By Alex Gordon in Haifa, Israel
What could bring an 18-year-old Jew from the provincial Russian town of Proskurov to Paris in 1912? What drives him, a graduate of the Alekseevsky Men’s Real School from the small town of Proskurov, to the Latin Quarter of Paris, to the mountain of Sainte-Geneviève, where the École Polytechnique is located? Thirst for adventure? The desire to get rich? The desire to get into the Paris Opera House? No, that’s not right.
Yakov simply loved to learn. He wanted to become an engineer, but he wasn’t accepted into Russian universities. The numerus clausus (Latin for “closed number”), a percentage quota that restricted the admission of Jews to higher education institutions in the Russian Empire, became an insurmountable obstacle in his path to obtaining an engineering degree in the country where he was born. There was also a percentage quota at the Alekseevsky Men’s Real School. Yakov overcame it, but studying in St. Petersburg and Kiev was an unattainable dream for him.
And Yakov, using money from his parents who dreamed of their son getting an engineering degree, went to Paris. From Old Boulevard Street, where the Proskurov School was located, he ended up on the Parisian boulevards.
From the Polytechnic School, Mount Sainte-Geneviève offered a view of the narrow, ancient streets of Paris’s Fifth Arrondissement. From there, one could see the Pantheon and the Luxembourg Gardens. Yakov compared this majestic panorama to the gloomy brick two-story building of the Alekseevsky School in Proskurov, which was dark brown in color and had windows framed by dirty white stripes. The school building was surrounded by a low, ugly wooden fence.
At the École Polytechnique in Paris, the studies were difficult, and the problems started with language proficiency. He studied French at a school in Proskurov, got good grades, but the level of French instruction there was low. The French teacher at the Proskurov School was a Swiss man named Adler. In his lessons, he often criticized the Germans and French and praised the Swiss. The students heard his stories about stupid Germans and frivolous French people.
The teacher spoke French fluently, roughly, and with some kind of accent. He taught superficially. Therefore, when Yakov started attending lectures at the École Polytechnique, it was very difficult for him to understand the professors at first. Struggling with the French language difficulties did not prevent him from taking an interest in what was happening in Paris in Russian.
Although Yakov was immersed in his studies, he was also interested in politics. The strongest impressions he had during his studies in France were related to Russia, which was on the verge of revolution. These were the years before World War I. Once, something like this story happened to him.
Paris was the center of demonstrations and gatherings for all Russian revolutionary parties. Yakov was in favor of a revolution that would equalize the rights of Jews with those of Christians in Russia, abolish the numerus clausus, and lift the ban on Jews settling outside the shtetls of the Pale of Settlement. Attending the demonstration and listening to the speakers and the crowd’s reactions was a way to learn about what was happening in Russia.
Yakov enjoyed listening to the speeches of the leaders of the future revolution. The speakers were brilliant and competed with each other. One day he was listening to Trotsky and was struck by his speech. According to Trotsky, everything was clear – who was to blame, what to do, and how.
After the performance, there was thunderous applause. The revolutionaries loved Trotsky, they carried him on their shoulders. Yakov was moved by Trotsky’s speech, and when the crowd began to disperse, he was deeply impressed by what he had heard.
He was walking to the subway station on his way home when he noticed a stocky, balding man of short stature walking quickly beside him, with a large head, narrow brown eyes, a big nose, and a slightly protruding chin, with a reddish mustache and beard, about 40 years old. Looking up at Yakov from below, he asked him defiantly, even challengingly, in Russian:
“Did you enjoy Trotsky’s speech, comrade?” Yakov nodded affirmatively.
“He’s a blabbermouth and a dangerous man! He will shed a lot of blood. I can already see blood on his hands!” Yakov was astonished: the entire crowd adored Trotsky, and only this man criticized him so harshly.
“Are there bloodless revolutions?” Yakov asked.
“Do you really want to know how to make a revolution? If so, come by my place this evening — 4 Marie-Rose Street. It’s near Parc Montsouris,” said the man.
“Who should I ask there?” Yakov inquired.
“Me, my name is Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov-Lenin.”
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Alex Gordon is professor emeritus of physics at the University of Haifa and at Oranim, the Academic College of Education, and the author of 12 books.