And Other Stories Of Communist Russia
Page 29
It would be a mistake not to take this element into account. But it would be an even cruder mistake to take this element for the totality, as the only force acting on a man.
Only in a complex account can the problem be solved.
We have seen this complexity in my conduct. The prime mover was not terror but other forces—duty, intellect, conscience.
My conduct was basically intelligent. Terror did not lead me by the hand, like a blind man. But it lived in me, violated the healthy functioning of my body, and prompted me to flee "dan-
gers" when higher feelings or obligations were not present.
It pressed down on me and influenced my physical condition.
My consciousness was determined to root it out. Intellectual development discovered the way of knowledge. The professional habits of a writer also took part in this struggle. Among many themes which absorbed me was a theme connected with water. To this, I had a special inclination.
For half a year I studied materials dealing with the wreck of the "Black Prince."
I diligently studied everything that related to it. I made myself familiar with diving operations and with the work of reclamation. I gathered literature on all inventions in this area.
Having finished my book, The Black Prince, I immediately began to collect materials on the wreck of the "Submarine 55." I never finished that book. The theme ceased to absorb me, for about this time I discovered a more intelligent way to pursue the struggle.
And so, by the systematic study of water in all its properties, I wished to free myself from my misfortune, from my unconscious terror. This terror was not even related to water. But water evoked the terror, for it was conditionally connected with the other object of my fear.
What a tragic struggle. What grief and suffering it inflicted on me.
But how can one speak of the malady of a high state of consciousness?
One can only speak of an intellect that lacks knowledge. One can only speak of the small, unfortunate savage who makes his way along a narrow cliff side path, barely touched by the first rays of the morning sun.
10
And so, convinced of my strength, I proceeded farther in pursuit of the unhappy incident that had provoked my malady.
To Be Continued
[Alas, it was not to be. Presumably, Zoshchenko had completed his self-analysis, and it had been accepted for publication, when he and the editors of the journal in which the above appeared were viciously attacked by party officials. The editors apologized abjectly. The rest of Zoshchenko's "autobiography" has never appeared.]
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