The fortunes of man are often very strange. He frequently passes through long, barren, unemployed years, awaiting the one moment which brings into relief and into activity all his faculties and all his powers; it seems as though he had slept an age in order to awaken for one hour. A new situation arouses in him unknown sentiments, enlightens his mind, opens his heart, and changes the indolent dreamer into a worker, an indefatigable athlete.
Thus it happened to Iermola, whom the mere presence of this unknown child had regenerated and revived, and who, to the great astonishment of the widow, the people of the village, and all who had formerly known him, not only acquitted himself without difficulty of the care necessary to be bestowed upon his nursling, but became quite another man. He always had been considered one of the most good-for-nothing and insignificant beings in the world, silent, humble, timid, and ignorant. People had become accustomed to see him every day at the same hour in the vicinity of the ruined inn, and to hear the same words of greeting repeated by him every day. With his bowed head and stooping shoulders, and his eyes fixed on the ground, and leaning on a cane, he might be constantly seen, now on his way to the river shore, and now going toward the dwor; he gathered grasses, kindling-wood, and fagots, and cultivated in his garden a little tobacco and a few vegetables. On fine summer evenings he repeated his chaplet sitting on his door-sill, and sometimes, when his complete isolation did not weigh too heavily upon him, he allowed several months to pass without appearing in the village. He never went to the inn, never showed himself at weddings, funerals, or baptisms; and when he went to them because he was invited, he stayed only a very short time, and was in a hurry to return to his den, where he squatted down and secluded himself as though there was some sad mystery attached to his life.
Moreover, he visited at none of the houses in the village with the exception of the widow's hut, whither he was drawn by memories of old friendship and also the need of assistance, for there he had his linen washed and mended, and took some of his meals. Some said that he was sulky and cross; but those who knew him best rarely spoke of him otherwise than in terms of kindest friendship. And indeed under his cold, rough exterior was concealed a rare heart, a heart of gold, one of those hearts to be met with among the poor and simple more often than one believes.
Nowadays a goodly number of thinkers interested in such matters, and who judge quite erroneously, have succeeded in discovering in the peasant far more bad qualities than good ones. But considering the influences to which the lower classes are subjected, the examples they have before them, their surroundings, the poverty which enervates them, and the want of moral education which brutalizes them, one can only be astonished at the treasures of honesty which God puts into their hearts.
Under such a condition as theirs, the greatest faults are pardonable; for which of our reformers proposes to inculcate either moral or religious principles? Therefore the virtues they possess really seem miraculous. In order to know the lower classes, it is necessary to observe them closely, and to study them, and not allow ourselves to be led astray by the prejudices and false ideas which we may have imbibed from the speeches of interested persons and from books. Virtue, with them, is the more to be respected, because it is indigenous, like pure native gold. As for us, we are inoculated with it; it is preached to us, taught us from our infancy. It is very easy for us to be honest. Our own interest, our self-love, the aid which circumstances give us, the advantageous emulation with which the social struggle inspires us, our conception of duty,--all help to clear the way for us; and in spite of this, all are not virtuous, or at least as virtuous as they ought to be. It is not at all astonishing, therefore, considering all that we have on our side, and all that makes against the lower classes, that good, equitable, and strict judges have discerned more worth and virtue in the lower than in the higher classes, and have invited the fortunate ones of this world to follow the example which by a sort of miracle is presented by those who enjoy fewer comforts.
We, who are in constant and active communication with our country people, do not hesitate to recognize that they are better by nature and by instinct than the people in other classes of society, than the people of other European races, especially the Western races. Let us examine, compare, and number their vices; and we shall be astonished to find still so much morality among a populace so miserable and entirely abandoned, who must have received the strength to be virtuous simply from the air which surrounds them, from the blood which flows in their veins. It is easy for us to understand and excuse their faults if we will only be just.
Iermola was precisely one of those men, gifted with a marvellous instinct of virtue and feelings naturally affectionate and just, whose nobleness servitude had not been able to stifle, possessing a heart which coarse and imperfect civilization had not been able to make cold, and earnest moral strength which old age had not withered or destroyed. I can find no other word than "instinct" to express that rare and powerful faculty; and I would willingly admit, if I were writing a treatise on psychology, that by the side of the coarse, egotistical, material instinct exists a second one, noble, generous, sublime, different in every respect from the other, which elevates often to the highest plane of virtue the weakest and simplest natures. Those who possess it usually act contrary to their most evident interests; they listen only to their hearts, which never breathe the voice of violence and passion, but rather that of pure love, which longs for perfection, and action, which reveals the need of devotion and tenderness.
The old man of whom we are speaking never had deplored the miseries of his useless and suffering life. He never had cursed his past; he neither scorned nor complained of men. He found a sufficiency in himself, suffered, was silent, and did not succumb, because he accepted everything with a humble and thankful spirit. No one ever saw him spare himself; he was always ready to help others, though he could do but little for himself. Every one knew him in the village; and strangers, as well as old friends, knew to whom to apply when they needed help or sympathy,--for poor old Iermola had nothing else to give. To watch and care for a sick person, to harvest a widow's field of barley, to take care of a houseful of children when the mother of the family was away, to collect herbs and recipes for curing wounds and diseases, were the things that Iermola knew how to do best, and that he did with most pleasure. People made use of him the more willingly because he would not accept any pay, and because he never drank brandy.
Among the lower classes it is customary in such cases to recognize by some gift or other even the smallest service rendered; the good villagers would be offended if these slight marks of their gratitude should not be accepted. They therefore slipped into Iermola's hands a few presents which he took, lest he should wound his friends; some eggs, a little butter, a small loaf of bread, seemed to him more than sufficient return for his services.
He bore no grudge against those of his old friends whom he had obliged, who in times of sickness and need had come to him for help, and afterward deserted and forgotten him. He never complained of their indifference, never called their neglect ingratitude or coldness of heart; he knew the villagers had but little time at their disposal in which to pay debts of affection or gratitude; that generally it was not the will which was wanting, but the possibility; and their indifference was often feigned and very frequently forced. It is necessary to know thoroughly their life of labour and weariness, to feel the effect of fatigue and its consequent lassitude, in order to comprehend it and not be surprised by it. And if with regard to matters of the heart Iermola was superior to his neighbours, in other respects he was still a child of the village, retaining its tastes, habits, inclinations, and prejudices.