Rensselaer Republican, Volume 22, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 July 1890 — HORRORS OF SIBERIA. [ARTICLE]

HORRORS OF SIBERIA.

A Tate or Suffering Told by Frank Langowxki, of Detroit. In his Larrativo of the “Count of Monte Cristo,” Alexander Dumas endeavors to establish the proposition that those who have suffered most are capable of enjoying most. If that be true. Count Langowski, an employe at Hudson’s clothing store, has an enormous capacity for appreciating the good things of life, though even his present straitened circumstances do not permit an excessive indulgence in them. Count Langowski, as he would he entitled to be called in Poland, though preferring plain Frank Langowski, resides at 605 Fremont street with his wife and two children. He is very short of stature, very thick set, very white-haired, though only 54 years old, and very cheerful in disposition, notwithstanding his sufferings entitle him to be known as a man of many sorrows. He speaks eight languages, in one of which he detailed to a representative of this paper the thrilling story of his life, how for fourteen yoarsj lie was a Russian political prisoner in the wilds of Siberia-—hated, despised, beaten with stripes, starved and frozen. “It was in 1863 that the Poles rebelled against Russia,” said he, in very fair English. ‘T was then twentyseven years old, single and lived with my father, Count Langowski, on a large farm near Warsaw. My father’s estate was large and he was one of the leading noblemen of the State. The rebel general, Taczanowski, billeted 500 of his troops upon us, and although our family had in no wise participated in the revolt, to refuse the levy meant expatriation. Therefore my father acquiesced. Against these 600 troops Russia sent 3,700 men and sixty cannon. The battle was short and decisive, resulting in the killing and capturing of the whole 500. Six horses fryin our-Stables that had been pressed into service were killed and two of our men who were driving. The third man was whipped nearly to death after the capture, and then bayouetted. I was taken prisoner and soon set out with hundreds of others on our way to Think of a journey of over 3,000 on foot, requiring thirteen months, with heavy chains on each ankle and chained by the wrist to another in a gang of 100 ! That is the way we made the trip, most of the time the weather being bitterly cold, with the meanest kind of clothing, and only allowed seven copecks, less than five cents, a day for food. At night we slept in etapes, long, low log or stone sheds, erected every ten miles along the way, more often without fire than with it, always hungry, always cold, and always in pain from the galling chains. At last, after thirteen months of misery we arrived at the end of our journey, to encounter worse misery still. I was set to work in the quicksilver mines. Three months is as long as any* human being can stand it to work in those mines. Many die in the mines and many soon after leaving them. The fumes of the mereury rot the bones, loosen the teeth and leave the man a total wreck. When I had partly regained my health after this experience, I, with others, was set to digging holes in the ground, -/The holes were not designed for any use whatever, tut were dug just to keep us at work, and it was While thus engaged that I received my first whipping. I was too weak to smooth the side of the hole as nicely as the officer wanted it. and simply told him so. For that I was taken to the whipping bench, laid on my face and fastened down by three thongs, one of which was passed over the neck, one over the body and one over the logs, so arranged that a man cannot make the least movement I received eighty blows with the knout, and was two months and a half in the hospital before I could leave my bed." • ‘How are these knouts constructed?” he was asked. —“They are stout leather, the points of the lashes heavily loaded with lead, and a blow from them in the hands of a strong man is as bad as a stroke from a policeman’s club. I have seen men killed at the third stroke. After my first whipping I received another of 125 lashes for calling a soldier a dog who had bayonetted a prisoner in cold blood. I was nearly killed and it was nearly a year before I could resume work. The scenes of brutality to be witnessed on all sides were simply frightful. The killing of prisoners by the soldiers was terrible. They were under no restraint whatever, and the poor prisoners were even killed for uttering the slightest word in protest against the most horrible murders. Chit of the 96,000 prisoners 6ent to Siberia by the Russian Government at the end of the rebellion, I don’t believe 5,000 ever got back alive. And not one of them guilty of a crime, but simply prisoners of war. But if the fate of the men was hard, that of the women was infinitely more so. No principle of honor or even common decency was observed with ,them. They were whipped with stout gads instead of the knout—that is the. only difference I was ever able to observe. They were debauched, whippel and poisoned to death in the hospitals by hundreds, and every public indecency, heaped upon them. Even their efforts at suicide were laughed at as a joke.” “How are prisoners fed?” “They are divided into squads of 100 With two soldiers, two cooks and a baker to" each squad. One day’s rations for the whole 100 consist of ten pounds of meat, ten pounds of barley and ten pounds of saur kraut, and two pounds of black bread per man. The meat, barley and saur kraut are all cooked in a mess, and while the soldiers, cooks and baker live well, ail that is left for the 100 is dishwater.” “Do the prisoners always wear i ball and chain?” ••Always.”

Mr. Langowski then exhibited nisi ankles, which show great holes when* the ulcers produced by the chains had eaten to the bone. His back still bears the most frightful scars from his flaggelations. “How long were you sentenced for?”! “Six years as a prisoner in chains,! and fix years a prisoner under surveillance. At the end of six years I was obliged to support myself, but was required to report daily to a certain officer. I supported myself by making* cigarettes, and then after thirteen! years was given a passport back to Fo-. land. A man can not travel half a mile in Russia without a passport. I begged my way from town to town, and when about half way back received some money from my sister. On reaching home I found an order from the Czar requiring me to quit! Poland within twenty-four hours on! pain of death. I bad just time to marryj the girl I was betrothed to, and hurried a way. to Cracow, thence to An-i twerp, where a Polish friend assisted) me to America. I have been here ten years, and, although I am very poor, nothing on earth would induce me to leave American soil."