Taxes
Besides my ordinary visitors and applicants, there are today some special ones. The first is a childless old peasant who is ending his life in great poverty. The second is a poor woman with a crowd of children. The third is, I believe, a well-to-do peasant.
All three have come from our village, and all have come about the same business. The taxes are being collected before the New Year, and the old man’s samovar, the woman’s only sheep, and one of the well-to-do peasant’s cows, have been noted down for seizure in case of nonpayment. They all ask me to defend them or assist them, or to do both.
The well-to-do peasant, a tall, handsome, elderly man, is the first to speak. He tells me that the Village Elder came, noted down the cow, and demands twenty-seven roubles. This levy is for the obligatory Grain Reserve Fund, and ought not, the peasant thinks, to be collected at this time of year. I know nothing about it, and tell him that I will inquire in the District Government Office, and will let him know whether the payment of the tax can be postponed or not.
The second to speak is the old man whose samovar has been noted. The small, thin, weakly, poorly clad man relates, with pathetic grief and bewilderment, how they came, took his samovar, and demanded three roubles and seventy kopecks of him, which he has not got and can’t get.
I ask him what the tax is for.
“Some kind of Government tax. … Who can tell what it is? Where am I and my old woman to get the money? As it is, we hardly manage to live! …