"He became my friend, especially during the last few months, when he
gave me lessons in philosophy, and introduced me to the ideas of the
great thinkers."
"He loves you, Rita?"
She looked at him with moist eyes, and said in a low voice: "He has
never told me so."
"Who could live near you and not love you? But he is carved out of the
stuff of which martyrs are made."
Involuntarily they both looked at Henry who was approaching with Hugo.
* * * * *
A few days before the Passover festival the excitement and bustle apt to
precede great events took possession of the little town of Rawitsch. The
preparations for the celebration of the ninetieth birthday of Leopold
Friedlaender were in full swing. Mrs. Benas and her daughter Rita had
been upon the scene of action for three days. They had personally
directed the preparations, and assisted their relatives. Mrs. Benas was
staying with her cousin Rebecca Strelitz, the oldest daughter of Uncle
Leopold. On the day after her arrival, she astonished all Rawitsch by
appearing at the market with Rebecca and Friederike, the second
daughter, who had married Meyer Pinkus, a city alderman. They were
accompanied by the cook, whom she had sent from Berlin a week before.
"The Frau Geheimraetin deigned to superintend, in her own person, the
buying of turkeys and ducks and geese," the poulterer had reported at
the _Minchah_ service. What could not be had in the little village had
been ordered from Berlin; and under the direction of Uncle Leopold's
daughter-in-law Hannah, at whose house the celebration was to take
place, baking and preserving and the preparing of all sorts of
delicacies had been busily going on for several days, in a kitchen
especially fitted out for the occasion. To Rita and to two young girls
from Breslau and Mannheim,--who had also come with their mothers, the
granddaughters of Uncle Leopold,--the life in the little village seemed
extraordinary. The great-niece as well as the great-grandchildren had
been raised under entirely different circumstances, and all the
ceremonial customs observed in preparation for the week of the Passover
by the entire community, but especially in the homes of their relatives,
were new and strange to them. On the last evening before the beginning
of the Passover they had been present at the _Chometz batteln_. The
venerable old man took the lead, carrying a taper, some quills, and a
large cooking spoon. He was followed by his seventy-year-old son Isidor
and his wife. Thus they all went through the entire house in order to
remove the last vestiges of leaven. Rita was especially impressed with
the seriousness with which this was undertaken, and with the extreme
significance attached to these customs. The participants clearly laid
greater store by the Passover than by the anniversary celebration. The
religious observance took precedence of the personal. During the day
many more of the relatives arrived, among them several members of the
family from the Russian city of Pinsk. They were adherents of the old
Orthodoxy, with even a strong leaning in some of them toward Chassidism.
They had accepted the hospitality of a distant relative who was
especially pious. At the inn, "The Golden Swan," the guests from Munich
and Vienna were lodged; and on the afternoon of the next day, all the
rest were expected, among them Mr. Benas, Hugo, and Dr. Weilen. The tall
poulterer, so-called because of his vocation of judging live poultry,
was the chronicler of the village, and Shmul Weissbacher, who was called
"Rebbe on the contrary," because he always took opposite sides from the
person who spoke to him, ran from house to house spreading the latest
news; the former circulating a rumor, the latter denying the report. The
excitement in the community grew from hour to hour.
In order to make sufficient room for the table, two large chambers had
been thrown into one by the removal of the partition.
The poulterer reported that they were taking out the walls of the house,
while "Rebbe on the contrary" declared they weren't tearing down the
walls at all, merely a bit of boarding between the rooms.
At all events Mrs. Benas's scheme furnished an appropriate apartment.
The big room looked decidedly inviting, with its decorations of white
bunting and green pine boughs. Adjoining was the spacious "best room" of
the house; here the large doors dividing the rooms had been removed, and
the tables so disposed as to form one large banquet board. The general
effect was fine.
At twilight the guests assembled for the Seder. The Geheimrat, who
arrived somewhat early to consult with his wife, still occupied with her
arrangements, was most agreeably surprised.
"You have managed splendidly," he said, gallantly kissing his wife's
hand. "Truly, wonderfully!"
Everybody agreed with him, when, after greeting the head of the family,
they sat down to the table. It was covered with fine white damask, and
literally glistened with silver and glass. The wine sparkled in
magnificently cut caraffes. It had come with the pale oranges from the
colonies of the Holy Land. Everything was arranged most effectively. The
Geheimrat had kept his word, and had sent such costly, handsome silver
that it might have served for the table of a prince. And like a prince
Leopold Friedlaender sat among his own. To-day the modest, honest,
unassuming man was a king; not only the king of the family celebration,
but the king of a religious festival.
In a robe of white, once his wedding costume, and later to be used as
his shroud, a white cap bound with a wide silver band resting on his
snow-white hair, he sat supported by soft pillows, covered with white
embroidery. At his side sat his daughter-in-law, Hannah, in a grey
brocade dress, with a heavy golden chain about her neck, and a cap of
ivory-white lace bedecked with lilac ribbons pressed low on her
forehead, the traditional head-dress of strictly orthodox Jewesses.
Friederike and Rebecca, her two oldest daughters, likewise wore caps,
of more modern fashion however. The relatives from Pinsk still clung to
the old fashion of the silk _Sheitel_, with which a married Jewess
entirely conceals her hair, replacing her natural adornment by costly
jewels. Strands of pearls were wound about their heads. In fact all the
Russian members of the family displayed such a wealth of diamonds and
jewels that Mr. Benas could hardly suppress a smile of amusement.
The husbands of the two ladies from Pinsk were attired in long silk
caftans, and side-curls escaped on each cheek from beneath their caps.
In contrast to these were the elegant modern gowns worn by the rest of
the family. The young women were arrayed in light airy dresses, and
their coiffures--brown or blonde or reddish or deep black,--suggested
Botticelli pictures. The men were in full dress.
And the company was no less diverse in its composition than in the
appearance of its members. Along with the representatives of the old
Judaism, which had maintained itself unchanged for centuries, all shades
and grades of belief were represented. There were the orthodox, the
pious, the conservative, the liberal, the reformed,--and an apostate!
Similarly, all social stations were represented: high officials, an
Oberverwaltungsrat, and an attorney-general from Munich--descended from
the South German branch of the Friedlaenders--professors, physicians,
lawyers, engineers, manufacturers, and merchants. There was lacking only
a representative of the rabbis. There were several in the family; but
they had been prevented from coming because of the necessity of
officiating during the holidays. Among the younger generation there were
gifted youths of studious habits, two Bavarian officers and an Austrian
officer in uniform; barristers, assessors, engineers, tradesmen, and
even those who had learnt a craft, and yet there was harmony in this
composite picture,--a harmony created by the common sentiment
possessing all in this hour.
Leopold Friedlaender drew the large silver Seder platter towards him. It
was decorated with the symbolic dishes of the service. The golden shells
at the four corners contained the Charoseth, the bitter herbs, the egg
roasted in ashes, and the salt water. In the middle were the Matzoth
covered with a white silk cloth, on which were embroidered, in gold,
lions supporting the shield of David worked in silver and jewels. Under
this stood the blessings in Hebrew letters. A granddaughter had executed
this beautiful bit of needlework. And now the treble voice of a
five-year-old boy, the son of a great-great-grandchild of the patriarch,
was heard saying the first words of the Haggadah: "_Mah nishtaneh
ha-Layloh hazeh?_" This little boy, sitting at the table of his
ancestors, was the representative of the fifth living generation. He
traced his ancestry directly back to the Rabbis Eliezer and Akiba
Friedlaender, known as learned and high-minded men, whose virtues and
piety, attainments and generosity, had brought honors to them, not only
from the Jews, but also from those of other faiths. When little Jacob,
in childlike tones, but clearly and distinctly asked the prescribed
question, was Leopold Friedlaender thinking of his father and
grandfather? For he bent over his Haggadah, and tears flowed from his
weary old eyes.
Deep emotion took hold of the company. They all looked from the old man
to the child,--who was staring about him with wide-open eyes and with
unsuspecting curiosity,--and then again from the child to the old man.
All sorts of questions and ideas crowded into the minds of the guests.
The old Judaism and the new,--how would they exist together? Peacefully
and quietly as in this hour? And would youth listen devoutly when age
taught the lessons from the history of the race? Would the young people
of the future gather about the patriarchs? Would they leave the busy
life, the gay bustle of existence, its struggles, and its duties in
search of consecration and peace? Such a miracle was happening in this
simple Jewish home. In a spirit of reverence they followed the recital
of the Haggadah, as the patriarch intoned in a feeble but impressive
voice, the queer, outlandish, Talmudic, and casuistic interpretations of
the festival. And when, with trembling hands, he filled the tall silver
beaker with the wine destined for the prophet Elijah, he rose in his
chair, and with the expression of religious faith imprinted upon his
aged features, exclaimed, _Leshonoh habooh bi-Yerusholoyim_, a spirit of
awe descended upon the company. No one seemed able for the moment to
throw off the inspiring impression, not even those who failed to share
the hopes expressed in the prayer.
Hugo Benas was most deeply affected. "So it must be," he whispered to
his mother, who sat next to him. "Though worlds apart in their views,
in standards of life, in position, in culture, they are united by ties
of race. And wherever Jews live in this way, a spiritual Zion will
arise, as here, in this humble abode."
* * * * *
The assembled relatives had drawn close together during these holidays.
Points of contact had appeared, the old bonds had been renewed, new ones
had been formed; and with complacency they told one another of the many
members of the family who had attained high positions in civil life.
Honor was paid to those who had kept the religious traditions
uncontaminated. Undisturbed harmony reigned, and not even Victor Weilen
formed a discordant element. Curiously enough, one of the Pinsker kin,
who knew nothing of Victor's apostasy (for the subject had not been
referred to), was most attracted to him; and Victor questioned the
pious and intelligent man about the condition of the Jews in Russia. It
was of interest to him to hear how the old orthodoxy had been preserved
there, and had become a factor in politics, in which, despite their
religious segregation, the Jews were necessarily involved. Mr. Benas,
however, could not resist a good-humored yet slightly satirical remark,
when he repeatedly saw these two men together. "Under the shelter of the
Patriarch, the orthodox and the apostate come together," he said to
Hugo, who responded: "That is Zion."
With these impressions fresh in mind, the Benases returned home; and as
a result of their influence the union of Weilen with Rita was not
opposed, not even by Hugo. Since the evening on which Dr. Weilen had so
freely stated his views concerning colonization, Hugo had been less
distant toward him, and in the course of time the relation between them
grew in cordiality. They had discussed the Jewish question repeatedly,
and Hugo was always agreeably impressed by the man's calm, his lack of
prejudice, and his sincerity. Such qualities counted doubly in his case.
They had also touched upon his change of belief, and Dr. Weilen had said
in regard to it: "The new belief that I adopted could give me nothing,
just as the loss of the other had taken nothing from me, because I was
not devout in this sense; and that liberated me, and it keeps me free
even to-day, as a mature man, to acknowledge and associate myself with
those to whom I am attached by a bond which has a deeper hold than this
or that rite or ceremony can possibly have."
And when Hugo saw him so full of tact, taking a cordial interest in all
who flocked about the patriarch, on the spot that since then he called
"Zion," he had taken him into his young heart, readily fired with
enthusiasm. He understood his sister's love for this man, and he no
longer resisted the inevitable outcome: that she should become his wife
according to the laws of the land in which they lived. But then ...
then!
The engagement was celebrated privately. On the evening of its
announcement, when the family was gathered together, the Geheimrat, who
had feared Hugo's impetuous disposition, and who now saw him consent so
joyously, gave him a great surprise, too. This day on which his daughter
was to be made so happy, should also be of special significance to his
son. He announced to Hugo that he was ready to interest himself in the
colonies in Palestine, and to help them financially. With overflowing
gratefulness Hugo flung his arms about his father, and kissed and
fondled his mother. Rita and Victor declared that they regarded this
decision as their finest betrothal gift.
Hugo was happy. "Then I may dedicate myself entirely to these aims? When
I have passed my final examinations?" he said, half in question and half
in decision.
Mr. Benas frowned slightly: "That means I must give not only my
millions but also my son to the cause?" The words sounded good-humored,
yet as though he were making fun of himself. "That is building Utopia at
heavy expense to me."
"Zion, father, Zion, wherever it may be."
"_Noblesse oblige_," Mrs. Benas interrupted. "That was the lesson of our
visit to Uncle Leopold's, those memorable days under the shelter of the
Patriarch."
"Mamma is right," said Victor. "And if all Jews thought and acted as you
have done, dear father, then happiness and hope would find lodging even
among the unfortunate members of our persecuted race, and blessings
would spring up. Where? Well, the world is so big and so great....
Civilization is so eager to conquer, and Israel so persistent and
enduring."
His tone was cordial, convincing, and soothing.
Involuntarily Rita stepped to his side, and he drew her gently to him.
"And he who speaks thus, father, is--"
"He is the _fiance_ of our daughter, of your sister, Hugo," Mr. Benas
quickly interrupted.
* * * * *
It was spring time. In beauty and splendor the spring had taken
possession of the earth! In youth, joy, and glory everything seemed
changed, and awakened to new life by the sweet kisses of the sun. Lovers
are peculiarly sensitive to such joy. Entranced, Rita and Victor were
looking out from the terrace of the house upon the park, which, in its
green attire, lay before them in Easter splendor. Victor had taken
Rita's hand, and held it in silent happiness.
Hugo approached them with two open letters in his hand.
"Mother said I should find you here."
"Is it not beautiful here, Hugo?" asked his sister. "At this time of the
year Berlin always seems wonderful to me, especially out here. How
glorious it is!"
He paid no attention to her remarks and said: "I looked for you to show
you these letters, one from Henry, and the other...." He looked at one
of the letters. "Elkish informs me that he has decided to retire."
Her expression became sad: "We might have foreseen that," she said in a
low voice.
"He wishes to return with his sister to his home in Lissa."
"What does father say?"
"He feels he must accept the resignation, and will, of course, allow him
a proper pension."
Victor had listened in silence to the conversation between sister and
brother.
"Is he an old retainer of your house?"
Rita nodded assent.
"Is he going because I have come? Does his fanaticism drive him away?"
"Perhaps, but may be he is worn out."
It was apparent from the tone of her voice that she herself had no faith
in her reassuring words.
"O no," said Hugo, "he goes because he can no longer comprehend us, so
he writes, and he does not wish to make the leave-taking hard,
therefore...."
"He does not wish to see me again?" Rita cried out in pain.
Superiority was sharply expressed in his countenance, strong
self-consciousness, untempered by sympathy. Rita looked at Weilen as
though to beg his pardon, while Hugo's serious eyes gazed into vacancy.
For several minutes there was silence, then Dr. Weilen asked: "And what
does your friend Rosenfeld write?"
Hugo breathed freely, as if a burden had been lifted from off his soul.
"He! He wishes you joy from the bottom of his heart. He is delighted to
hear that Rita is happy." Then he looked over the letter as if searching
for a particular passage. "Here: 'I thank you for the news of your
sister's engagement. Such a girl's choice can only bring happiness, and
make her happy; for truth and purity are united in her, and such
natures as hers are sure to find what is right. What little I know of
Dr. Weilen warrants this assurance. Dr. Weilen seems to me a man of deep
insight and fine feeling, in whom strength and tenderness go
together--qualities desirable in the husband of a highly intellectual
woman like Rita. Devout in her tender soul and tolerant in her clear
head, that is her personality. Her mission is to minister to the
happiness of one individual. But as for us, we must think of the common
weal, and to it we will dedicate our strength and our blood. And now let
us set forth on the road, even though it be wearisome. Let us be up and
doing.... Let us labor in behalf of our co-religionists." He folded the
letter. "Yes, that shall be our mission."
Mr. and Mrs. Benas had stepped into the door and stood looking at their
children. They had overheard Hugo's last words, and they appreciated the
solemnity of the moment. And the consummation of their hopes was
glorified by the soft, golden radiance of the spring.