RABBI AND PRIEST MEET.
The enemies of the Jews persisted in their attacks. Ignorant greed,
commercial rivalry, religious intolerance, all played their part in
shaping coming events. The mobs soon had ringleaders; unscrupulous
agitators who counted on the gain they could derive from a general
pillage of the property of the wealthy Israelites.
The greatest terror reigned in Kief. But for the example of a few
energetic men, prominent among whom was Rabbi Winenki, the Hebrew
population would have been in despair.
Thousands of Jews, driven out of Elizabethgrad by the atrocities
committed at that place, fled to Kief and implored shelter of their
hospitable co-religionists. They were for the greater part destitute of
the commonest necessities of life. Their appeal was not in vain. The
charitable Jews opened their houses, and there was scarcely a home that
did not entertain one or more refugees.
Rabbi Winenki hastily called a conference of his friends to devise means
of assisting these unfortunates to emigrate. The project met with
immediate approval, and an association was formed to aid all those who
desired to find a home in distant America.
General Drentell heard of this benevolent undertaking, and while he was
not unwilling to drive the Jews out of the Empire, he deemed it the duty
of the Israelites to consult with him before engaging in any project
which would deprive the Czar of his subjects. He therefore sent a
communication to the Rabbi, stating that he had no objection to such a
committee as had been formed, provided it was created under the auspices
of the Government. It was customary, he said, for the ruling family to
be identified with all movements of this sort, and as an evidence of
good-will towards the Jews, his wife, Countess Louise, desired to be
elected Honorary President of the newly-organized society.
The Israelites received this communication with undisguised contempt.
The Rabbi denounced the inconsistency of the Governor, who had hitherto
never denied his animosity towards the Jews, but who now desired to pose
as their benefactor. A resolution was adopted declining to honor the
Countess Drentell with the office she coveted.
The Governor seized upon this as a pretext for the wickedest measures
against the unfortunate people. The following day, placards were issued
from a secret printing-press in Kief, and distributed throughout the
town and surrounding country, declaring that the Czar had confiscated
the property of the Jews and had presented it to his loyal subjects.
Wherever the commiserating face of a Madonna gazed down from her icon,
there hung one of these placards, which was destined to let loose the
worst passions of which man is capable. As if this were not potent
enough, Mikail the priest travelled in person through the province,
denouncing the Jews, and exhorting the orthodox Russians to wreak
vengeance upon them for real or fictitious crimes.
On came the flood which, once started, threatened to engulf the entire
Jewish population of Russia.
On May 6th, the mob attacked the Hebrew quarter at Smielo, and thirteen
men were killed, twenty wounded and sixteen hundred left without homes.
It was authoritatively announced that a riot would begin in Kief on
Sunday, the eighth of May. On weekdays the _moujiks_ were for the
greater part in the fields hard at work, while on Sunday they were free
to take part in the plunder and destruction.
The seventh was a sad day for our friends. It was the Sabbath, the last
that many of them would live to celebrate. The synagogues were filled to
overflowing with weeping women and terror-stricken men. There was no
hope, no consolation anywhere. Sadly and sorrowfully the services
proceeded, each worshipper praying as though his end were close at hand.
Not even the inspiring words of Rabbi Winenki could cheer them. In vain
he recalled the many miraculous deliverances of their forefathers, and
exhorted his hearers to place their faith in Jehovah. His sermon but
increased the gloom which hung over the congregation.
During the afternoon a delegation, headed by Mendel, proceeded to the
Governor's palace and begged for an interview. They were admitted into
the cabinet, where Governor Drentell, his wife and the Catholic priest
Mikail awaited them. Mikail was sitting at a table, writing.
"You wish to see me," said the Governor, curtly. "What is it you want?"
"Your excellency," began Mendel, with some hesitation, "we need scarcely
remind you of the fact that we have always been loyal subjects; that we
have never knowingly committed a wrong against the State, and that we
have through our thrift and industry sought to add to the wealth of the
country. We are now threatened with a serious calamity, one which will
rob us of our hard-earned possessions and may possibly deprive us of our
lives. Your excellency will surely not permit this outrage to be visited
upon us. It lies in your power to prevent it and we beseech you, in the
name of twenty thousand of the Czar's faithful subjects, who are now
crowded in Kief, to vouchsafe us your gracious protection."
The Governor listened impatiently. When Mendel had finished speaking, he
said:
"I do not see how I can help you. The Czar himself has declared your
property forfeited, and I am afraid the people will insist upon their
rights."
"But the pretended _ukase_ confiscating our property is false!" cried
Mendel, with great indignation. "Your excellency knows it is but an
invention of a body of men who wish to enrich themselves at the cost of
our people. Your excellency surely cannot allow such outrages to be
perpetrated!"
"Moderate your language, man," cried the Governor, angrily, rising from
his chair, "or you will find yourself outside the palace doors."
"I beg your excellency's pardon," answered Mendel, meekly, "if grief has
made me disrespectful. In the name of my co-religionists, I desire to
offer a proposition. If our property falls to the Czar's subjects, it is
certainly better to preserve it intact than to expose it to the savage
attacks of the rioters. If your excellency permits, we will bring you
the keys of our houses and submit to any measures you may see fit to
take. If the _ukase_ is true, the property will revert to the State
uninjured; if it is not true, your excellency will have the humanity to
restore us to our rights."
The Governor, surprised at this unexpected and unique proposition, found
himself without a reply. He glanced significantly at the priest.
"What do you say, Mikail?" he asked.
Mikail, who had been apparently absorbed in writing, but who had not
lost a word of the discussion, now arose, and in his deep, sonorous
voice, answered:
"The _ukase_ is true, your excellency, and we have no right to render it
nugatory. For twenty years the Jews have enjoyed equal rights with the
Christians, and every endeavor has been made to assimilate them with the
other inhabitants. In vain. The Jews constantly abused their new
liberties, and by their acts brought upon themselves the ill-will of the
entire nation. They form a state within the State, governing themselves
by their own code of laws, which are often antagonistic to those of the
land. I need not recapitulate the acts of cruelty they have perpetrated
upon defenceless Christians, the wiles they have employed to defraud
their creditors, or the usury for which they are notorious. I need not
allude to the fact that they have driven the Catholic Russians from
profitable fields of labor, and have appropriated to themselves every
branch of trade. These acts and many others have now called forth the
protests of the people, and the result is violence and robbery. It would
be useless to control the mob, your excellency, for the wrongs under
which they smart have driven them to desperation."
While Mikail was speaking, Mendel gazed at him as though fascinated. He
could not take his eyes from the handsome features and commanding form
of the monk. He must have seen him before, he thought--but where?
Suddenly the priest's resemblance to his own father struck him as
remarkable.
Ordinarily, the priest's unjust accusations would have called forth a
vigorous protest from the Rabbi, but now he suddenly found himself
bereft of reasoning power; he could but look upon his adversary in awe
and wonder. The priest turned, and by the movement exposed his mutilated
ear. The lobe had been torn completely off. Where could he have seen
that ear before? Mendel stared as though in a dream. He struggled with
his memory, but it failed him; all appeared a perfect blank. Then the
priest, in the course of his denunciations, became more vehement than
before, and made a movement with his left hand. The arm was stiff at the
elbow, and the gesture appeared unnatural and restrained. Still Mendel
looked and tried to reflect. That arm awoke a strange train of thoughts.
His mind appeared sluggish to-day; he could remember nothing.
Suddenly the Rabbi uttered a piercing cry. Yes, it all came back to him
now.
"Jacob!" he cried, advancing towards the priest. "My brother Jacob
arrayed against his own people!"
The monk recoiled a step and looked at the Jew in surprise.
"Is the man mad?" he asked, addressing the Governor.
"No; I am not mad," cried Mendel, excitedly. "As true as there is a God
above us, you are my brother Jacob!"
The priest, fully believing that the Rabbi had suddenly become insane,
recoiled a step and drew his garments about him. The Governor glanced
significantly at his wife, who had become as pale as death.
The Rabbi was unable to control his excitement.
"Jacob, my brother," he cried again; "do you not remember me, Mendel? Do
you not remember our home in Togarog? Do you not recollect how we were
both stolen away from home on the night of my _bar-mitzvah_; how we were
taken to Kharkov by the soldiers, and how we escaped and fled into the
country? Do you not remember how we travelled along, weary and
foot-sore, until you could no longer walk, and I ran to a neighboring
village for assistance? When I returned, you had disappeared. Jacob, do
you remember nothing?"
Mikail stood with his head buried in his hands, drinking in every word
of the gesticulating Rabbi.
Yes; he did remember something; indistinctly, of course, but as each
event was recalled it evoked a corresponding picture in his brain. Many
things suddenly became clear which had been hitherto shrouded in
mystery. The secret of his birth, concerning which he had so often
questioned Countess Drentell without receiving a satisfactory reply, the
indistinct recollection of strange events, and, finally, the familiarity
of the ritual in the synagogue. When Mendel had ceased speaking, he
turned abruptly to the Countess, who, pale and agitated, was standing by
the side of her husband. Surprise, anger, passion were portrayed in the
priest's flashing eye and contracted features, and Louise shrank from
him as he approached her.
"Madam," he said, hoarsely, "what can I say in reply to this charge? You
have been my protectress from childhood. Tell this man that he lies,
that I am not the brother of a Jew."
The Countess' lips parted, but neither she nor the Count found a reply.
"See, their silence speaks for me!" cried Mendel, almost joyfully.
"Jacob, it is true! I could not be mistaken. Your image has never left
me since we parted on the highway, and I recognized you at once by your
resemblance to our father, and by your torn ear and crippled arm."
"Marks which I received at the hands of the accursed Jews," cried the
priest, fiercely.
"Not so, Jacob! Whoever told you that did not tell the truth. It was not
the Jews, but a Christian, who tortured you because you were a Jew."
Again Mikail confronted the Countess.
"Madam, I demand to know whether this man speaks the truth or not?" he
exclaimed, wildly.
"He does, Mikail," replied Louise, nervously. "For the sake of your own
happiness, we endeavored to keep you in ignorance of the facts. You were
a Jew when we found you insensible on the road near Poltava. I took you
to my home, and to save you from the misery and degradation of being a
Jew, and also to bring a new soul into our holy church, I had you
brought up in a convent as a Catholic priest."
"And these injuries," asked Mikail, pale and trembling, "the marks of
which I shall carry to the grave, were they not the work of the Jews?"
"Of that I know nothing," answered the Countess, carelessly. "This man,"
pointing to Mendel; "can tell you more about that than I."
The face of the priest became livid. "I am a Jew," he cried; "I, a Jew!
Oh God," he moaned, convulsively, "why did you send me this agony? My
life has been one living falsehood, my whole existence a lie. My tongue
has been taught to execrate my religion, my mind to plan the destruction
of my father's people. Ha! ha! ha! you are right; the Jews are an
accursed race, and I am accursed with them!" The priest broke into a
wild laugh which sent a chill through the blood of his hearers.
Mendel endeavored to speak to him, to grasp his hand; but Mikail looked
at him with a meaningless stare, and turning, without another word, he
fled like a maniac from the apartment.
General Drentell turned furiously upon the Israelites.
"Go!" he cried; "leave the palace! You have done mischief enough!"
Mendel's strong form shook with emotion; he was weeping. He collected
himself for a final appeal.
"If your excellency would send us a regiment of soldiers," he said,
preparing to leave; "our lives and our property might still be saved."
"What care I for your property or your wretched lives?" shouted the
Governor, in a frenzy. "I shall not trouble my soldiers for a pack of
miserable Jews."[21]
The Rabbi and his fellows found themselves outside of the palace walls,
sad and disheartened.
"Friends," he said, in a broken voice, "you have been witnesses of this
terrible scene. Oh, God! to think that my brother, whom we mourned as
dead, should have become a Catholic priest and be plotting the
destruction of his people." Here Mendel's grief overcame him and he
remained silent for some moments. Recovering his composure with an
effort, he continued, in a subdued voice: "I have a favor to ask of you,
my friends. Speak to no one of this unfortunate meeting. If the news
came to my father's ears it would kill him."
The men promised and the little band walked silently back to their
homes.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 20: In the description of the outrages and acts of lawlessness
in this and succeeding chapters, the author has not drawn upon his
imagination, but has followed as closely as possible the narration of
the Russian refugees on their arrival in America, and the graphic
account sent by a special correspondent to the _London Times_, and
republished in pamphlet form in this country in 1883.]
[Footnote 21: Historical.]