Lessons

Taught by Katrina Leuger, Josef trains to be a servant. He also learns how to read and write.

Chapter Three

                                                Lessons

 

Pani Dombrowska seethed.  Ignaz had allowed the Krivanek b*****d into her house. When told that Fraulein Leuger would assume control of her household she erupted. Blows from Ignaz and his reminding her that her fine way of life depended upon Die Eule's favours did not subdue her. She returned the blows and packed herself and her daughters off to her mother's house in Krakow.  Ignaz consoled himself with a maid. Control over the other servants he passed to Katrina. Peace restored, Katrina began to prepare Josef for Marienberg.

Cleanliness came first. Frederick found nothing more offensive than the stench of an unclean body.  Josef had to be clean. He learned how to mix toothpaste and how to brush his teeth.  He studied hair combing and the cleaning and paring of his nails. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand or shirt sleeve was replaced with a handkerchief. Every evening he had to bathe. Dinner would come only after he passed inspection. Katrina also introduced him to the proper use of the lavatory. At Maminka's and at Milos' one just went outside. In this great house one treated their natural body functions with far more ceremony. This included remembering to flush after one finished. It took two weeks of constant reminding before Josef got into the unthinking habit of pulling the chain.

Mealtime manners at Maminka's had consisted of grabbing whatever was available before someone else could take it. With Milos Josef simply ate whatever the pig keeper left.  These methods had disadvantages but they also had advantages.  No one said prayers before eating. Utensils were easy to handle or to ignore. No one cared how you sat. Picking at or scratching different parts of the anatomy went unnoticed as did loud noises. Dining for the first time with Katrina and Ferdie, Josef grabbed for a bread roll. A quarter-inch thick leather strap slammed against the back of his hand.

“Eat like an animal,” said Katrina, placing the strap back on her lap, “you become like an animal. If you do not ask, you do not get.”

By the end of the first week Josef had made enough progress to allow Katrina to move onto his duties as a body servant. He learned how to clean a room, how to brush and lay out clothes and how to blacken boots. He even mastered the art of standing still without twitching or scratching himself. 

              At the end of every day Katrina wrote out a detailed report describing Josef's progress. Every week she posted her reports to Marienberg. At the end of the third week a slight deviation appeared in her reports.

In the third week Josef began his writing lessons. As any other teacher would, Katrina started with the alphabet. She wrote out and sounded each letter  taking the mystified boy from  A through to Z Using a primer that belonged to a Dombrowski girl she began with A for "apfel". His tongue sticking out from the left side of his mouth, Josef drew the letter in a crude scrawl. He then recited what he had drawn.

Identifying the letters was easy.  The "A" looked like a stepladder over a fence but what did it mean? How did the picture of the apple concern the strange marks under it?  He still wondered as he went to bed.

At breakfast after considerable hesitation and chewing of his bottom lip Josef dropped a piece of paper on Katrina's plate. On it he had drawn a cat. Underneath the cat he had printed, CAT. THE CAT IS BLACK.

A good piece of copying, Katrina thought. She thanked him, praised his artwork and thought nothing more of it until the writing lesson came. Opening the primer at the page for C she looked at the words underneath the picture of the cat.

A CAT. THE CAT IS WHITE.

On the opposite page she saw the picture of a dog.  Under it she read:

A DOG. THE DOG IS BLACK.

“Josef.”

His pen poised, Josef looked up at the unsmiling face of his teacher. “Yes, miss?”

“That was a good picture that you gave me.”

Josef felt proud.  He had done something well. “Thank you, Miss.  I can do some more, if you like?”

“Yes, I would. Draw a picture of a dog please. Give it a name. Any name that you like.”

As she watched him draw Katrina removed his primer.  She then busied herself with sharpening a pen nib. When Josef announced that he was done Katrina took the picture. He had drawn a dog similar to the one in the primer. Underneath he had printed, A DOG. MAX. She made him do another picture, a house.  “Not this house. Your father's house.”

Katrina scolded herself for being foolish. What did it matter if Josef knew a few tricks of memory?  Understanding was the key. Josef could not have learned to read and write in so short a time.

Underneath the square and triangle that represented a house Josef had written, THE HOUSE OF MY FATHER.

Katrina flipped through the primer.  She found the word father on page twelve, the word house on page sixteen. Ripping out from the copybook the pictures Josef had drawn, she tossed them into the fireplace. Katrina picked up the strap. “Josef. Stand up.”

Puzzled, disappointed and a bit angry Josef rose. He had tried his best but it seemed, as with Milos that with Fraulein Katrina, his best would never be enough.

“Who taught you to read?” she asked.

“You did, Miss.”

“I mean . . . before.”

Katrina could feel herself becoming flustered. Karl would not have approved.

“Before?" Josef asked. "No one, miss.”

“Don't lie to me. Hold out your hands.”

Josef gulped but obeyed. The shaking hands waited for the strap.

Katrina knew what she had to do, but the memory of the bruises that had covered Josef's arms and legs clawed at her.  The strap remained poised above his hands. “I will repeat the question. I will accept no more lies. Who taught you to read?”

Josef lowered his head. He had failed her, as he had failed Milos, as he had failed Maminka. “No one,” he murmured.

  Katrina lowered the strap. Reason with him, she told herself. Show him that his lies could not fool her. “How can it be no one? You've used the word house from page sixteen. We haven't read that yet, so when did you read it before? Well?”

“Please, Miss. Last night?”

“What?”

“If you please, miss. I wanted to finish it so I read it all last night. I didn't know that was wrong.”

Katrina stared at him.  “I  . . . I don't believe you Josef. You are nasty and deceitful. We punish children who tell lies. Do you know that?”

“Yes miss.”

Katrina placed the strap on the desk.  She handed him the primer. “Read it. Aloud.”

“Yes miss. Please miss, which page?”

“All of it.”

Josef swallowed and began. He stumbled through the book. Katrina helped him pronounce some of the more difficult words but apart from that listened as he worked his way through the text.  When he finished he asked, “Was it all right, miss?”

The only reply was silence. Then Katrina stammered out, “it    . . . it was very good, Josef. We will do our copying now, the letter D today.”

Josef bent over his work. Katrina pressed her hands against her forehead. She considered what had to be done. Karl would have to know.  He had chosen Josef on the assumption that he possessed the mind of an idiot.  Karl would not like to proven wrong. At the very least he would return Josef to Milos. Enraged at the loss of his monthly income Milos would vent that rage on the boy. How long could Josef hope to survive the subsequent beatings? Yet how could Karl not know? The longer Josef stayed with them, the more evident it would become that Josef was not what he should be. Soon, it would become impossible for Karl to let him go. 

That night, when writing her report Katrina noted when referring to reading and writing he shows little promise here. Finished she rose to check on Josef. She found him sitting up in bed, copying lessons from the primer.

“Josef, let me have the books.”

“Please miss. I'm almost finished.”

“Are you defying me?”

“No Miss.”

“You need to sleep. Give them to me.”

Reluctantly he handed her the books.

“You don't have to study so hard, Josef,” she told him, cradling the books. “It's not necessary.”

“But I have to.”

“Why? Why do you have to? I never said so.”

“I want . . .” His voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper “I want him to like me.”

“Who?”

“The baron. He is my lord, isn't he?”

“Yes.”

“If he likes me, I won't have to come back here, will I?”

                              Katrina's fingers pressed against the book. She granted him a tentative smile. “He will like you Josef, if you obey.  Now, it is time to sleep.”

                As she watched him snuggle beneath the blankets she longed to tell him that demonstrating stupidity, not intelligence, was a better defence. Instead she blew out the candle and closed the door.  Later that night she rose to use the water closet. As she passed by Josef's door she noticed light shining underneath it.  She opened the door to find him asleep a picture book beside his outstretched hand. She picked it up, closed it, again blew out the candle and left him to his dreams.

Katrina stood alone in the darkened hallway. She thought of turning back, of telling him to run, but run where? She had told Josef the truth. Frederick would like him. Was that so bad, to be with someone who liked him? Should he go back to that monster of a father? He had no life in this village. In Marienberg he could find a life; at least, for a while.  After that . . .After that came America She had to think of America. Nothing else mattered. Tonight she would dream of America. Again she would imagine herself a fine lady walking the streets of New York.

Josef did not even know that America existed. One could not miss what one did not know. It would only make him unhappy. Then what? Karl would not keep him if he could not do his work. Four weeks remained in which to teach him. That would be difficult enough without burdening him with knowledge he could neither use nor understand.

When Josef began his writing lesson the following morning, Katrina told him to turn to the first page of his copybook. She placed a pen, ink bottle and a fresh sheaf of writing paper on the desk beside the copybook.

“You will practice writing your name today just as you did it here.”

                She pointed at the crude scrawl that represented Josef's first attempt at writing his name.

Josef began to write, his pen moving with confident strokes.  Katrina placed her hand over his, stopping the pen. “No Josef. Write the way you wrote before.”

“But I can write much better now.”

“That's not what I want. You will do it this way.”

“Why?” Josef could not see the sense in it. Learning was about doing things better, not worse.

“Because that is the way Herr Radek and Baron Von Kraunitz want it. Do you wish to displease them, Josef?”

“No, but . . .”

“You want to understand?”

“Yes, miss.”

“No one wants you to understand. That is what you have to understand.”

“But ...”

“Your duty is to obey, Josef. Who rules the empire?”

Josef frowned. How did that relate to his writing? “Emperor Ferdinand.”

“Good. Who chose him?”

Josef had never heard that question before. “I don't know. He was just born, I guess.”

“God chose him. Only God has the right to tell him how to rule. God rules Austria through the emperor and the church through our holy father the pope. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but why can't I learn to write any better?”

“Do you tell the emperor how to rule?”

“No.”

“Do you tell the pope how to govern the church?”

“No.” Josef envisioned the might of the Imperial army reinforced by hosts of angels all marching against him for daring to improve his handwriting.

“The pope and emperor are subject to the will of God. You and I and Herr Radek are under the will of his Excellency the baron. We are bound to serve him, just as he is bound to serve God. We are all servants of God, whether our roles are large or small.”

“Yes but why can't I write better?”

“Because that is what your lord wishes. You do not have to understand Josef, just obey. You do want him to like you, don't you?”

“Yes, miss.”

“You will do everything that I tell you to, whether you understand it or not. Now, copy out your name until you fill both sides of the paper. You will do it that way every time you write your name. You will also read only those books I give you to read. If I find you reading anything else I will have you strapped.”

“Yes miss. Sorry, miss.”

Josef picked up the pen and began to write, Katrina watching every stroke.

                    ***

Two weeks before leaving for Marienberg Katrina received a book. A copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales, a maid had found it hidden under Josef's mattress. As she had been instructed, the maid gave the book to Katrina. Katrina decided to deal with Josef after dinner. The punishment would not interfere with his studies or his appetite. She called him into Pan Dombrowski's office. On the desk she had placed the book. Next to it lay the strap. She showed him the book and then gave him ten strokes, five on each hand. She had him toss the book into the fire. After he had finished she asked him why he had disobeyed her.

Josef, almost belligerent, accepted the punishment but not the reason for it. As he watched the pages burn, he could feel the flames searing him. “I want to know more stories. You're my teacher. Why can't you teach me?”

“The first thing you have to learn is obedience. Without that, everything else is useless.”

“Just a little more, please”

“You will learn when you are ready. Not before.  You will never be ready if you don't learn to obey. A little more will lead to more. It will never stop unless you stop it here. I will have no more lies, no more deceit. Another incident and I  . . . I will send you back to your father. Is that what you want?”

Josef's defiance evaporated.  “No, miss.  I am sorry, miss.”

“ We shall speak no more of this. Now go to bed."

Katrina watched him leave, slump-shouldered and defeated.  Turning to the stove she watched through the grill as the remains of the book turned into ash. At least she could get him away from this place. Then? America waited for herself, for Karl and her child. For Josef?  If she could find a way to take him, he might like her then. Yet she knew only one way. Then it would not be affection that he would feel for her, not even the grudging, stingy warmth that Karl offered, nor the familiar contempt from her brothers. Josef would hate her.  She pulled her shawl up around her shoulders. Even the fire could not drive away the chill gripping her. She hated Jablunka, but the thought of leaving for Marienberg only deepened the chill.

                 

                                                                                      

Author's Note

Some use of German and Czech.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for sharing the amazing story. I did enjoy and I will return later and read some more. Please send read requests. I try to read everyone.
Coyote