THE SABBATH.
A small hamlet near Warsaw. A spacious, empty market-place, on one side
of which is a modest church and long cemetery wall; on the other a row
of old and new houses of wood and brick, inhabited chiefly by
Israelites. One of these, more conspicuous, rises above the others with
a certain arrogance. On the ground floor, a grocery. On the front two
lions, recalling by their sculpture Assyrian art. In their paws a vase
of flowers and the figures 1860, no doubt the date of the restoration
of the house. An eating-house with an open door is at the side.
Almost all the business of the village centred about this dwelling, a
sufficient proof that the proprietor was an important person. It was a
Friday evening; on the upper floors preparations were being made to
celebrate the day consecrated to God in the Old Testament.
Provisions of all kinds covered the kitchen table. Women kept watch
over a roast goose, a baked fish, while pastry and other dishes were
cooking in the blazing oven. The chambers were being set in order,
brooms flourished everywhere, and the candlesticks were filled with
candles.
Already the venerable Jankiel Meves had returned from the bath. He
hastened to put on his best garments, although the sun was far from
setting; he had eaten little during the day, so as to do more honour to
the blessed supper. While waiting, he reviewed in his memory all the
events of the past week, seeking any violation of the sacred laws so as
to efface them by sincere repentance.
Jankiel was an Israelite of the old school. It would have been very
easy for him to have gained a more elevated position, owing to his
wealth, his intelligence, and his connections; but he refused to put
off his costume and to abandon his religious observances. The noise of
women's jests came to his ears from the kitchen below. His wife,
Rachel, fat, mature, and rosy, kneaded three little white loaves, some
of which she was careful to reserve apart for the Khallah. The good
woman, after having washed her hands, had carefully taken a portion of
the dough, whispering the prayer used on such occasions: "Praised be
Jehovah our God, King of the world! It is from thee that we have
received our sacred laws, and it is thou who hast ordered us to keep
the Khallah!"
As there was only one family and one baking, Rachel threw only one
Khallah into the fire. In another part of the kitchen was in
preparation a stuffed pike, a favourite dish of the Israelites,
recommended by tradition for the Sabbath day. At the same time roasts
and other dishes were cooking. On this day of rejoicing economy is not
thought of.
The master of the house inspected himself the freshly washed dishes,
the shining knife, and the clean stewpans.
The hour arrived for the preparatory prayers of the celebration, with
the Ten Commandments in Hebrew and in Chaldaic, a chapter of the
Prophets applicable to the day of the year, and the 93d Psalm.
What a profound impression can be produced on an oppressed people by
this last song of the Psalmist, which commands patience, and promises
God's vengeance against oppressors.
Jankiel recited the prescribed prayers, and, as he had yet time, he
opened the Talmud and fell on a passage of the Book Berakhat. The
reading plunged him in meditation. His thoughts went back to the days
of intense persecution; he wept, and thanked God that, in spite of
captivity, dispersions, tortures, and oppression, He had miraculously
preserved His people until the present day. Whence came this miracle,
from the observance of the law.
The time of prayers over, custom wills that the master of the house
shall throw a last glance on the festive preparations; and, although he
had entire confidence in Rachel, the Jew visited the kitchen, touched
the dishes, and blessed in thought the nourishment about to be served.
Then he returned to his chamber and read the Song of Solomon.
The sun disappeared, and the candles were lighted. The solemn hour of
the coming of the Sabbath approached.
The table was carefully set, and Rachel appeared in a toilette of
velvet ornamented with pearls. Her daughters were dressed less
elegantly, but with much taste, and the servants even were in their
best.
The time came to go to the synagogue, and Jankiel descended the stairs,
Rachel following him with an enormous volume under her arm. Her
daughters accompanied her, and behind came the servants. That no one
from this house must miss service was the rule of this Israelite.
The crowd filled the court in front of the temple; rich and poor,
devout followers of Mosaism, were mixed together, and the chorister
intoned the prayer Achre.
The service was long. Jankiel's face wore an expression of sad
preoccupation, and when he returned home he had, in spite of this day
of rejoicing, a clouded brow and a discontented air. At times he looked
at Lia, his younger daughter, who awaited with fear and trembling her
mother's commands.
She was a charming girl, whose features expressed innocence and
sensibility of heart. Her eyes sparkled with the fires of youth, though
they were now clouded by recent tears, and she looked at her father as
if frightened.
Rachel recited with her elder daughter the prescribed prayers while
lighting the candles. Other prayers followed, some whispered, some
uttered in a loud voice. The sacred songs echoed through the
brilliantly lighted house, and the women read Hebrew books.
Jankiel absented himself to return to the synagogue, and Rachel
assisted her daughters to finish the preparations for the feast. She
placed on the table, covered with a white cloth, two white loaves made
by herself wrapped in a snowy napkin, in remembrance of the manna of
the desert, the napkin representing the dew.
Returned home, Jankiel pronounced several invocations, and his two
daughters besought his blessing. He extended his hands to the elder,
but when the time came for Lia he hesitated a moment, and his voice
trembled faintly in pronouncing the benediction for the second time.
"May God make Rachel and Lia like Sara and like Rebecca!"
The mother in her turn blessed her children, embraced them, and shed
some tears, which she tried to wipe off, unobserved, on a corner of her
embroidered apron.
Before going to table a new prayer was addressed to the angels by
Jankiel, then a second repetition of the Song of Solomon, and reading
from the Talmud a verse chosen at random. Then followed the
consecration of the wine and the blessing of broken bread, the pieces
of which were distributed to the guests. It was thus they commenced the
repast; but, in spite of the command of Moses to be merry during the
Sabbath, the father seemed to be deeply afflicted. His glance sought
Lia, and the young girl was so confused that she would have liked to
conceal herself under the table.
Carried out according to tradition, the feast had a solemn character.
The supper was half prayer, half offering, and bore no resemblance to
the fashionable feasts from which God is banished and to which one does
not dream of inviting the angels. Jankiel, a scrupulous observer of the
law, pronounced a last prayer at the end of the repast. After that they
separated. Rachel went to her bedroom, where Jankiel soon joined her.
"I am alarmed," said she to her husband; "you appear ill. You are not
in your usual spirits. You have not the tranquillity of the Sabbath.
What is the matter with you?"
"Oh, it will pass away! Do not speak of it now. It would sadden this
blessed and holy day."
His wife said no more.
It is thus that the Sabbath is kept in houses where the old customs are
strictly observed. In most Jewish families the ritual is abridged, and
this tends to destroy the ancient and patriarchal character of this
consecrated day.
Opposite Jankiel's dwelling was a wooden house; it was comfortable and
convenient, and belonged to David Seeback. It was toward the windows of
this house that Lia, alone in her chamber, turned her beautiful eyes.
She sighed deeply, and seemed lost in thought.
David Seeback, father and son, had for many years followed the
profession of money-lenders, a business which was called usury until
the moment when political economy decided that to profit by the need of
another is legitimate; and that interest, mutually agreed, no matter
how high, is a permissible thing. These financiers were neither Jews
nor Christians. They kept in appearance the Jewish laws and customs,
but they attached to them no real importance. David, the father, gave
himself out as a believing Jew to his co-religionists, but ridiculed
all their observances when he found himself with the _Khutars_ and the
_Goimes_.
He ate anywhere that he happened to be, and travelled on the days set
aside for prayer and repose. In a word, he had shaken off tradition and
found nothing to take its place.
David the younger had received his education in Warsaw and abroad; he
bore no trace whatever of his origin. Well educated, but very corrupt
at heart, he found in his insatiable cupidity many ways of gaining
money. The father was proud of his only scion, and predicted for him a
high destiny; and this time the proverb "like father like son" was
right.
While the solemn ceremony of the Sabbath was being kept in the house of
Jankiel, the two Davids lighted their candles and ate their supper, but
forgot the prayers and the offerings of bread and wine. They were
alone.
Long time a widower, Seeback had no other child but David. A weak
character, he jested under all circumstances, and loved to make a trial
of wit with his son. David the younger sometimes lent himself to this
paternal whim, but, in general, he assumed a certain gravity, so as to
impose upon people by an affected wisdom. Hypocrisy was developed in
the family from one generation to another.
With all his indifference to religion, David the elder felt, on the
days consecrated by custom, a certain remorse for having abandoned the
pious customs; he was uneasy and unhappy. Sometimes he glided into an
obscure corner, and murmured a portion of a prayer that he considered
ridiculous to repeat aloud. He believed that by these clandestine
practices he might repel some imminent danger. He had lost all respect
for Jehovah, but he feared him still. Several times on this evening he
arose from the table, and, at the risk of incurring his son's sneers,
muttered in his sleeve some prayer. He had even simulated the blessing
of the wine when he presented it to his heir, who, with a certain tact,
feigned not to notice all his grimaces. The younger David had a
distinguished manner, but his features expressed pride and foppery.
The father increased these faults by praises, and his admiration almost
reached idolatry. He asked nothing in return but filial gratitude. The
young man made very little account of his father, and reproached him
continually for infractions of the laws of good society and for his
ignorance. The old man at first essayed to justify himself, but always
finished by bowing to the superior wisdom of David, junior. This
insolent coxcomb was seated at table in a dressing-gown, with a cigar
in his mouth. He wore gold spectacles, though they really hindered him
from seeing. Fish was served, the only vestige of traditional customs,
then a roast and tea. The old man cut the bread, muttering some
unintelligible words; but he perceived a look of disdain from his son,
and did not finish the prayer. There was a long silence, which the
father broke by asking the young man, who had stretched himself out in
a chair:
"What do you dream of? Of the Sabbath?"
"All that I know of the Sabbath is," replied David the younger, "that
formerly they celebrated it. Today it is foolish, a foolish custom, and
it is old Jankiel alone who observes the ridiculous ceremonies.
Unfortunately, ridicule makes no impression on him."
"Would you, then, mock him?"
"Why not? This wretched, vulgar Jew feels for us only malevolence and
repulsion."
"What matters it? He cannot injure us. His ill-will cannot make us lose
one thing or another."
"That is true. And I would not have even noticed his aversion had he
not such a pretty daughter."
"How now! What are you thinking of? Do not forget that you are already
married, although you do not live with your wife. Do not plunge
yourself in a love affair. There are plenty of girls who will suit you
better than that lass. Even if you wish to be divorced, you must not
dream of her. We can easily find for you the daughter of some Polish
proprietor. If you take a second wife, you must look as high as
possible, and for one not a Jewess. Am I not sufficiently rich to buy a
property grand enough to make all the neighbouring aristocracy
jealous?"
"I do not want land. Why invest in property that does not return four
per cent., when we can now get twenty or thirty?"
"You are right, and you are wrong. Our capital brings in, it is true,
the interest you name, but at the same time we run the risk of losing
it. When one has acquired so immense a fortune as ours, it does not do
to expose all of it in the same speculations. Land cannot run away. The
banks give four and a half per cent.; but even the banks can fail. One
cannot sleep easy with much money in the banks. The public funds? They
are depressed. I continually fear a declaration of war. Land is really
the safest investment."
"Not as safe as you think. The land can be taken from us."
"By whom?"
"We are not in France, or England, where property is sacred. Our
government offers no security. No one is secure here."
"A very profound political thought, and one worthy of being remembered.
I render homage to your perspicacity; but suppose even that half of the
land was confiscated, the other half would increase in value. That is
indisputable, while paper may be worth nothing to-morrow. Let us return
to your future marriage. The first was unworthy of you; it must be
dissolved. But why the devil do you dream of Lia? She did well for
herself to fall in your way. She is a Jewess, and, though she is not
bad looking, beauty is not everything. What a figure she would make in
your _salon_, this country maiden who knows not how either to stand or
to sit. Your second wife must be a woman who has received a refined
education. She must be of noble birth, that she may shine at court. And
could Lia do that? A simple country girl!"
"Nevertheless," objected David, "it is not for my _salon_ that I wish
to marry. I myself prefer a simple and innocent girl to all the
fashionable ladies of Warsaw, who, having had eleven adorers, marry the
twelfth."
"You talk foolishly. To think thus is the part of a common Jew, who
only dreams of multiplying and filling the earth according to the
command of the Bible. Your wife ought to push your fortunes. Through
your education and your fortune you cannot fail to become a celebrated
man. And what would you do then with Lia? Take her to a ball, or to the
theatre? Truly, she would do you honour! If some great person noticed
her, she would be confused and embarrassed, sucking her apron to hide
her face. There are hundreds of Jewesses like that. You must take an
educated wife, German or French. With your brains, and my money, you
can aspire to anything. It would not be astounding for you to become
minister, and then"--
He threw out his arm, and extinguished a candle. He arose to light it,
but, suddenly remembering that this was the Sabbath day, a
superstitious fear came over his spirit. He remained standing, not
knowing what to do.
Seeing his father's hesitation, his son left his chair, and was bold
enough to relight the candle. After this act of courage he reseated
himself, and puffed his cigar with a malicious air.
His father loved to smoke, but, as he dared not infringe the law, he
always deprived himself of that pleasure on the Sabbath, under pretext
of some trifling indisposition. When the candle was relighted, an
infraction of the Jewish law, he at first regarded it with fear, but
soon regained his normal state, and continued to explain his theories
on marriage.
"Lia cannot hope for a great fortune," said he. "Estimating Jankiel's
wealth at its highest,--house, manufactory, and shop,--he scarcely
possesses a hundred, or a hundred and twenty thousand roubles. What is
that? A mere trifle to us!"
"And we," asked the young man, to tease his father, "have we not enough
money?"
"How can such a word come out of your mouth? Has one ever enough? With
money one does as he wills; without it, with all the intelligence in
the world, one is only a fool. I will try to find you a rich wife.
Think no more of Lia."
"What if I love her?"
"Love her? Your love will only be like a fire of straw; the faster it
burns, the sooner it will die out. A sensible man does not marry for
love and for the bright eyes of a young girl."
David, junior, burst out laughing, and his father was exceedingly proud
of this mark of approbation from one who was usually so disdainful.
Satisfied with themselves, they were about to retire to their rooms,
when they heard loud knocks on the outer door.
The thing was so extraordinary at this hour of the night, that the old
man experienced a sensation of anxiety and foreboding, which changed to
one of surprise when he saw at the door a man of fine appearance and of
commanding stature, whom he did not recognize at first sight.
"Messieurs," said the stranger, "I hope you will pardon this intrusion
on a holy day, and at so late an hour."
"Why, this is Monsieur Jacob!" cried the old man.
"Our holy law," replied the new-comer, "forbids all business
transactions on the day consecrated to God, but the law permits us, on
such occasions, to succour even a beast in danger of death; how much
more, then, a man."
"Dear Monsieur Jacob, we do not belong to that superstitious class who
dare not touch the fire or sew on a button during the Sabbath. Be
seated. What can we do for you? But pardon me; my son David, Monsieur
Jacob, who is a distant relation, and of whom you have often heard me
speak," added he, presenting his son to the visitor.
David, junior, only knew that Jacob had been the sole legatee of a rich
banker of Berlin, but that was sufficient to cause him to receive him
with distinction. They invited him a second time to be seated. Jacob
excused himself with a certain impatience.
"Perhaps you have not yet supped?" asked the master of the house.
"I reached your town somewhat late, and hastened to fulfil my religious
duties. I have been to the synagogue, then I ate a little at the inn."
"Ah, you go to the temple!" and turning toward his son, the old man
said:--
"What a good example! Monsieur Jacob, well brought up and intelligent,
observes the law!"
"Yes," said Jacob, "a Jew I shall always remain. No doubt in captivity
and exile we have added many ceremonies to the Mosaic law. These are
both sweet and bitter souvenirs. It is good not to let them be
extinguished."
The elder David visibly rejoiced at these words; his son smiled and bit
his lips.
"Every one ought to follow the dictates of his own conscience," said
he.
"But tell us to what good fortune do we owe your visit?" asked the
father.
"I come to you on account of our relationship, to demand a service. I
met in Italy a young Polish exile who suffers so much with homesickness
that I brought him here with me. He was poor and ill. My conscience
urged me to aid him. He fled from Poland several years ago, fearing to
be implicated in a political plot."
"Political affairs; bad business," grumbled the old man shaking his
head, while his son said nothing.
"He has succeeded in obtaining a passport under an assumed name,"
continued Jacob, "and he was determined to brave the danger, and
accompanied me to Poland. At the frontier he would not accept my offer
to go on with him. For fear of compromising me if he was arrested, he
preceded me so as to enter his native land alone. Honest youth! Happily
he passed the frontier, as I learned on arriving two days later.
Scarcely had I passed the custom-house when I heard that the police had
discovered that he was travelling under an assumed name. I hastened to
rejoin him at the station where he was detained, and secured his
release. I come to ask you to shelter him in your house, which is not
suspected by the police, until I can obtain amnesty for him or find
some other means to rid him of his pursuers. Otherwise the unfortunate
boy will be sent to Siberia, and perish like many others of his
oppressed countrymen."
The silence with which the two Davids answered his request showed that
they were not inclined to harbour the young Pole. The appeal to their
sentiment of humanity fell on deaf ears. It was the elder who, with a
frown, finally spoke.
"This is a most delicate business," said he, "and very dangerous. Why
not be frank with a kinsman? This is not a Jewish affair. What have we
to do with the Poles, or Polish complications? They have nothing in
common with us. The government does not persecute us, or, at least, it
could persecute us much more. We are believed to be loyal and devoted.
Why, then, should we expose ourselves and alienate this favourable
disposition, by aiding, our former oppressors, the Poles? Why should
the Jews meddle with politics? It is not our business."
"You and I differ in regard to that," replied Jacob. "If we wish to
enjoy the same rights as other inhabitants of this country, we ought to
commence to take an interest in politics and in the welfare of the
land. It is only thus that we can expect to live on a footing of
perfect equality. The government has decided to crush out the
intelligent and educated Poles. It certainly belongs to us who eat
their bread to make common cause with them against their oppressors,
who are only conquering intruders. Let us remember our own captivity."
"Did you not say that the Jews ought to observe the law above all
things? You contradict yourself, for the law commands us to protect
ourselves, and it is contrary to our interests to take part with the
Poles."
"How do you know that? Can you read the future? The iniquities
committed against this nation cannot always remain without vengeance.
God has permitted the chastisement, but the measure is full. The sins
are washed away by tears and by blood! The day of justice draws near!
In the day of terrible retribution it will be better to be with those
who have been purified by divine punishment, and not with those who
have incurred the wrath of God."
"In my turn let me ask, how do you know all this?" said the elder
David. "Is it your prophetic spirit that tells you? Have you remembered
the sins of these Philistines, the extortions and the miseries with
which they afflicted us? Do you know that there still remains much to
expiate?"
"It is not just to make a single nation responsible for the crimes of
all Christians. The Jews have been persecuted everywhere, and in many
lands much worse than here."
"What good is all this discussion?" cried the younger David, rising
from his chair. "It is nothing to us who obtains the upper hand. I do
not care to decide who are the better, the Russians or the Poles. At
least I know how to take a Russian. He is always easily bought; at
first he is brutal and insulting, then he holds out his hand, and you
have only to oil it with a few pieces of silver, and he becomes sweet
and obliging; but your Poles do not inspire me with so much
confidence."
Jacob would listen no longer; he arose, and cried indignantly:--
"Then, as such are your convictions I will not insist. I see, with
sorrow, that you, as well as others, choose a selfish policy, and
always take sides with the strong and not with the right."
"The right? The ancient rulers of the country have not respected us,
have they?"
"If I admit that, is it any reason why we should imitate them to-day?
The elect people ought to be more virtuous than the people they live
with, and set them an example."
The younger David began to whistle, and then said:--
"Who speaks now of virtue and right? In the world of to-day
self-interest is the sole right. Virtue! Right! Grand words, in which
one no longer believes."--
The old man bowed before his son's superior wisdom, and threw a glance
full of pride at Jacob, which seemed to say:--
"How can you reply to that, eh?"
The friend of Ivas calmly surveyed the young man, and replied in a
grave voice, dwelling on each word:--
"Unfortunately, you appreciate our epoch at its true value. However,
that which now is cannot always be. Truth still exists. Our law,
thousands of years old though it may be, is not worn out. Open our holy
books, and you will read therein truths which have never ceased to be
truths, and which will never cease until the end of the world. Men are
corrupt; faith has diminished. God will rectify this state of things.
Let us be followers of the ancient law, and not of present errors. If
you have gained by your education nothing more than the reasoning that
you affect, I sincerely pity you."
On this Jacob ceased, and the old man, before so calm, became agitated,
and looked at his son for a reply. The serenity of spirit of this man,
so firm in his belief, awoke in him a fear similar to that which had
kept him from relighting the candle on the Sabbath.
David, junior, replied coolly:--
"Do not trouble yourself about me, I beg of you, Monsieur Jacob. Every
one to his own opinion. Do not go yet. Perhaps I can find a way to
satisfy your demand without incurring any risk."
"Thanks. It is weak of me to implore you again to help an unfortunate
whom you so little wish to succour. Still a few more words. The country
is on the eve of a revolution. The result is doubtful, but it is an
opportunity for us to gain equal rights by the sacrifice of our blood.
Let us profit by it. Many of my race think as I do."
"Many? How many? Who are they? Do you know the intentions of the
Emperor Napoleon? Are you in the secrets of Lord Palmerston? Have you
received the confidences of the Rothschilds?"
"I can only tell you one thing; it is, that here the most sensible men
are of my opinion."
"And the richest?"
"Yes, the richest also," replied Jacob, with an involuntary smile.
"In that case," said the old man, "we must take the affair into
consideration."
"As for the object of my visit, I regard it a failure. I can only
excuse myself for disturbing you at such an hour."
Then he turned to go, when the old man called him back.
"Wait!" cried he. "A glass of wine. David, bring the three rouble
Bordeaux. Deign to taste it, Monsieur Jacob. Isolated, as we are, in
this little village, we know not how the wind blows. Tell us, is there
anything in contemplation?"
"You had better find out for yourselves, and then you can decide which
party you will aid."
"Those incorrigible Poles! I fear they are engaging in some new
pranks."
"I know nothing," said Jacob. "I can only surmise. The Muscovites
themselves have the air of hastening the explosion of this foolishness
to divert that which threatens their own country, 'holy Russia.' Since
the emancipation of the serfs, the situation has been critical. By
kindling a fire in Poland, they relight the national hatred, and turn
away the public thoughts from Petersburg and Moscow towards the
provinces. It is the only way, now that the peasants give proofs of
discontent and the revolutionary idea is propagated, the sole method of
reaffirming the authority of the Czar."
"What admirable teachers!" cried the old man. "Profound wisdom like
that is the gage of certain success. Certainly, that is the side we had
better take."
"As a nation," said Jacob, "we have been conquered more than once.
Always in place of attaching ourselves to the triumphal chariot, we
have remained faithful to the cause of God."
He then rose to leave for the second time, but the elder David was
ashamed to let his visitor depart thus.
"What, then, is your proposition?" asked he.
"To shelter under your roof an outlaw. This village being isolated, the
risk is not great."
"Very true," said the younger man; "but in a small place like this,
where every one is acquainted, the arrival of a stranger would be
remarked."
"Then say no more about it," said Jacob, turning to go. "A thousand
excuses for disturbing you."
This time he really took his departure.
"I am sorry," said the father to the son when they were alone, "that we
did not find some way to arrange this affair. Jacob has excellent
connections. What will he tell them of us? Truly, he cannot have a very
good opinion."
"Bah! I am, perhaps, of your opinion, but we could not do otherwise.
Let us to bed."
The protector of Ivas returned to the inn, and did not awaken his
companion, who was wrapped in a deep slumber. He threw himself on the
bed, and his thoughts kept him awake the greater part of the night. He
arose early to seek an interview with Jankiel, whom he did not know
personally.
Having introduced himself to the old man, he took part in the morning
prayers, and then told him frankly that he had long desired his
acquaintance, and that he addressed him full of confidence in his
well-known sentiments.
This frankness pleased Jankiel, who placed his hand on his visitor's
shoulder, and replied kindly:--
"I have heard of you as a man on whom the people of Israel can lean
with confidence, for, in spite of your known learning, you guard the
ancient faith, customs, and practices, and honour old age. In all this
you differ from many of our young men. May the God of Isaac and Jacob
bless you! Learned men abound, but pious ones are rare. Our customs are
neglected; they spit on the tombs of our ancestors, and on all that
past ages have taught us to respect."
"I fear I am not possessed of all with which you credit me, but I try
not to disgrace my ancient faith and lineage."
"And where do you come from now?"
"From foreign parts. I have visited almost all countries inhabited by
the Jews, and everywhere I have verified their deplorable misery."
"Have you visited the land of our fathers?"
"Yes, but even there the Jews are not at home. They are strangers even
in their own country."
At this moment Jankiel remembered a citation from the Prophet Jeremiah,
to which Jacob replied by the following passage from the Talmud:--
"'The hands of the divine mercy are always outstretched under the wings
of the Seraphim to receive the repentant sinner.'" (Pesakhim 119. a.)
Jankiel was enchanted to hear the young man quote the Talmud, so
neglected by the present generation. He blessed him, with emotion, and
said:--
"My heart goes out to you, and I would be glad to give you a proof of
my sympathy. Speak, and tell me what service you require of me."
"I come to you with a petition that I have already, but in vain,
addressed to David, your neighbour."
At the name of David the old man frowned, but quickly replied:--
"That need not deter you. I am listening."
Jacob related the history of Ivas, and asked Jankiel's advice.
"The circumstances," replied the old man, after a moment of thought,
"are difficult. We ought, however, to side with the persecuted and not
with the oppressor. 'Among birds the strongest always attack the pigeon
and the dove, which are the most acceptable offerings to the Lord.'
(Baba Kama, 93. a.) Unhappy Poland! We have lived with her people on
the same soil for five hundred years. We ought not to forget that. It
is true she is not of our faith, but God does not command to kill even
infidels. 'Be at peace with all thy brothers, with thy neighbours, with
all men, even the Pagan.' (Barakhot, 17. a.)"
"Beautiful words! If all observed them the world would be better."
"Unhappy nation! She has passed through the most frightful calamities,
and greater horrors still threaten her. She wishes to break her chains,
and at each attempt these chains are more tightly welded. God has
humiliated her because she has counted more on human strength than on
divine clemency. Her pride is not yet broken. Poor country! If we are
unable to help her, at least we can pray God to protect her. Where is
the young man? What do you intend to do with him?"
"Ivas is with me, but I can keep him only with great trouble. In his
ardour he would throw himself into the hands of those who seek him. I
desire to procure him shelter for awhile. But where? Will he be prudent
and obedient? I hope I can persuade him of the necessity."
"If you had not first appealed to David, I would have received him into
my house. Now I dare not. I have a room in the attic where he would
have been in safety, but it is too late. An accusation is to be feared.
I could buy myself off, but he would be lost."
"Do you not know of some house, some friend, in the country?"
"Ah! yes; I see my way out of this embarrassment. I know some honest
men who live in the depths of a forest. Early to-morrow I will take him
to them in my wagon. But he must be on his guard."
Jacob embraced Jankiel with effusion.
"Never mind thanking me so warmly," said the latter with emotion. "I am
happy to oblige you, and also your friend, who loves his country and
liberty as we formerly loved Judea. However, in the name of Heaven, if
you have any influence with the Poles, try to restrain them. The enemy
lies in wait for them, and already rejoices in anticipation of the
spoils and the cruelties he will accomplish when the anticipated
insurrection has been crushed. There is nothing gained by setting fire
to one's own house in order to drive out invaders. They must be wary
and use strategy."
"Your words are full of wisdom, but men are rarely guided by reason.
Suffering and misfortune are bad counsellors."
Jacob informed Ivas of the result of his visit, and added:--
"I have done all that I could. Now it is for you to be careful not to
fall again into the claws of the Muscovite. You will be informed if you
are in danger, so that you can leave your hiding-place."