Kovàlskaya’s friends asserted that she had purposely provoked the conflict in order to effect her removal to another prison, so hateful had the sojourn in Kara become to her. The Governor-General’s order would therefore have been most welcome to her; but the stupid, cowardly commandant Masyukov supposed otherwise, and took it into his head that she and her companions would offer resistance. He thereupon came to the idiotic and inhuman decision that the delinquent should be conveyed away secretly. Early one morning, while the prisoners still slept, gendarmes accompanied by ordinary convicts burst into her cell, seized on the sleeping Kovàlskaya, and dragged her, clad only in her nightdress, to the office, where she was ordered to dress and make ready to start for her new place of confinement. Naturally the unfortunate lady screamed when aroused so rudely from her sleep, and the other prisoners waking up sprang from their beds and were witnesses of the inexplicable and insulting treatment to which their comrade was subjected. They could imagine nothing else but that a common assault on her honour was meditated, and their fury against the commandant knew no bounds.
For a long time only uncertain rumours about these events reached our ears, for our secret post was not working regularly at the time. We were first supplied with exact tidings through Golubtsòv, the sergeant of the guard, in a very unusual way. This honest fellow, Golubtsòv, who could hardly read and write, was a very important personage in our prison. He was a remarkably sensible, clever, and tactful man; his relations with the “politicals” during a long course of years and under different commandants had taught him a great deal, and he thoroughly understood our way of looking at things. He was thus enabled to avoid rubs and disputes, and we were always on the best of terms with him; this strengthened his position, and with his good sense and tact gave him the upper hand over the stupid and inexperienced Masyukov. The wise sergeant, in fact, was the presiding genius of the place, and ruled the commandant completely.
When the Governor-General’s order arrived, and Masyukov in his foolish shortsightedness evolved his plan of carrying off Elizabeth Kovàlskaya, Golubtsòv warned him what would be the consequences; but for once no heed was paid to his advice, and it was only when the women prisoners started a hunger-strike as a protest against their comrade’s treatment that the commandant sought counsel from his subordinate. Golubtsòv advised him to lay the matter before the “politicals” in the men’s prison, and ask us to intervene. This was the more natural and reasonable, because one of our number, Kalyùshny, had a wife and a sister among the strikers. He had been a student in the University of Khàrkov, was an intelligent, high-spirited young man, a charming companion, and a great favourite among us. He was a Terrorist, had been sentenced in 1888 to fifteen years’ “katorga,” and with him his wife, Nadyèshda Smirnitskaya. Maria Kalyùshnaya, my companion on the journey to Kara, was his sister, and both these ladies had witnessed the alarming scene which had led to the desperate protest they were now making. These facts suggested to the wise sergeant his plan, and he advised Masyukov to appoint Kalyùshny as intermediary in the affair. Masyukov was sensible enough to agree; he had Kalyùshny brought to his house, and told him straightforwardly all that had taken place, ending with the information that Kalyùshny’s wife, his sister, and Maria Kovalèvskaya, had been refusing food for several days. He then begged Kalyùshny to go to Ust-Kara, pacify the women, and induce them to give up their hunger-strike, promising beforehand that he would do anything in reason to give them satisfaction. Kalyùshny said to us afterwards that he was sure the unlucky commandant really regretted his conduct in the affair.
Kalyùshny told Masyukov he must consult his comrades before undertaking the mission, and asked that we might be allowed to take counsel together. This was agreed to, and we all met to consider and discuss the circumstances—a thing that had not been heard of in Kara since the prison had been put under the gendarmerie. The tidings given us by the unhappy husband and brother regarding the hunger-strike of the women moved us deeply. When he ceased speaking a stillness as of death reigned over our gathering, and then the usually silent Yatzèvitch began the debate. Without much discussion we decided that another delegate must accompany Kalyùshny, and that they should try to prevail on the women to desist from their protest, assuring them that we should ourselves now take over the arrangement of the business with Masyukov. To the commandant we declared that he must apologise to the three ladies.
It was arranged that our two delegates should be taken to the women’s prison, fifteen versts (about ten miles) distant, accompanied by gendarmes, though all this was entirely against the regulations.
When they returned from their mission, and we had assembled to hear the result, they told us that the famishing women absolutely refused to be contented with an apology from the commandant. They all three declared that they would only desist from their protest if Masyukov were withdrawn from Kara.
The majority of us—myself among the number—saw at once that this was an impossible demand. The reactionary Government, with Count Dmitri Tolstoi at its head, would never recall the commandant, even if all the “politicals” in Siberia starved themselves to death; but we thought we might perhaps find a way out of the difficulty if we could induce the commandant to ask of his own accord to be transferred elsewhere on some pretext or other. To this the commandant on his side, and the ladies on theirs, consented; but the latter insisted positively that if Masyukov had not taken his departure within a certain fixed period of some months, they would again refuse food and persist in their protest to the bitter end.
This, as might readily be foreseen, meant merely a postponement of the question. But I must return for the present to our own affairs in the men’s prison.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE “COLONISTS”—FURTHER EVENTS IN THE WOMEN’S PRISON—THE HUNGER-STRIKES—THE YAKUTSK MASSACRE
The summer of 1888 brought troubles also to us in the men’s prison, though they had nothing to do with the grievances of the women.