Books: In Those Days

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Well, Peter listened to me; he saw there was reason in what I told
him; and yet he did not feel that way. He did not feel the
necessity of acting immediately, and he put it off.

Now, it seems to me that when things come to such a pass between a
Gentile husband and his Jewish wife, the results are bound to be
strange, unusual, and anything but agreeable. It is all something
like--let me see--something like what is written in the Bible about
the confusion of tongues, when one could not understand the speech
of his fellow. Indeed, had Peter known that it was Anna who sent me
to him, he would have resented it surely, and would have thought
that she cared more for his inheritance than she cared for him.

And Peter died, after a long illness.

Then Anna had to go through an ordeal she had not yet experienced in
her life of apostasy: she had to go through the ceremony of mourning
according to the prescribed rules. And her fears regarding the
house turned out to have been but too well founded. The village
elder, in the name of the rest of the relatives, disputed Peter's
title to the property. Anna was given a small sum of money, and the
whole piece of property was deeded over to Serge Ivanovich. As to
Anna and Marusya, they had to be satisfied with the little money
they received.

In the end it turned out that there was a deeper purpose at the
bottom of the whole affair. That scamp, Serge Ivanovich, understood
very well that in every respect Marusya was above the rest of the
village girls, and he made up his mind to marry her. To be sure, he
hated the Jews: they always managed to intrude where they were least
wanted; and he never missed an opportunity of insulting Anna and her
daughter. But that is just the way they all are: they will spit
to-day, to lick it off to-morrow. At the same time he knew well
enough that Marusya would not be willing to have him. Yet, in spite
of it all, he sent some friends with the formal message of a
proposal. As an inducement he promised to deed the whole property
to Anna and Marusya. Anna seemed willing enough to accept the
offer. Then Marusya turned to me. I began to side with Anna.

"You are a liar!" shouted Marusya, turning to me. And she was
right. Indeed, I did not wish at all to see Marusya marry Serve.
But I cannot tell why I had said the opposite. Then Marusya curtly
dismissed the representatives of the suitor.

I decided not to part from the two unhappy women just then and leave
them alone with their misfortune. But Heaven willed otherwise. The
Crimean War had been decided upon, and our regiment was the first to
be sent to the front. So I was taken from my dear friends just when
they needed me most.--

XI

A mixture of light and darkness appeared in a corner of the eastern
sky, something like the reflection of a distant conflagration. The
light spread farther and farther, and swallowed many a star. It
looked as if some half-extinguished firebrand of a world had blazed
up again, and was burning brightly once more. But no! that was
neither a world-catastrophe nor a conflagration: some mysterious new
creation was struggling into existence. And after the noiseless
storm and battle of lights, the moon appeared, angry-looking, and
ragged-edged. In the light of the moon the speaker too looked
strange and fantastic, like a relic of a world that is no more.

The old man continued:--

Well, on that day we turned a new leaf in our lives. Till then we
had been like people who live against their own will, without aim or
object. We had to get up in the morning, because we had gone to bed
the night before. We ate, because we were hungry. We went to our
drills, because we were ordered to go. And we went to sleep at
night, because we felt tired. All our existence seemed to be only
for the sake of discipline; and that discipline, again, seemed a
thing in itself. But the moment they told us of mobilization and
war, our riddle was solved. It suddenly became clear to us why we
had been caught and brought to where we were, and why we had been
suffering all the time. It looked as if year in, year out, we had
been walking in the darkness of some cave, and all of a sudden our
path became light. And we were happy.

I saw Jacob: he, too, looked happy, which had not been his way for
the last few years. From the moment he had received permission to
pray in Hebrew and observe the Sabbath, his mood had changed for the
worse: he looked as if he were "possessed." He complained that his
prayers were not so sweet to him any more as they had been before;
and the Sabbath rest was a real burden upon him. Then, his father
did not appear in his dreams any more. Besides, he confessed that
he forgot his prayers many a time, and was not very strict as to the
Sabbath. He feared his prayers were no longer acceptable in Heaven.
No, said he, that was not his destiny: the Jewishness of a
Cantonist lay only in suffering martyrdom. But with the news of the
coming war, a change came over him. He became gay as a child.

One morning, when we were assembled on the drill grounds before the
house of the sergeant, I was called into the house. "Hourvitz,"
said my good sergeant, turning to me, "three beautiful creatures ask
me not to send you to the fighting line but to appoint you to some
auxiliary company. Ask, and I shall do so."

"Sir," said I, "if this be your order, I have but to obey; but if my
wish counts for anything, I should prefer to stay with the colors
and go to the fighting line. Otherwise what was our preparation for
and our training of many years?"

A smile of satisfaction appeared on the face of the sergeant.

"And if you fall in battle?"

"I shall not fall, sir, before I make others fall."

"What makes you feel so sure of it?"

"I cannot tell, sir; but it is enough if I am sure of it."

"Well, I agree with you. Now let us hear what your fair advocates
have to say."

He opened the door of an adjoining room, and Anna, Marusya, and the
sergeant's wife appeared. Then a dispute began. They insisted on
their opinion, and I on mine.

"Let us count votes," said the sergeant. "I grant you two votes;
together with my own vote it makes three against tree."

Then I looked at Marusya. She thought a little, and added her vote
to mine. So the majority prevailed. When I went outside, Marusya
followed me, and handed me a small parcel. What I found there,
among other things, was a small Hebrew prayer book, which Marusya
must have gotten at Moshko's, and a small silver cross which she had
always worn around her neck. We looked at each other and kept
silent: was there anything to be said?

After she had walked away a few steps, she turned around, as if she
had forgotten something.

"And if you return . . . ?"

"Then to you I return," was my answer. She went on, and I turned to
look back in her direction: she also looked back at me. Later I
turned again to look at her, and she, too, kept looking back, until
we lost sight of each other.

Before Anna could be dispossessed, Heaven wrought a miracle: Serge
Ivanovich was drafted into the army. He was attached to our
regiment, and we served in the same company. In the meantime Anna
remained in possession of the house.

XII

So, after all, they had not been mere sport, those years of
drilling, of exercising, of training to "stand up," to "lie down,"
to "run," etc., etc. . . .

It had been all for the sake of war, and it was to war that we were
going. My companion in exile, I mean my Barker, did not wish to
part from me. Ashamed though I am, I must yet call him "my true
friend." Human beings as a rule forget favors rendered. This is
the way God has made them. In very truth, it is only your soldier,
your fellow in exile, and your dog that are able to serve you and
love you at the risk of their own lives. I chased Barker away, but
he kept on following me. I struck him: he took the blows, and
licked my hands. I struck him over the legs with the stock of my
gun. He broke out in a whine, and ran after me, limping. Marusya
caught him and locked him up in the stable. I thought I had gotten
rid of him. But some hours later I saw him limping after me. Then
I realized that the dog was fated to share all the troubles of
campaign life with me. And my Barker became a highly respectable
dog. The first day he eyed everybody with a look of suspicion. The
bright buttons and the blue uniforms scared him; possibly because
buttons and uniforms went with stocks of guns like the one that had
given him the lame leg. By and by Barker picked me and Jacob out
from among the soldiers, and kept near us. They used to say in our
company that Barker was a particular friend of jews, and he knew a
Jew when he saw one. Very likely that was so. But then they never
knew how many slices of bread and meat Barker had gotten from Jewish
hands before he knew the difference.

Just about that time we got other new companions. One of them was a
certain Pole, Vassil Stefanovich Zagrubsky, blessed be his memory,
Jew-hater though he was.

The beginning of our acquaintance promised no good. That particular
Pole was poor but proud--a poor fellow with many wants. Then he was
a smoker, too. I also enjoyed a smoke when I had an extra copper in
my pocket. But Zagrubsky had a passion for smoking, and when he had
no tobacco of his own, he demanded it of others. That was his way:
he could not beg; he could only demand. Three of us shared one
tent: Zagrubsky, Serge, and myself. Serge was a soldier in
comfortable circumstances. He had taken some money with him from
home, and received a monthly allowance from his parents. He always
had excellent tobacco. Once, when he happened to open his tobacco
pouch to roll a cigarette, Zagrubsky took notice of it, and put
forth his hand to take some tobacco. That was his way: whenever he
saw a tobacco pouch open, he would try to help himself to some of
its contents. But Serge was one of those peasants whose ambition
extends beyond their class. He was painfully proud, prouder than
any of the nobles. Before entering the service he had made up his
mind to "rise." He wanted to become an officer, so that the
villagers would have to stand at attention before him, when he
returned home. Therefore he gave Zagrubsky a supercilious look of
contempt, and unceremoniously closed the pouch when the Pole wanted
to take some tobacco. I was sorry for the Pole, and offered him
some of my own tobacco. He did not fail to take it, but at the same
time I heard him sizzle out "Zhid" from between his tightly closed
lips. I looked at him in amazement: how on earth could he guess I
was a Jew, when I spoke my Russian with the right accent and
inflection, while his was lame, broken, and half mixed with Polish?
That was a riddle to me. But I had no time to puzzle it out, and I
forgot it on the spot.

We had long been occupying the same position, waiting for a merry
beginning. All that time seemed to us something like a preparation
for a holiday; but the long tiresome wait was disgusting. In the
meantime something extraordinary happened in our camp. Our camp was
surrounded by a cordon of sentries. At some distance from the
cordon was the camp of the purveyors, the merchants who supplied the
soldiers with all kinds of necessaries. Without a special permit no
purveyor could pass the line of sentries and enter the camp.

It happened that one of those purveyors excited the suspicion of
Jacob. Without really knowing why, Jacob came to consider him a
suspicious character. Even Barker, timid dog that he was, once
viciously attacked that particular man, as if to tear him to pieces.
And it was with great difficulty that Jacob saved him from Barker's
teeth. But from that time on Jacob began to watch the man closely.
That very day we were told that General Luders was going to visit
our camp. Jacob was doing sentry duty. Just then the suspicious
purveyor appeared suddenly, as if he had sprung out of the ground.
Jacob had his eye on him. Presently Jacob noticed that the fellow
was hiding behind a bank of earth; he saw him take out a pistol from
his pocket and aim it somewhere into space. That very moment
General Luders appeared on the grounds. Without thinking much,
Jacob aimed his gun at the purveyor and shot him dead. On
investigation, it turned out that the purveyor was a Pole, who had
smuggled himself into the camp in order to assassinate the General.

Then they began to gossip in the regiment about Jacob's "rising."
General Luders patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Bravo,
officer!"

A few days later I met Jacob: he looked pale and worn out. His
smile was more like the frozen smile of the agony of death. I told
him I had dreamt he was drowning in a river of oil. Then he told me
confidentially that he had promised his superiors to renounce his
faith.

Well, in the long run, it appeared that there was much truth in
Jacob's idea, that a Jew in exile must not accept favors from
Gentiles. And the temptation to which Jacob had been exposed was
certainly much harder to stand than a thousand lashes, or even, for
that matter, the whole bitter life of a Cantonist. The pity of it!

A few days later Zagrubsky was appointed to serve Jacob. But when
Zagrubsky reported for duty, Jacob dismissed him. It was against
Jacob's nature to have others do for him what he could do himself.

Zagrubsky departed, hissing "Zhid" under his breath. It was the way
he had treated me. My patience was gone. I put myself in his way,
stopped him and asked him: "Now listen, you Pollack, how do you come
to find out so quickly who is a Jew, and who is not? As far as I
can see, you cannot speak Russian correctly yourself: why, then, do
you spy on others? I have not yet forgotten that it was on account
of my tobacco that you recognized I was a Zhid, too."

"O, that is all very simple," said he. "I never saw such
lickspittles as the Jews are. They are always ready to oblige
others with their favors and refuse honors due to themselves. That
is why the authorities favor them so much. Do you wish to know what
a Jew is? A Jew is a spendthrift, a liar, a whip-kisser, a sneak.
He likes to be trampled on much more than others like to trample on
him. He makes a slave of himself in order to be able to enslave
everybody else. I hate the Jews, especially those from whom I ever
get any favors."

Well, by this time I am ready almost to agree with many of the
Pole's assertions. The Jew is very lavish in his dealings with
Gentiles. He is subservient, and always ready to give up what is
his due. All that is a puzzle to the Gentiles, and every Jew who
has been brought up and educated among them knows that as well as I
do. Sometimes they have a queer explanation for it. A gentile who
has ever tasted of Jewish kindness and unselfishness will say to
himself, "Very likely the Jew feels that he owes me much more."

To be brief: Zagrubsky and I became very much attached to each
other. But we never tried to disguise our feelings. I knew he was
my enemy, and he knew that I was repaying him in kind, with open
enmity. That was just what Zagrubsky liked. We loved our mutual
cordial hatred. When one feels like giving vent to his feelings,
like hating, cursing, or detesting somebody or something, one's
enemy becomes dearer than a hundred friends.

Then there came a certain day, and that day brought us closer
together for a moment, closer than we should ever be again. It
happened at night . . . . cursed be that night! swallowed up the
following day! . . . .

We soldiers had long become tired of our drill and our manoeuvres;
we got tired of "attacking" under the feint of a "retreat," and of
"retreating" under the feint of an "attack." We were disgusted with
standing in line and discharging our guns into the air, without ever
seeing the enemy. In our days a soldier hated feints and
make-believes. "Get at your enemy and crush his head, or lie down
yourself a crushed 'cadaver'"--that was our way of fighting, and
that was the way we won victories. As our general used to say: "The
bullet is a blind fool, but the bayonet is the real thing."

At last, at last, we heard the quick, nervous notes of the bugle,
and the hurried beats of the drum, the same we used to hear year in,
year out. But till that moment it was all "make-believe" drill. It
was like what we mean by the passage in the Passover Haggodah: "Any
one who is in need may come, and partake of the Passah-lamb. . . ."
Till that moment we used to attack the air with our bayonets and
pierce space right and left, "as if" the enemy had been before us,
ready for our steel. We were accustomed to pierce and to vanquish
the air and spirits, and that is all. At the same time there was
something wonderful, sweet, and terrible in those blasts of the
bugle, something that was the very secret of soldiery, something
that went right into our souls when we returned home from our drill.
. . .

But on that day it was not drill any more, and not make-believe any
more, no! Before us was the real enemy, looking into our very eyes
and thirsting for our blood.

Then, just for a moment I thought of myself, of my own flesh, which
was not made proof against the sharp steel. I remembered that I had
many an account to settle in this world; that I had started many a
thing and had not finished it; and that there was much more to
start. I thought of my own enemies, whom I had not harmed as yet.
I thought of my friends, to whom I had so far done no good. In
short, I thought I was just in the middle of my lifework, and that
the proper moment to die had not yet come. But all that came as a
mere flash. For in the line of battle my own self was dissolved, as
it were, and was lost, just like the selves of all who were there.
I became a new creature with new feelings and a new consciousness.
But the thing cannot be described: one has to be a soldier and stand
in the line of battle to feel it. You may say, if you like, that I
believe that the angel-protectors of warring nations descend from on
high, and in the hour of battle enter as new souls into the soldiers
of the line.

Then and there an end came also to the vicissitudes of my Barker. I
found him dead, stretched out at full length on a bank of earth,
which was the monument over the grave of the heroes of the first
day's fighting. In the morning they all went to battle in the full
flowering of strength and thirsty for victory, only to be dragged
down at night into that hole, to be buried there. Well, the earth
knows no distinction between one race and another; its worms feed
alike on Jew and Gentile. But there, in Heaven, they surely know
the difference between one soul and another, and each one is sent to
its appointed place.

I was told that Jacob was among those buried in the common grave.
Quite likely. I whispered a Kaddish over the grave, giving it the
benefit of the doubt.

Of course, I was not foolish enough to cry over the cadaver of a
dog; and yet it was a pity. After all, it was a living creature,
too; it had shared all kinds of things with me: exile, hunger,
rations, blows. And it had loved me, too. . . .

The next morning we were out again. In a moment line faced line,
man faced man, enemy faced enemy. It was a mutual murderous
attraction, a bloodthirsty love, a desire to embrace and to kill.

It was very much like the pull I felt towards Marusya.

. . . . Lightening. . . . shots. . . . thunder. . . . The talk of
the angel-protectors it is. . . . Snakes of fire flying upward,
spreading out . . . . shrapnel . . . . bombs a-bursting . . . .
soldiers standing . . . . reeling . . . . falling . . . . crushed,
or lapping their own blood. . . . Thinning lines . . . . breast to
breast. . . . Hellish howls over the field. . . .

Crashing comes the Russian music, drowning all that hellish chorus,
pouring vigor, might, and hope into the hearts of men. . . .

Alas, the music breaks off. . . . Where is the bugle? . . . . The
trumpet is silenced. . . . The trombone breaks off in the middle of
a note. . . . Only one horn is left. . . . Higher and higher rise
its ringing blasts, chanting, as it were, "Yea, thought I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for
Thou art with me!"

In mighty embrace men clasp one another. . . . Stabbing, being
stabbed . . . . killing, being killed. . . . .

I work away right and left, I expect my death-blow at every moment,
but I seem to be charmed: swords and bayonets surround me, but never
touch me. . . .

Yes, it was a critical moment; it could not last much longer; one
side had to give way.

But the Russians could not retreat, because in their very midst the
priest was standing, the ikon of the Virgin in one hand and the
crucifix in the other.

The soldiers looked at the images, got up new courage, and did
wonders.

Do you remember the Biblical story of the brazen serpent? That was
just like it.

Well, a bullet came flying, whistling, through the air, and the
priest fell. Then the ikon and the crucifix began to wobble this
way and that way, and fell down, too. The soldiers saw it, lost
heart, and wanted to run.

At that moment I felt as if I were made of three different men.

Just imagine: Samuel the individual, Samuel the soldier, and Samuel
the Jew.

Says Samuel the individual: "You have done well enough, and it is
all over for now. Run for dear life."

Says Samuel the soldier: "Shame on you, where is your bravery? The
regimental images are falling. Try, perhaps they may be saved yet."

Says Samuel the Jew: "Of course, save; for a Jew must ever do more
than is expected of him."

But Samuel the individual replies: "Do you remember how many lashes
you have suffered on account of these very images?"

Says Samuel the Jew again: "Do you know what these images are, and
to what race they belong?"

Many such thoughts flashed through my brain; but it was all in a
moment. And in a moment I was at the side of the priest. He was
alive; he was only wounded in his hand. I raised him to his feet,
put the images into his hands, lifted them up, and supported them.

"This way, Russians!"

I do not know who shouted these words. Perhaps I did; perhaps some
one else; perhaps it was from Heaven.

However, the victory was ours.

But I did not remain on my feet a long time; a bullet struck me, and
I fell. . . . .

What happened then, I cannot tell. All I know is that I dreamt
something very agreeable: I was a little boy again, hanging on to
my father's coat-tails, and standing beside him in the Klaus on a
Yom-Kippur even, during the most tearful prayers, and a mischievous
little boy began to play with me, pricking my leg with a needle
every now and then. . . .

When I came to my senses, I found myself in a sea of howls, groans,
and cries, which seemed to be issuing from the very depths of the
earth. For a moment I thought I was in purgatory, among the sinners
who undergo punishment. But pretty soon I recognized everything. I
turned my head, and saw Zagrubsky lying near me, wounded and
groaning. He looked at me, and there was love and hatred mixed in
that look. "Zhid," said he, with his last breath, and gave up the
ghost.

Rest in peace, thou beloved enemy of mine!

From behind I heard someone groaning and moaning; but the voice
sounded full and strong. I turned my head in the direction of the
voice, and I saw that Serge Ivanovich was lying on his side and
moaning. He looked around, stood up for a while, and lay down
again. This manoeuvre he repeated several times in succession. You
see, the rascal was scheming to his own advantage. He knew very
well that in the end he would have to fall down and groan for good.
So he thought it was much cheaper and wiser to do it of his own free
will, than to wait for something to throw him down. The scamp had
seen what I had done before I fell. A thought came to him. He
helped me to my feet, bandaged my wound, and said:

"Now listen, Samuel: you have certainly done a very great thing; but
it is worth nothing to you personally. Nay, worse: they might again
try to make you renounce your faith. So it is really a danger to
you. But, if you wish, just say that I have done it, and I shall
repay you handsomely for it. The priest will not know the
difference."

Well, it is this way: I always hated get-rich-quick schemes. I
never cared a rap for a penny I had not expected and was not ready
to earn. Take, for instance, what I did with the priest: Did I
ever expect any honors or profits out of it? Such possible honors
and profits I certainly did not like, and did not look for.
Besides, who could assure me that they would not try again to coax
me into renouncing my faith? Why, then, should I put myself into
such trouble? And I said to Serge:

"You want it badly, Serge, do you? You'd like to see yourself
promoted, to be an officer? Is that so? Very well, then. Make out
a paper assigning the house to Marusya."

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