The Books of Jacob

Nahman Jakubowski runs into Hasidim he knows in this camp. The orphaned followers of the Besht look askance at Jacob’s people, mistrustful. They stick together, but eventually they start to get into debates with the Frankists, debates that grow noisy, violent. Their voices, which carry quotations from Isaiah, from the Zohar, rise above the walls and can even be heard from Jacob’s tower.

On the occasion of little Joseph’s baptism, Jacob gives a great feast in the town, so that anybody may eat and drink, without regard to whether he has been baptized or circumcised. Equally celebrated is the wedding of Jacob Goliński, for whom the Lord has selected—Goliński being a good true believer—Magda Jezierzańska, a wife half his age. The ceremony occurs in the novitiate chapel in the monastery, which the prior graciously allows them to use after it has been repainted. The service is beautiful, and you can’t yet hear the roar of the cannons that are inexorably closing in on Cz?stochowa. Instead, there is the beautiful and noble sound of the psalms of the Paulines, who are pleased that the monastery has received such a sumptuous offering.




Immediately afterward, the news goes around that Russia has determined to insert itself into Poland’s internal disputes, and that Russian armies are en route from the east. This means war. Now every day the news is worse. And every day more people come to the Jasna Góra Virgin, believing that in her presence nothing terrible can happen to them. The chapel is full, people lie in the form of the cross on the cold floor, the air is thick with prayer. When the songs fall silent, from afar, from just past the horizon, comes the low, ominous thunder of explosions.

Alarmed by all of this, Jacob has Jan Wo?owski go to Warsaw to fetch Avacha, who was sent there for her education and has been living with the Wo?owskis. It is a decision Jacob soon comes to regret. He is surprised by her appearance. The thin little girl with the braids and bitten nails and hands rough from climbing the monastery walls has returned a young lady, beautiful and with excellent manners. She wears her hair pinned up in a high bun, and her bright dresses are cut low (although the neckline is covered with a kerchief ). Whenever she leaves the tower for her daily walk around the walls, all eyes in the monastery turn to her. The monks are displeased by the commotion she leaves in her wake. So her father keeps her in the officer’s chamber and in the end only lets her go out after dark, and always under someone’s watchful eye.

Two weeks after her arrival come the confederates, under the leadership of one Kazimierz Pu?aski. One afternoon they occupy the Jasna Góra fortress as if it were the courtyard of a tavern, putting their horses, carts, and cannons everywhere, wherever they like, to the Paulines’ utter horror. They turn pilgrims away and introduce their own military rules. Immediately the fortress is closed, and Jacob can no longer be visited, nor can he go out into the town. With him are Hana, Avacha, and the boys, as well as both Zwierzchowskis, Matuszewskis, and his emissary Nahman Jakubowski. The monks must free up one of the monastery’s wings, which will be turned into quarters for the army. At first the pilgrimages stop completely, then cautiously they start up again, but at the gate the newly invigorated veterans now check everyone to ensure that no Russian spies slip through. Roch, who is the commander of the guard at the gate, has no time to converse with Jacob. Now he has other things on his mind—he has to supervise the daily delivery of wine and beer for the soldiers. The little town, too, livens up, as the soldiers must be fed, clothed, and entertained.

Kazimierz Pu?aski looks young, like a boy whose mustache has just grown in. It’s hard to believe he is an experienced leader. He seems to know this, too, as he adds gravitas to his body with a heavy military coat that bulks up his slender silhouette.

He does not get much of an opportunity for battle. The Russian troops circle the fortress like a fox around a henhouse. They come up; they go off. People think they are frightened away by the Virgin Mary on the standards displayed around the walls.

Pu?aski, who soon grows bored by the idleness in the closed monastery, is intrigued by the man in the high hat who rarely leaves the tower, and his beautiful, mysterious daughter, around whom legend already swirls in the garrison. He doesn’t care about matters of the church, nor do heresies much concern him. All he has heard is that this is the neophytes’ heresiarch, and a resident of the monastery. But a good Catholic. He sees him daily at morning mass. His sincere participation in the service, and the powerful voice with which he sings the Lord’s Prayer, make Pu?aski admire and like him. One evening he invites them for dinner, but Jacob comes alone. Tall, distinguished, he says little, considers much. They discuss what might happen, Russia, the king’s politics. Pu?aski understands that this prisoner of the king must be careful, and he tries to change the subject, since the conversation keeps stalling. To inquiries after his daughter, Jacob Frank responds that she had to stay behind with her mother, who is indisposed. Pu?aski seems disappointed at this. But the next time, Jacob brings his daughter, and her presence ensures that the evening is a very pleasant one indeed. Other officers have been invited, somewhat excited by the presence of such a lovely—if shy and quiet—young woman, and they show off their wit and their intelligence. The wine is good, and the scrawny chickens taste like wildfowl.

These nice social evenings end when Prince Lubomirski arrives at the monastery with his troops. They say in the town that Prince Lubomirski is even worse than the Russians. He loots the surrounding villages without mercy, and his soldiers do not hesitate to rape. The peasants call him a Hussite. Lubomirski’s troops patrol the enormous terrain and chase off the Russians, but they are resistant to obeying the orders of the confederate command, and slowly they turn into a band of villains and thieves.

When Lubomirski comes to the monastery, Jacob hides Avacha among the brothers, and she is not allowed to go out until he and his villains have moved on. Lubomirski organizes great bouts of drinking in the garrison, and this has ill effects on Pu?aski’s soldiers. Only the warhorses seem to admire the young prince.

“That’s the kind of leader we need,” says Roch, treating Jacob to some of the tobacco he received from the prince. “We’d chase away those Russians like a pack of mangy dogs.”

Jacob takes a pinch and is silent. One evening, the drunken prince keeps trying to get into Jacob’s tower, until Jacob is obliged to receive him. He inquires of Jacob as he would of a father figure into matters pertaining to women. His gaze darts about the chamber, no doubt seeking one woman in particular, the one everyone here has been mentioning to him.


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