no means in a position to hunt up the sudden news which is so much sought for in papers. The 'liner' does this, and works hard at his vocation. A CAPTIVITY IN SIBERIA. ALEXANDER I. Emperor of Russia-he who took part in the great European war against Napoleon, and is remembered by many still living as having visited London along with other crowned heads in 1814, died after a short illness at Taganrog, December 1, 1825. His decease caused some political confusion. Alexander had no son, but he had three younger brothers, Constantine, Nicholas, and Michael, and the eldest, Constantine, was the rightful successor. In a deed, however, dated in 1822, Constantine had renounced his right; so that at Alexander's death, the succession fell to the next brother, Nicholas; but as he was unpopular, the opinion was industriously circulated that Constantine's renunciation had been obtained by force. There was accordingly considerable opposition to the accession of Nicholas, and several regiments became compromised, not only as adherents of Constantine, but as being connected with certain secret societies who sought to promote a reform in state policy. A tumult ensued, which led to bloodshed and stern measures of repression. their uniforms, and having their swords broken over their heads by the public executioner. Rosen's banishment did not take place immediately. He was recommitted to the fortress of St Petersburg; and being kept in a cell better lighted than the one he formerly occupied, and allowed the solace of books, his sufferings were in a degree softened. Every ten days he was allowed to walk on the ramparts, which he esteemed a luxury, but the greatest of his alleviations consisted in being permitted to read the novels of Sir Walter Scott, which he devoured with the greatest delight. In this sort of life the prisoners remained till taken away in detachments of five at a time under an escort to Siberia. On one occasion, Baron Rosen's wife was allowed to have an interview with him in the house of the commandant. It was a sorrowful meeting. She brought her infant son, six weeks old, now seen by his father for the first time. The parting can be imagined; the distracted wife wished to give a thousand roubles in bank-notes to her husband; but the gift was refused as unnecessary, and all he would take was a large water-proof cloak of gray cloth, with fur, to shelter him from rain and cold on the dismal journey that lay before him. After being confined more than a year, and with health broken down by the damp air of the cells, It was altogether an ill-managed affair, and was not followed by a soothing course of policy on the time came for departure on the long journey the part of the victors. Many of the conspirators of 6600 versts, or 4125 English miles, to Siberia. --for so they were called-were taken prisoners, It was at midnight, in the depth of winter, that and subjected to exile in Siberia. What that five sledges were in attendance to receive the Baron punishment infers is pretty well known, from and several of his equally miserable companions. the pathetic tale of Madame Cottin. The banish-There was a ceremony to perform before mounting ment to this wild Asiatic region is no light matter. Some of the exiles are doomed to hard labour in the mines; others are put to less laborious but compulsory occupations; and a third class are settled in specified districts under surveillance of the police, and allowed to employ themselves as they please. Among the unfortunate prisoners on the occasion referred to was the young and spirited Baron Rosen, who, on being taken from his family, was kept in a species of guard-room in the Winter Palace at St Petersburg, where he remained fourteen days without a bed, and almost without food. Then, after some trivial examinations, he was transferred, blindfold, to the fortress, and immured in a darkened cell, as if he had been the vilest of criminals. Subject to occasional examinations, and permitted at times to write a few lines to his wife, Rosen experienced horrid doubts as to what was to be his fate. Often, to beguile the dreariness of his imprisonment, he sang songs expressive of his feelings and of love for his country. In a state too wretched to be described, Rosen was confined for several months, and then, without any regular trial, he was condemned to ten years' forced labour and perpetual banishment to Siberia. For a large number of his comrades, the sentence was slightly modified. Several were condemned to death. All had the indignity of being stripped of the sledges. A chain was fixed by rings and a padlock on the ankles of the respective convicts, who, by means of a cord from the girdle, could sustain the chain, so as to allow of restrained movement. All being prepared, the sledges set out under a proper escort, by the light of the moon and stars. The air was dreadfully cold, but was at first felt to be refreshing after the long confinement. All were wrapped in warm furs, and with bunches of dry hay stuffed round their feet to prevent frost-bite. As the different stations were reached, the travellers were transferred to fresh sledges that were waiting for them; and thus night and day, with but slight intervals of rest, the journey was a continuous trot or gallop. It was only after many days, when arriving at Rybinsk, that the party was allowed to rest for a few hours. All the beds in the station, however, were occupied, and the tired travellers were fain to lie down on the floor. Again, the cortege set out, passing along at a great rate through towns and villages, in each sledge there being a guard of one or two gendarmes; the whole under the direction of a Feldjäger-a the postmasters, and beat the postillions with his coarse species of ruffian, who abused and cheated sword, when they did not come up to his notions of speed. By cruel overdriving, seven horses fell dead on the journey to Tobolsk, which was reached on the twenty-second February, after being seventeen days out. From this place, the stations were of a more homely kind, being mostly cottages belonging to peasants, who shewed various acts of kindness to the exiles. Arriving at Krasnojarsk, where the sledges were mounted with wheels, the captain of police was so considerate as to allow a benevolent old merchant to receive the party into his house, and treat them to a bath, with other comforts, of which they stood in need. The Feldjäger having now left them, they travelled more slowly, and with a greater degree of ease. Yet, dangers had to be encountered. The cortege had to cross rivers on the ice, each sledge carrying planks to lay across the fissures, over which the hardy Siberian horses were skilled in leaping with singular agility. On one occasion the Baron's conveyance was upset in passing down a mountain steep, and being unable to extricate himself in consequence of his chains, his life was put in extreme jeopardy. The tedious and distressing journey came to a termination at Tschita, a place situated on the upper waters of the Amoor, which then in its lower course was a Chinese river, but is now included in the Russian empire. Here, at the prison, all the party were deprived of such trinkets and other objects of value as they had about them. From Baron Rosen's neck were taken a small portrait of his wife, a locket containing the hair of his parents, and a small packet of much cherished earth from the place of his birth. The officer who committed this miserable robbery, demanded a gold ring which he saw on the Baron's finger. The answer was: 'It is my wedding-ring, and you can only have it by taking the finger also.' The ring was spared; and soon afterwards, by order of a superior official, the portrait was restored. The prison was a wooden hut surrounded by a court-yard, in which the exiles were permitted to air themselves daily, and walk about as they best could in their fetters. In this species of seclusion, and on no pretence allowed to write letters to their friends, they remained till the end of May, when the ground having thawed and the weather improved, the exiles were put to regular outdoor labour, in digging the foundations for a new prison. Thirty, the full number in the place, were at first so occupied. Other parties who had been lodged in various quarters afterwards arrived, and the whole when the new prison was complete were lodged together, under a strong guard. The rooms were small, the beds consisted of boards with rugs and furs; the air at night was oppressive, and the only amusement indulged in was singing and playing at chess. From cards, the universal resource in Russia, there was a discreet abstinence, in order to avoid the contentions that might possibly ensue. It does not appear that in the ordinary routine of prison life there was any exercise of positive cruelty by the warders and other officials. Life was only cheerless, and wellnigh hopeless. Cases of official indulgence were at times heard of. Government orders had been issued to prevent wives following their husbands, but there were instances of ladies of rank overlooking all obstacles, and travelling thousands of miles to try to reach their husbands and live with them in the midst of the most revolting circumstances. In the work in which the Baron narrates the story of his captivity-and which being translated and published in England, we gladly recommend for perusal*-we are told of the Princess Catherine Trubetzkey, who followed her husband to Siberia, and asked permission to join him in the common criminal barrack, without servants or the comforts to which she had been accustomed. The request was with some hesitation granted, and only on condition that she renounced by a written declaration her rights of nobility. She renounced everything, and solely with a view of alleviating her husband's hard fate, followed him when he was carried from station to station, bound with cords, as if he had been a malefactor. Some other instances of the extraordinary devotedness of wives which we have not space to notice, are related in this interesting work. The method of living among the imprisoned exiles was in time ameliorated by the receipt of money from their friends; the richer helping the poorer by contributions to improve the general mess. All took a part in daily duties. Some on one occasion a prince-performed the duty of cooks, and some acted as tailors or shoemakers. In the evenings, some tried to give entertainments by lecturing on scientific and other subjects, or by teaching languages to their comrades. A few being good musicians, a kind of concert was attempted, the part taken by the Baron at these musical treats being that of player on the flageolet. At length, newspapers in various languages were permitted to be introduced; and, finally, as an immense act of grace, the emperor authorised the chains to be removed from the legs of the prisoners. This relief, of course, suggested thoughts of trying to escape but whither? The military guards might be overpowered; if so, the route was open to China; but on presenting themselves at the frontier the refugees would most likely be seized and given up, when their fate would be materially aggravated. It was accordingly resolved to submit, and trust to the chance of a pardon and ultimate restoration to home and friends. So life went on for nearly four years, when the détenus were ordered off to Petrowski, a distance of forty-eight days' journey. They marched in two divisions along the road, over hill and dale, lodging at night in the felt tents of the nomad Burjats, whose habits excited considerable curiosity. In the course of the journey, the Baron was overtaken by his wife, who had made interest to share his captivity, but only by undergoing the pang of leaving her child behind with some relatives. It was a joyful meeting, and they marched on together. Three or four other ladiesprincesses and countesses-were with their husbands, sharing their fatigues and privations. In the prison at Petrowski, the married pairs were allowed separate cells, which, besides being cold, were so dark that candles had to be burnt even at noon. At this place of detention, the convicts laboured at road-making, digging in gardens, turning handmills, and working at carpentry. For amusement, there was a resumption of the concerts, and reading of books and newspapers. A few of the more mechanically inclined exiles, gave useful assistance at adjoining iron-works. The Baron lived at Petrowski until 1832, his tive, by Baron R*Russian Conspirators in Siberia; a Personal NarraTranslated from the German by Evelyn St John Mildmay. London: Smith and Elder, 1872. wife in the interval increasing the family by several children. His period of prison life with forced labour had been ten years; but for some reason not explained, his term was limited to six years. Then came his removal to Kurgan, in the government of Tobolsk, requiring a painful journey of above 2600 miles, but with the advantage of being so far in a homeward direction. For an account of this lengthened journey, which included the crossing of Lake Baikal in an open boat with wife and children, we must refer to the Baron's narrative. Kurgan, a town of 2000 inhabitants, which has long been a dépôt for exiles of note, was reached on the 19th September 1832; and the family, under the cognisance of the police, found a place of residence, for which, until the next fair, some articles of furniture were lent by neighbours, who kindly added a present of bread and salt. Life at Kurgan proved an entirely different thing from what had hitherto been endured. There was no forced labour. The political convicts lived as they pleased amidst a wonderfully agreeable society; the free higher-class Russians in the place, as well as police officials, interchanging visits and hospitalities with the exiles. The Baron informs us that the hospitality is almost too oppressive. There is a common practice of inviting guests to come to all the meals during the day, those who come to breakfast, going away, and returning to dinner, and then to supper. At the evening meal, there is extraordinary festivity. As regards occupation, the exiles are provided with lots of arable land near the town, which they cultivate with the assistance of hired labour. The only difficulty is getting men or women to work for mere money. Even the poorest Siberians require to be coaxed to labour by frequent feasts of pies, soup, and other dainties; to which festivities a zest is given by a concert of fiddles and flutes, and dancing for hours afterwards. By help of such attractions the Baron was able to cultivate his farm and breed herds of cattle, for which there was a good market. These rural occupations contributed materially to improve his health, which had been enfeebled by previous captivity. Thus matters went on in an even tenor until a day or two before Christmas 1836, when in crossing the frozen court-yard of his house, his foot slipped, and in falling, one of his legs was dislocated at the hip-joint. Lifted and carried in by his servants, the anguish he endured was frightful, and, to his dismay, there was no surgeon in the town who knew what to do. This heavy calamity produced a lameness, with constant pain; and the poor Baron, consumed with anxiety about his wife and children, could walk but feebly on crutches. In the gloomy condition which followed this untoward accident, there came a gleam of hope. The Grand-duke Alexander, son of Nicholas, and who is now emperor, visited Kurgan in June 1837, in the course of a journey to Siberia. He was known to be a man of a less despotic and exacting character than his father, and was inclined to be kind and conciliatory in all his dealings. The Baron, like some other unhappy exiles, trusted that by proper representations, he might induce the prince to procure a remission of his sentence. He accordingly made efforts to gain an audience of the prince during his short stay. His attempts were unavailing, but the unfortunate invalid liad the happiness of becoming acquainted with Shukowsky, the eminent Russian poet, who acted as tutor and companion to the prince. Partly, through his influence, the Baron and some other political exiles were restored to a qualified degree of liberty. Nicholas permitted them to quit Siberia and enter the ranks as soldiers in the army serving in the Caucasus. So far as Rosen was concerned, the act of liberation was little else than a mockery. How could a poor wretch who crept about on crutches act as a soldier? He did not, however, lose the chance of gaining his freedom, and forthwith set out by slow stages with his family-he reclining on peculiarly shaped pillows-to accomplish a fresh journey of more than two thousand miles to the vicinity of the Black Sea. Passing through Tiflis, where things began to assume an Oriental aspect, the wretched exiles at length arrived at their destination, Biely Klutsh. Here the Baron was incorporated in a Mingrelian Jäger regiment, but meanwhile classed as an invalid, and left to gain strength, if possible, at the invigorating sulphur baths of Pjätigorsk. The baths had a beneficial effect, without, however, curing the lameness, and a benevolent doctor urged the propriety of applying for a discharge from military engagements. By friendly assistance, the discharge was procured. The order for release came in January 1839, and Baron Rosen was allowed to return home and live the life of a private person, under police surveillance, after an exile which had extended over thirteen years. Such is a rapid summary of a narrative which affords an instructive insight into the system of judicial exile in Russia. Possibly, since 1839, under the mild and intelligent sway of the present emperor, the system has undergone some desirable modifications; at the best, however, it cannot fail to be fraught with horrors, of which we in this country can entertain but an imperfect conception. In conclusion, we should say that the author of the narrative says nothing of the plots or schemes of the secret societies in which he had been unhappily involved. All we can guess is, that for indiscreetly aiming at some sort of political reforms, such as are freely and daily discussed in England, he suffered a punishment more hideous than the penal servitude which we assign to the most degraded malefactors. MURPHY'S MASTER. CHAPTER XV. MAGUIRE'S ULTIMATUM. THE revelation of this view of his patron was to Robert in itself sufficiently overwhelming, but what was still more terrible was the reflection, ‘And with this man I have cast in my lot, and not only mine, but Lizzy's!' In the bitterness of his heart he groaned and bowed his face between his hands. 'Come, come, look up,' cried Maguire encouragingly; it is no use hiding one's head like an ostrich, to escape from an inevitable position. You called me a Liar, you know, and that perhaps made me acquaint you with these little particulars more abruptly than was judicious. You believe me now, I suppose; or will do so when you have read that newspaper?' MURPHY'S MASTER. 'Take it away!' ejaculated Robert, with a gesture of loathing; I am convinced enough.' "The It is more than likely, however, that the captain 'Irresponsible for it! How could that be?' 'Poor miserable man!' exclaimed Robert pityingly. Well, no, not poor,' answered Maguire coolly. The one sensible thing that Frank Kavanagh ever did, or rather which (as I shrewdly guess) Murphy did for him, was to carry off from Falston Hall that parcel of bank-notes which his father had designed for him, and always kept in his desk ready for an emergency-though he little guessed of what sort the emergency would be. I believe this amounted to many thousand pounds, from which we on Murphy's Island have already reaped the benefit.' 'Now, that is what I call a proof of sense,' observed Maguire, in a congratulatory tone. object of a newspaper writer is, of course, to harrow the feelings; and therefore, when you want any dramatic incident communicated to you in a delicate way, it is better to trust to a friend. What happened at Falston, stripped of cant and sensation, was, as I understand, something of this kind: the brothers had a private interview, in which Frank talked of his mother's memory and his father's dying wishes, and Lewis listened, not with very particular attention, his thoughts being probably entirely engrossed by his own affairs; but when the question was directly put to him: "Are you going to fulfil the promise that you gave our father in my presence, with regard to the distribution of his property, or do you intend to take the whole, since the law awards it you?" I have not the least. doubt that he replied, with great distinctness: "I mean to take the whole." Perhaps he added (for he was a consummate hypocrite), that painful as it was to him to arrive at this determination, he had done so no less on public grounds than private, inasmuch as he should deem it dangerous to the state to intrust a man of "dear Frank's" revolutionary sentiments with the means to carry them into practical effect. At all events, whatever he Frank's head had long said, he said too much. been "going:" from a child, he was subject to paroxysms of passion, which, compared with what people call "temper," were as a tornado to a capful of wind; and of late years they had been growing He had begun to drink, too, You though not to the extent that he drinks now. must forgive him that, since it is done, I fancy, to drown the remembrance of the event which I am now about to relate, and for which he is so foolish as to entertain remorse. Well, being in this hotheaded state, and excessively exasperated, while the other was contemptuous and arrogant, there is no wonder that there were high words; then-I don't know who struck them first, that is a nice question for the lawyers-then blows. In the end ensued a dreadful rough-and-tumble, out of which Lewis never came at all, for he was left dead on the hearth-rug, with the front lock of his brother's hair in his hand, which he had torn up by the roots. The reason Frank always wears a skull-cap is to conceal that wound; and now you know why the officer at Liverpool was so careful to pass his hand over everybody's head who at all resembled Kavanagh. The disguise he had assumed as Denton, however, pulled him safely through that ordeal, which was fortunate for the inspector also, who would, without doubt, have shewn his sagacity at After the trouble and the expense of his life. pains that Murphy and the rest of us had been at to get the young master safely on board the Star, and surrounded by his own friends, it is not likely that we would have let him be snatched from their hands at the moment of escape.' worse and worse. But he is not safe now,' ejaculated Robert: directly he disclosed who he was, he surely became liable to apprehension, even on board the Star!' No doubt, observed Maguire grimly; if there had been anybody fool enough to apprehend him. 'You think, then, that Mr Frank was mad, or nearly so, before the aggravation of his brother's meanness made him lose all command over himself and commit this terrible deed?' observed Robert, shocked by the revelation of his patron's crime, and genuinely anxious to believe him guiltless of it. 'I believe he was always crack-brained,' answered Maguire coolly (though his friends used to call it enthusiasm), and that the fissure has been growing wider and wider.' 'And yet,' urged Robert, on all occasions on which I have seen him, save one, he has appeared sane enough.' 'You have seen him in lucid intervals, and besides, the voyage itself greatly benefited him for the time; but since he has been ashore here, matters have been infinitely worse: remorse and drink together have undermined the remainder of his wits, and they have fallen in, higgledy-piggledy.' 'Then, if he was to be sent for from England, and taken prisoner, you don't think he could' Robert hesitated, for he did not forget that Kavanagh had been uniformly kind to him, and had trusted to his bare word in the weightiest matters. 'Don't think he could be hanged? you were going to say, man. No, he could not be hanged, if that is any sort of satisfaction to you. But what interests me greatly more than that far-off contingency is, how his madness is likely to affect us in the meantime. There is no lunatic asylum on Murphy's Island; and if there were, it would be as much as our lives were worth to attempt to shut him up in it. For Murphy will never believe, even when he sees him raving, that his master is anything more than a little eccentric, and would obey his wildest mandate rather than the advice of the sagest of men; while as for the tag-rag and bob-tail over at the harbour yonder, they will believe anything that Murphy tells them. For all we know, when the fit is on him, Kavanagh may give orders for our immediate execution, as indeed has happened to one poor wretch already.' 'You don't mean to say that he put a man to death?' exclaimed Robert in horrified accents. 'Indeed, I do, though. He was tried by a sort of court-martial for trying to make off with the "gig" -it is now made a capital offence, by-the-bye, to leave the island without Kavanagh's permission-and they strung him up in front of Government House. As it happened, it was only a Tipperary boy, but it might have been you or me. Well, all this brings me round to the matter which I had in my mind when I brought you over to New Town. The people here are not quite such fools as they are at the harbour; there, the boys are so entirely under Murphy's thumb, that they did not dare to whisper to you that the governor was ill, whereas here, you were informed of it, as you remember, readily enough; and, moreover, I am glad to say, they have had a disagreement with one another. Now, "When fools quarrel, wise men come by their own," says the proverb, or something to that effect. And now perhaps you see at what I have been driving?' 'Not exactly; no, I confess I don't,' said Robert suspiciously. His former interest in, and even regard for, Maguire was indeed swept away. The circumstances in which they were now placed no longer admitted of his looking upon that personage as a harmless nonentity: the calm and almost approving manner in which he had narrated this story of Cain and Abel had shocked the lad to the core; what he had taken for candour in the man, he now perceived to be an unblushing recklessness; he feared his sanity almost as much as Kavanagh's madness. 'You are duller than you are wont to be, Master Chesney,' observed Maguire. Why, is it not clear that you and I are the only two men on this island with brains in their head, save one who has them muddled? If this madman and his man were out of the way, the rest, look you, would be our subjects.' Granting that,' answered Robert quietly, for the sake of the argument: how do you propose to persuade Mr Kavanagh and Murphy to leave the island?' 'I think I could persuade them,' answered Maguire with a cold smile. At all events, you may leave that matter to me. I have influence with both factions, and you are not disliked by either; moreover, you will have the advantage of such authority as Kavanagh may leave behind him. Why should we not make alliance and reign together peaceably over this little territory? I don't pretend to conceal from you that if you had more spirit, or had not been spoilt by a mawkish bringingup, that I should have proposed a bolder game such as I very nearly persuaded Kavanagh to play.' You would have revived the days you spent on board the Mother Carey, on shore, I presume?' said Robert in as indifferent a tone as he could compass. 'I would, by Heaven!' answered Maguire roundly. We could have had our own ship in yonder harbour, and done a good trade, of which no one would have suspected us; and when folks in little vessels dropped in upon us by accident, we should have welcomed them so warmly that they would never have gone away. But you are not fit for such bold strokes, so I think of them no longer. We must be content to call this isle our own, and to have no masters, which is no small thing in these days. You, I hear, are expecting your sweetheart from England'- In spite of himself, here Robert could not repress a shudder; how terrible had the bare idea become of bringing his Lizzy to such a spot; too horrible even to think of, but that he had already formed a plan in his own mind by which such a catastrophe should be averted. 'Well, I have also fixed my affections upon a young lass from King's County,' continued Maguire; 'to be sure they are not at present returned, but no doubt they will be, when I can call myself cogovernor. Altogether, the prospect seems to me very fair and promising for us both, but especially for yourself, who are far the younger man, and will have the sole command when I am underground, or feeding the fishes. So stands my offer, lad, in return for your alliance. I regret to add-but then it is so much better to be explicit that if you should decline it, there is an unpleasant reverse to the picture. I have still the ear of the governor, when at least he can be got to listen to anybody, and also the confidence of Murphy; and I have only to whisper that this ambitious scheme has sprung from your own head, instead of mine, to make you dance in the air in front of Government House. Just think over the whole matter, lad, and then answer me "Yes" or "No." Here Maguire lit his pipe, leant back in his chair, and began to occupy himself with the newspaper, so as not to interfere with his young friend's deliberations. Robert had already made up his mind as to his future course of conduct, but he thought it better to appear undecided, and to temporise as much as possible. 'Indeed, Mr Maguire,' returned he, after a considerable pause, all that you have told me is so strange and unlooked-for, that I must be forgiven for saying that I can promise nothing until I have satisfied myself of the facts you have narrated with my own eyes and ears. Until I have convinced myself that Mr Kavanagh is mad, I don't see how you can reasonably expect me to deny him my allegiance.' That would be well enough in a believer in the Divine Right of kings,' observed Maguire carelessly, 'but in a person of such delicate moral scruples as yourself, the fact of his having committed a double murder ought to weigh somewhat, I should have thought, against his authority. However, there is no hurry about anything in Murphy's Island, and you have only to see its governor, to be convinced of what I have told you about him. Preserve your decision till to-morrow, or the next day, for that matter, and then tell me frankly whether we are to be friends or foes. The tone of the speaker was still one of conciliation; but he spoke with knitted brows, and with the air of one who is putting a strong restraint upon himself; moreover, there was a suspicious searching glance in his keen gray eyes, that bespoke but little confidence in the decision, which he had requested, proving favourable to his views. You 'Well,' said he rising, I shall now leave you to make yourself at home in your new house. will be over at the harbour before night, I daresay; and in the meantime, good-bye to you.' CHAPTER XVI.-THE CONSTITUTION. Yes; Robert certainly intended to be over at the harbour before night. It was his fixed resolve to 1 1 1 |