CHAPTER II.
JUDAISM AND POLAND.
The two men traversed in almost uninterrupted silence the short distance which separated Sestri from Genoa. The route is simply a continuous line of straggling hamlets. On one mass of rock arose the ruins of an old tower; above the door was the image of the Virgin, patroness of the city. The light-house appeared in the distance, then the harbour, like an amphitheatre around which Genoa la Superba is built. This beautiful city is seen to best advantage from the sea. It is a city of palaces, with its colonnades, its porticos and staircases, its streets climbing toward the sky or sinking in sudden precipices. It has been likened to an enormous shell thrown up by the waves of the sea. The marine monster who lived in this shell has been replaced by a miserable spider; a life full of littleness has succeeded the life of grandeur of past ages.
In this marble city the inhabitants to-day are somewhat embarrassed. The shell is too large for them,--this shell, in the bottom of which the turbulent Genoese Republic vied with Venice in its traffic and its aristocracy. New peoples are there, new ways. The Balbi and Palaviccini palaces now have the appearance of tombs, while at the port the modern Italian struggles for precedence in a new form of existence, perhaps as full of pride as in the vanished past.
The carriage rolled softly through the streets which led to the interior of the city.
"Permit me to alight," said the young Pole suddenly.
"Why?"
"To go in search of lodgings."
"I thought it was agreed that we travel together?"
"Yes; but I wish to live alone. I tell you frankly that I have scarcely enough to finish my journey. It is necessary for me to seek cheap lodgings."
"Have you not accepted my fraternal offer to stay with me?"
"Yes, perhaps; but poverty has its pride, as wealth sometimes has its humility. Do not be angry because I wish to retain my independence. It is so good to be free, when liberty costs only a bad dinner and a wretched bed."
"I understand your scruples," replied the Jew. "If they were of any value I would heed them. I do not dream of chaining you to myself. My offer amounts to little, but it is made with a good heart, and if you find life with me insupportable you can leave me. In asking you to share my lodgings, if only for a night, I do not make any sacrifice, and you owe me no gratitude. Do not refuse. I can share with you without inconvenience, and it is you who will do me a favour. I am sad-hearted; solitude oppresses me, I do not wish to be alone. Come with me to my hotel. I do not ask you to amuse me, but only to be near me. My heart longs to overflow into the heart of a fellow-man. If I weary you, you are at liberty to leave me to my sufferings."
"It would be foolish for me," said the Pole, "to refuse such a courteous invitation. Pardon my too susceptible pride. It was owing to my poverty."
"I honour the sentiment," replied the Jew smiling. Then he cried to the driver, "To the Hotel Féder!"
The Hotel Féder, like most of the hostelries of Genoa, of Venice, and of other Italian cities, is an ancient palace appropriated to this new service. The structure, half antique and half modern, has a strange appearance. At the foot of the court, obscure and abandoned, trickles an old fountain; a narrow path passes under the windows of the chambers, and on every side can be discovered traces of former grandeur, relics of a romantic age now superseded everywhere by the plain practical life of to-day, whose chief end is money-getting.
The companions obtained a large room on the third floor with two beds, the windows of which commanded a fine view of the port, bristling with masts, like a garden of shrubs despoiled of their leaves by winter. In the distance the Mediterranean could be seen stretching away to the horizon.
They had hardly entered the room when the young man fell exhausted into a chair, and seemed about to swoon for the second time. Some cologne revived him, and a slight repast soon dispelled his weakness, the result of long fasting and excessive fatigue. His strength returned with rest and nourishment.
"And now," advised the Jew, "lie down on this couch, or perhaps it would be better to go to bed."
"If you will permit me?" asked the young man timidly.
"Nay, I beg you to do so."
"And you?"
"Oh, I will see Genoa this evening. Never mind me. I will amuse myself; all I ask of you at present is to sleep; and, mind, you must not even dream."
He took his hat and cane and left the room. The young man fell like one dead on the bed, and was asleep before his head touched the pillow. Fatigue is not the same in old age as in youth, for then sleep soon restores the exhausted energies.
The young traveller was awakened from his profound slumber by the discordant braying of the asses grouped under the windows of the hotel. He had forgotten the events of the past evening, and threw an astonished glance around the luxurious apartment. He who had for so long a time been accustomed to sleep in miserable lodgings now awoke in a pleasant room, and saw a simple but abundant breakfast spread out on the table beside him.
The Jew returned from a sea-bath, prepared to do it honour.
"Is it then very late?" murmured the Pole, rising from the bed.
"No, not very late. I arose early to enjoy the freshness of the morning. Have you slept well?"
"I know not."
"How is that?"
"I fell like a piece of lead. I rise as I fell without having stirred, without having moved even. I have slept the sleep of the dead."
"And how do you feel at present?"
"Strong as Hercules, thanks to you."
"Ah, bah! thanks to youth. Does your head ache still?"
"Not at all."
"Then let us attend to breakfast."
"You treat me too well, dear Amphitryon. This is a breakfast worthy of Lucullus and of the Sybarites. I have contented myself for a long while on awakening with a glass of sour wine and a piece of bread with cheese. A similar repast in the evening, and that was all. I cannot permit myself luxuries. I, a poor orphan, without future or friend, have never been pampered."
"It is not necessary that this should hinder your eating," interrupted the Jew gayly. "I am hungry, and will set you an example. Let us begin. We will become better acquainted."
"That is true; we do not even know each other's names."
"Very well. I have the honour to present you Jacob Hamon."
"And I," said the Pole in his turn, "my friends have christened me familiarly with the name of Ivas. In reality I am called Jean Huba. Huba, and not Hube, which is a German name. You will learn it if you know Poland a little, for I am from a Russian province, in the language of which Huba signifies champignon. It is like the Polish Gzybowski or Gzybowicz. This name became later an addition to the family name of the Pstrocki who came from Masovia to gain their living in a more fertile land. In full, I am Jean Huba Pstrocki ex Masovia olim oriundus, in Russia possessionatus et natus."
"Have you any kindred there?" asked Jacob.
"Neither kindred nor an inch of ground. I am an orphan in every sense of the word. My father, after losing his last cent, and seeing his little farm in Volhynie devastated by hail and other plagues, died, leaving me to the charity of men. From pity they sent me to school, where I passed the examination and entered the university."
"Why did you leave the country?"
"Because with us college pranks are considered as a crime; because we are not permitted to love our country, neither in its past nor future; because those who stifle seek the air. For writing some simple patriotic verses I was threatened with banishment to Siberia."
"Always the malady of the oppressed," remarked the Jew. "Where veterans are seen tearing up all their rights, the young try to reconquer, and, in their unreflecting enthusiasm, often find exile, misery, and death."
They both sighed, and Jacob asked:--
"Why do you dream of returning to a country from which you were obliged to flee?"
"I know not myself" replied Ivas sadly; "I only know that I return to my native land. Suffering has pushed me to it. I have not learned to live in any other country, and exile is to me intolerable, morally and physically. I left home believing that ideas of liberty, concord, light, and justice vibrated in the hearts of other men as in mine. Alas! society is not what I thought it. It has no place for the oppressed, no hand to hold out to the dying, no consolation to offer to the afflicted, no shelter to the proscribed. I return, then, to the country I have left. There, at least, beat some generous hearts, while in Europe"--
"Europe has grown old," interrupted Jacob. "She is afraid of quarrelling. The world is in the hands of charlatans who profit by the sufferings of martyrs. Truth is no more comprehended. They mock at her. Men who are crafty and unscrupulous profit by everything in these days. Self-interest is the only spring of human interest. The heart has given out its last spark of generosity, and the world is drifting towards scepticism and intolerance. Men pride themselves on unbelief, for liberty has degenerated into an unbridled license. Revolution has set up a pedestal for the ambition of impostors, and the apostles of progress make money out of their dupes. Fortunately humanity will grow better."
While he was speaking, the sun rose high in the heavens, and the heat, which was great, made it uncomfortable to walk abroad. The Jew closed the shutters, and the two companions continued their conversation in a subdued light and comparative coolness.
"I ought to make myself known to you," said the Jew, after a short silence. "We understand each other already, but my exceptional position requires explanation. Our acquaintance, which commenced near Genoa, will not end here, I hope. You can tell me more of yourself later on, but it is right that I should be the first to make a frank confidence. It is a courtesy that I wish to show to our new-born friendship.
"The word 'Jew' contains all my history. It tells my destiny, it divines my character. This known, the consequences are certain. The Jew, even while he has ceased to be a pariah in society, still remains no less an enigma. For several thousand years he has borne engraved on his forehead his holy mission,--a mission of, suffering, humility, and abasement. But from this deep abasement he comes out greater, to go forward toward the universal power he lends to the entire world. He builds and tears down thrones, dominates over governments, makes laws, and reigns in an invisible manner. It is with pride that I say it, the word 'Jew' has immense significance.
"Pardon me if I forget myself in speaking of the Jews. I feel myself a child of that great family on the foreheads of which the finger of Moses has inscribed the mysterious name--Jehovah.
"Before being a man I am a Jew. This word recalls much suffering, the first legislation worthy of humanity, the most ancient morals emanating from divine wisdom in the Ten Commandments.
"As God is eternal, so are his laws. When nations were wandering and lost in the by-ways of polytheism and of anomalism (if I can by this word express the absence of laws), the one God is manifested to us; and to us is communicated the sacred fire, which we have preserved during all ages.
"We are spread over the whole world, holding fast the word of God. During two thousand years we have not made proselytes: we have guarded the treasure for ourselves. The world is busy, toils and labours; and we live on, absorbed entirely in guarding this treasure. We are preserved in all our suffering, a distinct people, bearing everywhere our country in our hearts, in our holy books and our religious services, and in all the minute circumstances of life. But to-day, I fear, alas! that we have thrown from our shoulders this dear burden. The Jewish idea seems to have diminished with the cessation of persecution. But to return to my personal history.
"I was born of one of those Jewish families scattered in the Polish villages. You probably know something of the Jews in Poland, a country that I love as well as you do, and on which I can cast only one reproach. The Poles, though deeply imbued with the idea of human dignity, refused the name of man to all those who were not noble. Poland, like the Republic of Venice, has not known how to reform herself. Caste prevailed to so great a degree that she has preferred to perish sooner than adopt a new mode of existence, and risk all in the defence of liberty. Nevertheless, in the lives of these people I recognize a great and brilliant spirit like our own. In speaking of Poland, I do not call myself a Pole, for I am a Jew, and we are a distinct people, it matters not what land we dwell in. In judging Poland's past impartially, one can perhaps criticise, but must acknowledge that it is full of poetry; it is a Homeric epoch."
"Stop!" cried the young Pole, "you are a son of the present; do not excuse the past."
"Why do you speak thus?"
"Why? Because I was born in the midst of new ideas. I condemn the most brilliant epochs of our history, for they were the veritable cause of our ruin. We who are descended from those guardians of our rights are now their judges, and we justly consider as the greatest kings those who tried to crush the nobility to establish their own power."
"You are partly right. Nevertheless, when I meditate on Poland, she seems to me strange, frightful, at times almost savage, but always grand and magnificent, chivalrous and noble. No one has a better right than the Jew to condemn the Polish nobility, yet it is necessary to judge a nation without personal prejudice."
"We will discuss this subject at another time," interrupted the young man; "but there is really something strange in the fact that I, a noble Pole, should condemn the past more than you, a Jew. You are truly magnanimous!"
Jacob smiled, and said, "I am older than you, dear brother, if not in years, at least in experience. Suffering, labour, and meditation, and perhaps, also, the sorrows of bygone generations, have prematurely aged me."
"That is true; but tell me more about yourself."
"Do not be impatient. I cannot do otherwise. We will travel over a rocky road, like the mineralogists. Every time that we encounter a curious stone we will strike it with our hammer to find out what it contains. So we will pause to discuss different subjects. But do you not remember that it will soon be time to go to Aqua Sola?"
"Ah, yes! It is true that we shall meet my beautiful benefactress, who, like the Samaritan, gave me aid in my distress."
"This Italienne who bathed your temples with water, and at the same time, perhaps, lighted a fire in your heart. But between yesterday and to-day there is an abyss. Who knows how many will keep the rendezvous at Aqua Sola?"
"Do you think many will fail to put in an appearance?"
"Experience has taught me to count very little on engagements twenty-four hours old, and not at all on those dating back several weeks."
"The evening is still far off," said the Pole.
"Very far. The sun is yet high in the heavens."
"Then pray continue your autobiography."
CHAPTER III.
EDUCATION OF JACOB.
"Who does not love to recall the occurrences of youth, however sad? I cannot boast of happiness in my childhood, yet the memory of those days brings tears to my eyes, and I repeat that which is written in one of our books: 'Youth is a garland of flowers; old age, a crown of thorns.' Even in comparison with maturity, full of power and intelligence, those years seem to me strewn with flowers, although they were unhappy.
"My parents were descended from an important and once wealthy family, whose fortunes had declined for several generations. They found themselves for a time in the lowest degree of society, working in the village inns or occupying themselves in some little business or petty speculations in wheat or cattle. To speak frankly, my father was an innkeeper in a little village. He was a quiet, studious man, loving his books, and little calculated for business. My mother took care of everything. She was the second wife of my father, Joël, who had lost his first after the birth of a son, Joël, who was already well grown when I came into the world.
"Joël, the elder, was of a gloomy character, silent, concentrated, a dreamer. He was absorbed in abstruse speculations, and was happy only when he was left in undisturbed possession of his books. He was generally esteemed on account of his learning, but his family suffered from his inaptitude for business, which was for us a question of life.
"It has been, and is still, with the Jews, a traditional duty to amass wealth. This does not proceed from the character of the race, but from the conditions under which they live. The only rights accorded, or, rather, dearly sold, to the Jews can at any moment be revoked, suspended, or torn in shreds by the tribunal of the clergy. Where can justice be found? To whom can they complain? The Jew has been forced to seek in gold, which is worshipped by all nations, the means of obtaining justice, rights, and consideration. The poor Jew has no defence, no protection, but the head of the community to which he belongs. The Christians have, in a measure, made a religious duty of avenging the death of Christ on us; this Christ who was a Jew also. We are therefore obliged to cling to our money as the only safeguard, though the law of Moses condemns severely this love of gold. (Exodus xxii. 25.)
"My father could not be accused of enriching himself at the expense of others. In the end, plunged as he was in metaphysical studies, which made him forget the affairs of this world, he lost even the little hoard that had been saved with so much difficulty. All the care and labour fell on my poor mother, who was much younger, and therefore interested in the future. I had two sisters younger than myself, and my half-brother was much older.
"Our rural establishment consisted of a rented farm, and a tavern situated near a highway. The locality was much frequented. We were brought up in a continual bustle, which, however, did not disturb my father, who was too absorbed to notice it. My mother and two servants worked hard to satisfy their guests. It would have been a most profitable business, in spite of a neighbouring rival, if fortune had only smiled on us. But that which was made by the sale of brandy, hay, and oats was lost in other ways. In his transactions with the dealers in hides and cattle, my father always came out worsted. He attributed this ill-luck to the will of God; but my mother grieved bitterly over his lack of business tact. We grew poorer every day. The family jewels, my father's furs and clothes, all that we possessed of any value, were gradually parted with.
"The owner of the tavern was a noble. Fat, hearty, always gay and good-humoured, he was a viveur; a heart good enough, but terribly dissipated. He cared not for the morrow, provided that to-day was passed agreeably. At all times he required money. He was our plague, although he was not wicked. Every time that he sent for Joël my mother wept, for she knew that he would have to take money with him.
"At the manor-house, which was about half a mile from the tavern, there was always a gay company. When he was alone a single day, Micuta almost died of ennui. If no one came to amuse him, he ordered his horses, and went to visit his neighbours. His wife wept then, like my mother. She could not prevent his dissipation nor correct his faults, but, womanlike, she loved him in spite of all. To procure money with which to amuse himself was the sole object of this nobleman, and when he was told that he would ruin himself, he replied carelessly, 'Ah, bah! Providence will provide. I will die as I have lived.'"
"Such types," said Ivas, "are common with us. Every district possesses several Micutas."
"At the same time that he sent for Joël to bring him money," resumed the Jew, "his wife, Madame Micuta, sent to my mother, and begged her not to give him any. But how could she resist when he was determined to have his way at any cost? Joël always yielded to his demands. For his continual banquets it was necessary to have fish, meat, sugar and vegetables, spices and wine. And that was not all; the accounts increased, and my father was obliged to give his note and pay usurious interest.
"Naturally I, too young to understand the state of affairs, looked on the world around me, and found it wonderful. The tavern was always full of travellers. Behind our garden was a forest of oaks, where I loved to wander, listening to the warbling of birds and the rustling of the branches overhead. Now, I cannot interest myself thus in nature; human beings interest me more. It is not given to every child to grow up in such a turmoil, and in the midst of a crowd of strangers continually going and coming. From it I learned that there were many people in the world, and at the same time that many of them were strangers. I realized that all these people were preoccupied, and cared nothing for us. My mother, in these early days, could pay little attention to me, occupied as she was, while my father prayed and read. We knew that she loved us, but she had no time to caress or to amuse us. I became accustomed at an early age to live alone. My thoughts were my companions, and a secret mistrust separated me from men. I loved, however, to observe them and to penetrate their characters.
"I was still quite young when my father died, after a short illness. That day of mourning and lamentation is engraved on my memory. It was then that I pronounced for the first time the words, as is the duty of all Israelites whom the hand of God has stricken, 'Glory to Thee, equitable Judge, may Thy will be done.'
"After the old man's death, which left me an orphan, our landlord turned us out of the tavern in spite of my mother's entreaties. She rented a little inn situated near a mill, on the border of a forest. This place seemed pleasant to us, but here began hardships which children only do not feel. Instead of the incessant noise of our inn, full day and night, we now seldom saw any one, save that occasionally an individual came to the mill, and this ran only six months in the year, on account of lack of water.
"During this dull season we scarcely sold a barrel of brandy."
"Around the little cabin murmured the pine-trees, and the narrow path which led to the mill was overgrown with trailing vines and herbs. We lived in this solitude on black bread and vegetables furnished by our little garden. My mother grew more despairing every day, and appealed to her relatives and to those of my father, but in vain. We were in rags, but yet we children were not unhappy. Presently I reached the age for study. My mother grieved over her inability to have me taught, and I remember that one day she left us under the protection of a poor Jew of the neighbourhood, and was gone for some weeks. She returned a little more tranquil, kissed my forehead and said, 'Rejoice, my son, thou shalt soon have some one to instruct thee!'
"I realized so little the importance of this promise, that I was much more pleased with the sweet cakes which she brought me. You know what care the Israelites take in the education of their children, for it is in that way that we learn the laws and traditions of our people; it is, in a word, the shaping of our souls. From the rabbi, at five years, every boy ought to learn the Bible; at ten, the Michna; at thirteen, the Divine Ordinances; and at fifteen, the Gemara."
Seeing an expression of incredulity spread over the lips of Ivas, Jacob paused. "I am aware," said he, "that these books have been ridiculed to you by men who are antagonistic to us. They know only the outlines of their teachings, and that very superficially or by hearsay. It is, however, to these customs which appear ridiculous to you that we owe the fact that we have not disappeared from the face of the earth, nor become absorbed by other nations. Obscure as the text is, it merits our gratitude.
"I remember, as if it was yesterday, the arrival of my tutor. I was at the door of our cabin, when from a miserable vehicle alighted a being so deformed and of such a frightful appearance that he scarcely seemed human. The body of this creature was so bent by long study that he could not stand erect. He was hump-backed, and from his curved chest arose an enormous head, with a high forehead, from which shone a pair of piercing black eyes. His glance terrifies me even now in my dreams. It seemed as if he could penetrate one's inmost thoughts. The outer world was nothing to the owner of these eyes; he lived for books alone. Lame in one foot, he walked with difficulty, leaning on a cane. It was more of a hop than a walk.
"Such was my mentor. He came from the village, was called Moché, and was celebrated in the vicinity for his great learning. His knowledge of sacred literature was most extensive. He recited by heart long passages of the Talmud and of the Kabala, without omitting a word, without forgetting an accent. His life was devoted to the instruction of children and to self-culture. The world did not interest him; he lived entirely in the past. No doubt he would never have consented to come to us, had he not been attracted by two boxes full of rare books, the heritage of my father.
"Moché was a strict teacher, and insisted on the observance of all religious rules and traditions. He was a travelling encyclopedia which moved mechanically. I doubt if there ever was a more severe teacher. He fulfilled his functions without pity, almost with cruelty.
"Deprived so suddenly of my liberty, I was forced to embrace so many studies that I thought I should lose my reason and become a fool. But, at any cost, I must learn to be a Jew, or perish. Mechanically my head was filled with words, with long tirades which I had to repeat without stopping, each intonation of which, required by the sense of the phrase, had to be learned with care. In spite of the brutality of this method, it was a spur to my intelligence, which gradually opened and put itself in motion.
"I commenced to study with some understanding. It is difficult to determine what influence on the mind of a child the study of past generations has. It is certain that, on commencing the study of the Bible and the history of my people, I believed myself awakened from a dream after a long slumber. Once the first difficulties vanished, I applied myself so ardently to study that Moché was astonished. It was not his custom to encourage children by pleasant words, but he showed himself less severe toward me, without, at any time, becoming affectionate. The only thing that annoyed him was when I asked explanations of the passages which we studied. Then he was cross, and rapped my fingers with a little rod which served him for pointing out the letters. He wished to chase from my brain that which he considered premature pride. Moché often repeated to me, to pique me into emulation, that, following the rabbins, the world rests on the breath of children who learn the law of God, and not on the intelligence of savants.
"Laugh, if you will, but these remembrances have a great charm for me."
"That does not prevent me from laughing at your club-footed Moché," said Ivas.
"I do not dream of poetizing him. I even say that his severity rendered him almost a savage. Although he was always polite to my mother, he did not hesitate to reproach her for not keeping up our customs more rigidly. Then he would threaten to go away.
"For us Moché was a sort of bugbear. Yet when he was roused he became almost grand. Then the brightness of his soul became so apparent that you did not think of his body. When he recited to us the sufferings of Israel the tears rolled down his cheeks, he was excited almost to frenzy. His voice was broken with sobs, and he often sang the verses in an inspired voice. In these moments his hair was pushed back from his forehead, and his body shook with a nervous tremor, produced by extreme susceptibility and appreciation of the subject; his memory was prodigious.
"Such is a brief sketch of my master, not flattering, but very like him.
"It was he who made me read the first books of the Bible, or rather who made me weep over them. He was so conscientious that, having recognized in me a certain ability, he advised my mother to send me to a neighbouring town to finish my education.
"Thanks to him, at thirteen, following our custom, I read publicly in the Synagogue passages from the Holy Scriptures, and I was made one of the ten officiants of the temple, the number necessary for the assembly to be considered complete.
"It was exceedingly difficult for my poor mother to remove. But she resolved to use every effort in my behalf. Miserable as our existence was near the mill, it had some advantages, for our rent was very low, and we had fuel, thanks to the woods which surrounded our cabin, and vegetables from our little garden. In the town we should have had to pay for everything, even water. How could we live? How could she do it? How transport her children thither? And after getting there, on what resources could we subsist?
"While my mother racked her brain to find an answer to these questions, my half-brother, having already amassed a little fortune by selling hides, came to pay us a visit.
"This unlooked-for event was of great importance to us. We had not seen him for a long time. He was nearly thirty years old, and was married. His wife's marriage portion and a little heritage from my father formed a small capital, which he had known how to increase. The first year of his married life he had lived at the expense of his wife's parents, who were willing to do anything in their power. Afterward he established himself separately, and little by little increased his business. Fortune, which had frowned on our father, smiled on the son. This gave him courage; economical, cold, prudent, he devoted all his intelligence to the success of his projects. To be rich was his aim, and he was convinced that he should succeed. He was not yet well enough off to draw money from his business to aid us, but he brought us news of relations of my mother's, who, touched at last by her sad situation, sent her a small sum of money to invest in some business, the profits of which might educate my sisters and me. My mother wept with joy. We children were sad when we heard that we were to leave the mill and the forest, but we soon became accustomed to the life of a town.
"The elder brother was received with great affection. My mother asked him if he knew of any way for her to invest the money. Joël, who wished to increase his business, proposed that she invest the sum with him and share his house. She agreed to the proposition, and the next day, impatient for the change, sent for a vehicle to remove from the cabin.
"Here commenced the second period of my life. You have seen that my childhood was not cradled on a bed of roses, that I have suffered, and that suffering was the sun which hastened my development. As the sun's rays make the flowers blossom, so hardship forced my character to unfold. Those years have left me memories, for the most part disagreeable. Memories of ruin, of labour, of fighting against hunger, cold, and the contempt of men which paralyzed the intelligence, and prevented one from rising above bodily occupations. It is permitted to poets, or rather to those who give themselves out as such, to exalt in nature an impossible idealism and to rebel against materialism. But, alas! on regarding actual life, how many needs we have, and how much is required for mere existence!
"Man in full strength can battle with nature and poverty and come out conqueror. It is, nevertheless, very difficult to rid one's self of the cares of each day, the rock of Sisyphus which rolls back on us continually. The Jews were very numerous in our town; indeed, they formed the larger part of the population. We had a synagogue with which I was very much impressed, for until then I had seen only the miserable cabins which we used for places of worship. I could for the first time form a just idea of our religious ceremonies, and of the sabbath which draws us away from the world, restores us to God, and brings us nearer, in a measure, to our lost country. The baking of bread, a part of which is given to the poor, the setting of the table, the prayers in common, the blessing of the wine, all the customs recall the patriarchal epoch when God was with us, and took, in a way, part in human existence.
"To-day you Christians and we Jews have driven God from our presence, and we have forgotten him. Man made by the hands of the Creator believes himself a god, and anthropology is the contemporary religion.
"In my brother's house we dwelt in unity as one family, of which he was the head. The women prepared in common the evening meal, and what was needed for the morrow. When the hour for prayer in the synagogue arrived, an old priest rapped on the shutters three times with his mallet of wood, and we set out toward the temple bearing our books under our arms. The synagogue was an old building, dating from the sixth century. It had cost the community much money, for when they were building it the proprietor of the place, who was a Catholic, the Prince K----, had little toleration. The Jews, who had for worship only a little wooden house with a worm-eaten roof, solicited permission to build a new temple; which was granted to them only because money was needed by the proprietor, and it was not plenty just then, there having been a war. The Jews profited by his necessity to buy from the prince a plot of ground and the right to erect thereon a brick synagogue. The traditions of the neighbourhood speak of a colossal sum paid for the privilege. During the construction the workmen were ordered to undo their work, and to pull down the carved balls which ornamented the roof and made the synagogue more imposing than any of the surrounding buildings. However, such as it was, with its style much less Gothic than was planned, it seemed to my childish eyes fully equal to Solomon's Temple.
"I continued my studies with ardour. My teachers found in me much aptitude, and I had an insatiable desire to learn.
"Our little town, except on market-days, was not one of the most frequented, although it ranked among the most important. It was traversed by a thoroughfare on which a continual procession passed to and fro. Our co-religionists had founded a school here. As the Catholics had an important church, and the principal population was composed of the government employés, it was necessary, in order to remain unmolested, to pay without ceasing.
"I soon learned to conduct myself differently toward each person, according to his position on the social ladder.
"In general the Jew owes tribute to every one, commencing with the door-keepers of the Lords, and the wives of their door-keepers.
"One day returning from my class I found the house in a commotion. I feared at first that there had been an accident. The smiling faces reassured me. They awaited the arrival of an important person. My mother pulled me into the house, and ordered me to array myself in my best. My brother was already dressed. On the table there was brandy, with sweets, honey cake, white bread, spiced bread, and even a bottle of wine. I learned that he whom we were to receive with so much ceremony was my mother's cousin, a rich merchant from Warsaw. He was coming to decide about my future.
"I imagined in my childish brain a man of imposing figure with a long beard and a biblical costume recalling patriarchal times. I was still in this dream when a man appeared that I should have taken for a Christian. He was dressed differently from us, wore spectacles and a round hat. He had passed his first youth, had heavy eyebrows, large features, black eyes, and a smooth face. His complexion was rosy, his figure corpulent, and he evidently considered himself a man of importance.
"My mother told me to kiss the hand held out to me so majestically. Afterward he examined me attentively, caressed my chin, joked about the cap that I wore, and finished by blowing a cloud of smoke in my face from the cigar he was smoking. After the preliminaries, he said in German, in a patronizing voice, 'I think we can make a man out of this boy.' We all listened to him as to an oracle, because he was enormously rich, and my future depended on him.
"'What think you?' added he addressing my mother. 'I will take care of him, but not in your way.' Then turning to my brother he continued: 'There are already enough Jews employed in little ways, keeping taverns in the villages. The cause of it is our ignorance.'
"'Nevertheless,' replied Joël, 'this boy is not ignorant; he has been well taught, and he is now learning to read in the Gemara.'--'Ah! What does he want of the Gemara? Do you think of making him a rabbi? It is necessary for us in these days to go everywhere, and not remain in a corner! Why these ear-rings in the ears? Why that iarmulka? These are all remnants of the Middle Ages. The time of our persecution is almost past. The world opens to us. We must be ready to play an important rôle. The Jew has good sense and judgment, which he has preserved through hundreds of years of suffering. Why can he not enjoy the same advantages as Christians? Why is not our education as well developed as theirs? With that we can remain Israelites in the bottom of our hearts.'
"In spite of their respect for this wealthy kinsman my mother and my brother could not agree with him, for his remarks shocked their traditional ideas. Without noticing this impression he continued:--
"'I ought not to forget that I am a Jew, and to keep my faith in the citadel of my soul, but outwardly appear in the world on an equal footing with other men, as all sensible Jews do, in strange countries, and even in the kingdom of Poland. I have examined this lad attentively. He is worthy of Israel. I will occupy myself with his education, but we must send him to the Christian schools. He must commence to go to them here. Afterward send him to me, and I will take care of him.'
"'You are our benefactor!' cried my mother. 'But you know that many of our people have abandoned their belief, and are equally despised by the Jews and the Christians. How, then, will he preserve his paternal traditions?'
"'And why should he not preserve them? You must banish your puerile fears, otherwise he will vegetate like a good-for-nothing in rags and misery, where you are, instead of being like me. I still remain a Jew. I go to the synagogue, and I observe the law, but no doubt less strictly than you.'
"All this conversation is engraven in my memory, and it fixed my destiny.
"Having learned that our kinsman had arrived from Warsaw, Abraham Machnowiecki, the oracle of the Jews in our town, came to pay us a visit. His was a common type in our community; he was a Polish Jew of the old school, a Polish Israelite, though he could not give so complete an account of his descent as Mickiewicz has so well set forth in his Jankiel. Abraham was an important man in his part of the country. He had continual relations with all the proprietors. He knew their families, their situation, their business, in a word, all that concerned them. He was much interested in electoral meetings. He was consulted on all subjects, and in the most delicate affairs he was often chosen arbiter. He was esteemed because he was worthy of esteem; he was received everywhere with courtesy, and offered a place of honour, while his co-religionists were left standing at the door. Without Abraham nothing of importance was done. His bearing was full of dignity; he was very tall, and wore a white beard, which fell almost to his girdle. His ordinary costume was a black redingote, a czapka of sable, and in summer a wide-brimmed felt hat. A silver-headed cane completed the dress, by which he was recognized from a distance.
"In his dwelling, which was one of the best of the neighbourhood, there were always visitors on business. He was the banker of half the proprietors, and he lent or procured money.
"The science of Abraham went no further than that of most Jews, but he had a quick intelligence and a great knowledge of men. His predominant quality was an imperturbable calmness. He was never annoyed, never gave any signs of impatience, and showed in all things an undisturbed moderation. He was not communicative, words came slowly from his lips, and he was thoroughly trustworthy. Very much attached to his faith and its customs, he was yet not a fanatic.
"This oracle so generally respected was absolutely devoid of pride. He did not demand the consideration which was naturally given him.
"The appearance of Abraham at our house was rare, and you may infer that this extraordinary circumstance was owing to an invitation from my mother, who felt the need of his advice. Our elegant kinsman seemed less sympathetic before the grave Abraham. His somewhat frivolous manner became more offensive compared with the conduct of the other Israelite, who was, at the same time, dignified and amiable. The meeting of these men--one of whom, a free thinker, had lost almost all traces of Judaism; the other, a biblical character--was very interesting and aroused my curiosity.
"Our relative, in all the pride of a man full of his own importance, was hardly polite to the old man. My mother's cousin did not abandon his cigar, and began to laugh on regarding the Jew's long curly hair, iamulka, the old-fashioned costume, and gigantic cane.
"It did not take Abraham long to recognize in our kinsman a type of modern Jew that he had often met before.
"'It is very kind of you,' said he, 'to take an interest in this unfortunate family. Would to God every one would do the same! The book Nedarin says: "Honour the sons of the poor who are the brightness of our religion."'
"'I wish to do so truly,' replied the Varsovien carelessly. 'I wish to make of this young relative a sound and healthy branch of our community. That is why I have proposed to send him to school with the other children.'
"'You will cast him in the fire to see if he is gold? If he be gold, he will remain gold; if he be of base metal, he will melt.'
"'They tell me he has good faculties. It is necessary to develop them.'
"'Provided that he does not lose his faith. That is why I think that it will not do to remove him from our schools until he is well grounded in his religion. When the potter wishes to make an impression on a vase of clay, he sees that the vase goes to the studio soft and plastic.'
"'How old is he?' asked our cousin.
"'Thirteen years.'
"'You have probably,' continued he, 'a good common school here; he must go to it.'
"'Why not?' replied Abraham; 'but the poor child will suffer much.'
"'Who, then, has not had trials? You see me. I am worth to-day two millions, perhaps more, and I commenced by selling blacking and matches in the streets.'
"The old Abraham murmured in a low voice a text from the Book of Judges which said: 'One must endure the sun's bursting rays because it is indispensable to the world.'
"Then he put his hand on my head and blessed me, praying in a low voice, reassured my mother, and the conversation became general. Child as I was, I remember this scene very well. It was shared by many listeners, for the Jews had come from all sides to see this great personage who honoured us with a visit. Our cousin entered into the development of his ideas, which were that the time had come for the Jews to go out and mingle with the world, and to leave the narrow circle where they had remained so long from an exaggerated fear of losing their faith and nationality.
"'We have suffered long enough,' said he. 'We ought to enjoy ourselves to-day, and occupy the place which belongs to one of the most ancient peoples of the earth. We possess rapidity of conception, facility to acquire all the sciences and arts; we have money, which levels everything, and at the same time we are united, and this cohesion can accomplish great things. Why then stagnate scattered in these little country towns? Why not strike out? See the Jews of other lands. You find them in the ministry, the parliament, and in high positions. They march to the conquest of civil and political rights, wherever these rights are still refused them.'
"Abraham listened without contradiction, and appeared sad and thoughtful; as to our other co-religionists they heartily agreed with our kinsman. He finished by citing as example a celebrated Jew.
"This was an epoch which was not soon forgotten in our little town. It provoked a movement which swayed the whole community, with the exception of a few old conservatives. I remained at home the rest of that year, then I entered the common school. It was the first time that a Jew had seated himself on a bench beside Christian children. I knew beforehand what awaited me, but that which I endured surpassed my worst fears.
"The larger part of the scholars were the children of petty nobles or of the bureaucracy, students well grown. Their instincts were more than cruel. It was a veritable torment,--torment unceasing. I grew accustomed to continual attacks, and passed in silence the insults which were showered on me. Jokes about pork were met with, even in the mouths of the masters; what could I do but keep silence? My humility and silence were a sort of defence, The first days were intolerable; but, little by little, I became accustomed to my comrades, and they to me. After a while they left me in peace on my solitary bench. The new method of teaching was strange to me, but awakened in my mind a desire to excel. The knowledge that I had accumulated increased. I resolved to continue my studies, and to wait until the strength of science and of the truth enlightened my mind."