THE FOLK-LORE OF THE MOUJIK
The Russian peasant, or moujik, is an individual who has never
received his fair share of respect and admiration from us in this
country. We know all about his faults: his laziness, his drunkenness,
his uncleanliness, his superstition, his persistent wanderings from
the narrow ways of truth and honesty; but few of us are prepared to
concede to him certain excellent qualities which he undoubtedly
possesses: strong religious feeling, unquestioning obedience towards
those in authority over him, filial love and reverence towards his
father, the Tsar, devotion to his country, reverence for age, the most
pious veneration for the memory of his fathers; patience, docility,
courage, strangely developed humour, hospitality, and a host of
virtues and lovable qualities which only those who know him intimately
are able to detect and appreciate.
In the matter of their belief in and dealings with those Beings with
which they have peopled the spiritual world, the Slavs are probably
the most superstitious of all the European families, or at least they
have clung with more pertinacity than any of their neighbours to the
old-world traditions and beliefs which were the common property,
centuries ago, of all. During these centuries the Church, hand-in-hand
with education and civilisation, has done its best to stamp out and
destroy the innumerable relics of purely Pagan and Christianised Pagan
traditions which abound in the country; but neither priest nor
schoolmaster, nor yet the common-sense of the community, have made
much appreciable headway against the ineradicable superstition of the
Russian moujik:--and the air, the forests, the waters, the very houses
are as full of their spiritual inhabitants to-day as they ever were in
the days when men looked to the elements and the forces of nature for
the gods whom they must worship, and before whose irresistible power
they realised their own insignificance. When St. Vladimir, in the zeal
of his recent conversion to Christianity, cast into the waters of the
Dnieper at Kief the huge wooden, silver-headed, golden-bearded idol of
Perun the Thunderer, and in baptizing his twelve sons set an example
which was quickly followed by the rest of the population of his grand
duchy, he was very far from convincing his people that thunderings in
the future were to be regarded as merely impersonal manifestations of
the forces of nature. It might not be Perun who thundered, they
argued--and since Perun had gone to the bottom of the Dnieper this was
probably the case--but if it were not Perun it clearly must be some
one else, for the thunder could not roar by itself! Elijah fitted into
the gap very neatly. Did not the Church teach that Elijah the prophet
went up in a chariot to heaven? The thundering then was undoubtedly
the rumbling of Elijah's chariot-wheels, and that, to this day, is the
explanation which any Russian peasant will give if asked to account
for the noise of the thunder. This is one of many examples of the
manner in which Pagan beliefs have survived in Christianised forms. In
certain parts of Russia, however, even the name of Perun or Perkun is
still preserved in connection with the roar of the thunder. When the
familiar rumbling and crashing noise is heard overhead, the peasants
in some of the Baltic provinces still remark, "There is Perun
thundering again!"
Hand-in-hand with the worship, in Russian Pagan days, of the elements
and the forces of nature, went the adoration of the dead; and while
Perun and his fellow deities of that age have practically become
extinct, or have been Christianised out of all recognition, the
superstitious regard of the Russian peasant for the spirits of his
departed ancestors has withstood the attacks of time as well as the
teachings of Christianity, and is as marked now in some of the remoter
districts of the empire as it ever was in the days of heathenism.
Sometimes it is actually the spirits of the _rodítyelui_, or
forefathers, themselves, who are cherished and invoked by the
peasants; sometimes the _rodítyelui_ have become merged in the
personality of the _domovoy_, or house-spirit, of whom I shall
presently have much to say. It is a comparatively common belief that
the soul, after leaving the body, remains for a period of six weeks
about the house, or at all events in the neighbourhood of its old
home, watching the mourning of its relatives, and seeing that its
memory is receiving at their hands fitting veneration. During the time
that the body remains in the house the soul sits upon the upper
portion of the coffin. As it has a long journey to perform before
reaching its final home, money is frequently placed in the coffin in
order that the departed spirit may be enabled to defray possible
charges for being ferried across rivers and seas; food is also
provided, to sustain the _rodítyel_ upon his way, together with small
ladders made of dough, in seven rungs, for scaling the seven heavens.
In case the steep should be slippery and difficult to climb, the
parings from the nails of the dead man, if these should have been cut
shortly before death, are placed close to the folded hands--the talons
of some bird of prey being occasionally added, in order to render the
business of climbing as easy as possible to the traveller. The coffin
itself is sometimes made in the shape of a boat, in order that if
Charon or his representative should refuse to convey the traveller
across the dark river, or should charge an exorbitant price for so
doing, the latter may be independent of the services of the ferryman.
All these ancient customs are observed in the letter in many of the
remoter villages throughout the empire; but it is doubtful whether the
significance of the observances is realised by the peasants who thus
perpetuate the ancient traditional customs of their forefathers, as
handed down to them, probably, without explanation. It is certain that
the belief is very general that numbers of _rodítyelui_, _i.e._, the
spirits of the fathers of the family, still reside in and watch over
the establishments of their posterity not yet quit of the infirmities
of the flesh. These spirits are supposed to have their abode in the
wall behind the _ikon_, and food for their use is occasionally placed
on certain days close to the holy picture. The spirits may, very
rarely, be seen in the form of a fly, sipping sugar-water or honey
from a plate; or in the guise of a sparrow or other small bird,
gobbling up crumbs upon the window-sill. In the case of a witch, the
soul may occasionally take an airing during the lifetime of the hag,
choosing the time when the latter is asleep to assume the form of a
moth, which issues from the mouth of the witch and flutters about the
room. This offers an excellent opportunity to get rid of the _vyedma_
altogether. To this end all that has to be done is to conceal the
mouth of the hag, so that the moth, when it returns to the body,
cannot find its way home again. Repulsed in this fashion, the
moth-soul easily becomes discouraged, and giving up the idea of
returning to its prison-house, flies out of the window and disappears,
and the witch is no more. It should be mentioned with regard to the
_rodítyelui_ who live behind the _ikon_, that when the time approaches
for a member of the family to be gathered to his fathers the spirits
gently tap-tap within the wall, as a signal to the living members of
the household that it is necessary for one of them to come and join
his friends behind the _ikon_. This is, of course, the "death-watch,"
as we know it: and the wonder is that the entire household does not
succumb to the terror which must be caused to a family in which the
little tapping creature responsible for these summonses to the next
world may have taken up its abode.
As for the _domovoy_, or house-spirit, it seems uncertain whether this
strongly marked individuality is the embodiment, in one person, of
the entire company of the _rodítyelui_, or a separate and distinct
personality. He is named, together with the spirits of the air, water,
and forests, as one of those who accompanied the evil one on the
expulsion of the latter from heaven, and as such he would appear to be
a distinct individual. But, on the other hand, there exist certain
ceremonies in connection with the _domovoy_, and to which I shall
refer again later on, which seem to associate him with the spirits of
the departed. However this may be, it is quite certain that the
_domovoy_ is a recognised and permanent inhabitant of every peasant
household throughout Russia, and it is doubtful whether there exists
from end to end of the realm a single such household which would
venture to express a doubt of his personal existence among them.
Nevertheless, he is rarely seen, though his appearance is accurately
known according to the particular notions with regard to that
appearance as held in the different portions of the empire. In these
he is variously described as a tiny old man--he is always a man, not a
woman, and always old--no larger than a five-year-old child; as very
tall and large; as having long hair; as hairy all over, even to the
palms of his hands and the soles of his feet; and as having the
extremely disagreeable habit of passing his hands over the faces of
sleepers. If his touch is soft and warm all will go well for some time
with the establishment over which he presides; but if, on the
contrary, his hand is cold, like ice, and rough to the touch, then woe
will betide the sleeper or his household in the near future. The
_domovoy_ lives within the _pechka_, or stove, and is, when properly
treated, benignantly disposed towards the members of his own
particular family, protecting these from all harm and from the evil
machinations of the neighbours, with whose _domovoys_ he is always at
enmity, quarrels between himself and these latter being of very
frequent occurrence, and resulting in great damage to the crockery and
other wreckable property of both establishments. The natural
consequence of this rivalry between the guardian spirits of
neighbouring families is that the reputation of the _domovoy_ outside
his own family circle is always very bad; for only one's own _domovoy_
is admittedly a benevolent spirit, every one else's is a demon. Thus
the _domovoy_ presents the unusual spectacle of a being who is an
angel at home and a devil out of doors, in direct contradistinction to
members of the human race, who are, as I have been informed,
frequently angelic in the presence of strangers, though quite "the
other thing" at home.
But in spite of this zeal on behalf of his own folks--zeal which so
sadly often gets him into trouble with the neighbours--the _domovoy_
must be kept in good humour by the members of his own family, or he is
liable to show in whose company he was obliged to hurriedly leave
the Realms of Light, which are asserted to have been his original
habitation--in other words, he may become mischievous and troublesome
even at home. At such times he will take to throwing the furniture
about during the night, breaking the crockery, ill-treating the
domestic pets, and so on. Under these circumstances it is best to be
bold and upbraid the invisible offender loudly, when he will generally
recognise the error of his ways, and desist, on the following night,
from throwing the dog and the tea-cups about: he is generous enough to
cherish no malice or ill-will against those who have thus been
courageous enough to remonstrate with him, which proves that the
_domovoy_, in spite of his antecedents, is more or less in a state of
grace. The tastes and peculiarities of the _domovoy_ may with
advantage be studied by those desirous of ingratiating themselves with
him. Especially in the matter of the colouring of his surroundings it
is easy and well worth while to study his idiosyncrasies, and to carry
out his ideas in this respect by adapting the hue of the feathered and
furred animals about the establishment to his known tastes in that
direction. The way to find out the favourite colour of the _domovoy_
is so very simple that it would be almost an insult to the guardian
spirit to neglect to pay him this little compliment. All that need be
done is to hang a small piece of meat by a string to a nail and to
leave it (well out of range of the family nose, let us hope), for a
month. At the expiration of that period it will be found to be covered
with maggots, and the colour of these maggots is the favourite tint of
the _domovoy_. If the cows and the horses, the cocks and the hens, are
not of the particular colour indicated by the above test, they had
better be sold at once, and others bought which correspond with the
ideas of the _domovoy_ in this respect.
The ceremony to be performed by a peasant family removing from one
house to another is full of significance, and is, or was, universally
recognised as a most important function. In this ceremony there seems
to occur that confusion between the _domovoy_ and the spirits of the
departed to which I have already made allusion in the course of this
chapter. The whole function centres in the stove, or rather in the
embers burning within it. When the family have packed up and are ready
to go, the old grandmother, if there be one, or the oldest woman of
the establishment, carefully rakes up the red-hot embers still glowing
within the stove at the moment of departure, depositing these in a pan
which is then quickly covered up. That these embers are supposed to be
in some way connected with the spirits of the departed is evident,
because the tradition specially enjoins that the greatest care must be
observed lest any of them slip through the aperture and into the
grate; for if this calamity should happen, it would signify that
certain of the _rodítyelui_ had slipped through the barrier and fallen
into the fires of hell. When the whole of the glowing coals have been
raked out and collected, the old woman carries the pan across to the
new house, chanting over and over again as she goes, the words,
"Welcome, little grandsire, to the new home." Arrived at the house,
the old woman knocks three times upon the wall, and is admitted. The
whole family have assembled meanwhile and are ready to greet the old
woman and her pan and embers. "Welcome, little grandsire, to the new
home" is the cry, repeated over and over again, while the embers are
taken out one by one, and placed, still alight, within the new stove.
Thus the _rodítyelui_ perform their "flitting," after which they are
as much at home in the new abode as they were in the old haunts. I
should mention, before leaving the subject, that previously to the
occupation of a new house, a cock and hen are let loose in the living
room, which is not entered until after the cock has crowed. No evil
spirit can bear to hear a cock crow, and the rite is doubtless
performed with a view to ridding the house of any evil spirits which
may have previously taken possession of the edifice. _Domovoys_ do not
object to the crowing of cocks--another proof that the _domovoy_ is in
a state of grace.
Holy Church has stepped in and substituted for the ceremonies which I
have just described, special services for those about to occupy new
premises, and these Christian functions now largely take the place of
the Pagan rites; but the change of ceremony has not dethroned either
the _domovoy_ or the _rodítyelui_, who still reign, and will doubtless
reign for the next thousand years, over the imagination of Ivan
Ivanovitch, as the personal and permanent and undoubted guests and
guardians of his establishment. There is a special _domovoy_ in charge
of the bath-house which forms a feature in every Russian village. This
_domovoy_ has a strong objection to the villagers bathing themselves
late at night, specially if they do so without having first prayed
aloud. It is not very clear what form his displeasure takes when his
wishes in this connection are disregarded; but it is known that he
dislikes the practice of late bathing. Probably it keeps him up.
However, if the moujik be impious enough to disregard his objections
and to take a bath at an unseasonable hour of the night, when all good
moujiks, and _banniks_ also, should be asleep, a can of warm water and
a birch-rod-swisher should be left by the untimely "ablutioner" in
propitiation of the _bannik_ (who is the _domovoy_ of the bath-house)
thus kept from his rest by the thoughtless and unselfish conduct of
the former. Whether the _bannik_ ever utilises the opportunity thus
offered him of enjoying a comfortable scrub, tradition does not say.
If the bath _domovoy_ is a good Russian, and has imbibed anything of
the nature of the moujik during his long connection with that
unsavoury member of society, probably he does _not_ use the warm water
and the swish; for he will not wash himself unless he is forced to do
so by circumstances over which he has no control, such as popular
opinion, or the customs or the bye-laws of the village in which he has
his habitation.
I have already mentioned that when the Prince of the Spirits of Evil
descended from the abode of light and took up his dwelling in the
realms of darkness, which are his habitation to this very hour, there
accompanied him certain other spirits, inferiors and followers. Among
these, according to Slavonic folk-lore, were the _vodyánnuie_, or
water-spirits; the _vozdúshnuie_, or spirits of the air; and the
_liéshuie_, or wood-demons. There were many others in his train--such
as the _karliki_, or gnomes--beings of little or no interest in the
everyday life of the peasant because they rarely interfere in human
affairs, if they can avoid it, and have no special connection with
humanity; whereas the _domovuie_, as I have shown, and the water and
wood spirits, as I intend now to describe, are constantly in contact
with members of our race, either for good or for evil. Many of the
followers of the Chief demon accompanied their leader into his new
home and there remain with him to this day; but it will be better to
leave these bad characters where they are, and to concern ourselves
solely with those whom common interests have brought into connection
with our race. The spirits which I have named did indeed accompany
their former leader as far as the portals of his new realm, the nether
regions; but they did not actually enter its confines, or if they did
do so, did not stay longer than just so much time as was required to
arrive at the conclusion that the atmosphere of the place was not such
as to suit their private ideas of comfort--which did not take them
long--after which they quickly turned their backs upon the front gates
and made off as rapidly as possible; the _liéshuie_ hiding themselves
in the forests, the _karliki_ burying themselves in the earth, while
the _vozdúshnuie_ remained in the cool air--finding it refreshing
after the heated atmosphere to which they had been lately introduced;
and the _vodyánnuie_, who had perhaps stayed a moment or two longer
beside their chief, or who were possibly more sensitive to the
discomfort of a warm temperature, plunged headlong into the water
in order to cool their parched frames, and have remained in the
pleasant depths ever since--taking over the management of all springs
and rivers and pools upon the surface of the dry land. These same
_vodyánnuie_ are a tricky race of beings and require much propitiation
at the hands of millers, fishermen, and others who have dealings with
them or with the waters within their jurisdiction. Millers, especially,
require to be careful to keep in touch with the _vodyánnuie_; for each
mill-race possesses its own particular water-spirit, and the miller
will have no luck, and deserve none, if he does not cast into the race
at least one black pig per annum as a gift to the spirit which has its
habitation in his waters. The ordinary annual offering to the
water-spirits is, however, a horse, whose legs have been previously
tied together with red ribbons, and who has been smeared for the
sacrifice with honey. A heavy stone is attached to the unfortunate
animal's neck and he is thrown into a deep pool. The _vodyánnuie_, who
have in all probability shown their displeasure for some time before
the sacrifice by causing the river to overflow its banks, or the ice
to carry away the bridge, having now received their rights as by
custom established, at once settle down in peace and quietness for a
whole year. But they are, as I have said, a tricky lot, and they must
not be depended upon by bathers, or by peasants who would fain cool
their horses' heated flanks in the deep pool after a hard day of work
in the fields. The _vodyánnui_ of the place may be of a malicious
disposition, and though everything may have been done in order to
secure his benevolent neutrality towards bathers, yet he is just as
likely as not to pull down by the leg his very warmest admirer, or the
horse of his most sincere follower.
Here, again, the Church, anxious to substitute for the Pagan observances
which I have mentioned in connection with the _vodyánnuie_ her own
orthodox functions, has ordained for the use of the faithful solemn
services for the "blessing of the waters." These services are now
performed twice each year all over Russia, and have largely ousted
the ancient rites and sacrifices which were considered necessary in
honour, or in propitiation of the water-spirits; but though the
sacrificial observances are discontinued, the belief in the existence
of the _vodyánnuie_, as active and malevolent beings whose
dwelling-place is in the pools and streams, still retains its hold
upon the minds of the people with much of its ancient intensity.
Before quitting the subject of water-spirits, I should mention that
the nymphs and mermaids of our own and universal folk-lore are
represented in that of the Slavs by beings known as _rusalki_, an
entirely distinct species from the surly and malicious _vodyánnuie_.
The latter are of the male sex, while the _rusalki_ are all females,
and frequently very beautiful. They employ their good looks
unfortunately to the ruin of our race, too frequently luring young men
to their doom, by enticing them into the deep waters and there either
tickling them to death or else drowning them; for the _rusalki_ are of
a mischievous and frivolous nature and have very little good feeling
about them. Many of the _rusalki_ are supposed to be the spirits of
stillborn or of unbaptized children, or of women who have committed
suicide or who have been for some other reason deprived of the
privilege of Christian burial. When a child dies unbaptized, its
spirit is said to wander through the world for seven years, longing
and entreating to be baptized. If any person sufficiently pure in
spirit to discern the pleading soul-voice has the presence of mind, on
hearing it, to pronounce the words, "I baptize thee in the Name of
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," then the forlorn soul is
satisfied and flits away to Paradise; but if the seven years go by and
the soul remains unbaptized, it becomes a _rusalka_. Annual prayers
are offered in Russian churches for the unbaptized, and if the
wandering spirit is fortunate enough to be close at hand and to
overhear the words of the priest during one of these services, its
object is attained: it is considered to have come within actual range
of the working of the baptismal rite, and Paradise is won for that
soul. There are some who believe that the spirits of the unbaptized,
in their wanderings through the world, assume the form of a cuckoo;
and these make a point for this reason of baptizing every cuckoo they
hear, or even of performing the rite in effigy if no living cuckoo
should be available. The fishermen of the Caspian have a pretty legend
with regard to the _rusalki_. They declare that these water-maidens
are frequently greatly troubled as to the nature of the future state
and their own probable destiny therein. The mermaids, to give them a
familiar name, are represented as occasionally appearing at the
surface of the water to inquire whether the fishermen can tell them
whether the end of the world is still far off?
The _rusalki_ vary in size, as do all the spirit forms of Russian
folk-lore. Sometimes they are spoken of as tiny beings floating in the
cup of the water-lily; sometimes as huge female forms which haunt the
cornfields and steal the grain of the peasants. When caught thus
misbehaving themselves the _rusalki_ are punished in effigy, straw
figures, representing the robbers, being tossed about by companies of
girls, who eventually cast them into the water. When this has been
done the cornfield is safe from further plunderings at the hands of
the beautiful but dishonest water-maidens.
The _vozdúshnuie_, or spirits of the air, have but little to do with
man, their realm being outside his usual "beat." There are no doubt as
many spirits dwelling in the air as inhabit the waters, woods, and
houses, but until man shall have taken to journeying in balloons or
shall have mastered the science of flying, it is probable that he will
not be molested to any great extent by this branch of the spirit
family. I will therefore pass on to consider the wood-goblins, whom I
have left until the last, because, with the sole exception of the
_domovoy_, the _liéshui_ is by far the most important of the spirits
who engage in dealings with mankind, as well as the most picturesque.
In a country whose woods and forests cover thousands of miles of
territory, it is only natural that the spirits whose home is in the
fastnesses of those pine-grown regions should play a great part in the
imagination of a poetic and superstitious people living beneath the
shadow of the pine trees. The _liéshuie_ are, without doubt, by nature
evil spirits, or demons; but, like their brethren of the waters and of
the air, they may be propitiated by the observance of certain rites
and ceremonies, and by this means rendered friendly or at least
neutral towards those who are desirous of living in their good
graces--a most necessary condition of existence for those whose flocks
and herds wander day-long in the wilds and moors and woodlands of the
interior of Russia. The _liéshui_ is, in the estimation of his friend
Ivan Ivanovitch, a shocking bad character. He is generally an old man,
very hairy and wild in appearance, as might be expected. He is a
terrible drunkard, and is frequently quite incapacitated and helpless
after his bacchanalian excesses; on such occasions he is watched over
and protected from the assaults of his enemies by his chief friend and
henchman, the bear. But not only is he a drunkard, he is equally a
slave to another vice, the indulgence of which seems to strike one as
unexpectedly sophisticated in a denizen of the forest: he is a gambler
and a card-player, speculating to a tremendous extent, and staking all
his possessions frequently enough at a single _coup_. When the village
_ochotnik_, or sportsman, finds to his annoyance that the hares, the
blackcock, or the tree partridges within his district have become so
scarce that it is no longer worth his while to tramp the woods after
them, the apparently unaccountable circumstance is plain enough to his
enlightened intelligence: the _liéshui_ of the place has gambled them
away to his next-door neighbour. The same explanation accounts for the
migration of squirrels and birds from one part of the country to
another--they are in the act of going over to swell the possessions of
the fortunate _liéshui_ who has won them from their former owner. I
should mention, however, that clubs are never used in the packs of
cards with which the _liéshuie_ carry on their games of speculation,
since these, to a certain extent, resemble the shape of a cross, an
emblem which neither wood-goblins, nor any other evil spirit dares to
look upon. But besides these gamblings with one another, and perhaps
as the outcome of these very transactions and the ill-feeling and bad
blood which operations of this kind so frequently engender, terrific
encounters occasionally take place between the rival _liéshuie_ of a
district, when the forest is devastated for hundreds of yards around,
the pines lying prone and uprooted in every conceivable position and
in every direction, just as though a hurricane of wind had passed by
and torn them up, hurling them right and left as it went. Many a time
have I encountered such a scene of desolation in mid-forest, and have
found the greatest difficulty in forcing a way through the chaos
formed by this _lom_, as it is called. Ignorant as I was in those days
of the true origin of these patches of devastation, I used fondly to
imagine that the ruin I saw had indeed been wrought by the agency of
the tempest, though it was always a puzzle to me to account for the
limited sphere in which the whirlwind had conducted its destructive
operations; the theory of a wood-goblin duel, of course, satisfactorily
accounts for the circumstance. When a _liéshui_ marries--for he does
take to himself a wife in his own good time--his bridal feasts and
processions create terrible disorder in the forest; birds and beasts
rush frightened and screaming from the neighbourhood, trees are
knocked down and strewn about the ground, and the place becomes a
pandemonium. It is not very apparent whom this unprincipled goblin
finds to marry him. Perhaps the Erl-King has an unlimited supply of
those deceitful daughters of his! The peasants naturally have much to
do with the spirits whose habitation is in the forests which surround
their dwellings, for their flocks and herds must wander free over the
outlying pasture-lands, and if the goblin of the district has not been
propitiated, the position of such herds, entirely at the mercy of
every marauding wolf or bear, is wretched indeed. When the favour of
the _liéshui_ has been gained over, then neither bear nor wolf will be
permitted by that all-powerful sylvan authority to injure cow or
horse, let it wander where it will, even within the actual confines of
the forest. In these days there is a special church function, known as
the "blessing of the herd," for use on the first occasion, in each
spring, on which the village cattle are allowed to go forth to
pasture, this service being designed to take the place of more ancient
ceremonies for the propitiation of the wood-goblins.
Occasionally a peasant, after a walk in the woods, feels himself
indisposed without any apparent reason for his indisposition. When
this is the case it may be assumed with practical certainty that he
has crossed the path of a _liéshui_. The sick man must immediately
return to the wood, bearing an offering of bread, salt, and a clean
napkin. Over these goods he must pronounce a prayer, afterwards
leaving them behind him for the use of the goblin, and returning to
his home, when the sickness will quickly pass from him. If any favour
is to be asked of the _liéshui_, he may be invoked for this purpose by
the following process: Cut down a number of young birches and place
them in a circle, taking care that the tops all converge towards the
centre. Then stand in the middle, take the cross from your neck--every
Russian wears this--and pocket it, and call out "Grandpapa!" The
spirit will instantly appear. There is "another way," as the cookery
books would say: Go into the wood on St. John's Eve and fell a tree,
taking care that it falls towards the west. Stand on the stump, facing
east, and look down at your toes; then invoke the _liéshui_ thus: "Oh!
grandfather, come, but not in the form of a grey wolf, nor of a black
raven; but come in the shape I myself wear!" Whereupon the spirit
appears immediately in the form of a human being, and, like a man,
prepared to make a bargain, if favours are asked. The _liéshui_ has
quite a strong sense of the great modern principle of _quid pro quo_,
and generally gets the best of it in his dealings with mankind.
Yet another peculiarity of the wood-goblin is his love for startling
and frightening those whose business compels them to journey through
his domain. He will take up a position among the boughs of a tree
under which the traveller must pass, suddenly giving vent, on the
approach of the latter, to all manner of terrifying sounds--loud
frenzied laughter, barking, neighing, bellowing, howling as of a wolf,
anything that will startle or alarm the intruder.
Undoubtedly the wood-goblin is the cause of a vast amount of trouble
to poor Ivan Ivanovitch; and he is, therefore, far from occupying the
snug place which his cousin, the _domovoy_, enjoys in the national
imagination. On the other hand, he might be very much worse than he
is, and he is undoubtedly, with all his faults and shocking vices,
infinitely preferable to that mean and skulking and treacherous
relative of his, the _vodyánnui_.