History of the Jews in Russia and Poland. Volume II | Page 7

In puste
Gruber seinen mir verlofen_..... Oi weih, oi weih!_....[1]
[Footnote 1:
When the ukase came down about Jewish soldiers, We all dispersed
over the lonesome forests; Over the lonesome forests did we disperse,
In lonesome pits did we hide ourselves.... Woe me, Woe!]
The recruiting agents hired by the Kahal or its "trustees," who received
the nickname "hunters" or "captors," [1] hunted down the fugitives,
trailing them everywhere and capturing them for the purpose of making
up the shortage. In default of a sufficient number of adults, little
children, who were easier "catch," were seized, often enough in
violation of the provision of the law. Even boys under the required age
of twelve, sometimes no more than eight years old, were caught and
offered as conscripts at the recruiting stations, their age being misstated.
[2] The agents perpetrated incredible cruelties. Houses were raided
during the night, and children were torn from the arms of their mothers,
or lured away and kidnapped.
[Footnote 1: More literally "catchers"; in Yiddish Khappers.]
[Footnote 2: This was the more easy, as regular birth-registers were not
yet in existence.]
After being captured, the Jewish conscripts were sent into the recruiting
jail where they were kept in confinement until their examination at the
recruiting station. The enlisted minors were turned over to a special
officer to be dispatched to their places of destination, mostly in the
Eastern provinces including Siberia. For it must be noted that the
cantonists were stationed almost to a man in the outlying Russian

governments, where they could be brought up at a safe distance from
all Jewish influences. The unfortunate victims who were drafted into
the army and deported to these far-off regions were mourned by their
relatives as dead. During the autumnal season, when the recruits were
drafted and deported, the streets of the Jewish towns resounded with
moans. The juvenile cantonists were packed into wagons like so many
sheep and carried off in batches under a military convoy. When they
took leave of their dear ones it was for a quarter of a century; in the
case of children it was for a longer term, too often it was good-bye for
life.
How these unfortunate youngsters were driven to their places of
destination we learn from the description of Alexander Hertzen, [1]
who chanced to meet a batch of Jewish cantonists on his involuntary
journey through Vyatka, in 1835. At one of the post stations in some
God-forsaken village of the Vyatka government he met the escorting
officer. The following dialogue ensued between the two:
[Footnote 1: Hertzen, a famous Russian writer (d. 1870), was exiled to
the government of Vyatka for propagating liberal doctrines.]
"Whom do you carry and to what place?"
"Well, sir, you see, they got together a bunch of these accursed Jewish
youngsters between the age of eight and nine. I suppose they are meant
for the fleet, but how should I know? At first the command was to drive
them to Perm. Now there is a change. We are told to drive them to
Kazan. I have had them on my hands for a hundred versts or
thereabouts. The officer that turned them over to me told me they were
an awful nuisance. A third of them remained on the road (at this the
officer pointed with his finger to the ground). Half of them will not get
to their destination," he added.
"Epidemics, I suppose?", I inquired, stirred to the very core.
"No, not exactly epidemics; but they just fall like flies. Well, you know,
these Jewish boys are so puny and delicate. They can't stand mixing
dirt for ten hours, with dry biscuits to live on. Again everywhere

strange folks, no father, no mother, no caresses. Well then, you just
hear a cough and the youngster is dead. Hello, corporal, get out the
small fry!"
The little ones were assembled and arrayed in a military line. It was one
of the most terrible spectacles I have ever witnessed. Poor, poor
children! The boys of twelve or thirteen managed somehow to stand up,
but the little ones of eight and ten.... No brush, however black, could
convey the terror of this scene on the canvas.
Pale, worn out, with scared looks, this is the way they stood in their
uncomfortable, rough soldier uniforms, with their starched, turned-up
collars, fixing an inexpressibly helpless and pitiful gaze upon the
garrisoned soldiers, who were handling them rudely. White lips, blue
lines under the eyes betokened either fever or cold. And these poor
children, without care, without a caress, exposed to the wind which
blows unhindered from the Arctic Ocean, were marching to their death.
I seized the officer's hand, and, with the words: "Take good care of
them! ", threw myself into my carriage. I felt like