Father Szákaly’s arrival caused a sensation in the garrison. The sight of the old priest in a white surplice, worn over a long black coat—neither frock-coat nor uniform—was extraordinary. On both sleeves there were three gold straps. The purple stole did not cover the officer’s stiff collar. He wore an officer’s cap when off duty, but he was now bare-headed. The priest was accompanied by a moustachioed Honvéd, also wearing a surplice, bearing a lit lantern. But without a bell.
It was late afternoon and the garrison was completing its military activities and the men, although they were hungry, were not hurrying to the mess. Curiosity prevailed over hunger. Almost everyone in the square before the command post crossed themselves and kneeled; and those who did not kneel removed their caps and stood to attention.
Although the Regulations contained a “Kneel to pray” command, Regimental Sergeant-Major Bachmatiuk considered that in the army kneeling only makes sense when an infantry division is firing in two rows. The first row kneels, and the second, behind them, fires in a standing position. So he removed his cap, but stepped back inside the gateway and went upstairs to his room.
The priest, carrying a white chequered pouch containing the viaticum was conducted to the sick-bay by the adjutant, Lieutenant Baron Hammerling. Dr Badian discreetly retreated to his office adjoining the sick-bay. He had previously instructed Glück to prepare several balls of cotton wool. Father Szákaly sat down on the patient’s bed behind the Chinese screen. He made the sign of the cross over Łeś and heard his confession, of which he did not understand a word. And Łeś kept beating his breast and confessing in such a loud voice that Father Szákaly gestured to him to speak quietly, because he could be heard by other patients. Indeed, they heard him continually crying out “Forgive me! Forgive me!” and they could hear how frequently the words “brother, brother’s wife” occurred in the confession… Łeś continued to beat his chest. He did so with such force that the priest wondered how the dying man could summon up such strength. Evidently, the merciful God himself gave him the strength to help cleanse the soul of its sins. They must have been dire sins, since Łeś Nedochodiuk took so long to confess. The priest thought these sins were resisting, that they were unwilling to emerge from Łeś’s soul. Łeś was suffering like a woman in difficult childbirth. Father Szákaly, observing how painful it was for the dying Hutsul to “give birth” to his sins, sought to assist him. Forgetting that the repentant man did not understand Hungarian, he whispered something in his ear in that language and the dialogue proceeded for a few moments in this fashion, yet another consequence of the unfortunate attempted construction described in the Old Testament.
Exhausted by this extraordinary confession, Father Szákaly recognized that enough was enough, that the repentant man had already cleansed his soul of the sins that oppressed him. But he did not stem the flow of incomprehensible words and Łeś’s voice weakened, his words turning to an incomprehensible mumbling. The confessor seemed to notice an expression of relief on Łeś’s face, which was covered with perspiration, and he gave him a sign that it was enough. The evidence of his repentance was all too visible. In view of that, Father Szákaly lit the candles on the table and began preparing Łeś’s soul for the Particular Judgement Court and the Last Judgment. First he forgave him all his sins in a language that neither Łeś nor his countrymen, nor Father Szákaly’s Honvéds understood. It was incomprehensible even to some of the officers, especially the professional ones trained in military academies. Dr Badian alone would have understood it, if he had been present:
Misereatur tui omnipotens Deus, et dimissis peccatis tuis, perducat te ad vitam aeternam. Amen.
Then Father Szákaly administered Holy Communion to Łeś and with cotton balls dipped in holy oil he anointed his eyelids, nostrils, lips, palms, loins and the outside of the arches of his feet.
Reserve Militiaman Łeś Nedochodiuk could now die in peace.
As to whether it was for the Emperor or just for himself alone, so far history remains silent.
About the Author
JÓZEF WITTLIN was born in 1896 and served in the Austro-Hungarian army during the First World War. His experiences inspired him to write The Salt of the Earth. Published in 1935 to great success, it received the Polish National Academy Prize, won Wittlin a nomination for the Nobel Prize, and has since been translated into 14 languages. Wittlin was also a translator and poet, penning numerous essays such as ‘My Lwów’, included in City of Lions, also published by Pushkin Press. With the outbreak of the Second World War he fled to France and then to New York, where he died in 1976.
Copyright
Pushkin Press
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London, WC2H 9JQ
First published as Sól ziemi in Warsaw, 1935
© 1937 Verlag Allert de Lange, Amsterdam. Translated from the Polish by I. Bermann, revised by Marianne Seeger
© 1969 S Fischer Verlag GmbH, Frankfurt am Main
English translation © Patrick John Corness 2018
First translated into English by Pauline de Chary and published in New York by Sheridan House, 1941
This translation first published by Pushkin Press in 2018
