The author of the following narrative is a leader in the Russian revolutionary movement. The German transliteration of his name is given here as being the form he himself uses in Western Europe; but he is called “Deuc” in the English version of Stepniak’s Underground Russia, which was translated from the Italian, retaining the Italian transliteration of names. A more exact rendering of the Russian would be Deitch, the “ei” pronounced somewhat as in the English word “rein.”

George Kennan’s valuable work, Siberia and the Exile System, the fruit of investigations carried on under circumstances of much difficulty and even danger, has made its many English and American readers acquainted with the true conditions of life among Russian political prisoners and exiles. The story given in the present volume of the painful and tragic events that took place in the political prisons at Kara after Mr. Kennan had left the Russian Empire was written to him by, among others, a friend resident in Kara at the time, whose letter he published in his book. In it are also to be found additional particulars concerning the earlier or later history of many persons whose names occur in the following pages; and it thus throws an interesting light on Mr. Deutsch’s story, which is told so quietly, with such an absence of sensationalism, that it is sometimes necessary to read between the lines in order to grasp fully the terrible realities of the situation.

It may, perhaps, be useful to readers unfamiliar with the history of the Russian revolutionary movement if I give here a rough sketch of its development, and of its position at the present time.

From the first consolidation of the Empire under the Tsars in the latter half of the sixteenth century, Russian despotism has consistently regarded with apprehension and disfavour all manifestation of independent thought among its subjects. There has never been a time when those bold enough to indulge in it, even in what English people would consider a very mild form, were not liable to persecution, and this traditional attitude of repression and coercion had the inevitable result. Even early in the eighteenth century secret societies had come into being, but these were mostly of the various religious sects or of the Freemasons. When they began to assume a political character they were at first confined entirely to the upper classes, and took the form of revolts organised among the military, the last and most important being that of the Decabrists (or Decembrists), who attempted to overthrow the monarchy on the occasion of Nicholas I.’s accession in 1825.

Liberal views were to a certain extent fostered by Alexander I. (1801-1825), who at one time openly talked of granting a Constitution. Russians who visited Western Europe, officers in the Napoleonic campaigns, and others, had “brought France into Russia,” had made the French language fashionable, and thus had opened a way for the importation of new philosophical, scientific, and political literature, eagerly appreciated by the developing acuteness of the Russian mind. Literary influence, even the purely romantic, has throughout ranged itself on the side of liberty, Pushkin heading the poets and Gogol the novelists. Indeed, one may safely say that up to the present day nearly every Russian author of any note has been implicated—some to a greater, some to a less degree--in the revolutionary movement, and has suffered for the cause.

Alexander I. in his later years, and his successor Nicholas I., fell back on a reactionary policy. Even Freemasonry was prohibited, mere literary societies of the early forties were considered seditious, and their members were punished with imprisonment and death. There now sprang up political secret societies, whose dream was of a federal republic, or at least of a constitutional monarchy.

The accession of Alexander II. in 1855 strengthened the hopes of the reformers. The study of political and social questions became the fashion; while professors, students, and the “intellectuals” of the upper and middle classes warmly engaged in the “underground” movement. With this period are associated such names as those of Herzen, Bakounin, and Tchernishevsky, whose writings were the inspiration of the party, and even influenced for a time the Tsar himself. But the emancipation of the serfs, on February 19th, 1861, bitterly disappointed those who had hoped great things of the new monarch, and who saw from the way in which this and other liberal measures were emasculated by officials, to whom the drafting of them was entrusted by the Tsar, how futile it was to expect any effective reform as a grace from an autocrat. The reform movement, now definitely socialistic, speedily took on a revolutionary character, and culminated in the active sympathy and support given to the Polish revolt of 1863.

Alexander II. resorted to the old coercive methods; all attempts to voice the aspirations and needs of the people, or even the academic discussion of political questions, were met with the savage punishments of martial law, imprisonment, exile, death. In face of a new enactment, which had professed to give fair trial to all accused persons, special courts were set up to try political offenders; and the practice of banishment by “administrative methods” (i.e. without any trial at all) was instituted.

A time of enforced quiet followed, when the leaders of the movement were either dead, imprisoned, or had fled into voluntary exile abroad; but it served as a time of self-education and study for the younger generation, at home or in foreign Universities, and in the early seventies the revival came. Our author here takes up the story with his account of the Propagandist movement, which was peaceful, except in so far as it aimed at stirring up the peasants to demand reform; for, in the absence of any constitutional methods for expressing their desires, this could only be effected by organised uprisings. He describes how this movement developed into terrorism under the system of “white terror” exercised by the Government, and how, after the assassination of Alexander II., the strong hand of despotism succeeded in checking, until a few years ago, the passionate struggle for liberty.

A new monarch and a new century have altered little the essential features of the situation, so far as relations between government and governed are concerned. Every day we have examples of the time-honoured policy, in the dragooning of Russia proper; the attempted Russification of Finland; and the deliberate fostering by the Government of anti-Semitism, with the covert design of counteracting the revolutionary activity of Jewish Socialists, discrediting their labour movement in the eyes of the Russian proletariat, and also distracting the latter from organisation on their own account.

But a significant change is at work to-day among the people. The peasants and working-classes in town and country, formerly the despair of those who strove to arouse in them political consciousness, are being awakened by the inevitable development of industry to a sense of their duties and their rights. A genuine labour movement has arisen, which, in face of the intolerance of the authorities, has naturally taken on a political character, and affiliated itself to the successors of the older revolutionary societies.

The words “anarchist” and “nihilist,” so commonly associated with the Russian revolutionists, are complete misnomers to-day (as, indeed, they always have been, except in the case of a few isolated individuals). The movement is now carried on chiefly by two organisations: the “Revolutionary Socialists,” and the party to which our author belongs, and helped to found, the “Social Democratic” Labour Party; associated with the latter being the powerfully organised social-democratic “General Jewish Labour Union of Lithuania, Poland, and Russia,” usually known as the “Bund.” Of these the Revolutionary Socialists alone still adhere to the practice of terrorism in a modified form, and even they have always proclaimed their intention of abandoning it directly “constitutional” methods are allowed to them. The aim of the revolutionists is to replace the present autocratic government by a social republic, under which the various races now grouped within the empire shall each have scope to develop its national individuality. Groups are actively at work in widely distant localities, even Siberia furnishing her contingent, while Poland and Finland have various revolutionary organisations of their own.

The Government’s policy at present is to exile to Siberia without trial, or intern in some place distant from home, all persons known or even suspected to be interesting themselves in the movement. This is effected principally through the instrumentality of the gendarmerie, which was instituted by Nicholas I. as a sort of spy system, primarily intended to unearth official abuses and report upon them directly to the Tsar. It soon, however, became imbued with the prevailing spirit of the bureaucracy; its members shut their eyes to the official corruption everywhere prevalent, and they have since confined their attention to unearthing “political” delinquencies. The force has at least one representative in every town of any size, and it has a vaguely defined roving commission to watch and arrest all persons who appear to be suspicious characters; these may be kept in imprisonment for an indefinite time, or may be exiled “by administrative methods.” It has become an adjunct to the ordinary police, although quite independent of them, and is generally employed in all matters of secrecy.^[1] Travellers from Western Europe who observe too closely the life and conditions of the country are liable to arrest in this way. Sir Donald Mackenzie Wallace and Mr. Kennan, among others, had this experience.

The mere existence of such a force may help to explain the discomfort of even the ordinary peaceful Russian citizen under the present system of government; and he is further incommoded by the presence in every house of a police-spy. For the dvornik or concierge, though paid by the inmates of the house, is appointed subject to the approval of the police, and is responsible to them. He keeps the keys, and is bound to deliver them up to the police whenever they may take it into their heads to require a domiciliary search. As an instance of the petty tyranny that occurs I may mention that the possession of a hectograph (or any such appliance for multiplying MSS.) needs a special permission from the police.

The police have power to break up any gathering in a private house where more than seven guests are assembled; this is frequently done, even on such ordinary occasions as a wedding or funeral, if many students or such-like “untrustworthy” people are of the party. When a town or district is under martial law—an everyday state of things in Russia—the above number is still further reduced; indeed, it is quite common for the police to prohibit all gatherings.

Readings at entertainments for the poor got up by philanthropic people may only be given from books licensed by the police for the purpose (and mostly very dull); the catalogues of lending libraries may contain only such books as are definitely permitted, many being excluded that are not forbidden to private persons—though the latter, again, are by no means free to choose their reading, many authors being entirely prohibited within the empire; and whole columns of newspapers, including foreign ones that have come through the post, are blacked out by order of the censor. Private debating societies’ meetings or lectures, however innocent, are practically impossible to all who are not in the best odour with the authorities, except under the strictest precautions against discovery—such as closing of shutters, disguise of preparations, and a warning to guests not to arrive simultaneously.

It is evident what opportunity all this gives to officials “on the make” for demonstrating their zeal, and it accounts for the fact that every year hundreds of persons not accused of any definite offence are removed from their homes. Nearly everyone has friends and relations so banished, and the result of such systematic interference with private liberty is that almost everyone in Russia, outside official circles, is more or less in league against the bureaucratic government. The countenance, and even financial support, afforded to the revolutionists, not only by sympathisers in free countries, but by the general public at home, is one great source of their strength. They are willingly assisted in evading arrest and in escaping from prison or from exile; and prohibited literature (printed abroad, or secretly in Russia itself) is circulated and sold throughout the country in immense quantities—not only leaflets by the thousand, but reviews, some elaborately illustrated, and even books of a more solid character. The Russian original of the present work will presumably soon be on the “illegal” market.

The illustrations are reproductions of photographs taken from life.

London, July, 1903.