The Story of a Siberian Exile; Followed by a Narrative of Recent Events in PolandPiotrowski, Rufin
History
The Story of a Siberian Exile; Followed by a Narrative of Recent Events in Poland
Piotrowski, Rufin
Exiles -- Russia (Federation) -- Siberia; Polish question; Prisons -- Russia (Federation) -- Siberia
Somewhat revived by the food and by sleep, I now became sensible of
an annoyance which I could not at first account for. Presently I
discovered that I was literally covered with vermin, the mattress,
and the room were filthy with them, and the handcuffs prevented my
even attempting to destroy them. I looked round and caught two eyes
fixed upon me; it was the sentry on guard in the corridor, who had
orders to watch all my movements through the aperture cut in my door;
in vain, however, did I call to him, he paid me not the slightest
attention; but happily for me on the following day the Commandant of
the fortress caused me to be moved into the opposite cell, and had my
room purified. He gave orders at the same time to have me shaved; an
officer assisted at the operation, and when I requested that they would
leave my whiskers, I received an answer which, all things considered,
was rather out of place: ‘No, no; we will leave you nothing but your
moustaches, and that will be quite in the Polish fashion; the ancient
Poles wore nothing but a moustache.’ I soon returned to my cell, now
a little cleaner than it had been; but what most moved my gratitude
towards the Commandant was that he had my handcuffs taken off; and with
the recovered liberty of my hands I recovered, strange to say, all the
freedom and former energy of my mind. I kept constantly stretching out
my arms, hardly daring to believe in my happiness, and I felt like a
child escaped from its swaddling bands.
A week, or nearly a week, now elapsed without bringing any notable
change in my position. My food was wholesome and plentiful, the room
was cleansed every day, but the want of air and of exercise had
completely enervated me. My chains prevented my walking, or even
standing. I remained almost always lying on my paillasse, rising in
general only in the morning to kneel and repeat the Lord’s Prayer. The
nights were long and without any light, and their quiet was only broken
by the sound of the hammers, when they fitted or unfitted the fetters
of some of the prisoners. Although it was forbidden to the sentries
and keepers to speak to me, I soon managed to learn that all my accused
friends from Kaminieç were in the same prison with myself, though
lodged in different corridors.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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