years, hopelessly insane. In the opinion of Dr. Miskievitch the
affliction is largely due to a total inertia of the reasoning faculties,
which after a time becomes a positive torture to the educated mind.
[Footnote 42: The Russian explorer, Von Wrangell, mentions an apparently
similar mental disease as existing in these regions in 1820. He writes:
"There is here, indeed (Sredni-Kolymsk), as in all Northern Siberia,
that singular malady called _mirak_, which, according to the universal
superstition of the people, proceeds from the ghost of a much-dreaded
sorceress, which is supposed to enter into and torment the patient. The
_mirak_ appears to me to be only an extreme degree of hysteria; the
persons attacked are chiefly women."--"Siberia and the Polar Sea," by
Von Wrangell, 1829.]
This evil could undoubtedly be remedied. For instance, were mental work
of any kind, even unremunerative, provided by the Government it would be
eagerly welcomed by every exile with whom I conversed, but the
authorities seem to consider apathy of the mind as essential a
punishment as privation of the body. Some years ago the exiles here were
permitted to instruct young children of the Free Community, and their
life was thus rendered infinitely less unbearable than before, but
shortly afterwards, and for no apparent reason, an order was issued
from St. Petersburg to cancel this "privilege."
I found, oddly enough, an almost total lack of resentment amongst the
victims consigned here by an infamous travesty of justice. Madame
Akimova, for instance, a plain but homely-looking person, seemed devoted
to the care of her miserable little household to the exclusion of all
mundane matters. I sometimes wondered, as I sat in her hut, and watched
the pale, patient little woman clad in rusty black ceaselessly striving
to make his home less wretched for her husband, whether this could
really be Theisa Akimova, the famous Nihilist, whose name had one time,
and not so very long ago, electrified Europe. We often spoke of Paris,
which Akimova knew well, but she evinced little or no interest in the
political questions of the day, and I never once heard her murmur a word
of complaint. Nevertheless she is here for life. Zimmermann was another
example of mute resignation, but I fancy that in his case years of exile
had somewhat dulled the edge of a once powerful intellect. Strajevsky,
Miskievitch, and the others were enduring a life of captivity and
suffering f
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