soon as the bans were read in church, the marriage was solemnized.
Mother and I were guests of honour and that which I enjoyed most about
the wedding was, that I held the baby while the priest spoke the words
which united in holy wedlock--Shimek and the goose girl.
IX
AN UNWILLING JEW
In some villages scattered along the highways which led from our town,
feeling against the Jews was especially marked. I do not know how to
account for this, although wherever race antagonisms have developed, one
finds that in certain communities prejudice is very strong, while others
are practically immune from it. The village of Rovensko was feared by
all Jews, who never passed through it after sundown; for they would have
been assaulted. Even in broad daylight they were never safe from insult.
Frequently raids against the Jews in our own town were organized in
Rovensko and whenever we met a peasant from there on our streets we
immediately knew him to be an enemy. Boys in the adolescent period
seemed to be most vicious and many a time I had to suffer from their
fists and still more from their jibes and taunting songs.
The leader of this gang of boys was a foundling who had been brought to
the village by a childless widow. Her tender heart-strings were so
wrapped about the lad that when the time came to send him back to the
"Big Gray Mother," as the foundlings' home was called, she decided to
adopt him and did so without the consent of the authorities. The boy was
unusually handsome, his face betraying a rather fine type of ancestry
and only as he grew older did his features become coarse. When he was
drunk, and that was often, one could not distinguish him from the rest
of the Rovensko lads. Hatred of the Jews seemed to be an absorbing and
consuming passion with him. He had broken into the synagogue and
polluted the sacred scrolls; he had invaded the Jewish cemetery and
levelled many a headstone. It was he who was most active in the
periodical Easter raids against our community; yet in spite of my fear
of him or perhaps because of it, I developed a fondness for him. He was
big, strong, fearless; and, strange to say, reciprocated my feeling. A
number of times he saved me from rough treatment by his comrades. Once
when they had hurt me and I was crying, he offered dangerous consolation
in the form of a green apple, which he drew from the folds of his shirt.
One day there was a rumour that his parents were searching for him, that
the judge had received money to repay the widow for her care of the boy
and that fine clothing had been sent him. The rumours were confirmed
when he appeared on the streets in a fashionable Viennese suit, smoking
a long, Hungarian cigar and treating everybody to _palenka_, himself
taking wine until he was drunk, after which he drank _palenka_ with the
peasants. That night, he and his comrades marched through the streets,
breaking as many window-panes in Jewish homes as they could find, and
spreading terror in all hearts. What remained of the night he passed in
jail and was kept there, first, because he deserved it and secondly
because the policeman wanted to help him spend his money. The courthouse
and the jail were opposite our house and one evening I saw him coming
out, pale and blear-eyed, his fashionable clothing creased and crumpled
and his linen soiled. Something impelled me to speak to him and invite
him to come and drink a cup of coffee in our kitchen. Perhaps it was
gratitude for his kindness to me or possibly it was to heap coals of
fire upon his head; more likely it was merely the boy's chance to
worship a hero; at any rate, he drank two cups of coffee and as he
crunched the sugar between his teeth, I ventured to ask him why he hated
the Jews. "It's in the blood," he said. "When I see a Jew I get angry
and feel like hitting him over the head." Then he put his rough fingers
into my hair and pulled it until my cries brought my mother. When he saw
her, he left the kitchen with an oath, banging the door behind him. My
mother took me to task for wasting our good coffee on an enemy and we
seriously discussed this terrible question of being a Jew, of being
hated by the Gentiles and hating in turn. I do not recall just what she
said, but I know she tried to prove to me that the differences between
the races were so great that we could not help hating one another. When
I insisted that I did not and could not hate even this our arch-enemy,
she took me into her arms and our argument ended in kisses as was often
the case.
An unusual thing happened a little later which put nearly the whole town
in a ferment. A carriage came from the far-away railroad station and its
occupants, a prosperous and intelligent-looking couple, alighted at the
courthouse. I remember the woman's beautiful costume, her fine figure
and especially her sad face. There was much discussion in our house as
to whether or not she was a Jewess. Quickly the news spread through the
town that the foundling's parents had arrived and that they would take
him back to Vienna. An officious policeman began the search for Anton,
which was the foundling's name, and when the lucky boy appeared he was
the envy of all the town. When the doors of the courthouse closed upon
him, half the population gathered to witness his triumphant reappearance
with his parents, whose wealth was regarded as fabulous and their social
rank high.
After what seemed to me a very long time the doors were opened violently
and Anton, rushing out like a madman, ran down the street as fast as his
legs could carry him. The gentleman led the lady to the carriage. Her
face was hidden against his breast and she was crying bitterly. Then
they drove away while the inquisitive bystanders wondered what had
happened.
From that time on, Anton never took part in any raid against the Jews;
not because he had become a peaceful citizen--he had more fights on his
hands than before; for whenever his former comrades wished to taunt him,
they called him "Jew," which so enraged him that he would fight to the
blood; for he _was_ a Jew.
X
THE PRINCE COMES
The town was being turned upside down; at least it seemed so to those of
us who had lived in its undisturbed atmosphere, from year's end to
year's end. A prince--the crown prince was to pass through it on his way
to the maneuvres;--so churches and synagogue vied with each other in
preparing a worthy welcome. The Catholics, representing the ruling
minority, were to head the procession, the Lutherans would follow and
the Jews, of course, were to come last. The children had been given an
important part in the program, and my mother was busy many days drilling
me for my part, as I was to be the spokesman for the Jewish children.
I won this place of honour in a competitive declamation of a speech of
welcome prepared by our teacher, and day or night there was nothing on
my lips but its fine sounding and well-rounded phrases. I have not
forgotten that eventful day for many reasons. I wore a new suit, and a
stiff collar which belonged to my sister and had to be fastened to me by
various artificial devices. I recall the great relief which followed,
when my task was done after the countless times I had practiced my bow
and my speech; but above all, I saw a prince, a lad only a few years
older than myself--wearing the uniform of a cavalry officer, his coat
covered by glittering stars and crosses, his weary face looking out of a
frame of heavy, black hair.
There were princes in my fairy tales and often in my dreams; but now a
real prince had materialized, and so great was the pomp which surrounded
him and so overwrought were my nerves, that I was not the least
disillusioned by the reality. A brass band headed the procession, which
moved from the market square to the _Pany's_ castle, where the prince
was domiciled. Following the band came representatives of the Catholic
Church, with all the splendour that she can display even in so small and
wretched a parish. The priests, in their most elaborate vestments,
looked to me like demi-gods, and the poor, pinched peasant lads, now
clothed in the gorgeous garb of acolytes, were fit attendants for these
deities; the county and town dignitaries came next, then distinguished
citizens carrying banners, and last came the school children, singing
patriotic Magyar songs. In the next division were the Lutherans, and
what they lacked in splendid church vestments, they made up in the
gorgeous attire of the Slavic peasant men and women, in whose garments
colour ran such riot that even the most discordant tints were forced to
blend harmoniously. On the outskirts of the market-place, the Jews
gathered; a motley group of sober-looking, bearded men. It was difficult
to organize them into an orderly procession. Not only were military
habits distasteful to them, but they were such strong individualists
that to march together and keep step with one another was as difficult
as to keep in time or tune, while they said their prayers or chanted in
the synagogue.
Finally some order was brought into the chaos, and this, the last
division of the procession, moved, the rabbi leading with the president
of the congregation. When I saw the straggling lines of Jews following,
bent as if the burden of ages was upon their backs, I felt thoroughly
ashamed of them. The crowd of bystanders did not help my mood any, for
they jeered us from the time we started until we reached the courtyard,
where the ceremonial of welcome was to take place. The _Pany's_ castle
was a two-storied, unostentatious building, hidden behind a grove of
acacia trees. Chiselled out of the same gray stone as the building was a
tribune flanked by a double stairway, at the top of which the prince
stood, surrounded by his retinue.
We cheered him loudly at a given signal, and sang the national anthem as
harmoniously as we could, considering that we sang it in three
languages. Then came addresses of welcome by the Magyar officials, who
almost prostrated themselves. The Catholic priest, his trailing robe
carried by two acolytes, advanced; he would have made obeisance, but the
prince bowed low before this representative of the church and kissed his
hand. The scene made an indelible impression upon my mind, although of
course I did not then understand its significance. The Lutheran pastor
followed and made a ringing address, pleading for his poor and oppressed
people--a speech which cost him his official head. Then our rabbi walked
hesitatingly up the time-worn steps, making his address in corrupt
German and in so low a voice that no one heard it, not even the prince,
who talked to his attendants during its delivery. The crowd was tired
out when I made my way towards the prince, led by my teacher. I have
since counted the steps which led to the tribune and found that there
were just nine of them; that day they looked like at least ninety; in
fact they seemed to stretch endlessly upwards, and at their head, far
out of my reach, stood the prince. A desperate courage took hold of me.
I made my oft practiced courtesy and immediately caught the attention of
the prince and the crowd.
I was a lad of seven or eight and as I look at my picture of that time,
I find that I had a head too large for my body, a mass of curly, blond
hair which emphasized its size and, my eyes being blue, complexion fair
and features regular, I did not look Jewish.
I delivered my address, retaining in some measure my self-possession: I
did not look at the prince but at my dear mother, to whom this moment
was the proudest in my life, for when my speech was finished, the prince
beckoned to me. Then the two remaining steps between him and me appeared
to stretch out interminably, and it seemed an age before I reached the
place where he stood. He put his hand on my head, and said some kind
words, after which he turned to his attendants and said in the Magyar
language: "Too bad, too bad that he is a Jew. He doesn't look or act
like one." Of course, I was the envied of all beholders, Jews and
Gentiles alike, but I was a very unhappy boy. I cried all that evening
and when mother put me to bed, she could not stop my tears, in spite of
her telling me of King David and King Solomon, who were Jews yet were
great kings, and as far as we knew we might be their descendants. After
she left me, I spent nearly the whole night between sleeping and
waking;--the thought uppermost in my mind being how terrible a thing it
was to be a Jew, and that perhaps it might happen to me as it did in the
fairy tales, that I was not really my mother's son, but stolen by a
witch or a fairy out of some castle, and that in due time I should be
released from this captivity and return in triumph to my lordly estate.
Towards morning I must have slept soundly, for I felt keen
disappointment when I opened my eyes and saw the same narrow room with
its bare walls and the high cupboard with its modest treasures. By the
well-known fragrance of the breakfast coffee which filled my nostrils, I
knew that my mother was not a queen or I a prince, but that I was just a
little Jewish boy, whom many people despised and some pitied. The fact
that I was more than a nine days' wonder after this did not atone for
the terrible words of the prince, which kept ringing in my ears, "Too
bad he is a Jew!"
XI
THE CHILD ON THE BATTLE-FIELD
When the Master asked His disciples to take no thought for the morrow,
He asked what to the Jew was the most difficult attitude of mind,--at
least to the Jewish mind as I knew it. In my childhood, the Jewish
characteristic was to be burdened by care to the degree that full,
unqualified pleasure seemed impossible. Even to-day, when I meet men who
come from Jewish homes in the Old World, they invariably tell me that
news from home is never unreservedly good, and letters are dreaded,
because they always tell of persecutions that were, are, or will be; of
business which is bad, health which is worse and death which comes,
leaving so little hope behind. The all-absorbing cares of these Jewish
homes are the dowry and marriage of the daughters and the fear of
military service for the sons. Mothers begin to lay aside linen and
feather pillows for the marriage portion before a girl is out of her
swaddling clothes, and money is early put into the bank for the same
purpose; so that, unless the family is in more than comfortable
circumstances, this compels strictest economy and in many cases causes
acute suffering.
Among very poor people, it is no rare thing to see mothers begging from
door to door for aid in securing a dowry; and to marry off a daughter
well, is great good fortune, while to marry her under any circumstances
seems to be a compelling duty.
Worry about the sons has in it an admixture of terror. The Jew has no
passion for war and every reason to dread it. Persecution has made him
timid and he finds that non-resistance is a necessary virtue. Physical
courage is not one of his great assets. I have always felt the lack of
it and have already called attention to my dread of firearms.
Perhaps one of the strongest factors in making Jewish parents fear the
proscription of their sons was the fact that in many cases military
service meant a complete breaking away from Jewish customs. The lads
themselves had no pleasure in store for them in their association with
Gentile comrades and officers who were never too considerate of their
feelings. No small wonder then, that everything which could be done
legitimately or illegitimately was done to free a son from military
service. The rich and unscrupulous bribed the examining military
physician and the poor sometimes tried a prolonged debauch to make the
desired impression of physical unfitness.
There were two great virtues which my mother constantly preached and
practiced; charity and contentment. The first kept her from speaking ill
of her neighbours and the second saved her from unnecessary worry. Yet I
knew that after my brother's name was posted on the courthouse doors
among the list of those to present themselves for physical examination,
she lay awake many a night and I often saw traces of tears on her face.
"As God wills," was her characteristic expression, and it seemed to be
the will of God that her son should be found fit to serve the Hungarian
king in the seventy-third infantry regiment. It was a dreary day in our
house, as if some one had died. We walked about on tiptoe and never
raised our voices. Only the brother most concerned seemed cheerful or at
least pretended to be. He was sworn in at the dirty jail, where the
peasant lads were locked up, for fear they might get drunk before they
came to that solemn ceremony. Then he returned home, awaiting the
command to join his regiment.
When the summons finally came, it was a call to arms--to war. Austria
had been apportioned the unruly Turkish provinces of Bosnia and
Herzegovina and, in her self-confident fashion, hoped to pacify its
half-savage inhabitants by invading their territory with a brass band,
regiments of soldiers and a superabundance of useless officers. The
untamed Slavs, who spurned Moslem rule and had fought for freedom in
their mountains, were not eager to exchange masters, so from behind the
rocks they fired their crude blunderbusses and from safe ambush fell
upon the trim Hapsburg soldiers. Regiment after regiment was sent,
thousands and tens of thousands of soldiers were slain, the national
debt leaped into hundreds of millions and the poor women all over that
beautiful and unhappy country began making bandages and picking lint for
the wounded. The regiment to which my brother belonged was ordered to
the front, but before it left he obtained a two days' furlough to visit
his mother. It was the Jewish New Year's day; one of the most solemn of
all holy days. When early in the evening he came, I remember with what
awe I handled his uniform, the dread I felt of his bayonet, fearing to
touch it, and the general atmosphere of gloom which pervaded the house.
Mother cried all day, we children wept with her and my brother walked up
and down in his bright uniform, manfully trying to keep back his own
tears. In the evening he had to leave us and it was as sad a
leave-taking as I ever have witnessed.
A few days later, the postmaster himself came to our house with a
message, which contained the sad news that my brother had been fatally
wounded in the first engagement in which his regiment took part. That
night my mother started for the far-away city. I begged to go with her.
When she refused to let me, I threw myself in front of the horses, and
when I was lifted from the ground I determined not to allow mother to
face the misfortune alone. Unseen by any one, I ran through an orchard,
across the creek to the highway, and when the carriage came, I jumped
onto the protruding rear springs and made myself as comfortable as
possible. Early in the morning, when the driver was changing horses, I
was discovered, chilled to the bone and hungry; but happy because I was
too far away from home to be sent back and could be with my mother in
the great sorrow which awaited her.
She dragged herself from hospital to hospital, until our clothes were
saturated by the odour of ether, our ears ringing from the groans of
dying men, and our hearts heavy to the breaking point. Upon a bit of
level soil, scarce in that stony country, soldiers were digging
trenches, into which carts full of human bodies were literally dumped,
and at each trench mother's eyes searched for her first-born son. As
they threw the last cartful of these torn and soiled temples of the
spirit into a trench, her heroic strength gave way, for she saw my
brother's black hair matted from blood, and his handsome young face
distorted by the pain he had suffered. It was hard to recognize him but
she knew it was her son, because he wore the ring she herself had taken
from the finger of her dead husband, and put there.
The experience of that day aged my mother and aged me, but it put a new
sort of courage into me. I felt enraged by what I saw. I knew that a
great wrong was being practiced against the children of men, a wrong
which must be righted;--above all, I had seen Slav, Magyar, Jew and
Gentile, one in death, so much alike that a Jewish mother scarcely knew
her own child; my wise mother talked it all over with me. "Yes, my boy,
we are made of the same clay and I believe we have the same spirit in
us, no matter what our race or faith." "Then, mother," I said, "if we
are all alike, why do we hate each other and kill each other?" But she
was not wise enough to answer that question.
XII
THE PENALTY OF SCEPTICISM
Of the comforts and luxuries by which the American child seems to be
surfeited, I knew few or none. Sweets I tasted only in the form of
Sabbath cake, an occasional piece of loaf sugar, purloined from the
pantry, or a sheet of sugar paper, a delicacy whose delights still
linger in my memory. This confection was a by-product of the candy shop,
and was the sticky substance left in a cornucopia, out of which the
Bohemian candy-maker squeezed artistic decorations onto the cakes he
made. These "_Skarnitzel_," as they were called, were highly prized by
the children; they were of many flavours, but all, whether vanilla,
lemon or rose, smelled strongly of snuff tobacco, evidence of the
artist's bad habits.
Books and especially newspapers were also scarce, but the candy-maker
was a great reader and a sceptic towards religion. After he had read his
papers he used them in the manufacture of the afore-mentioned
confection, so that "_Skarnitzel_" became a by-product, not only of
fancy cakes, but also savoured of Bohemian literature. I was one of the
best customers the candy-maker had, and, while frankly confessing that
I licked the sweets from the paper with great gusto and skill, I soon
learned to appreciate the literature which remained. Both from the
sanitary and the mental standpoint this confection was unwholesome. One
winter, after disposing of the covering sweets, I read fragments from
the works of Thomas Paine, and another season I reached the bitterest
parts of one of Ingersoll's savage attacks upon the Bible. I suppose I
did not understand what I read, but it fitted into my rebellious mood
and I soon began to make propaganda for my unbelief. When the
candy-maker discovered that he had a disciple, he took pains to fill the
gaps which remained in my mind, after reading the philosophy of
scepticism in so fragmentary a way.
For hours I would sit in his bake shop and while he was decorating cakes
or making gorgeously coloured stick candy, he led me into the outskirts
of the scientific view of creation, in a crude but, to me, satisfactory
manner. The world was self-created, there was no God, no Adam, no Eve,
no flood, no patriarchs and no revelation on Sinai. Moses was a shrewd
leader who used Egyptian magic to impress the barbaric Israelites. The
candy-maker was particularly severe with the heroes of the New
Testament, and no less so with Jesus Himself. I recall just one sentence
of his argument against the divinity of the Master. "If He was a God,
why did He let them crucify Him? Why did He not come down from the cross
and kill His enemies?" Of course, I did not know how old this argument
was until I read the New Testament for myself. At school during the
recess I gathered my classmates, who were all my seniors (for I made two
and three grades each year), and repeated to them what I had heard,
amplifying it not a little.