Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather! What was considered sorcery and magic in Rus'. The little gray wolf came...

In the summer, Shurik and I lived with my grandfather. Shurik is mine younger brother. He is not yet in school, but I have already entered first grade. But he still doesn’t listen to me... Well, don’t!.. When we arrived, we immediately searched the entire yard, went through all the sheds and attics. I found glass jar from under the jam and a round iron box for shoe polish. And Shurik found an old door handle and a large galosh on right leg. Then we almost got into a fight with him in the attic over a fishing rod. I was the first to see the fishing rod and said:

- C'mon, my!

Shurik saw it too and let’s shout:

- C'mon, my! C'mon, my!

I grabbed the fishing rod, and he also grabbed it and started taking it away. I got angry - like a jerk!.. He flew to the side and almost fell. Then he says:

- Just think, I really need your fishing rod! I have galoshes.

“Here you go, kiss your galosh,” I say, “but there’s no point in tearing the fishing rod out of your hands.”

I found a shovel in the barn and went to dig for worms to catch fish, and Shurik went to his grandmother and began to ask her for a match.

- Why do you need matches? - asks the grandmother.

“I,” he says, “will make a fire in the yard, put a galosh on top, the galosh will melt, and it will turn into rubber.”

- What else can you come up with! - Grandmother waved her hands. “You’re going to burn down the whole house here with your self-indulgence.” No, my dear, don’t ask. What kind of toys with fire are these? And I don’t want to listen to anything.

Then Shurik took a doorknob that he found in the barn, tied a rope to it, and tied a galosh to the other end of the rope. He walks around the yard, holding the rope by the handle, and the galosh follows him on the ground. Where he goes, so goes she. He came up to me, saw that I was digging for worms, and said:

– You don’t have to try: you won’t catch anything anyway.

- Why? - I ask.

- I will enchant the fish.

“Please,” I say, “do magic for your health.”

I dug up the worms, put them in a box and went to the pond. The pond was behind the yard - where the collective farm vegetable garden begins. I put a worm on the hook, sat down on the shore and cast the fishing rod. I sit and watch the float. And Shurik crept up from behind and let’s shout at the top of our lungs:

Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather,

Cast your spell, little gray bear!

Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather,

Cast your spell, little gray bear!

I decided to remain silent and not say anything, because it’s always like this with him: if you say anything, it will be even worse.

Finally, he cast a spell, threw his galosh into the pond and began dragging it through the water on a rope. Then he came up with this thing: he would throw his galosh into the middle of the pond and throw stones at it until he drowned, and then he would begin to pull it out from the bottom with a rope.

At first I endured it in silence, and then I couldn’t stand it:

- Get away from here! - I shout. – You scared away all the fish for me!

And he says:

“You won’t catch anything anyway: the fish is enchanted.”

And again I splashed my galoshes into the middle of the pond! I jumped up, grabbed a stick - and went to him. He starts to run away, and the galosh jumps after him on a rope. He barely ran away from me.

I returned to the pond and began to fish again. I caught and caught... The sun had already risen high, and I still sat and looked at the float. The fish won't bite, even if you crack it! I’m angry with Shurik, I’m ready to beat him straight up. It’s not that I believed in his witchcraft, but I know that if I come without fish, he will laugh. No matter what I did: I cast the fishing rod further from the shore, and lowered the hook closer and deeper - nothing worked. I felt hungry, I went home, and suddenly I heard someone banging on the gate: “Boom boom! Bang bang!

I go up to the gate, look, and it’s Shurik. He took out a hammer and nails from somewhere and nailed the door handle to the gate.

-What are you nailing for? - I ask.

He saw me and was happy:

- Hee hee! The fisherman has arrived. Where is your fish?

I speak:

- Why are you nailing the handle? There is also one handle here.

“Nothing,” he says, “let there be two.” Suddenly one comes off.

He nailed the handle, and he still had one nail left. He thought for a long time what to do with this nail, he just wanted to drive it into the gate, then he came up with an idea: he put the sole of the galosh against the gate and began to nail it.

-What is this for? - I ask.

- So simple.

“It’s just stupid,” I say.

Suddenly we see that grandfather is coming home from work. Shurik got scared, let’s tear off the galosh, but it won’t come off. Then he stood up, blocked his galosh with his back and stood.

Grandfather came up and said:

- Well done, guys! As soon as we arrived, we got to work right away... Who came up with the idea of nailing a second handle to the gate?

“This,” I say, “is Shurik.”

Grandfather just grunted.

“Well,” he says, “now we will have two handles: one on top, the other on bottom.” Suddenly some short man will come. He can’t reach the top handle, so he can reach the bottom.

Then grandfather noticed the galosh:

- What else is this?

I just snorted. “Well,” I think, “now Shurik will get from his grandfather.”

Shurik blushed, he didn’t know what to answer.

And grandfather says:

- What is this? It's probably just like a mailbox. The postman will come, see that no one is home, put the letter in his galosh and move on. Very cleverly thought out.

- I came up with this myself! – Shurik boasted.

- Really?

– Honestly!

- Well done! - Grandfather threw up his hands.

At lunch, grandfather kept throwing up his hands and telling grandma about this galosh:

– You see, what a witty child! You won’t even believe what you came up with on your own! You understand, I'm heading to the gate, huh? I’ve been saying for a long time that I need to nail down the mailbox, but I can’t figure out what’s easier than using galoshes.

“Okay,” the grandmother grinned. “I’ll buy a box, but for now let the galosh hang.”

After lunch, Shurik ran into the garden, and grandfather said:

- Well, Shurik has already distinguished himself with us, and you, Nikolka, have also probably accomplished something. Just admit it and make grandpa happy.

“I,” I say, “caught fish, but no fish were caught.”

-Where did you fish?

- In the pond.

“Eh...” the grandfather drawled, “what kind of fish is this?” This pond was recently dug. Even the frogs haven't bred here yet. And you, my dear, don’t be lazy, go to the river. The current is fast there near the bridge. On this fast line and half.

Grandfather went to work, and I took the fishing rod and said to Shurik:

- Let's go to the river and fish together.

“Yeah,” he says, “I was scared!” Now you're sucking up!

- Why should I suck up?

- And so that I don’t do magic anymore.

“Make a spell,” I say, “please.”

I took a box of worms and a jam jar so that I had somewhere to put the fish, and went. And Shurik trudged behind.

We came to the river. I settled down on the bank, not far from the bridge, where the current was faster, and cast my fishing rod.

And Shurik hovered near me and kept mumbling:

Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather,

Cast your spell, little gray bear!

He will be silent for a moment, silent, and then again:

Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather...

Suddenly the fish bites, and I pull the fishing rod! The fish sparkled in the air, fell off the hook, fell onto the shore and, well, danced near the water itself.

Shurik will shout:

- Hold her!

I rushed to the fish and let's catch. The fish jumps along the shore, and he throws himself directly at it with his belly, but cannot catch it; She almost ran back into the river.

Finally he grabbed her. I filled a jar with water, Shurik put the fish in it and began to look at it.

“This,” he says, “is a perch.” Honestly, perch! See how striped he is? C'mon, it'll be mine!

- Okay, let it be yours. We'll catch a lot more.

We fished for a long time that day. We caught six perch, four minnows and even caught one brushfish.

On way back Shurik was carrying a jar of fish and didn’t even let me hold it. He was very happy and not at all offended when he saw that his galosh had disappeared, and in its place there was a brand new blue letter box hanging on the gate.

“Well, let it be,” he said. - In my opinion, the box is even better than the galoshes.

He waved his hand and quickly ran to show the fish to his grandmother. Grandma praised us. And then I told him:

- You see, you did magic! Your witchcraft doesn't mean anything. I don't believe in witchcraft.

- Ugh! – said Shurik. - Do you think I believe? Only savages and old ladies believe this.

By this he made the grandmother laugh very much, because although the grandmother was old, she also did not believe in witchcraft.

Shurik is with his grandfather. Nosov story for children to read

In the summer, Shurik and I lived with my grandfather. Shurik is my younger brother. He is not yet in school, but I have already entered first grade. But he still doesn’t listen to me... Well, don’t!.. When we arrived, we immediately searched the entire yard, went through all the sheds and attics. I found a glass jam jar and a round iron shoe polish box. And Shurik found an old door handle and a large galosh for his right foot. Then we almost got into a fight with him in the attic over a fishing rod. I was the first to see the fishing rod and said:
─ Mind you, my!
Shurik saw it too and let’s shout:
─ Mind you, my! C'mon, my!
I grabbed the fishing rod, and he also grabbed it and started taking it away. I got angry - I was so angry!.. He flew to the side and almost fell. Then he says:
─ Just think, I really need your fishing rod! I have galoshes.
“So kiss your galosh,” I say, “but there’s no point in tearing the fishing rod out of your hands.”
I found a shovel in the barn and went to dig for worms to catch fish, and Shurik went to his grandmother and began to ask her for matches.
─ Why do you need matches? ─ asks the grandmother.
“I,” he says, “will make a fire in the yard, put a galosh on top, the galosh will melt, and it will turn into rubber.”
─ What else can you come up with! ─ Grandmother waved her hands. ─ Here you are, burning down the whole house with your self-indulgence. No, my dear, don’t ask. What kind of toys with fire are these? And I don’t want to listen to anything.
Then Shurik took a doorknob that he found in the barn, tied a rope to it, and tied a galosh to the other end of the rope. He walks around the yard, holding the rope by the handle, and the galosh follows him on the ground. Where he goes, she goes too. He came up to me, saw that I was digging for worms, and said:
─ You don’t have to try: you won’t catch anything anyway.
─ Why is this? ─ I ask.
─ I will enchant the fish.
─ Please, ─ I say, ─ do magic for your health.
I dug up the worms, put them in a box and went to the pond. The pond was behind the yard ─ where the collective farm vegetable garden begins. I put a worm on the hook, sat down on the shore and cast the fishing rod. I sit and watch the float. And Shurik crept up from behind and let’s shout at the top of our lungs:
Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather,
Cast your spell, little gray bear!
Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather,
Cast your spell, little gray bear!
I decided to remain silent and not say anything, because it’s always like this with him: if you say anything, it will be even worse.
Finally, he cast a spell, threw his galosh into the pond and began dragging it through the water on a rope. Then he came up with this thing: he would throw his galosh into the middle of the pond and throw stones at it until he drowned, and then he would start to pull it out from the bottom with a rope.
At first I endured it in silence, and then I couldn’t stand it:
─ Get out of here! ─ I scream. ─ You scared away all the fish for me! And he says:
─ You won’t catch anything anyway: the fish is enchanted.
And again I splashed my galoshes into the middle of the pond! I jumped up, grabbed a stick and went to him. He starts to run away, and the galosh jumps after him on a rope. He barely ran away from me.
I returned to the pond and began to fish again. I caught and caught... The sun had already risen high, and I was still sitting and looking at the float. The fish won't bite, even if you crack it! I’m angry with Shurik, I’m ready to beat him straight up. It’s not that I believed in his witchcraft, but I know that if I come without fish, he will laugh. No matter what I did: I cast the fishing rod further from the shore, and lowered the hook closer and deeper - nothing worked.
I wanted to eat, I went home, suddenly I heard ─ someone banging on the gate: “Boom-boom! Bang-bang!
I go up to the gate, look, and it’s Shurik. He took out a hammer and nails from somewhere and nailed the door handle to the gate.
─ Why are you nailing this? ─ I ask.
He saw me and was happy:
─ Hee hee! The fisherman has arrived. Where is your fish?
I speak:
─ Why are you nailing the handle? There is also one handle here.
“Nothing,” he says, “let there be two.” Suddenly one comes off.
He nailed the handle and still had one nail left. He thought for a long time what to do with this nail, he just wanted to drive it into the gate, then he came up with an idea: he put the sole of the galosh against the gate and began to nail it.
─ What is this for? ─ I ask.
─ So simple.
“It’s just stupid,” I say.
Suddenly we see that grandfather is coming home from work. Shurik got scared, let’s tear off the galosh, but it won’t come off. Then he stood up, blocked his galosh with his back and stood.
Grandfather came up and said:
─ Well done, guys! Just arrived ─ and immediately got to work... Who came up with the idea of nailing a second handle to the gate?
─ This, ─ I say, ─ Shurik.
Grandfather just grunted.
─ Well, ─ he says, ─ now we will have two handles: one on top, the other on bottom. Suddenly some short man will come. He can’t reach the top handle, so he can reach the bottom.
Then grandfather noticed the galosh:
─ What else is this?
I just snorted. “Well, ─ I think, ─ now Shurik will be from his grandfather.”
Shurik blushed, he didn’t know what to answer.
And grandfather says:
─ What is this? It's probably like a mailbox. The postman will come, see that no one is home, put the letter in his galosh and move on. Very cleverly thought out.
─ I came up with this myself! ─ Shurik boasted.
─ Really?
─ Honestly!
─ Well done! ─ Grandfather threw up his hands.
At lunch, grandfather kept throwing up his hands and telling grandma about this galosh:
─ You see, what a witty child! You won’t even believe what you came up with on your own! You understand, I'm heading to the gate, huh? I’ve been saying for a long time that I need to nail down the mailbox, but I can’t figure out what’s easier than using galoshes.
“Okay,” the grandmother grinned. ─ I’ll buy a box, but for now let the galosh hang.
After lunch, Shurik ran into the garden, and grandfather said:
─ Well, Shurik has already distinguished himself with us, and you, Nikolka, have also probably accomplished something. Just admit it and make grandpa happy.
─ I, ─ I say, ─ was fishing, but no fish were being caught.
─Where did you fish?
─ In the pond.
─ Uh... ─ grandfather drawled, ─ what kind of fish is there? This pond was recently dug. Even the frogs haven't bred here yet. And you, my dear, don’t be lazy, go to the river. The current is fast there near the bridge. On this fast line and half.
Grandfather went to work, and I took the fishing rod and said to Shurik:
─ Let's go to the river and fish together.
─ Yeah, ─ he says, ─ I was scared! Now you're sucking up!
─ Why should I suck up?
─ So that I don’t do magic anymore.
─ Conjure, ─ I say, ─ please.
I took a box of worms and a jam jar so that I had somewhere to put the fish, and went. And Shurik trudged behind.
We came to the river. I settled down on the bank, not far from the bridge, where the current was faster, and cast my fishing rod.
And Shurik is hovering around me and muttering:
Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather,
Cast your spell, little gray bear!
He will be silent for a moment, silent, and then again:
Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather...
Suddenly the fish bites, I suddenly pull the fishing rod! The fish sparkled in the air, fell off the hook, fell onto the shore and, well, danced near the water itself.
Shurik will shout:
─ Hold her!
I rushed to the fish and let's catch. The fish jumps along the shore, and he throws himself straight at it with his belly, but cannot catch it; She almost ran back into the river.
Finally he grabbed her. I filled a jar with water, Shurik put the fish in it and began to look at it.
─ This, ─ he says, ─ is a perch. Honestly, perch! See how striped he is? C'mon, it'll be mine!
─ Okay, let it be yours. We'll catch a lot more.
We fished for a long time that day. We caught six perch, four minnows and even caught one pipefish.
On the way back, Shurik carried a jar of fish and didn’t even let me hold it. He was very happy and not at all offended when he saw that his galosh had disappeared, and in its place there was a brand new blue letter box hanging on the gate.
“Well, so be it,” he said. ─ In my opinion, a box is even better than galoshes.
He waved his hand and quickly ran to show the fish to his grandmother. Grandma praised us. And then I told him:
─ You see, you did magic! Your witchcraft doesn't mean anything. I don't believe in witchcraft.
─ Uh! - said Shurik. ─ Do you think I believe? Only savages and old ladies believe this.
By this he made the grandmother laugh very much, because although the grandmother was old, she also did not believe in witchcraft.

Those who believe that the sorcerers of past years could really send or remove damage, and therefore deserve a noose or a fire, are greatly mistaken.

E. Brevtal. A visit to the witch. 1882.

A thoughtful study of ancient cases of witchcraft, with which the archives of the Detective and Robber Orders, as well as the Order of Secret Affairs, are full, provides very interesting picture. In fact, it turns out that there are practically no sorcerers as such. But there are other categories of “walking people” who, even in today’s humane times, should be in prison.

Drug trafficking of the 17th century

Here is the case of Mtsensk inhabitants of the clergy from 1653. “Priest Vasily strikes with his brow that his children Filka and Ivashka were at the monastery... And the abbot’s son Anichka and the Assumption sexton Ivashka brought his mash to the children, and in that mash there was mixed an unknown kind of poisonous potion, and they, having drunk that herb, laughed like a beast until loss of shame, and they became out of their minds, they lie without memory, they don’t speak, and when they jump up, they climb the wall.”

Cases of “witchcraft damage” were hastily opened. But a couple of days later the details became clear. “The sexton Ivashka testified that he received this unknown herb from a guest, Dementy Rusinov. The same Dementiy said that a passer-by gave him the seeds of that herb, and he got them from a merchant, and dragged them to the garden, and she saw it there, and they began to mix it into a drink, as that merchant said.” Judging by the description, there is no smell of witchcraft here, but rather the banal use of a narcotic drug of plant origin. The concept of a “drug den” did not exist then, so the accused got off lightly - the grass and seeds were confiscated from them, and they themselves were ordered to undergo church repentance.

In 1636, one tavern owner, fearing competition, denounced his colleague Petrushka, “that he, Petrushka, brought an unknown root from the field, boasting that from that root everyone in his tavern would be drunk.” The investigation began. At first, the matter also had a “witchcraft” connotation. But the ends were found surprisingly quickly. They kept Parsley in prison and, having made sure that the “witch’s root” was a banal dope for strengthening beer, they poured batogs on him and imposed a significant fine for cheating.

In general, a significant part of “witchcraft” cases turn out to be ordinary crimes. And brothel keeping, as well as storage and distribution of drugs are clearly in the lead on this list.

Doctors without a license

Many are misled by the terms of those years. In cases of witchcraft, the word “torture” is almost the most commonly used word. The imagination completes the picture of a gloomy dungeon, a rack, red-hot pincers... In reality, “torture” only meant “to interrogate”, that is, to conduct an interrogation. The bailiffs who were tasked with conducting the investigation rarely resorted to the services of an executioner. Firstly, these services cost money, and a lot of it. Secondly, it often turned out that sorcerers were just healers. Only operate without a license, at your own peril and risk.

In 1630, under the new governor, a directive was sent to Lebedyansky district: “Take care so that there is no robbery, murder, whoredom, sorcery and any other theft in Lebedyansky.” And then, as luck would have it, a denunciation comes against a certain woman: “That grandmother did the magic, looked at her before her eyes and rummaged through her insides.” The case was started: “Order that grandmother-witch to be seized and, having really asked what kind of sorcery she does and what she uses to tell fortunes, torture her about everything, and report this to the sovereign, and order her to be kept tightly until the decree.”

While the grandmother was kept under lock and key, witnesses were interviewed. No serious crime was found, but the professional inclination of the “witch” was revealed. For the 17th century, the specialization was very advanced - ophthalmology. Thus, one witness’s grandmother “treated his eyes by removing the liver from a sheep.” For another - “she treated the eyes, and poured millet into the water, and Nazara washed me with that water, and Nazara put milk in my eyes.” To the third - “she treated the eye near the eye and cast a spell over it with a baked onion.” For what diseases you can use water infused with millet, God knows. But vered, that is, an abscess, can really be treated with baked onions - here the grandmother’s qualifications are worth envying. The same can be said about raw lamb liver - it helps greatly against suppuration. In any case, the well-known Emelyan Pugachev, 150 years later, very effectively treated his wounds received in the face near the eye this way.

Everyday and concrete

So was there “real” witchcraft? It depends on what you mean by this word. Our Moscow style of witchcraft did without waving with a magic wand and flights to the Sabbath. Everything is ordinary and concrete. In 1647, a certain “woman Agashka admitted that she was making trouble for her lover Fedka because he walked past her to Safroshka’s wife.” That is, to put it simply, she tried to make a man impotent out of jealousy. Another woman, a certain Daritsa, also, by the way, out of jealousy, decided to kill her lucky rival. And so, when the newlyweds returned from the wedding and went to the upper room, “that Daritsa lit a splinter and threw that splinter at the bride under the stairs, and then began to bite on that splinter with a sentence and a whisper, and the bride began to waste away three days later.” Moscow justice in similar cases showed itself from the humane side. In enlightened Europe, they burned indiscriminately right and left for much lesser offenses, but here Agashka was sentenced to batogs and church repentance, Daritsa - to the whip, tearing out of her tongue, nostrils and exile.

Perhaps the reason for this is the passion for witchcraft in the highest circles of the state. By the way, Ivan the Terrible is credited with witchcraft origins. Prince Kurbsky, following many haters of the formidable tsar, argued that Vasily III, for a long time being childless, “he looked for evil enchanters everywhere to help him with fruitfulness, sent for them all the way to Korela, got satanic advisers there, and with their help, from the most vile seeds, his son, a depraved bloodsucker, was born.” In light of this, it is especially interesting that in 1584, when he was dying, Ivan the Terrible trusted not just any sorcerers, but precisely the Karelian-Lapland ones. Over the course of several months, the king’s special expedition caught six dozen “dashing women” in those regions who had become skilled in witchcraft. They were taken to Moscow and put under lock and key, awaiting predictions. And the predictions began. The Karelians announced that they must wait for the death of the Tsar on March 18. He did not believe it and ordered, after waiting for this number, to “burn the bad women alive.” But the execution was late: as soon as boyar Belsky went to order the execution, the tsar sat down to play chess, fainted and soon died.

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Nikolay Nosov

Shurik at grandpa's

This summer Shurik and I lived with my grandfather. Shurik is my younger brother. He is not yet in school, but I have already entered first grade. But he still doesn’t listen to me... Well, don’t!.. When we arrived, we immediately searched the entire yard, went through all the sheds and attics. I found a glass jam jar and a round iron shoe polish box. And Shurik found an old door handle and a large galosh for his right foot. Then we almost got into a fight with him in the attic over a fishing rod. I was the first to see the fishing rod and said:

C'mon, my!

Shurik saw it too and let’s shout:

C'mon, my! C'mon, my!

I grabbed the fishing rod, and he also grabbed it and started taking it away. I got angry - like a jerk!.. He flew to the side and almost fell. Then he says:

Just think, I really need your fishing rod! I have galoshes.

So kiss your galosh,” I say, “but there’s no point in tearing the fishing rod out of your hands.”

I found a shovel in the barn and went to dig for worms to catch fish, and Shurik went to his grandmother and began to ask her for matches.

Why do you need matches? - asks the grandmother.

“I,” he says, “will make a fire in the yard, put a galosh on top, the galosh will melt, and rubber will turn out of it.”

What else can you come up with! - Grandma waved her hands. - Here you are, burning down the whole house with your self-indulgence. No, my dear, don’t ask. What kind of toys with fire are these? And I don’t want to listen to anything.

You don’t have to try: you won’t catch anything anyway.

Why? - I ask.

I'll put a spell on the fish.

Please, I say, do magic for your health.

Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather, Conjure, little gray bear! Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather, Conjure, little gray bear!

I decided to remain silent and not say anything, because it’s always like this with him: if you say anything, it will be even worse.

At first I endured it in silence, and then I couldn’t stand it:

Get away from here! - I shout. - You scared away all the fish for me! And he says:

You won’t catch anything anyway: the fish is enchanted.

I returned to the pond and began to fish again. I caught and caught... The sun had already risen high, and I was still sitting and looking at the float. The fish won't bite, even if you crack it! I’m angry with Shurik, I’m ready to beat him straight up. It’s not that I believed in his witchcraft, but I know that if I come without fish, he will laugh. No matter what I did: I cast the fishing rod further from the shore, and lowered the hook closer and deeper - nothing worked.

I felt hungry, I went home, and suddenly I heard someone knocking on the gate: “Boom-boom! Bang-bang!”

I go up to the gate, look, and it’s Shurik. He took out a hammer and nails from somewhere and nailed the door handle to the gate.

What are you nailing this for? - I ask.

He saw me and was happy:

Hee hee! The fisherman has arrived. Where is your fish?

I speak:

Why are you nailing the handle? There is also one handle here.

It’s okay,” he says, “let there be two.” Suddenly one comes off.

He nailed the handle and still had one nail left. He thought for a long time what to do with this nail, he just wanted to drive it into the gate, then he came up with an idea: he put the sole of the galosh against the gate and began to nail it.

What is this for? - I ask.

So simple.

Just stupid, I say.

Suddenly we look - grandpa is coming home from work. Shurik got scared, let’s tear off the galosh, but it won’t come off. Then he stood up, blocked his galosh with his back and stood.

Grandfather came up and said:

Well done, guys! As soon as we arrived, we got to work right away... Who came up with the idea of nailing a second handle to the gate?

This, I say, is Shurik.

Grandfather just grunted.

Well,” he says, “now we will have two handles: one on top, the other on bottom.” Suddenly some short man will come. He can’t reach the top handle, so he can reach the bottom.

Then grandfather noticed the galosh:

What else is this?

I just snorted. “Well,” I think, “now Shurik will be from his grandfather.”

Shurik blushed, he didn’t know what to answer.

And grandfather says:

What is this? It's probably like a mailbox. The postman will come, see that no one is home, put the letter in his galosh and move on. Very cleverly thought out.

I came up with this myself! - Shurik boasted.

Really?

Honestly!

Well done! - Grandfather threw up his hands.

At lunch, grandfather kept throwing up his hands and telling grandma about this galosh:

You see, what a witty child! You won’t even believe what you came up with on your own! You understand, I'm heading to the gate, huh? I’ve been saying for a long time that I need to nail down the mailbox, but I can’t figure out what’s easier than using galoshes.

“Okay,” the grandmother grinned. - I’ll buy a box, but for now let the galosh hang.

After lunch, Shurik ran into the garden, and grandfather said:

Well, Shurik has already distinguished himself with us, and you, Nikolka, have also probably accomplished something. Just admit it and make grandpa happy.

“I,” I say, “caught fish, but no fish were caught.”

Where did you fish?

In the pond.

Um...” Grandfather drawled, “what kind of fish is this?” This pond was recently dug. Even the frogs haven't bred here yet. And you, my dear, don’t be lazy, go to the river. The current is fast there near the bridge. On this fast line and half.

Grandfather went to work, and I took the fishing rod and said to Shurik:

Let's go to the river and fish together.

Yeah,” he says, “I was scared!” Now you're sucking up!

Why should I suck up?

And so that I don’t do magic anymore.

Cast a spell, I say, please.

I took a box of worms and a jam jar so that I had somewhere to put the fish, and went. And Shurik trudged behind.

We came to the river. I settled down on the bank, not far from the bridge, where the current was faster, and cast my fishing rod.

And Shurik is hovering around me and muttering:

Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather, Conjure, little gray bear!

He will be silent for a moment, silent, and then again:

Conjure, woman, conjure, grandfather...

Suddenly the fish bites, I suddenly pull the fishing rod! The fish sparkled in the air, fell off the hook, fell onto the shore and, well, danced near the water itself.

Shurik will shout:

Hold her!

I rushed to the fish and let's catch. The fish jumps along the shore, and he throws himself straight at it with his belly, but cannot catch it; She almost ran back into the river.

Finally he grabbed her. I filled a jar with water, Shurik put the fish in it and began to look at it.

This, he says, is a perch. Honestly, perch! See how striped he is? C'mon, it'll be mine!

Okay, let it be yours. We'll catch a lot more.

We fished for a long time that day. We caught six perch, four minnows and even caught one pipefish.

On the way back, Shurik carried a jar of fish and didn’t even let me hold it. He was very happy and not at all offended when he saw that his galosh had disappeared, and in its place there was a brand new blue letter box hanging on the gate.

Well, so be it, he said. - In my opinion, the box is even better than the galoshes.

He waved his hand and quickly ran to show the fish to his grandmother. Grandma praised us. And then I told him:

You see, you did magic! Your witchcraft doesn't mean anything. I don't believe in witchcraft.

Uh! - said Shurik. - Do you think I believe? Only savages and old ladies believe this.

By this he made the grandmother laugh very much, because although the grandmother was old, she also did not believe in witchcraft.

Those who believe that the sorcerers of past years could really send or remove damage, and therefore deserve a noose or a fire, are greatly mistaken.

E. Brevtal. A visit to the witch. 1882.

A thoughtful study of ancient cases of witchcraft, with which the archives of the Detective and Robber Orders, as well as the Order of Secret Affairs, are full, gives a very interesting picture. In fact, it turns out that there are practically no sorcerers as such. But there are other categories of “walking people” who, even in today’s humane times, should be in prison.

Drug trafficking of the 17th century

In general, a significant part of “witchcraft” cases turn out to be ordinary crimes. And brothel keeping, as well as storage and distribution of drugs are clearly in the lead on this list.

Doctors without a license

Everyday and concrete

So was there “real” witchcraft? It depends on what you mean by this word. Our Moscow style of witchcraft did without waving a magic wand and flying to the Sabbath. Everything is ordinary and concrete. In 1647, a certain “woman Agashka admitted that she was making trouble for her lover Fedka because he walked past her to Safroshka’s wife.” That is, to put it simply, she tried to make a man impotent out of jealousy. Another woman, a certain Daritsa, also, by the way, out of jealousy, decided to kill her lucky rival. And so, when the newlyweds returned from the wedding and went to the upper room, “that Daritsa lit a splinter and threw that splinter at the bride under the stairs, and then began to bite on that splinter with a sentence and a whisper, and the bride began to waste away three days later.” Moscow justice in such cases showed itself from the humane side. In enlightened Europe, they burned indiscriminately right and left for much lesser offenses, but here Agashka was sentenced to batogs and church repentance, Daritsa - to the whip, tearing out of her tongue, nostrils and exile.

Perhaps the reason for this is the passion for witchcraft in the highest circles of the state. By the way, Ivan the Terrible is credited with witchcraft origins. Prince Kurbsky, following many haters of the formidable king, argued that Vasily III, having been childless for a long time, “looked for evil enchanters everywhere to help him with fruitfulness, sent for them right up to Korela, obtained satanic advisers there and with their help, from the most vile seeds, he was born.” son of a bloodsucker." In light of this, it is especially interesting that in 1584, when he was dying, Ivan the Terrible trusted not just any sorcerers, but precisely the Karelian-Lapland ones. Over the course of several months, the king’s special expedition caught six dozen “dashing women” in those regions who had become skilled in witchcraft. They were taken to Moscow and put under lock and key, awaiting predictions. And the predictions began. The Karelians announced that they must wait for the death of the Tsar on March 18. He did not believe it and ordered, after waiting for this number, to “burn the bad women alive.” But the execution was late: as soon as boyar Belsky went to order the execution, the tsar sat down to play chess, fainted and soon died.