Against the Current Part 2

Through him I received my first uplift towards "Patriotism, Fraternity and Humanity," and learned that those of us who believe in them must pay the price.

V

THE THREE WISE MEN

It was a bitter winter in the valley of the Waag. Motionless in its crooked bed lay that swift river, whose roar and rush neither the drought of summer nor the cold of winter had silenced within the memory of a generation. Only the roofs of the peasants' cottages were visible above the all-conquering, drifted snow, as for days, men, women and children battled with it in the attempt to release one another from its embrace.

No one asked: "Is this a Jew's house or a Magyar's isba?" "Is it the home of a Roman Catholic or a Protestant, to which we are making a path?" The common danger broke down ancient barriers, even as the snow filled the valleys, and the frozen river united isolated sh.o.r.es. As the older people became one in their common danger, so the children became one in the pleasurable excitement which these changes brought into the routine of their lives.

There was no school, no church and no synagogue service, and as we coasted down great mountains of snow, piled high by the patient toilers, we forgot the antagonisms to which so early in life we had fallen heir. I shared freely the sleds of the Gentile boys whose fathers were skillful in making them, and they shared as freely my luncheon, which the more provident Jewish home provided.

While sandwiched on a sled between two Gentile boys, one of them, my brother by vaccination, called my attention to the fact that Christmas was at hand, and that as chief choir boy, it was his prerogative to train the three wise men who go about on Christmas Eve from house to house, singing carols and gathering such gifts as may be bestowed upon the celebrants.

The boy on the back of the sled was to be one of them, and as the third boy was snow-bound in an isolated farmhouse, and not likely to be liberated before Christmas Eve, it was proposed that I should take his place. I accepted.

In a very vague way I knew the meaning of Christmas; it came in the dreariness of our winter, unrelieved by Jewish holidays, and the Christmas trees, the candles, and the happy children had long ago aroused my childish envy. Realizing that all this was not for me, I was content to see the twinkling lights, and hear the merry laughter of the children from afar, never even asking why I could not have a share in those things. Consequently it came about that when the sled reached the bottom of the roadway and I was released from my close fellows.h.i.+p with the Gentile boys, I was initiated into the duties of a wise man and duly accepted the post with all its obligations. Being a Jew, the financial responsibilities of the affair were thrust upon me. These consisted of purchasing paste, pins and several sheets of gilt paper for crowns and a huge star. My room was made the studio in which the various symbols were to be designed and manufactured.

It is safe to say that I was fairly unselfish in the matter, inasmuch as I could not hope to share in the returns from this enterprise, which would be largely in food which I did not need and could not have eaten had I needed it. Of course, being a wise man and wearing a crown were in themselves compensations worthy the sacrifice I was making, which at first consisted merely in diverting a few pennies from my small allowance, but which grew beyond my calculations, the more I entered into the experiences of a wise man.

While I provided the material things, as behooved my station in life, the acolyte provided things spiritual, and in a snow cave dug by our united efforts, he taught me my part in the dramatic performance of the "Three Wise Men." Incidentally I learned how to sing a Christian hymn and had my first lesson in Latin; and of both there were more, later in life and under less trying circ.u.mstances.

I spent the day before Christmas in feverish excitement, mumbling my part in all sorts of out-of-the-way places, as it was not safe for me to be heard by my family, reciting: "Christo nostro infantia"; three words of the hymn which I have never forgotten. When evening came, I had the difficult task of smuggling the Gentile boys into my room and then converting those ragam.u.f.fins into kings from Eastern lands. Their ill-smelling sheepskin coats were hidden in my bed, and the red garments of the acolytes, readorned by gilt paper, were thrown over the scanty clothing which remained. Then with gilt star, sceptre and crowns, we started out into the bitter cold to seek the Child in the Manger. I carried the star, and being cast for the part of the wise man from the land of the Moors, my face was blackened with stove-polish, generously applied by my brother by vaccination.

We made straightway for the home of the _Pany_, at the edge of the town.

It seemed a fairy palace to our unspoiled eyes. As in a dream I climbed the broad stairway leading to the upper chambers, although I was very conscious of the unusual garments I wore and in whose folds my ungainly feet were entangled.

Our welcome was not such as royal guests might expect, and very reluctantly we were led into the drawing-room where, nearly touching the high ceiling, stood the lighted Christmas tree from which hung glittering things that fairly dazzled us.

I had been told that in Catholic homes we would be greeted, according to custom, in the following manner: "You royal sirs, our visitors, what is the cause that brings you thus?"

Instead of that, the rough, jeering voice of the _Pany_ said: "Get done with your mummery, you lousy brats!" The two Gentile boys, born to obey such commands, fell upon their knees and recited:

"Oh! do not be afraid of us, Your royal, Eastern visitors.

To wors.h.i.+p, we have come from far, Led by a wondrous, s.h.i.+ning star; For we have heard this glorious thing That to the Jews is born a king."

Then came the Latin hymn with its chorus, in which I was supposed to join l.u.s.tily; but throughout which I was silent.

"Eya! Eya! Virgo Deum genuit quern divina voluit potentia." ...

It was a corrupt Latin and out of tune, which the boys sang; and when they had finished, they rose, conscious of the fact that there was something wrong with them or their audience, and there was. I was in the thick of a desperate fight with the _Pany's_ son who was trying to throw me. Ordinarily, he would not have had a difficult task; but my wounded, royal pride had given me unknown strength, and majestically I held my ground.

"Get down, you dirty peasant!" the lad cried viciously, while I, loudly protesting that I was not a peasant, fought him back until, coming to close quarters, we rolled on the floor, I holding him down with my hands and knees.

"Enough of this, you impudent fellow!" the angry voice of the _Pany_ said, as he lifted me roughly from the badly damaged form of his scion.

"Enough of this! Get out of here!"

I was ready enough to go; but fate willed otherwise.

"Why didn't you kneel?" the _Pany_ asked, as I picked up my demoralized crown and the star, which in the scuffle had been ruthlessly torn from my mother's yardstick, on top of which it had guided our footsteps.

"Because I am a king and not a peasant, and I won't kneel to any one."

Loud laughter greeted this speech, for it betrayed my race and religion.

Mockingly, the _Pany_ took me by the back of the neck.

"Ah, so!" he said; "that's your new business, being a king. Now, you dirty little _Schid_, get out of here, quick!" And down the broad stairway, which a few minutes before led me up to Paradise, I stumbled onto earth again.

With tears streaming down my blackened face and the acolyte's garments half torn from my body, I tried to find my way out of the lower hall, the other two kings having basely deserted me--when a woman's hand reached out to me in the dark. A very gentle touch it was, and it drew me into a warm and beautiful room. Then I saw that the woman was the _Pany's_ sister, an "old maid" known all through the town for her piety and good works. She washed my face with warm water, and arranged my dress so that I would be better s.h.i.+elded from the cold; she filled my pockets with nuts and such sweets as she knew I could eat, and as she led me out, she kissed my forehead and said: "Our Lord was a little Jewish boy, just like you." Then she kissed my lips and said, "In His name."

I ran home through the increasing cold as fast as my feet could carry me, into my room and to bed, but spent a restless night. I dreamed of the _Pany's_ son and of his sister, feeling kicks and kisses alternately. Then I travelled, far and farther, following the star, looking for the crib and the Child, but never finding them.

That Christmas morning I shall never forget. The maid found my bed full of vermin which had crawled out of the boys' sheepskin coats, and the towels and toilet articles were a ma.s.s of stove-polish. It was a day of intensest suffering under punishment of various kinds, yet through it all I felt the kisses of the _Pany's_ sister on my forehead and on my lips.

I was neither a Wise Man nor a king, yet I was wiser than I had been and I was as proud as a king, for I had not knelt at the _Pany's_ command and I had whipped his son.

VI

ABRAHAM LINCOLN IN HUNGARY

Ten o'clock in the morning was the one tense hour of the day, for the omnibus was due to arrive and, with it, everything which connected our town with the outside world. Although most of the villagers expected neither letters nor friends, every one who had even a moment of leisure stepped to his front door when the omnibus came, and tried to catch a glimpse of the sleepy pa.s.sengers who had spent a torturing night in the sombre, springless vehicle. In front of the Black Eagle Inn, congregated town loafers, children and the aged, who alone had leisure to watch the pa.s.sengers alight.

This was an exciting procedure, for the omnibus was high, and its one window served also as exit, so that the pa.s.sengers' feet protruded through the small opening first, the bodies being drawn carefully after.

It was a mirth-provoking performance, and as laughter was an indulgence not often experienced in our sober environment, all who could afford the leisure and the laughter awaited the daily diversion at the Black Eagle Inn.

On a certain Sabbath morning I had absented myself from the synagogue.

It was a June day of rare beauty with a warm, wooing, gentle wind, calling the boy in me back to the creek, the willow-trees, the goslings and the Gentile boys and girls. While nature with its willows and its goslings had no objection to my "cutting" the synagogue service, its Gentile and ungenteel children objected seriously, and I was driven back to the dusty street, with its cobblestone pavement. There was nothing to do except go to the synagogue or join the crowd of loafers around the Black Eagle Inn, and I chose the latter, although at great peril; for to be caught loafing on the Sabbath, during the hours of morning service, was sure to bring dire consequences. The clatter of hoofs and rattle of wheels were already heard, proceeding from a cloud of dust which came nearer and nearer as the omnibus swayed into sight. Its emaciated, weary horses responded to the whip of the driver as they made one last, brave effort at a gallop; then stopped at their accustomed place, steaming from heat and too weary even to whisk the gathering flies from their backs.

"How many pa.s.sengers have you?" some one called to the driver.

"Three-quarters of a man," he replied, laughing coa.r.s.ely.

The crowd stood for a moment speechless, as the leather curtain was thrown back and a wooden leg appeared; then carefully feeling for the foot-rest, came a real leg and foot. In due time the back followed, covered by a dusty blue coat, and the man stood before us--three-quarters of a man indeed; for above the wooden leg hung an empty coat sleeve.

From the depths of the vehicle the driver drew a bra.s.s-bound trunk. It was a strange-looking, gorgeous affair, and made almost as great a sensation among the astonished onlookers as the three-quarters of a man in the blue suit and bra.s.s b.u.t.tons had made. A queer-looking, soft hat shaded his bearded face, in which I intuitively detected faint traces of our common, racial ancestry. He swung his cane at the gaping crowd and called out, in military language: "Right about, face! March!" The crowd obeyed mechanically, and he hobbled unmolested into the inn. I followed him, for two reasons: first, the synagogue service was just over and I was sure to be discovered in this forbidden spot. Secondly, this was a new species of humanity to me, as new as the sewing-machine which had come to our house about a week before, and as wonderful as the coal-oil lamp, the marvellous light of which now illuminated our home for the first time. Strange to say, all these had come from America, during the last fortnight.

"Why are you looking at me, youngster?" the man asked, shaking his empty sleeve at me. "Have you never seen three-quarters of a man before?

What's your name?"

While he waited for my reply, he took a pull at his bottle of _palenka_, the common drink of the peasants. When he heard my name, he stared at me less fiercely.

"Come here," he said, patting my curly head. "I am a Jew myself."