Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky (202 page)

In the first year, or, to be more exact, during the first month of my exile, I went to work with a gang of kiln men to the tileries which were situated two versts from prison. Our job was to repair the kiln in which the bricks were baked during the summer. That morning Mtski and B. pointed out to me a non-commissioned officer who was superintendent of the works. This man was a Pole already well on in years (he was at least sixty). Tall, lean, of decent and even somewhat imposing exterior, he had done long service in Siberia Although he belonged to the lower classes he had been a soldier at the time of the 1830 rising; Mtski and B. loved and esteemed him. He was always reading the Vulgate. I spoke to him, and found his conversation agreeable and intelligent; he could tell an interesting story; he was straightforward and of excellent temper. For two years I never saw him again, but only heard that he had become a ‘case,’ and that they were inquiring into it. And then one fine day they brought him into our room; he had gone raving mad.

He came in yelling, shouting with laughter, and began to dance in the middle of the room with indecent gestures which recalled the dance known as Kamarinskaia.

The convicts were wild with enthusiasm; but, for my part, account for it as you will, I felt utterly miserable. Three days later there was utter confusion: he picked violent quarrels with everyone, fought, groaned, and sang in the dead of night; his aberrations were so outlandish and disgusting as to make our very stomachs turn.

He feared nobody. They put him in a strait jacket, but we were no better off, for he went on quarrelling and fighting all round. At the end of three weeks we unanimously petitioned the chief physician to have the fellow transferred to the other convict ward. But after two days the patients there had him moved back again. As there were now two madmen, each ward continually passed them from one to the other until it was agreed that each should take one at a time, turn and turn about. Everyone breathed more freely when they were removed altogether.

There was another lunatic whom I remember-a very remarkable creature. During the summer they had brought in a condemned man who looked like a solid and vigorous fellow of about forty-five years. His face was sombre and sad, pitted with small-pox, and with little red swollen eyes. He settled in next to me. He was extremely quiet, and spoke to nobody, and seemed utterly absorbed in his own deep reflections.

When night fell he addressed me, and, without a word of preface, told me in a hurried and excited way-as if he were confiding some awful secret-that he was to have two thousand strokes with the rod; but that he had nothing to fear, as Colonel G.’s daughter was taking steps on his behalf.

I looked at him with surprise, feeling sure that a colonel’s daughter could be of little use in such a matter. I had not yet realized what was wrong with him, for he had been admitted to hospital as physically sick, not as a mental case. I then asked him from what illness he suffered.

He answered that he knew nothing about it; that he had been sent here for some reason or other; but that he was in good health, and that the colonel’s daughter had fallen in love with him. Two weeks before she had passed in a carriage before the guard-house, where he was looking through the barred window, and had fallen head over ears in love at the mere sight of him.

After that she had visited the guard-house three times on various pretexts. The first time she had come with her father, ostensibly to visit her brother who was the officer on duty; on the second occasion she had accompanied her mother, to distribute alms to the prisoners. As she passed by she had muttered that she loved him and would get him out of prison.

He told me all this nonsense with minute and exact details; all of it pure figment of his poor disordered brain. He believed whole-heartedly that his punishment would be graciously remitted. He spoke quite calmly and with full assurance of the passionate love he had inspired in the young lady.

That odd, romantic delusion about a young gentlewoman’s love for a man of nearly fifty years, afflicted with a gloomy and disfigured face, only proved the terrible effect produced by fear of the punishment he was to receive upon this poor, timid creature.

It may be that he had really seen someone through the bars of the window, and insanity, germinating under excess of fear, had taken shape and form in the present delusion.

This unfortunate soldier, who, you may be certain, had never given a thought to young ladies, had begotten this romance in his diseased imagination, and clung convulsively to this desperate hope. I listened without interrupting him, and then repeated the story to other patients. They were naturally curious, and questioned him; but he preserved a chastely discreet silence.

Next day the doctor examined him. As the poor mat swore there was nothing wrong with him, he was entered on the list of those to be discharged. When we learned that the physician had scribbled
‘Sanat. est’
against his name it was much too late to warn him. Besides, we were far from certain ourselves what was really the matter with the man.

The error lay with the authorities who had sent him to us without specifying the reason for requiring his admittance to hospital-an unpardonable oversight.

However, two days later the unhappy creature was taken out to be scourged. We understood that he was dumb founded by finding, contrary to his fixed expectation, that he really was to take his punishment. To the last moment he thought he would be pardoned, and when marched out in front of the battalion he began to cry for help.

As there was no longer room in our ward they sent him to the infirmary. I heard that for eight entire days he did not utter a single word, paralysed with misery and bewilderment When his back was healed they took him away, and I neve heard any more about him.

As to the treatment of the sick and the remedies prescribed those who were but slightly indisposed paid no attention whatever to doctor’s orders, and never took their medicine. Generally speaking, those who were more seriously ill were strict in their observance of medical advice. They took their mixtures and powders, and looked after themselves with the greatest care. But they preferred external to internal remedies

Cupping-glasses, leeches, cataplasms, blood-lettings-in all which things the common people have so blind a confidence -were held in high honour in our hospital. Inflictions of that sort were regarded with approval.

I noticed a curious phenomenon which interested me Men who could endure without a murmur the frightful tortures caused by the rods and scourges, howled, grimaced and moaned at the least little ailment. Whether it was all pretence or not I really cannot say.

We had cuppings of a quite peculiar kind. The machine with which instantaneous incisions are made was out of order, so they had to use the lancet.

Twelve incisions are necessary for a cupping; with a machine these are not painful at all, for it makes them instantaneously; with the lancet it is a different matter altogether -the lancet cuts slowly, and causes the patient to suffer. If you have to make ten openings there will be about one hundred and twenty pricks, and these are very painful. I myself had 10 undergo it: besides pain, it caused great nervous irritation, hut the suffering was not so great that one could not help groaning if one tried.

It was laughable to see great, hulking fellows wriggling and howling. One could not help comparing them with a certain type of man who is firm and calm enough in a crisis, but ill-tempered and capricious in the bosom of their families for no reason at all. If dinner is late, for example, they’ll scold and swear; everything annoys them and they fall out with everyone; the more comfort they have, the more troublesome are they to other people. Characters of this sort, which are common enough among the lower orders, were all too numerous in prison because each man’s company was forced upon his neighbour.

Sometimes the prisoners chaffed or insulted the tetchy fellows of whom I have been speaking. These would then hide their discontent: it seemed that a word of abuse was enough to bridle their tongues.

Oustiantsef had no use for a man who whined under the lancet and never let slip an opportunity of rebuking the delinquent. Besides, he was fond of scolding; it was a sort of necessity with him, engendered by illness and also his stupidity. He would gaze at you fixedly for some time, and then treat you to a long speech of threatening and warning, all in a tone of calm and impartial conviction. It seemed as though he thought his function in this world was to watch over order and morality in general.

‘He must poke his nose into everything,’ the prisoners used to laugh, for they pitied him, and did what they could to avoid conflict with him.

‘Can he talk? Why, three wagons wouldn’t be too many to carry away all his chatter.’

‘Well, why not? No one’s going to put up with a mere idiot. What’s there to cry out about at the mere touch of a lancet? What harm in the world do you fancy
that
is going to do you?’

‘Hear, hear!’ another man interrupts. ‘Cupping’s a mere nothing. I know by experience. But the most horrid thing is when they keep pulling your ears. That just shuts you up.’

All the prisoners burst out laughing.

‘Have you had them pulled?’

‘By Jove, yes, I should think he had.’

‘That’s why they stick upright, like hop-poles.’

The fellow in question, Chapkin by name, certainly had long, pointed ears. He had led a vagabond life, but was still quite young, intelligent, and quiet. He used to talk with a sort of dry humour and a show of gravity which made his stories most amusing.

‘How in the world was I to know you had had your ears pulled and lengthened, your brainless idiot? ‘ began Oustiantsef, once more wrathfully addressing Chapkin, who, however, vouchsafed no attention to his companion’s obliging apostrophe.

‘ Well, who did pull your ears for you? ‘ someone asked.

‘Why, the police superintendent, of course! Our offence was wandering abroad and sleeping in the open. We had just arrived at K, I and another tramp called Eptinie; he had no surname, that fellow. On the way we had stayed a little while in the hamlet of Tolmina; yes, there’s actually a hamlet called Tolmina. Well, we get to the town, and are just looking around to see if there’s any business doing, after which we mean to flit. You know, out in the open country you’re as free as air, but it’s not exactly the same thing in the town. First we go into a public-house, and as we open the door we give a sharp look round. What should we see but a sunburnt fellow in a German coat all out at elbows. He walks straight up to us. After chatting about one thing and another he asks us:

‘“Excuse my asking, but have you passports?”

‘“No, we haven’t.”

‘“Nor have we. Incidentally, I’ve a couple of mates with me, also in the service of General Cuckoo.
1
We’ve been seeing a bit of life, and just now haven’t a penny to bless ourselves with. May I take the liberty of asking you to be so good as to order a quart of brandy?”

“‘With the greatest pleasure,” we answer. So we drink together, and they tell us of a place where there’s a real good stroke of business to be done-a house at the end of the town belonging to a wealthy merchant fellow; lots of good things there, so we make up our minds to have a shot at it during the night. There are five of us, and just as we’re starting on the job they nab us, take us to the police-station, and then before the superintendent. “I shall examine them myself,” he says. He lights his pipe, and they bring him in a cup of tea. He was a sturdy fellow with whiskers. Besides us five, there were three other tramps just brought in. You know, comrades, that there’s nothing in this world more funny than a tramp, because he always forgets everything he’s done. You may cudgel his head till you’re tired, but you’ll always get the same answer, that he’s forgotten all about everything.

‘The police superintendent then turns to me and asks me squarely:

‘“Who are you?”

‘I answer just like all the rest of them:

‘“I’ve forgotten all about it, sir.”

‘“Just you wait; I’ve a word or two more to say to you. I know your face.”

‘Then he gives me a good long stare; but I hadn’t seen him anywhere before, that’s a fact.

‘Then he asks another of them: “Who are you?”

‘“Mizzle-and-scud, sir.”

‘“They call you Mizzle-and-scud?”

‘“Precisely that, sir.”

‘“Right, you’re Mizzle-and-scud! And you?” to a third.

‘“Along-o’-him, sir.”

‘“But what’s your name-your name?”

‘“Me? I’m called Along-o’-him, sir.”

‘“Who gave you that name, hound?”

1 i.e. tramps like himself who wander through the forests and hear the birds sing.

‘ “ Very worthy people, sir. There are lots of worthy people about; nobody knows that better than you, sir.”

‘“And who may these
worthy people
be?”

‘“O Lord! It’s slipped my memory, sir. Please, please forgive me.”

‘“So you’ve forgotten them, all of them, these
worthy people?”

‘“Every mother’s son of them, sir.”

‘“But you must have had relations-a father, a mother. Do you remember them?”

‘“I suppose I must have had, sir; but I’ve forgotten about ‘em, my memory’s so bad. Now I come to think about it, I’m sure I had some, sir.”

‘“But where have you been living till now?”

‘ “ In the woods, sir.”

‘“Always in the woods?”

‘“Always in the woods.”

“‘Winter too?”

‘“Never saw any winter, sir.”

‘ “ Get along with you! And you-what’s your name?”

‘ “ Hatchets-and-axes, sir.”

‘“And yours?”

‘ “ Sharp-and-mum, sir.”

‘“And you?”

‘ “ Keen-and-spry, sir.”

‘“And not a soul of you remembers anything that ever happened to you.”

‘“Not a mother’s son of us anything whatever.”

‘He couldn’t help it; he laughed out loud. Then all the others began to laugh at seeing him laugh! But that doesn’t always happen. Sometimes they lay about them, these police, with their fists, till every tooth in your jaw is smashed. Devilish big and strong these fellows, I can tell you.