Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky (211 page)

I must say a few words about this particular ‘grievance.’

Some of the convicts had been transported as the result of a ‘grievance,’ and these were the most articulate, especially one Martinoff, who had formerly served in the Hussars, an eager, restless, and choleric, but worthy and truthful fellow. Another, Vassili Antonoff, could work himself up into a rage coolly and collectedly; he generally wore an impudent expression and smiled sarcastically, but he, too, was honest, a man of his word, and of no mean education. I will not describe them all; they were numerous. Petroff hurried from one group to another. He spoke few words, but he was quite as excited as anyone else, for he was the first to run out of the barrack when the others assembled in the courtyard.

Our sergeant, who was acting sergeant-major, was quickly on the scene, and quite alarmed. The convicts fell into ranks, and politely asked him to inform the governor that they wished to speak with him and ask him a few questions. Behind the sergeant stood all the invalids, in rank and facing the convicts. The sergeant, on hearing their request, was frightened almost out of his wits; but he dared not refuse to go and report to the governor, for if the convicts mutinied, God only knew what might happen. All our officers had proved themselves completely incompetent in handling prisoners. Besides, even if nothing worse happened, if the convicts thought better of it and dispersed, the sergeant remained in duty bound to inform the authorities of the occurrence. Pale, and trembling with fright, he hurried off to the governor, without attempting to reason with the convicts. He realized, no doubt, that they were not inclined to listen.

Without having the least idea of what was going on, I joined the ranks (it was only later that I heard the earlier details of the story). I thought there was going to be a roll-call, but could not see the soldiers who checked the lists. Surprised, I began to look about me. The men’s faces were working with emotion, and some were ghostly pale. They were sternly silent, and seemed to be thinking of what they should say to the governor. I observed that many of them seemed to wonder at my presence among them, but they looked away from me. No doubt they thought it strange that I should come and take part in their demonstrations, and could scarcely believe their eyes. But they turned again to look at me with curiosity.

‘What are you doing here?’ said Vassili Antonoff, in a loud, rude voice; he happened to be close to me, and a little apart from the rest. He had always hitherto been scrupulously polite.

I looked at him perplexed and trying to understand what he meant; I began to see that something unusual was afoot in the prison.

‘Yes, indeed, what are you about here? Get back to barracks,’ said a young soldier-convict whom I had never met till then, a good, quiet lad. ‘This has nothing to do with you,’ he added.

‘Haven’t we fallen in?’ I answered. ‘Isn’t there going to be a roll-call?’

‘Why,
he’s
here, too,’ cried one of them.

‘Iron-nose,’
1
said another.

‘Fly-killer,’ added a third, with inexpressible contempt for me in his voice. This new nickname caused a general burst of laughter.

‘These fellows are in clover everywhere. We’re in prison doing hard labour, I rather fancy; they get wheat bread and sucking-pig, like the great lords they are. Don’t you get private supplies of food? What are you doing here?’

‘You’ve no business here,’ said Koulikoff brusquely, taking me by the hand and leading me out of the ranks.

He was himself very pale; his dark eyes sparkled with fire, and he had bitten bis under Up till the blood came. He was not one of those who awaited the governor’s arrival without losing his self-possession.

I liked to look at Koulikoff battling in circumstances like these; he appeared in his true colours in all his strength and weakness. He struck an attitude, but he did know how to act. I think he would have gone to his death with a certain affected elegance. While everybody was insulting me by their words or tone of voice, his politeness was greater than ever; but he spoke in firm and resolute accents which admitted of no reply.

‘We are here on business of our own, Alexander Petrovitch,

1 An insulting phrase which is untranslatable.

and you’ve got to keep out of it. Go where you like and wait till it’s over… here, your people are in the kitchens, go there.’

‘They’re in hot quarters down there.’

I did in fact see the Poles at the open window of the kitchen, in company with a good many other convicts. I hardly knew what to do but went there followed by laughter, abuse, and those muffled growls that are the prison substitute for the hissings and cat-calls of the world outside.

‘He doesn’t like it at all! Chu, chu, chu! Seize him!’

I had never been so bitterly insulted since my arrival. It was a very painful situation, but no more than was to be expected in the abnormal excitement under which the men were labouring. In the ante-room I met Tvski, a young nobleman of not much information but of firm, generous character. The others excepted him from the hatred they entertained for convicts of noble birth; they were almost fond of him. His every gesture denoted a brave and upright man.

‘What are you doing, Goriantchikoff?’ he called out. ‘Come here, come here!’

‘But what’s it all about?’

‘They are going to make a formal complaint. Haven’t you heard? It won’t do them a bit of good. Who’ll pay any attention to convicts? They’ll try to find out the ringleaders, and if we’re among them they’ll blame it all on us. Just remember what we’ve been transported for. They’ll only get a whipping, but we shall be put on trial. The governor detests us all, and would be only too happy to ruin us; all their sins will fall on our shoulders.’

‘The convicts would bind us hand and foot and sell us outright,’ added Mtski, when we reached the kitchen.

‘They’d never have mercy on
us,’
added Tvski.

Besides the noblemen there were in the kitchen about thirty other prisoners who did not wish to join in the general complaint, some because they were afraid, others because of their conviction that the whole proceeding would prove quite useless. Akim Akimitch, who was a decided opponent of everything that savoured of complaint, or that could interfere with discipline and the usual routine, waited with keen interest to see the end of the business, about which he did not care a jot. He was perfectly convinced that the authorities would suppress it on the spot.

Isaiah Fomitch’s nose drooped visibly as he listened with a
sort of fearful curiosity to our conversation; he was much disturbed. With the Polish nobles were some inferior persons of the same nation, as well as some Russians-timid, dull, silent fellows, who had not dared to join the rest, and who waited with melancholy looks to see what the issue would be. There were also some morose, discontented convicts who remained in the kitchen not because they were afraid, but because they believed this half-revolt an absurdity which could not succeed. It seemed to me that these fellows were considerably disturbed, and their faces were quite unsteady. They saw clearly that they were in the right and that the issue of the movement would be what they had foretold, but they had a sort of feeling that they were traitors who had sold their comrades to the governor. Jolkin-the long-headed Siberian peasant who had been sent to hard labour for coining, the man who obtained for himself Koulikoff ‘s veterinary practice-was also there, as well as the old man from Starodoub. None of the cooks had left their post, perhaps because they looked upon themselves as being more closely related to the authorities of the place, whom it would therefore be unbecoming to oppose.

‘For all that,’ said I to Mtski, ‘with the exception of these fellows, everyone’s involved’; and no doubt I spoke in a way which betrayed my misgivings.

‘I wonder what in the world
we
have to do with it?’ growled B.

‘We should have risked a good deal more than they if we’d joined them, shouldn’t we?
Je haïs ces brigands.
Why, do you think they’ll manage to pull it off? I can’t see what they want, putting their heads in the lion’s mouth, the fools.’

‘It’ll all come to nothing,’ said someone, an obstinate, sour-tempered old fellow. With which Almazoff, who was also with us, heartily agreed.

‘Some fifty of them will get a
good beating, and that’s all the good they’ll get out of it.’

‘Here’s the governor!’ cried someone, and everybody
ran
to the windows.

The governor had arrived, spectacles and all, looking evil as might be, towering with rage, and red as a turkey-cock. He strode in silence right up to the line. In crises like this he showed uncommon pluck and presence of mind, but it ought not to be overlooked that he was nearly always half-seas over. Just then his greasy cap, with its yellow border, and his tarnished silver epaulettes, gave him a Mephisto-phelian appearance in my excited fancy. Behind him came the quartermaster, Diatloff, who was quite a personage in the establishment, for he was really at the back of all official proceedings. He was an extremely capable and cunning fellow, and enjoyed great influence with the governor. He was by no means a bad sort, and the convicts were generally well inclined towards him. The sergeant followed with three or four soldiers, no more. He had already been severely reprimanded, and there was plenty more of the same to come, if he had only known it. The convicts, who had remained uncovered, caps in hand, from the moment they sent for the governor, stiffened to attention, every man shifting his weight to the other leg. They remained there, motionless, and awaited his first word, or rather his first shout.

They had not long to wait. Before he had uttered a single coherent word, the governor began yelling at the top of his voice; he was beside himself with rage. We saw him from the windows storming down their line, every now and again shooting an angry question. As we were a fair distance off, we could not hear what he said or their replies. We only heard his shouts, or rather what seemed like shouting, groaning, and grunting all beautifully blended.

‘Scoundrels, mutineers! To the cat with ye! Whips and sticks! The ringleaders?
You’
re
a ringleader!’ throwing himself at one of them.

We did not hear the answer, but a minute later we saw this convict leave the ranks and make for the guard-house.

Another followed, then a third.

‘I’ll have you up, every man of you. I’ll Who’s in the kitchen there?’ he bawled, as he saw us. at the open windows. ‘Come here, the lot of you! Drive ’em all out, every man!’

Diatloff, the quartermaster, came towards the kitchens.

When we told him that
we
were making no complaint he returned and reported to the governor at once.

‘Ah, those fellows are not in it,’ said he, lowering his tone a bit, and much pleased. ‘Never mind, bring them along here.’

We left the kitchen. I could not help feeling humiliated; all of us went along with our heads down.

‘Ah, Prokofief! Jolkin too; and you, Almazof! Here, come here, the whole crowd of you! ‘ cried the governor with a gasp; but he was somewhat softened, his tone was almost affable. ‘Mtski, you’re here too?… Take their  names. Diatloff, take down all the names, the grumblers in one list and the contented ones in another-all, without exception; you’ll give me the list. I’ll have you all before the prison commissionars… I’ll… scoundrels!’

This word list had its effect.

‘We’ve nothing to complain of!’ cried one of the malcontents in a half-strangled voice.

‘Ah, you’ve nothing to complain of? Who’s that? Let all those who have nothing to complain of step out of the ranks.’

‘ All of us, all of us! ‘ others exclaimed.

‘ Ah, the food is all right, then? You’ve been put up to it. Ringleaders, mutineers, eh? So much the worse for them.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ cried a voice in the crowd.

‘Where is the fellow who said that?’ roared the governor, turning quickly in the direction from which the voice had come. ‘ It was you, Rastorgoulef, you. To the guard-house with you.’

Rastorgoulef, a young, chubby fellow of tall stature, left the ranks and went with slow steps to the guard-house. It was not he who had spoken, but as he was called out he dared not contradict.

‘You fellows are too fat. That’s what makes you unruly!’ roared the governor. ‘ You wait, you hulking rascal, in three days you’ll Wait! I’ll have it out with you all. Fall out all those who have no complaint.’

‘We’re not complaining of anything, your Excellency,’ said some of the men dejectedly; the rest preserved an obstinate silence. But the governor wished to hear no more; it was to his own interest to terminate the affair with as little friction as possible.

‘Ah,
now
I see! No one has anything to complain of,’ said he. ‘I knew it, I saw it all. It’s the ringleaders. There are ringleaders, by God,’ he went on, addressing Diadoff. ‘ We must lay our hands on them, every man of them. And now -now-it’s time to go to your work. Drummer, there; drummer, a roll!’

He told them off himself in small detachments. The convicts dispersed sadly and silently, only too glad to get out of his sight. Immediately after the gangs had left, the governor betook himself to the guard-house, where he proceeded to deal with the ‘ringleaders’; but he did not push matters far. It was easy to see that he wanted to be done with the whole business as soon as possible. One of the accused told us later that he had begged for forgiveness, and that the officer had let him go immediately. There can be no doubt that our governor did not feel firm in the saddle; he had had a fright, I fancy; for a mutiny is always a ticklish thing, and although this complaint about the food did not amount really to mutiny (it had been reported only to the govenor and the commanding officer), yet it was an uncomfortable and dangerous affair. What caused him most anxiety was that the prisoners had been unanimous in their movement, so their discontent had to be pacified somehow, at any price. The ringleaders were soon set free. Next day the food was passable, but the improvement did not last long; on the days immediately following the Governor visited the prison more often than usual, and always found some irregularity to be stopped and punished. The sergeant came and went in a puzzled, dazed sort of way, as if he could not get over his stupefaction at what had happened. As to the convicts, it took them a long time to settle down again, but their agitation seemed to wear quite a different character-they were restless and perplexed. Some went about with their heads down, without saying a word; others discussed the event, grumbling and conscious of their helplessness. A good many said biting things about their own proceedings, as though they were thoroughly dissatisfied with themselves.