frequently, and was rather weary of it, “what is the use of telling me
all that again and again. I know as well as you that being a Jew is the
chief hindrance to my progress. But what is the use of continually
harping on it. I cannot change what I am; so why kick in vain against
the unalterable?”
“But it is not unalterable,” said Frau Ottilie, with even more acerbity
than the sense of her old and keenly felt grievance usually aroused.
“You talk as though to be a Jew was the same as being a negro, or a
Chinaman, or blind, or lame. The negro cannot make his black skin white,
nor the Chinaman his complexion or his features resemble those of the
Caucasian; neither can the blind nor the lame alter their physical
deformities. But the Jew needs only to speak a meaningless formula and
permit three drops of water to be sprinkled upon him and presto, change,
he has ceased to be a Jew and become a Christian. All his former
blemishes and shortcomings are forgotten, and he is received with open
arms into Christian society. Instead of being an outcast and a pariah,
an individual barely and unwillingly tolerated, he becomes a beloved
brother. Then, why stupidly submit to a load of inherited, unnecessary
trouble? Why not rather take the one bold step which will make an end of
them all at once and forever?”
“But, my dear Ottilie,” said Franz, who, though used to this line of
argument, was surprised by his wife’s unusual bitterness. “What is the
purpose of all this? You don’t want me to be baptized, to be a
_meshummad_, do you?”
“That is just what I do want,” answered Ottilie, vehemently. “I want you
to cease being a stupid martyr and begin to be sensible, and I want to
be sensible with you, too. I am not afraid of the word _meshummad_. That
is only a harmless term which stupid and fanatical Jews use to condemn
people who are more sensible than they. Baptism will not hurt you. It is
only the key which will unlock before you the gates of prosperity and
happiness in life. Besides, if you look honestly into your heart you are
no Jew. A Jew must have a faith, must believe in Judaism, and practise a
lot of senseless ceremonies. You do not care a straw for the whole
Jewish religion, nor bother your head about the Sabbath or the dietary
laws, or any of the other absurdities which they call religious
practices in Judaism. I don’t believe you have been inside of a
synagogue in ten years. I am just as little of a Jewess as you are of a
Jew. Yet, by keeping up the name of Jew, without any real reason except
a blind clinging to you know not what, you expose yourself and me and
our only son to all the trouble and disadvantages which result from
connection with a despised and hated people. Again, I say, be sensible.
Pay the price of admission to civilized society, that is, accept baptism
and be done with it.”
Thus did Ottilie reason and plead with her husband to renounce his
ancestral faith. The argument, thus seriously begun, lasted long, and
was carried on with intense earnestness on both sides. The thought of
accepting Christianity was no new one to Franz. His wife’s constant
perusal of that theme had made it familiar to him, but he had never yet
seriously contemplated the step. The memory of pious parents and of the
religious zeal and piety of youthful days, though long since discarded,
had had force enough to render the thought of apostasy utterly repugnant
and prevent its serious consideration. But Ottilie’s nature was stronger
than his; her’s was the masterful character, his the subordinate. Before
the evening was over, her persistence and adroit reasoning had
overpowered his feeble and illogical resistance. They retired for the
night with the understanding that on the morrow Franz was to inform Herr
Ober-Director von Meinken of his determination to seek salvation in the
arms of the church, and to request the Herr Ober-Director to act as his
godfather at the solemn rite of baptism.
The following morning Franz awoke in a state of high exhilaration. Now
that he had made up his mind he was thoroughly content, and wondered a
little how he had ever been able to pass so many years with the awful
burden of Judaism resting upon him, hindering and impeding his progress,
which he now pictured to himself as rapid and uninterrupted, bringing
him from step to step to the highest rank in his vocation. Ottilie was
even more jubilant than her husband. She rejoiced that her influence
over her husband was so great as to induce him to take so important and
decisive a step, and she rejoiced particularly when she thought how
grandly she would enter the _salons_ of her distinguished acquaintances,
no longer the merely tolerated Jewess, but the equal and co-religionist
of them all. She pictured to herself with especial delight how solemnly
she would enter the beautiful church, only two squares from their home,
which was so holy and so fashionable; and what a sensation she would
create with her reverent demeanor and her Paris gowns!
As soon as Franz reached the office he inquired whether the Herr
Director had arrived. As he had anticipated, the Herr Director had not
yet arrived. He did not usually come until about eleven o’clock, and
this morning was no exception. Franz waited with great impatience the
arrival of the great man. He thought it rather inconsiderate of him to
stay away so long when he, Franz Friedrich Levy, desired to make him so
important an announcement. At last, about a quarter of an hour later
than usual, the Herr Ober-Director put in his appearance and went at
once to his private office. He had not been in his sanctum five minutes
when a somewhat diffident knock at the door was heard, and upon his
deep-voiced “Herein!” Franz entered. “Ah, is it you, Levy?” said Herr
von Meinken, with a pleasant smile. “I think I can imagine the reason of
your call this morning. It is, I presume, in reference to that Station
Weizenhofen matter you spoke of the other day.” Franz hesitated. Now
that the decisive moment had come, he grew a little uncertain in his
conviction of the spiritual beauties and material advantages of
Christianity, and would have more than half liked another chance to
think over the matter. But only for a moment.
“No, your Excellency,” he answered. “It is not in reference to the
Weizenhofen matter that I have taken the liberty to request a brief
interview with you this morning. I am still engaged in working out that
matter, but I am not as yet prepared to make any definite proposition on
the subject. The cause that has brought me before your Excellency this
morning is of an entirely personal nature, but of the highest importance
to me, and I trust that I shall have the benefit of your Excellency’s
kindness and courteous sympathy in connection therewith.”
Herr von Meinken’s eyebrows rose slightly and his lips tightened just a
little when he heard these words. He did not answer, but continued to
eye Franz with the somewhat cold and dubious gaze of one who expects to
be importuned for a favor and does not feel inclined to grant it. “What
I desire and would respectfully request,” continued Franz, “is that your
Excellency might kindly consent to act as godfather at my baptism, and
that the highly honored baroness might graciously deign to act in the
same capacity for my wife. I do not doubt that you are somewhat
surprised,” he added, noticing the expression of genuine astonishment
upon the Herr Ober-Director’s face, “at this request but the fact is, my
wife and I have contemplated this step for some time. We are no longer
in sympathy with the faith in which we were born. We have come to
recognize that it is a presumption for an insignificant, retrograde
minority to cling to a religion different from that of the great,
cultured majority. Our tastes and views are all in close accord with
those of the Christian people of the land. In a word, we feel that our
place is in the church rather than in the synagogue, and, therefore, we
have finally determined to seek our true spiritual home, the church, and
to request most respectfully your Excellency and your Excellency’s
worthy lady kindly to assist at the solemn rite which joins us with our
fellow-citizens in the close brotherhood of religion, as we have always
been joined to them in the brotherhood of patriotism and love of the
fatherland.”
The Herr Ober-Director was surprised. There could be no doubt of that.
The expression of his countenance showed it plainly. But another emotion
of a less definite nature was also suggested on his features. It seemed
something like amusement; but one could not be sure, for he did not
explain it. He answered Franz very graciously, congratulated him on his
resolution, which did equal credit to his head and heart, assured him
that the true unity of citizens could only be found in their adherence
to a common faith, and wound up by accepting, in the kindliest and most
condescending manner possible, for himself and the Frau Baronin the
honorable functions of godfather and godmother to Franz and Ottilie.
Flustered and confused by the extraordinary courtesy of the Herr
Ober-Director and overwhelmed with happiness, Franz retired from the
august presence. The baptism took place, with all due formality, about a
week later. The minister of the fashionable Erlöser Kirche, which
Ottilie so greatly admired, Pastor Boecker, had been more than satisfied
with the intelligent and modest manner in which Franz and Ottilie had
applied for baptism, and had seen no reason to refuse their request for
a speedy performance of the ceremony. At the rite itself, which took
place in the presence of a small but select group of Christian
acquaintances, Franz and Ottilie conducted themselves with due humility
and reverence; and the Herr Ober-Director and spouse performed their
parts with perfect dignity and solemnity, while the Herr Pastor showed,
by the unusual impressiveness of his address, that he considered the act
one of exceptional importance. After the ceremony there was a charming
little supper in a private room of the Hotel zum Blauen Adler. Never
before had the Herr Ober-Director shown himself so affable. He proposed
the health of their newly-made Christian brother and sister in the
warmest and most eloquent terms, alluded in words of sincere
appreciation to Franz’s many years of useful service to the Anhalt
Diesterburg-Rickershofen State Railroad, presaged for him a still more
distinguished career in the future, and wound up by extending to him,
metaphorically, of course, the hand of friendship and brotherhood. As
for the Frau Baronin, she was as charming as she could be to Ottilie,
whose right-hand neighbor at table she was. Our newly-made Christians
were touched to the heart by all the kindness and sympathy that were
shown them, and could hardly refrain from open manifestation of their
joy. When the delightful feast was over and Franz and Ottilie had
reached their home, they gave full vent to their exultation.
“Now, Franz,” said Ottilie, “you see what it means to be numbered among
the Christians. What cordiality, what sincere friendship they all showed
us! Did you notice how extremely courteous the Frau Baronin was to me?
She never used to do more than barely notice me, with a merely formal
bow. But then I was only a Jewess, while now I am one of her own faith;
that is the difference. I hope now, Franz, you understand how much you
are obliged to me for having urged and finally brought you to consent to
this step, which means so much to both of us. Ah, I shudder when I think
of the time when I was numbered among the despised, wretched Jews. The
church in which we were baptized is rightly called Erlöser Kirche, for
it has redeemed us both from the bondage of Judaism.”
“You are right, Ottilie,” answered Franz, his face beaming with delight.
“This has been a great day for us. I have no doubt now but I shall
rapidly advance. Did you notice how the Herr Director praised my
services to the railroad and predicted for me a brilliant future? That
is what they call a hint with a fence rail; that from now on I am to
advance. The only obstacle to my progress was my Judaism; and that
hateful stumbling-block being now removed, there is no reason why I
should not rapidly forge ahead in my career.”
In this edifying and truly spiritual manner did our worthy couple
discuss the advantages of Christianity until a late hour, when they
retired to dream sweet dreams of financial blessings and social joys to
come. The next morning, bright and early, Franz was at his post in the
office of the railroad. He felt it incumbent upon him, so to speak, to
show that he did not presume to take any liberties because of his new
religious status, but that he still intended to merit promotion through
faithful performance of duty. About the usual time the Herr
Ober-Director appeared and, with a friendly nod to Franz, went into his
private office. As his tall form passed through the door, Franz
speculated as to how soon there would come through that door the welcome
message announcing his elevation to the next higher post. He did not
anticipate that it could come very soon; and when a half-hour later the
Herr Ober-Director’s special messenger approached his desk and deposited
upon it a huge envelope addressed to him and bearing the official seal
of the railroad, he was greatly surprised. “So soon,” he said to
himself, as with trembling hands and palpitating heart he tore open the
portentous missive. “This is far speedier than I could have expected.
How overjoyed Ottilie will be when I bring to her already to-day the
welcome news of my preferment. I wonder what the post is for which I am
selected.” Hastily he read; and as he grasped the contents of the
missive, his gaze hardened into a stare, his breath came in short, quick
gasps, all the color fled from his cheeks and left them ashy pale. This
is what he read:
“ANHALT-DIESTERBURG-RICKERSHOFEN STATE RAILROAD,
“BUREAU OF THE ADMINISTRATION.
“_To Herr Franz Friedrich, Chief Bookkeeper
of the Second Secretariat._
“DEAR SIR: We regret to inform you that after the end of the present
week your services will no longer be required. Thanking you for your
faithful efforts in the past, and sincerely regretting the necessity
of dispensing with your services in the future, we remain,
“Yours very truly,
“THE OBER-DIRECTION,
“SCHMIDT, _Sec’y._”
Franz sat for a full minute as one petrified, glaring at the curt
official note which announced the end of all his hopes and ambitions,
hardly able to realize its significance. Then a sudden resolution came
into his mind. He would face the Herr Ober-Director; he would demand the
meaning of this utterly inexplicable and outrageous action; he would
reproach him with his hypocritical professions of friendship at last
night’s celebration; he would shame him into continuing his services. He
rose from his seat, went to the door of the Ober-Director’s private
office and knocked. His chief’s deep-voiced “Herein!” was heard and he
entered. The Herr Ober-Director was seated at his desk, and gazed at
Franz with a grave countenance as he entered.
“Your Excellency,” said Franz, in a voice almost choked with emotion,
showing the fatal letter as he spoke, “I have just received this
communication, which informs me of my discharge. Is it correct? Am I
really dismissed from the road after a service of over twenty-five
years?” The Herr Ober-Director bowed in corroboration. “Your Excellency
will pardon me,” continued Franz, “if I ask you, is this just? Have I
not always done my duty faithfully? Am I not fully conversant with all
the requirements of my position? I believe these reasons would have
justified you in retaining me.”
“What you say is true, Herr Levy,” answered the Ober-Director, “and I
regret extremely to have to dispense with your services; but the fact
is, the business of the road has declined, and does not warrant us in
retaining so many officials. The Government is urgent that I must reduce
expenses. I am, therefore, obliged to abolish the second secretariat
altogether; and since your post thus ceases to exist, there is no choice
but for you to go.”
“Your Excellency will further pardon me,” said Franz, with increasing
agitation, “if I say that this action comes with especial harshness just
at this time when I have joined your faith, and been initiated into the
church under your kind patronage. It does seem strange, to say the
least, that during all these years, when I was a Jew, I was retained,
and no complaint or hint of prospective discharge ever reached my ears;
and now that I have become a Christian, you immediately discover that
there is no need for my services and I am summarily dismissed.”
“That is the very reason, strange as it may seem,” said the Herr
Ober-Director. “You see, we had already contemplated dismissing you some
time ago, as the need for your services had really ceased. But there is
so much talk nowadays of official anti-Semitism, of anti-Jewish
prejudice on the part of the Government, that we hesitated to discharge
you, since you were a Jew and an employee of many years’ standing. We
knew that if you were discharged, it would immediately be made the basis
of accusations of anti-Semitic tendencies on the part of the Government;
and since the Government has no such tendencies, and does not wish to be
considered as having them, we felt ourselves obliged to retain you. But
now that you are a Christian, and a member of the State church, no such
accusation of anti-Semitism can be made, and we therefore have felt at
liberty to dispense with your services, which, as I have said, have
really become superfluous. And, now, permit me to conclude this
interview, which is time-robbing and unprofitable, and to wish you a
very good day.”
As Franz went out through the Ober-Director’s door he said to himself,
with grim emphasis: “I think Ottilie will have to revise her favorite
quotation from Heine. As far as we are concerned, not Judaism but
Christianity has been the misfortune.”
THE RABBI’S GAME OF CARDS.
“Rabbi, why do you not come to supper? Everything is getting spoiled;
and if you do not come soon, your meal will not be fit to eat.”
It was the voice of Rebecca the rebbetzin, or wife of the rabbi of
Galoschin, in the province of Posen; and she was endeavoring to induce
her lord and master, Rabbi Akiba Erter, to leave his sanctum, where he
had been busy all afternoon solving profound intellectual problems, and
to turn his attention to the less ideal but equally necessary task of
eating his evening meal. It was nothing unusual for the good rabbi to be
so absorbed in his studies as to be utterly oblivious to all other
matters, and to disregard utterly such insignificant trifles as a call
to a meal. Rabbi Akiba was a noble specimen of the old-time rabbi. He
was a Talmudic scholar of extraordinary erudition and dialectic
keenness, a pietist of rigidly scrupulous observance, and charitable in
the extreme. Of the three elements which go to make up the ideal man,
the head, the heart, and the soul, it was hard to say with which he was
more liberally endowed. Whatever he did, he did with all his power. When
engaged in study, his absorption was absolute and his concentration
complete; when worshipping, his whole being poured itself out before his
Maker; and, when engaged in performing an act of benevolence, he had no
other thought in his mind until it was accomplished.
The problem which had engaged his attention on this particular occasion
belonged to the last-mentioned category, and was knottier far than the
most abstruse ceremonial, legal, or theological riddle he had ever been
called upon to solve. So troublesome was it, and so greatly did it worry
the good rabbi, that he presented quite a picture of despair as he sat
before his study-table, upon which were heaped in picturesque confusion
huge rabbinical tomes, some open and some closed, his black skull cup
pushed far back upon his head, and his hair and long venerable beard
sadly tousled and frowsed from the constant pulling he had given it
during the past three hours, while his long _peoth_ were from the same
cause all limp and out of curl. Supper-time had come, but the problem
was apparently as far from solution as ever, for the servant maid of the
household had summoned him four and five times to the evening meal and
he had not answered or even seemed aware of the summons; and it was only
when the rebbetzin herself appeared that he seemed conscious that he had
been called, and answered abstractedly, “Yes, wife, I am coming at once,
at once.” Impatiently muttering and grumbling to herself, the rebbetzin
returned to the dining-room; and the rabbi, rising from his seat,
directed his steps to the same place, his face clearly showing by its
abstracted and absorbed expression that the same problem which had
worried him all afternoon still engaged his thoughts.
Rabbi Akiba was usually a very pleasant companion at table. He was in
the habit of telling amusing anecdotes and making witty remarks in the
course of the meal, and it was his invariable custom to discourse
learnedly on some theme of the law before the blessing of the food was
pronounced, in order to fulfil the rabbinical precept, “a man shall
always speak words of the law over his table”; but to-night he was very
poor company indeed. He ate his food mechanically, taking everything
that came along without examination, although his usual practice was to
eat quite sparingly, and only such dishes as were favorites of his. He
put snuff into his milk-soup and salt to his nose, and would have eaten
the soup with its snuffy admixture had not Rebecca pointed out the
error.
To the remarks addressed to him by his better half he returned only
incoherent answers. In a word, he was in a state of abstraction and
perplexity which was plainly visible to all, so that not only his spouse
and his three pretty black-eyed daughters, Leah, Miriam, and Taube,
noticed it, but even the Russian _Bochur_ Hayim, whom the rabbi kept in
his house out of admiration for the latter’s profound erudition and who
was three-fourths blind, and as a rule totally oblivious to everything
that went on in the world outside of the _Beth Hammidrash_, dimly
perceived that his master was not the same as at other times. Suddenly
the rabbi paused while drinking a cup of tea, with such a suddenness,
indeed, as to make half of the hot fluid go down “the wrong throat”; and
though sputtering and coughing, and with face fiery red from the
resulting tracheal disturbance, managed to exclaim in triumphant gasps:
“I have it, I have it.”
“What have you?” inquired Rebecca with some acerbity. “As far as any one
can notice, all you have is a fit of coughing which cannot do you any
good. I hope what you have is worth having.”
“Never mind, wife,” said the rabbi with a pleasant smile. “What I have
is indeed worth the while. When all is accomplished you shall know what
it is. And now let us finish our meal, for I am in haste.”
The rabbi then briefly discoursed on a religious theme in order not to
deviate from his custom, and pronounced the blessing of the food, in
which all joined. “Now, my good Rebecca,” said the rabbi, when these
ceremonies were concluded, “bring me my great coat, my Sabbath hat, and
my cane, for I have a certain visit to make.”
“Why, what possesses you?” said Rebecca in wonderment. “Why do you want
to go out at night, although you have often told me that the disciples
of the learned should not go out alone at night, and why do you wish to
dress in your Sabbath state? Are you making a visit at court or the
palace of a noble? I am afraid all is not right with you.”
“Do not be afraid, wife,” said the rabbi, who was now in excellent
spirits. “Everything is all right. Now, quickly get me my things, for,
as I said, I am in haste.”
The rebbetzin was fain to be content with this not very satisfactory
answer, and brought her husband his finest official robes, the great,
heavy satin _jubitza_ and his broad velvet _streimel_ or Sabbath hat.
Having arrayed himself in these, and taken in addition a stout stick,
the rabbi ventured forth into the night, which, although the hour was
not late, was already, as usual in those northern regions, intensely
dark and quite cold.