The house of the dead or, Prison life in Siberia
entered the convict prison in the most laughable manner (it took place
before my arrival). Suddenly one evening a report was spread in the
convict prison that a Jew had been brought there, who at that moment was
being shaved in the guard-house, and that he was immediately afterwards
to be taken to the barracks. As there was not a single Jew in the
prison, the convicts looked forward to his entry with impatience, and
surrounded him as soon as he passed the great gates. The officer on
service took him to the civil prison, and pointed out the place where
his plank bedstead was to be.
Isaiah Fomitch held in his hand a bag containing the things given to
him, and some other things of his own. He put down his bag, took his
place at the plank bedstead, and sat down there with his legs crossed,
without daring to raise his eyes. People were laughing all round him.
The convicts ridiculed him by reason of his Jewish origin. Suddenly a
young convict left the others, and came up to him, carrying in his hand
an old pair of summer trousers, dirty, torn, and mended with old rags.
He sat down by the side of Isaiah Fomitch, and struck him on the
shoulder.
“Well, my dear fellow,” said he, “I have been waiting for the last six
years; look up and tell me how much you will give for this article,”
holding up his rags before him.
Isaiah Fomitch was so dumbfounded that he did not dare to look at the
mocking crowd, with mutilated and frightful countenances, now grouped
around him, and did not speak a single word, so frightened was he. When
he saw who was speaking to him he shuddered, and began to examine the
rags carefully. Every one waited to hear his first words.
“Well, cannot you give me a silver rouble for it? It is certainly worth
that,” said the would-be vendor smiling, and looking towards Isaiah
Fomitch with a wink.
“A silver rouble! no; but I will give you seven kopecks.”
These were the first words pronounced by Isaiah Fomitch in the convict
prison. A loud laugh was heard from all sides.
“Seven kopecks! Well, give them to me; you are lucky, you are indeed.
Look! Take care of the pledge, you answer for it with your head.”
“With three kopecks for interest; that will make ten kopecks you will
owe me,” said the Jew, at the same time slipping his hand into his
pocket to get out the sum agreed upon.
“Three kopecks interest--for a year?”
“No, not for a year, for a month.”
“You are a terrible screw, what is your name?”
“Isaiah Fomitch.”
“Well, Isaiah Fomitch, you ought to get on. Good-bye.”
The Jew examined once more the rags on which he had lent seven kopecks,
folded them up, and put them carefully away in his bag. The convicts
continued to laugh at him.
In reality every one laughed at him, but, although every prisoner owed
him money, no one insulted him; and when he saw that every one was well
disposed towards him, he gave himself haughty airs, but so comic that
they were at once forgiven.
Luka, who had known many Jews when he was at liberty, often teased him,
less from malice than for amusement, as one plays with a dog or a
parrot. Isaiah Fomitch knew this and did not take offence.
“You will see, Jew, how I will flog you.”
“If you give me one blow I will return you ten,” replied Isaiah Fomitch
valiantly.
“Scurvy Jew.”
“As scurvy as you like; I have in any case plenty of money.”
“Bravo! Isaiah Fomitch. We must take care of you. You are the only Jew
we have; but they will send you to Siberia all the same.”
“I am already in Siberia.”
“They will send you farther on.”
“Is not the Lord God there?”
“Of course, he is everywhere.”
“Well, then! With the Lord God, and money, one has all that is
necessary.”
“What a fellow he is!” cries every one around him.
The Jew sees that he is being laughed at, but does not lose courage. He
gives himself airs. The flattery addressed to him causes him much
pleasure, and with a high, squealing falsetto, which is heard throughout
the barracks, he begins to sing, “la, la, la, la,” to an idiotic and
ridiculous tune; the only song he was heard to sing during his stay at
the convict prison. When he made my acquaintance, he assured me solemnly
that it was the song, and the very air, that was sung by 600,000 Jews,
small and great, when they crossed the Red Sea, and that every Israelite
was ordered to sing it after a victory gained over an enemy.
The eve of each Saturday the convicts came from the other barracks to
ours, expressly to see Isaiah Fomitch celebrating his Sabbath. He was so
vain, so innocently conceited, that this general curiosity flattered him
immensely. He covered the table in his little corner with a pedantic
air of importance, opened a book, lighted two candles, muttered some
mysterious words, and clothed himself in a kind of chasuble, striped,
and with sleeves, which he preserved carefully at the bottom of his
trunk. He fastened to his hands leather bracelets, and finally attached
to his forehead, by means of a ribbon, a little box, which made it seem
as if a horn were starting from his head. He then began to pray. He read
in a drawling voice, cried out, spat, and threw himself about with wild
and comic gestures. All this was prescribed by the ceremonies of his
religion. There was nothing laughable or strange in it, except the airs
which Isaiah Fomitch gave himself before us in performing his
ceremonies. Then he suddenly covered his head with both hands, and began
to read with many sobs. His tears increased, and in his grief he almost
lay down upon the book his head with the ark upon it, howling as he did
so; but suddenly in the midst of his despondent sobs he burst into a
laugh, and recited with a nasal twang a hymn of triumph, as if he were
overcome by an excess of happiness.
“Impossible to understand it,” the convicts would sometimes say to one
another. One day I asked Isaiah Fomitch what these sobs signified, and
why he passed so suddenly from despair to triumphant happiness. Isaiah
Fomitch was very pleased when I asked him these questions. He explained
to me directly that the sobs and tears were provoked by the loss of
Jerusalem, and that the law ordered the pious Jew to groan and strike
his breast; but at the moment of his most acute grief he was suddenly to
remember that a prophecy had foretold the return of the Jews to
Jerusalem, and he was then to manifest overflowing joy, to sing, to
laugh, and to recite his prayers with an expression of happiness in his
voice and on his countenance. This sudden passage from one phase of
feeling to another delighted Isaiah Fomitch, and he explained to me this
ingenious prescription of his faith with the greatest satisfaction.
One evening, in the midst of his prayers, the Major entered, followed by
the officer of the guard and an escort of soldiers. All the prisoners
got immediately into line before their camp-bedsteads. Isaiah Fomitch
alone continued to shriek and gesticulate. He knew that his worship was
authorised, and that no one could interrupt him, so that in howling in
the presence of the Major he ran no risk. It pleased him to throw
himself about beneath the eyes of the chief.
The Major approached within a few steps. Isaiah Fomitch turned his back
to the table, and just in front of the officer began to sing his hymn of
triumph, gesticulating and drawling out certain syllables. When he came
to the part where he had to assume an expression of extreme happiness,
he did so by blinking with his eyes, at the same time laughing and
nodding his head in the direction of the Major. The latter was at first
much astonished; then he burst into a laugh, called out, “Idiot!” and
went away, while the Jew still continued to shriek. An hour later, when
he had finished, I asked him what he would have done if the Major had
been wicked enough and foolish enough to lose his temper.
“What Major?”
“What Major! Did you not see him? He was only two steps from you, and
was looking at you all the time.” But Isaiah Fomitch assured me as
seriously as possible that he had not seen the Major, for while he was
saying his prayers he was in such a state of ecstasy that he neither saw
nor heard anything that was taking place around him.
I can see Isaiah Fomitch wandering about on Saturday throughout the
prison, endeavouring to do nothing, as the law prescribes to every Jew.
What improbable anecdotes he told me! Every time he returned from the
synagogue he always brought me some news of St. Petersburg, and the most
absurd rumours imaginable from his fellow Jews of the town, who
themselves had received them at first hand. But I have already spoken
too much of Isaiah Fomitch.
In the whole town there were only two public baths. The first, kept by a
Jew, was divided into compartments, for which one paid fifty kopecks. It
was frequented by the aristocracy of the town.
The other bath, old, dirty, and close, was destined for the people. It
was there that the convicts were taken. The air was cold and clear. The
prisoners were delighted to get out of the fortress and have a walk
through the town. During the walk their laughter and jokes never ceased.
A platoon of soldiers, with muskets loaded, accompanied us. It was quite
a sight for the town’s-people. When we had reached our destination, the
bath was so small that it did not permit us all to enter at once. We
were divided into two bands, one of which waited in the cold room while
the other one bathed in the hot one. Even then, so narrow was the room
that it was difficult for us to understand how half of the convicts
could stand together in it.
Petroff kept close to me. He remained by my side without my having
begged him to do so, and offered to rub me down. Baklouchin, a convict
of the special section, offered me at the same time his services. I
recollect this prisoner, who was called the “Sapper,” as the gayest and
most agreeable of all my companions. We had become intimate friends.
Petroff helped me to undress, because I was generally a long time
getting my things off, not being yet accustomed to the operation; and it
was almost as cold in the dressing-room as outside the doors.
It is very difficult for a convict who is still a novice to get his
things off, for he must know how to undo the leather straps which fasten
on the chains. These leather straps are buckled over the shirt, just
beneath the ring which encloses the leg. One pair of straps costs sixty
kopecks, and each convict is obliged to get himself a pair, for it would
be impossible to walk without their assistance. The ring does not
enclose the leg too tightly. One can pass the finger between the iron
and the flesh; but the ring rubs against the calf, so that in a single
day the convict who walks without leather straps, gets his skin broken.
To take off the straps presents no difficulty. It is not the same with
the clothes. To get the trousers off is in itself a prodigious
operation, and the same may be said of the shirt whenever it has to be
changed. The first who gave us lessons in this art was Koreneff, a
former chief of brigands, condemned to be chained up for five years. The
convicts are very skilful at the work, and do it readily.
I gave a few kopecks to Petroff to buy soap and a bunch of the twigs
with which one rubs oneself in the bath. Bits of soap were given to the
convicts, but they were not larger than pieces of two kopecks. The soap
was sold in the dressing-room, as well as mead, cakes of white flour,
and boiling water; for each convict received but one pailful, according
to the agreement made between the proprietor of the bath and the
administration of the prison. The convicts who wished to make themselves
thoroughly clean, could for two kopecks buy another pailful, which the
proprietor handed to them through a window pierced in the wall for that