Jacob's Ladder

20 From the Willow Chest

Jacob’s Letter to Marusya Volunteer Ossetsky

(1911–1912) KIEV–MOSCOW

SEPTEMBER 6, 1912

My sweet wife! My treasure! Instead of the tender words that are heaped up inside me since our parting, I’m going to pour out my heart to you. Being together is the only natural and right situation for us. The scrutiny of family members, my parents, relatives, and acquaintances was always dispiriting to me. But our relations exist somewhere beyond all the stuff of daily life, the trivial bickering and disputes, mutual annoyances that are so unpleasant to me. It’s different with us—such banality is impossible. Never before has fate put such a hard choice in front of me as the one I face now; but without your approval I can do nothing. Our future depends on this.

Perhaps you are not aware that the Kiev Commercial Institute is the first of its kind in Russia, very advanced. When it was established as an institution of higher learning six years ago, quotas were not observed. As a result, almost 60 percent of the current students are of Jewish descent. We have to keep in mind that the Kievan Jewish community donates large sums to the Institute, which is why the administration agreed to educate Jewish young people. This little historical sketch concerns me, too, because I am one of these 60 percent. In a word, this shortcoming in the regulations is being redressed this year, and the usual quota for educational institutions, a Jewish enrollment of not more than 5 percent, has been introduced. Jews are faced with a choice—either convert to Christianity or enroll merely as auditors. Last year, I came out first in my department, and transferring my status to that of auditor, going to lectures and waiting to see whether there is an opening, and competing for this with Jewish students like myself, would be degrading. It’s especially painful now, when I have a good chance of getting a master’s degree in commercial studies upon graduation. I had a talk with Professor Pogorelsky about the possibility of teaching in the future, which appeals to me much more than the practical application of the degree that my father favors.

The other option, that of conversion, is even more humiliating. You and I have touched on this subject many times before—how living in an Orthodox country, surrounded by its culture, we have come to love Orthodoxy, to sympathize with it. I have spoken to you about my basic religious views. The Ten Commandments passed down by God to Moses are also the foundation of Christianity. The figure of Christ inspires even more sympathy, as one of the most revered heroes of history, of culture. But I do not accept his divine origin. The Son of Man—this is how he referred to himself. As are all the rest of us, Jews first and foremost, and through them all others who have accepted the Commandments in some form or other. The prospect of being baptized is still more humiliating than transferring my status from student to auditor. Formal philosophical and religious considerations aside, there are many issues I haven’t been able to resolve concerning my worldview; but no religion, neither Judaism, nor Christianity, nor the Chinese religion, has played a major role in building it. This kind of coerced baptism would be pure opportunism.

As for my own personal views, I am most likely agnostic. Although these notions (gnosticism and agnosticism) are rather confused, they are not diametrically opposed. If gnostics consider the world to be ultimately knowable, and agnostics think the world is not, I choose Gnosis itself as my God, which undoes the contradiction. This means that I am prepared to pursue knowledge and wisdom my whole life without hope for the possibility of attaining it. Of course, all these ideas are far more sophisticated than the practical decision I now face, but it’s impossible for me not to take them into consideration. And the price one pays for one’s education, even such a practical branch as I have chosen, cannot be subject to compromise. I have already made my decision. I am withdrawing from the Institute.

I have written about my decision to Genrikh. The opinion of my elder brother is far more important to me than that of my father in this matter. But his response will not arrive anytime soon, and the decision has already been made. I don’t know whether he will support me in it. This year Genrikh’s younger sister Anyuta was sent to Switzerland to study in a medical college in Zürich. I can’t even dream of the possibility of going to Germany to study.

But about my withdrawal. I can’t make my final decision without your input, because you are my wife, and if my long-term plans don’t coincide with yours, I have to find another solution. Such a long-winded forewarning was due to the fact that I am afraid of revealing my plan to you, knowing beforehand how hard it will be for you to reconcile yourself to it. I have decided to enlist in the army as a volunteer. Don’t be upset, don’t faint, don’t despair. I’ll explain: This one-year (or two-year) term of military service will allow me to re-enroll in the Institute. Then I will be able to complete my studies in economics, to support a family, and to enjoy all the advantages of a happy marriage. The final decision rests with you alone. I give you the Roman right of veto.

I’ve already devised a plan for the coming months, and taken the first steps in preparation for my withdrawal. I took my German exam, fulfilling the requirements for the whole course. I also took my exams in trade and industrial law in advance. I am getting ready to take my English exam ahead of schedule. I’ll pass it easily. It’s not as hard as German, although the pronunciation is difficult. I read King Lear for the exam. Shakespeare’s language is archaic, so I had to make a glossary; but the differences between the original English and the Russian translations are enormous! It’s very satisfying to examine the differences. Kanshin’s version is the best; it’s a prose translation. Compare Kanshin’s translation with this passage in English: “Thou art the thing itself. Unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings!”

In short, the original is stronger, more energetic, than the translation.

I would translate it like this: “You, abject man, are but a poor, naked two-legged animal! Begone, begone, superfluous attire!”

You see? Whenever I talk to you about pragmatic matters, I always have the urge to share my literary musings.

One or two years in the army—that’s exactly what it’s about. I’ll be living among “poor forked animals”—not “bare,” however, but wearing army coats. I must admit that I feel oppressed by my dependence on Papa, who is paying for my education. After two years of army service, I will most likely achieve financial independence.

I understand the sacrifices that you will have to make. It means that we will not be united for another one or two years. I will understand if you say no. I can’t demand that you agree to this delay. But I am also sacrificing what I have always considered to be the most sacred thing for me—music. My musical education is in a bad state. The history of music, music theory, the foundations of composition—all this I can work through on my own. I have a knack for learning from literature. But reading books is a poor substitute for making real music, listening to music, and interacting with others in a musical environment. And this will not be available to me in the army.

The final decision rests with you, Marusya. If you object to my serving in the army, I will abandon the idea. Going to work in a commercial office would be an even greater trial for me than spending two years in the army. I leave the decision in your hands. I kiss those incomparably wonderful hands, and do not dare to encroach any further.

—Jacob