Читать книгу Against the Current: Simple Chapters from a Complex Life - Edward Alfred Steiner - Страница 6

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UP to my fifth year I did not know that I was not like my playmates. Democratic, as all children are, I played with the boys and girls belonging to the peasant families living in our neighbourhood. I visited them in their wretched and ill-smelling homes, and was eager to help them with their field work, but was often carried away bodily by my older sisters, who could not understand why I should behead cabbages for the cross-eyed, drunken day-labourer whose son Martin was my age and my boon companion. I assisted in many a pig killing, much to the disgust of my wiser and race-conscious brothers and sisters, and at one time I ate a piece of pork. I realized that it must have been a dreadful thing to do when I had my mouth washed with strong soap. Once I was caught chewing a piece of bacon rind which I carried in my pocket, and the punishment was so severe that for a long time I found it inconvenient to sit down. I never cultivated a distaste for pork, and in later years I heard my elder sister say that she believed this was due to the fact that I had been vaccinated with virus taken from the arm of a Gentile boy and that my blood became contaminated.

Be that as it may, I always enjoyed the society of the Gentile boys and girls. In the spring, I made whistles with them, and I knew the Slavic chant which would evolve a sweet-toned instrument from a willow twig. I even made willow switches at Easter time and went about with the Gentile boys who were bought off from beating the girls, by their gifts of coloured eggs.

At the tender age of six, the boy, to whom I was related by vaccination, became a “Mendic,” that is, a helper in the household of the Lutheran pastor. He rang the bells for church and carried the cross at funerals. For these services he received his schooling free and such board as fell from the pastor’s table. I think I rang the bells for Christian worship as often as he rang them. Once I polished the communion set, pumped the organ for the schoolmaster many a time, and took my full share of those pleasant tasks, as behooves one who finds that his brother has too much to do, even if he be a brother only by vaccination.

I recall delightful springs at that period, when I went far a-field with the Gentile boys; and when everything had its young I followed a flock of geese and goslings to the meadow, in the centre of which stood a Roman Catholic chapel shaded by a huge beech tree. The girl who had charge of the geese, and whose assistant I became, although older, was also in that blissful state of race unconsciousness—and did not know that she, a Magyar and a Roman Catholic, was different from me.

The boys teased me for going to the meadow with the girl, but as I recall it now it was the fluffy little goslings that drew me after her, although it may have been the girl, for I early developed a liking for the opposite sex.

I did some mild gambling with buttons; marbles had either not been invented or had not yet penetrated into our stage of civilization. I also remember getting myself red all over with brick dust; for there was a game, not unknown in this country, I believe, which required the cutting of six cubes out of brick and then carefully polishing them by means of a flat stone and the free application of saliva.

I am not sure that the Gentile children who played with me were as unconscious of their race and religion as I was, or that they were unconscious of my own. I suspect that as they were usually a little older than I, they knew more than I knew, and that some of them, at least, served me for the “loaves and fishes.” I had a ten o’clock breakfast of bread and butter—a huge slice from a loaf of rye bread more than half as large as a wagon wheel and spread thick with sweet butter and a few kernels of coarse salt. The Gentile boys had big mouths and big appetites and they never had a second breakfast of bread and butter.

Many a time I was caught purloining Sabbath cakes which I carried among the unholy Gentile groups of children who, although they may have been ignorant of my Jewish faith, were very conscious that the food which came from my home had a peculiarly delicate flavour unknown in the coarse fare to which they were accustomed.

I suffered much because of my friendly attitude towards these unbelievers, and one day, for so small an offense as dividing all the Sabbath apple cake among my confrères, I received such a severe beating from my older brother, whose temper was quick, whose hand was strong and whose aim was unerring, that I decided to run away from home. Sobbing from anger and pain, I ran through the garden, across the bridge, into the street in which the barns were located and out upon the highway leading to the town of Maria’s Bosom, a place of pilgrimage for devout Catholics and of more than local fame.

It was the season for pilgrimages, the harvest being over, and I had not walked far enough to repent of my rash decision when I heard the solemn chant of pilgrims. Stepping aside to let them pass, I discovered that they were our townsfolk who were going to pay their annual visit to the Mother of God at Maria’s Bosom. Staff in hand, old and young passed me, solemnly singing hymns to the Virgin. I suppose there were more than four hundred pilgrims. I was standing under some lilac bushes and was not noticed. Following the marchers were several wagons which carried the aged and infirm, the children and the provisions. On one of the wagons sat the goose girl, the black-eyed Magyar maiden with whom I was supposed to be in love.

“Come,” she called when she saw me, “come and visit the Mother of God.” With some difficulty I climbed onto the high wagon and sat down beside my comrade; and neither she nor I knew that it was wrong for me to go on a visit to the Mother of God at Maria’s Bosom.