Hopes aroused by emancipating the serfs in 1861 were soon quashed. Unfair land allotments and low rates of peasant education made integration into civil society a rough task. Over the next two decades, educated society devised many plans to aid the common folk, most of which involved educating and alerting them to their needs.Ideas came from the right and left, from the church, the military, the liberals, and in the following piece, from radical populists. In the summer of 1873, populist students went "to the people" in villages. Though they expressed their ideas in traditional forms like the folktale, their literature was "for the people," not "by the people." Here, Lev Tikhomirov (who later moved to the right) revises a folktale from Poshekhonia to criticize post-reform land partition and institutions such as the nobility and church. Tikhomirov followed a rule that other populists would learn only later: criticize the elite, but never the tsar. For a number of reasons, the populists failed to sway village folk, and within a year most were on trialÐthough many were acquitted by juries.
These excerpts are translated from Agitatsionnaia literatura russkikh revoliutsionnykh narodnikov. Potaennye proizvedeniia 1873-1875 gg. (Leningrad: Nauka, 1970).
Once upon a time not too long ago, though nobody knows quitewhen, and nobody quite knows where (though they say it was in MotherRussia) there were four brothers, Ivan, Stepan, Demian and Luka. Theyhad lived deep in the forest from the day they were born to theirmaturity, never having seen another human face. How they got into theforest in the first place, I have to admit I never heard.
The four brothers lived together heart and soul; they loved eachother, helped each other in all things, and each would have ratherstarved than go without feeding his brothers. They built themselves acabin in the woods, and every day, while one brother stayed home totake care of the housekeeping, the others went into the woods tohunt. So living together in harmony, the brothers knew neither wantnor grief; and while they also knew no luxury, that did not seem tobother them.
The brothers had lived in the forest from their earliest years,and so they didn't know that there were people on earth besidesthemselves. They supposed that there were, but they didn't know howthey lived, and they didn't even think about it.
One day the brothers were out hunting and they met a bear. Theysaw that Misha had a splendid coat. Why, they asked, shouldn't theykill the beast? The bear took to his heels, with the brothers rightafter him, and they chased him like that for almost the whole day;the damned beast just wouldn't give up. Finally they reached a tallmountain; the bear climbed to the top and hid in the woods, since themountain was completely overgrown by trees. The brothers saw thatthey were too tired to follow him up the hill. They moaned andgroaned a bit for having let the beast get away, but there wasnothing to be done, and since it was getting dark it was time to gethome.
All the brothers wanted to do was get home, but not a one of themknew which direction to turn. They had gotten lost chasing the bearall day. The brothers thought a while, and sent Ivan up thatmountain, so that he could climb up to the very top and spot theroad, because things are more visible from high up. Ivan didn'trefuse; he went to the mountain and in a minute was hidden by theforest.
The brothers waited and waited, but Ivan didn't return. Thebrothers started to worry whether something had happened, and theysent Stepan to the mountain to seek their brother and find the road.Demian stayed below. He waited an hour, then another; still nobrothers. Demian got scared and climbed up the mountain himself.
He climbed up to the top, but no brothers. So he started shoutingand calling themÐnope, it was like they been swallowed up. Demianburst into tears and climbed up a tree to find the way home. Helooked from on high, and he saw a wondrous thing. On the other sideof the hill the forest ended, and beyond it stretched a broad plain,so huge that no edge was in sight. Several villages and hamlets stoodon the plain, farms and meadows could be seen, cattle were grazing inthe fields, wagons were driving along the roads and people werewalking. Demian saw a great multitude of people. A city in thedistance was barely visible, with white-stone buildings that hadthree stories, with tall churches whose golden cupolas glistened inthe bright sunshine. This was what Demian saw from the top of thetree. He had never seen so many people, so many villages and hamlets,he had never seen such beautiful white buildings and gold-domedchurches. It all surprised him greatly, and he kept watching untilthe sun set and the evening began.
"Miraculous," he muttered.
"Truly wondrous," someone answered from another treetop.
"Verily, it's wondrous!" someone said from a third tree.
Demian looked and saw his brothers in the trees. It turned outthat they had been so enthralled by the spectacle that they hadn'theard him yelling and calling them. The brothers rejoiced and leftfor home, because they could see the road clearly from thetreetops.
As the brothers walked they discussed what they had seen from themountain.
"Here brothers," said Ivan, "must be the place where people livein paradise. There were lots of them, and they could master anylabor. Whether chopping the forest down, drying the swamp out,lengthening the road, building white-stone palacesÐthey could doit all, because there were many of them living together and theirstrength was great. Since we live the four of us alone, what can wedo? Nothing. We barely live better than some bear. That's the truth,by God. And if someone gets sick, there's lots of them, somebody willalways be healthy, and with us, remember how it was when the bearwinged me, and Luka was sick with a feverÐwe all almost droppedoff from hunger. What can you say? what could be better than a lot ofpeople living together, everyone's happier and more satisfied.
"So, brothers," said Stepan, "should we walk out of the forest,take a look at the people and show ourselves? What a life we'll lead?We'll live off the fat of the land."
"So let's go," agreed the brothers.
They arrived home and told their younger brother about everythingthey had seen, and decided to leave the forest the next day.
No sooner said than done. They put on their best clothes, tookprovisions for several days, bowed to all four points of the compassand left their native forest. In two days they had made their way tothe plain and were walking along a country road; their path wasflanked by rustling rye fields, and the brothers' hearts were lightand cheery.
Suddenly they heard the sound of wheels. It was a squalid carthitched to a wretched nag, carrying a pale, skinny, raggedypeasant.
"Hello, good man," said the brothers.
"Hello," he answered, "where has the Lord brought you from?"
The brothers told him where they were from and why they had come.The peasant bobbed his beard up and down and said: "You came for nogood reason, friends. If you had stayed put in the forest, you wouldnever run into the landlord or constable. You will go through muchgrief now."
The brothers took fright: "Tell us, grandpa, why would it havebeen easier to stay in the forest."
"Why should I go around scaring people? I've got no time toexplain things to you, friends. I'll just say: go back to the forest.It'll be better there."
On that note, the old man left. The brothers stopped and began tofigure if the old man had been telling the truth or lying. Theythought and thought and decided that he must have been lying, becausewhat here could possibly make life bad? Lots of land, lots of folks,and if life had been so bad, then why had people built palaces thatcould be seen even from the mountains? Nope, the old man must havelied.
The brothers set off again. They saw a pilgrim walking along andsinging a song, a song that was so plaintive that the brothersstopped to listen.
I walk through the meadows; the wind whistles there:
It's cold, pilgrim, cold;
It's cold, my friend, cold;
I walk through the grainÐwhy so thin, grain?
It's cold, pilgrim, cold;
It's cold, my friend, cold;
I get to a village: do you live warmly, peasant?I walk through the herds&emdash;why so weak, cattle?
It's cold, pilgrim, cold;
It's cold, my friend, cold;Another village: do you eat and drink well, peasant?
We're starving, pilgrim, starving;
We're starving, friend, starving;
And a third: peasant, why do you beat your woman?
From the cold, pilgrim, cold;
From the cold, my friend, cold.
In the fourth: why go to the tavern peasant?
From the hunger, pilgrim, hunger.
From hunger, friend, hunger.It's cold, pilgrim, cold;
It's cold, my friend, cold.
I traveled all of Russia: the peasant moans and howls,
He moans from the cold,
He howls from the hunger.
The pilgrim passed, but the brothers remained standing, feelingtheir hearts sinking as they listened to his song.
"Well, brothers, you have to think that people don't sing songslike that when life is good. It seems that the old man was speakingthe truth."
"It seems that he wasn't lying," said Stepan.
"What should we do now?" asked the third brother.
"Go find where it's better," said the fourth.
And the brothers decided to go find out where life was better. Onewent north, another went south, a third went east, and the fourthwent west. Then they would get together again and decide which waythey should go. The brothers bid farewell and went their separateways.
Ivan, the eldest brother, went to the north and soon came upon avillage. He saw peasants and their women working in a field. It wasscorching hot, and sweat poured off them in streams. Amongst themstrolled their master&emdash;in a straw hat, fancy foreign clothing,and holding a walking stick. He walked along without doing anythinghimself, except yelling at the peasants. Finally he muttered, "My,how hot the fields are, I've worn myself to the bone," took a seat inhis carriage and rode off.
Ivan walked up to the peasants and asked: " Tell me, respectedsirs, who that was who just rode off?"
"That," they answered, "was the master."
"The master? Uh-huh. And why is it, pray tell, that you're hereworking while he does nothing and rides around in his carriage? Andhe dressed so much better than you? And so soft: it's too hot for himto do anything. Isn't it hot for you too? Tell me, gentle peasants,why he should have such a privilege. Do you love him so much, or isit something else?"
At first the peasants just laughed at what Ivan was saying; theythought the man was joking around. But then Ivan explained that hehad spent his whole life in the forest and didn't know anything abouthow things are.
So the peasants began explaining: "The master has all theseprivileges because he owns all the land. We have very little of ourown. So the peasant goes to the master for a job, for his work hedoesn't get very much, and the harvest all goes to the master. Itcomes out that the master pays all the workers together about athousand bucks. The master himself gets two or three thousand forthat same rye or wheat, which the peasants sowed and grew andharvested. Now that's profit. Didn't even soil his pinkie, and stillhe nets a thousand or two. Get it? And he does it here, and anotherplace, and a third, because he has so much land. God knows how manythousands have gathered in his pocket, though he doesn't do anything.It happens sometimes that peasants farm the master's land for quitrent. This way, the master still does nothing, but he gets half ofwhat the peasant earns. There's lots of peasants. So the master alonereceives as much as they do together. That's why he can get by doingnothing, that's why his clothes are so nice, and that's why he's sosoft."
Ivan listened and listened, then he said: "So the whole reason isthat the master owns the land. But that's not true, fellows. The landis God's, not the landlords, just like the water, air, sun and stars.If I tell you that the sun is mine, will you pay me money to have itshine? No, of course not. So why do you pay for the land?"
"Brother," said the peasants, "we know that without you. Wewouldn't pay the master or think of sowing his land voluntarily.Soldiers will come with rifles and cannons, they'll begin shootingand stabbing, and robbing us, so that you submit yourself gradually.You submit yourself …"
At that moment the overseer approached and chased Ivan away, sothat he would not hinder work.
Ivan went into the village itself. The poverty there was a cryingshame. Huts so wobbly they could barely stand. The farmsteads didn'thave fences or yards. Your heart just cried out for them. Inside itwas even worse: dirt, stench, children crying and begging for food… Ivan wasn't used to it, and he broke down and wept. Nearby thevillage he saw the lord's mansion: a two-story stone building, withan iron roof, painted green, and a wrought-iron balcony. The housewas surrounded by a flower-bed planted with an occasional flower.There were a variety of out-buildings that showed a wealthyhomestead: horses, and pigs, and all sorts of domestic fowl. On thebalcony sat the master himself, smoking his pipe and sipping hiscoffee.
Ivan was irked, and in his naiveté, he said to the master:"Master, would you be so kind to tell me why the peasants are sopoor?"
The master glanced at him angrily and answered: "Your peasants arelazy drunkards. If they'd only work, they wouldn't live inpoverty."
"Is that so, master? Why is it that you do nothing, yet you havesuch a fine house. The peasants are over there working in the field,and you are sipping coffee. It's not laziness that makes the peasantpoor, master; it's that you take away everything that they work for.No matter how much you work, you won't work your way out of poverty.And that's not right, master!"
Ivan didn't say it to offend the master, he thought in hissimplicity to tweak the master's conscience. Ivan didn't know yetthat a rich man's conscience is like forged steel: you'll never getat it. His kind heart made him say it, but the master lost histemper: "How dare you," he yelled, "you peasant lout, be soimpertinent. You son of a bitch, you rabble-rouser, you know whereI'll have you sent. Hey, Vanka, Mishka! Take this fool to theconstable: let him teach him some manners!"
Ivan was taken to the constable, but the master could not calmdown for a long time. He kept saying "Such people, lord, such people!Wild animals! Let won't even let you drink your coffee in peace."
The constable gave Ivan a splendid lesson: he thrashed him withburning lashes, God had laid such a burden on his soul. He gave thebeating himself, muttering: "Don't be cheeky, bastard, don't you darespeak a word to your seniors. Be obedient to rich folk. Remember onceand for all, fool: don't fight with a strong man, don't go to courtwith a rich man. Know the law, and know your place."
He whipped Ivan for a long time, and kept saying the same thing.Ivan finally understood the law was there so the rich could bully thepoor, and the poor could put up with everything silently and bowingto the ground.
The constable finally released Ivan to repent his sins, and Ivantore out of the village without a glance back. "Here," he thought,"they'll skin you alive," and he quickly reached the next village.But here again he saw the same thing: again the peasants were workingand living in poverty, and the lord did nothing and lived in wealth.So he continued on. He went along for a while, then he got tired andhungry. "Now," he thought, "it would be nice to rest." and he saw aninn by the side of the road. He saw travelers and passersby stoppingin, eating, drinking tea … Ivan went in too.
"Give me," he told the owner, "some vodka and something toeat."
"Do you have any money?"
"Money? No, not really."
The innkeeper burst out laughing. "Do you mean you want somethingwithout money? Clever, brother; just we don't do things that way.Here's what you do: sell me your fur coat, and you can eat and drinkfor that money. I can give you a whole ruble for it."
Ivan's coat was made of sable: he had trapped them himself in thewoods, and that coat was worth much more than a silver ruble, butIvan because of his lack of experience, Ivan didn't know. He hadfound out about vodka by chance; a passerby on the road had let himtry some.
"Fine," he said, "make it a ruble." He took off the coat andgrabbed the ruble. The innkeeper sighed ah! "My, but the Lord hassent me a fool!" His conscience bothered him a bit, and he stood Ivana half-shtoff bottle for free.
Ivan sat drinking the vodka and biting it back with snacks. Thenand there a raggedy peasant sat down next to him with nothing to eator drink, just watching the others. You could hear that his belly wasrumbling too. Ivan noticed him and said: "Hey, old man!"
"Whaddya want?" responded the peasant.
"Want a bit to eat and drink? It's no fun alone."
The peasant drank and ate, and he and Ivan began talking. Atfirst, as happens, they got to know each other, checked out eachother's names, then the peasant asked where Ivan was from, where hewas headed, and why. Ivan answered that, well, I'm coming from theforest, going to look for where life is better, my brothers went tothe south, west and east, and I got the north to go to … Thepeasant listened to him, and finally burst out in uproariouslaughter.
"Now that's a good one, Ivan, honest to God! What oddballs youare! Straight from the woods. Listen, friend, no matter whether yougo to the south or anywhere else: you'll never find anywhere wherepeasants live well! Believe me, I've been around. Judge for yourself:what could make peasant life good? See for yourself."
"Why shouldn't life be good?" said Ivan.
"What a fool you are, brother! You're just not talking sense.Judge for yourself. Most important: do peasants have land?"
"Don't know."
"You don't know? So I'll tell you: nope, not at all. We do have atiny bit, but it's worthless land, cast-offs. Say what! I see thatyou understand nothing, so I'll tell you. We used to be thelandowners', we were serfs, understand? We belonged to them body andsoul … It would happen that the son of a bitch would say I own,say, hundred, maybe five hundred souls. By God, he didn't even ownhis own soul, it was long ago sold to the devil. And then, in '61, onthe nineteenth of February, the Tsar liberated us … I'll bet youdon't even know what a tsar is. The Tsar, brother, is boss of all theland, nobody is above him, whatever he wants he does, and no law iswritten for him."
"Where did he come from? Was he elected for something?"
"What elected? He was just sired by his father. His father wastsar, so he's tsar."
"I can see what strange ways you have."
"That's right, brother, strange! But that's not where the realstrangeness is. Just you keep listening. When we were serfs, wesuffered horrible torments from our masters, and we had onehope&emdash;the Tsar. We relied on him like a mountain of stone. Wethought that he, our sire, would somehow take pity and free us fromthat torture, and give us our sweat-soaked land. And what do youthink? He did free us … But in a way that I wouldn't wish on anenemy, that's how. First off, from those same landowners, from thosesame villains they appointed civil mediators, who determined whatland went to us and what lands stayed with the landowners. They gaveus the sand and swamp and rocky … And they didn't distribute theland for free, but for money, big money at that. The land wasn'tworth the money they took from us. Since the peasant wouldn't agreeto it, those same mediators called in the soldiers and began shootingwith rifles, cannons … disaster: whether or not you wantit, you have to take the land, though it's not worth a red cent."
They drank down another glassful. Ivan asked: "Since thelandowners wouldn't give up the land, the soldiers were sent to fightthem?"
"What! How could that ever happen?"
"So that means it was all done for the benefit of themasters?"
"For them, everything for them! Now listen on. They partitionedland for us, liberated us. We were free to go wherever we wanted: tothe stockade, to Siberia, to the grave. Anywhere. So we started a newlife. It didn't come out right. Not enough land, the land isworthless, it doesn't grow anything. And taxes were much worse thanbefore: there were already land-redemption fees, and the soul taxwent up four times higher! So it comes out that you have to go to thevery same landowner, get yourself hired by him, because you have toget money from somewhere. Peasants still need bread, and hay, andwood … We have little pasture land, even less meadowland, and nowoods at all. You go to the landowner and take the land quitrent oron lease. We've fallen into worse bondage than before. Whatever youdo, there's a fine. What used to be done by club is done by rublesnow. And that, forgive me Lord, is our life!"
They had another drink. They sat in silence for a while, and thenthe peasant said: "So you see, dear fellow, that peasants don't haveanything to make life good. The taxes alone get bigger and biggereach year. But there's no money&emdash;people sell their last cow topay their debts. They even whip you for it. And nowadays there's thesoldiers: they shoot, they kill … What a life!"
"Tell me, old man," said Ivan, "where do they get thesesoldiers?"
"That's the thing, dear fellow, they come from our own, from ourown …"
"How's that?"
"From peasants mostly. They take our sons and brothers, give themmilitary training and then send them against us. They shoot their ownfathers and brothers to death. How much of one sin can you have!"
"How odd our ways are. That means that you're killingyourselves?"
"Ourselves, friend, ourselves. Another man might not believe it,but it's the truth: ourselves."
Ivan walked along further and he saw that the peasant had beentelling the truth. He walked through many villages and cities, andeverywhere life was hard for peasants and workers. Anger took overhim, and he was already thinking about turning back when he decidedto stop by another village. As he got closer he saw two people ridinga cart and having a heated conversation. The horse was going at awalking pace, and Ivan quickly caught up to the cart and heard thisconversation:
"Nikita Ivanovich, you make sure to keep your word: get them topay up their taxes quickly, so they have no time to get it straight.Send their livestock to market first, and I'll be there to buy it upfor a song. Hee, hee, hee, by God it's a clever idea! And I won'tforget you, Nikita Ivanich, you'll get ten percent."
"Alright, alright, you don't have to bug me. I'll do what I said,"answered the other.
Ivan passed the cart and got to the village. He met a peasantthere.
"Tell me," he asked, "who is that over there riding in thecart?"
"That," said the peasant, "is our elder, and he riding with themeat dealer from the city."
Ivan guessed what was going on. "You wait," he thought, "youbloodsuckers, I'll expose you."
The elder and meat dealer arrived. The meat dealer went into thehut, and the elder went to summon a village assembly. The peasantsgathered: "What's up?" The elder began demanding money from them,taxes. The peasants answered:
"Hold your horses, Nikita Ivanovich, let us sell our grain. Thenwe can pay up in full."
The elder got itchy. "Nope," he said, "I can't hold on even asecond. I'm not a free man myself. If you don't have any money, thenI'll have to seize your livestock!"
"God has abandoned you, Nikita Ivanich, do you want to ruin us inthe end? Wait a bit. We'll pay up everything we owe."
"You can talk away all you want!," shouted Nikita Ivanich, and hebegan to inventory the livestock. At that moment the meat dealerappeared.
"Well," he said, "is your livestock for sale?"
"Yes it is," said the elder, "and why do you ask?"
"I'd buy it if the price were right."
They said all this without giving any sign that they had squaredit all beforehand.
"Okay, buy what you want!" answered the elder. And he beganappraising the cattle: whatever cost thirty rubles, he charged three… The trading going on was awful! Ivan couldn't stand it anylonger, he stepped forward and said:
"Listen, pious folk, to what these swindlers said when I waslistening, your elder and the meat dealer."
He told them everything they had agreed on, and how the meatdealer would share the profits.
My good sirs! When he said that, the peasants got good and mad andbegan calling the elder a dirty Jew and bloodsucker (miroed). Hesnapped back, a word for a word, and the peasants began thrashingelder. "Don't you sell out the mir. " Ivan grabbed Nikita Ivanovichand practically yanked out his beard … Finally the elder rippedfree, jumped on his horse and tore out of the village. The peasantswanted to take after the meat dealer, but there was no way: therewasn't a trace left of him.
"Why do you keep such a swindler as your elder?" asked Ivan.
"Who keeps him?"
"What do you mean: didn't you elect him?"
"Oh-ho, dear man, we didn't elect him no how&emdash;he electedhimself!"
"How himself?"
"Easy. At the last election we wanted someone else in his place,but the rascal found out and called an assembly for only hissupporters, swindlers just like him … And he was made elderagain! And he even laughs at us: 'You're idiots, he says, you'llnever bump me from this spot, he says, I'll be your boss forever'.And that was true: we made a complaint …"
"Why a complaint? Just drive him out, that's all there is toit!"
"We can't, dear fellow, it's against the law. We can't get bywithout laws, things are strict here: you can't even spit withoutbreaking a law. And you talk about banishing the elder … Youhave to write out a complaint. We wrote, and gave it to the justiceof the peace. And what of it? The elder, Nikita Ivanov that is, isn'ta fool either, he's buddy-buddy with the mediator. Whenever there's aholiday or name-day, he goes off to wish him the best and bring alittle gift, and one for his wife, and one for the kid … Themediator thinks the world of him. He read our complaint, came over,cursed out the entire mir and left it at that. We send anothercomplaint, which by law meant we needed to call an assembly. But themediator and all his friends, his noblemen were at the assembly: theydidn't give us satisfaction there either. Then we wrote a thirdcomplaint, just like the law says, to the provincial officials.Again, they were relatives and friends of the same justices thatrejected our complaint at the assembly. And so they didn't doanything for us there either. And so it turns out that the mediatorcomes back and says "You've gotten it into your head to rebel!" Hewent through almost the entire village. He says "If you don't calmdown, you rabble, it's Siberia for you!"
We thought and thought and sent a messenger to Moscow to the verybest lawyer to ask what we needed to do. The lawyer looked over ouraffairs, thought, and took a look at the laws. "Nothing," he says,"can be done for you fellows. The law is against you. The law is setup in such a way that the bosses can do whatever they want, andpeasants have to shut up and take it." He explained the law to us,and we thought there was nothing to do. And so we don't tryanymore!"
"So get rid of him without the law," said Ivan, "the law isn'tworth a damn for you!"
"Well, then the soldiers will come, and begin shooting andpillaging."
"But there's a hundred times more of you peasants. What are youscared of?"
"You see, it's like this … If someone would take the firststep, we wouldn't sit twiddling our thumbs. But we're all scared tostart first …"
"By God, you're rags and not men. They don't beat you enough!"
Next day the constable came with for the search with witnesses.The elder announced to him that the peasants were revolting and thatthe instigator was Ivan, a passing wanderer. Well, the constableseized him at once, put him in chains and set him in the stockade.The trial began in a month, and he was sent to Siberia forinstigating a rebellion.
[Two more sections follow that are not translated here: The adventures of Stepan in the south, and Demian in the east. After their encounters with the authorities, they too are exiled to Siberia]
The youngest brother Luka went west. Whether he walked for a longtime, where he saw many places, I don't know. I only know that he sawenough of peasant woe. He saw how the lords and authorities fleecethe working people, he saw how oppressed poor folk were, he saw theunjust judges, he saw that the poor and oppressed by ignorance andcowardice endured overbearing grievances, and still resignedthemselves, moaning, like a dog that the master beats.
Luka saw enough of that. He began to hate both the greed of therich and the cowardice of the poor.
Once he was walking along the road and suddenly saw a monastery inthe distance. The monastery stood on a hill, overlooking a river, andit was surrounded by gardens. White walls, green roofs and goldencupolas peeked gaily out from the thick foliage of trees. Throngs ofpilgrims were entering and leaving the monastery. A hushed belltolled from the tower, summoning the faithful to prayer.
"I'll go to the monastery," thought Luka, "holy men live there,they serve the Lord God, they pray and do good deeds, there is nocontention amongst them or bloody battle. I'll go to the monasteryand relax from the lawlessness of the world."
He went to the monastery and entered the church. It was packedwith people. It was quiet and nice in the church, the monks piouslysang the prayers, candles burned, brightly illuminating the icons.The icons glittered with silver, gold and precious stones. The airsmelled of incense. Wonderful!
"It's as fine as heaven here," thought Luka, "I'll stay in themonastery."
After the service he approached the Father Superior and asked,"Permit me, Father, to stay in the monastery. I will do any labor foryou, and perhaps the Lord will reward me with a monkish habit."
Well, the Father Superior allowed it. He was assigned to cleaningcells. Luka was overjoyed and went to his spot without sensing theground under his feet. He only saw two monks sitting in the cornerand arguing heatedly.
"They gave me more money," yelled one of them, "why should I giveit to you!"
"Damned liar, you dog," yelled the other, "you know we alreadyagreed to split things evenly. You cheat! If I got more than you Iwould have shared."
It seemed shameful to Luka that the holy fathers were cursing ateach other. "It doesn't fit them," he thought. And he asked a servantwhat they were arguing about.
"You see, there's this here wonder-working icon, and some relicstoo. Some pilgrims can't push there way through the crowds, so theypass money to the monks so they'll light a candle or put it down.So's these two monks made a deal that one'd take money for icons andthe other'd take it for the relics, and then they'd split iteven-steven. So now ya sees that brother Irenei collect more, and sohe don't want to split it. And brother Germogen got less … Andso they're fighting."
Luka was horrified to hear that the monks were robbing thesanctuary. He stood petrified as the monks argued, argued soviolently that they grabbed each other's beards. LordÐa fightbroke out! Brother Germogen was a bit stronger; he crushed brotherIrenei, took his money and ran. Brother Irenei leapt up, grabbed arock and threw it at brother Germogen, almost breaking his skull. Heswore with all sorts of swear words.
Luka ran to the Father Superior. "Holy Father," he said, "theseare the sorts of things that happen in the monastery." He told himthe whole story.
The Father Superior frowned. "My son," he said, "how can youbother me with such trifles. I'm tired and want to rest … Getout of here!"
Luka left with his head down. "Are such things really consideredtrifles here?"
All the same the Father Superior summoned Irenei and Germogen andchewed them out.
"You idiots," he said, "you know the old saying: steal all youlike, just don't get caught. You're giving the monastery a reputationand driving away the pilgrims. You can die yourselves then fromhunger. Go, idiots, and don't forget that if I hear that you've donesomething like that again, I'll give you a good thrashing! You cantake the money, just don't make a lot of noise about it!"
Irenei andGermogen left the Father Superior very angry. They metLuka and began abusing him. "Hold on," they said, "you so-and-so, ifyou fall into our hands, you watch out! you'll remember it till theend of your days"
Luka went to clean the cells in the evening. The corridor was longand straight, with the cells arranged along both sides. Luka walkedalong the corridor and heard a noise in the cells, by God what anoise! In one there was singing, in another cursing, in a thirdfighting. Luka looked into one cell through a crack in the door andsaw monks and nuns sitting with vodka and snacks on the table. Onemonk holding a guitar was dancing a trepak and singing: "Oh,my sweetheart, how beautiful you are!" The other monks were beltingout the same song. The nuns sat drunk and flushed from the wine.
Luka could only spit.
Early next day Luka went to the church and began praying to themiracle-working icon of the Virgin Mary, asking her to punish theimpious monks and to save him and confirm his faith. There wasn't asoul in the church. Luka prayed ardently to the icon, which wasrenowned in all Russia. It shed tears, healed the sick and worked agreat multitude of miracles.
The Father Superior entered with another monk. They didn't noticeLuka. The Father Superior approached the icon and pushed down on thecandlestick before it.
"What's this, brother Filaret, there aren't any tears on our icon!Is the machine broken?"
"Father Superior, did you push the candlestick good?"
"Good and hard, and still no tears! What a turn of events!"
They took the icon from the wall and began examining it. Luka sawthat the wood had been carved out from behind the eyes, tiny holespoked in the eyes, and a wet sponge and been put in the hole. Thesponge was covered over with a small board, which had a stringconnecting it to the candlestick. When you pushed on the candlestick,the string stretched tight and the board squeezed the sponge, pouringwater from the eyes like tears. And that was the whole mechanism!Seemingly simple, yet a lot of money came to the monks from it. TheFather Superior looked over the icon and saw that the string was weakand couldn't press the sponge, so no tears were flowing.
"It should be fixed," said the Father Superior.
They went to get some string and various tools, and they lockedthe door to keep everyone out. Luka was left alone. "So that's," hesaid, "what sort of wonder-working icon it is! A monkish trick andnothing more! And here I was praying to that painted board!" He spatstraight in the icon's eyes. "Wait," he thought, "I take another lookat the relics."
He went to the holy relics and opened them. He lookedÐa bodylike any other. He touched it, and the body felt a bit hard. When hescratched it, he scratched off a bit of the body. When he looked, itwas wax, pure wax, just painted over. He snapped a finger off theholy man and brought it to the flame: the whole finger melted. Lukaspit on the relics. At that moment the Father Superior and the monkwalked in. Luka barely managed to hide, and they began fixing theicon: string, a hammer, nailsÐthey had brought everything. Theyfinished the work. The Father Superior pushed down on thecandlestick: tears streamed from the icon. "Well now, that's good!"they said. They left the church, but Luka waiting until the servicehad begun to leave with everyone else. He had seen enough of themonastery's holy places!
After that Luka wanted to leave the monastery, but then hethought: "Let's take a look," he said, "how they do those miracles. Achunk of wood, a chunk of wax, how can they heal people? Must be somemechanism again." And so he stayed.
Once he went out for a stroll. He walked along the bank of theriver and saw a monk walking along and gather opaque pebbles.
"What are you doing?" asked Luka.
"Gathering pebbles."
"What do you need them for?"
The monk started laughing. "You're about to find out a lot ofthings," he said, "you'll soon be much older."
So he left without saying anything.
Next day Luka went to the church and saw the same monk sitting bythe doors with a crowd of people around him. Everyone was listeningto him say: "When the Lord Jesus was crucified on Golgotha, hisvirgin Mother stood by him and wept bitter tears. Her purest tearsfell on the dry earth. Here the Lord worked a great miracle: thesetears turned to stone, and they are still on the mount Golgotha tothis day. When I, a sinful monk, was honored to be in the holy cityof Jerusalem, I went to Mount Golgotha and gathered the tears of theHoly Virgin. The tears will preserve you from many sorrows andillnesses … Buy them, pious people!"
The people crossed themselves, and each wanted to take a look atthe wondrous tears. Many bought them for five kopecks, a hefty sum.When Luka looked he saw that the monk was selling the same pebblesthat he had been gathering on the river. "Well," he thought, "sometears. The monks know how to fool the people nicely."
Almost six months passed. The annual celebration of thewonder-working icon came. On that day ten times more people thanusual came to the monastery. A couple days before the holiday Lukahappened to be cleaning the Father Superior's room. Next door theFather was sitting with Filaret, and the door was opened, so thateverything could be heard.
"So," asked Filaret, "what sort of miracle will happen this year?We can't get by without a miracle."
"How can you ask," answered the Father Superior, "of course therewill be a miracle. I've already hired a boy. He'll be possessed.Clever boy, he's so good at being possessed that it's a pleasure towatch!"
"Was he expensive?" asked Filaret.
"Almost for free: ten rubles. After the holidays he's heading offfor Solovki: he can heal himself there. We'll send him thereourselves to make sure that the affair gets sewn shut.
The Father Superior called for the boy, who came in.
"Hey, Senka, let's see you do God's work!" said the FatherSuperior.
Senka strained himself and turned all blue, yelled with a voicenot his own, fell to the ground in contortions. He began foaming atthe mouth, wild cries tore from his chest, his arms and legs writhed.Looking at the boy was horrible.
"Nice job," Filaret praised him.
"Enough, or else you'll tire yourself out," said the FatherSuperior. Senka got up like nothing had happened.
On the day of the celebration, crowds of people flooded to themonastery. They couldn't all fit into the church and stood outside.Senka wandered among the crowds. Suddenly he screamed and began hiscontortions. The people surged back a few steps and begangenuflecting: "Good Lord, what is this?" Senka played his comedy forhalf an hour before getting tired and stopping. And then he said:"Pious folk, my fate is bitter. I never prayed to God, I never gavemoney to the honest monks, and for my sins a demon entered me. Hetorments me sorely. Help me, pious people, is the wonder-working iconnearby? Only she, the holy mother, can save me. I'm not from theseparts and don't know where to find the holy icon."
The worshippers led him into the monastery and told the FatherSuperior. He looked at Senka like he was seeing him for the firsttime, and began the prayer service. And Senka's possession started upagain. He screamed and shouted … Finally the Father Superior andsaid to him: "
"Be gone, impious spirit, from God's slave Simeon. By the almightypower of God I exorcise you!"
As he said it he pressed down on the candlestick. Tears pouredfrom the icon's eyes.
"She took pity, holy mother of God, she took mercy," whispered thepeople. Senka instantly leapt up like he had been healthy forever,and began praying to the icon to thank it for his healing. The peoplefell to their knees and praised God for the great miracle.
Luka couldn't stand it any longer: he stepped forward and said:"Orthodox brethren, the monks put the boy up to pretending to bepossessed! They're duping you. The icons also …"
But here one of the monks threw himself on Luka and shut hismouth. "Silence, blasphemer!" he shouted. Other monks came runningup, tied up Luka and led him off to the cellar. Then they brought himto the authorities. The authorities put him on trial, found himguilty of blasphemy and exiled him to Siberia.
Oh you, the glorious Vladimir highway! You twist for manyversts, long and broad, and you lead straight from motherRussia to stepmother Siberia. The Vladimir highway has been beatendown and trampled, and dust floats above it like a fog. The road istrampled by the feet of convicts, but the dust is lifted bygovernment-issue boots. So much grief passes along that gloriousroad, so many tears pour out upon it, so many moans and curses areheard on it … The unfortunate go along it day and night in theirleg irons, under guard; countless many of them go, and they will begoing for long still … Pious folk , does the merciful Lord trulynot see these burning tears, does he not hear the pitiful moans andwill be not be merciful to these "unfortunates?"
A group of convicts walks quietly along the road, the convictsrattle their chains, and the soldiers' rifles gleam … The groupapproached the very end of Mother Russia. A tall pillar stood there,and on that pillar was a plaque: on one side "Russia," on the other"Siberia." There ended Mother Russia! Howls and moans rose up fromthe "unfortunates," everyone was wailing, saying farewell to theirhomeland, they kissed the earth, chanting: "Farewell, farewell, ourmother: you nourished us, fostered us and raised us, but these evilmen wouldn't allow us good fortune, and we misfortunates are nowheading for cursed Siberia, to hard labor, to a joyless life!"
Only one convict did not cry, did not sob, did not bid hishomeland farewell! He stood silently, crestfallen, his eagle eyesgrew dim, and his black thoughts were sad … That was Ivan, theelder brother, thinking about his beloved brothers.
A column of dust twisted up over the road in the distance: thatwas a second group of "unfortunates." The convicts rattled theirchains, and the soldiers shook their rifles. Among the unfortunateswent Stepan, the middle brother, thin, pale, exhausted, bound up inchains, with a brand on his forehead … The new group approached,and it stopped to rest with the other. The brothers saw each otherand burst out in tears. They began telling about their adventures,and their convict tales were sad.
"Life in the north is good," said the elder brother, "life is goodfor the rich, life is good for the landowner, life is good for thefactory owner … But there's no place for the poor! They're heldin cabal bondage by the rich, they go about in ragged clothing, andGod alone knows what they eat and drink … There's no place forthe poor in the north!"
"There's no place for the poor in the south," said Stepan, themiddle brother.
Again a column of dust rose over the highway: a third group ofconvicts was walking, among them Demian, rattling his chains. The newgroup walked up and the brothers threw themselves around each others'necks, wailing and telling each other of their adventures. Demiantold his brothers: "There's no place for the poor in the east." Thebrothers sank crestfallen into thought at this point. "Where is therea place for the poor?" they thought. And then they saw: a new groupwas coming, and in that group was Luka, the youngest brother …And Luka told his brothers: "There's no place for the poor in thewest!"
Their thoughts grew even sadder, and only the elder brother didnot give in to sadness, he said this smart thing: "So, brothers,"said Ivan, "it seems that there's no place for the poor, it seemsthat the rich have taken all the places. We've covered all MotherRussia, and we saw the same thing everywhere: the rich plunder thepoor, the people are crushed by the village bloodsuckers, and thenobles, and the factory owners and masters! They hold the workingpeople in bondage, strip them of the last thread, and then they puffthemselves up and fool the stupid muzhiks. And the authoritiesand the tsar only think about their own good and don't care about thepoor, they only stand up for the rich, defend the cruel robbers andthey wrote up such laws for themselves to tie the poor up hand andfoot and hand them over to the robbers … And the people! Yourheart moans when you think how obediently their bear theiroppression, they submit to all sorts of scum and don't recognizetheir own strength. The people are stupid, dear brothers, the piousfolk are cowards, and they slumber in eternal sleep, like theenchanted knight in the tale. Like tiny lice and bedbugs, the villagebloodsuckers suck them dry, but the people are asleep and don't feela thing … But still, dear brothers, the end of this lawlessnessis coming. The terrible hour will strike, the people will awake, theywill feel their mighty power, their unconquerable strength, and thenthey will crush their plunderers, their merciless tormentors, theywill shed rivers of blood in their anger and take brutal vengeance ontheir tyrants … The tsar with his ministers and boyars,the factory and land owners, the two-faced monks and tormentors ofthe peopleÐall will receive retribution for their terrible sins,the people will wipe them all from the face of the earth and thenlift off the fat of the land.
"Oh, that will be a happy time, when there will be no evil onearth, no falsehood, no oppression and no violence. The fertilemother earth, the ancient sleeping forests, and the greenmeadowÐand this will belong to the peasants. In the cities, allthe factories will become the property of the workers … And thenthere will be no tsar, no landowners, no masters, no bosses, nobodywill be drafted as soldiers, nobody will demand taxes, nobody will beexiled to Siberia. And the free peasants and workers will live inplenitude and joy, without constraint, in full freedom …
"Oh, my dear brothers, are we really going to a Siberian prison,are we really going to work for the state treasury? No cell can holda mighty eagle, no prison can hold brave fellow! We will escape toMother Russia, brothers, we will go awake the pious people. Arise,arise honest peasants, abandon your foolish timidity, feel yourmighty power. Arise, pious people, like the wrath of God, and destroyyou enemies!"
And right then and there the brothers forgot their grief, and thenbegan to sing a hearty song … They contrived an opportunity onthe first night and escaped from the guards to freedom.
From that time on they walk the Russian land, they wake uppeasants everywhere and call them to the bloody feast. They travel inthe south, in the north, in the east, in the west, nobody knows them,but all heed their powerful voices. Peasants draw strength from theirvoices, they lift their lowered heads, their blood boils and they areready to fight for their freedom, for their land and for the benefitof peasants. And when they have enlightened all peasants, MotherRussia will hum and roar, as if the blue sea had risen and inundatedall their cruel enemies with its powerful waves.