Here was an utterly inexplicable case. It was not that the
scissors-grinder’s physiognomy did not contain a feature that suggested
the Semite—that was common enough, especially among Russian Jews; but
what might be called the psychology of the case was utterly baffling to
Mendel. He had often met Jews that were well educated and spoke a number
of languages with fluency, but in all his experience he had never come
across one who had not at least some, however slight, acquaintance with
the Jewish mother tongues, Yiddish or Hebrew. He had frequently come in
contact with Jews, well and gently reared in their native lands, who had
been forced by adverse circumstances to earn their bread by humble labor
in America; but they had invariably found employment in some one of the
so-called “Jewish” branches of industry, tailoring, cloak-making,
cigar-packing, or the like, which open at least the door to a future as
an independent manufacturer or merchant. But something so plebeian and
hopeless as scissors-grinding, and embraced, too, by a man of evident
refinement—why, that was utterly anomalous, unheard of! He gazed at the
scissors-grinder without uttering a word, but with eyes which told
unmistakably their tale of amazement.
“You are surprised,” said the latter, “I suppose, because I, though a
Jew, do not speak Yiddish, and because I found nothing better to do than
to sharpen scissors and knives. Let me tell you my story and you will
wonder no longer. I can recollect very little of my earliest childhood.
My mother must have died, I think, when I was hardly more than an
infant, for all I can recollect of her is a picture, very dim and faint,
of a sweet, motherly face bending over me and of a tender, loving voice
calling me darling and dove. My father, too, must have left this earth
when I was only about four or five years of age. My memories of him,
too, are few and indistinct. I can recall that I was a very small child
in charge of an old, cross-tempered woman, a Jewess, I think, who
treated me with a strange alternation of cruelty and kindness. My father
used to visit me at rare intervals in this place, and bring me
sweetmeats and little presents, and I can remember that on these
occasions he was always dressed in a brilliant uniform, which filled my
childish heart with admiration and awe. My most distinct recollection
concerning my father is of the circumstances attending his death. He was
brought to the house one day with blood-stained bandages around his head
and breast and with face ghastly pale. They laid him upon a couch, and
for several days physicians came to treat him, and men dressed in even
brighter and finer uniforms than his came to visit him, and some of them
chucked me under the chin and called me a fine little fellow. Then one
day he called me to his bedside and said to me, in such a faint voice
that I had to put my ear to his mouth in order to catch his words:
‘Eliezer, my darling boy, I am going to die and must leave you alone in
the world. But I have spoken to good people, and they have promised me
to care for you and to see that you are educated to become what your
father was—a soldier—but a higher and nobler one than he could be.
Always be good and honorable in all your doings, and above all, my son,
never forget, wherever you may be or whatever you may become, that you
are a Jew, as your father was, and never permit anything to swerve you
from your faithfulness to the holy traditions of our religion and
people.’ Then he kissed me on my brow, and, child though I was, I knew
that something dreadful was going to happen, and burst forth into an
agony of bitter weeping that shook my little frame convulsively. That
same night he died, and the day after the next he was taken away in the
midst of a great concourse of people, among whom were many Jewish men
and women whom I knew not, and who wept and cried aloud as they
accompanied the funeral procession. There was also a long line of
soldiers, who marched with flags draped and guns reversed, and in front
of whom went musicians and drummers with crape-covered drums, who played
together a sad, funereal strain as they marched. I was left behind,
gazing out of the window at the funeral procession as long as it was in
sight, weeping as though my very heart would break and feeling that I
was left all alone now in the world, without friend, protector, or
well-wisher. But the same afternoon a kindly spoken, friendly looking
officer, attired in a brilliant uniform, came to my lodgings, told the
old woman who had charge of me that he was Col. Ivan Mentchikoff, and
that he had been appointed legal guardian of Corporal Schwartzfeld’s son
and had come to take me away. I noticed that the old woman did not seem
satisfied, and grumbled something to herself with a discontented air,
but she did not audibly object, but took the money which the colonel
offered her. She then packed together my little belongings, carried them
down to the carriage which was waiting at the door, and the colonel and
I entered and drove off to the railroad station, whence we left for the
colonel’s home, which was in the town of Yellisavetgrad, many miles
away. I remained with the family of the colonel for eight or nine years.
I was treated with the utmost kindness—in fact, in all regards, except
one, exactly like the children of the family. Colonel Mentchikoff was
very particular in regard to the education of his children. He kept the
best of private tutors for all subjects, and was especially insistent
that they should learn all the chief European languages, a knowledge of
which, he declared, was essential to a Russian gentleman. I had, of
course, the advantage of all this, the same as all the others, and I
quickly discovered that I had a special linguistic talent, and, while I
easily kept pace with the Mentchikoff boys and girls in all the subjects
of instruction generally, as regards the acquisition of languages I was
so superior that I could not be compared with them at all. It was no
trouble at all to me to acquire a new language; the forms seemed to
impress themselves naturally on my mind, and my memory retained with the
greatest ease the multitudes of new terms and expressions which each
tongue presented.
[Illustration:
I WAS LEFT BEHIND, GAZING OUT OF THE WINDOW AT THE FUNERAL PROCESSION.
_Page 196_]
“The point in which my education differed from that of my companions was
that of religion. Colonel Mentchikoff was a zealous adherent of the
Greek Church, and insisted that his children should be instructed in its
doctrine, and also that they should attend worship regularly in the
beautiful church of the town. I was exempted from both these
requirements, but, as he did not forbid my attendance at them, I formed
the habit of being of my own accord present at the lessons in religion
which a certain pope gave them twice weekly, and I was frequently
present at service in the church on Sundays and feast days. Hebrew
instruction I did not receive, and was, to my shame I must confess,
utterly ignorant of the teachings of the religion in which I was born
and to which my father, on his dying bed, had adjured me to be faithful.
I did not, however, feel at all attracted to the teachings of Greek
Christianity. My attendance at church and lessons was induced solely by
curiosity, and I often found myself smiling contemptuously at the things
my companions were obliged to learn and believe. As I knew and kept
nothing of Judaism either, I suppose I must have been classed at that
time as a youthful heathen.
“After I had been about two years in Colonel Mentchikoff’s house he told
me my father’s story and the reason why he, the colonel, was so friendly
to me. My father, it seems, had been a soldier in the Russian army most
of his life, and had attracted attention because of his gallantry and
fidelity. He had taken part in many battles in the Caucasus and had
risen to the rank of corporal, which was as high as an uneducated man
and a Jew could aspire. In a fierce hand-to-hand struggle in one of
those battles he had saved the life of Colonel Mentchikoff, who had
then, impelled by gratitude, asked him in what way he could recompense
him for the great service he had rendered him. My father, blessed be his
memory, who was as unassuming and modest as he was brave, answered that
he desired no recompense for himself, as he had only done his duty in
defending his commander, but that he had an only child, a son, whose
mother had died while he was yet an infant, and that he, my father,
desired, in case he met his death in the war, that the colonel should
see that the boy was cared for and properly educated, and if in future
years the intolerant laws should be changed and it would be permitted to
Jews to become military officers, that he should endeavor to have him
admitted to the military academy and prepared for the martial career.
All this the colonel had willingly promised, and thought it but a slight
reward for the saver of his life.
“Shortly after my father received his death wound at the hand of one of
the savage warriors of the Caucasus. He was brought, at his own urgent
request, to the house where his little son was living in charge of an
old nurse, to pass the few remaining days of his existence; and when he
had died he received, in consideration of his exceptional merit, the
distinguished honor of a great military funeral. The colonel, had then
taken formal charge of me, and ever since I had resided in his home. The
colonel assured me that he loved me dearly, for the sake of my father,
whose memory he held sacred, and that he would do all in his power to
promote my welfare and to assist me to embrace the military career as my
father had desired. He was as good as his word. Until my fourteenth year
he cared for me in the most liberal and kind-hearted manner, providing
equally well for my physical and intellectual needs, and then, since I
had reached the age when youths, intending to take up the military
career must begin their studies, he procured my admission into the
Imperial Military Academy at St. Petersburg. The illiberal laws
prohibiting the conferring of commissions on Hebrews had not, it is
true, been formally abrogated, but the spirit of tolerance was abroad in
the land; it was in the days of the good Czar Alexander II., who had in
so many ways alleviated the lot of all the oppressed peoples of his
realm, and so my kind protector and guardian met with no difficulties or
discouragements in seeking my admission into the academy. On the
contrary, the officials of the institution were exceedingly kind and
sympathetic. They received me with open arms as the orphan son of the
gallant Corporal Schwartzfeld, of whose heroic record they were well
aware, and as the ward of the well-connected and influential Colonel
Mentchikoff. The fact of my being a Hebrew was hardly referred to, or,
if any casual mention thereof was made, it was accompanied with the
statement that that would undoubtedly make no difference in my case, and
that, in view of my exceptional recommendations, I need anticipate no
difficulty in obtaining a satisfactory appointment when once I had
completed my course.
“I took leave of my benefactors with tears and embraces—and to this day
I cannot think of Colonel Mentchikoff and his good, kind family without
being deeply moved, for they were noble, true-hearted people, and very
good to me—and took up my studies at the military academy. I will not
refer at length to my career at the military academy, for now it makes
no difference whether I did well or poorly, and, besides, it were
foolish for the poor scissors-grinder to boast of the past glories of
his life. Suffice it to say that I more than held my own in every branch
of instruction, and made, besides, a specialty of three subjects. I
devoted myself with great zeal to the pursuit of military engineering
and languages, and also sought to acquire an expert knowledge of the
manufacture and preparation of weapons, both of those which cut and
those which discharge projectiles. The latter two branches of knowledge
I pursued with the idea that they would be particularly useful if ever I
became a member of the general staff or obtained some high military
political post, when a knowledge of languages, particularly of the
Slavonic tongues, and ability to criticise the quality of weapons
furnished to the army would be invaluable. I thought of myself as a
soldier, and a soldier only. To other matters I hardly devoted a
thought, so absorbed was I in my preparations for my prospective
vocation—least of all to religious loyalty or Hebraic traditions. During
all the seven years of my attendance at the military academy I never
entered a synagogue—in fact, I would not have known what to do had I
gone there, for I was utterly ignorant of Hebrew and knew nothing of the
mode or manner of worship among the Jews; I never kept a Jewish holiday,
never was present at a religious gathering of any kind, for I had given
up also my former curiosity concerning Christianity; I did not associate
with or even know any Hebrew; in short, to all intents and purposes, I
forgot that I was a Jew or had any need to consider the question of my
relation to my ancestral faith, and my friends and colleagues at the
academy, who were all very liberal-minded and tolerant, did not remind
me of it in any way. Personally I was popular with both teachers and
students, and, when the last year of the course began, I received an
unofficial intimation from the faculty that, on account of my
exceptional proficiency in technical matters, I would be recommended for
appointment after graduation as a captain of engineers.
“At last the day of days, long looked for—commencement—arrived. I had
passed a splendid examination and was designated valedictorian of the
class. The great _aula_ or hall of the academy was filled to overflowing
with a brilliant and distinguished assemblage, among them brave men and
fair women, bearers of the proudest and most ancient names in Russia. At
the front of the hall facing the stage sat, in two long rows, the
graduates, in their natty uniforms, among them myself. At the front of
the stage, at a table on which were flowers, the graduates’ diplomas,
and other papers, sat the venerable General Popoff, president of the
academy, and behind him the faculty and a large number of honored
visitors. Just before the hour appointed for the beginning of the
ceremonies, an orderly entered the hall, strode up to General Popoff,
saluted in regulation military fashion, handed him a note, saluted
again, and retired. I do not know why it was, but a shiver of
apprehension went through me as I saw this action. I felt instinctively
that it concerned me and boded me no good. The General opened the
letter, my eyes mustering him painfully the while, and I could see him
start as he read its contents. For a moment he sat with his head resting
on his hands, evidently plunged in deep thought. Then he summoned an
attendant and spoke a few words to him. A moment later the attendant
stood at my side.
“‘The General desires to speak to you in the room at the side of the
stage,’ he said.
“The hot blood surged impetuously to my head and my heart beat violently
as I entered the room whither I had been summoned. General Popoff was
already in and looked at me pityingly as I entered. ‘At your command,
General,’ I said, concealing my agitation with a mighty effort and
saluting stiffly. The General did not answer, but handed me a paper,
evidently the letter which he had just received. It was an official
communication, bore the governmental seal, and read as follows:
“‘MINISTRY OF WAR.
“‘_To General Alexei Popoff, President of the Imperial Military
Academy._
“‘SIR: The receipt of your report certifying to the cadets entitled
to graduation and recommending the same to various appointments in
the army is hereby acknowledged. The same is approved, and you are
authorized to issue certificates of graduation to all the cadets
therein named, with the exception of Cadet Schwartzfeld. In his case
there appears to be some doubt whether he has been properly baptized
in the Orthodox Church, and you are hereby ordered to withhold his
certificate until you have convinced yourself that such is the case.
“‘In the name of the Minister,
“‘KRASNEWITZ, _Secretary_.’
“I read the note through two or three times. Its contents seemed to burn
themselves with letters of fire into my brain. I looked at the General.
He did not say anything and appeared deeply agitated. At last I forced
myself to address him, and my voice sounded strangely harsh and metallic
as I spoke:
“‘What is to be done in this matter, your Excellency?’ I said.
“‘My dear boy,’ said the General, and the true note of sympathy rang in
his voice, ‘I sent in my report over a month ago, and, not receiving any
answer, I thought everything was well and that I could go ahead. I did
not think this would happen. There is only one thing that you can do.
You must go and have yourself baptized in the orthodox faith, or else
you can receive neither your certificate nor your appointment, and your
career is at an end.’
“‘But how about this evening’s affair?’ I said, and the whole world
seemed reeling about me. ‘Am I not to receive my certificate? Am I not
to deliver my valedictory?’
“‘Strictly speaking, you should not be permitted to do either,’ said the
General, and his voice sounded even more sympathetic than before; ‘but I
should be sorry to see you suffer public humiliation. I will tell you
what I can do. If you will promise me that to-morrow you will go and be
baptized, I will accept your word of honor and you shall receive your
certificate and deliver your address. But you must answer me at once,’
and he glanced at his watch, ‘for the hour is growing late and the
proceedings must soon begin.’
“My brain seemed to become paralyzed and to lose all power of thought as
I listened to the General’s words, kindly spoken, but, oh, so bitter to
me. My heart struck at my breast as though it would burst its confines.
I longed to give the answer the General desired, but the figure of my
dying father, lying outstretched upon his couch of suffering, rose
suddenly before me; again I saw his pale face and blood-stained
bandages, and again I heard his faint voice saying, ‘Above all, my son,
never forget that you are a Jew, and never permit anything to swerve you
from your faithfulness to the holy traditions of our religion and
people’—and I could not.
“‘I cannot give you that promise now, your Excellency,’ I said, in a
broken voice, whose agonized groaning was perceptible even to me. ‘I
must have time to think over the matter.’
“‘In that case,’ said the General, and his voice sounded distinctly
harder, ‘I must ask you to leave the hall, where your presence has
become improper; and any time you are ready to take the necessary steps
you can notify me, and I will see to it that you receive your
certificate and appointment.’
“I saluted and retired. I went to my seat, took my military cap, and,
without saying a word to my fellow-students, at once left the hall,
though I could not fail to notice the buzz of astonishment from both
cadets and audience as I strode through the aisle toward the door. That
night on my couch I fought a fiercer battle than any in which I could
ever have taken part had I been privileged to enter upon my projected
career. Two opposing forces were arrayed against each other and
contended fiercely—on the one side self-interest and the disappointment,
naturally intense, at seeing an ardently desired career thus cruelly cut
off, nipped not even in the bud; on the other side filial devotion and a
newly awakened sense of racial and religious loyalty. The one said: ‘Why
ruin yourself? What does Judaism concern you? You have never observed
its precepts. Let them sprinkle the three drops over you. It is only the
ticket of admission to your future. Inwardly you can remain as you are.’
The other said little. It was only the pale face of my dying father and
his faint voice speaking: ‘Above all, my son, never forget that you are
a Jew, and never permit anything to swerve you from your faithfulness to
the holy traditions of our religion and people.’
“All night long the battle raged, while I tossed on my weary couch and
never closed an eye; but when the early morning light stole through my
lattice, my father had won the victory. I rose, hastily made my toilet,
and wrote a letter to the General, informing him that my decision had
been made to remain loyal to my faith, even at the cost of my career. On
the same day I packed together my belongings and left forever that
Russia that had grown hateful to me. I sailed at once for America, the
land where men are free and where the State does not ask what is a man’s
descent or religion before permitting him to consecrate his services to
it. In New York I found that my talents and knowledge did not avail in
securing a position. Every place seemed filled and there was no lack of
people of education looking unsuccessfully for work. But, fortunately, I
understood the art of sharpening and tempering steel blades, and thus I
became a knife-sharpener and scissors-grinder, and manage to support
myself. Now you know why I am in New York, a scissors-grinder and a Jew,
instead of being in Russia, a captain of engineers and a Christian. Can
I sharpen anything else for you to-day? No, next time; all right,
good-bye.”
And the scissors-grinder went forth in search of other customers,
merrily whistling the while and leaving Mendel Greenberger behind,
plunged in deep reflection.
THE SHLEMIHL.
Novo-Kaidansk was a most _shlemihlig_ sort of place, and Yerachmiel
Sendorowitz was the most _shlemihlig_ of all its inhabitants. Indeed,
his character as such was so pronounced and universally known that he
was seldom referred to by his proper cognomen, but usually spoken of as
“Yerachmiel Shlemihl,” or, in shorter form, “the _Shlemihl_.” For the
benefit of those of my readers who are not familiar with the
Judæo-German idiom, I will explain that the noun “_Shlemihl_” is
generally supposed to be a corruption of the first name of Shelumiel ben
Zuri-shaddai, one of the princes of Israel in the wilderness, of whom
Heine has sung, and who, according to Jewish tradition, was a most
awkward sort of fellow, who was continually getting into all sorts of
scrapes. The noun “_Schlemihl_,” accordingly, signifies an aggravated
sort of ne’er-do-well, a hopeless incapable; and the adjective derived
therefrom is synonymous with all that is utterly unprogressive and
wretched.
[Illustration:
THE MAN WAS A WOE-BEGONE SPECIMEN OF HUMANITY, WITH HUNGRY EYES GAZING
AT YOU OUT OF A CARE-WORN, FURROWED COUNTENANCE
_Page 212_]