vague shimmer of light became observable. ' "Wβ are in the mine !' said the guide, pointing with a significant gesture to the high iron cross-bars which closed the cavern before them.

The massive bars -were covered with a thick rust. A wachrnau appeared, -who unlocked the heavy iron gate. Entering a room of considerable extent, but which wae scarcely a man's height, and which was dimly life by an oil lamp, the visitor asked, ' Where are we ? ' 'In the sleeping-room of the condemned ! Formerly it was a productive gallery of the mine ; now it serves as a shelter.'

The visitor shuddered. This subterranean sepulchre, lit by neither sun nor moon, was called a sleeping-room. Alcove-like cells hewn into the rock ; here, on a couch of damp, half-rotten straw, covered with a sackcloth, the unfortunate sufferers were to repose from the day's work. Over each cell a cramp-iron was fixed, wherewith to lock up the prisoners like ferooious dogs. No door, no window anywhere. Conducted through another passage, where a few lanterns were placed, and whose end was also barred by an iron gate, Mr Lemke came to a large vault, partly lit. This was the mine. A deafening noise of pickaxes and hammers. There he saw some hnndreds of wretched figures, with shaggy beards, sickly faces, reddened eyelids ; clad in tatters, some of them barefoot, others in sandals, fettered with heavy foot chains. No song, no whistling. Now and then they shyly looked at the visitor and his companion. The water dripped from the stones ; the tatters of the convicts were thoroughly wet. One of them, a tall man, of suffering mien, labored hard with gasping breath, but the strokes of his pickaxe were not heavy and firm enough to-loosen the lock. " Why are you here?" Mr Lemke asked. The convict looked confused, with an air almost of consternation, and silently continued his work. "It is forbidden to the prisoners,'' said the inspector, " to speak of the cause of their banishment." Entombed alive j forbidden to say why ! <! But who is the convict?" Mr Lemke asked the guide, with low voice. " It is Number 114!"., the guide replied laconically. " This I see," answeredjthe visitor ; " but "what are the man's antecedents ? To what family does ho belong ?" " He is a Count," replied the guide ; " a well-known conspirator. More, I regret to Bay, I cannot tell you about Number 114 !" The visitor felt as if he were stifled in the grave-like atmosphere, as if his chest were pressed in by a demoniacal nightmare. Hβ haetily asked his guide to return with him to the upper world. Meeting there the commander of the military establishment,, he was obligingly asked by that officer — "Well, what impression did our penal establishment make upon you ? Mr Lemke stiffly bowed in silence, the officer seemed to take this as a kind of satisfied assent, and went on— ■•• "Very industrious people, the men below; are they not?" "But with what feelings," Mr Lemke answered, "must these unfortunates look forward to the day of rest after "the week's toil!"

"Rest!" said the officer; " convicts must always labour. There is no rest for them. They are condemned to perpetual forced labour, and he who once enters the mine Deter leaves it!"

(< But this is barbarous." The offloer shrugged his shoulders, and eaid : .

" The exiled work daily for twelve hours, on Sundays too. They must never pause. But, no 5I am mistaken. Twice α-year, though, rest is permitted to them—at Eastertime, and on the birthday of his Majesty the. Emperor."—'Karl Blind,, in the Contemporary Beview.