4.
The Shaman: “A Villain of a Magician Who Calls Demons”
The first person to use the word shaman in a published text was Avvakum Petrovich, a leader of the conservative clergy in Russia in the second half of the seventeenth century. Avvakum’s description of a Tungus shaman appeared in his autobiography, which is considered to be one of the first major works in Russian literature. In the summer of 1661, the czar deported Avvakum to Siberia. The head of the expedition, a man called Paskov, decided to consult a local shaman. Avvakum’s mixture of prayers and paranoia blurs the lines between priest and shaman.
As he was about to send his son Jeremy to wage war against the Mongol kingdom—along with seventy-two cossacks and twenty natives—Paskov obliged a native to do the shaman, that is to say the diviner: will the expedition be successful, and will they return victorious? That evening, this villain of a magician brought a living ram over near my hut and started to practice his magic on it: Having turned it over, he wrung its neck and cast off its head. Then he started to jump and dance and call the demons; finally, making piercing screams, he threw himself on the ground and foam came out of his mouth. The demons pressed him, and he asked them: “Will the expedition be successful?” And the demons replied: “You will return with a great victory and great wealth.” This made the governors [Paskov and his son] happy, and everybody declared joyfully: “We will come back rich!”
Oh! what bitterness for my soul, which has yet to sweeten! I was a bad pastor, and had lost my flock and in my grief I forgot what the Gospel says. . . . I cried out and proclaimed to the Lord: “Listen to me, my God! Listen to me, clear king of heaven! Listen to me, may not one of them return! Dig a tomb for them there! Send them evil, Lord, send it to them! And lead them to their loss, so that the diabolical prophesy not be accomplished!” And many other similar words. In secret I also addressed the same prayer to God.
They told Paskov the wishes I was making, and he was content to cover me with insults.
He dispatched his son with the troops. They left at night, when the stars were out. At that moment I took pity on them: My soul saw that they would be massacred, and that I was the one calling death on them! Some of them came to say good-bye to me, and I told them: “You will die!” No sooner had they set off than their horses started to neigh, and here, the cows lowed, the ewes and goats bleated, and the dogs howled, and the natives, like the dogs, also howled. Dread fell on everybody. Jeremy sent me a message and implored: Master, my father, pray for me! . . .
So they were far away, gone off to war. Jeremy inspired pity in me: I pressed the Lord to spare him. We were waiting for their return: They did not arrive according to the agreed time. Paskov did not allow me to approach him. One day, he installed a small chamber and lit a great fire. He wanted to put me to the question. I was familiar with his tricks: It was difficult to survive that kind of fire. . . . And here two torturers came running toward me. Marvelous is the work of the Lord, unfathomable are the plans of the Almighty! Just then, a wounded Jeremy, with another cavalryman, went by on the path in front of my chamber. He hailed the torturers, and took them away with him. Paskov left the chamber, and went out to meet his son, like a man drunk with pain. And Jeremy, having exchanged greetings with his father, told him everything in detail: how the whole troop was massacred without any survivors, how he was wounded by the Mongols and how a native helped him to escape through deserted places, how he crossed rocky mountains and wandered seven days through the forest without food—he ate a squirrel!—and how a man who looked like me appeared to him in a dream, blessed him, and told him which way to go: This gave him a start, made him joyful, and he found the right path. As he was telling this to his father, I arrived to greet them. Paskov laid his eyes on me—like a polar bear, he would eat me alive, but the Lord will not give me over to him!—sighed, and said: “There is your work! How many men did you send to death!” But Jeremy said: “Master, my father, return to your cabin! Be quiet, for the love of Christ!” And I left them.