Uncle Grünebaum in holiday raiment was a dignified, substantial,
self-assured and firm figure. Whoever took a fleeting glance at him at
first was usually so pleasantly surprised that he followed the glance
with steady observation lasting some minutes, observation which Uncle
Grünebaum either permitted with admirable composure or put an end to by
an inimitable: "Well?" according to the person who made it.
In his Sunday raiment Uncle Nik'las Grünebaum stood at the corner
opposite the "Gymnasium" and resembled an angel in so far as he wore
a long blue coat which, to be sure, as far as the cut was concerned,
had little in common with the garments in saints' pictures. The waist
of this coat had been placed by the manufacturer as near as possible
to the back of the neck and two _non plus ultra_ buttons marked its
beginning. The pockets showed themselves plainly in the lower region
of the coat-tails and a short pipe with gracefully dangling tassels
looked curiously out of one of them. Uncle Grünebaum wore a yellow
and brown striped waistcoat and trousers of a greenish blue color,
somewhat too short but of agreeable construction, too tight above, too
wide below. The watch charms which swung beneath the stomach of the
worthy man would really deserve several pages of description, and we
will say nothing of his hat, for fear that we should then be carried
irresistibly beyond the limits of the space at our disposal.
Wherefore did Uncle Grünebaum, dressed in his Sunday clothes on an
ordinary week-day, stand at the corner opposite the "Gymnasium"? Tell
us, Oh Muse, the reason of this! You have observed Master Nik'las long
enough, eloquent calliope, turn your divine eye toward the school-house
and tell us, like a good girl who hasn't it in her heart to let anyone
dangle long, what is going on in there!
Truly, there was reason enough for more than one of the persons who
have been mentioned in these pages to be excited, for on this Wednesday
before Maundy Thursday Hans Unwirrsch and Moses Freudenstein were
taking their final examination and, if they should pass, would thus
conclude their school life.
That was why Uncle Grünebaum had taken an unusual holiday and stood
at the corner in festive attire, that was why he held his position
in the market-day crowd with an obstinacy that deserved recognition,
that was why he plucked so convulsively at the coat buttons of
those acquaintances who incautiously inquired into the reason of
his unusually elaborate get-up. It was most unwillingly that Master
Grünebaum let go of any of the buttons that he took hold of that day.
His soul was full of the important event. It might be regarded from
almost too many points of view! If what was going on over there in the
school-house should turn out as was expected and desired, whom would
the world have to thank for it? None other than the honorable Master
Grünebaum! When the confused neighbor or acquaintance had finally torn
himself out of Master Grünebaum's grasp, he was far from being clear
for some minutes as to who it was that was being examined by Professor
Fackler, Uncle Grünebaum or Uncle Grünebaum's nephew, Hans Unwirrsch.
At twelve o'clock the examination was to be over and from moment
to moment Uncle Grünebaum's nervous system vibrated more and more
violently. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his
handkerchief; he clapped it on again, pushed it back, pushed it
forward, to the right and to the left. He took his long coat-tails
under his arms and dropped them again; he blew his nose so that the
report could be heard three streets off. He began to talk aloud to
himself and gesticulated much at the same time, to the high edification
of all the male and female gapers in the shop doors and behind the
windows nearby. The market-women whose path he had blocked all the
morning, often set down their baskets of eggs and vegetables and their
cans of milk in order to make him budge, at least morally, but he was
deaf to their pointed suggestions. On that day he would have let even a
dog treat him contemptuously.
At a quarter to twelve he drank his sixth glass of bitters in the
nearest grocer's shop and it was high time that he did so, for he felt
so weak on his feet that he was nearly ready to fall. From now on he
held his watch, an heirloom for which a collector of curiosities would
have paid much money, convulsively in his trembling hand and when the
clock of the town church struck twelve he nearly went home and to bed,
"finished and done for."
He drank another glass of bitters; it was the seventh, and together
with the others it had its effect, and its consequences were more
noticeable than those of the previous ones.
Uncle Grünebaum now leant firmly against the wall; he smiled through
tears. From time to time he made gestures of warding something off
as if he would drive uninvited feelings back within bounds; it was
fortunate for him that at this hour the younger portion of the
population was abandoning itself to the pleasures of the dinner
table--this spared him many affronts and ironical remarks. He began
to attract the attention of the police and they, maternally concerned
about him, gave him the advice not to wait any longer but to go
home, the result of which was only that he leant still more firmly
against the wall and with displeased grunts, snorts and hiccoughs gave
utterance to his intention to wait at that corner for "the lad" till
doomsday. Since as yet he did not seriously disturb the public peace,
the police retired a little but kept a sharp eye upon him ready at any
moment to spring forward and seize him.
Fortunately not only the laudable protectors of public safety watched
over Master Nik'las but also his guardian angel, or rather, the latter
just returned from attending to some private business, to resume his
watch. He saw with horror how matters stood and it was most probably
due to his mediation that over in the school-house a violent shock ran
suddenly through the learned soul of Professor Fackler as he remembered
his Lesbia waiting for him to come home to dinner. He glanced hastily
at his watch and jumped from his seat; the other gentlemen rustled
after him, _secundum ordinem_. The candidates, before whose eyes
everything had gradually begun to swim, rose also, dizzy, sweating
and exhausted. Uncle Grünebaum now had to keep his balance for only a
short quarter of an hour more;--at a quarter to one he sank, he fell,
he toppled into the arms of his pale, excited nephew--Victory! Hans
Unwirrsch had triumphed, Master Grünebaum had triumphed; the one over
the questions of seven examining instructors, the other over the seven
glasses of bitters--Victory!
Professor Fackler wanted to go up to Hans' uncle to congratulate him
but refrained in shocked surprise when he recognized the excellent
man's upset condition; Moses Freudenstein, _primus inter pares_,
laughed not a little at the helpless and piteous glances that Hans
Unwirrsch threw in all directions; the happiness of the hour however
had made his heart softer than usual, he offered to aid his friend, and
between the two youths the jolly old boy Nik'las Grünebaum made for
Kröppel Street, smiling and babbling, staggering and sobbing.
What did it matter that as soon as he got into the low, dark room
Uncle Grünebaum dropped onto the nearest chair, laid his arms on the
table and his head on his arms? What did Mother Christine and Auntie
Schlotterbeck care about Uncle Grünebaum in this hour? They left him
entirely to himself and to his seven glasses of bitters! The two women
were almost as bewildered and confused as the master; they sobbed and
smiled at the same time, as he had sobbed and smiled and Hans was not
behind them in emotion and jubilance.
The day was won by the two boys from Kröppel Street; Moses Freudenstein
of course had passed first among all the candidates; but Hans Unwirrsch
had achieved the second place.
Everything in the room looked different from usual; a magic light had
spread over everything. It was no wonder that the glass globe shone;
it was too intimate with the sun not to sparkle on such a day as if it
were a little sun itself. Anyone who looked at it carefully saw that
more was reflected in it than he would have suspected: laughing and
weeping faces, bits of the walls, a part of Kröppel Street with a piece
of blue sky, the royal Westphalian body-servant and the junk-dealer
Samuel Freudenstein who pulled the said servant from his hook with
strange haste and shut the shutters and door of his house.
Auntie Schlotterbeck saw this occurrence, which was reflected in the
hanging globe, through the window and was just about to give vent to
her wonder at it when Uncle Grünebaum raised his tired head from the
table and began to survey his surroundings with more than astonished
glances. He rubbed his eyes, ran his fingers through his hair and
took his place once more in the family circle with the remark that
any excess of joy and jubilance was very dangerous and might bring on
attacks of something like apoplexy, as his "own bodily example" had
just shown. With his senses he had regained in rich measure the gift of
dulcet speech and as usual immediately made liberal use of it.
"So this young man here, our nephew and descendant, has been an honor
to his beloved relatives and now it's certain that cobbling isn't
the thing for him. He has now successfully put his head through the
hole according to his desire, and thus with time and experience will
probably be able to squeeze body and legs through also, and we may
certainly be of good hope that he will not forget us on this side of
the wall when he has drawn his feet after his head. There are indeed
instances of examples to show that a genius will get his head wrenched
in pushing himself through and that he consequently loses all memory
of what is behind the wall and who is there and has helped to push
with all his strength. But this Hans here present will remember his
uncle, also his mother and, of course, don't let us forget, Auntie
Schlotterbeck. He will ever recall what they have done for him and how
he can never thank them enough for it. There he stands now, Christine
Unwirrsch, _née_ Grünebaum; there he stands, Auntie Schlotterbeck, and
his head is full of good things and the tears run over his cheeks, so
that it is a joyful spectacle and a painful pleasure. We will not deny
that he has learnt more than what's right and reasonable, and if Auntie
questions him in Greek he will answer in Hebrew. So let us be thankful
for the good gift and not trouble ourselves about the devil's taking
one and all, odd and even. Come here, my boy, and even if you did once
infamously despise the most honorable trade, and are at present nearer
to a pastor than to the pitch-cobbler Grünebaum, yet come here and
embrace me; from the bottom of his heart your uncle says 'here's to
you' on this your day of honor!"
There was sense in the nonsense that Uncle Grünebaum delivered with
such pathos; but even if it had been nothing but drivel Hans would have
thrown himself into the worthy man's wide open arms notwithstanding.
After hugging and squeezing his uncle for some minutes he kissed his
mother over again, then once more went through the same process with
Auntie Schlotterbeck, striving all the time to express his overflowing
feelings in words.
"Oh, how shall I thank you all for what you have done for me!" he
cried. "Oh Mother, if only my father were still alive!"
At this exclamation of her son's his mother naturally broke into loud
sobs; but Auntie Schlotterbeck merely folded her hands in her lap,
nodded her head and smiled without giving utterance to her thoughts.
All at once however she rose quickly from her chair, seized Mrs.
Christine by the skirt and pointed mysteriously to the window.
They all looked in the direction she indicated, but no one else saw
anything. Kröppel Street lay bathed in the noonday sunshine but none of
its inhabitants was to be seen; the junk-dealer's house looked as if
its inmates had deserted it half a century ago; only a cat made use of
the quiet moment to cross the street cautiously.
"She is enough to give one the shivers in broad daylight," murmured
Uncle Grünebaum with a timid sidelong glance at Auntie Schlotterbeck;
the mother clasped her son's hand tighter and drew him nearer to
her; whatever may have been Hans' opinion of Auntie Schlotterbeck's
mysterious gifts he was not able at that moment to defend himself
against the feeling that her behavior aroused in him.
What a waking was that on the morning after this difficult and happy
day! A victor who has triumphantly pitched his tent on a conquered
battlefield, a young girl who has become engaged the evening before
at a ball, may perhaps wake with the same feelings as Hans Unwirrsch
after his examination. The nerves have not yet grown calm but one is
permeated by the blissful feeling that they have time to become calm.
After-tremors of the great excitement still twitch through the soul
but in spite of that, nay, just on that account, one has a sense of
security approaching ecstasy. What remains of human happiness if we
subtract from it the hope that goes before the struggle, before the
attainment of the desire and these first confused, indistinct moments
that follow it?
_Summa cum laude!_ smiled the sun that played about the bed in which
Hans Unwirrsch lay with half-closed eyelids. _Summa cum laude!_
twittered the early sparrows and swallows in front of his window.
_Summa cum laude!_ cried the bells that rang in Maundy Thursday. _Summa
cum laude!_ said Hans Unwirrsch as he stood in the middle of his room
and made a low bow--to himself.
He had not quite finished dressing when his mother slipped into the
room. She had left her shoes below, near the stairs, so as not to wake
Auntie Schlotterbeck, whose bedroom was next to that of Hans. She sat
down on her son's bed and regarded him with simple pride and her glance
did him good to the inmost recesses of his soul.
Downstairs the holiday coffee was waiting and Auntie Schlotterbeck sat
at the table. She had left her shoes upstairs by her bedroom door so as
not to wake the student and Mrs. Christine, and their consideration of
one another gave rise to much laughter. There was a piece of jubilee
cake too and although Maundy Thursday is only a half holiday, as every
toiler knows, it was settled that it was to be kept as a whole one.
First, of course, they went to church after Hans had knocked again
vainly at the junk-dealer's door. Since old Samuel had taken the
body-servant of King Jerome from his hook and thus removed him forever
from what to him in truth had been the swirl and swing of life, the
door had not been opened again. What was going on behind it was a
riddle to Kröppel Street, but a still greater riddle to Hans who had
not seen his friend since they had walked home together after the
examination and who had returned unsuccessful from every attempt to
penetrate into the house opposite. Murx, the retired town constable,
who still kept watch on Kröppel Street, from his armchair, in helpless
fury and goutier than ever, had already drawn the attention of his
successor in office to the "confoundedly suspicious case;" indeed, the
burgomaster had already shaken his head over it. The silent house began
to disturb the peace of the town more than the most drunken brawler
could have done.
But the bells called people to church, and along came Uncle Grünebaum,
in his blue coat, sea-green breeches and striped waistcoat, armed with
the mightiest of all hymnbooks as a shield against all bitter and sweet
temptations, an ornament to every street through which he marched, an
adornment to every gathering of Christians, politicians and civilized
men that he honored with his presence.
Hans and his mother walked hand in hand and at Auntie Schlotterbeck's
side strode Uncle Grünebaum, who lost a little of his self-conscious
respectability only when he turned the corner where the day before he
had--where his feelings had overwhelmed him the day before. He drew
out a very red handkerchief, blew his nose violently and thus passed
successfully by the disastrous spot and landed his dignity without
damage in the family pew. It is a pity that we cannot devote a chapter
to his singing; no cobbler ever caroled with greater reverence and
power through his nose.
Hans did not understand much of the sermon on that day and although it
was rather long it seemed to him very short. Even the stone skeleton
on the old monument beside the Unwirrsches' place in church, that
monster which Hans, long after he had ceased to be a child, could
never dissociate from the idea of church, grinned "_Summa cum laude!_"
"_Summa cum laude!_" sang all the pipes of the organ and it was to
this accompaniment that the family left the house of God. Above
all there was "_Summa cum laude!_" in Professor Fackler's smile,
who had also been at church with Cornelia and Eugenia, and who did
not think it beneath his dignity to walk part of the way with his
favorite's relatives, thus being enabled to offer Uncle Grünebaum the
congratulations he had had ready the day before.
"_Summa cum laude!_" seemed to shine in the faces of everyone they met;
it was really very curious.
Professor Fackler had taken his leave with good wishes and
hand-shakings and Eugenia and Cornelia had returned dainty little
courtesies to the shy and blushing student's awkward bow;--there was
Kröppel Street again and its inhabitants had already taken off their
Sunday raiment and put on their workday clothes.
They were not working however; there was great excitement in Kröppel
Street; old and young ran hither and thither shouting and gesticulating.
"Hullo, what's the matter now?" exclaimed Uncle Grünebaum. "What's
happened? What's the matter, Master Schwenckkettel?"
"He's got it! It's got him!" was the answer.
"The devil! Who's got it? What's got him?"
"The Jew! Freudenstein! He's lying on his back and gasping----"
The women clasped their hands. Hans Unwirrsch stood rigid, and turned
pale, but Uncle Grünebaum said, phlegmatically:
"The devil takes one and all, odd and even! Don't hurry, Hans,--well, I
declare, he's off already!"
Hans ran at full speed toward the junk-dealer's shop which, with
its door wide open, was besieged by a dense throng of people. They
looked over one another's shoulders and although no one saw anything
extraordinary in the dark space yet no one would have moved from the
spot where he stood; Kröppel Street was too fond of excitements like
this that cost nothing.
It was only with difficulty that Hans, in his bewilderment, was able
to make a path for himself. At last he stood in the dusk of the
shop, feeling as if he were shut out forever from the fresh, open
air of spring. The faces of the people on the steps of the entrance
stared down at him as through a mist; just as he was about to lay his
trembling hand on the handle of the door that led to the back room it
was opened.
The doctor came out and straightened his spectacles.
"Ah, it's you, Unwirrsch," he said. "He's in a bad way in there.
_Apoplexia spasmodica._ Gastric, convulsive apoplexy. Everything
possible has been done for the moment. I'll look in again in an hour. A
pleasant day to you, sir!"
Hans Unwirrsch did not return the doctor's last greeting, which seemed
a little out of keeping with the present circumstances. He summoned all
his energy and stepped into the back room which was now transformed
into a death chamber. A penetrating odor of spirits of ammonia met him,
the sick man on his bed in the corner already had the rattle in his
throat; the Rabbi had come, sat at the head of the bed and murmured
Hebrew prayers in which, from time to time, the voice of old Esther on
the other side of the bed, joined.
At the foot stood Moses, motionless. He was leaning on the bed-posts,
looking at the patient. Not a muscle of his face twitched, his eyes
showed no sign of tears, his lips were firmly closed.
He turned as Hans stepped up to him and laid his cold right hand
in that of his friend; then he turned his face away again at once
and gazed once more at his sick father. He seemed to have grown a
head taller since his examination, the expression in his eyes was
indescribable,--to use a dreadful simile, it was as if the angel
of death were waiting for the last grain of sand to fall;--Moses
Freudenstein had gradually grown to be a handsome youth.
"Oh, God, Moses, speak! How did it happen? How did it happen so all of
a sudden?" whispered Hans.
"Who can tell!" said Moses, just as softly. "Two hours ago we were
sitting here quietly together and--and--he showed me all sorts of
papers that we were putting in order,--we have had various things to
put in order since yesterday--suddenly he groaned and fell off his
chair and now--there he lies. The doctor says he will never get up
again."
"Oh, how dreadful! I knocked at your door so often yesterday; why
didn't you want to let anyone in?"
"He didn't want to; he always was peculiar. He had made up his mind
that on the day when I should have passed my examination successfully
he would close his shop for ever. He did not want to have any witness,
anyone to disturb us when he showed me his secret chests and drawers.
He was a peculiar man and now his life will close with the shop,--who
would have thought it, who, indeed?"
The voice in which these words were spoken was dull and mournful; but
in Moses' eyes glittered something quite different from sorrow or
mourning. A secret gratification lay in them, a concealed triumph, the
certainty of a happiness which had suddenly revealed itself, which in
such plenitude he had not even dared to hope for and which for the
moment had still to be hidden under the dark cloak of decorous grief.
Let us see how the father and son had spent the time since the day
before and we shall be able to explain this glance which Moses
Freudenstein cast on his dying father.
In as great a state of excitement as the relatives of Hans Unwirrsch,
Master Samuel had awaited his son's return. He wandered restlessly
about the house and began to burrow among his effects, to open and
shut chests, to rummage through the most forgotten corners, as if he
wanted to hold a final review of his possessions and his thousand
different articles of trade. At the same time he talked to himself
unceasingly and although not a drop of spirituous liquor ever crossed
his lips, yet at the time when Uncle Grünebaum was leaning firmly
against the wall opposite the school-house, Samuel Freudenstein
seemed to be more intoxicated than he. The great resolve which he had
carried in his heart for so long and which was now about to be put
into execution affected him like strong drink. Toward eleven o'clock
he drove the housekeeper Esther out of the back room and bolted even
that door. He now brought to light mysterious keys, opened mysterious
drawers in his writing-table, creakingly unlocked a mysterious door
in a mysterious closet. There was a jingling as of gold and silver, a
rustling as of government bonds and other negotiable paper, and among
the jingling and the rustling Father Samuel's voice murmured:
"He was born in a dark corner, he will long for the light; he has sat
in a gloomy house, he will dwell in a palace. They have mocked him and
beaten him, he will repay them according to the law; an eye for an
eye and a tooth for a tooth! He is a good son and he has learnt what
a man needs in order to rise. He has not been impatient, he has sat
quietly over his books here at this table. He has done his work and I
have done mine. He shall find me here at this table where he has sat
quietly throughout his young life. Now he will go out into life, and
I will stay here; but my eyes will follow him on his way and he will
give me great joy. I have always followed him with my eyes, he is a
good son. Now he has grown to be a man and his father will have nothing
more in secret from him. Six hundred--seven hundred--two thousand--a
good son--may the God of our fathers bless him and his children and his
children's children."
The screaming, blessings and beseechings of Esther outside and a
knocking at the door drove the old man from his calculations and
thoughts onto his feet.
"God of Abraham, he is here!"
With a trembling hand he pushed back the bolt and clasped his son, who
was just entering, in his arms.
"Here he is! Here he is! My son, the son of my wife! Well, Moses,
speak, how did it go?"
Moses' face showed not a sign of change, he appeared cold, as always,
and calmly he held out his certificate to his father.
"I knew that they would have to write what they have written. They
probably made faces over it but they had to give me the first place.
Come now! Don't be ridiculous, Father; don't go mad, Esther. Oh say,
how they would like to have put that sentimental Hans over there ahead
of me, but they couldn't manage it; I knew it. By all the silly gods,
Father, what have you been doing this morning? Gold? Gold and no end of
it? What's that? What does that mean? Great God, where----"
He broke off and bent over the table. _That_ was a sight that entirely
destroyed his accustomed self-control, at least for a time.
"Yours! Yours! It is all yours!" cried his father. "I told you that I
would do my part if you did yours at the table there. That is not all!
Here! Here!"
The old man had rushed to the closet again and threw a few more
jingling bags on the black floor and a few more bundles of securities
on the table. His eyes glowed as with fever.
"You are equipped and armed, now raise your head. Eat when you are
hungry and reach out for everything that you desire. They will bring
it to you if you are wise; you will become a great man among the
strangers! Be wise on your way! Don't stand still, don't stand still,
don't stand still!"
The hanging globe in the house opposite reflected Samuel Freudenstein
as he hurried out, tore the Westphalian body-servant from his hook and
buried him in the depths of the shop; thus he closed his business for
ever,--the lackey had served as a sign for many things which had really
nothing to do with junk-dealing; it was not to be regretted that he
disappeared from Kröppel Street.
If only the glass globe of Master Anton Unwirrsch could have reflected
the figure of Moses Freudenstein as, during his father's short absence
he stood with folded arms in front of the richly burdened table! He was
pale and his lips twitched, he passed his finger tips over several of
the rows of gold-pieces and at their touch a slight tremor ran through
his body. A thousand thoughts chased one another through his brain with
the rapidity of lightning, but not one of them rose from his heart;
he did not think of the toil, the care, the--love that clung to this
piled-up wealth. He thought only of what his own attitude must be to
these riches which were suddenly thrust before him, of the changed
existence that would begin from this moment--for him. His cold heart
beat so violently that it almost caused him physical pain. It was an
evil moment in which Samuel Freudenstein announced to his son that he
was rich and that the latter would one day be so. From that moment a
thousand dark threads stretched out into the future; whatever was dark
in Moses' soul became still darker from this moment; nothing became
lighter; egoism raised its head menacingly and stretched out hungry
arms, like those of an octopus, to grasp the world.
In this headlong, wildly increasing tumult of thoughts his father's
existence no longer counted for anything, it was rubbed out as if it
had never been. Moses Freudenstein thought only of himself and when
his father's step sounded again behind him he started and clenched his
teeth.
Samuel Freudenstein had bolted the door; he had closed the shop and
thus also locked out the wide, lovely spring world, the blue sky, the
beautiful sun--woe to him!
He had nothing to do with the joyful sounds, the shining colors of
life, they would only have been in his way; he wanted to celebrate a
triumph in which he did not need them--woe to him! The gray dusk which
fell through the dirty panes of the back room sufficed perfectly for
him to lay his secret account book before his son and show him in what
way the wealth that he had spread out before him had been acquired.
The sun went down, but before taking his farewell, he flooded the world
with unequaled beauty; he smiled a parting greeting through every
window that he could reach; but he could not say farewell to poor
Samuel Freudenstein--woe to him!
Night came on and Esther carried the lighted lamp into the little back
room. The children were put to bed, the night watchman came; the older
people too disappeared from the benches before their front doors.
Everyone carried his cares to bed; but Samuel and Moses Freudenstein
counted and figured on, and it was not until the gray dawn that the
latter sank into a restless, feverish slumber only to start up again
almost as soon as he had closed his eyes. He did not wake like Hans
Unwirrsch; he woke with a cry of fear, stretched his hands out and
crooked his fingers as if something infinitely precious were being
torn from him, as if he were striving in deadly fear to hold it tight.
He sat upright in bed and stared about him, pressed his hands to his
forehead and then jumped up. Hastily he drew on his clothes and went
down into the back room where his father still lay asleep restlessly
murmuring disconnected sentences. The son stood before his father's bed
and his gaze wandered from his father's face to the empty table which
had lately been so richly burdened.
Oh, the hunger, the terrible hunger, by which Moses Freudenstein was
tormented, was consumed! Between the feast and the sufferer there stood
a superfluous something, the life of an old man. The son of this old
man gnashed his teeth--woe to you too, Moses Freudenstein!
How did the hour-glass from the pulpit of the Christian church come to
be in the shop? It was there and it stood beside the bed of the old man
on a shelf against the wall. In former years it had often served Moses
and Hans as a plaything and they had watched the sand ran through with
delight; it was long now since any hand had touched it, the spiders had
spun their webs about it; it was a useless thing. What notion could
suddenly have shot into the mind of the junk-dealer's son to make him
turn the hour-glass over now? A frightened spider scuttled up the wall;
the sand began to trickle down again and Samuel Freudenstein woke with
a start. He drew the bed-clothes close about him and felt under his
pillow for his bunch of keys; then he asked almost in a screech:
"What do you want, Moses? Is it you? What do you want? It's still
night!"
"It's bright daylight. Have you forgotten, Father, that we did not
finish yesterday? It is bright daylight; and you still have so much to
say to me."
The father glanced at the son, and then looked at him again. Then his
eye fell on the hour-glass.
"Why did you turn the glass over? Why do you wake me before it is day?"
"Oh come! You know, Father, that time is precious and runs away like
sand. Will you get up?"
The old man turned uneasily in his bed several times, and glanced ever
anew at his son, now searchingly, now fearfully, now angrily.
Moses had turned away and went to the writing table near the window;
the old man sat upright and drew up his knees. The sand in the glass
trickled down--down, and the old man's eyes became more and more fixed.
Had he had a dream during his short sleep and was now considering
whether this dream might not be truth; who could say? Had it become
clear to him all of a sudden that in giving his child the treasure that
he had concealed so long and so well he was giving him only darkness
and ruin? What a life he had led in order to be able to celebrate that
hour of triumph yesterday! Woe to him!
The son threw shifty glances over his shoulder at his father.
"What is the matter, Father? Are you not well?"
"Quite well, Moses, quite well. Be quiet, I will get up. Do not be
angry. Be quiet--that your days may be long upon earth."
He rose and dressed. Esther came with breakfast but she almost let the
tray fall when she looked into her old master's face.
"God of Israel! What is the matter, Freudenstein?"
"Nothing, nothing! Be quiet, Esther; it will pass."
He sat in his chair all morning without moving. His mouth alone moved,
but only once did an audible word cross his lips; he wanted them to
open the door and the shutters again.
"Why should Esther unlock the house?" asked Moses. "We want to finish
our business of yesterday first, and don't need people gaping and
listening."
"Be quiet, you are right, my son. It is well, Esther. Take the keys
from under my pillow, Moses."
The sand in the hour-glass had run through again; Moses Freudenstein
himself had unlocked the closet once more and was looking through the
papers. The old man did not move, but he followed his son's every
movement with his eyes and now and then started and shivered. Esther
had put an old cover about his shoulders; he was like a child that must
let everything be done for it.
Moses took out another bag of money; it slipped from his hands and fell
ringing on the floor, scattering part of its contents over the room.
With the ringing and jingling of the money a scream mingled that froze
one's blood.
"_Apoplexia spasmodica!_" said the doctor fifteen minutes later. "Hm,
hm--an unusual case in a man of his constitution!"
[Illustration: THE LETTER CARRIER
_Permission Franz Hanfstaengl_ KARL SPITZWEG]
SUMMARY OF CHAPTERS IX AND X
[Three days after the first shock a second apoplectic attack occurred
and Samuel Freudenstein died. On the way home from the cemetery Hans
sought to comfort his friend--quite unnecessarily, as all that occupied
the latter's mind was what his father had left. With the help of two
guardians he was able, within a few days to find out exactly what this
amounted to, and finally, after thoroughly rummaging through the shop,
he sold it again to another Semite. He sought to banish all remembrance
of his father; the hour-glass slipped from his hand and a kick sent the
fragments into a corner.
In the meantime his mother, "Auntie," and Uncle Grünebaum had done
their best to prepare Hans for his journey to the university. Hans bade
farewell to everybody and everything in Neustadt that he loved and
then, on a beautiful spring morning, started on his pilgrimage with
Moses. As they passed the door of the second-hand shop, they found
three old Jewish women there to whom Samuel had been charitable now
and then, and the housekeeper, Esther. They were waiting to give Moses
their blessings and good wishes, but he scorned them. They left the
thaler that he threw to them lying on the ground and half the prayer
that they sent after him was changed into a curse. Uncle Grünebaum,
with his dignified person and his beautiful speeches, accompanied the
two young people as far as the town gates.
On a height that afforded a last view of Neustadt the two wanderers
paused for a short time. Hans thought of all that he had experienced up
till then and of all the people that he had known, not excepting the
dead, such as his master, Silberlöffel, and little Sophie. Moses, on
the other hand, refused to think of those who had died and thought of
the living only with his superior, cynical smile. He hated the town of
Neustadt and finally roused Hans from his dreams by a mocking remark.
Similar scenes often recurred on their way, the last one when, on the
morning of the third day, they came in sight of the university town
lying at their feet. Hans would like to have taken off his shoes on the
holy ground while Moses gave characteristic expression to his opinion
by remarking that there must be many a bad egg or a blown one down
there in the little town.
Hans rented a little room from a shoemaker in the most remote and
cheapest corner of the town of the muses, while Moses established
himself in a house that looked on a beautiful public square opposite
the Gothic cathedral. His rooms were elegantly furnished and he showed
no disinclination for any of the exquisite enjoyments of life; the
humble cocoon from Neustadt brought forth a gay-colored, bright,
Epicurean butterfly that spread its wings with assurance and skill.
Hans entered himself as a student of theology while Moses joined the
philosophers. Hans entertained a humble veneration for the apostles
of wisdom and on every occasion Moses diabolically sought to trip up
this touching belief in authority. He acknowledged one professor's
good points only so as to be able to throw a stronger light on his
weaknesses; in the case of another he was pleased to find that at least
his moral reputation was not above reproach. But although Moses was
able to destroy much he was also able to give as much else. He got
himself books on all branches of learning and constructed for himself
a rather original system of objective logic; he diligently attended
lectures on law and for recreation he gave Hans instruction in Hebrew.
With subtle arguments he discussed with him God and the world, physics
and metaphysics, and proved to him that the Jews were still the chosen
people, for the successes that the other nations won they won for the
Jews too, whereas the latter were not concerned in other people's
defeats. Whenever the Jews did enter the struggle they did so of their
own free will, with no anxiety for the weal or woe of a nation, but
only to fight for spiritual values, for ideas.
Hans could meet such sophistry only with the greatest difficulty;
his talent did not lie in that direction. Even his first semester
showed him that he was better fitted for practical than theoretical
theology; in fact, the professor of homiletics was not satisfied with
his achievements even in that subject. His pupil's oratory contained
too much "poesie," too much enthusiasm for nature, even an odor of
pantheism. Hence Hans liked best to preach his sermons in the open
air, under a tall oak, on a narrow meadow in the woods where the birds
listened to him with more tolerance than did his professor.
Hans always went home in the holidays and each time he entered with
a clearer head and a larger heart into the small circle of his dear
ones. Moses, however, remained in the university town and each time,
when lectures began again, he came out of his rooms more sarcastic and
sceptical than before. Finally the last semester drew near. Hans was
to take his examination at home as a candidate in theological science.
Moses wrote a capital doctor's dissertation on "Matter as an Element
of the Divine," and defended his views by gradually turning the thesis
round and making of the Divine an element of matter. Quite carelessly
one evening after he had taken his degree Moses told Hans that he was
going to Paris the day after tomorrow, as he wanted to learn to swim
there. He went on to say that Germany was nothing but a beach from
which the tide had receded but he had not yet lost his feeling for
the open sea and wanted to find more extensive waters in which to try
his fins. To Hans' great astonishment and regret Moses really did go
to Paris and left the friend of his youth alone behind him. A great
void was made in Hans' life, but before the end of the semester he
received a letter which showed him that even greater voids might appear
in his life. This letter came from Uncle Grünebaum and announced that
his mother was very ill. As soon as he had recovered from his first
stupefaction Hans packed his certificates and few belongings and left
the university to go to Neustadt, to the deathbed of his mother.]