“Notes from the House of the Dead. Fyodor Dostoevsky Notes from the House of the Dead

Part one

I. House of the Dead

Our fort stood on the edge of the fortress, right next to the ramparts. It happened that you looked through the cracks of the fence into the light of day: wouldn’t you see at least something? - and all you will see is the edge of the sky and a high earthen rampart overgrown with weeds, and sentries walking back and forth along the rampart, day and night; and you will immediately think that whole years will pass, and you will come up to look through the cracks of the fence in the same way and see the same rampart, the same sentries and the same small edge of the sky, not the same sky that is above the prison, but another, distant, free sky. Imagine a large courtyard, two hundred steps in length and one and a half hundred steps in width, all surrounded in a circle, in the form of an irregular hexagon, by a high fence, that is, a fence of high pillars (pals), dug deep into the ground, firmly leaning against each other with ribs, fastened with transverse planks and pointed at the top: this is the outer fence of the fort. In one of the sides of the fence there is a strong gate, always locked, always guarded day and night by sentries; they were unlocked upon request to be released to work. Behind these gates there was a bright, free world, people lived like everyone else. But on this side of the fence they imagined that world as some kind of impossible fairy tale. It had its own special world, unlike anything else, it had its own special laws, its own costumes, its own morals and customs, and a living dead house, life - like nowhere else, and special people. It is this special corner that I begin to describe.

As you enter the fence, you see several buildings inside it. On both sides of the wide courtyard there are two long one-story log houses. These are barracks. Prisoners housed by category live here. Then, in the depths of the fence, there is another similar log house: this is a kitchen, divided into two artels; further on there is another building where cellars, barns, and sheds are located under one roof. The middle of the yard is empty and forms a flat, fairly large area. Here the prisoners are lined up, verification and roll call take place in the morning, at noon and in the evening, sometimes several more times a day - judging by the suspiciousness of the guards and their ability to quickly count. All around, between the buildings and the fence, there is still quite a large space. Here, at the back of the buildings, some of the prisoners, more unsociable and darker in character, like to walk around during non-working hours, closed from all eyes, and think their little thoughts. Meeting them during these walks, I loved to peer into their gloomy, branded faces and guess what they were thinking about. There was one exile whose favorite pastime was free time, it was considered Pali. There were a thousand and a half of them, and he had them all in his account and in mind. Each fire meant a day for him; Every day he counted one pala and thus, from the remaining number of uncounted pali, he could clearly see how many days he still had left to stay in the prison before the deadline for work. He was sincerely happy when he finished some side of the hexagon. He still had to wait for many years; but in prison there was time to learn patience. I once saw how a prisoner, who had been in hard labor for twenty years and was finally released, said goodbye to his comrades. There were people who remembered how he entered the prison for the first time, young, carefree, not thinking about his crime or his punishment. He was going out gray-haired old man, with a gloomy and sad face. Silently he walked around all our six barracks. Entering each barracks, he prayed to the icon and then bowed low, at the waist, to his comrades, asking them not to remember him unkindly. I also remember how one day a prisoner, formerly a wealthy Siberian peasant, was called to the gate one evening. Six months before this, he received the news that his ex-wife had gotten married, and he was deeply saddened. Now she herself drove up to the prison, called him and gave him alms. They talked for two minutes, both cried and said goodbye forever. I saw his face when he returned to the barracks... Yes, in this place one could learn patience.

When it got dark, we were all taken into the barracks, where we were locked up for the whole night. It was always difficult for me to return from the yard to our barracks. It was a long, low and stuffy room, dimly lit by tallow candles, with a heavy, suffocating smell. Now I don’t understand how I survived in it for ten years. I had three boards on the bunk: that was all my space. About thirty people were accommodated on these same bunks in one of our rooms. In winter they locked it early; We had to wait four hours until everyone fell asleep. And before that - noise, din, laughter, curses, the sound of chains, smoke and soot, shaved heads, branded faces, patchwork dresses, everything - cursed, defamed... yes, a tenacious man! Man is a creature that gets used to everything, and I think this is the best definition of him.

There were only two hundred and fifty of us in the prison - the number was almost constant. Some came, others completed their terms and left, others died. And what kind of people were not here! I think every province, every strip of Russia had its representatives here. There were also foreigners, there were several exiles even from the Caucasian highlanders. All this was divided according to the degree of crime, and therefore, according to the number of years determined for the crime. It must be assumed that there was no crime that did not have its representative here. The main basis of the entire prison population were exiled convicts of the civilian category (strong convicts, as the prisoners themselves naively pronounced). These were criminals, completely deprived of all the rights of fortune, cut off in chunks from society, with their faces branded as an eternal testimony of their rejection. They were sent to work for periods of eight to twelve years and then were sent somewhere in the Siberian volosts as settlers. There were also criminals of the military category, who were not deprived of their status rights, as in general in Russian military prison companies. They were sent for a short period of time; upon completion, they turned back to where they came from, to become soldiers, to the Siberian line battalions. Many of them almost immediately returned back to prison for secondary important crimes, but not for short periods, but for twenty years. This category was called "always". But the "always" were still not completely deprived of all the rights of the state. Finally, there was another special category of the most terrible criminals, mainly military ones, quite numerous. It was called the “special department”. Criminals were sent here from all over Rus'. They themselves considered themselves eternal and did not know the duration of their work. By law, they had to double and triple their work hours. They were kept in prison until the most severe hard labor was opened in Siberia. “You get a prison sentence, but we get penal servitude along the way,” they said to other prisoners. I heard that this category was destroyed. In addition, civil order at our fortress was destroyed, and one general military prison company was established. Of course, along with this, the management also changed. I am describing, therefore, the old days, things that are long past and past...

It was a long time ago; I dream of all this now, as if in a dream. I remember how I entered the prison. It was in the evening, in December. It was already getting dark; people were returning from work; were preparing for verification. The mustachioed non-commissioned officer finally opened the doors for me to this strange house in which I had to stay for so many years, endure so many sensations about which, without actually experiencing them, I could not even have an approximate idea. For example, I could never imagine: what is terrible and painful about the fact that during all ten years of my hard labor I will never, not even for a single minute, be alone? At work, always under escort, at home with two hundred comrades, and never, never alone! However, did I still have to get used to this!

There were casual killers and professional killers, robbers and atamans of robbers. There were simply mazuriks and industrialist vagabonds for found money or for the Stolevo part. There were also those about whom it is difficult to decide: why, it seems, could they come here? Meanwhile, everyone had their own story, vague and heavy, like the fumes of yesterday’s intoxication. In general, they talked little about their past, did not like to talk and, apparently, tried not to think about the past. I even knew of them murderers who were so cheerful, so never thinking, that you could bet that their conscience never reproached them. But there were also dark days, almost always silent. In general, rarely did anyone tell their life, and curiosity was not in fashion, somehow not in custom, not accepted. So, perhaps, occasionally, someone will start talking out of idleness, while another listens coolly and gloomily. No one here could surprise anyone. “We are a literate people!” they often said, with some strange complacency. I remember how one day a drunken robber (you could sometimes get drunk in penal servitude) began to tell how he stabbed a five-year-old boy to death, how he first deceived him with a toy, took him somewhere into an empty barn and stabbed him there. The entire barracks, which had hitherto laughed at his jokes, screamed as one person, and the robber was forced to remain silent; The barracks screamed not out of indignation, but because there was no need to talk about it, because it’s not customary to talk about it. Let me note, by the way, that these people were truly literate, and not even figuratively, but literally. Probably more than half of them could read and write. In what other place, where the Russian people gather in large places, will you separate from them a group of two hundred and fifty people, half of whom would be literate? I heard later that someone began to deduce from similar data that literacy is ruining the people. This is a mistake: there are completely different reasons; although one cannot but agree that literacy develops arrogance among the people. But this is not a drawback at all. All categories differed in their dress: some had half their jackets dark brown and the other gray, and the same on their trousers - one leg was gray and the other dark brown. Once, at work, a Kalash-wielding girl approached the prisoners, peered at me for a long time and then suddenly burst out laughing. “Ugh, how not nice!” she cried, “there wasn’t enough gray cloth, and there wasn’t enough black cloth!” There were also those whose entire jacket was of the same gray cloth, but only the sleeves were dark brown. The head was also shaved in different ways: for some, half of the head was shaved along the skull, for others across.

At first glance one could notice some sharp commonality in this whole strange family; even the harshest, most original personalities, who reigned over others involuntarily, tried to fall into the general tone of the entire prison. In general, I will say that all these people - with a few few exceptions of inexhaustibly cheerful people who enjoyed universal contempt for this - were a gloomy, envious people, terribly vain, boastful, touchy and extremely formalist. The ability not to be surprised by anything was the greatest virtue. Everyone was obsessed with how to behave outwardly. But often the most arrogant look was replaced with lightning speed by the most cowardly one. There were some truly strong people; they were simple and did not grimace. But a strange thing: of these truly strong people, several were vain to the extreme, almost to the point of illness. In general, vanity and appearance were in the foreground. The majority were corrupted and terribly sneaky. Gossip and gossip were continuous: it was hell, pitch darkness. But no one dared to rebel against the internal regulations and accepted customs of the prison; everyone obeyed. There were characters that were sharply outstanding, who obeyed with difficulty, with effort, but still obeyed. Those who came to the prison were too high-handed, too out of step with the standards of freedom, so that in the end they committed their crimes as if not of their own accord, as if they themselves did not know why, as if in delirium, in a state of confusion; often out of vanity, excited to the highest degree. But with us they were immediately besieged, despite the fact that others, before arriving at the prison, terrorized entire villages and cities. Looking around, the newcomer soon noticed that he was in the wrong place, that there was no one left to surprise here, and he visibly humbled himself and fell into the general tone. This general tone was composed from the outside out of some special personal dignity, which was imbued with almost every inhabitant of the prison. As if, in fact, the title of a convict, a decided convict, constituted some kind of rank, and an honorable one at that. No signs of shame or remorse! However, there was also some kind of outward humility, so to speak official, some kind of calm reasoning: “We are a lost people,” they said, “we didn’t know how to live in freedom, now break the green street, check the ranks.” - “I didn’t listen to my father and mother, now listen to the drum skin.” - “I didn’t want to sew with gold, now hit the stones with a hammer.” All this was said often, both in the form of moral teaching and in the form of ordinary sayings and proverbs, but never seriously. All these were just words. It is unlikely that any of them internally admitted their lawlessness. If someone who is not a convict tries to reproach a prisoner for his crime, to scold him (although, however, it is not in the Russian spirit to reproach a criminal), there will be no end to the curses. And what masters they were all at swearing! They swore in a refined, artistic manner. They elevated swearing to a science; they tried to take it not so much with an offensive word, but with an offensive meaning, spirit, idea - and this is more subtle, more poisonous. Continuous quarrels further developed this science between them. All these people worked under pressure - consequently, they were idle, and consequently, they became corrupted: if they were not corrupted before, then they became corrupted in hard labor. All of them did not gather here of their own free will; they were all strangers to each other.

“The devil took three bast shoes before he gathered us into one heap!” - they said to themselves; and therefore gossip, intrigue, women's slander, envy, quarrel, anger were always in the foreground in this pitch-black life. No woman could be such a woman as some of these murderers. I repeat, among them there were people of strong character, accustomed to breaking and commanding their entire lives, seasoned, fearless. These people were somehow involuntarily respected; they, for their part, although they were often very jealous of their fame, generally tried not to be a burden to others, did not engage in empty curses, behaved with extraordinary dignity, were reasonable and almost always obedient to their superiors - not out of principle obedience, not from a state of duty, but as if under some kind of contract, realizing mutual benefits. However, they were treated with caution. I remember how one of these prisoners, a fearless and decisive man, known to his superiors for his brutal inclinations, was called to punishment for some crime. It was a summer day, time off from work. The staff officer, the closest and immediate commander of the prison, came himself to the guardhouse, which was right next to our gates, to be present at the punishment. This major was some kind of fatal creature for the prisoners; he brought them to the point where they trembled at him. He was insanely strict, “throwing himself at people,” as the convicts said. What they feared most about him was his penetrating, lynx-like gaze, from which nothing could be hidden. He somehow saw without looking. Entering the prison, he already knew what was happening at the other end of it. The prisoners called him eight-eyed. His system was false. He only embittered already embittered people with his frenzied, evil actions, and if there had not been a commandant over him, a noble and sensible man, who sometimes moderated his wild antics, then he would have caused great troubles with his management. I don’t understand how he could have ended safely; he retired alive and well, although, however, he was put on trial.

The prisoner turned pale when they called him. Usually he silently and resolutely lay down under the rods, silently endured the punishment and got up after the punishment as if disheveled, calmly and philosophically looking at the failure that had happened. However, they always dealt with him carefully. But this time he considered himself to be right for some reason. He turned pale and, quietly away from the escort, managed to put a sharp English shoe knife into his sleeve. Knives and all kinds of sharp instruments were terribly prohibited in prison. The searches were frequent, unexpected and serious, the punishments were cruel; but since it is difficult to find a thief when he decides to hide something in particular, and since knives and tools were an ever-present necessity in prison, despite searches, they were not transferred. And if they were selected, then new ones were immediately created. The whole prison gang rushed to the fence and looked through the cracks of their fingers with bated breath. Everyone knew that Petrov this time would not want to lie under the rod and that the end had come for the major. But at the most decisive moment, our major got into a droshky and drove off, entrusting the execution to another officer. “God himself saved!” the prisoners said later. As for Petrov, he calmly endured the punishment. His anger subsided with the major's departure. The prisoner is obedient and submissive to a certain extent; but there is an extreme that should not be crossed. By the way: nothing could be more curious than these strange outbursts of impatience and obstinacy. Often a person endures for several years, resigns himself, endures severe punishments and suddenly it breaks through on some small thing, on some trifle, for almost nothing. From another point of view, one might even call him crazy; Yes, that's what they do.

I have already said that for several years I have not seen among these people the slightest sign of repentance, not the slightest painful thought about their crime, and that most of them internally consider themselves completely right. This is a fact. Of course, vanity, bad examples, valor, false shame are largely the reason for this. On the other hand, who can say that they have traced the depths of these lost hearts and read in them the secrets of the whole world? But after all, it was possible, at so many years, to at least notice something, to catch, to catch in these hearts at least some feature that would indicate inner melancholy, about suffering. But this was not the case, positively not the case. Yes, crime, it seems, cannot be comprehended from given, ready-made points of view, and its philosophy is somewhat more difficult than it is believed. Of course, prisons and the system of forced labor do not correct the criminal; they only punish him and protect society from further attacks by the villain on his peace of mind. In the criminal, prison and the most intensive hard labor develop only hatred, thirst for forbidden pleasures and terrible frivolity. But I am firmly convinced that the famous cell system achieves only a false, deceptive, external goal. It sucks the life juice out of a person, enervates his soul, weakens it, frightens it, and then presents a morally withered mummy, a half-crazed man, as an example of correction and repentance. Of course, a criminal who rebels against society hates it and almost always considers himself right and him guilty. Moreover, he has already suffered punishment from him, and through this he almost considers himself cleansed, even. One can finally judge from such points of view that one almost has to acquit the criminal himself. But, despite all kinds of points of view, everyone will agree that there are crimes that always and everywhere, according to all kinds of laws, from the beginning of the world are considered indisputable crimes and will be considered such as long as a person remains a person. Only in prison did I hear stories about the most terrible, the most unnatural acts, the most monstrous murders, told with the most uncontrollable, most childishly cheerful laughter. One parricide in particular never escapes my memory. He was from the nobility, served and was something of a prodigal son to his sixty-year-old father. He was completely dissolute in behavior and got into debt. His father limited him and persuaded him; but the father had a house, there was a farm, money was suspected, and the son killed him, thirsting for an inheritance. The crime was discovered only a month later. The killer himself filed a statement with the police that his father had disappeared to an unknown location. He spent this entire month in the most depraved manner. Finally, in his absence, the police found the body. In the yard, along its entire length, there was a ditch for sewage drainage, covered with boards. The body lay in this ditch. It was dressed and put away, the gray head was cut off, put to the body, and the killer put a pillow under the head. He didn't confess; was deprived of nobility and rank and exiled to work for twenty years. The whole time I lived with him, he was in the most excellent, cheerful mood. He was an eccentric, frivolous, extremely unreasonable person, although not at all a fool. I never noticed any particular cruelty in him. The prisoners despised him not for the crime, of which there was no mention, but for his stupidity, for the fact that he did not know how to behave. In conversations, he sometimes remembered his father. Once, speaking to me about the healthy build that was hereditary in their family, he added: “My parent, until his very death, he did not complain about any illness.” Such brutal insensitivity is, of course, impossible. This is a phenomenon; here is some kind of lack of constitution, some kind of physical and moral deformity, not yet known to science, and not just a crime. Of course, I did not believe this crime. But people from his city, who should have known all the details of his story, told me his whole business. The facts were so clear that it was impossible not to believe.

The prisoners heard him shout one night in his sleep: “Hold him, hold him! Cut off his head, head, head!..”

The prisoners almost all spoke at night and were delirious. Curses, thieves' words, knives, axes most often came to their tongues in delirium. “We are a beaten people,” they said, “our insides are broken, that’s why we scream at night.”

State convict serf labor was not an occupation, but a duty: the prisoner worked out his lesson or served his legal hours of work and went to prison. They looked at the work with hatred. Without his special, personal occupation, to which he would be devoted with all his mind, with all his calculations, a man in prison could not live. And in what way did all this people, developed, lived greatly and wanted to live, forcibly brought here into one heap, forcibly torn away from society and from normal life, could you get along here normally and correctly, of your own will and desire? Just idleness here would have developed in him such criminal qualities that he had no idea about before. Without labor and without legal, normal property, a person cannot live, he becomes corrupted, and turns into a beast. And therefore, everyone in prison, due to natural need and some sense of self-preservation, had his own skill and occupation. The long summer day was almost entirely filled with official work; V short night there was barely time to sleep. But in winter, according to the situation, as soon as it got dark, the prisoner should already be locked up in prison. What to do during long, boring hours winter evening? And therefore, almost every barracks, despite the ban, turned into a huge workshop. Actually, work and occupation were not prohibited; but it was strictly forbidden to have tools with you in the prison, and without this work was impossible. But they worked quietly, and it seems that the authorities in other cases did not look at it very closely. Many of the prisoners came to the prison knowing nothing, but they learned from others and then were released into freedom as good craftsmen. There were shoemakers, shoemakers, tailors, carpenters, metalworkers, carvers, and gilders. There was one Jew, Isai Bumstein, a jeweler, who was also a moneylender. They all worked and earned a penny. Work orders were obtained from the city. Money is minted freedom, and therefore for a person completely deprived of freedom, it is ten times more valuable. If they only jingle in his pocket, he is already half consoled, even if he could not spend them. But money can always and everywhere be spent, especially since the forbidden fruit is twice as sweet. And in hard labor you could even have wine. Pipes were strictly prohibited, but everyone smoked them. Money and tobacco saved people from scurvy and other diseases. Work saved from crime: without work, prisoners would eat each other like spiders in a bottle. Despite the fact that both work and money were prohibited. Often sudden searches were made at night, everything forbidden was taken away, and - no matter how much money was hidden, the detectives still sometimes came across it. This is partly why they did not take care, but quickly got drunk; That’s why wine was also produced in the prison. After each search, the guilty person, in addition to losing his entire fortune, was usually severely punished. But, after each search, the shortcomings were immediately replenished, new things were immediately introduced, and everything went on as before. And the authorities knew about this, and the prisoners did not complain about the punishment, although such a life was similar to the life of those who settled on Mount Vesuvius.

Those who did not have skill made a living in a different way. There were quite original methods. Others lived, for example, only by buying and selling, and sometimes such things were sold that it would not even have occurred to anyone outside the walls of the prison not only to buy and sell them, but even to consider them as things. But penal servitude was very poor and extremely industrial. The last rag was valuable and was used for some purpose. Due to poverty, money in prison had a completely different price than in the wild. Large and complex work was paid in pennies. Some were successful in usury. The prisoner, exhausted and broke, carried the last of his belongings to the moneylender and received from him some copper money at terrible interest. If he did not buy these things back on time, they were immediately and mercilessly sold; usury flourished to such an extent that even government inspection items were accepted as collateral, such as government linen, shoe goods, etc. - things necessary for every prisoner at any time. But with such pledges, another turn of the matter also happened, not entirely unexpected, however: the one who pledged and received the money immediately, without further conversations, went to the senior non-commissioned officer, the nearest commander of the prison, reported about the pledge of the inspection items, and they were immediately taken away from him. the moneylender back, even without reporting to higher authorities. It is curious that sometimes there was not even a quarrel: the moneylender silently and sullenly returned what was due and even seemed to expect this to happen. Perhaps he could not help but admit to himself that if he were the pawnbroker, he would have done the same. And therefore, if he sometimes cursed later, it was without any malice, but only to clear his conscience.

In general, everyone stole from each other terribly. Almost everyone had their own chest with a lock for storing government items. This was allowed; but the chests were not saved. I think you can imagine what skilled thieves there were. One of my prisoners, a sincerely devoted person to me (I say this without any exaggeration), stole the Bible, the only book that was allowed to be had in penal servitude; He himself confessed this to me that same day, not out of repentance, but pitying me, because I had been looking for her for a long time. There were kissers who sold wine and quickly became rich. I will speak especially about this sale someday; she's pretty wonderful. There were many people who came to the prison for smuggling, and therefore there is nothing to be surprised at how, during such inspections and convoys, wine was brought into the prison. By the way: smuggling, by its nature, is some kind of special crime. Is it possible, for example, to imagine that money and profit play a secondary role for some smugglers, stand in the background? And yet this is exactly what happens. A smuggler works out of passion, out of calling. This is partly a poet. He risks everything, goes into terrible danger, cunning, inventing, getting out of his own way; sometimes he even acts out of some kind of inspiration. It's a passion as strong as playing cards. I knew one prisoner in the prison, colossal in appearance, but so meek, quiet, humble that it was impossible to imagine how he ended up in prison. He was so gentle and easy-going that during his entire stay in prison he did not quarrel with anyone. But he was from the western border, came for smuggling and, of course, could not resist and began to smuggle wine. How many times was he punished for this, and how afraid he was of the rods! And the very act of carrying wine brought him the most insignificant income. Only one entrepreneur got rich from wine. The eccentric loved art for art's sake. He was as whiny as a woman and how many times, after punishment, he swore and swore not to carry contraband. With courage, he sometimes overcame himself for a whole month, but finally still could not stand it... Thanks to these individuals, the wine did not become scarce in the prison.

Finally, there was another income, which, although it did not enrich the prisoners, was constant and beneficial. This is alms. Top class Our society has no idea how merchants, townsfolk and all our people care about the “unfortunate”. Alms are almost continuous and almost always with bread, bagels and rolls, much less often with money. Without these alms, in many places, it would be too difficult for prisoners, especially defendants, who are kept much more strictly than prisoners. Alms are religiously divided equally among the prisoners. If there is not enough for everyone, then the rolls are cut equally, sometimes even into six parts, and each prisoner certainly gets his own piece. I remember the first time I received a cash handout. It was soon after my arrival in prison. I was returning from morning work alone, with a guard. A mother and daughter walked towards me, a girl of about ten, as pretty as an angel. I've already seen them once. My mother was a soldier, a widow. Her husband, a young soldier, was on trial and died in the hospital, in the prisoner's ward, at a time when I was lying there sick. His wife and daughter came to him to say goodbye; both cried terribly. Seeing me, the girl blushed and whispered something to her mother; she immediately stopped, found a quarter of a penny in the bundle and gave it to the girl. She rushed to run after me... “Here, ‘wretched one,’ take Christ for a pretty penny!” - she shouted, running ahead of me and thrusting a coin into my hands. I took her penny, and the girl returned to her mother completely satisfied. I kept this little penny for myself for a long time.

History of creation

The story is documentary in nature and introduces the reader to the life of imprisoned criminals in Siberia on the second half of the 19th century century. The writer artistically comprehended everything he saw and experienced during the four years of hard labor (from to), having been exiled there in connection with the Petrashevites case. The work was created over the years, the first chapters were published in the magazine “Time”.

Plot

The story is told on behalf of the main character, Alexander Petrovich Goryanchikov, a nobleman who found himself in hard labor for a period of 10 years for the murder of his wife. Having killed his wife out of jealousy, Alexander Petrovich himself confessed to the murder, and after serving hard labor, he cut off all ties with relatives and remained in a settlement in the Siberian city of K., leading a secluded life and earning a living by tutoring. One of his few entertainments remains reading and literary sketches about hard labor. Actually, the “living house of the dead”, which gave the name of the story, the author calls the prison, where the convicts are serving their sentences, and his notes - “Scenes from dead house».

Characters

• Goryanchikov Alexander Petrovich - main character the story from whose perspective the story is told.
• Akim Akimych is one of the four former nobles, a comrade of Goryanchikov, a senior prisoner in the barracks. Sentenced to 12 years for shooting a Caucasian prince who set his fortress on fire. An extremely pedantic and stupidly well-behaved person.
• Gazin is a kissing convict, a wine merchant, a Tatar, the most powerful convict in the prison.
• Sirotkin is a 23-year-old former recruit who was sent to hard labor for the murder of his commander.
• Dutov - former soldier, who rushed at the guard officer to delay the punishment (running him through the ranks) and received an even longer sentence.
• Orlov is a strong-willed killer, completely fearless in the face of punishment and testing.
• Nurra is a highlander, Lezgin, cheerful, intolerant of theft, drunkenness, pious, a favorite of the convicts.
• Alei is a Dagestani, 22 years old, who was sent to hard labor with his older brothers for attacking an Armenian merchant. A neighbor on the bunk of Goryanchikov, who became close friends with him and taught Aley to read and write in Russian.
• Isai Fomich is a Jew who was sent to hard labor for murder. Moneylender and jeweler. He was on friendly terms with Goryanchikov.
• Osip, a smuggler who elevated smuggling to the level of an art, carried wine into the prison. He was terribly afraid of punishment and many times swore off smuggling, but he still broke down. Most of the time he worked as a cook, preparing separate (not official) food (including for Goryanchikov) for the prisoners’ money.
• Sushilov is a prisoner who changed his name at the stage with another prisoner: for a silver ruble and a red shirt, he exchanged his settlement for eternal hard labor. Served Goryanchikov.
• A-v - one of the four nobles. He received 10 years of hard labor for false denunciation, from which he wanted to make money. Hard labor did not lead him to repentance, but corrupted him, turning him into an informer and a scoundrel. The author uses this character to depict the complete moral decline of man. One of the escape participants.
• Nastasya Ivanovna is a widow who selflessly takes care of the convicts.
• Petrov is a former soldier who ended up in hard labor after stabbing a colonel during training because he unfairly hit him. He is characterized as the most determined convict. He sympathized with Goryanchikov, but treated him as a dependent person, a wonder of the prison.
• Baklushin - ended up in hard labor for the murder of a German who had betrothed his bride. Organizer of a theater in a prison.
• Luchka is a Ukrainian, he was sent to hard labor for the murder of six people, and in conclusion he killed the head of the prison.
• Ustyantsev, a former soldier, in order to avoid punishment, drank wine infused with tea to induce consumption, from which he later died.
• Mikhailov is a convict who died in a military hospital from consumption.
• Zherebyatnikov is a lieutenant, an executor with sadistic tendencies.
• Smekalov - lieutenant, executor, who was popular among convicts.
• Shishkov is a prisoner who was sent to hard labor for the murder of his wife (the story “Akulkin’s Husband”).
• Kulikov - gypsy, horse thief, guarded veterinarian. One of the escape participants.
• Elkin is a Siberian who was imprisoned for counterfeiting. A cautious veterinarian who quickly took away his practice from Kulikov.
• The story features an unnamed fourth nobleman, a frivolous, eccentric, unreasonable and non-cruel man, falsely accused of murdering his father, acquitted and released from hard labor only ten years later. Dmitry's prototype from the novel The Brothers Karamazov.

Part one

• I. House of the Dead
• II. First impressions
• III. First impressions
• IV. First impressions
• V. First month
• VI. First month
• VII. New acquaintances. Petrov
• VIII. Determined people. Luchka
• IX. Isai Fomich. Bathhouse. Baklushin's story
• X. Feast of the Nativity of Christ
• XI. Performance

Part two

• I. Hospital
• II. Continuation
• III. Continuation
• IV. Akulkin's husband Story
• V. Summer couple
• VI. Convict animals
• VII. Claim
• VIII. Comrades
• IX. Escape
• X. Exit from hard labor

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See what “Notes from the Dead House” is in other dictionaries:

- “NOTES FROM THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD”, Russia, REN TV, 1997, color, 36 min. Documentary. The film is a confession about the inhabitants of Ognenny Island, near Vologda. One hundred and fifty “death row” murderers have been pardoned, for whom capital punishment is by Presidential Decree... ... Encyclopedia of Cinema

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Writer, born October 30, 1821 in Moscow, died January 29, 1881, in St. Petersburg. His father, Mikhail Andreevich, married to a merchant’s daughter, Marya Fedorovna Nechaeva, occupied the position of doctor’s headquarters at the Mariinsky Hospital for the Poor. Busy at the hospital and... ... Large biographical encyclopedia

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In the remote regions of Siberia, among the steppes, mountains or impenetrable forests, you occasionally come across small towns, with one, many with two thousand inhabitants, wooden, nondescript, with two churches - one in the city, the other in the cemetery - towns that look more like good village near Moscow than the city. They are usually quite sufficiently equipped with police officers, assessors and all other subaltern ranks. In general, in Siberia, despite the cold, it is extremely warm. People live simple, illiberal lives; the order is old, strong, sanctified for centuries. The officials, who rightly play the role of the Siberian nobility, are either natives, inveterate Siberians, or visitors from Russia, mostly from the capitals, seduced by the non-credited salaries, double passes and tempting hopes for the future. Among them, those who know how to solve the riddle of life almost always remain in Siberia and take root in it with pleasure. They subsequently bear rich and sweet fruits. But others, frivolous people who do not know how to solve the riddle of life, will soon become bored with Siberia and ask themselves with longing: why did they come to it? They eagerly serve out their legal term of service, three years, and at the end of it they immediately bother about their transfer and return home, scolding Siberia and laughing at it. They are wrong: not only from an official point of view, but even from many points of view, one can be blissful in Siberia. The climate is excellent; there are many remarkably rich and hospitable merchants; there are many extremely wealthy foreigners. The young ladies bloom with roses and are moral to the last extreme. The game flies through the streets and stumbles upon the hunter. An unnatural amount of champagne is drunk. The caviar is amazing. The harvest happens in other places as early as fifteen... In general, the land is blessed. You just need to know how to use it. In Siberia they know how to use it.

In one of these cheerful and self-satisfied towns, with the sweetest people, the memory of which will remain indelible in my heart, I met Alexander Petrovich Goryanchikov, a settler who was born in Russia as a nobleman and landowner, then became a second-class exile and convict for the murder of his wife. and, after the expiration of the ten-year term of hard labor prescribed for him by law, he humbly and quietly lived out his life in the town of K. as a settler. He, in fact, was assigned to one suburban volost, but lived in the city, having the opportunity to earn at least some food in it by teaching children. In Siberian cities one often encounters teachers from exiled settlers; they are not disdained. They teach mainly French, so necessary in the field of life and about which without them in the remote regions of Siberia they would have no idea. The first time I met Alexander Petrovich in the house of an old, honored and hospitable official, Ivan Ivanovich Gvozdikov, who had five daughters, different years who showed great promise. Alexander Petrovich gave them lessons four times a week, thirty silver kopecks per lesson. His appearance interested me. He was an extremely pale and thin man, not yet old, about thirty-five, small and frail. He was always dressed very cleanly, in a European style. If you spoke to him, he looked at you extremely intently and attentively, listening to every word of yours with strict politeness, as if he were pondering it, as if you asked him a task with your question or wanted to extract some secret from him, and, finally, he answered clearly and briefly, but weighing every word of his answer so much that you suddenly felt awkward for some reason and you yourself finally rejoiced at the end of the conversation. I then asked Ivan Ivanovich about him and found out that Goryanchikov lived impeccably and morally and that otherwise Ivan Ivanovich would not have invited him for his daughters; but that he is a terrible unsociable person, hides from everyone, is extremely learned, reads a lot, but speaks very little, and that in general it is quite difficult to get into conversation with him. Others argued that he was positively crazy, although they found that, in essence, this was not such an important flaw, that many of the honorary members of the city were ready to favor Alexander Petrovich in every possible way, that he could even be useful, write requests, etc. They believed that he must have decent relatives in Russia, maybe not even the last people, but they knew that from the very exile he stubbornly cut off all relations with them - in a word, he was harming himself. In addition, we all knew his story, we knew that he killed his wife in the first year of his marriage, killed out of jealousy and denounced himself (which greatly facilitated his punishment). Such crimes are always looked upon as misfortunes and regretted. But, despite all this, the eccentric stubbornly avoided everyone and appeared in people only to give lessons.

At first I didn’t pay much attention to him, but, I don’t know why, little by little he began to interest me. There was something mysterious about him. There was not the slightest opportunity to talk to him. Of course, he always answered my questions, and even with such an air as if he considered this his primary duty; but after his answers I somehow felt burdened to question him longer; and on his face, after such conversations, some kind of suffering and fatigue was always visible. I remember walking with him one fine summer evening from Ivan Ivanovich. Suddenly I took it into my head to invite him to my place for a minute to smoke a cigarette. I cannot describe the horror that was expressed on his face; he was completely lost, began to mutter some incoherent words and suddenly, looking angrily at me, he started running in the opposite direction. I was even surprised. Since then, whenever he met me, he looked at me as if with some kind of fear. But I didn’t calm down; I was drawn to him by something, and a month later, out of the blue, I went to see Goryanchikov. Of course, I acted stupidly and indelicately. He lived on the very edge of the city, with an old bourgeois woman who had a daughter who was sick with consumption, and that daughter had an illegitimate daughter, a child of about ten years old, a pretty and cheerful girl. Alexander Petrovich was sitting with her and teaching her to read the minute I came into his room. When he saw me, he became so confused, as if I had caught him committing some crime. He was completely confused, jumped up from his chair and looked at me with all his eyes. We finally sat down; he closely watched my every glance, as if he suspected some special mysterious meaning in each of them. I guessed that he was suspicious to the point of madness. He looked at me with hatred, almost asking: “Are you going to leave here soon?” I talked to him about our town, about current news; he remained silent and smiled evilly; It turned out that he not only did not know the most ordinary, well-known city news, but was not even interested in knowing them. Then I started talking about our region, about its needs; he listened to me in silence and looked into my eyes so strangely that I finally felt ashamed of our conversation. However, I almost teased him with new books and magazines; I had them in my hands, fresh from the post office, and I offered them to him, still uncut. He cast a greedy glance at them, but immediately changed his mind and declined the offer, citing lack of time. Finally, I said goodbye to him and, leaving him, I felt that some unbearable weight had been lifted from my heart. I was ashamed and it seemed extremely stupid to pester a person whose main goal is to hide as far away from the whole world as possible. But the job was done. I remember that I noticed almost no books on him, and, therefore, it was unfair to say about him that he reads a lot. However, driving past his windows twice, very late at night, I noticed a light in them. What did he do while he sat until dawn? Didn't he write? And if so, what exactly?

Circumstances removed me from our town for three months. Returning home in the winter, I learned that Alexander Petrovich died in the fall, died in solitude and never even called a doctor to him. The town has almost forgotten about him. His apartment was empty. I immediately met the owner of the deceased, intending to find out from her; What exactly was her tenant doing and did he write anything? For two kopecks she brought me a whole basket of papers left behind by the deceased. The old woman admitted that she had already used up two notebooks. She was a gloomy and silent woman, from whom it was difficult to get anything worthwhile. She couldn’t tell me anything special new about her tenant. According to her, he almost never did anything and for months at a time did not open a book or pick up a pen; but all night long he walked back and forth across the room and kept thinking about something, and sometimes talking to himself; that he loved and caressed her granddaughter, Katya, very much, especially since he found out that her name was Katya, and that on Katerina’s day every time he went to serve a memorial service for someone. He could not tolerate guests; he only came out of the yard to teach the children; he even glanced sideways at her, the old woman, when she came, once a week, to tidy up his room at least a little, and almost never said a single word to her for three whole years. I asked Katya: does she remember her teacher? She looked at me silently, turned to the wall and began to cry. Therefore, this man could at least force someone to love him.

Alexander Goryanchikov was sentenced to 10 years of hard labor for the murder of his wife. The “Dead House,” as he called the prison, housed about 250 prisoners. There was a special order here. Some tried to make money with their craft, but the authorities took away all the tools after searches. Many begged for alms. With the money one could buy tobacco or wine to somehow brighten up one's existence.

The hero often thought that someone was exiled for a cold-blooded and brutal murder, and the same sentence was given to a person who killed a person while trying to protect his daughter.

In the very first month, Alexander had the opportunity to see absolutely different people. There were smugglers, robbers, informers, and Old Believers here. Many bragged about the crimes they had committed, wanting the glory of fearless criminals. Goryanchikov immediately decided that he would not go against his conscience, like many, trying to make his life easier. Alexander was 1 of 4 nobles who ended up here. Despite his self-contempt, he didn't want to grovel or complain, and wanted to prove that he was capable of working.

He found a dog behind the barracks and often came to feed his new friend Sharik. Soon he began meeting other prisoners, although he tried to avoid particularly cruel murderers.

Before Christmas, the prisoners were taken to the bathhouse, which everyone was very happy about. On the holiday, the townspeople brought gifts to the prisoners, and the priest blessed all the cells.

Having fallen ill and being hospitalized, Goryanchikov saw with his own eyes what corporal punishment practiced in prison led to.

In the summer, prisoners rioted over prison food. After this, the food became a little better, but not for long.

Several years have passed. The hero had already come to terms with many things and was firmly convinced not to make any more past mistakes. Every day he became more humble and patient. On the last day, Goryanchikov was taken to a blacksmith, who removed the hated shackles from him. Freedom and a happy life lay ahead.

Picture or drawing of Notes from the House of the Dead

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Part one
Introduction
Alexander Petrovich Goryanchikov, a nobleman, was born in Russia, for the murder of his wife he became a second-class exile. After 10 years of hard labor, he lived in the town of K. He was a thin and poor man of about thirty-five, small and frail, wild and suspicious.
Alexander Petrovich died three months later. His owner gave me his papers. Among these papers was a notebook in which Goryanchikov’s convict life was described. These notes were scenes from the House of the Dead, as Alexander Petrovich called them.
I. House of the Dead
There was a fort near the ramparts. In general, with its laws and clothing, customs and morals, it was a special world. There were 250 people permanently in prison. There were a lot of people here different nationalities. Most of the prisoners were civil convicts, criminals, convicted and deprived of all rights. They were sent for periods of 8 to 12 years, and then sent to settle throughout Siberia. There were also military criminals, but they were sent for short periods of time and then returned back. Many of the prisoners returned to prison for repeated crimes. This category was called always. There was also a special department; criminals from all over Russia were sent here. Usually they did not know their deadline and always worked harder than anyone else.
I entered this strange house in December. The prisoners did not like to talk about their past lives. All ranks were distinguished by multi-colored clothing and differently shaved heads. Many of them were envious, gloomy, vain, touchy and boastful people.
In the interior of this world there were intrigues and gossip, but no one dared to rebel against the internal laws of the prison. Swearing was raised into a science that developed through constant quarrels.
Everyone hated convict work. Many had their own business, without which they could not survive. The prisoners were not allowed to have tools, but the authorities turned a blind eye to this. There were all kinds of crafts here. Orders for such work were sought from the city.
Tobacco and money saved from scurvy, and work saved from crime. But here it was forbidden to do work. Searches were carried out at night, and everything prohibited was taken away.
There was another constant income, this was alms, which was always divided equally.
II. First impressions
There was little government work in winter. Everyone returned to the prison, some plying their trade, others gossiping, drinking and playing cards.
At first, everyone looked at me askance, since a former nobleman would never be recognized as one of their own. They disliked the Polish gentry even more. There were four noblemen: one was an informer and spy, the second was a parricide, the third was Akim Akimych. He was a tall, thin, honest, naive and neat man.
He served as an officer in the Caucasus. One neighboring prince attacked his fortress at night, and Akim Akimych shot him in front of his detachment. And they sentenced him to death penalty, but then the sentence was commuted and he was exiled to Siberia for 12 years. Akim Akimych was respected by the prisoners. I asked Akim Akimych about our major. He turned out to be an evil and dishonest person. The prisoners were his enemies. They hated him, feared him and wanted to kill him.
Several Kalashnikovs often came to the workshop. To meet with them, it was necessary to choose a place, time, and bribe the guards. But sometimes I managed to see love scenes.
During lunch, I asked why everyone was looking at me askance. And the Pole told me that because I am a nobleman, many would like to humiliate me.
III. First impressions
For the prisoners, money was like freedom, but it was difficult to keep. Either they were stolen or the major took them away. Then they began to give the money to the old Old Believer.
He was a small and gray-haired old man aged sixty, quite calm and quiet. An old man who served time for setting a church on fire. He was a wealthy tradesman; he had a family at home. Everyone respected him and were sure that he would not be able to steal.
It was very sad in the prison. And many worked for a whole month in order to spend everything in one day. The wine trade was very profitable.
In the very first days of my imprisonment, I became interested in one young prisoner, Sirotkin. He was about 23 years old. He was a very dangerous war criminal. He was sent to prison because he killed his company commander, who was always dissatisfied with him. Sirotkin was friends with Gazin.
Gazin was a Tatar, very strong, tall and powerful. He is also a military prisoner and has been exiled to Siberia more than once and ended up in a special department. He was quite a cunning and not stupid person. When he got drunk, he was angry and even attacked people with a knife. For this he was beaten until he lost consciousness. But in the morning he went to work as healthy as he could.
Gazin fell into the kitchen and began pestering my friend and me. But we decided not to answer, then he furiously grabbed the heavy tray and swung it. Everyone silently watched what would happen next. But someone shouted that his wine had been stolen and he ran out of the kitchen like a bullet.
One thought occupied me, that the punishment for the same crimes is always unequal... For example, one stabbed a person just like that, and the other killed, defending the honor of his daughter, fiancee, sister.
IV. First impressions
After verification in the barracks, the authorities who remained in charge were the one observing order, the disabled person, and the eldest of the prisoners. In our barracks, Akim Akimych was appointed senior. The convict authorities were always wary of the prisoners, which gave them courage. For prisoners, the best boss is the one who is not afraid of them.
In the evening everyone looked at home. Many sat down to play cards around the table; it was called Maidan. There was a servant at the Maidan; he stood guard all night and warned of the appearance of guards or the parade major.
The bunk by the door was my place. Akim Akimych was located next to me. On the left are several Caucasian highlanders who were convicted of robbery. The brothers were Dagestan Tatars. The youngest, Aley, was about 22 years old. For the robbery and murder of an Armenian merchant they were sent to hard labor. The brothers loved Aley. His character combined both gentleness and strength. He was fair, smart and modest, always avoided quarrels, but also knew how to stand up for himself. I taught him to speak Russian, and he also mastered several crafts. I taught him to write and read, for which his brothers thanked me very much.
The Poles in hard labor were a separate family. Many of them were educated. They loved only the Jew Isaiah Fomich, he was about 50 years old, he was small and weak person. He ended up in hard labor because of murder. It was quite easy for him to live, since he was a jeweler, he had a lot of work from the city
In our barracks there were also several Little Russians and four Old Believers, a young convict of about 23 years old who killed eight people; a few counterfeiters and a few more dark characters. I saw all this on the first day of my hard labor.
V. First month.
I went back to work three days later. Akim Akimych treated me well. Next to me there was one more person whom I got to know well only a few years later. This is prisoner Sushilov, he served me. I also had one servant, Osip, he was one of the four cooks chosen by the prisoners. The cooks did not go to work, but they could refuse this position at any time. He was an honest and meek man. He got here for smuggling. He traded wine with other chefs.
Osip prepared the food for me. Sushilov himself began running various errands for me, washing and sewing up my clothes. He was a pathetic, unrequited and downtrodden man. It was with great difficulty that he talked to anyone.
They laughed at him because on the way to Siberia he changed, that is, he exchanged fate and name with someone. This is what prisoners who have served a long term of hard labor do. They deceive such klutzes as Sushilov.
I watched the hard labor with great attention. I was amazed by my meeting with prisoner A-v. He was a nobleman and informed the parade major about everything that was going on in the prison. He was exiled to Siberia for 10 years for vile denunciation. Hard labor untied his hands. He was ready to do anything to satisfy his brutal instincts.
VI. Month one.
In Tobolsk they gave me the Gospels, where several rubles were hidden. There are people who selflessly help exiles. A widow, Nastasya Ivanovna, lived in the city. Because of poverty, she could not do much for us, but we felt that she was our friend.
I decided in prison that I would do everything according to my conscience. I was sent to dismantle old barges, they didn’t pay money for them, they forced us to dismantle them, just so that we wouldn’t sit idle.
The conductor came and told us a task that needed to be done and then rest. We completed this task very quickly.
I got in the way everywhere, they drove me away, but when I walked away they shouted that I wasn’t working at all. They enjoyed mocking the nobleman.
They thought that I would behave like a white-handed nobleman. I decided for myself that I would not show them my education, my thoughts, or suck up to them, but I didn’t want to grovel in front of them either.
In the evening I walked alone behind the barracks and saw Sharik, our dog. I fed her bread. I fell in love with him, now after work I went behind the barracks to see Sharik.
VII. New acquaintances. Petrov
I have already begun to get used to this special world. I loved to work, the prisoners laughed at me for this love, but I knew that work would help me.
The bosses made the work easier for the nobles, since we were considered incompetent and weak. Usually we were sent to grind and burn alabaster, and turn the grinding wheel in the workshop. For several years this work remained with the nobles.
I began to get acquainted with other prisoners. The convict Petrov was the first to visit me. He lived from me in the most distant barracks. He was 40 years old. He spoke to me freely, behaved delicately and decently. We kept our distance from him and did not get closer.
He was the most fearless and decisive of all the convicts. He rarely quarreled, but he had no friends. He wandered around the prison without anything to do.
VIII. A determined person. Luchka
There were few determined prisoners in the prison. At first I avoided the worst killers, but then I changed my attitude towards them. Convicts loved to boast about their exploits. I heard a story about how convict Luka Kuzmich killed a major for his own pleasure. He was a Ukrainian, a small and thin man. He was very boastful, proud, and was not respected in prison. His nickname was Luchka.
Luchka told his story to his stupid but kind bunk neighbor, the convict Kobylin. Luchka spoke very loudly so that everyone could hear. This happened during shipment. Next to him sat 12 crests. The food was disgusting and the major commanded them. Luchka provoked the crests, and they called the major, and Luchka took a knife from a neighbor. A drunken major comes running, and Luchka came closer and stuck a knife in his stomach.
Many officers treated the convicts like pigs, and this greatly irritated the prisoners. Good officers treated the prisoners with respect and loved them for it. Luchka was given 105 lashes for the murder of an officer. Luchka wanted to be scary person so that they would be afraid of him, but not pay attention to him.
IX. Isai Fomich. Bathhouse. Baklushin's story
There were four days left before Christmas and we were taken to the bathhouse. Isai Fomich Bumshtein was very happy about this. There was a feeling that he liked hard labor. He lived richly and did jewelry work. The Jews protected him. He was waiting for the end of his term so that he could get married. He was a naive, cunning, daring, simple-minded, timid, boastful person. Isai Fomich served everyone for fun.
All the prisoners were glad that they had the opportunity to leave the prison. The bathhouse was cramped, and it was difficult to undress because of the shackles. Baklushin and Petrov helped me wash up. For this, I treated Petrov to a chekushka, and invited Baklushin to my place for tea.
Everyone loved Baklushin. This was a guy, about 30 years old, he was full of life and fire. Having met me, Baklushin was a soldier’s son, he served in the pioneers and was loved by some high-ranking officials. He told me what was coming soon theatrical performance which convicts organize in the prison on holidays. Baklushin was the main instigator of the theater.
He also served in a garrison battalion as a non-commissioned officer. There he fell in love with a German woman, the laundress Louise, whom he wanted to marry. Also, a distant relative, the German Schultz, wanted to marry her. Louise agreed to this marriage. Schultz forbade Louise to meet with Baklushinny. And then one Sunday Baklushin shot Schultz in a store. After that, he was happy with Louise for two weeks, and then he was arrested.
X. Feast of the Nativity of Christ
The long-awaited holiday has arrived. On such days, convicts were not sent to work; there were only three such days a year.
Akim Akimych had no family memories, since he went into hard service at the age of fifteen. He was a religious man and looked forward to this holiday. He always lived by established rules and did not like to live by his wits, since once he lived by his wits and ended up in hard labor.
In the morning, the guard non-commissioned officer congratulated all the prisoners on the holiday. Alms were brought to the prison from all over the city.
In the military barracks, the priest held a Christmas service and consecrated all the barracks. Then the commandant and the parade major arrived, they also congratulated everyone on the holiday. People were walking, but there were also many sober people. Gazin was sober. He only wanted to go out at the end of the day. Evening came. The drunk people had longing and sadness in their eyes.
XI. Performance
The theater performance took place on the third day of the holiday. Officers and some other visitors came to the theatrical performance, and a Poster was even written for them.
The first performance was called “Filatka and Miroshka are rivals,” where Baklushin played Filatka, and Sirotkin played Filatkin’s bride. The second performance was called “Kedril the Glutton.” At the conclusion of the theatrical performance, a pantomime was performed to music.
The theater took place in a military barracks. Everyone was waiting for the performance to start. The convicts were delighted; they were allowed to have fun and forget about for many years conclusions.
Part two
I. Hospital
I got sick after the holidays and was sent to our hospital. The administration of medications was carried out by a resident who was the manager of the prison wards. They changed me into hospital underwear and I went to a room for 22 people.
There were few seriously ill people. To my right lay the illegitimate son of a retired captain, a former clerk, a counterfeiter. He was a young man of 28 years old, intelligent and impudent and confident in his innocence. He told me about the order in the hospital.
Then a sick man from the correctional company approached me. It was Chekunov, he was a soldier. He began to serve me, which is why Ustyantsev laughed at him; he suffered from tuberculosis. I felt that for some reason he was angry with me.
All the sick prisoners lay here, even those with venereal diseases. There were also several people who came to rest. The doctors let me in out of compassion. The punished rods were looked after very seriously.
In the evening after visiting the doctor, a bucket was placed in the room and locked. Even here we walked around with shackles, and this further increases their suffering.
II. Continuation
In the morning the doctor came again, but our resident came before him, and if he saw that the prisoner had come here to rest, he wrote down his illness. Which doesn't exist. For this he was highly respected.
There were even patients who asked to be discharged with a back that had not yet healed. Many convicts spoke with kindness about who beat them and how.
But they talked about Lieutenant Zherebyatnikov with indignation. he was a man of 30 years old. He loved to punish with canes and whippings.
But the commander at the prison, Lieutenant Smekalov, was remembered with pleasure and joy. He was a very kind person and was considered one of their own.
III. Continuation
In the hospital I saw the consequences of all types of punishment. I asked everyone, because I wanted to know all the stages of the verdicts. I imagined psychological state people going to execution.
If the prisoner could not withstand the prescribed number of blows, then this number was divided several times. But the convicts endured the execution courageously. I realized that punishment with rods is the most severe. Five hundred sticks can be carried without danger to life, but five hundred rods can kill you.
Every person has the qualities of an executioner, but they develop unevenly.
It was boring being in the hospital. When I came new person, everyone perked up. The arrival of a new person always created excitement. Many pretended to be crazy in order to get rid of punishment.
The seriously ill loved to be treated. It got worse in the evening when the past was remembered. I heard one story at night.
IV. Akulkin's husband.
One night I woke up and heard two prisoners whispering to each other not far from me. The story was narrated by Shishkov. He was 30 years old, a civil prisoner, an eccentric and cowardly man.
The conversation was about the father of Shishkov's wife, Ankudim Trofimych. He was a rich and respected old man of about 70 years old, had a trade and a large farm, and had three employees. Ankudim Trofimych was married twice, he had two sons and eldest daughter Akulina. She had a lover, Filka Morozov, a friend of Shishkov. Filka was left an orphan and wanted to skip all the money he received as an inheritance and become a soldier. But he didn’t want to marry Akulina. One day Filka persuaded Shishkov to smear tar on Akulka’s gate, because he did not want her to marry the old rich man. The rich man heard that there were rumors about Akulka, and did not marry her. Shishkov's mother advised him to marry Akulka, since no one was marrying her now, and she had a good dowry.
Shishkov drank until the wedding. Filka Morozov threatened that he would break all his ribs and that he would sleep with his wife every night. At the wedding, Ankudim roared, because he knew that his daughter would suffer when she was married. Shishkov had prepared a whip in advance to get Akulinka away, since she had gotten married with deception.
After the wedding, Shishkov and Akulka were left in a closet. The shark turned out to be innocent, and then he knelt down and asked for forgiveness, and vowed to take revenge on Filka Morozov for the shame.
Then Filka offered to sell his wife to Shishkov. And in order for Shishkov to succumb to this persuasion, he started a rumor that Shishkov did not sleep with his wife, since he was always drunk, and she was walking away from him. Shishkov was furious and began beating his wife every day. Ankudim came to intercede for his daughter, but then retreated. Shishkov did not allow his mother to interfere either.
Filka got completely drunk and went to work as a mercenary for a tradesman. Filka lived with a tradesman for his own pleasure, slept with his daughters, drank, and even pulled the owner by the beard. The tradesman endured all this, since Filka had to become a soldier for his eldest son. When they took Filka to surrender as a soldier, on the way he saw Akulka, and stopping, began to ask her forgiveness for his meanness. She forgave him, and then told Shishkov that she loved Filka more than death.
And then Shishkov decided to kill Akulka. He took his wife into the forest and cut her throat there. And in the evening they found Akulka dead and Shishkov in the bathhouse. He's already been serving four years in hard labor.
V. Summer.
Easter was coming soon. Summer work has begun. The coming spring gave birth to melancholy and desires in every prisoner.
At this time, one prisoner wants to escape, and the rest are only dreaming about it. Since many, having served two or three years in prison, preferred to serve out their sentence to the end and go out to the settlement, rather than decide to die in case of failure.
Every day I became more restless and sad. It also poisoned my life that many people hated me because I was a nobleman. The party was the same as at Christmas, only you could still walk like before.
Summer work were always heavier than winter ones. Convicts dug, built, laid bricks, and did carpentry, plumbing, or painting work. I only became stronger from work, because I still wanted to live after hard labor.
In the evenings, prisoners walked around the yard in crowds. We also learned that an important general was traveling from St. Petersburg on an inspection tour of Siberia. Also at this time, one incident happens in the prison. During the fight, one prisoner poked another in the chest with an awl.
The convict who committed the crime was named Lomov, he was from wealthy peasants, and the victim was Gavrilka, he was a tramp. The Lomovs always lived as a family, and, in addition to legal affairs, they were also involved in concealing tramps and stolen goods. They decided that they had no control and began to participate in various lawless activities. Not far from the village they had their own large farm, where six Kirghiz robbers lived. They were all slaughtered at night, and the Lomovs were accused of killing their workers. Their fortune was taken away, and their uncle and nephew were convicted and sent to hard labor.
And then they brought Gavrilka, a rogue and tramp, to the prison, who took the blame for the death of the Kirghiz. The Lomovs tried not to quarrel with Gavrilka. Uncle Lomov, because of the girl, stabbed Gavrilka with an awl. The Lomovs in prison were rich. The offender's sentence was extended.
An auditor arrived at the prison. He silently walked around all the barracks and visited the kitchen. They told him that I was a nobleman. He looked at me and left. All the prisoners are puzzled.
VI. Animals are convicts
Buying a horse for prisoners was entertainment. The prison had to have a horse for household needs. One day she died. And the purchase of the horse was entrusted to the convicts. The purchased horse became the favorite of the entire prison.
The prisoners loved animals very much, but they were not allowed to breed too many of them. In addition to Sharik, there were two other dogs in the prison: Kultyapka and Belka.
There were geese by accident. The geese went to work with the convicts. But then they were all cut off. There was also a goat named Vaska. He was also a favorite. But one day the major saw him and ordered him to be stabbed to death.
There was also an eagle. He was brought to the prison exhausted and wounded. He lived with us for three months, never leaving his corner. In order for the eagle to die in freedom, the convicts threw it into the steppe from a rampart.
VII. Claim
A year later I resigned myself to life in prison. The prisoners loved to dream, but they did not like to tell him about their hopes.
All prisoners were divided into evil and kind, bright and gloomy. There were more of the latter. There were also desperate people, but there were very few of them. More than one prisoner could not live without a goal, but everyone’s goal was freedom.
One summer day there was an uprising over food... Prisoners very rarely rise up all together. There were several instigators. One of them was Martynov, a former hussar, he was a very hot-tempered, restless and suspicious person; and the other was Vasily Antonov, he was very smart and cold-blooded, both of them were honest and truthful.
Our non-commissioned officer was scared. Everyone lined up and I also went out, thinking it was a check. Then Kulikov put me out of action. I went to the kitchen.
There I met the nobleman T-vsky. He told me that if we were there, we would be accused of rebellion and brought to justice. Isai Fomich and Akim Akimych also did not take part in this excitement.
The major came angry, and behind him was the clerk Dyatlov, who ran the prison and had great influence on the major. He wasn't a bad person. Three of the prisoners went to the guard. Dyatlov came to our kitchen. Here they said that they have no complaints. He reported this to the major, who told him to register everyone, but separately from the dissatisfied ones. he threatened that he would bring all those dissatisfied to justice and everyone immediately turned out to be happy with everything.
The food got better, but it didn't last long. The prisoners could not calm down for a long time.
I asked Petrov whether the convicts were angry with the nobles because they did not come out with everyone else. He didn't understand what I.wanted. I realized that I would never be their comrade.
VIII. Comrades
Of the three nobles, I only communicated with Akim Akimych. He was kind person, and always helped me with advice and some services.
There were also eight Poles. Only three were educated: M-ky, B-sky, and old Zh-ky.
Many of them had to serve 10-12 years in hard labor.
The highest authorities treated the criminal nobles differently than the rest of the exiles. I was in the second category of hard labor, it was harder than the other two categories. Nobles were not punished as often as other convicts.
We only had relief in our work once; for three months we went to the technical office with clerks.
We were copying papers, but suddenly we were transferred back. Then for about two years B. and I went to work in the workshop.
M-ky became gloomier and sadder every year. He perked up, remembering his mother. She begged forgiveness for him. He stayed in a settlement in our city.
Two young men stayed with us for a short time, but were simple and honest. The third, A-chukovsky, was a simple person, but the fourth, B-m, did not make a good impression on us. He was a painter and was often called to work in the city.
B-m painted the house for the parade major, who after that began to be respected by the nobles. Soon the parade major was put on trial and he resigned. After retiring, he became poor.
IX. Escape
After the change of parade major, the penal servitude was liquidated and a military prison company was created instead. There was also a special department; dangerous war criminals were sent here.
Everything was the same, only the management had changed. The most important thing was that there was no old major. Now only the guilty were punished. The non-commissioned officers were decent people.
Many years have been erased from my memory. I still had the desire to live and this gave me hope and strength. I judged myself for my past life. I promised myself that in the future I would not make the same mistakes.
Sometimes there were escapes. Two people ran away while I was there. After the major's resignation, his spy A-v was left without protection. He and Kulikov agreed to escape.
It was impossible to escape without an escort. Kulikov chose the Pole Koller. Having agreed, they set a day.
This happened in June. The fugitives made sure that they, along with the convict Shilkin, were sent to empty barracks to plaster the walls. Koller and another recruit were guards. An hour later, A-v and Kulikov, telling Shilkin that they had gone to get wine, ran away. Then Shilkin realized that his comrades had escaped and told everything to the sergeant major.
The Cossacks were sent in pursuit of them. Their orientations were also sent to all counties. Now the prisoners were sent to work under heavy escort, and were counted several times in the evenings.
They looked for them for a week. Eight days later their trail was picked up. The fugitives were brought to prison and then put on trial. Everyone was waiting to see what the court would rule.
A-vu was awarded five hundred sticks, Kulikov was assigned as many as one and a half thousand. Koller was given two thousand and sent somewhere as a prisoner. A-va said that he is now ready for anything. And Kulikov, upon returning to the prison, behaved as if he had never left it.
X. Exit from hard labor
All of these recent incidents occurred in last year my hard labor. I had many acquaintances both in the prison and outside its perimeter. I could freely receive books and write to my homeland.
The closer the term of hard labor approached, the more patient I became.
On the day of liberation, I said goodbye to everyone. They said goodbye to me in different ways, some were happy for me, some were angry.
After everyone left for work, I left the prison and never returned to it. At the forge, my shackles were removed. And here it is freedom and a new happy life.

Please note that this is only a summary literary work"Notes from the House of the Dead." In this summary many were missed important points and quotes.