THE ORGANISATION OF OUR COMMON LIFE—THE “SIRIUSES”—WAGERS

On my arrival at the Kara prison I found in existence there an extremely elaborate organisation regulating the prisoners’ daily life, a system that the course of time had evolved and tested. The fundamental principle of the arrangement was equality of rights and duties; the inmates of the prison forming for all domestic purposes a commune or artèl, although the needs and wishes of individuals were taken into account as far as possible. It was free to anyone to enter this artèl or to remain outside, and whichever they did, material conditions—in the way of food, etc.—were the same for all.[83] The Government provided a certain quantity of food per day for each prisoner—about 3? lbs. of bread, nearly 6 oz. of meat, a few ounces of meal, and some salt. Friends of prisoners were permitted to furnish them with the means of obtaining extra provisions, and some of us, though, indeed, only a few, received such contributions regularly, this money as well as the governmental allowances becoming the common property of the artèl. The money was distributed as follows: part was set aside to supplement the food-rations, especially for buying more meat (this was called in our lingo “provisioning the stock-pot”); another portion was reserved for what was called common expenses—assistance to those who were leaving the prison and going to their 222appointed place of exile, subscriptions to such newspapers as we were allowed, postage, etc.; and a third part was divided equally among all for pocket-money. This last was spent according to the fancy of each individual, usually on tea, tobacco, fish, butter, and such things as were considered “secondary necessaries,” though sometimes these were sacrificed and the money saved up for months, or even for a year or more, in order to buy a book or some special luxury. Our funds were very scanty; during my whole time in Kara there was never more than three or four kopecks[84] per man per day for the “stock-pot,” and the pocket-money for each never amounted to more than a rouble[85] a month, often much less. In consequence of the primitive means of transport everything imported into Siberia cost three times as much as in Europe—a pound of sugar, for instance, cost thirty-five to forty kopecks—and the prisoners had to deny themselves many of the smallest comforts of material existence. Most of us used only brick-tea, i.e. tea of the commonest kind, and drank it without sugar; others thought even that a luxury, and drank hot water; while those who used sugar had to make one lump do for the whole day—that is, for three meals.

Actual money was never given us, everything was on paper only. All remittances were received by the commandant, who kept us informed of the amount he had in hand. Then we would order various articles, which would be given to our stàrosta to keep in the common chest, and whenever he gave anything out he made an entry in his account-book. At the end of each month the accounts were made up, each man being told whether he had overdrawn his pocket-money and so must start the next month with a minus of so many kopecks, or whether he had saved and was credited with a plus. The former would try to make good their deficit during the 223following month; but there were some who—with the best will in the world—could never make their expenditure and income balance, and were always in default, thus acquiring the nickname of “minuses,” while the thrifty were called “pluses.” No shame was attached to the being a “minus,” though it was scarcely a title of honour, and no one cared for the position. The “minuses” always aspired to get straight at any rate at Christmas or Easter, when pocket-money was generally increased by an influx of gifts, but it sometimes occurred that someone found it impossible to get his head above water, and it was then the custom that at one of our festivals—at Christmas, or on the commemoration of some revolutionary red-letter day—the stàrosta or someone should suggest the “whitewashing” of the bankrupt by wiping off his debt to the artèl. This proposal was always accepted by the majority, only the “minus” himself protesting, or refusing to consent.

Every morning the stàrosta presented himself with his order-book at the doors of the different rooms, and asked what was wanted. One would order a “sou’s” worth[86] of sugar, another a “brick” of tea, and so on. These orders were entered, to be later transferred to the account-book, and soon afterwards the stàrosta would bring the articles and give them to us through the peephole. The stàrosta also received from the steward for distribution all things that were due to us in the way of clothing, linen, and so forth, and he was our representative in all our dealings with the commandant. The election of the stàrosta was by ballot, and for a term of six months. The person elected was, of course, free to decline the post, and this occasionally happened, as, though an honourable 224office, it was one which entailed trouble and responsibility, and sometimes even a degree of unpleasantness.

Not only the stàrosta, but any member of the artèl might make proposals for changes in our arrangements, such proposals being written down, considered by the inmates of the different rooms, and then voted for or against in writing. It was the stàrosta’s business to collect the votes and to announce the results through the peepholes. Proposals of this kind were often most excitedly discussed, parties being formed to support or oppose them; and occasionally a subject would develop into a “cabinet crisis,” though the moving or rejecting of votes of confidence in the “government” (for we had a whole ministry, other officers being necessary besides the stàrosta) was not customary.

All work within the prison precincts we shared among us; but such services as made it necessary to go outside the yard (carrying wood and water, sanitary cleansing, etc.) were performed by ordinary criminals, whom we tipped, although not in any way obliged to do so. Our own duties were of two kinds: work for the community—such as cooking, cleaning the rooms, attending to the steam baths; and private work—washing clothes, mending, etc. Everyone except the weak or ill had to take his share in the former. The cooking was undertaken by groups of five men, each group serving for a week at a time. There were eight or nine such groups in all, the choice of belonging to any particular group being left free without regard to rooms. Each group had its head cook, his assistant, a cook for the invalids, and two helpers. The work was not light, and was in no way attractive; it began between six and seven in the morning, and was not usually over before five in the evening, by which hour one would be thoroughly tired out; and when the end of the week came it was delightful to think of idling for a time. On the other hand, the labour was a welcome relief to the monotony of our lives, and the kitchen was a meeting-place 225for the inhabitants of different rooms, forming a sort of clubhouse for those engaged in the cooking. Even when the work was hardest we had merry times there, discussing news, gossiping, and joking, the work itself often serving as a basis for fun and all sorts of nonsense. The head cook would give a raw hand some ridiculous job; one, for instance, would be set to pick potatoes out of the pot with a fork; another ordered to stand by a hole in the wall with a big stick and to knock on the head any blackbeetles that might make their appearance. I myself was given the task of chopping up millet-seed with a large knife, and other such absurdities would be invented.

Our cooks had to manage with very scanty materials. Vegetables frequently ran short, thus making it most difficult to vary the bill of fare. At the time of my arrival there were no potatoes to be had, and at midday, from motives of economy, only broth was provided, from which the meat had been taken to be served up separately for supper. When I sat down to dinner on my first day in Kara I was prepared for a frugal meal, having heard beforehand how poor the dietary was in this prison; but when I had spooned up the meagre soup without any accompaniment but bread and realised that this was my whole dinner, I felt somewhat downcast. I rose from table as hungry as I had sat down; and it was a long while before I could accustom myself to this sort of nourishment. Our culinary skill was chiefly displayed in the way of serving up the soup-meat at a subsequent meal. It was generally minced and heated up with some vegetables. The dish most favoured by the majority was meat cut into small pieces and mixed with groats; this was called “Everyone-likes-it,” and it was the pride of the cooks to decorate our menu with this original name at least twice a week. The greedy ones among us used to spy around the kitchen, and never failed to spread the joyful tidings: “They’re making ‘Everyone-likes-it’ to-day!” The cooks generally put their best foot forward on Saturday, when 226their week of office expired. For years it had been the custom to have an extra dish on that day, a piròg or sort of pie made of flour, rice, and mince. The cooks used to save up scraps of meat for it all through the week, and sometimes the piròg would attain such dimensions that we could not dispose of it at one sitting, and a remainder would be left over for Sunday’s breakfast. On the whole our food was insufficient, not very nutritious, and still less appetising. Bread only had we at discretion, as the rations given out by the steward were so large that some was always left over. Only those who had no stomach for a quantity of dry bread need go hungry. But we hardly ever had our fill except on great feast days, when not only was our pocket-money augmented, but an extra allowance of food was given. The cooks would then indulge us with various dainties and luxuries; roast meat would come to table, or cutlets, and white bread. Praise must not be denied to our cooks; there were among them virtuosi, whose handiwork was quite artistic—worthy, as we expressed it, “of better houses.”

Invalid diet was not provided specially; the cooks had to arrange for that as best they could, and make it as varied as was compatible with economy. During my time there was no severe illness, and special diet was only needed for those who were delicate or who suffered from some chronic ailment. The question who was to be given invalid fare was decided by Prybylyev[87]—one of our number who acted as our medical adviser, and who showed much skill in that capacity, though at home he had only been a veterinary surgeon. His fame in the art of healing became widesp............