Dostoyevsky
by Simon King

 

 

A group of men were led to the firing squad. They kept their heads lowered in fear, resignation and desperation. They had been gathered together in a boulevard in Moscow. The street was grubby, but it was also oppressively cold. It was winter, but it was not snowing. The prisoners would have to withstand the freezing temperatures before bringing their lives to a premature end. They looked haggard, dishevelled, devastated and weary. They had been held captive for a few weeks so as to prepare them for this most fatal moment – their execution. The soldiers, who were covered in overcoats, knelt down and pointed their long rifles in their direction. There were six soldiers altogether who had been requested to execute six men. The soldiers wore black uniforms with a braided cord, an ornamental lace, metal tips and tags. They wore ushankas, which were fur hats with ear-covering flaps which are tied at the chin to protect their ears, chin and jaw. The prisoners shivered as the soldiers perfected their aim.

In the middle of the group stood Fyodor Dostoyevsky. He had a bald head and a long black beard. He had a white shirt on, but that was it, so he really felt the oppressive cold. He gazed at the gaggle of soldiers with fear.

‘Prisoners, kneel down!’ shouted one of the soldiers. One of the soldiers brought out a cross. ‘Kiss the cross!’ The prisoners all crawled over to the cross and kissed it. Although it was extremely cold, Dostoyevsky sweated and shook as he kissed the cross. This was part of the ceremony which they always followed during executions. The soldiers took out swords and waved them above their heads, simulating a beheading. Perhaps, if there were a God, he would be united with him after this torrid affair, but during this point in time Dostoyevsky was a staunch atheist. He found all of this humiliating, but it was something that he wanted to stoically withstand so that he could finally die.

The group had been sentenced to death on November 10 for engaging in anti-government activities. They had been part of the Petrashevsky Circle, a liberal discussion group accused of conspiring against the Tsar. They had been accused of listening to stories, criticising the armed forces, owning an illegal printing press in order to create anti-government propaganda, contributing to a plot against the Tsar and reading aloud a letter containing criticism of the orthodox church and the Tsarist government. The revolutions of 1848 had been crushed all over Europe and Nicholas 1st was particularly adept at crushing all forms of dissent, sedition and insubordination. They would not tolerate any of this in their Orthodox, God-loving country. It was something that they had to contain, monitor and repress at all times.

Dostoyevsky’s brain rushed with intrusive thoughts. He was only twenty-five years-old, yet he had exhibited so much promise. He had written two novels, Poor Folk and The Double. Whilst the former had been met with a rapturous reception, the latter on the whole had been met a with a muted reception. Despite this, Dostoyevsky knew that he would write many more brilliant books. His first two books had been short, but he knew that he wanted to write lengthy, complex, sprawling works. Now he would not be able to do this because his life was about to be cut short. Sure, he did have a social conscience, which his why he joined the Petrashevsky Circle, but his overriding ambition was to write great works of literature. He did care about justice, about fairness, about equality, deprivation, and about human dignity. In many ways, this is why he wrote Poor Folk, but his overriding goal was to write. In the end, it was this social conscience which was about bring his life to a premature end.

As he was kneeling down, Dostoyevsky looked up at the cross and the spears hanging over him. Inevitably, he felt depressed and defeated. The end of the world had come, so he would just have to let it transpire. There was nothing that could be done to prevent it.

The soldiers went back to their original positions and gripped their rifles. The moment had come – they were about to fire. Dostoyevsky drew his breath.

Just as they were about to shoot, an envoy from the Tsar appeared. He was wearing a blue uniform with red tassels hanging over it. He said the following: ‘Although you nine young men were all condemned to be executed today on the 22nd of December of 1849, the Tsar has just issued a last-minute reprieve. So, although it was instructed that you would be executed today, that has been revoked. What will happen instead is that you will be sent over to Siberia for four years. You will spend your time there carrying out hard labour.’

The six soldiers withdrew their rifles. The envoy appeared there open-mouthed just as he finished delivering his speech. Dostoyevsky looked at the soldiers and he looked at his former comrades. He seemed flabbergasted. The end was nigh, but it seemed as if his life would continue. It seemed as if everything had come to an end. It was not true that he would not write more novels. He would no longer participate in clandestine meetings. He would be shipped off to Siberia. He would carry out highly unpleasant hard labour. He would do this, but he would also be alive. Dostoyevsky smiled. He might have agitated and railed against the repressive policies of Nicholas 1st, but he had also reprieved him. He had kept him alive, but he had also subjected him to four years of unpleasant labour. This was, however, preferable to death. He touched his beard and smiled. After all, wouldn’t the world be better off blessed by his future writings? Wouldn’t the world be better with those sprawling, complicated, lengthy novels? Dostoyevesky certainly thought so. So, Nicholas 1st had certainly carried out an excellent service for everyone.

 

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