XIV THE CANDY-MAKER’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY

“MAN, Know Thyself.

“I am not writing this because I ever expect any man to read it; if I were not so sure of that, I would not write so frankly as I do. Even as it is, I am not sure that I am going to tell everything about myself, for to be frank with one’s self is very hard.

“I was born in a small village in Northern Bohemia. My father was a shoemaker, who had travelled a great deal as a journeyman. He spoke a broken German and, of course, the Czechish. He always smelled of alcohol, tobacco and leather. When he was sober he was gloomy, and if any one made a noise or displeased him in the least, he would grow angry and throw a boot or a last at him. When he was drunk he was jovial, sang lustily and was very affectionate. At such times my mother submitted to his embraces, but as soon as I was strong enough to run away from him, I ran; for his vile smell offended me. I think he loved me—in some such fashion as a man loves a dog, and it offended him because I would not be fondled by him.

“There is no such thing as natural affection; I certainly did not love my father. My mother I pitied. She was always bearing children—children she did not want—and not one of us ever thanked her for bringing him into the world.

“What men call love is lust,—what women call love is the natural desire for offspring.

“I was nine years of age when I got drunk. My father ordered me to drink and I drank as much as he wanted me to. When I got sober I hated my father for I knew he had wronged my nature; but I craved drink and I pretended to love him. He taught me that the Germans were the enemies of the Czechs, and that I must hate them. He gave me a glass of beer for throwing a stone into a German house. He told me that the Jews killed our God and that they were cursed by God for doing it. He gave me a glass of beer for taking pig’s blood and marking crosses on the doors of the Jews.

“It is a poor God who lets Himself be crucified and a poorer God who curses His children.

“At twelve I was apprenticed to a baker. For a whole year I carried the baker’s baby and did the drudgery of the household. The second year I carried rolls and bread from house to house and to the inns. I cheated the baker whenever I could. He gave me four kreutzers on Sunday for spending money. I needed more and got it. I was as honest as he.

“This is the refuge of criminals and while it is not a safe one as far as the law is concerned, it is a good salve for one’s conscience. At sixteen I went on the road, ostensibly looking for work, but I was looking at life. I discovered that the Germans, whom my father had told me to hate, had been taught by their fathers to hate me. Patriotism is an artificial virtue.

“At Bamberg I was thrown into jail, and a common woman was arrested with me. When I came out of jail she was waiting for me. She gave me a pocketbook with five marks in it. She had stolen it—for me. I did not take it and I did not go with her. She wept and tore her hair; she said she loved me.

“A harlot who sells herself for money to many men is no worse than the woman who sells herself to one man.

“I did not go with her because I could not match her devotion. After all, there is something in love; it sobered me.

“I went to work with a Jewish baker. He did not get drunk and he did not beat his wife; when he looked at her his face beamed and he was kind to her always. She was sick and he carried her to her bed as if she were a baby—her body was shrivelled. It wasn’t lust he felt, perhaps it was pity. He told me she had been sick since their only child was born. Miriam was sixteen years of age and pity does not last sixteen years. It must have been something better than pity.

“Miriam was growing into womanhood. It seemed that every day I saw her she grew lovelier. Yet I never thought about her body; it was her mind. She taught me how to read German—she opened the doors of a new world to me. We read many good books together. She told me to go to the theatre. I saw Romeo and Juliet.

“It was not Miriam’s mind after all—it was something else. I know it was not her body—I desired something more. I loved her.

“I spoke to her father—he told me that I could not marry her for I was a Christian. I went to the rabbi. I wanted to be a Jew so I could marry her.

“It is hard to get into Judaism. I wonder whether it is hard to get out?

“A little drop of water makes a man a Christian no matter what he was. The Jews want blood.

“I was willing to give it but the baker journeymen heard about it and I was called before the guild. They drowned my love with beer. They awakened the beast within me. I became like my father—‘Bestia Sum.’

“In the year 1865 war broke out and I, as an Austrian subject, was sent across the border. I was drafted into the army and taught how to kill the Prussians. That was all I seemed good for, and I did it as fast as the Prussians would let me. They had better guns and were sober; they had generals, we had the Hapsburghs.

“The Hapsburghs said, ‘Let them come in,’ and the generals came. Then the Hapsburghs said: ‘We’ll drive them out,’ but they didn’t. This was our last stand and we capitulated. I have stayed here ever since.

“I have capitulated to the Germans, to force and to reason. I shall never capitulate to the priest and to the church.”

But he did.