COLUMBIA Wi ii 834K832 Columbia College in the City of Yew York Library. Alex. I. Cotheal. SCHLEMIEL, SCENES FROM THE GHETTO: Studies of Fewish ite. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF LEOPOLD KOMPERT. London: REMINGIUN AND CO. New Bonp Street, W. 1882. [All Rights Reserved.] CONTENTS. Schlemiel ... Old Babele The Randar’s Children Without Authorisation " N\A M4 5 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. SCHLEMIEL. Ovr of a hundred persons of whom you ask the true meaning of the word schlemiel, certainly ninety- nine will take off their hats and very politely beg your pardon for not knowing. The hundredth who will alone be able to tell you, is precisely your servant; and although this avowal may not be altogether modest, he will now undertake the task simply because no one else will do so. Has a man heavy, awkward manners? They would say of him in the ghetto, “He is a schlemiel.” The schlemiel, whenever he drops his bread-and-butter, lets it fall on the buttered side, and while others seize opportunities by the head, the schlemiel almost invariably takes hold of the foot and allows them to escape. In all things he has bad luck. Every morning throughout his whole life he gets up as it were on his left leg. He scarcely knows Fortune otherwise than in a mood which would make a general wish that — 4 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. goddess on the side of his enemy. Put gold into the hand of the schlemiel, and the inhabit- ants of the ghetto will tell you that he will change it into copper: give him copper, and he will turn it into an inferior kind of lead, unfit even to make a bullet for blowing out one’s brains. We see then what a misfortune it is to be born aschlemiel. But it is still more than this; it isa veritable fatum. IT have long been asking myself whether it would not be rash on my part to wish to de- scribe a fatum of this sort. If one—say an author—wants to play with a poignard rusted by such a fatum he ought from the very first moment to exercise extreme care in handling it, lest the weapon, coming suddenly, as it were, to think and to reflect, should turn against him. Thus, after perusing this story to the last page, more than one reader may be inclined to ob- serve— “There is an author who has written the his- tory of a schlemiel, and he is one himself.” No’ matter! The depicted schlemiel and he who depicts him will find their way to the same immortality; for it is certain that the schlemiel is immortal, and the last man _ to quit this world will without doubt be the last schlemiel. SOCHLEMIEL. 5) For the rest I am happy to say that in this his- tory of a fatum the leading part is played not by a poignard, but by an old house. It is easier to guard against the fall of a dwelling than the blow of a dagger. One day the inhabitants of the ghetto had long been expecting the three well-known knocks which with a mallet the beadle was accustomed to give at each door as a notice that it was time to attend the synagogue. These knocks meant. now that a death had occurred in the street ; and those of the faithful who, without waiting for the beadle, made their way towards the synagogue, learned that in the night Rebb Isserl Gloser had suddenly suc- cumbed to a fit of apoplexy. Most of the pedes- trians who heard the news contented themselves with exclaiming devoutly, “ Boruch Dajir Emés!” * for the morning was cold, and icicles hung from the eaves of the houses. Before that large two-storied abode adjoining the butcher’s might have been observed at a very early hour two men, each with a thaleth+ under his arm, engaged in a long conversation. One of them, who was young and very graceful in figure, *“ Praised be the Supreme Judge!” This is the usual formula pronounced on learning the death of an inhabitant of the ghetto. t A silken veil with which a person covers himself to pray more fervently. 6 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. gazed a while with two roguish eyes at the window of the apartment where the corpse lay, and then inquired— “« Well, Koppel, how long do you give him yet? ” “Give whom?” asked the other. “Do you mean Rebb Isserl Gloser? He has been dead nearly two hours.” “Tdiot !” returned the first speaker, “do you think I don’t know what I am saying? I have not gonemad. I mean his son—Schlemiel.” “May I die,” protested Koppel, “may I die if I understand you. You mean Schlemiel? ” “Now mark what Iam going to say,” said the man with the fine figure, his eyes at this moment presenting a singular expression ; “but first of all tell me whether to your knowledge Schlome Katz ever lied, exaggerated, or bragged to anybody ?” To this question Koppel had nothing to say, and remained silent. «‘ Listen, then,” continued the astute speaker. “ Before ten years have passed you will see look-’ ing out at the window of the apartment which now contains the body of Rebb Isserl Gloser a certain man warmly enveloped in a luxurious dressing gown like that worn by the rich adminis- trator of our community. He will be smoking a large silver-mounted pipe, and his name will be Schlome Katz.” SCHLEMIEL. 7 “Are you mad? Schlome!” cried Koppel with a laugh. «“ Laugh as much as you like,” returned the other. ‘Look upon me, if you choose, as a liar, and say that Iam not even worth spitting on. Recollect, however, the proverb which our pea- sants repeat: ‘You show me the window, and I see the door.’ Rebb Isserl Gloser is not yet buried, and I already see myself at his window. But, blockhead as you are, know that I must first enter by the door to drive out the Schlemiel, and that not until this has been done shall I put on my dressing gown. Within ten years hence, if you are passing this place, [ will ask you to exer- cise your memory, and say, ‘Koppel, did I not tell you that this house was mine ?’” Schlome had spoken with animation. When he had finished Koppel regarded him fixedly in the eyes. Then he replied naively— “On my life, Schlome, I believe as people say that you ought to succeed in all your projects ; it was not in vain that you were named Schlome Katz. Like a true cat you have observed the death of Rebb Isserl Gloser, and are now ready to spring upon the Schlemiel. Spring as often as you like, only first make certain that you will not alight in the next world.” “ A perfect schlemiel !” briefly and irritably ex- & co 1 I 8 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. claimed Schlome, who then quitted the scene and walked along a little adjacent street. Koppel went another way. The conversation had been one of those which deal with nothing less than a person’s whole wealth and safety, on which speculations have already been made, without his being in the least able to prevent this sort of mental attack, this act of brigandage committed on his future. The reader knows that we are now in front of Schlemiel’s house ; and if there are certain details with which he is unacquainted, they shall be communicated forthwith. Meanwhile, it is to be regretted that not a word of this conversation reached the ears of Schlemiel, to whom it would have been more valu- able than if his father had left him another house and some additional thousands of florins. Our schlemiel belonged to that class of men which is to be found only in the ghetto. Anschel was his real name; but since his thirteenth year, the inhabitants of the ghetto had always called him Schlemiel. Anschel had at that time made his bar-mitzveh, or in other words had attained the age at which, according to our rabbis, man is capable of supporting the burden of the 613 commandments of God, official as well as ad-~ junctive. Formerly in the Hast the sun soon ripened the blood of Jewish children: why should == ey SCHLEMIEL. 9 not the same sun have the same effect in our German climate where, however, snow often falls at Easter? This day of initiation to the life of a man is for every child a decisive epoch, a white and brilliant pillar which people regard as a sort of milestone; and upon our Anschel the day had broken with all its joys and emotions. It was Saturday. Anschel, according to custom, had to read before the assembled community in a loud and clear voice the chapter in the Thora* ap- pointed for that week. This is not such an easy task as might be imagined; and more than one professor deeply versed in Hebrew grammar would exude blood and water before accomplishing it. In the first place the Thora is not punctuated ; and in the next the reader in pronouncing the words must perform a kind of tune which has its rules and its notes exactly determined, and at the end of which two knocks must be given with a stone. Errors are very easily committed, especially. in presence of a congregation which punishes every fault more severely than a_ theatrical audience would punish a false note escaped from a vocalist ; while in addition to all this the listening faithful have open in their pews before them Bibles duly punctuated and accentuated which enable them to perceive at once the least mistake made. * Pentateuch. 10 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. The consequence is that there are enough whispers and rectifications to drive a man to distraction. As for Anschel, however, he did not feel the slightest apprehension; he was so sure in all matters that even while asleep he would have carried out a design to perfection. When the officiating minister called upon him to mount the stand behind the Thora he advanced with a heart full of courage. Too short to ascend it he bravely got up on the stool which the foresighted minister had provided. All was going on wonderfully well: a rabbi would not have acquitted himself better. Rebb Isserl, Anschel’s father, had several times blown his nose in satisfaction, now and then betraying his emotion. Above, in the seats reserved for women, one of those present had let her head fallon her prayer-book, evidently to hide her tears. This was Anschel’s mother. But while Anschel was progressing thus admirably he: suddenly glanced under the Thora and saw little: Schlome Katz, rather older than himself, who was. at that moment receiving from his father a thump in the side for having stared at the gallery where through the rails some charming faces could be seen, instead of listening to the reader. This circumstance produced such a strong impression on Anschel that simultaneously both his mind and his body lost their equilibrium, and he fell SCHLEMIEL. ps heavily off the stool. ‘The glory of the bar-mitzveh vanished immediately. This incident had a vast influence on the after- life of our friend; it was a milestone inscribed with the name of “ Schlemiel.”” When, troubled and disconcerted, Anschel was retiring, Schlome Katz in a whisper and with a horrible grimace inquired of him, “ What ever makes you such a great schlemiel ?’? As he went along this ap- pellation seemed to become a veritable hyword ; on all sides his ears were assailed with the question, “What ever makes you such a great schlemiel?” People often go about branded with a judg- ment which is not confirmed until years later. The inhabitants of the ghetto had guessed wonderfully the precise nature of our Anschel. Here the reader may appropriately be made ac- quainted more fully with Schlome Katz, a personage who will play an important part in the life of Anschel. Schlome, we must begin by saying, was the latter’s personal enemy. The enmity between them originated with the grandparents of the young men, and rested on a very solid basis; nothing, in fact, less than ahouse. The dwelling which belonged to Rebb Isserl Gloser, had once been in the possession of the Katz family. Schlome’s grandfather was one of those careless, light-hearted men, who prefer: 12 SUENES FROM THE GHETTO. ease to work; and a taste he entertained for gambling soon led to his pretty, two-storied house passing into other hands. It was said in the ghetto that Anschel’s grandfather had won it from him, which was untrue ; the fact, however, being that he had bought it for next to nothing. The Katz family could not resign themselves to losing the much-loved house of their birth. The wound inflicted on them smarted and bled incessantly, as though it had been made with infernal stone; particularly on Satur- days, when old Katz, awaking from his after- dinner nap, used to look through the window of his abode at the beloved building just over the way. Then when he had yawned, he would utter a profound sigh and say to his wife :—“ My father parted with that house a little too readily, and it ought now to belong to his family, in which case I should not be obliged to pay rent. But formerly men did not, it is true, consider their children in the least; and my poor father, in order to live like a lord on Saturday, would have sold six other houses besides.” It will easily be understood that hearing these remarks fifty-two times a year Schlome could scarcely fail to receive them into his soul like so many drops of water which were ‘to end by petrifying. “Schlome,” his parents frequently said to him, “ when you are a man you Se Ee SCHLEMIEL. 13 must try to get back that house, for those who are now init have stolen it from us.” And he always, on these occasions, regarded the edifice with a horrible grimace which seemed to say :— “ Wait till Iam a man, and I will get it back.” The older he became the more deeply did these roots grow in him, until at length they were like a tree with whose branches Schlome could, so to say, at any moment have reached across to the coveted house and lifted it towards him by the hair of its head. The difference between the natures of the two young men had early shown itself. The son of the proprietor of the house was awkward, clumsy, and timid. On the other hand Schlome was quick and nimble, and never lacked an appropriate word. He soon came to the conclusion that he was at liberty to inflict on Schlemiel all kinds of insults, and that in this way his whole time might well be employed. One trait, moreover, in the characters of men like Schlome, is an inability to endure the awkwardness and clumsiness of others, which they find no less unbearable than short boots. They do not regard defects in their neighbours as punishments from above, but as a sort of merchan- dise scattered on the highway, with which the first comer can do as he chooses. Both boys, after their bar-mitzveh, had been 14 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Eg ean Seer A VO eM RE Re hee Se placed in business. Schlome at once set to work with great intelligence, and was soon up to all the artifices and tricks which his calling required. In a very short time he could hold and show an old piece of cloth so as to make it pass for new, exhibit admirably a torn silken ribbon so as to conceal its defects, and treat a sample of printed calico of an antiquated pattern in such a way that it would seem to be of the latest fashion. He amused those who observed him when, sometimes seated upon, at others standing in front of his stall, he cried across the market place “ Lazinj, lazing, kupté!” (come and buy, cheap, cheap), in a manner which drew purchasers in shoals. Then he would pinch the plump cheeks of some rustic lass, shake the brawny hand of a countryman, while of a mother he would, with tender solicitude, inquire after her husband, Pan Waczlaw, or her little Honza, The fact that he was only just aware of the existence of the two last-named persons mattered nothing. In acting thus, Schlome gene- rally attained a double object; his customers willingly paid a trifle more to him than they would have done to another, and people said in speaking of him :—‘‘ Ah, that young Schlome is a clever boy; he will make a great man.” How little did Anschel resemble him in busi- ness matters! His /azinj sounded in the market. SCHLEMIEN. 15 so sad and so unpersuasive that no one was at all surprised that he failed to attract any- body. Yet it could not be said that he lacked goodwill in business, for, on the contrary, he possessed this quality in excess. As in the case, however, of so many men of his nature, Anschel’s goodwill went on such high stilts that it was ever falling to the ground. When he tried to imitate Schlome in pinching the cheeks of fair buyers, he performed the operation so violently as to leave a red mark.on the delicate flesh, or, going to the other extreme, did it so lightly that the squeeze was not even felt. Schlome inall his transactions observed certain rules, and everything he did re- flected credit upon him, in the eyes of the public, as a sensible man ; whereas Anschel nearly always made himself ridiculous. Now he was too forward in displaying goods, now too behindhand. “He is a schlemiel,”’ Rebb Isserl would exclaim sadly ; and the boy’s mother replied nothing, in- wardly hoping, though, that he would alter in time. As he did not alter, Rebb Isserl said later on to his spouse— ‘‘[ wonder where I got this schlemiel? ” and still she kept silence. Several years after, old Isserl, who was taciturn as a rule, broke out with these words— 16 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “T fully expect that he will end by letting this. house slip away into other hands; he is such a perfect schlemiel.” To say that the mother on this occasion held her peace would be insufficient, for she was already dead—and to-day, as the reader knows, another death has occurred in the street. Anschel is still the schlemiel of former years. Not a soul in the ghetto could understand why Anschel made such strange gestures of despair when on the morrow the corpse was lowered into the grave. He trembled all over so violently that when the beadle approached him to make, according to custom, a slit in his coat asa sign of mourning, the penknife cut his hand, and blood began to flow profusely. Seeing him agitated as we have described, those of the bystanders who were in the habit of judg- ing only from what they saw, asked of one another, “But why should he go on like this—isn’t he a man now?” Itis impossible always to tell people everything. There are moments when natures as fatally un- fortunate as Anschel’s at last grow conscious of their misery. The fact was that he had just realized the extent of his loss in the death of his father. Before him he saw his whole past, full of mistakes and blunders; never had his unlucky SCHLEMIEL. 17 star cast upon him such sinister rays. It seemed to him as though the time had come for him to rank as a veritable schlemiel, and that his hopes were about to be interred with the dead. Suddenly, on raising his eyes, he perceived by his side Schlome Katz, who, with terrible activity, was throwing shovelful after shovelful of earth on the coffin; no one in this work could have competed with him. A gloomy reminiscence of his childhood flashed across Anschel’s brain. He saw himself once more with the Thora before him, reading the chapter for the week; then the stool on which he stood fell, and he next heard the malignant voice of Schlome inquiring, “ What makes you such a great schlemiel?” All this explains his strange trembling when the beadle was making an incision in his coat; it seemed to him as though the knife were held by Schlome Katz in person. ‘We regret our inability to present to the reader more than a few detached leaves from the life of Anschel. We shall only speak, then, of what relates to him in his character of schlemiel. As such, a fair sketch of him will not take us long. During the schiewe* Anschel reflected gravely how to transform himself into another man. A thousand different plans occurred to him ; but one * The seven days consecrated to mourning the dead. Cc 18 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. alone he seriously entertained. This was to marry. In the ghetto it is not difficult to find a wife. Already he had attracted the attention of the schadschan,* Rebb Hasch, who, while his father was yet alive, had cast his eyes on Anschel. One day he called on the young man, and, in a very animated conversation, proposed an excellent partner. Anschel was not long making up his mind; and it was arranged that during the ap- proaching cholemoédt he and the agent should go together to a and see her. For the rest, the matter was keptso secret that no one had the least suspicion of Anschel’s projects. The cholemoéd arrived, and he found himself among the number of those on the way to a matrimonial interview to try their luck in getting a wife. Outside the town, where the avenues commence, stood a little one- horse vehicle which was to take our friend to the blessed land of his future wife. Rebb Hasch, the schadschan, had been awaiting him some time; for Anschel wished nobody to know whom he was going with, nor where he was going. The two started on their journey. Anschel sat, in the conveyance without saying a word; in his * A matrimonial agent. His is one of the mantesions of the ghetto. . + A sort of féte agit ‘Paster and. Pentecost. Fe - + 7 Uy (eo SCHLEMIEL. 19 mind he saw ascend as on a new Jacob’s ladder the charming image of his still unknown bride. He did nothing more than go into her presence; and already he felt an altogether different man. Mean- while his companion Rebb Hasch brought out- his phylacteries and began to pray. Anschel had said his prayers at home, preferring to spend the time on the road in reflection. Suddenly, just as they were approaching an inn by the wayside, the schadschan uttered a cry. “ What is it?” asked Anschel. “ On my life,” he said, “ there is Schlome Katz.” “ And what then?” inquired Anschel. The schadschan shook his head; he evidently objected to meeting Schlome Katz, on this par- ticular day at least. Before the inn, which they soon reached, was a carriage drawn by two horses which had been watered. At the door stood Schlome Katz, whom the sharp eyes of Rebb Hasch had espied some distance off. He was filling a silver-mounted | pipe, and during the operation, displayed ences of brilliant rings on his fingers. “Curse it,” exclaimed the schadschan, “ ia 1s also going to have an interview.” “Heaven preserve you,” cried Schlome as they passed before him; “where are you going, Anschel ? ” 20 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Anschel blushed red as a cherry upon seeing that his plans were divined. “Good luck,” added Schlome with a laugh; “now don’t be a schlemiel ! ” For some time after they had passed the inn, Rebb Hasch repeatedly looked behind him; and the ex- pression of his face betrayed uneasiness. Anschel did not understand his anxiety, and asked— “What ever makes you look back in that way?” “T am afraid,” answered Rebb Hasch, “lest Schlome Katz should follow at our heels; he has taken up too favourable a position. Depend upon it he also is going to have an interview.” Thereupon he ordered the driver to go faster ; and it was not till he found himself three leagues ahead of his dangerous enemy that the schad- schan’s peace of mind was restored. The reason was intelligible enough; he felt concern for the fair one they were about to visit. At noon the carriage reached its destination. Anschel was highly satisfied with the effect that his arrival produced in the street. The fact was, however, that people could not help seeing from his face that he was going to a matrimonial interview. While Rebb Hasch in his quality of ambassador was announcing him to his future parents-in-law, Anschel remained in a Jewish tavern. There he had to submit to a severe interrogation on the s— Se —— SCHLEMIEL. 9} part of the hostess as to whence he had come, whither he was going, what was his object and so on. But Anschel was reserved, and did not let the least word escape which could betray him. Soon the schadschan rejoined him and whispered in his ear that all was ready for his reception; upon which they went out together. As they walked towards the house Rebb Hasch gave him excellent advice as to the way in which he should behave in the presence of his intended. He was not to eat too much, but was to make a point of talking a great deal, so that he might appear to be not a gourmand but an agreeable conversationist. He was to show himself very observant, as his sweetheart had been well brought up, spoke French, and had read widely, These last details made Anschel feel rather uncomfort- able; but he plucked up all the courage he could, and entered the house. Just, however, as he was going upstairs he met, coming downstairs, Schlome Katz! He must have got there by a miracle! Anschel shuddered all over upon recognising him ; while as for Schlome, he smiled amicably and wished the other goodluck. Anschel remained on the staircase uncertain how to act. “ Supposing he has anticipated me !”’ he thought. Still he could not believe that this was the case; and anyhow he was a better chance than Schlome. ps SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “She will give me the preference,” he said to himself, and then with heroic courage he opened the door. He found the family quite ready to receive him. The father of the girl came forward with a friendly air, and the mother, a tall woman, with somewhat imperious eyes, saluted him in German. After he had been asked to sit down some refreshments were offered him by his hostess. Anschel had now to answer questions put by the father concerning his family and his fortune. To these inquiries, how- ever, he only half replied, so preoccupied was he with a desire to know if the real object of his visit was pretty. Shortly afterwards the mother, who had left the room, returned with her daughter. The latter held in her hand a plate containing pastry and bon-bons, which she tendered to Anschel. But the young man let it drop as he gazed fixedly at the black eyes of the maiden; and he was so dazzled and fascinated that he con- tinued gazing long after plate, pastry, and bon- bons had fallen from his hand to the floor. The girl giggled, the mother pouted, and the father smilingly observed everything. At table Anschel was placed by the side of the daughter. But the incident which had just occurred had made him gloomy ; and he sat per- fectly silent when he ought to have been charming SCHLEMIEL. 29 his fair neighbour with sparkling wit. Instead of eating but little, he devoured all before him without even observing the pauses required by derech eretz.* The others regarded him with eyes which said a great deal; and though Anschel was conscious of this his unlucky star steadily caused him more and more confusion. He did nothing and said nothing which was not quite con- trary to the advice given him by the schadschan. Suddenly he heard the mistress of the house say in an undertone to the father of the maiden, “ He is really a great schlemiel.”” His blood curdled in his veins; fear seized him, and, once having fallen into this state of mind, his ill luck again asserted itself, After getting up from the table he remained alone with his intended. The father and mother left the young couple, and it was now that the interview properly so called began. Anschel’s fear was boundless when he found himself face to face with her, to whom in the future he would probably have a good deal to say, though now he was utterly at a loss for words. The maiden seemed to be waiting for him to begin the conversation. Drops of perspiration stood on Anschel’s forehead. Sud- denly a light shone in upon him, and he meditated as to how at such a moment Schlome Katz would * Literally the way of the country ; that is, etiquette. 24, SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. behave. Schlome, he thought, would without doubt take the maiden’s hand softly in his, and then squeeze it tenderly, accompanying the move- ment with a graceful phrase ; and the result of this reflection was that Anschel wished to do and actually did the same. But meanwhile he had got so near her that suddenly she uttered an in- voluntary cry. “My corns! my corns!” she said, springing up, and hopping about the room with loud lamentations. “You have corns?” asked the terrified Anschel, “T was not aware of that.” Half laughing, half crying, the maiden con- tinued to hop about. “There can be no doubt,” she exclaimed, “ that your neighbour Katz was right when he told us that ”— “What did he tell you ? ” inquired Anschel. “‘ That you were a schlemiel,” she replied. Anschel did not want to hear another syllable ; what more could be said to him? The word “‘ schlemiel ” was now imprinted on the lips of his beloved. Before asking himself what he was going to do he was outside the door and had closed itafter him. He was going downstairs four steps at a time when he suddenly found himself once more face to face with Schlome Katz. eS Sunumaamnmmesteeee = SCHLEMIEL. 25 “ Well,” said the latter, laughing, “ may I con- gratulate you?” “ Blackguard !’’ muttered Anschel, escaping in all haste. His distress was at first so great that he felt undecided whether he should return home to suffer a trial beyond his strength; for what would he be able to say when people had heard about this interview which covered him with confusion ? Moreover, Schlome Katz would not hesitate to proclaim his misfortune. The idea of returning filled him with dismay: he wished to fly. So in this state of mind he ran out of the town, while Rebb Hasch sought him on all sides. The schadschan ‘was quite as inconsolable as Anschel; he thought of his agency fees. It was not till late at night that Anschel re- entered the town, intending to go to the tavern, get his conveyance ready, and go home. To do this he had, some time before reaching the tavern, to pass the house of his ex-intended. Lights shone brilliantly from the windows, and sounds of joyful daughter reached his ears. “They are making fun of you,” he said to him- self; “Schlome Katz is sitting at her side and saying, whenever he speaks of you, ‘he is a #chlemiel, he is a schlemiel,’ ” 26 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. And with a sense of shame he stooped down to get by. Turning the angle of the street whence the tavern was but a few paces distant, Anschel came to a little house. A light was still burning in it. “‘ Perhaps,” he reflected, “there is a maiden here ;” and urged by an irresistible impulse he approached the window. First he merely stood close to the wall; then, feeling more courageous, he boldly looked through the window into the room. He saw an old man sitting at a table with a book before him—doubt- less a gemara*—in which he seemed absorbed. The lamp stood near him, and the rest of the room was in obscurity, All at once Anschel heard the sound of a voice proceeding from one part of the room. “Father,” it said, “Fischele will not say his evening prayers.” Anschel strained his eyes to see who had just spoken, for the voice had gone right to his heart. Fortunately for Anschel the old man took up the lamp. “ Wait a moment, Fischele,” he said, “I am coming ;” and as he moved along with the lamp in his hand it threw a better light around, and * A Talmudic book. i PE Tay SCHLEMIEL. 27 Anschel saw a young woman sitting by the cot of a little boy. At the father’s approach the child became obedient, and the maiden went on with her task of making him say his prayers. She pronounced the words in a firm voice, and the boy repeated them after her. When she came to the passage, “ On my right is the angel Michael, on my left the angel Gabriel,” &c., Anschel, who had listened breathlessly, could not understand why this evening prayer produced to-day such an unusual effect upon him. It seemed to him as though he himself had never uttered it otherwise than mechanically and incompletely, and that he now heard it offered properly for the first time. Sud- denly the child cried out— “Some one is looking in at the window,” and immediately hid himself under the bedclothes. Anschel would have fled, but he lacked the courage. A voice like that of the maiden seemed to say, “Remain.” He distinctly heard the street door open, and the young woman call to him, Instead of replying in words Anschel followed her indoors, and before he had had time to recover from his surprise, found himself in the room. In a very short time he became as much at home and easy there as if he had lived in the place for years. The father was the sacrificing priest for 28 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. the community; that is to say, he killed beasts and fowls in the manner prescribed by the Mosaic laws. His daughter’s name was Esther. She was a good, pious girl, and Anschel could not take his eyes off her. One thought wholly possessed him. “ Supposing you get engaged to her,” he said to himself, ““You cannot return without a wife; and in be- coming allied to her, you would at the same time be doing a good action. She would love you, and the idea of calling you ‘ schlemiel’ would never enter her head.” He lost no time, but at once solicited Esther's hand. Both father and daughter looked very surprised at the request. Anschel then confined himself to telling them his name, and their surprise turned into joy. When he asked Esther whether she would consent to marry him, she blushed to the white of her eyes, and answered in a low voice— “T find you to my liking.” Fischele, who had heard everything, now pre- cipitately leaped out of bed, crying— “Let me go and find our relations and our friends ; Esther is engaged.” “Tt will be time enough to-morrow,” observed Esther. *¢ Let him alone,” implored the happy Anschel ; SCHLEMIEL. 29 “let the marriage tenowm* be drawn up at once.” In presence of a family assembly convoked by Fischele, and which met there that very night, Anschel was declared to be Esther’s future husband. As to conditions, there were none; the sacrificing priest of the community was poor and consequently could give his daughter no dowry whatever. Is not this a fine piece of romantic heroism in the life of our Anschel? But what will the ghetto say? Already I hear bursts of sardonic laughter and see arrows of raillery flying. A year afterwards Anschel took Esther to his home; she had now become his wife. The marriage had been celebrated in the most joyful manner; and now the young woman was for the first time since the ceremony to be taken to the synagogue. Two women in their best clothes were on their way there. “ Have you seen Schlemiel’s wife yet ?” asked one. “No,” returned the other. “ How is Fradel, the dressmaker ?”’ “ Schlemiel’s wife is all that the wife of a schlemiel ought to be. The keg never loses the smell of the herrings.” * Contract. 30 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “What do you mean ? ” “T mean that she hasa hump back which would do to build a house on.” “‘My opinion is that he might have found as good a woman here without going outside to make his choice. And to say that he did not receive a single florin with her ! ” “‘ But he did not indeed, and he had to give her the very dress and chemise in which she is now clad, not to mention her gold chain, which he bought of Hirsch the jeweller for one hundred florins.” “A schlemiel will remain a schlemiel; nothing can alter him.” Sounds of joyful music suddenly interrupted the conversation of the two gossips. Immediately afterwards a long file of married men dressed in Jéte costume could be seen turning the corner of the street which led to the synagogue. To-day Anschel was for the first time going to the temple in his character of balbos.** He advanced, his face shining with joy, between two friends who had similarly accompanied him on his marriage day and conducted him to the nuptial dais. And if at this moment some one had asked him who was the happiest man in the land, he could easily have re- plied. * Master of a house. SCHLEMIEL. SB Behind him came his wife of two days’ standing amid a crowd of young and aged women, who con- sidered it a duty to go with the new-comer on the oceasion of her first visit to the synagogue. The music consisted of the liveliest airs, and as the procession passed along windows were opened, and people said, gazing with curiosity— ‘Look here; we can now see what kind of a woman Schlemiel’s wife is.” When the synagogue was reached, the music ceased, and the young couple entered, followed by the cortége. Anschel, until he got to his place, was greeted incessantly with the words, “ Masel Tof.” Before commencing to chant the chapter for the week, the reader called Anschel to where the Thora was, accompanying the appeal with a solemn tune. Happy moment ! Meanwhile, according to an old custom which no one was permitted to violate, Esther, in the part of the synagogue reserved for women, dis- tributed Corinth grapes and sweetmeats. The ghetto was to her a foreign, unknown land, and yet she was required to conform to every law of derech eretz.* Amid the laughing and prattle on every side she committed more than one fault, which were severely blamed. “No manners whatever,” observed the stout * Etiquette. $2 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. wife of the governor of the community, as she scornfully curled her upper lip. It must be mentioned that Esther had, in inno- cence, offered the plate of bon-bons to another woman before doing so to her. “My dear Gitel,”’? remarked her neighbour, who found herself in the same case, ‘‘do you think people learn manners amidst geese and fowls. At home she has done nothing but wait for people to send her father birds to slaughter. How could you expect her to know manners ? ”’ «‘She used to scrub the floor, too.” “Yes, my dear Gitel,” added the neighbour with bursts of laughter, “and don’t you ob- serve that she still bears traces of that employ- ment?” These words were pronounced too loudly for the young wife not to hear them. Nothing hurts our sensibility so much as to find ourselves in an ex- traordinary position. Then all our senses are, so to say, on the watch, and our soul exercises activity in a thousand different directions. Oddly enough, Esther suffered less from being reproached with her birth and deficiency in manners than from hearing herself credited with a defect which she really did not possess; for apart from an imper- ceptible inequality in the left shoulder, which the piercing eyes of a woman alone could have dis- SCHLEMIEL. 33 covered, she had no deformity whatever. From shame she quite lost her equanimity, and it was with eyes bewildered that she traversed the thick troop of women who pressed to her side to wish her welcome. During this time, when double service was required from all her faculties, she transgressed derech eretz again and again. In our synagogues there are neither the strains of organs, nor sackbuts, nor incense, to subdue, stupify and relieve the mind, so as to make it forget its afflictions. There, if a tear falls from any eye everybody notices it. Esther shed tears of anxiety and embarrassment, Amid all the whispering, laughter, and prattle, she imagined herself being pointed out as an abominable misshapen thing, and she at length even believed that she was so. The ceremonies came to anend. Anschel re- turned with his wife. The music preceded them with its joyous sounds. Esther was sad and deeply distressed. Anschel asked her what was the matter, and, as he insisted upon knowing, she replied, with sobs :— “Ah! if you had only heard what they said.” “Hold!” he exclaimed, with a profound sigh ; “T would rather you were silent on that subject.” Neither said another word; Esther from female vanity, no doubt, Anschel because he was loath D 34 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. to hear pronounced the sombre formula of his ill luck from which there was no escape. Is it not a melancholy thing to see all the efforts, all the good resolutions of a man brought to nought by the omnipotency of his fate? F're- quently people fight against their bad fortune with lance and club, the field of battle is covered with torrents of blood, and at last when they think the strife is over, they find that old serpent, their fate, still before them. This fate is truly undying. Long years passed without our friend’s making the least progress in public opinion; on the con- trary, he continually fell back. No one wanted to have anything to do with him. Does not the malediction of his Maker, evidently to the eyes of all his fellows, rest upon a schlemiel? If he has money he turns it into lead; if a good idea strikes him it leads to disaster; if he thinks he has an advantage certainly before him it escapes. Who then could desire to enter into relations with him ? Who could wish to fasten the vessel of his existence to the wreck of a storm-beaten ship, immutably devoted to destruction ? In everything Anschel could perceive the aver- sion with which he was regarded. He could never give anybody satisfaction. On Sunday, when every one else was at business, and Anschel was seen quietly standing in the street, people said :— SCHLEMIEL. 35 “Why is he there, when he might be making money ?” If, on the other hand, he preceded the rest, they remarked, “ What ardour! One would fancy he thought business was going to run away.” Frequently he returned from his rounds as early as Thursday, impatient as he was to see his wife and children once more. “Why does he gu home on Thursday?” folks then asked. If, to please his neighbours, he did not return till late on Fri- day, when already lights were shining in honour of the Sabbath, they upbraided him saying :— “He is not only a schlemiel but also a Posche- Isrel.* Thus on all sides Anschel was over- whelmed with reproach, on all sides avoided. As he could never content people, he ended by doing nothing at all—and therein lay his misfortune. . It would be difficult to say precisely where this misfortune began and where it ended. Ina very short time the heritage left by Rebb Isserl had disappeared Anschel knew not how. He had long been aware of Schlome’s projects, for the latter had told all who cared to listen that he had ordered workmen to whitewash his house, and that he only awaited the opportune moment. This news had been charitably borne in all haste to Anschel, whose informants moreover had mentioned a few other designs against him which’ fell like so many * A bad Jew. 36 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. drops of boiling water into his soul. All he could do was to redouble his efforts, but in vain: for Schlome Katz was always at his heels like an evil genius. If Anschel was building his hopes on some speculation, he might know for certain that Schlome would hear of it and anticipate him. If Anschel was going at five o’clock to do a stroke of business somewhere, he would find that Schlome had been there at three. Thousands of demons seemed to note his most secret thoughts in order to convey them to Schlome. Meanwhile the latter had married the beautiful maiden who would be slow to forget her first interview with Anschel. She had without hesitation been given to Schlome, notwith- standing he possessed nothing, and because he had been found a clever young man who knew how to get onin this world. The prophecy uttered by the inhabitants of the ghetto was fulfilled. Schlome had made his way. ‘Now and then on Fridays, as they were both returning home, Anschel and Schlome met together at the entrance to the ghetto. “Business been good?” Schlome habitually inquired, slapping his pouch which was full of money, and fastened by a leather band round his witist. ‘“T am tired out. But no matter, you will not have the house; your efforts are vain.” SCHLEMIEL. oT But, alas! to what purpose does one heroically defend oneself against a far superior power? When misfortune is oppressing a man it shows neither generosity nor humanity, and attacks him before and behind. Anschel now at length perceived that alone he was unable to do anything in business, and he thought of getting a partner. But this idea was of little value, for he could find no one desirous of associating with him. Anschel entreated, implored; he addressed unfeeling persons, and obtained nothing but unkind observations in return, Finally, however, after searching everywhere, he came upon an ally who was willing to give the matter atrial. The ally would be put to little risk, for Anschel was to furnish all the capital, and the profits were to be shared equally. In spite of the terms, Anschel was in ecstasy at his eventual discovery of a partner. For a time all went well. At the end of the first six months the partner took his proportion of the gains, while Anschel allowed his own to remain with the capital. Now times were hard, now they brightened a little. But the result was always the same; gold turned into copper, and copper into bad lead. When Anschel and his partner made up accounts at the end of the year, they found that their losses were very considerable. 38 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. The partner on this occasion got so angry that, striking the table with his clenched fist, he re- peatedly called the other a schlemiel. He at- tributed to Anschel all the bad luck of the enter- prise, regretting one thing only—his ever having placed confidence in him; then he rose and went out in a fury. The next Saturday Esther went to the syna- gogue without her gold chain round her neck. “‘ What has she done with her chain ?” whispered Fradel, the dressmaker, in the ear of a neigh- bour. “ Pledged it at Hirsch, the jeweller’s.” “ Already ? ” “What else was to be expected when she had such a schlemiel for her husband ?” Meanwhile Schlome Katz seemed to be eagerly awaiting the opportune moment to make sure about getting Ais house. He was often heard to say :—‘ If he is not willing to assist my designs, force will be used ; but let things take their course, and I tell you beforehand that Anschel Gloser will come to me and himself propose the house—wait till to-morrow and see.” ‘< Wonderful to relate, from the moment it became known that Anschel was a ruined man he rose somewhat in public opinion. An inner voice told people that upon him was impressed the seal of ee SCHLEMIEL. 39 misfortune, and that to persecute him any longer would be a crime, a deadly sin. They sought therefore to aid and counsel him. It was rather too hard, however, on their part to advise him to sell his house, adding that pur- chasers would be sure to come forward. Anschel’s soul, like a wounded charger, reared against this last proposition; he grew enraged when it was mentioned. “I see,” he then exclaimed, “that Schlome Katz has sent you. Iregard any one who gives me such advice as my greatest enemy. yé will become a schulhlopfer, a thillim,* rather than let my house fall into Schlome Katz’s hands.” Hence- forth Anschel attached an inestimable value to the dwelling. In his eyes there was not enough money in the world to buy it. He clung to it like a ship- wrecked man to the remains of his vessel. As for Esther, she complained but little; she suffered and wept in silence. “If he had not married me,” she thought, “he would have prospered; I alone have been the cause of all his misery.” The term which Schlome Katz had fixed in his mind for Anschel’s continued possession was soon to expire. Misfortune, we all know, is very swift. One day when out on a round, Anschel remem- bered that it was the anniversary of the day on * In every community there are certain poor persons who, for 2 consideration, say prayers at the synagogue on behalf of people who are sick or in danger. 40 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. which he had been led with Esther to the nuptial dais. His heart expanded with soft joy. He saw himself once more at the window of the house in -which he first beheld Esther. Of the evening prayer which Esther had made her little brother say, he heard the words: “On my right is the angel Michael, on my left Gabriel, before me Raphael, behind me Uriel; above me is the majesty of God.” Under the influence of these soothing thoughts he felt awhile happy for the first time during many a long year. In this state he went along as though, at least according to his own view, he had defeated his own luck. He met a peasant carrying a goose to market. This he bought for a piece of cloth, intending to roast it for the approaching Sabbath. The cloth given in exchange was worth certainly three times as much as the bird; but Anschel considered all the same that he had made a good bargain. He walked nine miles with his feathered burden under his arm; and he was so joyous and beaming that those who met him could not help thinking he bore with him a_ priceless treasure. He stopped some hours at the inn situated by the entrance to the town; for it was daylight, and he could scarcely, except in darkness, go through the ghetto with his live dinner. He waited for the arrival of night. . SCHLEMIEL. AL “Oh, look, what has father brought?” cried little Schimmele, when Anschel got home with his burden, whieh he had prudently concealed under his great coat. He let it fall to the ground. “A goose, a goose!” Schimmele gleefully shouted, as he clapped his hands. Esther smiled. “Now see, Hsther,” said Anschel, “if this goose does not bring us good luck. It is exactly ten years ago to-day that we were led to the chuppe.* Let us have a good Saturday with this bird; it will do us no harm to be happy once more for an hour or two.” He spoke these words with such great confidence in the future that one might have thought he had a written and sealed promise that his luck should change favourably. Although it was only Wednesday, Anschel re- mained at home, setting business aside for the while. He wished to sanctify himself, as it were, for the coming féte day, as our ancestors used to do at the foot of Sinai. Saturday had arrived. Anschel was sitting at the table, surrounded by the numerous little mem- bers of his family. Esther’s features were covered with a transparent blush—a delicate gauze with shining joy beneath it. It was easy to see that she placed hopes in her husband. * Nuptial dais. 42 ‘ SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. When the washing of hands had taken place and Anschel had blessed the white Sabbath-bread, the happiness of the family commenced. “To-day my children,” said the father, “ you may eat and drink whatever you like; it is ten years ago to-day that your mother and I, after our Chassen * were for the first time led in procession to the synagogue.” “Was I there too? ” asked little Schimmele. Esther coloured ; but Anschel growing happier every moment replied— “No Schimmele, you were not there; but, to in- demnify you, I have taken from the marriage re- past and put aside for you a great slice of goose.” Schimmele could not have been more delighted at the attention shown him by his father; and Anschel intoxicated with joy, thought— “Can Schlome Katz, though he is Schlome Katz, know the bliss of such a schabbes? To do so he would require children.” At length the goose was served up. It was ex- cellently roasted, and so to speak, shone in the dish, imparting pleasure around. Anschel wanted to carve it himself, and took the carving-knife. Then he tucked up his shirt sleeves so as not to splash them, and with great solemnity began his. important task. * Marriage. SCHLEMIEL. 43; We must not attempt to depict his features during the operation. Apart from a very visible preoccupation in his work, it may be said that they were transfigured. The bird, after the carving had been done, was still before Anschel, when young Schimmele ex- claimed— ‘«‘ Look here, there is a little nail buried in the goose.” ‘¢ Where?” asked Anschel and Esther both at once. The child pointed out the place; a small nail was really in the flesh. Anschel, as though paralysed, dropped his knife ; he turned paler than the table cloth. Hsther immediately took up the dish containing the goose, and told Schimmele to hasten with it to the Rabbi, and ask him if it was not ¢érefe.* The child took the dish, enveloped itin a napkin, and went off quickly to the Rabbi. Meanwhile a melancholy silence reigned in the room. Anschel kept his eyes cast down, and Esther looked before her without saying a word. Misfortune seemed to hover in the room. * Trefe means what is impure. The Talmud contains a great number of regulations on this subject. Internal wounds in crea- tures which it is permitted to eat make them impure. Only a Rabbi, or one specially qualified can decide whether a thing is. trefe or koscher. This right of decision is called paskenen. AA, SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. In a few minutes Schimmele returned; his visage gave little hope—tears stood in his eyes. “Well,” said Esther. “ el “Cea SOHLEMIEL. 45 There is but one day in the year when Schlome Katz is an altogether different man; this is the Kippur day.* Throughout this day he never leaves the synagogue, praying and mortifying him- self continually ; and when the chanter comes to the passage, “ What shall save us in the anguish of death?” to which the faithful reply, “‘ Prayer, righteousness, and repentance,” then he may be heard sobbing loudly, and violently striking his breast as a sign of contrition. As he has no children, he takes care of Anschel’s orphans and his widow. The very day of selling the house, Anschel went from home; he did not return. Several weeks afterwards some peasants in the vicinity brought back his dead body, which they had found in a field, washed up by the river. It was believed that a misfortune had happened to him. His burial took place. One of the grave-diggers slipped on the heap of humid earth just thrown up, and at the same time let go the corpse, which he held by the feet. It rolled precipitately into the grave. *chlome Katz, who was present, said— “May he pardon me; but he is a schlemiel even now !” This was the last stone cast at the unfortunate man, * Day of reconciliation. , { i | | | OLD BABELE. rg OLD BABELE. A norsy troop of urchins on their way from school were pursuing across the Schlossberg of Presburg a crazy old woman. It was truly pitiable to see the woman with disordered attire dragging herself along to get away from her inexorable persecutors. A large packet which she held in her hands fell to the ground as, in the course of her flight, she chas- tised them. Beneath her dirty bonnet hung tresses of grey hair, and from her pale lips came frequent maledictions. , “ Hendel, where is your child?” cried the chil- dren. “What have you done with your child, Hendel? ” And every time the inquiry was made by the merry little band a most visible change took place in the countenance of the idiot. Her face was then asit were swept by a hurricane which dis- persed the clouds of imbecility ; and reason seemed to return tranquil and triumphant, like a quarter of the moon long obscured. The urchins had driven the old woman across the entire slope of the Schlossberg. Not one pious E 50 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. soul had intervened to reproach them with their bad behaviour. When they are never inter- fered with, men learn to hate and to persecute. The children had chased their victim to the Palffy garden, at the spot where its green gates open into the street of the Jews. As always happens there was one strong-minded boy among them, whom unconsciously they all obeyed, carry- ing out whatever orders he chose to give them in virtue of his omnipotence, whether usurped or sanc- tioned. He was called dark Maierl, from his complexion, the colour of which differed little from that of the negro skins which, out of simple love for historical souvenirs, are still exhibited in some American markets. If at this moment any one had seen dark Maierl with flushed cheeks running after the poor mad woman, and exciting by his sallies endless laughter from his companions, that person’s heart would certainly have bled under the impression of a sad presentiment. He would have felt inclined to stop the boy,and say— “Why are you persecuting that old woman ? Wait till the furrows of disillusion have roughened your brow, and the vitriol of the world has burnt your lips, and then, if you dare, you may persecute madness wherever you meet with it.” But no one came forward to speak to him thus, and dark Maierl continued to cry and rejoice in OLD BABELE. 51 such a way that by, himself, without the aid of trumpets and tymbals, he could have brought down the walls of Jericho. Ah! if black Maierl had been there at the time ! Near the green gates of the Palffy garden stood generally a heap of stones to fill up the hollows made in the street during the bad weather, It was on this heap that the terrible boy proposed to push the crazy Hendel, so that her fall might furnish a fresh occasion for laughter and plea- santry. But matters went in a very different direction from that which Maierl had hoped. Just when, supported by his enthusiastic companions, he was shouting louder than ever, “ Hendel, where is your child?” it seemed as though her soul had become relieved of an enormous weight which it had borne for many years. Over her features something had spread which resembled neither madness nor sanity. Urged by a kind of instinct of revenge, quite animal inits nature, she moved to the heap of stones, and seizing one, threw it as she turned towards her persecutors. The stone, as if endowed with will and great force and charmed by the woman’s imprecations, sped through the air until it struck dark Maierl on the temple. He fell immediately. The sight of blood causes reflection. Seeing 52 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. dark Maierl stretched out on the ground with his temple cut open, and blood pouring from the wound, the other boys ceased their cries. They stood mutely round their disabled chief. They had at once lost all desire to continue their fine proceedings. The mad woman escaped. People ran to the scene from their houses and shops, the men form- ing a group about the boy. His cheeks were no longer dark as before, but deadly pale, like cloth beginning to bleach. Many of the new-comers were consequently unable to recognise him; be- neath the blood streaming down his cheeks and neck they found it difficult indeed to distinguish dark Maierl, who was nevertheless so well known. There now came up a little woman who was very old and who must have seen the trees in the Palffy garden bud at least eighty times. Addressing one of the bystanders, a gross, fat man, known as Schmoul the innkeeper, she said— _ «What isthe matter, Schmoul? Why all these people in a ring?” «A little boy is lying there,” replied Schmoul, “bathed in his own blood. Hendel the mad woman has wounded him with a stone.” ..'The little woman no sooner set her eyes on the bleeding child than she recognised him. She uttered a cry of terror and, wringing her OLD BABELE. 53 hands above her bonnet of faded gilt spangles, ex- claimed in a voice of lamentation— “Tt is Maierl, my grandson! Maierl, what has happened? What has happened ?” But he was insensible and speechless. “Maierl! Maierl! get up and come home with me.” But.dark Maierl did not stir. His faculties had so completely left him that he did not even hear the voice of his grandmother—a voice which, more than any other human sound, would have been likely to move him. The little woman lamented and wept in a man- ner well calculated to soften even the stone which had wounded Maierl, and which still lay beside him. “Help, good men, help,” she said. ‘“ Don’t you see that he is nearly dead ? Have pity on him, or he will lose every drop of his blood.” “That will do him no harm,” remarked Schmoul by way of consolation. “ But, apart from that, why doesn’t he let people alone ? There isn’t a child who is safe from his hard blows; this will be a lesson to him.” The little woman cast a look full of reproach at the stout speaker. It sufficed to make him Sensible of the wrong he had done. At one bound Schmoul the innkeeper entered the circle, 54 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. raised the boy from the ground, and took him on his shoulders. The blood-covered body of the child hung down his back, and as it was carried along left traces of blood behind. “Is he to be taken to his father’s house on the » hill? ” he inquired of the grandmother. “No, no,” she answered, “take him to mine; it would not do to carry him in this state through the town before everybody.” The fat porter then pantingly ascended the hill, The little woman followed him, striking her hands together, and from the depths of her sad heart heaving frequent sighs. At last they reached a ruined house in which she lived. In this house Schmoul deposited the boy who was deluged with blood. It was a sad, still, little room in which, thanks to the careand lotions lavished on him by his grand- mother, Maierl re-opened his eyes. Outside the window a walnut tree a century old spread out its green branches, filling the apartment with gloom and freshness. In one corner might have been observed a cupboard adorned with cups and glasses. Above it were a number of tablets, on each of which hung a tin plate most carefully wiped and resplendent all over. Opposite, on the wall, enclosed in a frame of black wood, OLD BABELE. 55 was a paper on which could be seen the two lions of Judah with the word Mizrach in gigantic letters over their heads. Underneath was written an important passage from the Bible which, owing tothe height of the paper, could not easily be read. An old-fashioned bed with a little stool by its side, a lamp with seven burners, and a square table, quite as old as the grandmother herself, completed the furniture of the small room. We must yet add, however, a fly brush on the table, and a placid kitten looking with en- vious eyes at some little pots of milk on the hob. What a strange sensation of illness and good health combined our terrible boy experienced when, opening his eyes, he found his little grandmother’s hands resting upon him! He took her bony fingers for so many fans refreshing his blood, and offered her no resistance whatever. First of all she undressed him. The good old woman knelt down to take off his boots, and then successively removed his coat, breeches, and waistcoat; after which she prepared to lift him to the bed which had Jong since been ready to receive him. Hach time she had relieved him of a garment she had uttered in an undertone words which sounded in Maierl’s ears like delicious music. Now suddenly her visage assumed a sad ex- pression, and she commenced to weep. She had 56 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. undressed the boy to his shirt, on which he bore nee his arbeh-kanfes. But alas! in what condition did she find it? The zigehs* hung from the corners of each pocket untied, and to one pocket they were altogether wanting. At this sight the little erandmother raised her voice in lamentation, and uttered loud cries. “Oh, the present age !” she exclaimed, “ when children are forgetful enough to carry injured zigehs. Would I were dead, oh heavens! I should not then behold such things. Maierl, Maierl, you bad boy, what would your Dede + say ifhe knewit? He would certainly go back to his tomb and weep for his grandson so greatly de- generated! But the Schem boruch hut has punished you for becoming such a Posche-Isroel,§ and will punish all who are no better than you. Would this accident ever have happened to you, Maierl, if you had not been so wicked? Alas! alas ! this world no longer contains children who are true Israelites. They have all gone—all, all.” It was in these terms that the grandmother be- wailed, and without doubt her words would on this occasion have borne fruit had the boy heard them ; but he had just had a relapse, and was more ill than before. Seeing his condition, the grand- * Woollen threads. { Him whose name be praised. t Grandfather. § Bad Jew. OLD BABELE. 57 ae ee a a ee ee ee es mother, who during her sermon had let him sink to the floor, uttered a cry of terror, and seized hold of the child. Thanks to cold water lotions from the basin, dark Maierl very soon recovered his senses. His grandmother now gave over lamentation, and before anything else took in hand the task'of getting him on to the bed, which was ‘not done without difficulty. With trembling hands Babele arranged the pillow for him, and then the bedclothes, making him lie so that his feet would keep warm, and covering up his neck and hands. She then took from the table a bunch of keys, and with one of them opened the little chest. Suddenly she coughed drily, evidently an indica- tion that she had just found the object of her eager search. It was a relic dating from a very an- cient epoch—a relic whose ex-possessor had years ago become a prey to worms. It was the Arbeh- Kanfes of her deceased husband ; may he rest in peace |! Babele had preserved it as one preserves an odori- ferous rose picked in springtime from among other flowers. The leaves are put in a book destined long to remain shut, and which is not reopened till years afterwards, when they still exhale a certain perfume. In this perfume seem to float as in a mist the vanished clouds of the past, which 58 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. the hands cannot seize, but which the mind per- ceives. For the present, however, Babele had not time for reminiscences. She seemed to have quite forgotten that there lived formerly a certain Langleser, whose Arbeh-Kanfes was now lying before her. But this part of the estate of the deceased Langleser was in a sense so thoroughly identified with its ancient possessor, that from a single glance at the object, and without any other information, one might have formed an ac- curate idea of the great figure of him to whom it once belonged. Langleser’s Arleh-Kanfes differed little in length from the celebrated bed of His Majesty King Og of Bashan, which, if I re- member aright, was forty ells long. Out of this Arbeh-Kanfes dark Maierl could certainly have had made for himself a coat, breeches, waistcoat, and perhaps, in case of need, also a cap. But Babele had no such thoughts. One thing only occupied her mind—how to get this precious amulet on Maierl. She soon succeeded. The urchin was. now enveloped in his grandfather’s relic as ina warm garment. But Babele had forgotten one essential detail— remember the eighty springs of the trees in the Palffy garden—which did not leave her memory quite clear. The little boy was lying with his. a = , agpantin OLD BABELE. 59° head uncovered. For some time Babele, in her extreme fright, did not know what to do—where to find a head covering! The child’s own cap was impregnated with blood, and could not con- sequently be used. Greatly perplexed, the little woman went all about the room muttering unin- telligibly. Suddenly she seemed transfigured. She had found what she wanted. What do you think it was? Babele’s own Saturday bonnet em- broidered in gold. She put it on the head of the unresisting Maierl. The little boy very much resembled one of those kings of old who are said to have slept with their crowns on. The grandfather’s immense > THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 93: quite frightened, “what a journey you are going to undertake! Are you notafraid of some accident happening to you?” The schnorrer raised his darkened eyes devoutly. “He who has preserved me until now, and has given me wherewith to live for so many years,” he said in a soft voice; “ He who allows me to go through the world, and has placed on my path a Rebb Schmull anda Rachel—blessed be they and their descendants—He will also see that I arrive safely at Jerusalem. I shall be there for the rosch haschone.* I can wait no longer. I must go. If God permits me to return I will bring you back some of the sacred earth, and you also dear Ma- dame Rachel.” The following day was a Saturday. In the afternoon the schnorrer made his customary ex- cursion with Moschele into the country. Mendel was now very silent. The young boy walked by his side without hearing from him a single story. The heat of the sun made them seek the shade ;. and without any particular object they directed their steps towards a little elm wood which cast its green shadows not far from the Randar’s farm.. The light played agreeably through the trees. It was pleasant in the midst of the universal silence of nature to walk beneath branches which were * New Year. 94, SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. musical with songs of birds. Moschele, with joy in his heart, stretched his arms towards a green bough which was hanging in front of him in order to pluck it. ‘“God help you,” cried the beggar suddenly awakened from his dreams, “do you forget that to-day is the Sabbath ? ” “Is it so great asin then,” replied the little boy smiling in an incredulous manner, “to pluck such a beautiful green bough?” “ Silence,” replied the schnorrer half annoyed, “do you think that God gave us the Sabbath for us to go into woods and pluck branches? ‘These branches, like human beings, must have their day of rest. Do you not know that on this day your father allows none of his people to work, and does not touch a piece of money himself. Why should a wretched piece of money which has been extracted from the earth enjoy a benefit denied to a green bough? Don’t do such a thing again Moschele; give me your hand and promise me that you will not pluck branches from trees on the holy Sabbath.” “JT promise you,” said Moschele; and by the manner in which these words were pronounced the schnorrer saw that they came from the heart. A flush of joy then crossed his face; and he looked at the child with profound emotion. * Come Moschele,” he said to him, after some THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 95 moments of silence; “I want to-day to tell you something which I have long had on my soul. I have not been able to do so until now. But the time has at last come. God alone knows whether I shall die on my journey, or what my fate will be. Now I want you never to forget Mendel Wilna; I wish you on the contrary to remember him,” As he spoke thus he threw himself beneath a tree, and Moschele sat down by his side. The re- pose of the Sabbath reigned through the whole of nature. It seemed to be keeping silent its thou- sands of voices in order to give all its attention to the schnorrer’s speech. He began as follows: «‘ Listen Moschele; you are still a child, and your life is like the copybook of a schoolboy, who has only traced a few lines in it. What does King David say: ‘I was once, young and am now old.’ Before very long the copybook will be covered with lines, and one fine day God will take it up. Let there be nothing in it of which you need be ashamed. But what will astonish you most is this; you will think that you yourself have filled the copybook, and yet you will not find six lines in it of your own writing. Thousands of men will write in it, and you will scarcely even hold the pen. You will only write at the dictation of others. But are you listening to me?” Mendel need not have asked this question. The SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. child was full of attention. His entire soul seemed’ to have passed into his eyes; and the words of Mendel flowed before him like a torrent which can be heard but not seen. The schnorrer continued— “You know that you are the son of a rich man;. and even if your father—may he live for a hundred years !—should neglect your education, I know that you will get on all the same. But I also know that your father makes a great mistake if he thinks that his Moschele will be content to re- main in the midst of his oxen and his peasants. Your father, you must see,—may he forgive me—is one of the men of the ancient time. When, after looking at an ox, he can tell directly how much it weighs, or when seated in the midst of his pea- sants he joins them in their gaiety and good humour, he thinks he has done enough and that no more is expected of a Jew. But the world is changed. The Talmud itself does not now help us much. You may bend over it entire nights. When the morning comes you will not be able to make use of it. It will certainly be much better for you to know how to write grammatically a good German letter. I also advise you to study seriously ; for one fine day you willsee me hereagain, and then I shall say to you, ‘ Moschele, do you re- member Mendel Wilna? What have you been studying ; and will you go with me to Jerusalem?” THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 97 “To Jerusalem ?” said the little boy, filled with holy dread. ‘ But are yougoing there now, Rebb Mendel ? Take me with you at once.” “‘ Little mad boy,” replied the schnorrer, with a smile, “ impossible at present. You are too young.” ‘Do only old people go then ?” “No,” replied Mendel, “people go there at every age. But you must understand that Jeru- salem, my Jerusalem, is not yet rebuilt.” “T could help to rebuild it,’ said Moschele, in a dreamy way. “ You cannot do that either; you are not strong enough. Youshould have shoulders like Samson the Strong. Otherwise the burden would be too much for you.” “ But who will rebuild Jerusalem ?” “T,” he exclaimed, in a solemn voice. “ God destines Mendel Wilna for the work. That is why T am now going to Jerusalem the ancient, to form an idea of the task. When you are older you will be able to help, for I see that you are one of those whom I shall need. Wherever there is a Jewish soul I shall knock at the door and call out —‘ Here is Mendel Wilna; he wants to rebuild Jerusalem. Come all of you with him!’ ” While pronouncing these last words the schnorrer had risen. His face was illumined by the rays of the setting sun. He had a strange look. He H 98 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. turned from west to east, where the sombre tints of evening had already fallen. “There,” he said, “‘there is where Jerusalem lies.” Moschele, in his turn, looked towards the east. Suddenly the mendicant made a movement. “TI have something more to show you, Moschele,” he cried; “something which you have not yet seen. Look.” He pulled up the sleeves of his caftan so as to uncover his left arm. ‘‘ What do you see, Moschele?” he said. The boy saw Hebrew letters the colour of blood, which had been cut into the flesh with a sharp knife. “The word Jerusalem,” cried Moschele ; “ Schmah Isroel! It is forbidden to do such things.” | “JT did it all the same,” replied the beggar, raising his voice; “‘ whenever 1 roll the phylac- teries round my arm, I see the word. Do not speak of it to any one; I have shown it to you alone. You will remember this Sabbath day. Now let us go; it is getting late.” Just as they left the wood the day began to decline. In the west the last rays of the sun were still shining. But what was above all visible was thesilent farmhouse of the Randar, the roof of which was crowned as with a glory. Moschele was not looking that way. He walked with. his THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 99 eyes turned towards the east, while Mendel, hold- ing him by the hand, dragged him in the opposite direction. The peasants returning from the fields saluted the little boy and his companion. Coming towards them trotting on a horse harnessed to a plough, was Honza, whose acquaintance we shall soon make. He held in his hand a green bough which he used as a whip. When he saw Moschele he began to smile. But Moschele would not have torn a beugh from its tree. They walked back seriously and in silence. Il.—Tue Great JouRNEY. Tue next day the schnorrer left the house of the Randar to begin his journey. He carried in his hand a long stick, to the end of which was attached a little bundle containing all he possessed. As he passed the threshold he did not fail to kiss devoutly the mezouza, that is to say, the strip of parchment suspended over the door in a case of tin, and bearing the mysterious words, ‘ Schadai,” and ‘* Hear, O Israel!” The Randar and his wife accompanied him as far as the outer door. “TI must remind you once more,” said the Randar, “not to forget to bring me back a little bag filled with earth from Jerusalem. That is a thing which-cannot be had every day.” 100 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “ Tshould first forget myself,” cried the beggar,. much moved. Rebb Schmull was returning to the house when, suddenly his wife exclaimed, “ Moschele, where are you? Come, that Rebb Mendel may give you his benschen.”’ But the Randar’s wife called in vain ; Moschele- did not come. Then, as his good mother did not wish to deprive her child of Mendel’s blessing, she went into the house to see whether he was any- where to be found. But she soon returned, look-. ing quite sad. “JT cannot find him,” she said. “ Rebb Mendel, I cannot let you go until you have blessed my Moschele. I must go and look for him everywhere.” The schnorrer waited patiently. But Moschele could not be found. “Do not keep him waiting any longer, Rachel,” said the Randar, “ Rebb Mendel has a long journey to make. Jerusalem is not just round the corner,” ‘:«T leave him my best blessing,” said the beggar. “No, no,” exclaimed the Randar’s wife, shaking her head, “you shall not move a step, Rebb Mendel, until my Moschele has received your blessing ;” and she once more called for him, and in such a loud voice that one might really have thought her child’s happiness was at stake, and that only the THE RANDAR'S OHILDREN. 101 ibeggar, by laying his hands upon him and blessing him, could ensure his well being. “Come, be calm,” said the Randar, with a bitter-sweet smile, “if people saw you they would ‘burst out laughing.” ‘And do you think I should mind?” replied Rachel, lowering her voice a little. “I should care very little for the mockery of any one who would laugh at a droche.”’* Meanwhile the Randar had walked on with Rebb Mendel. Just as he was turning the corner of the house where suddenly the high road began, he called out, “ By my soul, is not that our Mos- chele ? ” “Where, where?” asked the Randar’s wife, running forward at her husband’s words. Moschele was distant about forty paces. When his parents came up with him they could scarcely keep serious. He had a cane in his hand, and bore fastened round his neck a little bundle. It was the schnorrer in miniature. ‘‘ What has happened to you, Moschele?” cried the mother, with an uneasy smile. ‘‘ Where are you off to? Are you going to start on your travels? ”’ “ Tam going to Jerusalem with Rebb Mendel,” Said the little boy, not hesitating a moment. “To Jerusalem!” said the Randar; and he * Blessing. 102 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. SENSI 2a Red le ela OA Sec ae began to laugh as though Moschele had told him that he was going straight to heaven. The mother enfolded Moschele’s head with her arms, and said to him in a sad voice, “That is a nice thing, Moschele ; and you did not even tell your mother that you wanted to go.” “JT should have come back again,” said Mos- chele, “ as soon as we had built up Jerusalem,” At this answer the Randar laughed more than ever. “Let him go, Rachel,” he said, “ do not stop him. I wish him good-bye. Why-not? He wants to see the world. A pleasant journey to you. When you come back bring something with you for me.” He made a sign to the beggar and to his wife. “ Let him go,” he meant to say, “I am not anxious about him.” But the mother pressed the child more and more tenderly in her arms, as if he had really been on the point of quitting her. The beggar, in presence of this strange scene, remained silent and thoughtful. The Randar, rather vexed at his son’s desire to go on his travels, a desire which Moschele had formed very seriously, said to his wife with a reproachful air :—“< Enough of that; let him go. Good-bye, Moschele, I hope you will be back in time for the Souccoth,”* * Feast of Tabernacles. THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 103 The Randar’s wife gave a last kiss to her child, then one more, and finally the last of all. Then witha peculiar smile she said, “ Well, good-bye, Moschele, and don’t forget your mother.” It seemed as though in this prelude to a sepa-_ ration which was but apparent, she wished to realize to herself beforehand the inevitable separa- tion which must some day take place. One of the enigmas placed around a mother’s heart! Who is wise enough to guess them? “So,” cried the Randar’s wife, speaking to her son once more as she walked away, “you will come back to us for ' Souccoth. Do not disappoint us.” “Do not take him too far, Rebb Mendel,” she whispered to the beggar. Then she turned away. The father and mother went homewards. The child took a few steps, but not towards the paternal abode. In the midst of this scene the schnorrer remained uncertain what todo. Mean- while he went to the side of the little boy, as if he had really consented to his proposal and looked upon him as a faithful companion for the whole of the long journey. Moschele walked bravely ahead. The pair were already at some distance from the farm when the wind, beginning to blow, dried up the last of the tears with which his mother’s parting kisses had filled Moschele’s eyes. After a quarter of an hour’s walk, Mendel said. 104 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. to Moschele, without laying stress on bis words— “ Are you not tired, Moschele ? ” ‘* Not in the least, Rebb Mendel.” The schnorrer said no more. They walked with firm steps. But after atime he stopped again. «You must be tired now,” he said, “I can see it.” “What do you see it in, Rebb Mendel?” re- plied Moschele, quite mortified. “Am I not always in front of you?” “Very well,” said the schnorrer with a laugh, “let us continue our journey.” A little further on Mendel said again, “I am sure you can scarcely walk another step.” The young boy made no reply. His eyes were full of tears and of anger, and he continued to walk on more briskly than ever, pretending not to have heard. Mendel now found himself in a great difficulty. Was he not the cause of the child’s persistence ? How was he to get out of his head the idea he had himself placed there? It seemed impossible. “Do you want to wear your feet out?” he‘cried at last. ‘ How can I take you with me?” ““Rebb Mendel! ” cried the child from the bottom of his soul. This violent exclamation frightened the schnorrer. Abashed, he covered his face with his hands. He sighed and groaned as though he had a great crime on his conscience. Then taking the child’s hand, he said tohim, “ You will think, THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 105 Moschele, that I have been laughing at you; and you will look upon Mendel Wilna as your greatest enemy. Little mad boy that you are! Do you think seriously that I am going to take you to Jerusalem? You must be a good many years older before that. But now do not break my heart, and go back home, Moschele. Your father and mother will be anxious about you. Go back dear child.” It happens sometimes that, by a curious sort of instinct, children see the limits at which their happy illusions must come to an end. At the sound of the wind which blows down their card palaces, they feel that they must renounce their wild hopes. Their resignation and their courage are really heroic when they find themselves stand- ing amid the ruins of their happiness. Men are sometimes not so brave. How many of them hold still in their hands the green branch of certain inclinations and certain dreams, when, properly regarded, its withered leaves should fill them with shame ! Moschele saw at once from the last words of the schnorrer that it was all over with his journey. Without speaking a word he turned his steps homewards, and walked towards the house. “‘Do you not wish me to bless you,” cried Men- del, from the bottom of his heart. For the second time the voice of his friend had 106 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. its effect. Moschele returned. Mendel laid his: hands on his head and blessed him, as Jacob blessed Ephraim and Manasseh. This time it was Mos- chele who was in a hurry to get back. He was impatient to escape from a heaven now half de- stroyed; a heaven which he had himself created and adorned with the most brilliant stars. When Moschele found himself once more at the entrance to the village which he had but recently left, he was very sad. At the door of her house stood Baruschka, who had been his nurse. When she saw the little boy she called to him. But Mos- chele who, as a rule, did not pass without entering, lowered his head and passed on; and when she called a second time he looked round, but immediately afterwards, like a frightened animal, took to his heels. At the back of the village he pulled up. He had almost lost his breath. After 2 moment’s repose he again went on rapidly, describing round the village a large circuit. There were no peasants in the field, for it was Sunday. He reached the elm wood where the birds were singing delightfully on the very trees beneath which he had walked the day before with Mendel. From one of them he tore down a branch and placed it in his cap, doing so perhaps from a vague feeling of vengeance against his old friend. He afterwards sat down on the bank of the rivulet THE RANDARS OHILDREN. 107 which winds close to the forest, and plunged the green branch intoits stream. For some moments he amused himself by looking at the water flow- ing through the leaves. Then he began to whip the water with the branch, and did not stop until all the leaves had fallen, so that he had nothing in his hand but the naked stick. Then he threw away the stick and got up. He at last arrived close to the Randavr’s house, but he had not courage enough to go in before every one. He accordingly passed round by the wall of the court-yard, and got over it at a place where a hay-loft adjoined it. With- out observing whether in the court yard there was any witness of his shame, he climbed up the narrow ladder leading to the hay- loft. The pigeons, disturbed by his approach, flew out. Then he concealed himself in the newly cut, sweet-smelling hay, and began to weep bitterly. Hannele alone had seen him. She at once told her mother. The Randar’s wife thought the child would fall iil if he remained lying down in the hay. But Rebb Schmull said to her with a laugh :— “Let him wear out his folly, Rachel; the hay will not hurt him.” The Randar’s wife, however, shook her head. An inner voice said to her that her child had sufficiently expiated his error by the de- struction of his illusions. She went into the court- 108 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. yard, and at the foot of the ladder leading to the hay-loft cried out—“ Moschele, won’t you come down to your mother ?”’ It was not until she had called him three times that the little boy appeared. The mother in no way reproached him. She dried with her kisses the tears which filled his eyes, and brought him back to the house. III.—Soctat Rewations. Styce the day when he had failed so unhappily in his project of a journey to the Holy Land, con- siderable changes had taken place in Moschele’s life. The Rabbi who had formerly complained so much of Moschele’s hard head could not now find praise enough for the clearness of his intellect and the loftiness of his views. Moschele had, with extreme rapidity, read the Bible from one end to the other. He was never tired, and always wanted to go on studying. The Rabbi could not imagine the source of this extreme activity. It had a holy origin; but that did not prevent him from attri- buting it all to himself. One day, when they were studying the third book of Moses, which treats THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 109° of the duties of priests and Levites, his friend Moschele put to him this question— “Tell me, Rabbi, how could Moses know before-: hand all that would be required from the priests at Jerusalem ? ” “God taught him,” was the answer; “God, on Mount Horeb, communicated to the prophet all the contents of the Thora.” ‘Then Moses’s Rabbi was God ? ” ‘“‘ For forty days and forty nights God instructed him in every way. If Moses, our master, forgot any- thing, God at once reminded him of it; and thus it came to pass that Moses did not forget one single line of the Thora. He wrote out from memory the Pentateuch, the Prophets and the Scriptures.” * And without making any mistake ?” “ How silly you are; what mistake could he make with God for his Master ?” In the evening, as he returned to the ghetto,. the Rabbi said to the Randar’s wife— “Pay attention to your Moschele; he is a very intelligent child. He must study the Talmud.” This piece of news was rewarded by three brilliant silver pieces which the Randar’s wife placed in his hands, thrusting at the same time a pound of coffee into his pocket. “Tell that to my husband,” she said to the 110 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Rabbi, “he does not think our Moschele capable of learning anything.” Tt was fortunate for Moschele that he had not passed his early years in a ghetto. There if some Rabbi had proposed to his parents to make him read the Gemara he would have had to doit. But the Talmud was to the taste neither of the Randar nor of his wife. Rebb Schmull was always the careless man we know him to be. Hedid not care much about the education of his children. Who knows? Per- haps without being aware of it he was obeying an instinct of common-sense. The education which the Jews receive is really a curious enigma. From a very early age children are nourished at a source from which has sprang for thousands of years the torrent of the ineffable. These children ripen soon; their perceptions are cultivated and sharpened. The holy and im- mortal book is placed without the slightest suppression quite entire in their hands. They can play with it as with a two-edged knife. Whilst to children who are taught to make the sign of the cross, pages arbitrarily detached from the Scriptures are alone given, the Jewish child has the whole of them beneath his eyes. No power, secular or religious, forbids him to read such and such a passage. He is free to examine, to in- THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. vit terpret and to subtilize as he pleases. Has not this an incalculable significance for the future ? There are many other inconveniences from which our Moschele will be preserved, and from which he could not have escaped had he passed his earlier years in a ghetto. The trees of the forest which oppressed so often the heart of the Randar’s wife, had at least one thing good about them; they grew free and straight in the open air. It is certainly an excellent plan to allow children thus to grow up of themselves. But unfortunately this truth is perceived only by a small number. As for leaving the child to take care of itself, not in- terfering with the growth, so to say, of its heart and soul, while still endeavouring to communicate to it the most salutary impressions—that is a matter which very few parents understand. There is always in family life a certain amount of mud which gets mixed with the limpid stream of youth. Purification will be a matter of time. But meanwhile the mud penetrates into the most holy parts of our being. There is a name for that; we then say that it is impossible to get rid of first impressions. - The world in which the Randar’s children lived was a singular one. Although born and brought up in the village they were still not villagers. ‘Though living im the midst of peasants they wore 112 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. the clothes that are worn in towns ; a circumstance: which kept them ata certain distance from the children around them. The Randar’s wife took care moreover that it should be so; and that is why the trees of the forest, that is to say, Moschele and Hannele, had no companions but each other. The Randar himself had, in a general way,. adopted the rural tone. He was half a peasant. He had indeed passed his entire life in the village. He was familiar with its history. Thence arose a singular mixture of things. He had a good deal of the peasantry about him; he possessed more than one of their characteristics. Like them he was little-minded, headstrong, and narrow in his views ; but nevertheless he was greatly their superior. He had more intelligence, as was natural, consider- ing his occupation. Often he would say, “TI live by my peasants.” This avowal was the key to much. Pan Schmull was, properly speaking, a lord of the village; and the peasants acknowledged him willingly as their suzerain. He drank from the: same glass as they; said “ thou”’ to them, and did not mind being embraced by them when they had drunk too much beer. The Jew and his house had a singular attraction for them. An inter-. change of good offices went on there from which every one derived advantage. THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. - Ps When the peasants entered the Randar’s house they saluted him in these words, “Blessed be Jesus Christ ;” and Rebb Schmull replied, “ For ever and ever,amen.”* The peasants uttered these words with a certain naiveté, without altogether knowing what they said. As for the Randar, he knew well enough; but it was necessary for him to live. For the rest, in religious matters Rebb Schmull and the peasants made concessions to one another. He accompanied the glorification of Jesus Christ with his amen; but that did not prevent him from giving himself up in their com- pany to his devotions. Often he could be seen walking about among the peasants with his phylacteries tied round his head and his arm; and it will perhaps be thought strange that it occurred to none of them to laugh. “Pan Schmull is at his prayers,” they would say when the Randar, reciting the Schmona Hsre, went into a corner, and in presence of all the Slavonian peasants sounded the language of Zion. The peasants then pushed their glasses together and whispered during the whole time that the prayer lasted. Perhaps the Rundar thus kept the peasants in respect, for often he performed among them the functions of arbiter. All the history of the village passed in * The salutations habitually exchanged among Slavonian peasants.—T RaANSLATOR. Wait) ++ Uae 114 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. fact in the inn; and the Randar held in his hands every thread of this history. It was here that the sharpest quarrels took place, that the loudest harangues were pronounced. On one side were uttered complaints against officials, on the other curses against the task work. The inn was a sort of theatre in which every kind of passion could be exhibited. Ifa dispute became serious the Randar at once settled it. It was his interest to see the two parties live in harmony beneath his roof. He displayed wonderful talent in circumstances of this kind. He waited until a pitch of excitement had been reached which seemed to foretell at any momenta sanguinary result. It was only then that he came forward as intermediary. He called upon everyone to be silent, and in a long discourse began by summing up, elucidating, and finally smoothing down the subject of contention ; for, as presented by him, things took quite another aspect. Having done this he addressed himself every mo- ment to one of the leaders in the quarrel. “ Come, Pawel, am I not right?” And the man thus challenged replied in the affirmative. Then, turn- ing to another one, he said, ‘*‘ Waczlaw, what have you to answer to that? ”? and so on until he had put every one in the wrong except himself. The peasants scarcely ever saw through these tactics, and they always ended by saying, ‘‘ Pan Schmull is indeed a clever man,” and their respect for the CC : Vay THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 115 Randar increased by several degrees. It is sad, but it must be avowed, that in his inward heart the Randar despised the peasants. They were too superstitious for him ; and as moreover his rhetoric imposed upon them, he regarded them as very inferior to himself. Such errors are common to many men. : When on Sundays dancing was going on in the inn, the children were never allowed to enter. During this time they were shut up in a room by themselves where the sound of the rejoicings of an intoxicated crowd could not reach them. “ What do you want here? ” said the Randar’s wife one day to Moschele, who wished to enter the large room, “ do you want to see Honza and Wasta drunk, and trying to cut one another’s throats ? What pleasure can it be to see a drunken peagant ? Thank God, with your hands raised to heaven that you are saved from such a sight.” Then she added, “We Jews are not made for this sort of thing. One must be a peasant to remain all day long in an inn; is that an example to follow?” Another day Moschele wished to taste the white spirit which the peasants found so much to their liking that it was necessary every day to provide an immense bottle of it. Then the Randar’s wife cried out as if he had asked for poison. “Schmah Isroel! Do you want to drink brandy ? —— 116 SUENES FROM THE GHETTO. Do you forget that you are the son of Rebb Schmull? What Jewish child born of honest parents drinks brandy? Brandy is for peasants: alone. Drink two drops of it only, and you will lose your sechel.’’* We are already acquainted with Moschele’s friends the beggars. But he and Hannele had in the village another acquaintance; I mean Honza, the little boy with the green bough. He divided himself between the two children. But Hannele possessed the greater part of his friendship. Honza was intended for a studious life ; he was to embrace the ecclesiastical career, and for some time past he had been learning Latin from the priest. This circumstance had a “great effect in placing them on an equality; and the wife of the Randar was pleased with the relations existing between them. Tt must be admitted that if the friendship exist- ing between these children was not so firm as might have been desired, the Jewish Sabbath had much to do with it. That day, indeed, Moschele and Han- nele were not called upon to work ; whereas Honza went to the priest. On Sunday, on the other hand, the old Rabbi came from the ghetto to work with the children, and then Honza on his side was free. Thus it happened that they did not see one another so often as they would have liked. * Wits, ene THE RANDAR’S OHILDREN. Ete Hannele was the chief sufferer from this; for, since the departure of Mendel Wilna, Moschele had found a silent and mysterious companion, of whose society he was never tired. This companion was himself. With time, however, Hannele had found a compensation. Every Saturday, with her siderl* in her hand, she walked as far as the church, and just outside, where stood a large wooden cross with the figure of the Saviour upon it, repeated the Rabbi’s lesson. To tell the truth, she went there only to wait until the clock struck four; for then Honza left his clerical tutor, and came to have a talk with her. Their con- versation always began in the following manner : “Have you brought any?” was Honza’s first question. Then Hannele made, with a smile, a little sign of assent, and took from one of her apron pockets a paper containing something which Honza saluted each time with greedy eyes. It was a piece of barches, or Sabbath bread, which Hannele had saved him from her own par- ticular portion. This barches had become an object of great jealousy; for the other little boys in the village, whenever they saw Honza with his mouth full, said— ‘There is Honza again with his Jewish wife.” Honza behaved like a sensible child. He paid * Little prayer book. 118 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. very little attention to these pleasantries. Sub- stantially, was he not to be envied? For whereas: the others had no such delicacy except at Christ- mas or at Easter, Honza had it every Saturday. Did not that alone justify his friendship for Hannele ? When he had finished eating, he generally said— “Yes, indeed; the Jews make capital biscuit.’” “You liked it?”? Hannele then would say, The question was quite needless. Often the children’s conversation turned on subjects which one would not have expected to find them talking about; religion, for instance. This, however, happens oftener than people think ; for the word “ God,” which children do not quite understand, preoccupies them for that reason all the more, and takes in their hands all sorts of forms. Once, when Honza had finished his barches, Hannele said to him— “ Now, Honza, you must benschen.” “What does that mean?” asked Honza. “T suppose it is Hebrew.” Hannele, quite ashamed, was obliged to admit that it was indeed Hebrew. Ido not know why this confession made her blush so much. *‘Among us,” she said, by way of explanation, “It means ‘eminens,’”’ replied Moritz; “ dis- tinguished.” “ What do you want more?” said the easy-going Rebb Schmull. “Ts not that enough for a Jew? ”’ Then he remarked that under the rubric “ reli- gion ” nothing was written. “ Why is there nothing here? ” “ Because,” replied Moritz, “1 have not learnt religion.” “That is not well,” said the Randar, shaking his head. ‘* But I shall easily be able to tell whether you still have any religion.” Thereupon supper was served. At the end of the meal Rebb Schmull said to Moritz— “Now prove to me that you are still a Jew. Benche aloud; I want to see if you have forgotten anything.” Moritz did so, and to his father’s entire satis-. faction. When, fatigued as he was, Moritz went to his bedroom and threw off his clothes, the Randar made another experiment, and coming to him said— “My son, I am not yet convinced; show me your Arbeh-Kanfes.” Moritz, with a laugh, removed this sort of scarf and presented it to his father, who went to the light and examined it minutely to see if the zigehs* were still in order. He unrolled them * Woollen threads, ee = rte THE RANDARS OHILDREN. T3S one after the other, and put each of them, upon finding it in good condition, back into the pockets at the corners of the Arbeh-Kanfes. Meanwhile Moritz had got into bed. “And now,” said the indefatigable Rebb Schmull “repeat to me aloud your evening prayer. After that I will leave you.” In vain did the Randar’s wife beg her husband to let the child alone for that day; was he not tired enough? Rebb Schmull was intractable. So Moritz began to mutter the evening prayer ; the Randar followed him attentively to see if he made any mistake. But before the student arrived at this passage: “On my right is the angel Michael, on my left the angel Gabriel ; before me stands Raphael, behind me Uriel, and above] me the majesty of God,” his eyes had closed ; he slept soundly. “Study has done him no harm,” said the Randar in a low voice to Rachel; “he is still the same as in the past.” The mother’s heart bounded with joy; had she not what she desired? He was satisfied. VI.—Two Existrences. In spite of his father’s opinion, Moritz was no longer the Moschele of the past. The Randar’s eyes were not precisely of the kind which 156 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. penetrate to the secrets of the heart. Doubtless he might be able to judge the condition of his Arbeh-Kanfes, and ascertain whether Moritz had forgotten his evening prayer without perceiving in the least the changes which had taken place at the bottom of his young soul. Strange to say, it was only now that Moritz ‘began really to love the village. Although born and brought up among peasants he had, as we have seen, been kept almost entirely from contact with them. We know, moreover, what motives had actuated his parents in this matter. Now that he was becoming a young man more liberty was allowed him. The Randar believed that hence- forth his studies would protect him from all rustic rudeness. Moritz profited by this liberty to observe freely what went on around him with a view to self-in- struction. It was the harvest season. The golden corn was being cut in his father’s fields as everywhere else. ‘So he went into the country among the harvesters. It may seem strange, but Moritz had never before in this life taken part in harvesting. Honza went too. The pranks of the girls, the jealous courtship of the village youths, the wheat arranged in sheaves all over the fields, the carts which trembled under their loads as they went along—these things put Moritz in such a joyous humouy that he felt he a THE RANDARS OHILDREN. 167 must rush forward to join in and sing like every one else. But he did not; his old education had still too great an influence over him. Moritz could behold there at the same time the. fruit and the maledictions, the profit and the pain with which the earth simultaneously presents those who take her gifts. It was not without a deep senti- ment of pity that he saw the peasant, scorched by a burning sun and brandishing his sickle, perform _ the laborious duties of agriculture. When he ob- served him wipe the perspiration from his brow with his shirt sleeve, Moritz himself felt oppressed by the heat. Often the desire seized him to run straight home to the village, go down into his. father’s cellar, and draw can-fulls of fresh beer to take to those working inthe fields. Many things explained themselves to him, and he vaguely understood why the peasants drank so much / “Tt must be admitted,” he said to himself one day when absorbed by one of his rustic ideas, “ it must be admitted that my father and mother are fortunate. They have no need to toil like the peasants. How glad I am, too, that my father is w Randar; he can at least give the peasants drink, What would become of them without my father? The peasant labours and my father supplies him with drink. They are necessary one to another, One thing alone I regret, that the drink is not supplied gratis. .The Emperor ought to require 148 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. this. Whoever does not work has no thirst. I can now understand why my father never drinks more than’a pint. If he takes more he gets a headache, he says. Would he say this if he worked in the fields ? ” Moritz remembered too that his father was far less uneasy than the peasants when slight or heavy hailstorms threatened the fields. How was this? Then he wondered why on his father’s land the men and lads who gathered in the harvest sang neither so loudly nor so gaily as others. He found the reason to be that this land did not belong to his father in his own right. “‘ He cannot, after all, rejoice like the peasant who has cultivated, sown, and harvested himself, My father is obliged to pay rent for his land to the Count; only what remains to him after having done this is his. It is like a student copying his task from another. Can he taste the joy of the one who does his own work ? ” At the commencement of her brother’s studies Hannele had begun to serve in the tavern. The Rabbi’s lessons had long since been given up. The father insisted rigorously upon Hannele’s at least taking part in the business as the valuable services of Moritz were lost to it. She had then to debit customers’ beer and brandy, pay people, and do the duties of a housekeeper. Moritz envied her these functions ; did ‘she not serve drink «| a SS THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 159 to the peasants? On the other hand he suffered cruelly when hearing his father and mother talk of the peasants, above all as they made up the accounts, the Randar named, in their order, those to whom credit was to be refused, and those to whom it was to be given. “So,” he thought, “they will get no more drink!” and the peasants who made up this class seemed to him indeed deserving of pity. But one day when his mother sent some nice broth to the sick child of a peasant woman, Moritz rejoiced infinitely and expressed his joy in words. The mother attributed it to his good heart; but it came from a deeper, a much deeper source. On returning to Bunzlau, the ghetto produced _on him the effect of atomb. He needed time to get used once more to this life. Compared with the impetuous movements of the ghetto, its busi- ness cries and traffic of all kinds, his native village, with its calm and its placidity, seemed to him like one of the Fortunate Islands. Among the noises of the various active professions in the ghetto there were certain false notes which grated terribly on his ears. He now found that the loudest hubbubs which took place in his father’s tavern were much less disagreeable. «‘ These people,” he said to himself from time to time, “are not drunk, and yet they have this effect upon me.” 160 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Whenever he reflected thus he became deeply agitated. When in such a state of mind he was always made the object of considerable raillery on the part of his host and hostess ; it was Salme, above: all, that very dry man, who seemed to make a target of him. “There he is, still in a state of uneasiness,” he said one day when Moritz was more affected than usual. ‘“ Why doesn’t he come to the table? His uneasiness will pass away. You had better give the child a sucking bottle; I have no doubt he would rather live with his peasants than among Jews. There is nothing to be wondered at in that. Nature always comes out.” These ironical remarks did not wound our Moritz. so much as they irritated him. “And why not,” he said with flushed cheeks ; “is the peasant then not a man?” “ Not a man?” asked Salme with a loud burst of laughter. “Who said that? The peasant is aman like you and me; he has two hands, two feet, and two eyes. But do you not prefer a single Jewish soul to a whole village of peasants ?” “JT am thinking,” said Moritz, after a few moments’ hesitation. ‘You are thinking, and hesitate to reply ? ” cried Salme violently. ‘There is the student. Because he has poked his nose a little into books, and goes. THE RANDAR’S OHILDREN. 161 outside to a school under galaches,* he is already convinced that a Jew is not worth more than ared farthing, and my reply, Mr. Student, is that if it is for that you study, your books had better at once be thrown into the fire; they are utterly worthless.” Without suspecting it, rude, frank Salme had struck Moritz precisely at a spot where he was vulnerable. Moritz was not yet built up; and by his religious ideas, the result of his education, he was still too much influenced to perceive the theological art used by Salme, who had just transported a question which was quite ordinary into the domain of reli- gion. More frightened than convinced Moritz lowered his eyes. Salme Floh, conscious of his victory, continued> though in more moderate terms— “You need not feel sorry at what I have just said. It does not affect you in any way; you are a good boy, and never go to your class without having first said your prayers. But these learned, men, if they were allowed, would change us Jews, according to their fancy. It must be admitted, alas, that they are every day becoming more in- fluential ; and if we are not careful they will take away the little of the Thora which still remains. to, * Keclesiastics, 162 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. us. We common people may be said to possess nothing but this piece of the Thora; well, they have but one desire, which is to forbid us to use it. Weare a stumbling-block in their path, I say, as 1 think that we live in bad times. I give money like every other daldos* to have my children pro- perly instructed at school; for now-a-days one must know how to read, write, and calculate. But all that is not enough for our learned men; they have other designs; and so, for example, we have as chief of our community Rebb Schlomeh Blu- menfeld, who, because for some thirty years he has read books, would like us to make our children masons and carpenters. What do you think of that ?”’ Maurice did not suspect the danger Salme saw in following these trades. The trowel and the hatchet seemed to him very inoffensive. So he asked naively — «¢ Would that then be such a dreadful thing?” Salme stared at the boy. ‘Ts there a Thoummef in your village?’’ he inquired, after a long pause. “‘ Certainly.” “Tt is doubtless surmounted by a tower.” « A large, handsome tower with a bell inside.” “Well, and has this tower never needed re- pairing ?” * Father of a family. + Church, THE RANDAR’S OHILDREN. }6o “ During my last stay at home they covered the _ roof with shingle.” “ And among the workman there was of course a Jew? Why not?” “ What an idea, Rebb Salme.” “Well, then, Mr. Student,” cried Salme, whose triumphant voice resounded like the trumpets of Jericho, “was I right or wrong in saying that the Jew cannot and ought not to become either a mason or a carpenter? Do you think then, seriously, that it is permitted to a Jew to demean himself cn a tower and to play thus unworthily with the life which he holds from his Maker ? Ah, I should like to see the Jewish woman who would consent to eat the bread her husband earned in this manner; or the one who would be courageous enough to stand below and look at her husband engaged in employment which exposed him to death at least ten times a day. Schmah Isroel ! It is a profession like this which they would have me teach my child! ” These words produced an indescribable impres- sion upon Moritz. He saw that Rebb Salme was right and wrong at the same time. Had Salme spoken in this way from pure sensibility ? Be this as it may, the boy found nothing to reply. Over the way was the butcher’s, By mere chance it happened that an ox had just been thrown down with a view to ‘slaughter, and the 164: SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. sound of its dying bellows penetrated, bringing trouble with it, into the room where they were sitting. It was like a ray of sunlight thrown into Moritz’s soul. “Well,” said Moritz, after a while, “since it is forbidden to the Jew to become a mason or a car- penter, why does he make himself a butcher? Is it not as hurtful to trade in blood as in mortar or wood ?” Salme looked at the little boy with astonish- ment. This was an insidious question, and he did not know too well how to answer. “On my life,” he exclaimed, “you have some wit, and if it is a gallech* who has taught you this, the argument is perfect. But what would you desire, Moritz?” he continued after some moments’ reflection ; ‘‘ man is obliged to eat meat.” This reason did not appear satisfactory to our Moritz. So he replied— ,{ That is no reason; for if the Almighty had not created oxen ”’— “We should not want butchers,” said Salme, laughing very loudly. He was now happy to turn on the little boy the ice water of his pleasantry. e That is not my meaning,” replied Moritz, annoyed. “Men need to be housed as they need toeat meat; therefore the Almighty wished them to become carpenters and masons.” * Heclesiastic. i i tee THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 165 Salme’s turn had once more come to be sur- prised. “On my life,” he cried, “ you are right. This shows what one may expect who makes his child study. For my own part, I avow that ideas of this kind never enter my head. But listen, I want to make to you on this subject a remark by which you will be able to profit. One day I took part in a Talmudic discussion at Rebb Mendel Bondi’s house. There I heard, you can believe me, that we may read in the Gemara how centuries ago butchers and tanners passed for contemptible persons, and were consequently obliged to live outside at some distance from the community ; the former because they dealt in blood, the latter because they handled skins. So you see our holy Thora has foreseen and replied to everything.” Reciprocally surprised and astonished, Salme and the student put an end to this conversation, abounding in grave and difficult questions. They separated full of esteem for one another; Moritz respected in his host a Talmudic knowledge which he should never have suspected him to possess ; Salme respected the little boy so full of wit, and who learned his wisdom from a gallech. Mendel Wilna was right when long since he had compared the child’s future life to a copybook in which a great number of men were to write. Salme Floh was one of those who wrote in it. 166 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. It was only now that Moritz found himself alto- gether comfortable and at home in Salme’s house. But from this time, too, dangerous doubts began to shake the doors of his young soul. Moritz had many occasions to observe in those with whom he lodged pains and sufferings of quite a different kind from those which had excited his compassion in the village. Under his host’s roof he soon got to know all the tribulations of a Jewish household in the ghetto. He often suffered profoundly when he saw with what toil the poor people gained their livelihood. His hostess kept an old clothes shop in the arcades. Frequently on returning home in the evening her visage was sad as rain—gshe had sold nothing. At the beginning of each week both hus- band and wife were a prey to mortal anguish; some one else might by offering a higher sum have rented their shopin the arcades. Their happiness knew no bounds when they found that the land- lord had increased the rent by a few florins only. As for Salme he wandered whole days in the town and its environs to buy old garments. Then tired out he brought back a gigantic bag, which he had been obliged to carry on his back several leagues of the way. Disgust often took possession of our Moritz, who was accustomed to the ease of his parents, when he saw some of the articles taken out of the bag: =» THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 167 to be exposed; they were clothes half worn out, with holes in them—vile, disgusting mer- chandise. When such old clothes as these had been piled up, Salme sat down and with incredible activity endeavoured to restore to them what lustre he could. His genius in this respect was immense. To make of an old torn pair of breeches two pairs of children’s trousers, to intro- duce the part containing a hole into a coat sleeve so as to impose upon the purchaser, to bring back to newness a crushed hat—all this did not cost him the least mental effort; it was mere play to Salme. Now and then it happened that some rebellious pair of breeches refused to bend to his will. In such a case he knit his brow and put his measure on his pinched lips saying—“I must think about this.” Then Moritz left his books, forgot Alexander Miltiades and Pythagorus, and put his mind to torture in meditating as to what assistance he could render in the matter. Perhaps a secret voice told him that he had better give good counsel to this poor man than occupy himself with personages who had now no need of others’ attentions. And what joy he felt when at length Salme Floh, after long studies, conceived the creative thought of a new pair of breeches! At this moment he was as satisfied as if the scissors 168 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. now pitilessly cutting up the old clothes had been about to cut out for him a happy path in life. It was thus that Salme’s humble profession rose and took a deep significancein the mind of Moritz. Often he asked himself this question— “ Do our peasants work harder, and if so, do they not on the other hand enjoy themselves in their own way, whereas throughout the entire year Salme does not spend the price of a pint of wine ? On Saturday, when he cannot, must not work, he goes to the synagogue and passes there half the day. In the afternoon, when dinner is over, he has his nap or reads a little out of the Ohumech,* and then goes to the Rabbi’s house to take part in some Talmudic discussion. In these things consist all his pleasures. What a spectacle on the con- trary presents itself at home in the village every Sunday!” He grew profoundly religious. He took care not to write on Saturday; and thus it was that on the morrow he had to ask his fellow-scholars to give him the task of the preceding day. But he did not mind that. Still, continually, and now more than ever, even during the Ave Maria, he said his prayer of Schmah Isroel, It was the best way to avoid forgetting in the midst of foreign worship the God of his people, the only and eternal God. When Moritz was back again in the village, and * Bible, THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 169 the sickles were once more laying low the golden ears of corn, while he heard songs on every side, he no longer asked himself why his father’s people were more sombre in character. He was a witness to the peasant’s sweat —but also to his Sunday ! Did there not live in the ghetto a Salme Floh, and was there not there more suffering and more misery ? —— VIL —WueERE 18 THE LanpD oF THE JEW? Morirz now felt arise within himself, like so many chords of an instrument long unstrung— his dreams and imaginations of former days. He thought again of Jerusalem; and the friend of his childhood who wandered all over the world, Mendel Wilna, returned once more to his mind. He smiled, it is true, on remembering the Sunday when with arms and baggage he had started for the holy city; and yet the image of this city re- appeared so clearly before him that he reflected whether he was not then right and whether he would not now do well to rebuild Jerusalem. He had no doubt that this project could be executed—with goodwill. One thing alone had for some time embarrassed him; he could not picture to himself a country inhabited exclusively by Jews. And then what would be the govern- ment of the new Judea, Like all students, Moritz 170 SUENES FROM THE GHETTO. had but a vague idea of what is called a state. A king consecrated by some prophet’s pouring on his head a phial of oil would have answered his pur- pose to perfection; but, on the other hand, how dazzling to his eyes appeared the Roman consuls dressed in the toga preteata, with their lictors carrying bundles of sticks before them. How splendid, above all, seemed to him the tribunes of the people! How proudly they swaggered at the door of the senate to send, like a clap of thunder, into the midst of the assembly to which they could not penetrate, their redoubtable veto when- ever some proposition had displeased them. Then he felt himself to be one of these tribunes; he, too, was just at the door when this question was being discussed: “ Whether the Jews ought to become masons and carpenters.” Behind him stood the crowd, all with visages like that of his host Salme Floh. The crowd shouted, “We do not wish it;” whereupon he hurled into the hall his audacious veto, which made the chief of the Bunzlau community turn pale. But how to get houses built in this new state ? Who would undertake to cover the towers and roofs, since no Jew was willing to follow the trade of mason or carpenter? With a little reflection he succeeded in overcoming the difficulty ; he had simply, to take Christian workmen, who for fair wages would clamber up the most lofty towers. => aan’ a oe THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 17L In the matter of agriculture, he was less em- barrassed. The Jews would become peasants. ‘“‘ If Salme Floh,” he thought, “ can carry on his back a sack as big as a house, he will also be well able to handle the flail for threshing corn ;” but here a no less difficult question presented itself. “ What would happen if the Jews in their character of peasants gave way like the latter to drink?” The idea of the Messiah was closely connected with his project of rebuilding Jerusalem. He had not the least suspicion that he was thus disavow- ing his own plans of reconstruction. At Easter, when in the evening, during the Seder ceremony, and before coming to the passage, “‘ Next year we shall be at Jerusalem,” the door was opened for the Messiah to enter, Moritz each time looked fixedly before him; and as the Messiah did not come in Salme Floh ordered the door to beclosed, adding, with an air of indifference, “So much the worse!” and continuing to chant. But this greatly irritated Moritz. “T bet,” he said, then, “ that you would rather suffer the absence of the Messiah than the loss of one of your customers for secondhand breeches.” In spite of that he often conversed with Salme about the coming of the Messiah. It was on Saturday above all when he could most easily do so. In the week Salme was unapproachable. One day on returning home from the Dobrowitz 172 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. fair, he was in a savage humour—the poor man had gained nothing. “Ah,” said Moritz, touched with compassion, “if the Messiah came now! You would no longer need to go to fairs! ” “Let me alone, with your Messiah,” replied Schlome, in anger. “I have sold altogether two children’s coats, and you speak to me of the Messiah ”— Mendel Wilna must now ere long return; Moritz seemed certain of this. Was it not then time to begin work? Moritz had now reached his fifteenth year. He was familiar with all the acts and deeds of Cesar, Brutus, and Napoleon ; often he felt his heart beat as though it would leap out of his breast—but the most exciting moment of all was when he thought he heard above everything the trumpet of the Messiah. Jupiter, son of Saturn, carrying on his back the beautiful Huropa, Venus, surprised with Mars in the snares of Vulcan: heathen absurdities and Jewish monotheism equally found a place in his soul. But even now the stones were ready which were to knock down his castle in the air. The ghetto was not destined to throw these stones, but the hand of a person whose acquaintance we have made elsewhere—Honza, that is to say. The latter had with time conceived a profound hatred against all that was German; and it was « THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 173: in spite of himself and only because he must do so to win first prizes that he had consented to make a study of the German language and to express himself in it. In his leisure time, how- ever, he always spoke Bohemian ; and he reproved his friend energetically whenever he used another idiom. “‘Look here, Moritz,” he said, one day when they had to construct German iambics, “is it not a gross piece of injustice to make one learn things for which one has no taste? Our professor is a German; everything we have to study is in German, or Latin, whereas there is no thought of Bohemian. I can scarcely believe that I was born in Bohemia; and to myself I seem like a child stolen by some gipsy. Are you not of my opinion ? ” “ Ag far as I am concerned,” said Moritz, care- lessly, “it is a matter of indifference.” ‘In that case you are not a true Bohemian,” cried Honza; and he went away in a rage. “Nota Bohemian?” said the consciousness of Moritz, who was indignant at such an idea; and for several days he worried himself and quarrelled with Honza because the latter did not regard him as a true Bohemian. He felt cruelly insulted. In school, for the rest, the history of their own country was seldom touched upon. Consequently the two young men knew very little about the land which had giventhem birth. During their second ~ 174 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. year of study, and before they could understand the power of that breath which stirs the leaves of humanity, they had been taught the history of Bohemia concurrently with that of the other here- ditary states. The professor then said a great deal about St. John Nepomucene, but the other John, that is to say, John Huss, was merely an audacious fellow who revolted against the Pope’s infallibility. No pity was felt forthe heretic when at Constance he had perished in the flames. The im- portant point was that the chalice of the Hussites had been overthrown, and that a priest could once moreadminister the communion in the two kinds as before. Moritz and Honza thought like their pro- fessor. At the battle of the White Mountain they fought in the ranks of the imperialists against their own brethren ; they saw with an indifferent eye the torn letters royal ; and from this moment Bohemia ceased to exist—they let fall, again with their pro- fessor, the lid of its coffin. One day Honza, very pale and with distorted features, came to Moritz. He had for several days past been absent from his class. “ Are you ill, Honza ?” asked Moritz in alarm. “‘Read that,” he replied, throwing violently on the table a large book which he had brought under his arm; “the professor has deceived us.”* Moritz took the volume; it was a history of Bohemia. Honza had found it in the library of THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 175 the monastery under a mass of fathers of the Church and classical works. The title of the book had caught his eye, and he had asked the rector’s permission to take it away. He had no sooner read the first few pages than he suspected the professor’s treachery; and when continuing his perusal, he saw pass before him John Huss, Ziska, and the two Procopinses of gigantic stature he became furious. He read the book three times ; and on coming finally to the last page his convic- tion was, “‘ The professor has deceived us.” Moritz now read in his turn; but he received quite another impression. In his character of Jew he knew nothing about the religious quarrels of Bohemia; and at heart he was perfectly in- different whether the communion was administered in one or both kinds. He could not see why on the subject of the body and blood of the Saviour people should engage in such cruel combats ; but what struck him forcibly was the political significance of it all. He saw in the matter a struggle wherein were concerned wealth, liberty, and independence ; here his own personal feelings were concerned ; Jerusalem and Bohemia ! Did not the same gigantic spectre envelop these two gigantic corpses in the silence of the tomb ? In class the two young men looked at each other with an air of intelligence, but found nothing to say ; they could not account for this historical 176 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. grief which had its source in the melancholy with which they had both cast eyes on the chronicle of their country. “Shall I tell you, Honza,” said Moritz, some days after, “what history the history of Bohemia most resembles ? ” “It resembles none other,” replied Honza, proudly, “ But I tell you that it bears a great resemblance: to the history of the Jews.” Honza laughed beyond measure. “Have you a Ziska?” he cried; “have you Hussites ? ”” “Well,” said Moritz, “but have we not Macchabees ? ” “As to them,” returned Honza, “I know nothing; moreover they have long been dead. But the Hussites ”— * Are they not dead, too?” “Oh, no,” said Honza, with a mysterious air,. ‘they are still alive.” Some time afterwards he explained to his fellow- scholar how he regarded, as Hussites, all those who loved Bohemia. And according to him those only cherished the country who spoke its language. “« And,” asked Moritz, “am I one of these? ” “Yes, if you wish to speak Bohemian,” replied Honza. So Moritz promised to be a Hussite. THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 177 On Sundays and féte days, and whenever there was a holiday, the two students did themselves the pleasure of paying a visit to a ruin known as Buttna. The old castle possessed for them a peculiar attraction since Ziska had passed by the place as the angel of vengeance. Here they re- mained seated for hours at a time; and when the moon was shining they seemed to see issuing from the cracked walls the shades of those who perished on the spot in former days. Let us hear one of the conversations which took place at Buttna. “What a fine thing it would be, Moritz,” said Honza, after throwing a silent glance on the plains lying at his feet, “if everybody in Bohemia spoke the same language. At one village you are ad- dressed in German, at another in Bohemian.” “Just as in the days of the Tower of Babel,” observed Moritz. ‘People asked for bricks and they got mortar. They could no longer under- stand each other, and separated because, in spite of every endeavour, they found it impossible to do so.” “They did not go forth by tribes, supposing that so far back tribes existed; and it would be useless to assert the contrary. I should not believe it. Those among them who found that by chance they used the same words, joined them- selves together; and it was only from this moment N 178 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. they formed nations because they spoke the same tongue. And whoever had a father or mother whom he could no longer understand went and attached himself, by preference, to those with whom he was able to converse.” “JT cannot imagine,” said Moritz, pensively, “how a person could abandon his father and mother.” «‘ But if they no longer understood you ? ” cried Honza, with warmth. ‘ What would you feel in- clined to do if, while you were saying something agreeable to your mother, she thought you were cursing her?” “Honza,” exclaimed Moritz, “what are you saying? Curse a mother!” “Ts not Bohemia mother of us all, and has she not thousands of children who do not understand her? Let those therefore leave her. The good, the true, and the faithful only, those, in short, whom she will have no cause to curse, ought to remain with her. Ziska knew this very well, and it was for that very reason he thundered as he did.” Moritz listened shuddering to Honza’s wild words. Without putting it to Honza he asked | himself this question from the depth of his soul— “Ts this true also of the Jews ?” For the moment he did not come to a decision. While they conversed thus, joyous strains of ee _ THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 179 music, from the heart of the village lying at the foot of the hill reached their ears. Among other instruments, a trumpet in particular sent forth such lively notes, that the echo, as though provoked, replied on all sides. The sound of this music which they heard somewhat indistinctly soothed nevertheless their minds. The strains re- called to Moritz the parlour of his father’s inn, and the peasants’ Sunday. “Ts to-day Sunday then ? ” he said, after having remained listening for some time. “Does the music make you think so? It is doubtless a wedding.” “Ah! I should so much like to see a wedding once more,”’ escaped from Moritz. ‘And what would you do if you were present at one?” ** Look on.” “You know the peasants do not like that ; they think you go to make fun of them.” “1! I make fun of peasants, Honza? Are you mad ?” “And if they invite you to dinner and you say, ‘I must not touch this, I am forbidden to do so,’ then are you not making fun of them?” “ But if I am indeed forbidden ? ” “QO, what a fine, magnificent Hussite!” cried Honza, with great disdain. “How can you say such a thing?” 180 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. The music, the conversation, and raillery com--. bined produced a revolution in the mind of Moritz. He felt ashamed before Honza—and the angel of his’ old belief now turned away from him with pain. “Come,” he cried impetuously, “1 want to show you that Iam a Hussite!” He leapt forward ; Honza sprang after him. Descending the hill, they arrived at the village out of breath. Then the resounding trumpet led them to the house where the marriage was being celebrated. Honza, as though at home, threw himself into the midst of the revelry, at once took possession of a pretty girl, and joined with her in a rough dance, uttering cries of joy, and stamping the floor with his feet. Moritz kept aloof, and looked on. When Honza happened to pass where he stood he counselled him, saying— ‘Come along, follow my example, and don’t be ashamed.” «Moritz was no longer himself; his feet began to move on their own account, and before he knew what he was doing he had already joined in the danee, and was leaping and singing with a huge servant girl on his arm. The dance at an end, Moritz and Honza sat down in a corner of the room, exhausted with fatigue, and bathed in perspiration. The bride’s mother brought them cakes, meat, and beer. THE RANDARS OHILDREN. 181 Moritz did not abstain from the refreshments. Otherwise would not the fanatical Honza have derided him ? It was not till late at night that they returned to Bunzlau. Honza sang at the top of his voice until they arrived atthe college. Then he became silent. Moritz had already some time before ceased to sing. The evening breeze had cooled his blood. Intoxication had abandoned his soul, reflection had returned ; and at this moment he was bleed- ing from a thousand wounds. VITL.—Tuae Rervrn. Tue sight of the ghetto made him repent. **T have sinned ;” he cried, “ how can I obtain forgiveness ? ” He became an object of horror to himself; and, as if his body and soul were separated, they reproached one another reciprocally with the past. Who among us does not know, by experience, cer- tain moments in life when one becomes simul- taneously one’s own judge and accuser ? These few seconds had made Moritz older by several years. Sin shook all the fibres of his soul and caused to appear before him his existence so innocent and so pure of former days. It was the eve of the pretty Schebouoth* féte. * Pentecost. 182 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Rays of light shone from all the windows; the ghetto had become silent, a festive air reigned in it. Hverywhere families were taking their even- ing repast. His host and hostess, quite ready for the festival, were only waiting for Moritz. But he dared not show himself to Salme Floh with lips - which he considered soiled ; it seemed to him that people must read from his features that he had just committed a sin. Moritz was firmly resolved not to go indoors, at least for supper. He sat down on one of the steps leading to the rectorial house, and covering his eyes with his hands, reflected on his sad situation, One single hour! What harm had it not done to him! It had profaned, abased, and, as it were, excommunicated him. He believed that he was condemned to live henceforth and for ever in sin; for the all-powerful God who visits sins unto the third and fourth generation could not pardon him. At this moment a man of superb stature, dressed in the costume of the Polish Jews, was slowly descending the steps. Just as he was about to pass by Moritz the latter rose quickly, a prey to fear not unmixed with joy. “‘Rebb Mendel Wilna! ” he cried, “it is Rebb Mendel Wilna! ” The mendicant paused, and for some time gazed at the young man. “ Schmah Isroel /”’ he cried at length, “is it not a a THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 183 the Randar Rebb Schmull’s son? Is it not Moschele ?”’ ‘“‘ Otherwise, how could I so soon have recognised you?” said Moritz. “ Salem alechem !?* “ Alechem salem,’t+ replied Moritz, and they shook hands with joy. . Mendel could not find enough words to express the happiness he felt at meeting Moritz in so un- expected a manner. He inquired after his father and mother, and asked whether their house was, as formerly, ‘frequented by a great number of schnorrer. Moritz answered all these questions. as well as he could. “T have brought from Jerusalem,” he said, “that earth which I promised your parents. For more than five years I carried it about with me without being able to take it to its destination, since I did not return to Bohemia. A long time has elapsed; [am doubtless quite forgotten at the Randar’s.” _ Moritz assured him that he was often spoken of by his parents, and that only a few moments ago he had himself thought of Mendel. “So,” said Mendel, in a high voice, “you still think of Jerusalem? ‘You remember that Saturday we took a walk together, and the day you wanted so much to go with me, but when [ * Peace be with you. t+ With you also. 184, SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. was obliged to send you back? Schmah Isroel, how it broke my heart! I could not banish you from my mind before I had walked several leagues.” “‘T can see myself now,” replied Moritz, “just as I was then equipped; and I still feel the grief I experienced when I had to return all alone. I was ashamed and confused, and I feared they would make fun of me.” While conversing thus, and as Moritz pro- nounced these last words in good, pure German, they arrived under a lamp. At the sound of this language, and moreover by the help of the light, the schnorrer perceived that he had no longer the Randar’s child of eight to deal with, but a big boy of slender figure. What iu particular made him look more matured and older was a certain wrinkle at the corners of his lips ; was it due to the doubt- ful light, or had some deep grief engraved it there ? Moritz saw that the schnorrer had all at once become uneasy; he had taken some steps back- wards as though mistaken in his companion. Moritz trembled from the bottom of his soul; he already feared lest Mendel had read his sin on his visage. “ What feeling is this which has come upon me?” said Mendel, aftera long pause. “I thought I had found Moschele, Rebb Schmull’s son, and whom do I see? Pardon me, sir, I am doubtless de ceived! How can a schnorrer still speak to you?” THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 185 “Oh, heavens!” sighed Moritz from the depth of his soul. “ Has one single moment so changed me that I am no longer recognised by my old friends ?” “Tt is indeed his voice,” murmured Mendel, and then he took the young man by the hand and said to him in the most cordial tone, ‘‘ You must not be annoyed with me, Moschele; I call you still by this name though you have become so tall that you ought now to be called Rebb Moscheh.* But first of all answer this question. Have you remained a good Jew?” “Why, this question, Mendel?” said Moritz, with a shudder, “ and who can reply to it?” “ Hven that,” rejoined the schnorrer immediately, ‘shows me, sir, that you are still a good Jew. One ought always to remain so; studies ought to make no difference. Otherwise, what would happen the day Jerusalem was rebuilt, and when the Almighty chose suddenly to recall the whole of Israel to Himself ? There would certainly be no lack of Jews; but if among them chachomim + were found wanting, what ever should we do? And now I want to tell you everything.” “ But only explain to me, Rebb Mendel, how the idea of rebuilding Jerusalem occurred to you. * Moschele means little Moscheh. It is the diminutive of the latter word, + Sages. 186 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. It seems to me so strange at the present time.. Who hasany thought of it to-day ? ” “You; you are the oracle of Heaven,’ the mendicant, with the enthusiasm we already know him to possess. ‘ Who is better aware of this than I? God has left a guardian in His vineyard,’ and that guardian am J. Only Mendel > eried Wilna’s shoulders are not strong enough to sup- port by themselves the burden of Jerusalem. I must have an assistant, and in your infancy I . chose you to help me. But come; I want to tell you everything.” They were now once more at the rectorial steps. Mendel sat down on one of them, and Moritz placed himself by his side. The darkness was intense. Silence reigned everywhere. The schnorrer commenced. “I have not always wandered about the: world as a beggar as I do now. When a man has become poor, and is reduced to live on alms, people find it difficult to believe that he ’ & can ever have seen better days. At one time I also gave to others, and from one year’s end to another my father’s house (blessed be his memory !) was open to the poor and to strangers sike that of the Randar Rebb Schmull. “‘ My father was one of the richest dalbatim (heads of households) in Wilna. You may have read in your’ r books that Wilna is in Russian Poland. At one time THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 187 there was only one Poland, but Poland has shared the fate of Israel. Some one has taken one portion, some one else another, and in the end there is nothing left of her. She has been torn to pieces like Joseph’s coat which our patriarch Jacob had given him. ‘ Look here,’ said Joseph’s brothers, “look at your son’s garment; he has been de- stroyed by wild beasts in the forest.? But I am passing from one idea to another. My infancy was not a happy oue. I may say that I was born with the Gemara. Among us Poles they do not put playthings into the hands of children; they do not give them whips or drums, saying, ‘ Play with this.’ Oh, no. But as soon as they can lisp a few words a rabbi comes to teach them the Gemara, and they have to study night and day. “ Youin your infancy could run where you liked free as a little bird whose wants were all supplied by its mother, and on the holy Sabbath, when you wanted to tear off the branch of a tree, I only prevented you by making you very frightened. Schmah Isroel! What would have happened to me if in my infancy such an idea had occurred to me! And the idea never did occur to me because: I knew-the thing was forbidden. At your age I had already half the Gemara in my head, and in face of this how could I commita sin? I could tell perfectly well whether a thing was sinful or no. “ At Wilna many people told me that I hada 188 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. good head. When ten years of age I knew all the prophets by heart, and when any one opened the Tenach* to light on a passage at random I was always able at once to continue from memory. At Cheder + I often put my Rebbe tin the greatest embarrassment by proposing to him questions which he could not answer. What do you think hedidthen? He took his pipe stem, which was as long and as thick as a stick, and beat me till my body was tender all over. I ought not, he said, to ask him these questions. This did not prevent me from doing many other things for which he thrashed me in the same way. You have never known such misery, Moschele. Heaven must cer- tainly have pitied my sufferings. “You may be a Jewish child, but still you can form no idea of all this. It is a great misfortune for us that children no longer learn one and the same thing. You learn German and Latin ; I have learned only Hebrew. We are both Jews, and yet you cannot imagine how I was brought up. This comes, alas, of our goles. “‘My father had no other son but me. I had, however, a little sister named Blumele. There is a Jewish proverb which says, ‘ My name must have figured on Mount Sinai.’ All I can tell you is that the day on which the Almighty created flowers in the gardens and fields to gladden the * Pentateuch. tT School. t Master. THE RANDAR’S OHILDREN. 189 heart of man, He must certainly have thought of our Blumele.* You cannot picture to yourself what an extraordinary child she was. The most beautiful part of her was her eyes; one never got tired of looking at them. Often, when you were . gtilla child, I occupied myself with examining you, for you strikingly resembled her. Heavens! how I loved that sister ! “ After her third year, Blumele was incessantly ill. But her intelligence was something prodigious; you might have taken lessons from her. She must have been under some influence. People had predicted that we should not preserve the child. She was too intelligent, and in the few years of her life she used up an amount of mental force. which might have served her till she was eighty. “‘She was truly an extraordinary child. Often she was taken with pains and convulsions. Then if gold and bon-bons were put before her she would not touch them. “¢ What do you want, Blumele darling ?’ we: asked. “ THE RANDAR’S OHILDREN. * 191 whole nights at her bedside talking about Jeru- salem. “‘ Blumele has long been dead. ‘‘T can still see the pious people of the community saying the prayer of the dead for her; they filled the room. I cried till I could not see. For a moment they thought her dead; so, as is usually done in such cases, a feather was applied to her nose in order to tell whether she still breathed. For a long while the feather remained motionless, but suddenly Blumele opened her eyes, turned to- wards the Mizrach, and looked at it. She wanted once more to utter the word ‘Jerusalem.’ But when she had pronounced the first half of it death chilled her lips. “The day the dead are resuscitated that is cer- tainly the first word she will speak. “Men ought not, as a rule, to mention their vexations or their griefs, however great these may | be. Itis better for them before Heaven to pre- serve silence. But all I can tell you is that I would willingly be now lying in the tomb instead of Blumele. ‘“‘ It was not till after Blumele’s death that I per- ceived the void it had caused around me. Then, too, I found that the stories about J erusalem I had been continually telling had produced within me a thought which nothing could get out of my head. I could not henceforth avoid thinking incessantly 192 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. + NEE EES Ss CRE Alt aga See of Jerusalem. At night I often seemed to hear a voice like Blumele’s; then I awoke and could not sleep the rest of the night. “In course of time I thought less frequently of Blumele, but on the other hand I thought more of Jerusalem. I cannot now recollect how the idea that the holy city ought to be rebuilt came to me. There was nothing else in my head night and day. Often I shut myself in my little room and prayed the Almighty to reconstruct Jerusalem soon. IT besought Him to perform a miracle in my name. On these occasions my soul was no longer of this world, and I spoke to the Almighty face to face,. like our prophet Moses. “You will laugh perhaps when I tell you that every morning when I got up I thought I was at Jerusalem. But the Almighty was not willing to do a miracle, although I had so earnestly prayed for one. “ What idea do you think I now conceived? I thought the Almighty was not willing to perform a miracle because I had sinned too much, and could no longer cleanse myself of my faults. And do you know what I did then? My heart revolted against Him. I was grieved, and I began to murmur against Him. ‘ Why,’ I often cried, ‘wilt Thou not do miracles? How can I prevail upon Thee todo so ? Has the time, then, not yet arrived for rebuilding Jerusalem ?’” THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 193 “But what is man but a vessel in the potter’s hands—a piece of earth ? I soon returned to my Maker, but henceforth I never again thought He would do a miracle in my name. “Then another idea occurred tome. ‘If the Almighty is not willing to aid me,’ I said, ‘I will aid myself.’ “J had long since gone through my bar-mitzveh,* and when I was fifteen years old my father wanted me to marry the pretty daughter of a dalboz (father of a family) at Wilna. You know that among us Jews the child has to obey when the father com- mands. So I did not say ‘no,’ and I got engaged to her. ** During the whole year which elapsed between my betrothal and marriage I was possessed with but one idea—how to escape from my halle. I had something else to think of than a pretty girl. Often, believe me, she wept tears of blood when I remained hours in her company without saying a word. “““ Mendel,’ she frequently exclaimed, ‘do you love me?’ “And when she approached me I pushed her away. “Kven to-day I ask myself how I passed that year. very evening I put my pack on my * Religious initiation. t Bride. 194 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. shoulders ready to set out. And why did I not go? Because I thought of the shame which would cover my betrothed. At length the wedding day arrived. A Jew had never a sadder wedding. The kalle wept, the bridegroom* wept also. How could Ibe gay; ought I not already to have set out? “‘[ remained, all the same, ten years with my wife. She gave me two children, pretty and good like herself. But I had my evil spirit like King Saul; the idea of rebuilding Jerusalem allowed me no repose. “‘My father had put me in business ; but I was good for nothing. I had to deal in ox-skins; but Jerusalem alone was in my head. In time this idea took a stronger and stronger hold upon me, and my father, who could make no use of me, said to me one day, ‘ Now try and get your own living.’ ‘ All right,’ I replied, ‘I will go to Jerusalem.’ “ But this time I communicated my projects to my wife. She began to ery,and hung the children round my neck. I freed myself from them and started off. “Tt was not till I had made long journeys all over the world that I got at length a clear view of my ideas and desires. ‘Mendel, you madman,’ I often said to myself, ‘how could you think of re- building Jerusalem by yourself? All the Jews will have to aid in the work; the whole of Israel * Male lover. THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 195 must have but one will, and then only can the Messiah come.’ “* Consequently, before going to Jerusalem I wanted to prepare every one. It would take too long to tell you how, with this object, I travelled into every country. In two years I went all over Poland, Hungary, Bohemia, and Moravia, passing from kille to kille.* In the synagogues I preached on Isaiah and his words on the subject of Jerusalem. T occupied myself above all with children, Wher- ever I saw one in whose eyes seemed to repose something of that spirit of the Almighty which moved on the face of the waters, I spoke to him of Jerusalem; and you were not the only child, Mos- chele, who wished to rebuild the city with me. Children often understand me better than grown- up persons. ‘** My hair has turned white, my body has grown weak, but my heart is still young. I believe steadfastly, and the Almighty is my guarantee, that we shall go back to Jerusalem. Doubtless this will not be to-morrow; and I may die first. But the day will come. You and many others will follow the movement ; and you will not forget that Mendel Wilna once wandered all over the world. I shall work as long as there is breath in me. “That is rather a long story. I shall only tely you one more thing; I am going to Vienna to see * Jewish community, 196 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Rothschild and a number of other rich persons: living there. They will feel bound to contribute some of their fortune and influence to rebuild Jerusalem. Iknow Rothschild can do anything ; and he will be able to do this. Something in my heart tells me that this time I am not going on a useless journey. Rothschild is a good Jew, he is sure to rebuild Jerusalem.” IX.—Tue Lerrer. Wuen on the morrow of this fatal day Moritz awoke, it was already very late. It was Sunday. A good thing for him, since otherwise he would have missed his class. The events of yesterday produced on him the effect of a bad dream. All his members were sluggish as lead, so that he tottered more than once in trying to walk across his room. His body like his soul was unsteady. His host, Salme Floh, had along while been looking at him with folded arms and an ironical smile. “On my soul, Fradel,” he said, in a low voice to his wife, “he is still quite schicker.”’* Fradel did not reply to this remark; she was content to wipe her eyes with the corner of her apron, and to regard the young sinner with pity. By degrees Moritz collected his wits. He re- * Drunk. THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 197 membered that he had not yet said his prayer. Mechanically he stretched his hand towards the little bag containing the teffillin* in order to place them round his arms and neck before praying. But quite a quarter of an hour elapsed before he had finished these operations. He put everything on the wrong way; thus, instead of placing the knot of the phylacteries on the centre of his fore- head, he reversed them, so that the knot came just above the nape of his neck. Observing this, Salme began to roar with laughter, his mouth wide open. “On my soul,” he replied, “if I let him alone he will end by going to saw wood on the holy Jontof+ day.” The word Jontoff brought Moritz to himself again. One glance at his host, dressed in his holiday clothes and ready to go to the synagogue showed him his error, for on festival days it is not permitted to wear phylacteries. ** Well, do you understand me, young man ?” said Salme with authority, seeing that Moritz was still slow in taking off the tefillin. ‘“ Fortunate for you that it is Jontoff day ; for this reason. I shall say nothing to you. Otherwise you would learn who Salme Floh is.” Thereupon he started for the synagogue, not without slamming the door after him. . ~ * Phylacteries. t A Jewish Festival. 198 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. SPOS ERS SD, OO, Ta Singular thoughts crossed our student’s mind during the two days his host and hostess were sullen with him. He could not think his sin was so great; and Mendel Wilna, by his narrative had contributed not a little to bring about this change in his judgment. Moritz saw in Mendel an exist- ence displaced by extravagances which had thrown him off the path of ordinary life; and although but a little while ago he had had dreams of the same nature, he could not now help laughing when he thought of Mendel Wilna, with whom at one time he was, as it were mixed up. “A droll madman!” Moritz could not prevent himself from saying. ‘“ Were he not so sincere in his project of reconstructing Jerusalem, I should laugh at him to his face. Leave wife and children, wander over the whole world to get people to re- build Jerusalem! Does he think seriously that my host Salme Floh will leave his breeches and his. waistcoats? Well! that little sister of Mendel’s was a strange child! She spoke of nothing but Jerusalem, and she died of it. Such ideas are not made for the world; they are stricken down at birth. I did not perceive this before now. I am almost inclined to say that Mendel Wilna is him- self dead. He is nothing more than a phantom.” Moritz no longer sought his old friend. The two festival days passed without his seeing him again. He had kept away from a remnant of his former = — THE RANDAR’S CHTLDREN. 199 feeling of respect; he feared, in fact, that he might not be able to listen with enough serious- ness to Mendel’s account of his follies. Moritz had for the rest no suspicion of the storm which was gathering over his head. On the following Tuesday, when after the holi- days he had to return to the college, he found Salme Floh making extraordinary preparations for letter- writing. As soon as Moritz entered the room, Salme said :—“ Can you lend mea pen and an inkstand?” Salme had a sombre visage, and his eyebrows were lowered like clouds which announce the coming tempest. Fradel, his wife, who stood at his side, said to him in an undertone, so that Moritz might not hear :— “Don’t do it, Salme.” But Salme replied to her in an impetuous voice— “‘ Silence, do not interfere! If I don’t I shall per- haps bring a misfortune on myself.” “What kind of pen do you want?’’ inquired Moritz. “Tt matters little,’ answered Salme, with a terrible smile. As he was searching in his portfolio, Moritz ventured to ask, “To whom are you going to write, Salme ? ” We must mention that it was the first time he had seen his host give himself up to this occupation . 200 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “You will see very soon,” replied Salme, in a morose tone; ‘meanwhile give me the pen.” Moritz handed him one. *“'To some bad debtor, no doubt? ” he said. “Some one whom I ought to write to—that’s the truth,” returned Salme, as he dipped his pen into the ink. Moritz began to work at one of his tasks, and placed himself in a corner. Salme wrote his letter without once removing his attention therefrom ; it made him perspire for an hour at least. When he had finished he said in a low voice to his wife :— Do you want to hear it?” Fradel pointed to the student, whose back was turned towards them, intimating that it was im- possible to read the letter in his presence. ‘You think I care for that?” replied Salme, aloud; “ he may hear it if he likes.” Thereupon he began reading what he had just written, first in a moderate tone, and then in a louder and louder voice. The letter was as follows :— “ Holy Community of Bunzlau, this 7th day of Siwan. “Dear Rebb Randar Schmull, and dear Mme. Schmull: may you livea hundred years ! “The Almighty knows with what grief I take up my pen. But it makes one’s hair stand on end —=—=8 THE RANDARS OHILDREN. 201 to think of the recent conduct of your son, who for the last five years has been lodging with me. To my wife who wanted to dissuade me and said, “Salme, don’t do it,’ I replied, with an exclama- tion, saying that I should be exposing myself to some just misfortune if I did not at once inform the Randar Rebb Schmull of the matter. You have made of your son a nice boy! MHe has no longer a farthing’s-worth of Jewish blood in his veins. Do you know what your dear Moritz has done? Onaholy Jontof day he went with his chaver* Honza to the village, and there danced, drank, ate—and with whom? Great God! With peasant girls and youths of a nice kind! Some people from the fille passed by and saw everything with their own eyes. Then they came to me and said—‘ Your boarder is a pretty youth! Whose son is he?’ I replied to them—‘ He is the son of the Randar Rebb Schmull; his fatheris a pious Jew.’ How agree- able to be asked such questions! ‘ Well, Salme,’ they replied, ‘go and bring him home, he is already so schickert that he cannot stand on his legs.’ As for me, my heart was almost broken in my body. It was eleven o’clock at night when Moritz returned. I have not said a word to him till now. Do with your child as you think fit; I have discharged my duty. I willadd but one thing * Companion. t+ Drunk. SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. more: if Honza sets foot again in my house I shall give him a hamvorech,* in which he will certainly get his arms and legs broken. Never will I tole- rate a posche-Isroel,t in my house; and if your Moritz decides to repeat his conduct, I do not say I shall not treat him as I should Honza, Pawel, or: Wasta. Now I wish you good health, and remain your sincerely devoted “ Satme F'iou (the younger).” During the reading Moritz, who, from the very first had seen that it concerned him, had turned his chair round, and with apparent indifference remained seated facing Salme and his wife. When Salme had finished, he looked at the student with an air of triumph; he expected to see him con- founded, crushed. But Moritz broke out into a. loud laugh, took up his books and cap, and before Salme could say a word to him had gone out of the door. “What do you think of that?” asked Salme,. when he had recovered from his first feeling of terror. “Did I not dissuade you?” said the pacific Fradel. ‘ You would not listen to me.” Salme fell into a profound reverie. “This young man,” he cried, after a long silence, , * Reception. {+ Bad Jew. THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 203 ‘is perfectly ripe for gehenna.* Well, I shall send the letter all the same.” The host’s missive reached the Randar’s farm only a quarter of an hour after Mendel Wilna. The arrival of the schnorrer, whose long absence had caused regret, produced in Schmull and Rachel a feeling of joyful emotion. The Randar talked familiarly with his guest, and made him relate the whole history of his journey to Jeru- salem. Suddenly the schnorrer took from his pack two little bags which he gave to Schmul, saying, “« Here is what I promised you some time ago.” Rebb Schmull did not remember the promise ; he felt the bags and asked what they contained. “arth from Jerusalem,” replied the schnorrer. “Seriously? Is it Jerusalem earth?” said the Randar, in astonishment. “T collected it on the very spot,” said -Mendel,, “‘ where formerly stood our holy temple.” The Randar trembling with joy, opened the little bags, and his eyes shone with a strange lustre directly he beheld before him this earth, which though common enough in appearance, was of inestimable value. “Ts it indeed Jerusalem earth ? ” he asked once more. ‘ Do not deceive me, Rebb Mendel, for I want this when I am dead to be placed under my head.” * Perdition. 204 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “Am I then such a liar?” inquired the schnorrer. ‘Wait; here is the attestation signed by a Rabbi of Jerusalem.” He handed him a paper bearing a gigantic seal, but the Randar did not read it. He took the two little bags, as well as the written attestation, and ‘placed the former on a secret shelf in a cupboard. Meantime the Randar’s wife entered with Salme’s letter. Her features were distorted; tears stood in her eyes. Before the arrival of the letter Mendelhad already told her how he found Moritzat anadvanced hour of the night seated on the rectorial steps. At this news the Randavr’s wife had at once shaken her head: “ What could Moritz have to do so late in the streets, and why, above all, was he sitting on the steps? ” | Then the letter arrived, and she had no difficulty in divining it all. She became wholly a prey to grief and sorrow. She had come to communicate the letter to her husband. But as soon as she eutered the latter, still delighted with the beggar’s present, cried— “ Rachel, guess what Rebb Mendel has brought > . us “ How do I know 2” she asked with a sad smile. “ Harth from Jerusalem,” said Rebb Schmull, go- ing towards the cupboard to take out the two little bags. THE RANDARS OHILDREN. 205 The Randar’s wife, with her motherly heart, had at once half perceived the danger of telling her husband of the letter at a moment when he was full of religious emotion. So she kept the contents to herself, just as one might conceal a mortal wound. But inthe night a thought occurred to her as her head rested onthe pillow. “My God!” she said, “is it really study that has so corrupted my child? Yet how many people have studied without ceasing for that reason to be good Jews ? And why should they have hurt my child alone? What would Schmull say if he knew it ? Better he had remained in the village with peasants and amid the tons of brandy. But is it true? No, no; fora single hour the child may have been under a bad inspiration. But that is all.” And she did not show her hiisband the letter. X.—Cavuses anp EFFEctTs. Tue life of Honza had latterly been very sad. A whole month had passed without his receiving the least assistance from home. His father Waczlaw, formerly one of the most affluent peasants in the village, had, thanks to drunkenness, fallen to the lowest depth. House, fields and meadows had been sacrificed to the passion for spirits, to which he was given up. Honza’s mother often came to SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. him at Bunzlau: and there she told him how all the money went to the Randar, and that there was not enough left to make Honza a coat. The father dissipated everything; he was even capable any moment of taking the cow out of the shed to sell her at the neighbouring fair. One may say that in tavern rooms like the Randar’s, there reigns a kind of demon, whose nature is quite peculiar. Those who feel themselves drawn thither, know this demon; they know even the way of escape from him. But a thousand obstacles arise, and shackle their good will, There is for instance, the sign-board of the inn, whose lustre invites and attracts; then idleness. Thirst takes them there least of all. In Waczlaw’s case it was the Randar’s account book. He was persuaded that all his misfortune came from that, Every one knows how an idea, when once it has found place in a brain obscured by drink and passion, takes gradually consistency and form. Waczlaw was certainly right in attributing all his misfortune to the account book; but he did not stop there. He believed that if he could cause it to disappear from the world, all would be well. So he meditated stealing the book; but he failed whenever he made the attempt. It happened at last, that one fine night the Randar’s house took fire. The flames were already consuming the granary when the tocsin was —— oo a seen eee THE RANDAR’S OHILDREN. 207 sounded. Fortunately the fire did not spread further; the granary alone was burnt with all the preceding summer’s corn, which had been lying stored up some time. Strange to say the Randar’s suspicions at once fell on Waczlaw ; no one but him could have com- mitted the incendiarism. He went to the bailiff and tried to get the peasant arrested. Waczlaw had to submit to an interrogation. He avowed all, saying it was to revenge himself on the Jew, and in the hope of making the account book disappear, that he set fire to the house. This took place shortly before the distribution of prizes. One day Moritz and Honza left their class to- gether chatting. When they got to the square where the prison stood, they saw a crowd of men pressing around a prisoner who had just been brought thither. They approached from curiosity ; but no sooner had Honza perceived the prisoner, than he uttered a loud cry and fell to the ground unconscious, A few good-hearted persons under Moritz’s direction carried him home. When Honza recovered from his swoon, he found Moritz standing by his bedside holding one of his cold hands.. The poor boy opened his eyes with a sigh, and one glance at Moritz sufficed to bring the past gradually back to his mind. Moritz 208 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. smiled, but this proof of his sympathy seemed only to produce disgust in Honza. With all the strength which remained to him, he repelled his fellow-scholar with such violence that the latter staggered and fell in a corner of the room. “ Honza, Honza,” said Moritz, “‘ do you not know me then?” “Go to the devil,” cried Honza furiously, “ you Jews are the sole cause of my father’s misery.” “That is untrue,” replied Moritz, pale and with quivering lips. ‘‘ Have you not supplied him with drink ? ” cried Honza, “have you not made profit out of him, till he is at last in irons? You have ruined us. Your father is a leech glutted with the blood of the whole village.” Then he hid his face in the bedclothes and lay still, sobbing. Moritz with indignation and anger in his heart, stood near the door without saying a word. “‘ Misery ! misery!” exclaimed Honza, “I can- not henceforth show myself to any one. My father in irons! The world will spitin my face! Those cursed Jews! they have taken everything! May the thunder of God destroy them ! ” “ You are a liar, Honza,” replied Moritz, “you are no better than your father. He was always: a drunkard.” THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 209 “Go to the devil!” cried Honza immediately, ‘‘you are no better than your father. You are both the same, there is no difference.” In a rage Moritz opened the door and went out. In two days the distribution of prizes would take place. Moritz awaited the ceremony with feverish uneasiness. Honza’s misfortune followed him everywhere like a shadow, and he could not help thinking that all this must be connected with some event in his father’s own house. He had no news of home, and he nearly died from doubt and un- easiness, On the very night of the prize day Moritz re- turned late to the village. With a palpitating heart he arrived at the door of the house. There were still lights in the publicroom. All was silent. Shortly afterwards, when his arrival had occasioned a noise, he saw something move near the table. It was Hannele, who had fallen asleep while wait- ing for her brother. ‘“Who is there?” she asked, regarding Moritz fixedly with eyes still heavy from sleep. “Tt is J,” said Moritz. Hannele ran up to him and embraced him tenderly. | ** How are father and mother? ” inquired Moritz. ‘‘ Father is well, he is asleep. Mother”— “Well, mother?” cried Moritz with anxiety. P 210 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “Don’t you know then what has happened ? We have had a fire here.” Moritz in terror gazed in her eyes. «And do you know who did it? You would never have imagined it could have been the peasant Waczlaw ? ” “ Honza, Honza!” exclaimed Moritz in painful recollection. : “What are you saying about Honza?” cried Hannele frightened, “it was his father who did it. Well, the next day father said it could have been no one but Waczlaw. The fire broke out, and the whole granary was destroyed before a single peasant in the village stirred to extinguish the flames. We had tocry out and supplicate to get the least help.” “Not a soul, do you say, wanted to put out the fire?’ asked Moritz, and he became deeply pensive. Then changing all at once as his memory returned to him he cried out, “ And mother?” But already the Randar’s wife had recognised the voice of her well-beloved child. She had risen noiselessly, and at this moment appeared in the doorway with a light in her hand. At the sight of her Moritz was extremely frightened, she was so pale. She seemed ill to the point of death. He leaped up to her uttering a loud cry. For some time she held him clasped in her arms. “T am so glad you have come,” she said. “ If -s a et THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. wif you had delayed longer you might not perhaps have seen me again.” Moritz looked at her sadly. “T know it, I have deathin my heart. Waczlaw the peasant is the cause.” “Can you speak thus, dear mother? ” interrupted Moritz. “T know what I am saying,” continued the Randar’s wife with a painful smile. Moritz shuddered to the bottom of his soul. liverywhere he saw nothing but bad omens. He passed the night amid tears and sorrow. As soon as daylight appeared he hastily got up, and went out to see the ruined granary. Morning vapours hung over the mountains and valleys ; peasants were going into the fields. They saluted the student who had returned among them, but Moritz made scarcely any acknowledgment, and in a sombre mood followed them with his eyes. “Not one wanted to put out the fire,” he re- peated in painful remembrance, * not one !”? But when he beheld the remains of the fire on the ground, and the masonry blackened by the smoke, and there was nothing, even to the blue sky which tranquilly contemplated all such scenes, that did not fill his soul with inexpressible anger : / “Cursed be that dog Waczlaw,” he cried ; “ was it necessary for him to bring this disaster on our house! What wrong have we done him? Honza SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. is a liar if he accuses my father. No one in the village cares for us, that is the simple explanation. They would willingly drown the whole family of us at oue plunge. As they cannot touch our bodies, they turn their attention to our property. Not a soul wanted to put out the fire!” He then went and sat down on a burnt beam and dreamily contemplated the work of destruc- tion. He thought again of his poor sick mother; and his heart being profoundly sad, he looked upon her as doomed. Already he saw her heaving her last sigh, die, and descending into the grave. He was awakened from his dreams by Hannele, who had for some time been at his side. “Why did you get up so early? ” she asked. “JT could not sleep,’ replied Moritz with a sombre air. “No more could I,” said Hannele, “I was grieved.” “Grieved ? What by?” inquired Moritz, and he could not help smiling. Then he began to: reflect, and added with a sigh, “I understand, it was because of mother.” Of course mother causes me grief,” replied Hannele blushing, and then after a little hesita- tion, “Is not Honza also coming home for the holidays ?” “What have you in common with Honza?” — THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 213 returned Moritz in a violent passion, “ Honza is our enemy, like his father; they are both the same.” ““Honza is not to blame,” said Hannele in a voice of emotion ; “ he has not a drop of Waczlaw’s blood in his veins. Honza would be incapable of handling a torch.” “You think so?” interrupted Moritz with bitter irony. “If you had heard what I have! I was obliged to listen to him while he cursed our parents and all of us.” ** Me as well?” asked Hannele. “very one of us,” said Moritz boiling with anger; “you, like the others.” He then described to her his scene with Honza, in terms which the still lively remembrance of what had taken place heated like a hot iron ap- plied to so many wounds. His voice trembled as he spoke thus, and his eyes were full of tears. “Impossible for Honza to have said that!’ ob- served Hannele shaking her head with an air of deep conviction. “So you do not believe me!” exclaimed Moritz more astonished than angry. “Impossible for Honza to have said that!” re- peated the girl in a low voice, with her eyes cast down before the severe Moritz. Then she went: away saying, “I must now go into the inn; there are sure to be some peasants waiting already.” Q1A4 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. On this she walked slowly towards the house. Moritz in mute astonishment, looked at her as she did so. To remain a stranger to those even who are very closely related and united to you by ties of blood, is already not so rare a, thing. How seldom we understand our own brothers and sisters! We walk side by side with them during a whole life- time, we take the greatest part in their external sufferings, we feel their misfortunes as keenly as though they were our own; and yet the interior and intellectual portion of their nature, the mys- terious action of their inner individuality remain unknown to us, escape us. The paternal roof is as it were too small and too low to allow of our con- tracting relations with those nearest to us, and we have to leave it and seek close connections among strangers outside. How rarely people find in their own brothers and sisters true friends: of heart and soul. Hannele’s brother was among this number. Now only did she take some importance in his eyes,, when she had just thrown upon his soul one of those rays which in so vivid a manner lit up the recesses of his heart. Hitherto he had paid no. attention to her. In his character of student he had that self-sufficiency which regards with pity the knowledge of others. He had so often heard his father say that a girl has no need to learn any- THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 915 PORNO SE te E RON SOE ED le Mee Pe oe AA Eee thing, that Moritz had ended by thinking thus himself. He remarked with great astonishment that Hannele knew nothing about anything. He never saw her with a prayer-book in her hands; not even on Saturday. She seemed in general to have nothing Jewish about her. On the other hand she knew by heart all the songs sung in the village, and often, in leisure moments, went and sat down in the yard and sang them with her fresh voice. One day Moritz found her singing one of those songs in which an unhappy lover expresses so touchingly the regret he feels at the departure of his betrothed, who has gone beyond the mountains. It ran thus: Horo, horo, vysoka jsi! Ma panenke vzdalena jsi! Vzavalena jsi za harama Vadne ladka mezi na ma.* I, Carta bay i “ For some seconds Moritz listened to the sad melody of this song; it seemed to him strange, almost unbecoming in his sister’s mouth. “Who taught you that,” he asked with an air of severity. 6“ ¢ ‘ 1 j I have heard it sung by the girls and young men of the village,” was Hannele’s reply. ‘*¢ And do you know the meaning of it ? ”” * Mountain, mountain you are so distant ! My darling how far away are you ! She is far beyond the mountain; Love is withering between us, 916 SUENES FROM THE GHETTO. “Don’t I know Bohemian? You are going to teach me, perhaps ?” “You ought not to sing that song; it is not suited to a Jewish girl.” “But they sung it in the village.” She gave no other excuse. “That is the very reason.” “ But I like the song.” She then sang the next verse. A thousand other things in the house unsettled our Moritz. He had reached that point in his in- tellectual existence at which the soul gets ready beforehand, on entering the high road of life, to hate or to love. The unhappy fire had had one effect in somewhat deranging the Randar’s for- tune, and now it had another in deeply influ- encing the thoughts and sentiments of Moritz, his hatred and his affection. Armed so to say with all this, he prepared for battle. His father’s conduct in particular completely puzzled him. He had expected to see him irri- tated, profoundly afflicted by Waczlaw’s infernal project ; and he found him the same as formerly. Still, as before with his phylacteries on his head and round his arms, he walked every morning amongst the peasants; he spoke to them with no particular severity, and nothing appeared to indi- cate that he wished to break off his ancient relations with them. The peasants continued to call him a er THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 217 Pan Schmull, they pushed their glasses together when he said his prayers. His father’s indifference would at one time have seemed sublime to Moritz ; but an evil voice now whispered to him that this admirable indifference was not real—he looked upon it as feigned. Moritz reflected on his parents’ relations with the village; they were in his eyes odd, strange. At first he was inclined to attribute everything to the dull peasants; he put it all down to their evil disposition, which led them doubtless to hate the Jew. But soon his heart shrank from this unjust accusation. Whence, nevertheless, did the pea- -sants get this secret aversion? Why were they always spying, why that malicious joy? Where lay the roots of this trunk ? Assuredly not in religion. Did not his father pray in the midst of them? Were not signs of ithe cross made freely before every one. Moritz felt rather than expressed the conviction that reli- gion did not estrange men. Did this estrange- ment exist then, because his father was in better circumstances than they? Did it proceed from envy ? Yet there were peasants in the village, who, if they counted up all their possessions, could show themselves equal to the Randar. And more- over, they were proprietors. This could not be -said of his father. More than one peasant for the west was envied in the village; but this envy had 218 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. not the same character, as the feeling which ex- isted towards his parents. There was yet another thing between religion on the one hand, and envy on the other; this was. his father’s intellectual superiority. In this superiority, Moritz discovered the cause of the whole evil, and the keystone of his reflections. There was nothing in common _ between his father and the peasants; the intermediary link was wanting. His father was sensible, thoughtful, prudent ; the peasants on the contrary were dull, negligent, narrow-minded. How with such oppo- site characters could they agree together, and like one another ? “Tf the Jews were a little less intelligent, and the peasants a little more so,” he thought, “it would be better for both. The true secret of accord would then have been found.” But how to bring this about? Is it possible, suddenly to make men descend from an intellec-. tual and commercial elevation which they have long maintained ? Is it possible on the other hand to raise others to this height, so that they may be on a level? How could this be done without appearing to use constraint ? Moritz could not describe his parents’ situation, and their relations with the village. He began by having doubts as to his father’s naiveté and sim- plicity. His nature seemed now to Moritz to be THE RANDARS CHILDREN. 219 double. When with the peasants, he was indif- ferent, drank out of the same glass as they, and prayed in the midst of them; but at the bottom of his heart he despised them. His father one day himself confirmed this idea. They were standing together before the new granary which was nearly finished. For some time past already, the traditional bouquet of flowers, offered by the builders, had been lying on the roof. Here and there the lattice-work was covered with tiles. “You are right,” said Moritz, “to have the new granary built in stone and tiled.” “Why P” “ It will not now so quickly fall a prey to the flames.” “You think so?” said the Randar with a pecu- liar smile, such as Moritz had never before re- marked in him; “to-morrow perhaps, and while I am indoors they will set fire to the house. I dis- trust the peasants.” Reciprocal mistrust, then? On which side was it most deeply rooted ? XI.—Tue Parronat Fetes. Kacu stone which helped to reconstruct the new granary seemed successively to take with it a part of the existence of the Randar’s wife. Often she. 220 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. observed as she looked at the growing edifice, that she should consume no more corn than would be stored therein next summer; and when people tried to make her banish the gloomy notions, she shook her head, saying— “The peasant Waczlaw has taken charge of me!” Frequently, she could not for several days to- gether leave her bed; and often Moritz turned away, his eyes full of tears, at the sight of the continual progress made by his mother’s illness. His soul was then a prey at once to grief and rage. Meanwhile the patronal féte had arrived. The floors were cleaned, the branched candlesticks adorned with candles, and above all the bottles were filled. Moritz even in the depths of his anguish could not help reflecting that it was strange his father, a Jew, should have to celebrate the féte of a Catholic saint. The day before, Hannele was sitting in the garden, humming the melody of one of the village songs which were always on her lips. Suddenly something moved behind a tree. Turning her eyes that way she saw Honza, with pale features and neglected exterior. “Ah!” he said with a deep sigh; “I am here at last.” “But where have you come from?” asked Hannele in alarm. THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 297 “Not so loud,” he said trembling, and looking around with fear. “I may be seen.” “What would it matter?” “T am not permitted to show myself. Is your brother here ?”’ “ What do you want him for? ” “ Nothing—I should not have liked him to be here. You are the only person I speak to. I came across the fields so as not to have to go through the village. Hven my mother does not know where I am.” “ She will be pleased,” said Hannele, “ that you have come to see her for the holiday.” “A nice holiday,” replied Honza laughing bitterly. “The father in prison, the mother penniless, and. the son forced to hide himself! Wherever I hear a fiddle I have to make my escape; so now I have come to say good bye for a long time.” “ But where are you going?” asked Hannele in a low voice. “Tam going to Prague for two years, after which I shall probably enter the seminary of Leitmeritz. Quite six years will pass before you see me again.” “You will be sorry to stay away, shall you not? ” Hannele and Honza had hitherto spoken with eyes lowered; but at this last question Honza raised his head. Their eyes met, and Hannele’s. cheeks turned purple. A SCENES FROM THE. GHETTO. Seren siacidathcesar eternal de soksegtisae cath eben aiatmt it tener “Whether I shall or not,” said Honza, in an undertone, “TI must go. If I had only »— _ “What?” asked Hannele, immediately. “T cannot tell you.” “Oh, yes,” insisted the girl, “ you can easily tell me.” “True,” said Honza, a little vexed ; “ I need not be reserved with you : no, there is no shame in con- fiding it to you. Well, I must go away, but I have no money. My mother is not in a position to give me any.” “Do you want a large sum, Honza ? ” “A little more than twenty florins.” Hannele reflected « moment; then she cried all -at once— “Set your mind at rest, I will get you the twenty florins.” Lon” This doubt on the part of Honza frightened Hannele. But she at once returned— “Yes, I will get them; do you want more ?” “You?” repeated Honza, his face shone with Joy. Hannele was now several times called in the house; and during the intervals, cries of despair were heard. Hannele shuddered; she hastily picked up her handkerchief, which she had dropped, and departed, saying as she went— “I must go now. Come here to-morrow at the ae THE RANDAR’S OHILDREN. 223 -game time, and you shall have the money you need. Set your mind at rest, and join the holiday people.” Thereupon she returned precipitately to the house. Behind her Honza’s eyes shone like luminous rays of the sun. When she had dis- appeared from his sight he wiped his forehead and then went slowly back across the fields. On entering the house Hannele found every- thing upside down. The Randar’s wife had all at once fallen mortally ill. Her condition was worse than ever, she was expected every moment to ex- pire. A doctor had been sent for in all haste. In the yard a servant was harnessing the horses to go to the neighbouring ghetto and find the good women. The shadows of death were gradually spreading over the house. She raised herself with a groan when the good women arrived. They were robust creatures who knew how to deal with death. They entered the room noisily ; the Randar’s wife who heard them asked them at once to approach, the moment hav- ing come. The doctor in his turn arrived. He declared the patient’s strength to be exhausted, and recommended that perfect silence should be kept around her; no one was to utter in her pre- sence the least cry. Thereupon everything became still in the house; death ran about on tip-toe? During the whole night the sick woman struggled with death. Her soul could not easily 294, SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. quit the body in which it was so firmly fixed. It was only towards morning that she became calmer. The good women who during the night had been saying prayers for the dead with her were fatigued,. and wanted a little rest. The Randar’s- wife her- self now slumbered in a sleep so light that it might have been that of a healthy person ! At this moment the patronal féte commenced in the village. From all sides shoals of pilgrims arrived. Before them floated red banners. Music re- sounded; and from the inn one could hear very distinctly the melodies of the singers, and the voice of the crowd, which sang in its turn. During the intervals bells were rung and a cannon roared. The mountains and valleys were as though drunk with animation. Everything seemed to raise its voice in praise of the holy patron of the Church.. Then the village became silent once more. Divine service had just begun. From time to time a little: bell tinkled, or the crowd in prayer chanted loudly,. the noise resounding like the waves of an agitated sea. The strains of an organ, trumpet, and cymbals, putting forth all their strength, en- deavoured to outdo the feeble voices of the people. ) It was at this moment that the Randar’s wife awoke. She saw no one at her side but Moritz, who was sitting at the foot of the bed with his THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. arms folded, full of mute anguish. In a very low voice she uttered his name; he got up hastily. ‘There are still many things I should like to ‘say to you,” she said feebly. Moritz implored her not to exert herself. “One word more,” she said, smiling sadly ; “silence will not prevent my dying. But first of all, I wish to know one thing.” “What is it, my dear, good mother ? ” ‘Whether you will remain a good Jew all your life? ” “TI swear to you ”— His mother for a long time gazed upon his face, which was inundated with tears; then she said, “Now give me your host’s letter; it is there, under the pillow. It has caused me much grief.” “But do I not know the contents?” Moritz hazarded. “Obey, my child,” she said, with impatience ; “would you like it to get into your father’s hands? ” Weeping aloud, Moritz precipitated himself’ before her. He had appreciated, as he could not. have failed to do, this last mark of maternal love. . It was noon. The sermon was over, and in-. dulgences had been granted to all who had come so far to glorify the saint. After Divine service the people marched in procession before the Jew’s . Q 226 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. house, and in a few moments the public room of the inn was encumbered with thirsty guests. Between the Church and the necessaries of life there was now no longerany distance. The priest and the Randar each held one end of the festival ; to the former belonged the morning, to the latter the afternoon—the much more important part. At first the Randar was resolved to forego the profits attached to the patronal fete. As his wife was dying, he wished to receive nobody. But he was too weak to resist a whole population eager for wine and pleasure. All he could do was to give way in despair. Hannele had now to tear herself from her mother’s bedside to serve custo- mers. The Randar went about entreating each person apart to make no noise; but his words were lost in the general intoxication and joy. The musicians now arrived: nothing more was needed! The Randar had ordered them several days in advance; but to-day he did not want to Jet them play. Already, however, they had entered. ‘Then the son of the mayor of the place, the wild ‘Pawel, cried to them, “ Play all the same,” and threw them some bright silver pieces. The Randar lost his temper, and exclaimed on his side, “TI will not allow it.” But Pawel repeated to the musicians his invitation to perform a dance, and pushed away the robust Randar. The loud trumpet first showed itself a rebel; it began to THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 227 sound in the midst of the general conversation, and then in turn the violins, violincellos, and clarionets, after some delay, followed its example. The discordant sounds were repeated; but at last the instruments were in harmony, and the wild Pawel opened the dance. Moritz, who had not quitted his mother’s bed, allowed maledictions to escape him amid his tears and prayers. He cursed his father’s occupation, which would not even suffer his mother to die in peace. What a contrast in his eyes between these passionate sounds and the condition of her soul! As to Hannele, she went backwards and for- wards between her brother and father, thinking always of Honza. She thought of the twenty florins she had promised him, and of the joy the money would give him. Her soul was divided be- tween satisfaction and grief. Towards evening the sum was got together ; she had taken it from the day’s receipts. Hannele profited by a moment when the tumult was at its height in the public room of the inn. Pawel, quite drunk, had taken the partner of another man, and the latter would not permit it. Then had followed one of those quarrels, accom- panied by blows, which had long been well known in the Randar’s house. She ran into the garden; there she found Honza lying on the grass and awaiting her arrival, e.? 998 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “Have you been here long?” she asked, quite: out of breath. “‘T knew very well you would come.” “Catch hold; there is your money—it is not a farthing short.” She threw him a purse containing the twenty florins. As she did so her cheeks were burning and her hand trembled. “You lend it me willingly ? ” “Take it and hide it,” she said, in great fear. “Does your father know? ” Hannele uttered a cry, and covered her 2. in shame, and, without replying to this,question, ran back into the house. d Her interview with Honza had cost Hannele her mother’s last moments. The Randar’s wife had wished to benschen her; but she had not been present, and when she returned to the public room, where now, amid the music and quarrelling, could be heard the lamentations of her father and the rest of the household, the Randar’s wife had ex- pired. The good women were already preparing to: lay the corpse on the ground. The Randar now felt himself to possess super- human strength for putting down the tumult of the patronal fete. Blood had just been flowing; for the wild Pawel had been wounded in the temple with a beer-glass. It was, therefore, easier - Ow “THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 229 to overcome the assembly. The music ceased, and little by little the room became empty. Now the dead could rest in peace. e°a XIT.—CuHaracteristic Srans. Tue Randar’s wife had been sleeping many years in the cemetery of Miinchengratz amongst those of her children who had gone before her to the next world. Her tomb, surmounted by a white stone, is distinguishable from all the others. Moritz whenever he went from the ghetto to his father’s nodPhad to pass this tomb, and he could never keep back his tears. He recalled the poetic legend about Benjamin’s mother, “Tt was not for nothing,’ he thought, “that she was called Rachel; her tomb, like that of the patriarch’s wife, lies on the road traversed by her child, and in me she loved her Benja- min. When for the first time the Jews had to quit the Holy Land, captive and loaded with chains, Rachel was seen standing upright by her tomb, making a sign to them and bidding them farewell as she wept. Heaven grant that the shade of my mother may never have cause to be irritated with me, and punish me for having wished to expel myself, as it were, from the land of my faith! TI will ever remain true to her last words.” *® Meanwhile the Randar’s house had greatly 230 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. changed. The angel of grief reposed there as amid ruins. The gaiety of former days had disappeared. The Randar had become taciturn and melancholy. It is true that still every Friday he could be seen at his gate awaiting the arrival of the schnorrer, like Abraham that of the angels. But in the evening when the radiant Sabbath had returned, one no longer heard the joyous laughter of former times. The schnorrer in vain told the pleasantest stories, in vain talked on at their ease ; Rebb Schmull listened without unwrinkling his brow. He did not even show any longer his ancient sympathy for his Polish friends ; and the Emperor Nicholas, his deadly enemy, might now, as he often said, do whatever pleased his fancy, and send all the Jews to Siberia without disturbing the Randar. “This house is unrecognisable,” said the schnorrer on Sunday when they started on their way, “and Rebb Schmull is not the same man.” As soon, moreover, as they found a better road, they abandoned the old one; and thus the mendi- cants neglected the Randar’s house. They preferred to go two leagues further on Saturday in order to pass that of another Randar. Even the beggar hardly likes to rejoice in the shadow of melancholy. For the rest, if the Randar’s house was thus: deserted the fact was, in a great measure, due to Hannele. She received the poor haughtily and with an imperious air. By her words, as by her THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 231 actions, she made them feel their inferiority. All this gained her a bad renown for several leagues round. When speaking of her the schnorrer said that she had not in her veins a drop of her excellent mother’s blood. Among the things a Jew least readily forgives his coreligionary are haughtiness and disdain. The fortune of the house had also undergone changes. Rebb Schmull had suffered considerable losses ; his name of former days, the village Rosth- child, could no longer be applied to him as justly as before. Sudden poverty, the unexpected crumbling of an existence hitherto full of all that constitutes happiness in life, affects us much more deeply, from a moral point of view, than when we see ruin threatening us from a distance, and advanc- ing step by step; when we hear each day, nay, each hour, the sound of the worm which is openly gnawing our edifice. What had contributed not a little to hasten the Randar’s misfortunes was the loss of the old Count, who, some years after the death of the Randar’s wife, had succumbed to a terrible attack of apoplexy. This was another friend the less. Rebb Schmull no longer at the end of each quarter, as before, had his carriage got ready to take him to his gracious lordship’s house, so that he might in person pay the rent of the farm. He wou SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. had now to do with a powerful deputy whom the young Count had sent from Vienna. The day after this deputy’s arrival Rebb Schmull had hastened to drive to the castle, where the new- comer resided in the old proprietor’s place; that to begin with displeased the Randar. But what annoyed him still more was to see the powerful deputy, when Rebb Schmull gave his name—usually so graciously welcomed at the castle—receive him with the most bureaucratic politeness, and not even ask him to take a seat. “You have your own carriage?” he inquired, as by chance he looked out of the window under which he observed the conveyance. The Randar answered in the affimative with a humble smile. “Very well,” said the powerful deputy. The tone in which he pronounced these two words and the gesture with which he accompanied them were indescribable. Thereupon he began to talk of tenure and rent, and seemed as though he would never come to anend. Rebb Schmull did not understand a word of all this torrent of language, of which the conclusion was, that the existing conditions would no longer as hitherto suit the proprietor. He intimated in short that the rent would have to be raised if Rebb Schmul intended to remain, for already some one else with an affection for the place had come forward. The THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 2338 last explanation Rebb Schmull had perfectly com- prehended ; it was very clear. When the powerful deputy had done, Rebb Schmull, trembling with emotion, said— “ Sir, what another person offers Rebb Schmull can offer also.” And he made a bow. On the road he reproached himself with having been too proud with the powerful deputy. He believed that if he had shown himself more hamble and had spoken less loudly he would have been better received. It occurred to him that had he not gone to the castle in his carriage the powerful deputy would have said nothing about raising the rent. What had wounded him above all was having to stand before this employé. “ Did I nut always when I went there sit on the sofa by the side of his lordship?” he said, com- plaining bitterly; ‘and a man like that, who has been a junior clerk, lets me stand upright before him as though I were a peasant! Oh, what times we live in!” Some days afterwards the Randar paid another visit to the powerful deputy. This time he had left his carriage at home and had come to the castle on foot. He had even taken off his massive gold signet ring which had not left his finger for forty years ; he feared lest perhaps the too brilliant metal might not match the humility of his deportment. 934 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Moritz, who now after his fourth year of medi- cine was at home for the vacation, wanted to azcompany his father to the castle. On the road the Randar communicated to him the means by which he was going to try to make the powerful deputy lend and not raise the rent. “And if he will accept nothing?” asked Moritz, astonished at the frankness with which his father had revealed his plan to him. “Him accept nothing!” said the Randar quite calmly, and with an air of almost conviction. “I tell you that he would accept even plunder from the misbeach.’’* They had just reached the castle. Moritz re- mained outside while Rebb Schmull crossed the large courtyard in the humblest attitude and bare- headed, in spite of a tropical sun. The sight of this humility, prepared in some sort beforehand, deeply affected the soul of the Randar’s son. “Why such humility?” thought Moritz, looking at his father while the latter went along. “Why not go in naturally with head erect? The Jew possesses a secret which has been discovered; he is sure that to find favour before a judge he must go in with his back bent and his eyes cast down. The secret is known! But is not the Jew told every day that he must behave thus? People do not want him to be otherwise. There is. * Altar. k = THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 235 my father going quite tranquilly to commit an act of corruption. Is it not a horrible thing; but whose fault is it ?”’ After Moritz had been waiting a quarter of an hour, buried the whole time in deep reflection, Rebb Schmull returned. His face was troubled and pale; he held his hands behind his back like a man exhausted with fatigue. His eyes haggard, he passed his son without noticing him. “ Well, father? ” asked: Moritz. Rebb Schmull, before replying, looked back to see if he was far enough from the powerful deputy’s presence; then he said with anger— ** He would accept nothing.” “Did I not say so?” inquired Moritz, in an almost joyful tone ; “‘ you would not believe me.” “Fine reasoning,” said the Randar bitterly. “Do you not see then that it involves our liveli- hood ? ” “It does not,” replied Moritz with vivacity ; “‘you will always be free from want even after having to give up the occupation of Randar. Must you then sell beer and brandy on credit? Can you not take farm land and get your living by that ? It is precisely your present profession which puts you in such sad relations with the peasants. When your grange had been set fire to was there one who would put out the flames ? ” Rebb Schmull threw a piercing glance at his son.. 236 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. ““T am not in need of advice,” he said; “I can do without yours. No! my deadliest enemy would not counsel me otherwise. I will not leave the house, and if a thousand other powerful deputies wanted me to go out I would still refuse. Do you think I will so readily quit the place where I was born and brought up, where my father and my Dede * lived and grew old? My most bitter enemy alone would advise me todo so. Ah! rather than that I will pay six times as much rent.” This love for the natal soil, this sudden explo- sion of a mysterious sentiment whose roots lay even in the ground on which his father was born, made our Moritz taciturn and uneasy. Both full of bitter thoughts, they returned to the house. Hannele shared her father’s feelings, and with clasped hands entreated him not to give up his occupation. Here all was so nice! She would not know what to do if he left the house. Then, with a degree of violence which any one will un- derstand who has been able to guess the girl’s secret sentiments, she threw herself into an arm- chair and cried amid sobs— *“‘T will not go; you can do what you like.” “ Little stupid that you are! Who thinks of going?” said the Randar. “Your brother and the deputy would see me do so with pleasure, but it is * Grandfather. — ——— “LA 0 » | THE RANDAR’S CHILDREN. 937 eae EE just for this reason that I shall not. I will pay double sooner.” Hannele rose precipitately, and ran to embrace her father. Moritz, deeply grieved, stood apart from them; it seemed to him that he was nothing to either. Permit me here to reproduce the flow of thoughts which, forced out by the waves of his soul, had issued from our friend during those years of his existence which we have not de- picted. They will enable us to see that his soul, fortified by science and study, had risen high above a host of prejudices. Here are his thoughts as he himself wrote them down :— “Yesterday evening I saw Hannele lighting two wax tapers. But the first, in giving its luminous kiss to the second, went out itself. « Will it be thus with the Jewish and Christian religions ? “The assembling of ten persons, each over thirteen years of age, suffices to form a com- munity! And their prayers rise to heaven as effica- ciously as though offered up by thousands of men. A wise provision of the Talmud conceived and written under the willows of Babylon ! “‘ Now and then it seems tome that this famous ‘state religion’ is the right of raising the sword against the other religions which it oppresses. 238 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. There is evidently something important in such a state religion. We Jews had one formerly, but in what does it really consist ? What attracts to it and keeps to it the majority of the people ? Not its dogmas assuredly—these may be obscure, anti-liberal, narrow—but the great freedom of its attitude. ——_—+ -~w THE RANDAR’S OHILDREN. 279 proaches. He scarcely knew what to think of the change. Events confirmed his fears. Hannele’s flight had shaken to its very foundations the robust life of the Randar. The next morning he could not rise; and when Mendel Wilna wished to set off again on his road, he begged him to remain till after his death. In spite of all that was said to him he felt convinced that he would never get up again. The long Kippour fast and the grief which followed it had eaten away his vitality like devouring worms. He lay continually on the side of the bed nearest the wall; spoke seldom, and from time to time was heard to murmur these words, which were engraved on his soul— “The earth! the earth!” The Holemoed had arrived; but no suitor for the hand of Hannele made his appearance. On the other hand there was a corpse in the house. The Randar had died the second day of the feast of leaves. As he left the house, Mendel Wilna, who bade adieu to it for ever, remarked— “ After all I have seen and heard it seems. to me more than ever that Jerusalem ought to be rebuilt. Not till now have I really wished to give myself up to the work!” Moritz practises as a doctor in a quiet ghetto of Bohemia. He gives his care to sick bodies and 280 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. souls. His sister is a living proof of this. She will never become a wife; for no one, we suspect, will come forward courageous enough to pay court to one who has strayed so far on a strange path. | WITHOUT AUTHORISATION, WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. —_————. Ir is long since the street presented so fine an aspect as to-day. It is Holemoed. Like a young man full of gaiety who in his happiness scarcely knows how to begin his day, the Holemoed comes and goes in the ghetto; it laughs, jokes, and performs a thousand pranks. We must in- form those of our readers to whose ears the language of revelation sounds rather like the Hottentot, that the Holemoed is the joyous time of the minor feasts which take place twice a year at Easter and at Tabernacles. These two feasts, as is well known, are from their nature pretty long, for each lasts eight days. But the wise Legislator who knew very well that man grows tired of joy as of sadness inserted in both feasts the Holemoed. The days of the Holemoed are like all other days ; one can attend to his business as usual and the synagogue does not take up most of the morning ; a thousand other things easier to feel than to see indicate that to-day is not a Jontef.* And in spite of that the Jontef transpires on every side. It is as though people had been forbidden to speak of it, and to compensate themselves repre- * Greater feast. 284 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. sented it by their garments, their figures and their bearing. All is enveloped in a peculiar festal atmosphere; nowhere can be heard the piercing business cry, and it is only to avoid losing the habit that people go their daily rounds. There is not the ordinary spirit of activity. It can be plainly seen that the back which bends under balls of cotton or material for waistcoats would rather lie on the soft cushion of the Sabbath armchair, and that those who are inspecting a sack of wool or looking at pieces of silk as they are unrolled would prefer to be amid the savour of Iontef dishes. The Holemoed, in short, is the intermediary element between the silent lips of the Sabbath and the noisy gesticulations of the work day. Hence its particular character. May we not add that on this day Nature herself observes the LHolemoed? Do not the birds sing louder than usual? Does not the sun shine in a more joyous manner? It throws its rays like so many golden threads on the narrow and pointed gable ends of the ghetto. Above the houses day- light, below twilight. But there where the street widens the golden threads disperse themselves, falling unobstructed to the earth ; and the faces of those who happen to walk under these threads be- come covered with the sun’s rays and as if gilded. Here is precisely one of these faces gilded by the sun which presents itself tome. I know you WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 285 and salute you, Jaekev Lederer, and I should be inclined to cry Salem alechem if I were not aware that peace already reigns at the bottom of your heart. The whole week he has dragged himself to all the fairs exclaiming with his bad Bohemian accent, Laezint, laezini.* He has held the measure in his hand, and nevertheless he has probably sold nothing! But to-day he has remained at home, and certainly the Holemoed does not count a heart more faithful and filled with a deeper veneration for it than that of Jaekev, whose existence is so restless. As he goes along there, his hands carelessly joined behind his back, humming a Tontef tune which yesterday, for the first time, the chanter intoned in the synagogue, the Sabbath hat, ad- mirably brushed, on his head, wearing his rather threadbare old overcoat which has so long accom- panied him on his rounds through the neighbouring: villages, and on which nevertheless his cravat sheds, as it were, the soft poetry of the feast day with that smiling face, smooth and calm, is not Jaehev Lederer the Holemoed living and in person ? In truth, when that little woman, who there near the large flight of steps retails mouldy cheese and dried citron peel, addresses our man in these terms— “Are you not going to the village to-day,. * Cheap. 286 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Jaeckev?” we know beforehand the answer he will give her. “What an idea, Aunt Gitel!” he says. “Go to the village to-day! Must I never leave the peasant in peace, or shall it be said that the rich Schmull Brandeis can alone remain at home with his wife and children and regale himself with cakes, while I, Jaekev Lederer, have to go every- where with my pack of merchandise because Heaven has given him a few more pence than me? It is Holemoed to-day, and no one shal! make me quit the hille.”’* Thereupon he walks away again humming his Tontef air which is drowned in the joyous sounds of the ghetto. Here, too, we see before us living signs, as it were, of the lesser féte. House-wives dressed out are standing in the shops or sitting grouped together chattering and laughing. Business to- day is banished to the second place; but see those bonnets adorned with many-coloured ribbons, those gold chains hanging round their necks, and those pearl necklaces! Why should we not see with, pleasure the pleasure of these poor women rejoicing at their Holemoed which allows them to display such finery to the public gaze ? Across the ghetto run noisy bands of urchins ; to-day they have a dispensation from swallowing * Community, WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 287 the dust of school. Three of these screamers sur- round their mother and ask her for money. One of them leaps on his mother’s neck and covers her with caresses; the second touches her lightly on the hand, while the third and smallest pulls her maliciously by the apron, which holds some -clinking coins. The mother long resists, but in the end gives in. “And what are you going to do with it?” she asks them. ‘To-day is Holemoed,” reply the voices of the screamers in chorus, and they escape with their money. It would be necessary to be able to sound the depth of a mother’s heart in order to understand the smile with which, after casting a lingering look on the three fugitives, the woman turned round to one of her richly clad neighbours, saying— “There, Frau Foegele, now you see what it is to have children.” And why do the eyes of the richly clad woman shine at these words with a bitter lustre. Was she offended? Well, you must know that she had no children of her own. There near the old wall of the synagogue where stand three nut trees which for the whole year. supply the schamess* with such good nuts, there is assembled a troop of young boys. They are * Beadle. 288 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. playing at the game of “head or eagle,” that is to say they are throwing against the wall a piece of money ; and they gain or lose according as they have bet on the head or the Emperor’s coat of arms. ‘That boy with red hair and a face covered. with freckles, casts from his eyes rays of malicious. joy; he is pocketing the money of most of his companions. Sparkling tears roll down the cheeks of that other whose features are so charming and so soft. He has lost all his mother gave him for the Hole- moed, But suddenly the scene changes; at the end of the street a carriage has just appeared, on the box of which sits a postillion, dressed in red, gaily cracking his whip. A few moments later can be seen a young man, who gets out of the carriage and directs his steps straight to the ghetto. At the sight of him a whisper of admiration runs through the shops and the ranks of the highly dressed house-wives. Heads of curious young women appear at the windows, the boys them- selves, for some seconds at least, make a truce in their noise. The young man, dressed “like a prince,” with glittering rings on his ten fingers, which shed on all sides a magic light, a satin cravat, elegantly tied round his neck, has stopped at a shop, and asked which is Rebb Schmull Brandeis’s house. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION, 289 At this question a boy precipitately left the society of his companions and ran at full speed towards Rebb Schmull Brandeis’s house. What a chance ! he will be the first to give news there of the arrival of the carriage. He is sure to get a good recompense. “The bomb is truly going to explode there to- day,” says the richly clad mother of three screamers ; “all through the year I have seen the schadschan* going to the place.” “Tt is high time,” replies the other with an ironical smile; “she has been long enough with her ten thousand florins making suitors press for her hand. Already the most eligible men have been proposed to her; she will end perhaps by hooking one on.” “* Ts it true that she gets ten thousand florins? ” ‘‘Ten thousand florins down and a stock of clothes as good as any princess.” The women have guessed aright. The young man with the satin cravat and sparkling rings has in fact come to have a matrimonial interview with Rebb Schmull Brandeis’s daughter. But now the young man and Rebb Schmull Brandeis’s daughter, with her ten thousand florins, as well as the matrimonial interview fade away before another incident. From the Rabbi’s house * Matrimonial agent. 290 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. at this moment is issuing a troop of newly engaged couples. They are going to submit to a painful ordeal, for they have to go the bailiff’s to endure an examination in the “Children of Zion.”* And if some of these herculean types whom from their rustic pronunciation we shall know to be young men and maids from the village, are for the moment a prey to fear, they must be pardoned. This is per- haps the first time they have quitted their silent country home; and now they have in presence of the Rabbi to render account of what they know or do uot know of the religion of their fathers. Some of the other young women look prouder and more confident. To them the examination is nothing; they have their ‘ Children of Zion” at their finger ends, and they laugh at the villagers’ fears. The instructor had not for six months to labour in order to get “morality” into their heads. Moreover, they will reply in good German, and they rejoice beforehand to hear the absurd answers given by the men and maids of the village. Happy maids of the ghetto who have been trained to speak good German ! 'The smiling Holemoed figure of Jaekev Lederer * According to the laws now in force, a couple of lovers, before they can think of an official demand for an authorisation of mar- riage, must undergo before the chief Rabbi, the head of the com- munity, an examination in the book of moral and religious in- struction called the “ Children of Zion.” This book of which the forms have grown a little antiquated is being replaced by another more in accord with modern times, whose author is Dr. Wessely of Prague, a WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 291 had traversed all the various scenes like so many moving pictures. He had stopped nowhere; his Tontef air had not ceased to resound from his lips and had dominated the divers sounds of the ghetto. Not until he passed near some pairs of lovers going to be examined did he become silent. He followed them with his eyes till they disappeared behind the corner of the criminal prison. Now he found himself close to the young boys at play by the side of the synagogue; a violent quarrel had just broken out amongst them. The red-haired boy covered with freckles had cheated. Perceiving that the piece of money did not turn up to his advantage he had by a quick movement of his foot reversed it and made it favourable to himself. All the others cried out ‘“‘ cheat” and “ thief.” The boy who seemed most inconsolable was the one with such soft and charm- ing features; for he it was who had just been playing with the red-haired boy. The latter, however, would not give in so readily ; he per- sisted in his assertion. All the others, like so many ardent champions of right and truth, precipitated themselves upon him; and soon the red-haired boy found himself imprisoned, as it were, by the fists of the young avengers. “Take care!” he cried, grinding his teeth, to the child so full of gentleness, “ take care, bastard ; 292, SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. for you are one—your father married without a rischojin.”’* The child began to weep aloud. Jaekev Lederer approached. He had heard the insult inflicted by the red-haired boy upon the child with such a gentle character. At one bound he leaped into the circle, took the weeping child by the arm and led him away without saying a word. To see him going along the ghetto, holding by the hand the child, who was his own, you would not have recognised the Jaekev Lederer of just now. The Jontef air had expired on his lips where at present resided bitter grief extending seemingly to his eyes, which were humid and brilliant the while. The laughing figure of the Holemoed had vanished. The sudden change in our friend Jaekev Lederer had a good cause. We ought to have stated this cause long ago, but was it possible? How could we say such a thing in face of the joyous, happy Holemoed ? This Jaekev Lederer had indeed married without authorisation ; and as the red-haired boy in his. anger had just turned over some retrospective pages of the life and acts of Jaekev Lederer, we shall try not to let them escape us, and shall only continue on our path when we have read them. * Authorisation to marry granted by the imperial government at Prague. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 293 By a singular chance of destiny Jaekev Lederer found that he had a truly astonishing relation to one of his ancestors of the same name, the pa- triarch Jacob that is to say. If the delightful romantic episode of Jacob’s love for Rachel were not found recorded as authentic in such and such a chapter of the first book of the Pentateuch, one would be inclined to believe that the whole thing was but an allegory referring to the future fortune of our Jaekev Lederer. Do not, however, expect much romance ; for we are in the ghetto, and here people have something else to do than to loiter near the springs in order to help beautiful Rachels to roll heavy stones from the mouths of wells! In the ghetto, men and women are themselves stones, and they have themselves to submit to being pushed and rolled. We shall have to set forth many other differences between the two men. That is not our fault. But one thing was common to both; they each had their Laban. We shall very soon make the acquaintance of Jaekev’s. Like his ancestor the patriarch, our Jaekev had the misfortune to be a younger son; indeed, of his father’s four sons he was the last born. What joy for the Jewish mothers who formerly had the good luck to nourish their children in the land of Canaan, and how they praised the Lord when it had been given to them to feed with 294 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. strength a large number of sons! They would hardly have believed us had we told them the grief of our mothers of to-day, who sigh much more after girls than for boys. “What is my son to do in order to have a ‘right of family?’ ’’* Such is the question one often hears them ask. Our Jaekev’s mother, during the eight days which followed the birth of her son, had made a similar inquiry without having been able to reply to it. His father, Rebb David Lederer, was in truth a familiant, but our Jaekev could profit nothing by that. For according to law his eldest brother Reuben would inherit the “family right.” Jaekev wastruly to be envied ; he had a “family” before he was able to understand the meaning of the word. His second brother Nathan could still be regarded as fortunate; he was a man of learning, and had taken his doctor’s degree, being thus free to marry without waiting for a “family right.” Anschel, his third brother, as an honest tailor, enjoyed the same advantage as the doctor. Not possessing a * The number of Jews enjoying the right of residence in Bohemia has many years been limited to some thousand families, But with the growth of the population this proportion has be- come insufficient. The possessors of these family rights, which are moreover hereditary, enjoy all kinds of advantages. It must be added that these rights can be bought; or they can be con- ferred by the lords of the manor or the municipalities. Often half a dowry is spent in purchasing this “ right of family.” Only the learned graduate and the licensed workman are free from this restriction. Written in 1848, these restrictions have since been removed.— TRANSLATOR. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 295 family right, he, too, had been able to create one. Jaekev, alone, who was neither first-born, nor a doctor, nor a workman, could not by the state laws be the head of a family. Curious to say, a person is born and continues to live, although he positively knows himself to be a State criminal. And such, it cannot be denied, was our Jaekev. It is true that it was no longer possible to procure for him the privilege of a first- born, which Rebecca had been unable to confer on her second son. But why did not he also become a doctor or a tailor? Why thus let slip the occa- sion and means of obtaining a family right? But as, merely perhaps by way of change, he had chosen the trade of hawker, what was he to do? Then, as beforehand, all claim to possess a “family right” had been taken from him, and as nevertheless, according to all human probability, he would desire to be head of a family, was he not, from the moment of his entry into the world, what may be called a State criminal ? Jaekev had reached an age at’ which—it was in the order of nature—he was firmly resolved to realize this design. He had cast his eyes on a pretty girl named Resel; she was the daughter of a poor hawker like himself. This choice did our Jaekev the greatest honour; his Resel was a graceful flower of the ghetto. As a match, however, she was none of the best; SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. her dowry consisted merely of some hundreds of florins. When at the signing of the contract, just as the cup was about to be broken in sign of the betrothal of Jaekev and Resel, he was asked— “ But what will you do about a family right? Are you not a fourth son? ” then Jaekev replied— *¢ First of all I wish to be a hosen;* as for the family right, the Almighty will provide that.” Are there not many persons who reach an ad- vanced age, and of whom some even die, without getting a definite meaning of the word “ State?” Our Jaekev must not be ranged with these. Too soon, unfortunately for him, he became acquainted with this enigmatical being from which no one can entirely escape, because it is before, behind and at the side of everybody—like a certain pig- tail of celebrated memory. Three years had passed since his betrothal, and still Jaekev was without his family right. Yet during this interval a large number of familiants had died; but the second and third sons of rich balbatim + had always got the better of him. There had not been a single vacancy for Jaekev. Meanwhile Resel had become a very pretty rose. It was that perhaps which urged Jaekev to move heaven and earth in order to obtain his reschojin or permission to marry. Why did the State stand between them? Jaekev had at length * A betrothed person. + Fathers of families. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 297 ceased to count on a family right; it always escaped him. Then he wished to try whether things could not go on without a family right. So he collected all the different things necessary to obtain an authorisation to marry ; and as the least and most insignificant of these may nevertheless excite our curiosity, we will now look into the little packet, tolerably big, of attestations, certificates, and evidences of all kinds which had to be written on sheets of paper bearing expensive stamps. First there was the conscription sheet on which witness was borne to the fact that Jaekev Lederer had been liberated from military service. He had passed the assembly of revision, and they had found him weak in the chest so in this respect he was in order. Then came the evidence of non-relationship ; an indispensable document affirming that between Jaekev and his betrothed there existed no degree of affinity contrary to law. After this the testimony concerning the book of the “Children of Zion,’’ about which we have already spoken. Then his certificate of birth, taken from the book at the Synagogue. Then a certificate of cirewmcision. Then a certificate of good life and manners, attest- ing that he was amoral man. As regards this point, 298 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. in truth they could have been quite at rest. During the whole year Jaekev did nothing wrong ; he never got drunk, never made a disturbance at night. Who, indeed, we ask ; who behaves badly in the ghetto? Then at length came the certificate of religion, as the necessary complement of the certificate of birth and the other testimony, showing that eight days after his birth Jaekev had been received into religion according to the Jewish rite. Finally the certificate of his father’s death. With such a number of certificates, documents, and attestations, it would seem that Jaekev ought to have obtained enough authorisations to marry. But he did not obtain one! The most important thing of all was wanting in the big packet, namely, the necessary extract from the Jewish family book; Jaekev, alas, was not a“ familiant ! ” The documents were sent in; six months elapsed during which Jaekev presumed that the authorities had long since impressed the reschojin with their official seal. But one Sabbath an agent from the municipal police brought him back the entire packet, together with yet another document, of which the contents may be summed up thus: that Jacob Lederer, Jewish merchant, living at No. 15, must know that without the extract from the Jewish family book, and unless therein authorised in the terms of the law (paragraph after para- WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 999 in graph cited here), it was useless for a person to put forth claims for an authorisation to marry, and that consequently Jacob Lederer, as ignorant of the laws, and as having neglected to conform there- to, was once for all refused his demand. A municipal councillor had signed his name on the document ; an evident proof that the big packet of attestations had lain at the Mayor’s office during the whole six months without going else- where. . By this document Jaekev Lederer and his Resel saw their future cut off, as it were, by a knife. Three more years passed and still they had not re- covered from this first check. There was only one thing which the official document had not men- tioned; that they must cease to belong to one another, to love and to hope, although that was implied. Is there not something touching in this couple of long since betrothed lovers? In such a case love never showsitself unless with shame ; it squeezes hands in secret, amd only blushes when unobserved. People took pleasure in laughing at this couple of ancient lovers. On the Sabbath Jaekev and Resel walked together in solitude; for they could no more be ranged with the young people than with the married couples. And then it was maliciously asked why the two were allowed to go out thus. alone? Was it not rather dangerous ? SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Jaekev had once more sent in his demand; but this time he had only a month to wait for a reply. The reply was couched in much less gentle terms than before. Among other civilities Jaekev was told that he ought to have taken the first answer as a sufficient warning, and he wasno more to importune the administration, &c. It was the fourth year of their engagement, Jaekev with his thirty-six years had become anold bachelor, Resel was only three years younger, Jaekev took the official reply to his betrothed at her house; they read it together, and the old bachelor and the old maid wept like children, or somewhat after the manner of Jacob and Rachel when Laban had similarly opposed their suit. At length Jaekev’s patience which had lasted fourteen whole years turned into silent rage. One day he said to his Resel— “TI can see that as for the reschojin we must not think of it, the authorities refuse. But I don’t want to wait any longer. Resel, are you willing to get married ? ”” Resel remained silent, and what is more did not even blush at this tender inquiry. Had she not during all this time become a little familiar with the sound and meaning of the word chasene.* “Well, are you willing?” he asked for the second time. * Marriage. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION, “Yes,” she replied in a low voice. * All right,” said Jaekev, “in fifteen days we will get married, although witho.t a reschojin.”’ After waiting fourteen years, could they indeed do anything else? The parents of the couple of old lovers had nothing to say against the authorisation which the latter had granted to themselves. The marriage was fixed to take place at Lag Beomer.* The marriage took place, not in the town, but in a village, because it was necessary to avoid publicity. Just as many persons were invited as were necessary to form a minian.t All was done in the quietest possible way. The houwpé or nuptial dais, under which the couple were to re- ceive the benediction, was nut erected in the open air, but in an underground room; and as the chief Rabbi in his quality of official personage could not unite them, a poor Rabbi pronounced the benedic- tion on the old bachelor and his betrothed. During the superb nuptial repast which followed the young woman showed herself particularly sad. * The seven weeks intervening between Easter and Whitsun- tide, bear a certain resemblance to the “ Lent” which follows Ash Wednesday. During this interval all pleasures are set aside, because the influence is feared of evil spirits which at this time makes itself felt. The thirty-third day is an exception. On that day marriages are celebrated, and other amusements indulged in ; it is called Lag Beomer, or the scholars’ feast. + Assembly of ten men. 302 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Under the bonnet embroidered in gold, which she wore as an indication that henceforth she was not one of the unmarried women, and of which the fringe fell over her eyes—beneath this bonnet trickled hot tears. The poor woman regretted having got married so secretly, and without any one knowing it, as though, during her former life, she had, Heaven forbid, committed some fault. “Cheer up, Resel,” said Jaekev, who had re- tained all his gaiety, “I love you just the same, although we have no reschojin.” The next day Jaekev was beaming all over. A reschojin was no longer needed in order that his happiness might be at its height. We have already said that the Jontef air had ex- pired on his lips, where now resided bitter grief, which seemed to extend even to his eyes. The smiling figure of the Holemoed had vanished. Do you now understand why Jaekev Lederer had so long followed with his eyes the young men and maids going to be examined in the “ Children of Zion?’ Why, too, he seized his child by the band and led him away? Do you perceive more- over the cause of his sudden departure ? Men often vex themselves out of measure about altogether insignificant things, which on cool ex- amination they see to be quite ridiculous. At heart then Lederer ought not to have taken offence at the insult of the little red-haired boy; for his WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 303 r -child was the son of virtuous parents, although they had been married without a reschaojin. Had he, though, a dark foreboding that the in- sult, he had just heard, was but the prelude to a far greater misfortune ? At noon, as Jaekev Lederer was at table with his wife and child, a knock was heard at the door, and on the words “Come in,” the agent of the municipal police, a paper in hand, entered the silent dwelling. Who does not from experience know the terror which the executive power sheds around itself? Jaekev Lederer and his wife turned pale as death. The police agent who had just entered was for the rest an old acquaintance of Jaekev’s. He it was who had always brought the replies and the refusals of the municipality, and painful as had been the contents of these documents, he had never gone away empty-handed. So the agent on entering, made a familiar salutation, and in ac- quitting himself of his mission did not behave in the surly manner usual with police officers, who generally show their claws ten paces off. ‘‘ Jaekev Lederer,” said the police agent as he handed him a notification, “you are required to appear on Tuesday morning, as the clock strikes nine, at the Town Hall. You are cited before the burgomaster.” “Who?” asked Jaekev, with that smiling 304 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. innocence which fear begets. ‘ What does the: burgomaster want me for ?”’ The police officer apologized for being un- able to reply to this question, and meanwhile sat down with dignity at the table as though he meant thereby, “I have only to use my will to deprive you of all this.” Resel understood this mute language of the executive power, and at once cut off a large piece of Iontef cake, and placed it before him as a just tribute. So long as the police agent sat there eating, Jaekev endeavoured to keep countenance’; but hardly had he left when he threw far from him his knife and fork, and with both hands covered his face. ** Misery !” cried Resel. “Jaekev, what crime have you committed? Have you bought some stolen article ? ” In any other circumstance, such a question even from his wife, would have irritated Jaekev in the highest degree. But now all his thoughts and sentiments were buried in grief. *‘ Schmah Isroel/” he cried, “have you for- gotten that we were married without a reschojin ? It is that, I will bet my head! What sin then have I committed ? ” It is a characteristic peculiar to good men, that they attribute all their misfortunes to themselves. For the rest this fatum of sin exercises in the WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 305 ghetto its gloomy power. The fault lies perhaps with the prophets of the Old Testament, who threw the least with the greatest sins into one common urn until this urn overflowed. The contents, however, of the vessel have remained in the ghetto. And yet we often so little deserve our misfortunes. What sin for example, had Jaekev Lederer committed to bring about the accession of a new king of Egypt —that is to say of a new burgomaster ? And the new burgomaster, impatient to dis- tinguish himself, wished for that reason to lay his hand on Jaekev Lederer’s shoulder. Even to this day, when the State and the ghetto are constantly in relations with one another, there exist so many laws and ordinances which are not proclaimed, but dormant, and which hang like invisible swords over the Jew’s head, that the lowest officials can do themselves the pleasure of playing the part of a Haman on a small scale. In the ghetto then, whenever a new-comer of this kind is installed, all eyes are turned upon him in the greatest uneasiness. What does he bring with him? Is he desirous of making himself remarked? How will he behave to the Jews? for a beginning is always made upon them. It is not till long after, when constant relations have familiarised them with the mildness of the judge’s character, that they cease to take such great x 306 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. nr — —" precautions; and we have even instances of | burgomasters becoming in their turn friends of the ghetto. Let us hope for a conversion of this kind in our new burgomaster. But for the moment we must not think of it. The new burgomaster intends to be severe; it is only a fortnight since he was invested with his functions. So Jaekev Lederer knows what his marriage without a reschojin will cost him ! Mute grief breaking out from time to time ia loud laments on the part of Jaekev, and tears on that of Resel, filled the little apartment. The couple saw the iron hand of justice pass to and fro before their eyes ; they felt its invisible power without knowing how to avoid it. At length their long regret having produced no result, Jaekev as though inspired with a thought from heaven cried joyfully, “ What do you think, Resel, an idea has struck me: let us send to the advocate—he will give us good advice.” Resel consented. The “advocate,” we must hasten to say, was nei- ther a man of study nor of science ; he was simply Rebb Lippmann Goldberg, of whom people said ‘by way of eulogy, that ‘he had a head of iron.” This head of iron was not exactly his own work, but had been formed by long experience in judicial affairs. Rebb Lippmann belonged to that class of citizens who throughout the year are “up WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 307 to the neck ” in law cases. There was never a week in which he had not business to do at the, municipal council house, the court, or elsewhere. For that reason, as well as by a genius for chicanery, he had acquired such a knowledge of legal procedure that he succeeded in most of his cases without resorting to any one else. So the people in the ghetto thought very highly of him, seeing moreover that frequently he had gained riches for them by his quibbles and his tricks; and they profited also by his counsel for suits they themselves conducted. He pointed out to them, for example, the steps to take, and put cunning shifts on their tongue. And if one was a little amiable towards him he undertook to ascertain from the notaries and officials with whom he was in general on the best terms what day such and such a case would be called up, or such and such a petition examined and sent forward. All this had procured for him, and, in truth, more justly than for many a student, the title of “* advocate.” The advocate appeared. He was not tall, and his exterior said nothing particular; but his face sparkled and glittered like knife blades. Directly he entered the couple felt considerably relieved ; so true it is that the approach of good advice, even when it has not yet been given, causes tran- quillity. 308 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “Well,” said the advocate without replying to the Baruch habo,* “what has happened? Your face is as sad as rain.” Jaekev began to lament his luck, adding that he feared it was owing to the reschojin that the notification had been sent to him. “Ts it here?” asked the advocate, interrupting’ him. The notification still lay on the table. Rebb Lippmann took it up and went towards the window to examine it the better. He remained fully a quarter of an hour thus engaged ; for with a mania common to clever men who understand the law our advocate thought that under each comma and dot over the letter 7 there must be a hidden mean-- ing like a trap, and that this hidden meaning could only be divined by dint of reflection and mental torture. It will be seen that the advocate was well up in the law. After reading it over several times, after weighing each word as ina balance of gold ten times without passing to the next he threw the paper with violence on to the table and cried— ' “You have nothing at all to fear; I tell you so myself.”” The fact is that the notification said nothing * “ Blessed be he who enters.’’ The new-comer ought to reply on his side, “ Blessed be they who are sitting here.’ Baruch Joschvim. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 309 but this, that Jaekev Lederer, Jewish dealer, and the woman Resel must appear on Tuesday morn- ing without fail at nine o’clock precisely, at the Town Hall, No. 5; that in case of failure, &c., &e. It was the jargon habitually employed by the municipal administration. | “Do you think so seriously, Rebb Lippmann ? ” inquired Resel, observing how confident the ad- vocate was. “ You have nothing at all to fear,” he repeated, “Lippmann Goldberg tells you so.” This consolation so imperturbably expressed, had not altogether convinced Jaekev; he mur- mured— * But still, Rebb Lippmann, if ”— ‘‘Tdiot that you are,” he replied with a smile of superiority, “idiot that you are! If they had had any designs on your person would they have sent a notification to your house? The polic would at once have come to take you to prison Do you think that the administration would amuse itself with scrawling on paper, and would only ‘want to see you in two days if it really desired to take you by the collar? In any case you have nothing to fear; I know what I am saying.” Thereupon he went towards the door, having thus acquitted himself of his duty as counsellor. But the advocate’s clever explanation on the Subject of justice in its apprehending and justice 310 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. -in its writing character had not in the least tranquillised the married couple. “But, if, Rebb Lippmann,” said Jaekev—“ for you know very well that we were married without a reschojin—but, if they had designs on our person ? ”— “That is not what the notification says,” re- plied the pitiless advocate, who, for the second time and in the manner of sharp men, went by the letter of the law. Already he held the latch on his way out. “ But if,’ cried Resel with anxiety, running after him and shedding tears copiously, “ but if they speak to us of the reschajin/ For the love of heaven, Rebb Lippmann, what are we to say, what are we to say? Aid us, counsel us!” The profound distress of the husband and wife seemed to have touched the altogether judicial heart of the advocate; he slowly retraced his steps, placed himself at the head of the table,. lowered his eyes, and for some time reflected. Then, all at once— “Good! Positus / Suppose you are both asked for your reschojin, what must youdo then? To Jaekev they will say, ‘Is it true, Jacob Lederer,. that you have taken as your legitimate wife, the aforesaid Resel Mireles, now present?’ What will you reply to that question ? ” “ Yes,” said Jaekev. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 8311 “No, no,” cried the advocate, violently striking the table. “No, a thousand times no. Directly ~ you say that, you will be guilty. Then your turn will come, Resel. You will be interrogated, and they will inquire of you also, ‘Is it true, Resel Mireles, that the aforesaid Jacob Lederer, now present, has taken you as his legitimate wife? ’ ” ““No,” answered Resel, in tears; she uttered an evident falsehood in order to please the advocate. “Good,” said Rebb Lippmann. “ Both of you must say no. Note that well, and -do not be mis- taken. But then they will say to you, ‘ Well, Jacob Lederer, since you have not taken for wife the aforesaid Resel Mireles, what is she to you?’ for you must know that these municipal gentle- men have good heads. What will you reply to that ? ” “She is my wife, my lawful wife,” cried Jaekev, forgetting. He would have made no other exclamation before the judge. Resel sobbed. “Go on,” said the advocate with more calm- ness than one would have expected from him— Then suddenly speaking in a louder and _ loftier voice: “So you cannot get into your stupid head that you must not say yes. You are determined to begin by ruining yourself. If they ask you, ‘Since the aforesaid Resel SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Mireles is not your wife, what is she?’ you must answer, ‘She is my housekeeper,’ and you, Resel, you will say, ‘Jacob Lederer supports me.’ By this means you will both get out of the difficulty.” ‘His housekeeper!” said Resel, in a tone of lament; ‘Jaekev, I have to pass merely for your housekeeper. Who ever heard of such a thing? ” “ Get clear in any other way if you can,” said the advocate, rising. “I have given you all the advice at my command. I repeat it: Resel must pass for your housekeeper, and they will think she is supported by you. I see no other means.” “ Oh, heavens!” exclaimed Jaekev, “ what ob- ject has the Hmperor in thus tormenting me, my wife, and my child? What have I done to him ? He does not even know me, and I do not know him.” * Fine reasoning,” cried the advocate irritated, for his whole judicial nature revolted at this naive _ exclamation. “Would you have the Emperor of Vienna know who Jaekev Lederer is, and that he has taken a wife without a reschojin? The Emperor has his tribunals, and they have their regulations, which the Emperor himself cannot alter. A good joke! The Emperor know of Jaekev Lederer’s sorrows! He has other cares in his head ; at this moment he is perhaps thinking of making war against England or Russia.” WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 313 After this short but sufficient discourse on the nature of the “absolute monarchy, limited,” the advocate went away without however leaving behind him either tranquillity or consolation. For of what use were his directions, wise as they might be concerning the attitude to be observed before the tribunal, by people who had got married without a reschojin ? Resel in particular could not reconcile herself to the idea, that she must pass merely for Jaekev’s housekeeper. We shall not inform the reader that she spent two lamentable days in tears; for we shall find it difficult to make him believe that often the night did not, in Resel’s eyes, seem dark enough to hide the blusaes on her cheeks when she recalled the word housekeeper and all that it conveyed. It is Tuesday morning. Time, nine o’clock precisely. Let us accompany the anxious couple to the Town Hall. In walking straight from the ghetto we shall not pass through the market place, for shame prevents our going by the large gate where the women from their shops could see us, But we shall creep along by the back of the Town Hall where stands the house of correction. Now, with palpitating heart, we ascend the narrow wind- ing flight of steps which more than one person has descended for the last time to the sound of a little bell in indication of a hanging. Let us stop there, 314 SUENES FROM THE GHETTO. at office No. 5. Let us leave the amiable police to receive Jaekev Lederer and his wife ; the door is slammed. We remain outside. “‘ Jaekev Lederer,” says the burgomaster, “ you have a child. What is his name?” “ Benjamin, Mr, Burgomaster.”’ “His age ? ” “ He will be eight at our Passover.” “ Who is his mother ? ” “TI, Mr. Burgomaster,” cried Resel, witha deep sense of her maternity. At this moment the face of “little Rose” pre- sented aremarkably touching aspect. ’ The burgomaster at her reply looked fixedly in front of him; he seemed to be thinking of some new questions. In office No. 5 one could almost hear the beating of the mother’s heart. “Jaekev Lederer,” then inquired the burgo- master, “do you acknowledge this child to be your son P”’ “Am I not his father ? ” The burgomaster reflected again. * And Resel Mireles, what is the nature of your relations with Jaekev Lederer?” “T do not understand, Mr. Burgomaster.” “T ask you if he furnishes you with enough money for the maintenance and education of your child ?” Resel opened her eyes wide. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 315 “Ts he not my ?”— she was going to say, but suddenly she reflected, and corrected herself thus : “Ts he not his father? ” ‘¢ What surname does the child bear?” <¢ Lederer, sir.” “Do you live in Jacob Lederer’s house Resel? ” At this moment appeared to Resel’s eyes a kind of ocean which threatened to overwhelm her, The palpitation of her heart became more and more audible. In the midst of tears and sobs she cried— «Am I not his housekeeper ? ” The burgomaster raised his eyes; his heart was not so prone to evil that he could not be affected by Resel’s exclamation. He suspected the secret of the whole matter; and we must say, to his honour, that he was sorry to have pressed these poor Jews so far—a proof, we record it with joy, that we were not deceived in our presenti- ments expressed above. He now went on questioning with much more mildness, and judging simply from the tone of his voice, we may conclude that he was touched. He even inquired, and with interest, about Jaekev's circumstances; then he dismissed them, and when they were near the door once more addressed Jaekev. «“T charge you Jaekev Lederer,” he said, “ to treat your illegitimate child and your housekeeper, 316 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. as well as though they were your legitimate child and your wife.” “Rest assured, Mr. Burgomaster, we fathers of the ghetto never fail to fulfil such duties.” Below, in front of the Town Hall, the advocate awaited to hear the result of the affair. Directly he saw the husband and wife return safe and sound he cried— “Well, did I deceive you? Had you the least thing to fear? ” Beaming with joy, Jaekev repeated to him the ‘questions that had been asked, and told him how surprised he was that nothing had been said about the reschojin. “Fool that you are,” said the advocate, “that only surprises you because you understand nothing of jurisprudence. Under each question he put to you, the reschgjin lay: hidden. A magistrate, if he wishes to arrive at the truth, is obliged to pro- ceed in that fashion. For every person cited before justice, however innocent he may be, has a desire to lie. Consequently the acute magistrate is compelled to question you in such a way that he entraps you without your suspecting it.” Resel walked with the two men in silence, ab- sorbed in her thoughts; she seemed to pay but little attention to the advocate’s interpretations. Suddenly she cried— WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 317 “Rebb Lippman, what is an illegitimate child? That is the expression used by the burgomaster, but I don’t know what it means.” “Tt is a child like any other child,” replied the advocate, “ with the difference that it has not an avowed father.”’ “ What does that mean ?” “Tt means that the child was born before chasene.”* «¢ And therefore a bastard ? ” “ee, “ Heavens,” cried the unfortunate Resel, rais- ing her hands to the sky. “So my child is a bastard, my child is not legitimate! The burgo- master lied if he said so; my child is as legiti-. mate as any in our street. I am his legitimate mother, and Jaekev his legitimate father. Who will dare contradict this?” “ Foolish woman,” said the advocate, “do we not know all that? But the burgomaster must not know it; otherwise would you have declared to him that you are only Jaekev Lederer’s housekeeper ?” “ Heavens! what have I done,” said Resel in a tone of lament. “I have insulted my own child. Now the burgomaster seriously believes that I am only Jaekev’s housekeeper, and that my child— Heaven preserve me! is a natural child. What have I done ?” * Marriage. 318 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. “There is no way,” murmured the advocate “of making women understand reason,” and as he had just arrived at his abode, he precipitated himself thereinto, leaving his two companions. Resel went along the street uttering complaints and cries of grief, which Jaekev could not appease. People looked at her in astonishment. But it was not till she got home that her grief broke out beyond measure; for a long time she was un- able toresign herself. It was a very sad Holemoed. ‘The word “ housekeeper ” had deeply afflicted her ; but natural child broke her very heart. “Strange woman,” said Jaekev to her, “ought we not to lift our hands to Heaven and thank God for having enabled us to escape from the burgo- master’s hands? Why do you cry and complain in this way ? ” “You speak like that because it was not you ‘that brought the child into the world. You are not concerned that at the Town Hall your child should be treated as a bastard. Is that the name that my angelic boy must bear? Rather than this Jaekev, I will cry from every housetop so that all may know it; the whole world shall know that Resel Lederer is a respectable woman, and that her son is respectable too. I will find means, though I have to go to the Emperor at Vienna.” Who is not acquainted with this singular action of our soul when by a thousand diverse thoughts WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 319 as by so many instruments, it tries the full compass of its wings? Without being yet in accord, these thoughts sound pell-mell, this a little more, this a little less loud, until at length, one strong thought, hidden hitherto, begins to, increase and grows more and more. Then it has to be given way to; all the other thoughts vanish, and the single great one remains sole mistress. Thus things went on in the mind of Jaekev Lederer’s wife with her idea of going to see the ; Emperor. The idea once conceived that his Majesty could legitimatize her children, it never left her for long. Continually it returned ; Resel saw it grow, so to say; saw it take form and consistency. The Emperor, the Emperor alone could aid her. It may seem strange to us that this simple woman in the depth of her grief should rush so quickly towards what she considered the highest authority under heaven; the reason is that on solemn occasions the human soul has no notion of the slowness of transitions—then it either de- spairs or exaltsitself. For the rest, at all times the figure of the Emperor hovers high and power- ful in the ghetto! The people look upon him as responsible for everything; he can bind and un- bind, he represents the law and he is the independent will, he can bring about impossibilities, and over- throw possibilities. Who knows whether he may not confer a “family right’ on Jaekev Lederer ? 320 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Resel then wanted to go to Vienna. In the middle of the night she awoke her husband to communicate to him the resolution she had formed after ample reflection. “Jaekev,” she said, “I am going to see the Emperor at Vienna, and to beg him to give mea ‘family right.’ ” “A pleasant journey,’ replied Jaekev, half asleep; then his head fell back on the pillow. The next day she approached him with the same words. Jaekev merely laughed; then Resel took offence and began to lament. Jaekev on his side became gradually reconciled to the idea of going” for help to a high place, and this was quite natural. He admired the boldness of his wife who had resolved to go, without further ceremony to the Emperor at Vienna; and he admired her so much, that he ended by sharing her courage. After all the journey was not such a long one. Once more the advocate was sent to. He came. Ue was informed of the determination which had been made. Jaekev had first thought that the advocate would laugh at it and reject the idea; but in this matter he did not at all understand the judicial nature of Lippmann Goldberg. To him who lived on terms of the closest intimacy with the representatives of terrestial justice, who had un— restrained access to the offices of all the notaries WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. Sot and officials, must not this step towards the Emperor, the greatest of all judges, seem sublime ? “Who would have suspected this in Resel Mireles? ” he said, holding his hands clasped and gazing fora long time at that courageous woman. “One would have thought she didn’t know that two and two make four, and here she is wanting to go straight to the Emperor! Courage, Resel! But before your departure I will give you some instructions as to how you must speak to the Emperor, for this is a matser which requires atten- tion ; it is not as though you were going to address yourself to the roschz hakohl,* Schmull Brandeis.” “Excuse me, Rebb Lippmann,” replied Resel, who had not yet forgotten the word “housekeeper ” ; “it is unnecessary to tell me what I ought to say ; rest assured, I shall speak as Heaven inspires me.” The advocate smiled ; he saw with pleasure the unshakable woman’s determination, which he appreciated better than any one. He was re- quested to draw up a petition to the Emperor fora FAMILY RIGHT, and secrecy in the affair was en- joined upon him. The advocate promised to go at once toa notary of his acquaintance. In the evening nevertheless, it was known throughout the ghetto that Resel Mireles proposed immedi- * Chief of the community. oe) Lo bo SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. ately after the holidays, to go and have an audience of the Emperor. Atthe time when Resel repaired from the heart of peaceful Bohemia to the noisy town of Vienna, the journey was not made sorapidly as now. One had to pass three days and three nights on the road before seeing the spire of the tower of Saint- Stephen. So at present the Jewish people are perfectly happy, and have nothing more to wish. What more, indeed, can they desire? If for example a Jew nowadays finds himself somewhere in presence of a burgomaster, and is not altogether satisfied with him, he takes the train in the evening, and very early the next day ean have his audience at Vienna. Would it not be ungrateful to expect more? The first thing that Resel had to do in the great town of pleasures was to visit the judenamt,* in view of a passport and a permit of sojourn. It was quite natural; before reaching the Emperor the police had to be passed. In the ante-room at- tached to the judenamt Resel met nearly eighty persons, as many men as women and children of her religion, who were all awaiting the joyful 7 moment when the police soldier guarding the door leading to the Chancellor’s office would open it to them. The door at length opened, and the waves of the throng which inundated the sanctu- * Office for Jewish affairs . eat cet IIT WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 823 ary now at last accessible, carried Resel with them. They were called upon one after another, and some had to submit to a complete interrogation as to the object and length of their sojourn. Then the severe bureaucrat more than once made objections to their being allowed to breathe the air of Vienna. Others seemed to be in great favour with the same bureaucrat, and these without the least delay received their permit of sojourn. No one, for the rest, could have complained of being ill received; the same consideration and politeness was shown to all. All were equal before the scribe, as should be the case in the eyes of the law he represents. “Where do you come from?” he asked a female cook, for the moment out of occupation, and stand- ing at the bar of the office. “From No. 108,”* she replied, lowering her eyes. The scribe burst out laughing, and could not stop himself. “T thought so,” he replied at intervals during his inextinguishable laughter, which continued until he had made out the permit of sojourn. At length Resel’s turn had come. She ap- proached the bar. The scribe scanned her pass- port. Resel trembled more than she had done be fore the burgomaster. * That is to say from the royal and imperial house for found- lings, situated in the Alserforstadt. 824 SOENES FROM THE GHETTO. “Not married?” he inquired, looking simulta- neously at the passport on which Jaekev’s legiti- mate wife was thus described, and at Resel, who turned purple at the question. The fact is that with her cap and her features which were those of a married woman, she looked very little like one living in celibacy. “No,” she replied, with hesitation. “And when did you last become single ?” cried the scribe, emphasizing the final word in particular; and he was seized with laughter still more inextinguishable than that which had taken him when dealing with the cook of No. 108. Resel, deeply annoyed, said nothing; her eyes ‘and cheeks showed that she was profoundly agi- tated. “< What have you come here to do?” the scribe went on. «To see the Emperor.” “You?” «fT obtain an audience.” The scribe questioned her no further ; he wrote: out the permit of sojourn and handed it to Resel. With a solaced heart she quitted the leaden walls of ‘the judenamt. . She was nearly three hours wandering through great streets before she succeeded in finding again the inn in the Pressgass where she was staying. By a very natural sentiment one is quite familiar WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 325 with people in the street of whom one wishes to. inquire the way. But for people who are in haste, the informa- tion desired is a veritable contribution in words, a contribution to which all do not like to submit. After many inquiries, Resel at last got into the Seitenstatt street, whence but a few steps would take her to the inn. Passing by the great build- ing of the Jewish temple, she met aman who, after long examining the traveller’s features, cried sud- denly :—“Is it not Resel Mireles, my cousin’s daughter ? ” Resel, on her side, recognised the man; it was Rebb Simche Wolf, the son of her mother’s brother, who had long resided in the great capital of the empire, in whose houses and streets he exercised the trade of hawker. “Welcome to Vienna,” exclaimed cousin Simche, joyfully, after the two relatives had verified one another’s identity; “what have you come for ? ” Resel communicated to him the object of her journey, and said that she wished to obtain an audience of the Emperor. The hawker did not appear in the least astonished at the affair. Havy- ing lived such a long while in the capital the word “Kimperor” did not strike him as at all extra; ordinary. Could he not every day, if he chose, see the Emperor walking on the Bastei or in the 326 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Prater? Then Simche asked Resel where she was lodging, and when she said she was atthe inn he insisted on her coming to stay at his house, where she would be with relations. Resel joyfully accepted this proposition. So, with his packets under his arm, and walking beside his cousin, he went out of the town; for the hawkers live outside in Ressau.* His wife and children gave their guest the most friendly re- ception, although to entertain her they were straitened in their two little rooms. To them also Resel communicated the object of her long journey to Vienna, and they on their side were not the least surprised. The student alone, who acted as preceptor to Simche’s children, in consideration of board and lodging, manifested some astonish- ment. “Have you drawn up a formal petition? ” he asked. For you must know that this was one of the specialities with which the student occupied himself. Resel replied in the affirmative, and went to look for the petition. The student took it, and began to read it in a low voice; but he had hardly perused the first few lines when he broke out into aloud laugh. Resel was terrified, and asked him if he had discovered some enormity. * A suburb of the city of Vienna, near the Danube. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 327 “Who drew up this petition? ” he asked, still laughing. “A notary of the municipal council.” “ And with this petition you were going to see the Emperor ? ” “Why not?” ** Because with this petition they will show you the door at the Emperor’s.”’ This Resel could not believe. She was con- vinced that the Emperor welcomed with kindness every petition, no matter in what form, pro- vided it set forth the required information properly. “Tt is in that respect precisely that yours is wanting. This petition is a bad, unintelligible piece of composition, drawn up certainly not by a notary, but by some court-house porter. As to the style I shall say nothing.” For the moment Rese] was full of anxiety; for what could she hope from.a worthless petition sure to be rejected? If it excited the student’s laughter, what effect would it produce on the Emperor ? Then happily it occurred to her to ask the student to read the document to her; for in her hurry to start Resel and her husband had not taken the precaution to learn its contents. Moreover, how could they have imagined that from the hands of the advocate would proceed a piece of gibberish in- stead of a petition ? 328 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. The student began with a. certain malicious joy to read it; and now is a better time for us to ascertain the contents than during the imperial audience—for the Emperor will go over it in silence. We shall here inform the reader that in spite of the student’s ironical and critical obser- vations on the basis and form of the petition, it will be permitted in its present form, and without the least alteration, to reach the Emperor in person. The petition was couched in these terms :— “Very gracious and very illustrious Emperor, your Imperial and Royal Majesty. “I, the very humble undersigned, am but a poor woman of the people, and I have nevertheless the boldness to appear before your Imperial and Royal Majesty. But what was I to do? Your Royal and Imperial Majesty is as the light of the sun which sheds everywhere its heat and its light. And why, therefore, should a poor Jewish woman despair of obtaining some of this light ? So, with- out too much reflection, I have travelled from Bohemia to Vienna, and now come to pray your Imperial and Royal Majesty, prostrating myself at his feet, to grant a ‘family right’ to Jaekev Lederer. Jaekev Lederer, Imperial and Royal Majesty, is the best man in the world, and was my betrothed when I was but twenty years old. But in spite of that Heaven overwhelmed him, ——— WITHOUT AUTHORISATION, 329 though he did not deserve it, with misfortunes ; for, I ask your Imperial Majesty, was it Jaekev Lederer’s fault that he was his father’s fourth son ? and that was why the municipal council refused him a ‘family right.” Was Jaekev Lederer, then my betrothed, never to marry me? In Austria every ploughboy and woodcutter can marry as he thinks fit, and could not poor Jaekev Lederer take a wife just because he was a Jew? But in our | synagogues we pray Almighty God to grant life and health to your Imperial and Royal Majesty, and whenever our officiating minister begins to chant the prayer, Jaekev Lederer and I rise and pray with the rest. On my knees then I suppli- cate your Royal and Imperial Majesty, my very gracious and very illustrious Emperor, that he may deign to accord a ‘family right’ to Jaekev Lederer. I ask this favour neither in his name nor iu mine, for I have lived with Jaekev Lederer more than one-and-twenty years ; but on behalf of our child, who has been inscribed at the Town Hall as illegitimate. But before Heaven, your Imperial and Royal Majesty, I swear that my child is legiti- mate, and that he has nothing to blush for in presence of the world! Very gracious ruler and Emperor, if you give Jaekev Lederer a ‘ family right,’ you will save us all, ourselves and our child. Consequently, once more prostrated at your feet, T pray your Imperial and Royal Majesty to grant 830 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. this favour to Jaekev Lederer, because he is a worthy man, and to consider the tears which I have so long been shedding. Your Imperial and Royal Majesty is so good, you come to the aid of so many people that you will interest yourself in the very humble undersigned ; for otherwise what will become of me? If there is a woman on this earth who prays Heaven earnestly to grant your Imperial and Royal Majesty long life, health, and a glorious reign, it is certainly the very humble undersigned who in the fullest respect will die “of your Imperial and Royal Majesty, “The very devoted and very obedient subject, “Reset Mireves.” If you have not yet recognised the author of this petition we are truly very sorry. It is certainly not the work of the municipal notary. “ And you are going to see the Emperor with that?” cried the student again when he had finished reading, and he began to laugh afresh. But the perusal of this same petition had on the. contrary greatly impressed Resel.) Her eyes were full of tears. Did not the petition well depict her profound grief; and what more did she need to touch the Emperor? An inner voice, the same which had counselled her to make the journey to Vienna, spoke forcibly to her and told her to be content with the petition such as it was. So when WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. Soe the student at the end of the reading allowed his impertinent observation to escape him, Resel suddenly got up and snatched the paper from his hands. “IT desire no other,” she said with joy, spring- ing from a certain pride, “the petition is good enough; it expresses my sentiments, and the Emperor will understand it.” . “ As you like,” replied the student, shrugging his shoulders; “this petition, to say the least of it, is wretched gibberish without form or style; anyhow, I would have drawn up a better one for you.” In spite of the offer now so clearly made, Resel persisted in her design; she desired nothing different to present herself to the Emperor with. The student smiled with a disdainful air, and did not cease to shrug his shoulders. Later on she was conducted to the imperial | mansion, and there, in one of the offices of the grand master of the court, a letter of audience for the next day at eight was handed to her. Resel was the eighth in order of inscription. In the evening they wanted to take her to the Leopold Theatre where at the time an amusing farce was being performed. She was assured that she would be highly diverted, but she replied after the manner of Hannah, Samuel’s mother: —“How could I go and amuse myself at. S02 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. the play when my heart is full of sadness and anguish. Moreover do I know that the Emperor will grant my request? My soul is so full of grief and terror, that I am frightened by the sound of my own words.” Nor did she con- sent to saunter about the town to look at the curiosities. “Did I come to Vienna for that?” she said. ‘ Before all I must think of my child, that is the most interesting subject for me.” At night the poor woman found it difficult to get to sleep. The audience of the morrow, the remembrance of her husband and child, the burgo- master and the advocate; all her misfortunes as also the hope of soon seeing them vanish—these things, like vague images, passed through her mind. She still had not got to sleep when her cousin’s daughters returned from the Leopold Theatre. They entered laughing and singing, and for a long time talked in bed of the jokes and the sprightliness of the whole piece. Resel half envied this lightness ; she thought how lucky the people of Vienna were to be able every day to attend the theatre. Always gay and active, they enjoyed life as few enjoy it. In the hkille* on the other hand what a life people led? A life full of cares and dis- appointment. With these thoughts she fell asleep. At two in the morning she was suddenly awakened by the sound of violent knocks at the * Community. WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 338 street door. In alarm she opened her eyes. Then she beheld in the room a strange spectacle. Her cousin Simche, half naked,’ with a light in his. hand, was running about like a perfect madman. His wife and children had similarly jumped out of bed and stood near him, their faces pale and dis- torted. The knocking at the door meanwhile, continued. ‘For heaven’s sake,” cried Resel, ‘‘ what is the matter ? Has the house caught fire?” ‘Silence, silence,’ was the whispered reply, “the police are at the door; we have no permit of sojourn.” The blows grew louder and more violent, and at intervals threatening voices were heard outside. In the room the perplexity had reached its height ; Simche, light in hand, was still running about like a madman, and Resel could quite understand the chattering of his teeth. The student seemed to have preserved most presence of mind ; he called out to Simche to do something or to open the door. The blows recommenced. Simche seemed at length to have mastered his terror. With the sheets he made a shroud, enveloped his whole body therein, and lay down in the middle of the chamber. Resel in painful expectation looked on. “Now place a light near my head,’ Simche ordered, “and open the door. Tell the police I am dead ! ” 334 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. Rc EE Nar RY ES ae ON EE It was in truth a lugubrious sight; the student ‘took the light and put it near the head of the feigned corpse. Simche’s daughter covered his face with the shroud; his wife had gone to open the door to the police. A couple of policemen ac- companied by some soldiers at once entered. The prostrate corpse first met their sight. The place did indeed seem to be a chamber of the dead. On every side could be seen pale and distorted faces, which indicated to the police conclusively enough the grief felt for a loved one just lost. “When did he die?” asked one of the two policemen, approaching the body. “An hour ago,” replied the woman, trembling with fear. The policeman lifted up the sheet from the face of the corpse, but at once let it fall. “ He is dead,” hesaid, addressing his companion; “‘we have nothing more to do here.” Thereupon they went away without inquiring about the permit of sojourn. The footsteps of the policemen who had only just quitted the house could still be heard in the solitary street, when at one bound Simche jumped up and threw off the winding sheet. “Well,” he cried, “ have I not well counter- feited a dead man? [I lay still asa log. They are very acute.” And as though he had truly escaped from the WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 335 bonds of death all the others surrounded him, full of joy, and began to laugh and joke about the danger which just before had put them beside themselves. The light was then extinguished, every one got in bed again and a quarter of an hour afterwards tranquillity once more reigned in the rooms. No one would have imagined that a few minutes ago all had run such terrible danger.* But Resel lay shuddering feverishly and could not close her eyes during the rest of the night. She watered her bed with tears. All this in truth presaged no good forthe morrow. How, in a city where her cousin was forced to assume death in order to escape the police, could she hope to obtain a “family right” and the legitimatization of her child? From this moment she ceased to envy her cousin’s daughters; did they not, by all these terrors and miseries, sufficiently expiate the plea- sure of being able to attend the Leopold Theatre every day, and laugh at its drolleries ? The Emperor had read the petition—he had smiled. Resel near the door of the audience * Only tolerated Jews, those that is to say who are accepted with the consent of the authorities, can [Anno 1848] sojourn at Vienna free from all troubles and importunities. The rest have to procure permits of sojourn ; from this regulation poor hawkers— installed at Vienna in many cases from their infancy, and who wish to save the time which would be lost in applying for a permit at the judenamt (Jewish office)—have a particular faculty for escaping. ‘The police—what does the police not know P—is well aware of this. Hence their nocturnal raids. Those who allow themselves thus to be surprised without a permit, are ex- pelled by the gendarmerie. Infandum renovare dolorem. 536 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. chamber had fallen on her knees; she was losing her senses. Then the benevolent sovereign ap- proached her and in a voice which had the effect of a river of gold flowing upon her, said—* Rise my child; we kneel before God alone.” But Resel did not rise; from the depth of her soul she re- plied to the Emperor. “ Pardon, pardon, your majesty! grant a ‘family right’ to Jaekey ! ” Then the Emperor— “Ts it true,” he asked, “that you have lived with him twenty-one years ? ”’ “Tt will soon be twenty-two,” she replied; “ moreover, I have a child.”’ The Emperor approached the table whereon lay the petition; upon the back of it he wrote a few words. “ And now my child, you can go,” he said with a gentleness full of humanity; “ Jaekev shall have a ‘family right’—you may rely upon it. Everything will now change to your advantage.” Resel took her departure. If at this moment her soul had quitted its terrestrial frame its first thought on passing through the radiant portal of eternity would have been to pray for the Emperor. A month had elapsed. Resel had long since re- turned. For the hundredth time she had answered the various questions put to her by the curious about her audience, when Jaekev received a new notification from the burgomaster directing him WItHOUT AUTHORISATION. to attend the Town Hall. On this occasion he as- cended, with his heart full of a joyful presenti- ment, the narrow staircase leading to office No. 3. But picture his happiness when, in the most amic- ble terms, the burgomaster informed him that he “1 received superior orders to give Jaekev Lederer st “ family right ” which became vacant ; and hat moment there was one to be had he had ) apply for it—no one else would get it. ortnight later Jaekev was a familiant. Then the strange question arose in the minds of the married couple whether they ought not to celebrate teir nuptials afresh. Jaekev was little disposed to do so, “for,” he said, “Iam a familiant now, and what else do I care for?” But Resel replied— “No, Jaekev, that is not what I think. I went to Vienna to procure a family right, and so [ am entitled to marry ina becoming way. Let us then send in a request for a reschajin.* The whole ghetto approved this resolution. Once more was made up the big packet of testi- \ monials, attestations, and certificates which we ave mentioned before. The Emperor in his kind- had given Jaekev a family right, but a reschajin » wanting. The affair would take the * Authorisation. 338 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. ordinary course. It was pleasant to see the old pair being examined in the “ Children of Zion ’’—more pleasant still the incident to which this gave rise. “Tell me,” said ihe Chief of the Community, who examined them, “tell me the duties of a mother towards her children.” Resel reflected a long time; then, her whole — face beaming, she replied— “To love them, sir.” The Chief of the Community looked at the Rabbi, and the Rabbi atthe commissary. Both were smiling at the woman’s simplicity. * And you,” Jaekev was asked, “tell me what the tenth commandment says?’ ” For the moment Jaekev could not recollect it. Then the chief Rabbi, to assist his memory, him- self began to repeat the commandment. “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife ”— “A strange question that, my dear Rabbi,” said Jaekev, with a smile; “should I so long have waited for my Resel if I had eyes for another man’s wife? God did not make that command- ment for me.” The Chief of the Community laughingly liberated the old couple of lovers and attested the fact that they had well passed the “ Children of Zion.” This at bottom no one doubted, for Jaekev and Resel quite understood its moral teaching. This time the reschojin did not hold them in WITHOUT AUTHORISATION. 3389 suspense fourteen years. They had but fourteen weeks to wait for it. Herein was a notable difference. The marriage day was fixed. The benediction under the nuptial dais was not now given by a poor Rabbi in a village, but by the chief Rabbi, and, according to custom, in the open air. Resel wore a silk dress, and this time only tears of joy were shed beneath hergold-embroidered cap. Jaekev was so pleased with her that he said— “You look, to-day, like a young woman of twenty.” The noisiest gaiety went on throughout the nuptial repast. Every one in the ghetto had made presents to the married couple. The rich Schmull Brandeis moreover had deigned to offer the young couple four silver candlesticks. Towards evering when the joy was at its height Salme Floh, who figured among the guests, sud- denly jumped up at table and demanded silence. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he cried, “I am going to ask you a riddle. Who among us came too early for the wedding?” ‘“¢ Jaekev and Resel,” was the reply from all sides. ‘‘ Not at all, not at all,” cried the proposer of the enigma; “it was little Benjamin Jaekev; he came eight years too early.” And at this even Resel, who did not as a rule 34.0 SCENES FROM THE GHETTO. like jokes on this subject, laughed and shook with the rest. The advocate, Rebb Lippmann Goldberg, sprang up in his turn. . “All of you see,” he cried, “little Benjamin Jaekev tranquilly seated at the nuptial repast eating ‘a tart. Now to whom do you think he owes that ? ” ““Resele, Resele,” they exclaimed on all sides; “didn’t she visit the Emperor ? ” “Not at all, not at all,” he cried in his turn; “he owes it to me; for I wrote the petition to the Emperor.” These words caused general astonishment. Then Lippmann explained how instead of going to the notary he had himself drawn up the petition in order that the Emperor might see his handwriting. Thereupon loud laughter from the married pair, and universal uproar. But, Mr. Advocate, did we not know all this at Vienna ? THE END. Printed by Remineron & Co., 134, New Bond Street, W. ¢ ili Abe ahem = Dalat, Selatan lia lacs me SRST SSES Sipbedis oT He 2-08