[2 ] This belief is far from uncommon.
CHAPTER XI
A WITCH! A WITCH!
In this year of grace, close to the end of the nineteenth century, many of the villages in the Tsar's dominions are almost up to date in the science of cholera-fighting, thanks to the energy of the Zemstvo, which is a species of County Council. They set apart, some of them, a hut or house as a hospital for suspicious cases; the villagers occasionally boil their drinking water; they drink their vodka—well, perhaps the merest trifle more discreetly, in times of scare, than in the piping days of health and security. I would not go so far as to say that they waste much water in personal ablutions, because I wish my readers to take me seriously; and as for the drainage and sanitation of the villages, there is none from end to end of the realm.
Nevertheless, matters are very much more satisfactory now than was the case forty or fifty years ago; when, at the appearance of the terrible scourge of cholera, most of the inhabitants at once gave themselves up for lost, and, resolving to make the most of the short time remaining to them for indulgence in the pleasures of terrestrial existence, drank themselves into alcoholic coma every day, until the disease fastened itself upon their vodka-sodden bodies, and carried them away where no vodka is to be had for love or money.
Tirnova, in the government of Vologda, was one of the villages most sorely attacked by the cholera-fiend during the outbreak of 1861.
The peasants of this village had many and many a time received good advice from the priest of the nearest parish village, Shishkina, who, being a man of sense, had recommended them, before the outbreak (having driven over on purpose to warn them), to do their best to stave off the threatened attack of "the plague," as they called it, by prayer and personal cleanliness. But since the cholera had not as yet made its appearance in the place it was clearly unnecessary, the peasants decided, to put themselves out, and no notice was taken of the priest's warning. Now, however, that the plague had come, a deputation headed by the starost, or head-peasant, waited upon the priest in order to receive further counsel, for, as a matter of fact, they had forgotten all he told them. "Fools that you are and sons of dogs," said the good man, who well knew how the moujik must be addressed if it is desired that he should listen, "did I not tell you long ago to pray to the Almighty, first; and secondly, to clean your filthy houses and your own bodies with soap and hot water? Go home, and pray and wash!" At this, all present removed their caps and scratched their heads, implying thereby that there was a difficulty still unexplained.
"If," said the starost, stepping out to speak, "if it be the will of the Almighty that cholera should visit our village, then surely it would be impious to do anything, such as the cleansing of our houses, to keep it off? We can pray, of course, that it may please the Almighty to modify His will in this matter, and, no doubt, your reverence would come over with the large and holy ikon of St. Luke the Physician, with whom for intercessor we might hold a solemn procession; but——"
"Did not I tell you you were a set of brainless idiots?" said the priest; "the saints only help those who help themselves. Pray, by all means; but when you have done praying, go out and wash yourselves, and your clothes, and your houses; and don't afterwards drink yourselves into the likeness of swine at the beer-house—oh, it's no use wagging your head at me, Matvéi Stepanitch; I know you well enough! There, that's my advice; now go!"
"And the ikon?" said the moujiks, giving their matted locks a final scratching before departure.