other little by little: Daniel, forgetful, cheerfully disposed, a
nobleman not altogether free from arrogance, amiably deceived by his
Christian spouse, but with or without this assistance becoming the
founder of a great family; Nathan, morose, restless, smoulderingly
envious of a happiness paid too high for, in his opinion. When a
question of interest brought them together for a day, Nathan always
ended by returning to his theme:
"Our father said: 'I shall turn in my grave!'"
Whereupon Daniel, finding nothing to reply, cut short the interview.
Then, suddenly, Nathan dropped sadness for mirth, severity for
indulgence, stopped sermonizing and smiled instead at other people's
faults. The change struck Daniel the more from twice meeting his brother
without a word being spoken about their father and his terrible threat.
Finally he found the key to the mystery: Nathan had in his turn received
baptism and was about to become the happy bridegroom of a widow without
fortune whom an act of the royal sovereign authorized to bestow upon her
consort a feudal title threatened with falling to female succession. In
gratitude, Nathan had promised that Daniel and he would "supervise" a
future loan.
"So!" cried Daniel in anger, when he heard the great news. "You are
becoming a Christian, too, after viciously tormenting me on every
occasion, and reminding me of our father who on my account had 'turned
in his grave.' And I was filled with remorse. Yes, I may have seemed
happy, but my sleep was troubled. I did not know what to do. There were
times when I even contemplated returning to the synagogue. Well, then,
if what you tell me is true, if our father actually has turned in his
grave, you will admit that you are now to blame as well as I. Come,
speak, what have you to say?"
"I say," replied Nathan, undisturbed, "that I have shown myself in this
the more devoted son of the two. I take back nothing of what I said. It
is you assuredly who caused Gideon, son of Manasseh, to turn in his
grave. About that there is no doubt whatever. But thanks to the act to
which I have resigned myself, he has undoubtedly turned back again,
according to his solemn promise, and there he lies henceforth just as we
buried him, and as he must remain forever. I have retrieved your fault.
Our father forgives you. I accept your thanks."
VI
SIMON, SON OF SIMON
Simon, son of Simon, was nearing the end of his career without having
tasted the fruits of his untiring effort to acquire the riches which may
be said to represent happiness. Whether we be the sons of Shem or of
Japheth, each of us strives for the representative symbol of the
satisfaction of his particular cravings. Not that Simon, son of Simon,
of the tribe of Judah, had ever given much thought to the joys that were
to come from his possession of treasure. No, the question of the
possible use to be made of a pile of money had never occupied his active
but simple mind. The satisfaction of money-lust having been his single
aim, he had never looked forward to any enjoyment other than that of
successful money getting. Fine raiment appealed to him not at all. The
safest thing, after snaring wealth on the wing, is to conceal it under
poverty, lest we lead into temptation the wicked, ever ready to
appropriate the goods of their neighbours. Jewels, rare gems, precious
vessels, delicate porcelain, rugs, tapestries, luxurious dwellings,
horses, none of these awakened his desire. He cared nothing for them,
and had no understanding of the vain-glorious joys to be derived from
their possession. Neither did he yearn for fair persons--sometimes
containing a soul--obtainable at a price for ineffable delight. Simon,
son of Simon, had a very vague notion of the esthetic superiority of one
daughter of Eve above another, and would not have given a farthing for
the difference between any two of them.
His ingenuous desire was concerned solely with coined metal. Gold,
silver, bronze, cut into disks and stamped with an effigy, seemed to
him, as in fact they are, the greatest marvel of the world. The thought
of collecting them, carefully counted in bags--making high brown, white,
or yellow piles of them in coffers with intricate locks--filled him with
superhuman joy. And so great is the miracle of metal, even when absent
and represented only by a sheet of paper supplied with the necessary
formulæ and bearing imposing signatures along with the stamp of Cæsar,
that the delight of it in that form was no less. Some, with a cultivated
taste in such matters, tell us indeed that the delight is enhanced by
the thought of safeguarding from the world's cupidity so great a
treasure in a bulk so small.
All of this, however, Simon, son of Simon, had tasted only in dream
visions, finding it infinitely delectable even so. How would he have
felt, had reality kept pace with the flight of a delirious imagination?
But such happiness seemed not to be the portion of the miserable Jew,
who had so far vainly exerted himself to win gold. Gold for the sake of
gold, not for the vain pleasures, the empty shells, for which fools give
it in exchange. Gold was beautiful, gold was mighty, gold was sovereign
of the world. If Simon, son of Simon, had attempted to picture Jehovah,
he would have conceived of him as gold stretching out to infinity,
filling all space! Meanwhile, he trailed shocking old slippers through
the mud of his Galician village, and arrayed himself in a greasy, ragged
garment on which the far-spaced clean places stood out like spots. He
was a poor man, you would have thought him an afflicted one, but the
golden rays of an indefatigable hope lighted his life.
He walked by the guidance of a star, the golden star of a dream which
would end only with the dreamer. He was always busy. Always on the eve
of some lucky stroke. Never on the day after it. The things he had
attempted, the combinations he had constructed, the traps he had set for
human folly, would worthily fill a volume. It seemed as if his genius
lacked nothing necessary for success. Yet he always failed, and had
acquired a reputation for bad luck. He had travelled much; taken part in
large enterprises, to which he contributed ideas that proved profitable
to someone else. He could buy and sell on the largest or the smallest
scale. He dealt in every ware that is sold in the open market as well
as every one that is bargained for in secret, from honours--and
honour--to living flesh, from glory to love. And now, here he was,
stripped of illusions--I mean illusions on the subject of his
fellowman--dreaming for the thousandth time of holding a winning hand in
the game.
The sole confidant of his dreams was his son Ochosias, a youth of great
promise, initiated by him into all the mysteries of commerce. Ochosias
profited by his lessons and was not lacking in gifts, but never rose to
his father's sublime heights. He had a preference for the money trade.
"Money," said he, "is the finest merchandise of all. Purchase, sale,
loan, are all profitable for one knowing how to handle it. If you will
give your consent, father, I will establish myself as a banker--by the
week."
"You are crazy," answered Simon, son of Simon. "The money trade
certainly has advantages perceptible even to the dullest wit. But in
order to deal with capital, capital you must have, or else find some
innocent Gentile to lend it you at an easy rate. Before doing this,
however, he will ask for securities. Where are your securities?"
And as the other shrugged his shoulders--
"Listen," continued the man of experience, "the time has come to submit
to you a plan that has been haunting me and from which I expect a rare
profit."
"Speak, speak, father," cried Ochosias, eagerly, with such a racial
quiver at the words "rare profit" as a war-horse's at a bugle call.
"Listen," said Simon with deliberation, "I have long revolved in my mind
the history of my life. I can say without vanity that nowhere is Simon,
son of Simon, surpassed in business ability. Should you, Ochosias, live
to be the age of the patriarchs, you might meet with one more fortunate
than your father, but one more expert in trade--never. And yet I have
not been successful ... at least, not up to the present time. For the
future is in the hands of Jehovah alone by whom all things are decided."
The two men bowed devoutly in token of submission to the Lord.
"What, then, has been wanting?" continued Simon, son of Simon, following
up his thought. "Nothing within myself, I say it without any uncertainty
as to my pride being justifiable. Nothing within myself, everything
outside of myself. It is no secret. Everyone proclaims it aloud. Ask
anybody you please. Everyone will tell you: 'Simon, son of Simon, is no
ordinary Jew.' Some will even add: 'He is the greatest Jew of his time.'
I do not go as far as that. We must always leave room for another. But
you will find opinion unanimous in respect to one curious statement:
'Simon, son of Simon, has no luck. All that he has lacked is luck,'
There you have the simple truth. There is nothing further to say."
"Well----?" inquired Ochosias, breathlessly, scenting something new in
the air.
"Well, one must have luck, that is the secret, and, I tell you plainly,
I mean to have it."
"How?"
"It is within reach of all, my child. You cannot fail to see it. A state
institution, through the care of the Emperor Francis Joseph, Christian
of Christ, distributes good luck impartially to every subject of the
Empire, whether Christian, Jew, or Mahomedan."
"The lottery?" asked Ochosias, and pouted his lips disdainfully.
"The lottery, you have said it, the lottery which graciously offers us
every day a chance of which we neglect to avail ourselves."
"Unless, of course," mused the youth, with a brightening countenance,
"you know of some way to draw the winning number----"
"Good. I was sure that blood would presently speak. You are not far from
guessing right."
"But, come now. Seriously. You know of some such means?"
"Perhaps. Tell me, who is the master of luck?"
"Jehovah. You yourself just said so."
"Yes, Jehovah, or some god of the outsiders, if any there be mightier
than Jehovah, which I cannot believe."
"Other gods may be mighty, like Baal, or like Mammon, who ought by no
means to be despised. But Jehovah is the greatest of all. He said: 'I am
the Eternal.' And He is."
"Doubtless. There are, however, more mysteries in this world than we can
grasp, and Jehovah permits strange usurpations by other Celestial
Powers."
"It is for the purpose of trying us."
"I believe it to be so. But I have no more time to waste in mistakes.
And so I have said to myself: 'Adonai, the Master, holds luck in his
hands. According to my belief, that master is Jehovah. He just might,
however, be Christ, or Allah, or another. I shall, if necessary, exhaust
the dictionary of the Gods of mankind, which is, I am told, a bulky
volume. Whoever is the mightiest God, him must we tempt, seduce, or, to
speak plainly, buy.' That is what I have resolved to do. I shall
naturally begin the experiment with Jehovah, the God of Abraham and of
Solomon, whom I worship above all others. To-morrow is the Sabbath.
To-day I will go and purchase a ticket for the imperial lottery, the
grand prize of which is five hundred thousand florins, and to-morrow,
bowed beneath the veil, in the temple of the Lord, I shall promise to
give him, if I win----"
"Ten thousand florins!" Ochosias bravely proposed.
"Ten thousand grains of sand!" cried Simon, son of Simon. "Would you be
stingy toward your Creator? Ten thousand florins! Do you think that in
the world we live in one can subsidize a Divinity, a first-class one,
for that price? Triple donkey! Know that I shall offer Jehovah one
hundred thousand florins! One hundred thousand florins! What do you
think of it? That is how one behaves when he is moved by religious
sentiments."
The amazed Ochosias was silent. After a pause, however, he murmured:
"You are right, father, in these days one cannot get a God, a real one,
under that figure. But a hundred thousand florins! You must own that it
is frightful to hand over such a pile of money even to Jehovah."
"Ochosias, in business one must know how to be lavish. With your ten
thousand florins I should never win the grand prize. Whilst with my
hundred thousand----We shall see."
And Simon, son of Simon, did as he had said. He bought his lottery
ticket, he took a solemn oath before the Thorah to devote, should he
win, a hundred thousand florins to Jehovah, and then he waited quietly
for three months, to learn that his was not the winning number.
Ochosias and Simon, son of Simon, thereupon deliberated. To which God
should they next turn their attention? For some reason Jehovah had lost
power. Was it possible that the centuries had strengthened some other
God against him? Strange things happen. Still, Ochosias ventured the
suggestion that Jehovah with the best will in the world might have been
bound by some previous engagement.
"Any other Jew to have promised a hundred thousand florins to the
Eternal?" uttered Simon, son of Simon, sententiously. "No! I am the only
one capable of a stroke of business such as that!"
But upon the insistence of Ochosias, whose faith in Jehovah remained
unshaken, he was willing to try again. This time he waited six
months ... with the same result.
It then became necessary to make a decision, and the two men agreed that
after Jehovah the honour of the next trial was due to his son Jesus, a
Jew, offspring of the Jew Joseph and the Jewess Mary. So Simon, son of
Simon, bought another lottery ticket and hastened to the church of
Christ where, having been properly sprinkled with holy water, he knelt
according to the custom of the place, and pledged himself solemnly, in
case he won the grand prize, to present the Crucified with a hundred
thousand florins. Having given his word, Simon, son of Simon, looked all
around him in the hope of some sign, but seeing nothing that could
concern him he retired, not without repeating his promise and gratifying
the Deity with a few supplementary genuflexions.
Time passed. Simon, son of Simon, and Ochosias went about their ordinary
occupations, taking great care to utter no word that could give offence
to the Power whose favour they were seeking. Jehovah remained during
this long period exiled, as it were, from their thoughts. What if the
Other should be jealous?
And then, of a sudden, the miracle! Simon, son of Simon, won the grand
prize. At first he doubted, fearing some trick of the invisible powers.
But in the end he was obliged to accept the evidence. The Most Catholic
bank paid the money, and soon the five hundred thousand florins were
safely bestowed.
After a few twitches of nervous trembling, Simon, son of Simon, regained
command over himself. But he was visibly sunk in deep thought. Vainly
the agitated Ochosias plied him with questions. Such answers as he
obtained were vague and unsatisfactory. "Oh," and "Ah," and "Perhaps,"
and "We shall see," which in no wise revealed what lay in the other's
mind. Finally, Ochosias could no longer restrain himself. He must know
what was going on in his father's soul, for his own was torn by a
dreadful doubt. The genius of Simon, son of Simon, was marvellous, it
had opened the way for him to recalcitrant fortune, and in the natural
course of things he, Ochosias, would presently through death's agency be
placed in possession of the treasure. But here was a difficulty. Could
one grant that Jehovah had no power left and that Christ was
all-powerful? Ochosias shuddered at the thought, for, after all, if
Christ had greater power than the One who was formerly all-powerful, if
supreme power had devolved upon Christ, then to Christ must one bow.
Conversion would be inevitable. To leave the temple of Jehovah for the
altars of his enemy and pay, into the bargain, an enormous fee?
Horrible!
In hesitating and fragmentary talk Ochosias made the sorrowful avowal of
his anguish.
"Must we believe that Jesus is mightier than Jehovah? What consequences
would such a belief involve! Is it possible that the religion of Jesus
is the true one? No, no, it cannot be! What are your thoughts on the
subject, father?"
"Man of little faith, who hast doubted," spoke Simon, son of Simon,
softly, with a flash as of lightning in his eye. "Let me reassure thee
who have not doubted. Clearly I perceive the true significance of
events. Jehovah is not one whom we can deceive, even unintentionally. To
Him all things are known. He foresees all, and works accordingly. The
proof that He is mightier than Jesus is that He perfectly understood on
both occasions that I should never be able to part with the hundred
thousand florins I so rashly promised. He knows our hearts. He does not
expect the impossible. The Other was taken in by my good faith, which
deceived even myself. Jehovah alone is great, my son."
"Jehovah alone is great," repeated Ochosias, his soul divinely eased by
the lifting off it of a great weight.
And both men, with foreheads bowed before the Almighty, worshipped.
VII
AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS
Buried in silence, the city slept under the friendly moon. With the
setting of the sun, activities had slowed, then halted in temporary
death, and over the noisy pavements had fallen the peace of the grave.
Divine sleep by oblivion shielded the children of men from evil and by
dreams comforted them with hope. Some of the windows, however, were kept
alight by love, or suffering, or labour. The hushed street, touched with
bluish light, emerged from shadow here and there, and as abruptly
dropped into it again. Where three converging roads ended in a public
square, the water of fountains murmured around the great stone base of a
bloodstained crucifix.
The street of the people, "_everybody's street_," as it was also called,
was recognizable by its neglect of the customary city ordinances. A
narrow track of aggressive cobblestones, amid which the sewage trailed
its odours, wound between high, mouldy walls, and led from their dens to
the foot of the Divine Image the sad, long procession of those who are
not of the elect. The citizen's road, "_the middle road_," as some
called it, offered greater convenience to its travellers. Wide, airy,
drained according to the latest hygienic system, salubriously paved with
wood, bordered by sumptuous shops where all the pleasant things of life
were on sale, this road invited idleness to leisurely promenades,
invariably ending, however, at the foot of the cross. For greater
certainty, a moving platform took people thither, saving them the
trouble of exerting themselves. As to the way of the elect, likewise
called "_the way of the few_," it stretched along triumphantly,
indescribable in splendour, amid monuments of art, statues, marvellous
trees, blossoming bowers, fragrant lawns, singing birds, all that the
utmost refinement of luxury could devise for human felicity. There were
even, at stated hours, fair traffickers in delight, artfully adorned,
who moved about in accordance with a prescribed order, selling heaven on
earth to whomsoever had the price to pay. In commodious coaches drawn by
six gold-caparisoned horses these repaired like the rest to the
cross-roads where in His patient anguish the God awaited them.
Motionless, from the height of His gibbet, He gazed down upon it all
with ineffable sadness, as if He said: "Is this what I laboured for?"
And now, on the three avenues which even during the hours of sleep
preserve their characteristics, shadows are seen moving. Their outlines
increase in distinctness, and one after the other three human figures
issue from the three roads into the flickering lamplight of the square.
The man from "_the low road_," hugging the wall, advances timidly, with
hesitating step, yet like one driven by a higher power. A stranger to
fear, the man of "_the middle road_" advances with tranquil eye,
securely bold, knowing that others have care for his safety. _Incessu
patuit Homo._ The man from "_the road of the few_" treads the earth as
if he owned it, and seems to call the stars to witness that he is the
supreme justification of the universe. Each with his different gait,
they proceed toward their goal, which fate has made identical. At the
foot of the cross, whose massive base had until that moment concealed
them from one another, they suddenly come face to face, under the gaze
of Him whom their ancestors nailed to the ignominious tree.
Three simultaneous cries cross in the air.
"Ephraim!"
"Samuel!"
"Mordecai!"
"What are you doing here?"
"And you?"
"And you?"
Silence falls, as each waits for an answer.
"Three Jews at the foot of the cross!" said Ephraim _of the low road_.
"Three renegade Jews," said Mordecai _of the tribe of the few_, below
breath. "For we are Christians."
"Renegade is not the word, brother," objected Samuel _of the middle
class_, softly. "Apostasy is the name for those who go over to the
beliefs of the minority. The others are converts."
"Admirably expressed, Samuel," said Ephraim. "You are a wise man. Why
should I take the trouble to lie to you? I have come here alone, by
night, because having changed Lord, I need compensating gifts, and--God,
though He has become Jesus, son of Joseph, cannot hear me when His crowd
of courtiers is besieging Him with clamorous petitions. Therefore I come
sometimes to speak to Him as man to God. And who knows? Perhaps if I
help myself sufficiently my words will be heard."
"I will not deny," said Samuel, "that I am here with the same object."
"My case differs in nothing from yours," Mordecai readily owned.
"You, then, are a believer?" asked Ephraim, as if really curious, and at
the same time anxious to avoid facing the same question.
"I must be ... since I am converted," answered each of the others.
"Sensible words," observed Ephraim, after a thoughtful pause. "To
believe is to observe the forms of worship. In men's eyes, as in those
of God himself, the ceremonies of the cult class one as a believer, and
society first, Heaven later, will show approval by favours."
"As far as men are concerned, it is not difficult to satisfy them,"
spoke Mordecai. "You go to the temple at prescribed times, you perform
the rites scrupulously, with proper manifestations of zeal. And this, I
dare say, is equally satisfactory to the God."
"Certainly," said Ephraim. "But He is Jesus, son of Joseph, a Jewish God
still, and sent by Jehovah, as is proved by His success. He must be a
jealous God. Cleverness is necessary, and in my conferences with Him,
when we are alone----"
"That is it! That is it!" exclaimed the other two.
"Brother," said Samuel, "what was it that led to your--conversion?"
"It came about very naturally," replied Ephraim, "the reason for it
being the great, the only motive of men's actions: self-interest.
Self-interest, which it is the fashion among Christians to decry in
words, while adhering to it strictly in action. When it became plain to
me that the sons of Jehovah, to whom the earth was promised, were not
masters of the earth, the holy promises notwithstanding, doubts entered
my mind, which were only augmented by reflection. If Jehovah does not
keep His promises, thought I, what right has He to the fidelity of those
whom He leaves unrewarded? Give and receive is the rule. If I receive
nothing, God himself has no claim to anything from me. On the other
hand, I observed that the followers of Jesus possessed the earth,
conquered treasures which they reserved strictly for themselves, being
forever anxious to proclaim their indifference to worldly goods while
inordinately preoccupied with collecting them. Their success seemed to
me a sign. And when, after having burned, tortured, and in a thousand
ways persecuted us during the dark ages, I saw them inaugurating the
reign of justice and liberty by a return to persecution, I saw that the
hour had come. I could not, however, decide immediately. A foolish
self-respect held me back, I blush to own it. But then the head of the
commercial house in which I am employed, doing justice to my talents,
said to me:
"'What a pity that you are a Jew, Ephraim. I would gladly turn over my
business to you, but all our customers would forsake us.'
"'If that is all that stands in the way, I am a Christian.'
"'A Christian?'
"'Yes.'