The house of the dead : $b or, Prison life in SiberiaDostoyevsky, Fyodor
General
The house of the dead : $b or, Prison life in Siberia
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Exiles -- Fiction; Siberia (Russia) -- Fiction
However, two days later the unhappy creature was taken out to be
scourged. We understood that he was dumbfounded by finding, contrary to
his fixed expectation, that he really was to have the punishment. To the
last moment he thought he would be pardoned, and when conducted to the
front of the battalion, he began to cry for help.
As there was no room or bedding-place now in our apartment they sent him
to the infirmary. I heard that for eight entire days he did not utter a
single word, and remained in stupid and misery-stricken mental
confusion. When his back was cured they took him off. I never heard a
single further word about him.
As to the treatment of the sick and the remedies prescribed, those who
were but slightly indisposed paid no attention whatever to the
directions of the doctors, and never took their medicines; while,
speaking generally, those really ill were very careful in following the
doctor’s orders; they took their mixtures and powders; they took all the
possible care they could of themselves; but they preferred external to
internal remedies.
Cupping-glasses, leeches, cataplasms, blood-lettings--in all which
things the populace has so blind a confidence--were held in high honour
in our hospital. Inflictions of that sort were regarded with
satisfaction.
There was one thing quite strange, and to me interesting. Fellows, who
stood without a murmur the frightful tortures caused by the rods and
scourges, howled, and grinned, and moaned for 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 in the skin are produced, was all out of order,
so they had to use the lancet.
For a cupping, twelve incisions are necessary; with a machine these are
not painful at all, for it makes them instantaneously; with the lancet
it is a different affair altogether--that cuts slowly, and makes the
patient suffer. If you have to make ten openings there will be about one
hundred and twenty pricks, and these very painful. I had to undergo it
myself; besides the pain itself, it caused great nervous irritation; but
the suffering was not so great that one could not contain himself from
groaning if he tried.
It was laughable to see great, hulking fellows wriggling and howling.
One couldn’t help comparing them to some men, firm and calm enough in
really serious circumstances, but all ill-temper or caprice in the bosom
of their families for nothing at all; if dinner is late or the like,
then they’ll scold and swear; everything puts them out; they go wrong
with everybody; the more comfortable they really are, the more
troublesome are they to other people. Characters of this sort, common
enough among the lower orders, were but too numerous in our prison, by
reason of our company being forced on one another.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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