It is not good to be an only son, to be fretted over by father and
mother--to be the only one left out of seven. Don't stand here. Don't go
there. Don't drink that. Don't eat the other. Cover up your throat. Hide
your hands. Ah, it is not good--not good at all to be an only son, and a
rich man's son into the bargain. My father is a money changer. He goes
about amongst the shopkeepers with a bag of money, changing copper for
silver, and silver for copper. That is why his fingers are always black,
and his nails broken. He works very hard. Each day, when he comes home,
he is tired and broken down. "I have no feet," he complains to mother.
"I have no feet, not even the sign of a foot." No feet? It may be. But
for that again he has a fine business. That's what the people say. And
they envy us that we have a good business. Mother is satisfied. So am I.
"We shall have a Passover this year, may all the children of Israel have
the like, Father in Heaven!"
That's what my mother said, thanking God for the good Passover. And I
also was thankful. But shall we ever live to see it--this same Passover?
Passover has come at last--the dear sweet Passover. I was dressed as
befitted the son of a man of wealth--like a young prince. But what was
the consequence? I was not allowed to play, or run about, lest I caught
cold. I must not play with poor children. I was a wealthy man's boy.
Such nice clothes, and I had no one to show off before. I had a
pocketful of nuts, and no one to play with.
It is not good to be an only child, and fretted over--the only one left
out of seven, and a wealthy man's son into the bargain.
My father put on his best clothes, and went off to the synagogue. Said
my mother to me: "Do you know what? Lie down and have a sleep. You will
then be able to sit up at the '_Seder_' and ask the 'four questions'!"
Was I mad? Would I go asleep before the "_Seder_"?
"Remember, you must not sleep at the '_Seder_.' If you do, Elijah the
Prophet will come with a bag on his shoulders. On the two first nights
of Passover, Elijah the Prophet goes about looking for those who have
fallen asleep at the '_Seder_,' and takes them away in his bag." ... Ha!
Ha! Will I fall asleep at the "_Seder_"? I? Not even if it were to last
the whole night through, or even to broad daylight. "What happened last
year, mother?" "Last year you fell asleep, soon after the first
blessing." "Why did Elijah the Prophet not come then with his bag?"
"Then you were very small, now you are big. Tonight you must ask father
the 'four questions.' Tonight you must say with father--'Slaves were
we.' Tonight, you must eat with us fish and soup and '_Matzo_'-balls.
Hush, here is father, back from the synagogue."
"Good '_Yom-tov_'!"
"Good '_Yom-tov_'!"
Thank God, father made the blessing over wine. I, too. Father drank the
cup full of wine. So did I, a cup full, to the very dregs. "See, to the
dregs," said mother to father. To me she said: "A full cup of wine! You
will drop off to sleep." Ha! Ha! Will I fall asleep? Not even if we are
to sit up all the night, or even to broad daylight. "Well," said my
father, "how are you going to ask the 'four questions'? How will you
recite '_Haggadah_'? How will you sing with me--'Slaves were we'?" My
mother never took her eyes off me. She smiled and said: "You will fall
asleep--fast asleep." "Oh, mother, mother, if you had eighteen heads,
you would surely fall asleep, if some one sat opposite you, and sang in
your ears: 'Fall asleep, fall asleep'!"
Of course I fell asleep.
I fell asleep, and dreamt that my father was already saying: "Pour out
thy wrath." My mother herself got up from the table, and went to open
the door to welcome Elijah the Prophet. It would be a fine thing if
Elijah the Prophet did come, as my mother had said, with a bag on his
shoulders, and if he said to me: "Come, boy." And who else would be to
blame for this but my mother, with her "fall asleep, fall asleep." And
as I was thinking these thoughts, I heard the creaking of the door. My
father stood up and cried: "Blessed art thou who comest in the name of
the Eternal." I looked towards the door. Yes, it was he. He came in so
slowly and so softly that one scarcely heard him. He was a handsome man,
Elijah the Prophet--an old man with a long grizzled beard reaching to
his knees. His face was yellow and wrinkled, but it was handsome and
kindly without end. And his eyes! Oh, what eyes! Kind, soft, joyous,
loving, faithful eyes. He was bent in two, and leaned on a big, big
stick. He had a bag on his shoulders. And silently, softly, he came
straight to me.
"Now, little boy, get into my bag, and come." So said to me the old man,
but in a kind voice, and softly and sweetly.
I asked him: "Where to?" And he replied: "You will see later." I did not
want to go, and he said to me again: "Come." And I began to argue with
him. "How can I go with you when I am a wealthy man's son?" Said he to
me: "And as a wealthy man's son, of what great value are you?" Said I:
"I am the only child of my father and mother." Said he: "To me you are
not an only child!" Said I: "I am fretted over. If they find that I am
gone, they will not get over it, they will die, especially my mother."
He looked at me, the old man did, very kindly, and he said to me, softly
and sweetly as before: "If you do not want to die, then come with me.
Say good-bye to your father and mother, and come." "But, how can I come
when I am an only child, the only one left alive out of seven?"
Then he said to me more sternly: "For the last time, little boy. Choose
one of the two. Either you say good-bye to your father and mother, and
come with me, or you remain here, but fast asleep for ever and ever."
Having said these words, he stepped back from me a little, and was
turning to the door. What was to be done? To go with the old man,
God-knows-where, and get lost, would mean the death of my father and
mother. I am an only child, the only one left alive out of seven. To
remain here, and fall asleep for ever and ever--that would mean that I
myself must die....
I stretched out my hand to him, and with tears in my eyes I said:
"Elijah the Prophet, dear, kind, loving, darling Elijah, give me one
minute to think." He turned towards me his handsome, yellow, wrinkled
old face with its grizzled beard reaching to his knees, and looked at me
with his beautiful, kind, loving, faithful eyes, and he said to me with
a smile: "I will give you one minute to decide, my child--but, no more
than one minute."
* * *
I ask you. "What should I have decided to do in that one minute, so as
to save myself from going with the old man, and also to save myself from
falling asleep for ever? Well, who can guess?"