 THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD by Fyodor Dostoevsky Read by Nicholas Bolton for Naxos audiobooks. PART ONE INTRODUCTION In the remote parts of Siberia, in the midst of steppes, mountains, or impassable forests, there are scattered here and there wretched little wooden towns of one or at the most two thousand inhabitants, with two churches, one in the town and one in the cemetery, more like fair-sized villages in the neighborhood of Moscow than towns. They are usually well provided with police officers, superintendents, and minor officials of all sorts. A post in Siberia is usually a snug berth in spite of the cold. The inhabitants are simple folk and not of liberal views. Everything goes on according to the old-fashioned, solid, time-honored traditions. The officials who may fairly be said to be the aristocracy of Siberia are either born and bred in Siberia, or men who have come from Russia, usually from Petersburg or Moscow, attracted by the extra pay, the double traveling expenses, and alluring hopes for the future. Those of them who are clever at solving the problem of existence almost always remain in Siberia and eagerly take root there. Later on they bring forth sweet and abundant fruit, but others of more levity and no capacity for solving the problems of existence soon weary of Siberia and wonder regretfully why they came. They wait with impatience for the end of their three years' term of office and instantly on the expiration of it petition to be transferred and return home, abusing Siberia and sneering at it. They are wrong. Not only from the official standpoint, but from many others, one may find a blissful existence in Siberia. The climate is excellent. There are many extremely wealthy and hospitable merchants, many exceedingly well-to-do natives. Young ladies bloom like roses and are moral to the last extreme. The wild gamebirds fly about the streets and positively thrust themselves upon the sportsmen. The amount of champagne consumed is supernatural. The caviar is marvellous. In some parts the crops often yield fifteen-fold. In fact it is a blessed land. One need only know how to reap the benefits of it. In Siberia people do know. In one of these lively, self-satisfied little towns with the most charming inhabitants, the memory of whom is imprinted forever on my heart, I met Alexander Pyotrovich Goyanchikov, a man who had been a gentleman and landowner born in Russia, had afterwards become a convict in the second division for the murder of his wife, and on the expiration of his ten years sentence was spending the rest of his life, humbly and quietly, as a settler in the town.