The house of the dead : $b or, Prison life in SiberiaDostoyevsky, Fyodor
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The house of the dead : $b or, Prison life in Siberia
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Exiles -- Fiction; Siberia (Russia) -- Fiction
The convict prison had not at first for me the significance it was
afterwards to assume. I was at first, in spite of my attention, unable
to understand many facts which were staring me in the face. I was
naturally first struck by the most salient points, but I saw them from a
false point of view, and the only impression they made upon me was one
of unmitigated sadness. What contributed above all to this result was my
meeting with A----f, the convict who had come to the prison before me,
and who had astonished me in such a painful manner during the first few
days. The effect of his baseness was to aggravate my moral suffering,
already sufficiently cruel. He offered the most repulsive example of the
kind of degradation and baseness to which a man may fall when all
feeling of honour has perished within him. This young man of noble
birth--I have spoken of him before--used to repeat to the Major all that
was done in the barracks, and in doing so through the Major’s
body-servant Fedka. Here is the man’s history.
Arrived at St. Petersburg before he had finished his studies, after a
quarrel with his parents, whom his life of debauchery had terrified, he
had not shrunk for the sake of money from doing the work of an informer.
He did not hesitate to sell the blood of ten men in order to satisfy his
insatiable thirst for the grossest and most licentious pleasures. At
last he became so completely perverted in the St. Petersburg taverns and
houses of ill-fame, that he did not hesitate to take part in an affair
which he knew to be conceived in madness--for he was not without
intelligence. He was condemned to exile and ten years’ hard labour in
Siberia. One might have thought that such a frightful blow would have
shocked him, that it would have caused some reaction and brought about a
crisis; but he accepted his new fate without the least confusion. It did
not frighten him; all that he feared in it was the necessity of working,
and of giving up for ever his habits of debauchery. The name of convict
had no effect but to prepare him for new acts of baseness, and more
hideous villainies than any he had previously perpetrated.
“I am now a convict, and can crawl at ease, without shame.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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