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University Life [120] On University Life: The Memoirs of Vladimir Osipovich Garkavy Vladimir Osipovich Garkavy, “Otryvki vospominanii,” Perezhitoe 4 (1913): 275–87. At last, the question of my entering the university was settled.1 My dream turned into a reality. Preparations for the trip commenced: Mother and my sisters prepared the linens with an air of concentration. Father looked on my future with pride and hope; it was as though the ideals of his youth, his striving for education and enlightenment, had converged in me. I was one of the first to depart for university from that milieu to which my father belonged—the intellectual and religious aristocracy. Preparations for the trip and furnishing me with the necessary items took on a patriarchal character. They supplied me with a warm, heavy overcoat, warm boots, and even a sheepskin coat. Mother took leave of me with a quiet melancholy and reminded me of the promise that I had given—not to abandon Jewish learning or become carried away by nihilism, the denial of the past. My sisters, young men, and ladies my age looked on me as a future hero in a war without a sense of what constituted this heroism. For me, [the university ] was a torch, a symbol of freedom for someone like me who wanted to escape from the ghetto, both geographically and mentally. Russia, which was unknown to us (in contrast to the Polish life of our environment), was radiant , comprised primarily of people imbued with the ideas of [Vissarion] Belinskii, the editor of Otechestvennye zapiski [Notes of the fatherland] and Sovremennik [The contemporary ], [Ivan] Turgenev, and [Nikolai] Nekrasov and so forth. It was decided that I should matriculate at St. Petersburg University. In St. Petersburg, I was initially to take up residence with one of our family’s relatives. Before my departure for the university, my friends organized a party, which was a complete novelty for me. My friends were older than I; they had already experienced want, lived on their own modest incomes, and with some bitter cynicism, you can say, even scorned the religious beliefs of their parents and environment. For the party, they bought vodka, sausage, pork, and even invited some women. All this was disgusting to me. I refused to partake of the vodka [and the food], remembering my promise before entering the university that I would not violate Jewish laws and customs. The presence of women provoked disgust in me because I was completely innocent. Owing to this, a great conflict broke out between me and my friends. They called me an “aristocrat.” However, my protest against “purchased love” gained the respect of a few people. This laid the foundation for my special friendship with Shlossberg and Doctors Kramnik and Gordon. [420]   education & culture On the day of my departure, in the morning I set out to say farewell to my grand­ father, [Samuel] Strashun. I went to him into the synagogue where, after the prayers, he read and commented on a section of the Talmud before a gathered audience. I remember this farewell and the situation vividly. The synagogue was located in Polavakh—a suburb of Vil’na. It was quiet on the street, without any movement. From grandfather’s house, one heard only the splashing of the water from the mill and then babbling brook with crystal cold water; trees surrounded the old wooden synagogue. Grandfather sat, with a radiant, cordial, and affectionate face, in the place of honor near the ark, surrounded by an audience in prayer shawls. When I came up to him, he stroked my cheeks and said: “You know, we the elderly are afraid of the university ; we are fearful that it will take you away from Jewry. However, new times and new paths have come, and we cannot oppose you. I respect science—especially medicine and astronomy. Farewell my child, but remember and do not forget that you are a Jew.” The surrounding audience was very astonished . They had expected an irate reprimand, even curses. I sealed these words in my soul and in my heart, and tearfully bid farewell to Grandfather. Father escorted me to the train, and there he introduced me to a Pole who was sending his son off to Moscow University. We traveled together. For the first time, I savored the feeling of equality: not a zhid traveling with a pan but two students. I became friends with this student, and we subsequently we ended up as colleagues on the...

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