Trachtenberg

1. Chapter I

About sixty years ago, during the reign of the Emperor Francis the First, there lived in a small town in Eastern Galicia an excellent man, who had been greatly favored by fortune. His name was Nathaniel Trachtenberg; his occupation was that of a chandler. He had inherited from his father a modest business, which he had increased by his energy and perseverance, by adding to it the manufacture of wax candles, and by the admirable quality of his goods. Possibly, also, by the wise moderation he used in demanding payment, which had secured nearly all the noble families of the country as his patrons.

His intellectual progress kept pace with his increase of riches. Richly endowed by nature, he acquired, by his intercourse with those of superior position and by the numerous journeys he made to the West for business purposes, a higher degree of culture than was usual with his co-religionists of that period. He spoke and wrote German fluently; he read the Vienna papers regularly, and even occasionally a poet, such as Schiller or Lessing.

But, no matter how widely his opinions might vary from those of his less-cultivated co-religionists as to the aims and purposes of life, he bound himself closely to them in matters of dress and style of living, and not only conformed to every command of the Law, but carried out every injunction of the rabbis with punctilious exactitude.

"You do not know the atmosphere we breathe," he was accustomed to say to his progressive Jewish friends in Breslau and Vienna. "It does not matter as to my opinion of the sinfulness of carrying a stick on the Sabbath, but it is important to prove to them by the example of a man they respect that one may read German books, talk with Christians in correct German, and still be a pious Jew. Therefore it would be a sin if my talar were replaced by a German coat. Do you suppose, either, it would bring me closer to the gentry? No, indeed. They would only regard it as an impotent attempt to raise myself to their level. So we better-educated Jews must remain as we are for the present, at least, as regards externals." This was the result of serious conviction, he always added; and how serious, he proved by the method of education which he pursued with his two children, his wife having died while she was still quite young.

There was a boy, Raphael, and a girl, Judith. The latter gave promise of great beauty. Both received a careful education, in accordance with the requirements of the age, from a tutor, one Herr Bergheimer, who had been brought from Mayence by Trachtenberg. But their religious training was cared for by the father himself. "I will not say," he once told the tutor, "whether or not I consider it a misfortune to have been born a Jew. I have my own ideas on the subject, which might shock your simple faith. Whether good or ill, it is our fate, and must be borne with equanimity. Therefore I wish my children educated with the most profound reverence for Judaism. The humiliations which will come to them because of their nation I can neither prevent nor modify, so I wish they should have the comfort of feeling in their struggles in life that they are suffering for something which is dear to them and is worth the pain."

With this feeling he strove to stifle in their minds every germ of hatred towards Christians, and at the same time he early accustomed them to the idea that, sooner or later, they must run the gantlet because of their creed, and even because of the cast of their features.

"They must learn to endure," he would say, with a sad smile. And so he allowed Raphael and Judith to associate with Christian children belonging to families who, for private reasons, were glad to pay some attention to the wealthy Jewish fabricant.

Trachtenberg thought this intercourse of small consequence, never dreaming it might exercise an influence over the character of his children quite the opposite of that he would like. And it could not but make an impression on the youthful minds growing up on a borderland where the musty air of the Ghetto mingled with another air no whit purer, compounded, as it was, of the incense of a fanatical creed and the pestilential gases of decaying Polish aristocracy.

Separated from the Jewish children of the town by mode of life, manner of speech, and learning, they were not less divided from their Christian play-fellows by instinct and prejudices which made a really hearty sympathy and intercourse impossible. Whoever looks into a child's heart knows well it can surrender every other necessity than that of loving and being loved. No matter how much the father might attempt to prevent a feeling of isolation for his darlings, the time came when, of necessity, he acknowledged to himself that he had not properly appreciated the bitterness which this feeling aroused, and when he was forced to stand by and look on helplessly as they sought for companionship with others of the same age.

This happened when Raphael had reached his twenty-first and Judith her nineteenth year. They had just completed a course of dancing lessons, held in the house of Herr von Wroblewski, a magistrate, and one of Trachtenberg's most expensive acquaintances.

Raphael, who was weary of bearing slights because of his curly hair and round eyes, resolved, bitterly, that he would never again enter the house of a Christian, but would find associates among those to whom he belonged by race and common woe.

Judith's experience was just the contrary. She felt more and more at home among her Christian friends; and went to her Hebrew lessons with a frown. But their father's authority prevented any complete change in their way of life, so they complied with his requirements just as little as they could. The wise man recognized the fact that his intentions were combated by the strongest of human emotions--self-satisfaction on the one side, on the other injured self-love.

Poor Raphael was doubly hateful to his partners in the dance because he was a Jew, whereas the premature beauty of his sister entranced her youthful admirers, because they could cherish hopes as regarded her on account of her race which would not have entered their minds towards a girl belonging to their own class.

At times it troubled Trachtenberg's mind lest this "childishness" should have a permanent influence upon their lives. But accustomed, as he had been for so many years, to keen calculation rather than to doubtful presentiments, he felt his forebodings vanish when he remembered his carefully laid plans for the future, which he thought could not be interfered with by these inclinations, but, so he sometimes sought to persuade himself, were even promoted by them.

He had intended his son for the law, not only because, like the rest of his race, he considered a diploma of a doctor of laws the highest of honors, but because he aspired to have him a model and a champion for his co-religionists. As Raphael was to pass his life in Galicia, it was well he should have this feeling for the oppressed awakened early, since it would nerve him for his destined work; while Judith, whom her father proposed to marry to some enlightened and educated German Jew, could best acquire that knowledge of etiquette and refinement which she would need in her future home in Christian society.

Influenced by these considerations, Trachtenberg allowed matters to take their own course as long as he feared no break in their mutual affection. But their relations were becoming more and more strained, and it was difficult for the father to decide which was most to blame. The alienation which had arisen did not spring from lack of love, or from difference in mental constitution.

Moreover, Raphael and Judith bore not the slightest physical resemblance to each other, he being an awkward, haggard youth with a pale, sharply cut face, above which was a forest of crinkly-black hair; while she was a sweet, delicate rosebud of a girl, her beautiful brow crowned with masses of rich auburn hair; and although her cheerfulness and love of gayety contrasted strongly with his morose and gloomy manners, yet in vital matters they showed they were children of the same mother.

Both were gifted, sensitive, and fastidious; both ambitious and proud; both self-conscious to defiance, and each dearer to the other than life. It was this very equality of mental capacity that divided and embittered them. Each thought his own inclination the only right one, sensible, and just; each felt sorely wounded at the other's reproof; each worried about the other's future, and treasured up accidental or slighting observations relating to the other. She remembered the contemptuous sneer of the Polish ladies at the "gloomy follower of the Talmud;" he, every poisonous jest of the Ghetto about the "renegade."

And so it came to pass that, though their love was really intact, yet outwardly they were almost in open warfare, and, urged on by pride and defiance, they went further than they themselves would have thought possible. Because Judith despised Jewish acquaintances, Raphael swore enmity towards all Christians; and because he became more and more observant of the ritual, she neglected it altogether.

But their acquaintances were the chief cause of contention. She made fun of his friends in the Ghetto, their modes of speech, thought, and life; and indeed she had sufficient cause. Raphael never wearied of speaking disdainfully of the magistrate and his social circle, and he required no power of invention to find grounds for his criticisms.

Herr Ludwig von Wroblewski was in position, though not in public estimation, the most important man in the town; for the people could not pardon certain traits which, good in themselves, were not in him because of his office. While many men in similar position, with antiquated ideas, tried to supervise the entire parish, urging the rate-payers to improve their roads and bridges, he was of the opinion that full-grown men ought to be able to manage their own affairs best; and while they hunted down criminals, he, so it appeared, thought the consciousness of crime sufficient punishment for the evil-doer. Squabbles about money and land were painful to him also, if plaintiff and defendant happened to be poor people, in which case he found it best to let the case slide. When, however, it was otherwise, he gave his undivided attention; and while other judges contented themselves with acting upon the written case, he allowed each party to present his arguments cum solo. There were few judges who were so careful, under such circumstances, to be just to each. For instance, if the plaintiff brought a thousand proofs and the defendant but five hundred, he gave himself no rest till he had produced another five hundred. This, of course, delayed justice very much. If there was no other way, Herr von Wroblewski left it to fate, and cut cards about it--the highest card winning. One need not be astonished at that, for he was very much at home with cards, since every busy man must have his recreation.

Indeed, Herr von Wroblewski not only recruited himself every evening with this amusement, but mornings and afternoons as well, when he could find a partner. He played everything, but as a liberal and an enemy of bureaucracy, chiefly the forbidden games of hazard. Away from home his luck often changed, but at his own table--he lived in the bel étage of Trachtenberg's house--he always won. This curious circumstance was frequently mentioned, and did not tend to increase the respect in which he was held. Perhaps here, too, the proverb, "If good luck in play, then bad luck in love," held good with Herr von Wroblewski, for, though he had been dangerous to many ladies of the town, he could lay claim to very little tenderness within his own four walls.

His wife, Lady Anna, a stout fair lady on the verge of forty, belonged to an old Polish family, was an ardent adherent of the Metternich régime, and leaned on the church and the army. It was rather difficult for her to decide whether she would rather be supported by the fat Dominican prior, Pater Hieronymus, or the supple Rittmeister, Herr von Bariassy.

Her girlish years had been passed in the house of her aunt, the wife of the highest official in Lemberg, and she had become so agreeable to the childless pair that her grateful uncle had given her a dowry and a husband, and was so good as to provide for her even after marriage. She seemed to have preserved pleasant reminiscences of him, which possibly accounted for the freak of nature which made her eldest daughter Wanda so singularly like her dear uncle.

This influential man sustained Herr Ludwig in his office, despite the incessant complaints raised against him; and so it got to be that the worthies of the town considered themselves justified in being neither stricter nor severer than the government.

The receptions at the magistrate's house were the most brilliant in the neighborhood, no one absenting himself voluntarily. Judith used to taunt her brother with this when he expressed his contempt for the man, and even Trachtenberg would say: "You are young, and think to better the world. But when you are older you will find there is but one way of doing it, which is to better yourself. It is impossible for me to do more in our times and circumstances. Certainly, Wroblewski is a corruptible judge, a card-sharper, and a scoundrel. But would he change if I ceased to hold intercourse with him? I have never used my influence with him for evil; and when he has proposed I should be his agent in a disreputable affair, I have always declined. He brings me custom, and therefore he lives in this house rent-free. He decides in my favor when I am obliged to sue, and for that receives twenty per cent. If I declined to give that, he would recommend other manufacturers, and I should lose my eighty per cent."

"Very good! But Judith?" said Raphael. "Does your business require she should go to their receptions every Tuesday?"

"Why should I not allow her this pleasure?" was the reply. "The host is contemptible, the wife not blameless, but the guests are different. The daughters of the physician and the chemist come regularly--carefully trained daughters of good parents. They run no danger; why should your sister?"

"They not, but Judith!" How often had Raphael had these words on his tongue and withheld them! What ground could he give for his fears? He had no facts to offer, only observations which his father would have condemned as the result of prejudice.

A year passed by with these unpleasant episodes. Raphael was to visit a university, and the father decided upon Heidelberg. Bergheimer was to accompany him and remain for some months.

Trachtenberg also gave the old master another commission. He was to look out for a suitable husband for Judith. For, as she had developed into a greater beauty than the tenderest of fathers could have expected, and as he was not unmindful of his wealth, he thought no one too good for her. So, too, since he had learned to appreciate the Jews of West Germany during his journeyings there, an educated, cultivated bridegroom from that quarter was the height of his ambition.

Judith surmised nothing, partly, perhaps, because she was so filled with sorrow over the departure of her dearly loved brother. True, she was doubly eager just then in her intercourse with Christians, declining no invitation to dance or picnic; but she would have relinquished a whole year of this pleasure if Raphael had, by a single word, given her a chance to confess her penitence and love. Yet it was impossible to make this avowal without some encouragement, especially as Raphael became more and more gloomy and inaccessible, really because he was burdened with the same misery.

The day before his departure finally arrived--a sunny September day--and early that morning Judith made up her mind to pocket her pride and have the longed-for interview. A chance prevented it.

This day, ill-omened for the house of Trachtenberg, was a festival day for the other inhabitants of the town. The new lord of the manor, Count Agenor Baranowski, was to take possession of his estates. Much depended on winning his good-will, as, owing to his immense property, he was the most influential man in the province. Therefore they had decorated the houses, improved the roads, and even swept the streets.

The Jews had been most zealous in all this, and had used quantities of garlands and much colored paper, not because they were particularly in favor with him, but because he had the reputation of hating the Jews.

Raphael used his severest satire in criticising this "slavish humility," but his father differed from him. His house was the most handsomely decorated of any, and from the gables there actually flew the light-blue and silver colors of the Baranowski. But he did not interfere with Raphael, who wished to go for a walk till the comedy should have been played out; though he himself went to the triumphal arch, which had been erected near his house, so that he might welcome the count as deputy for the Jews, while Judith went to the first étage.

The magistrate's apartment did not make a very good impression by daylight. The threadbare velvet of the furniture, with dust in every nook and cranny, and the curious medley of grand and shabby furniture were very apparent. It was quite in harmony for Lady Anna, her full form squeezed into a red silk dress, and her head surmounted by a pyramid of artificial flowers, to be bustling about with a duster in her hand, giving orders to her servants and receiving her guests at the same time.

For Herr von Wroblewski had made the count's acquaintance in Lemberg, and had taken care to have the honor of receiving him in his house the very first evening. Many guests had been invited from the neighborhood, and part of them had arrived in the morning. The gentlemen were at the triumphal arch, while the ladies were to view the procession from the windows.

The handsome hostess was fuming inwardly, still she had a friendly word for all, even for Judith.

"Why, child, how pretty you have made yourself today!" she exclaimed; and in truth the girl, in a dress of blue print, looked charming. The curls, clustering around her delicate forehead, shone like spun gold, and her neck was circled by a white silk ribbon with long ends.

"And you are wearing the count's colors," she continued, playfully shaking her finger. "How clever you are!"

"A mere coincidence," stammered Judith, blushing painfully; and she spoke the truth.

Lady Anna laughed. "You need not fib about it. I only wish I had been clever enough to think of it for Wanda. It is a pity you are not coming this evening; but, as it is, there are over a hundred invited, and I shiver when I think of the supper. At any rate, I have kept a good place for you at the window," and she led her to the most distant corner, where she had stowed away some poor relations, who had to consider the invitation as an undeserved honor, and so could not grumble at the company of the Jewess.

The spectators in the street below were squeezed in between the guards of honor, composed of peasants of the vicinity, and made futile attempts to reach the triumphal arch, where the worthies of the town had taken their position--on the right the magistrate, the prior, the burgomaster, and some others; on the left Nathaniel, the rabbi, and some Jews who carried the Thora rolls under a red baldachino. Judith could not see much of it, and Lady Anna's nieces used their elbows; but, fortunately, they did not wait long.

The salvos of artillery boomed, the monastery bells began to peal, and then the committee of peasants, chosen to escort their master, appeared, followed by his carriage, from which he alighted quickly.

The burgomaster (he was the apothecary of the town) began his address. He was a small, thin man, with a shrivelled-up face, who, when silent, made one think of a sick chicken; but he had a lion's voice in his throat, and was celebrated as the Demosthenes of the countryside. He did not discredit his reputation on this occasion, as he plunged with enthusiasm into the depths of the Middle Ages, raising the query as to whether the family of the Baranowskis was more ancient than that of the Jagellon, and thus embracing a comprehensive glance over Polish history.

Count Agenor, a young, well-built man, with a sad, handsome face, which was very pale by contrast with his jet-black beard, listened attentively at first, and then began to look about him. His eyes swept the windows of the Trachtenberg house, and Judith colored violently, for she saw distinctly how his face kindled as they rested on her window. Was this for her?

Her neighbors remarked it, too, and one hissed to the other, "The colors have had effect!" She heard it distinctly, and was about to withdraw, but the apothecary just at that moment ended his speech; the crowd shouted "Huzza!" The count said a few words of thanks, and was about to enter his carriage again, when Nathaniel stepped forward.

She saw how the young nobleman turned impatiently away and looked up at her window, and again she blushed painfully.

Her father said but a few words; the count thanked him by an inclination of his head, and, preceded by his escort, he drove on. As he passed the window, he looked up and saluted, placing his hand on his jewelled konfederatka.

"It is evident he has no liking for us," Trachtenberg remarked at dinner, a few hours later; but when Raphael made another cutting observation, he said, good-humoredly, "Do you think he would like us better if, contrary to usage and good-breeding, we had taken no part in his welcome?"

Raphael made no reply, but sat looking moodier than ever, until, dinner ended, he quitted the room, going, as he said, to pack his trunks. Judith then plucked up courage and offered her assistance, somewhat flippantly, indeed, making a jest of his awkwardness.

She adopted this manner to keep up her courage and to prepare an opening for escape in case of a snub; but Raphael heard only the mockery, and answered, bitterly, that he would be able to do without help, and left the room angrily. Still she kept to her good resolutions, and was glad when another opportunity was thrown in her way.

Late that afternoon, shortly after Von Wroblewski had returned from the reception at the Baranowski castle, Wanda came running down-stairs to beg Judith, in her mother's name, to go up that evening, as several young ladies had declined just at the last moment. This had frequently occurred, and, owing to their intimacy, Judith had taken it in good part. But on this occasion she declined, since it was Raphael's last evening at home. Wanda, however, would not allow this. "You must come! Bring Raphael with you."

He had not gone on their stairs for more than a year, and that Lady Anna should invite "that gloomy follower of the Talmud" to her most brilliant party was surprising. It shot through her brain--"She is inviting him because she knows he will not go." So she answered she would accept the invitation with pleasure if she could induce Raphael to do so too.

When Wanda grew excited, protesting she scarcely dared go up-stairs with such a reply, as "mamma and papa laid such stress on her coming; papa in particular," Judith was surprised, but answered all the more obstinately, until, after repeated entreaties from Wanda, she at last went to her brother.

Her heart throbbed as she opened the door. He sat at his empty work-table, his head resting on his hand, gazing at the candles. With difficulty she made her request.

"In what good taste!" he sneered. "Of course, I will not go, but I will not prevent your going. It would be a sacrifice to you, and no pleasure to me."

His tone roused her spirit of defiance. "If it is a matter of such indifference to you, I have nothing more to say."

"But I have," he thundered, seizing her arm. "It is the last time, and therefore I will speak more plainly than I have as yet. You are no longer a child, Judith, and can you not see the rôle you play among those people? You are a Jewess, and they think no more of you than I do of our house-dog. Were you as beautiful as the Shunamite, as wise as the Queen of Sheba, and as good as an angel of the Lord, still you are a Jewess, and consequently not a being like themselves. Do you not feel that? My God, girl, are you insensible to this shame?"

"You are talking wildly," she said, contemptuously. "You are blinded by hurt pride. Of course, if one brings the air of the Ghetto into a drawing-room, one ought not to complain," and she attempted to free her arm.

But he held her. "Go on!" he said. "Say what you like, my tender sister, but then listen to me. Do you understand why they invite you? Just inquire of my father's ledger."

"The old story," she exclaimed, and tore her arm away.

"Well, then," he cried, in great excitement, "listen to something else, which I have kept from you. You are not a child, but a full-grown, beautiful girl, Judith--beautiful and a Jewess. Have you really never noticed that these young cavaliers treat you differently from the Christian ladies, that they allow themselves more liberties?"

She stood motionless, breathing hard. "You lie!" she ejaculated.

"I would to God I did!" he answered, clasping his hands in despair. "Then I could travel to-morrow with an easier conscience. Be warned, my sister! That gentleman up-stairs does not only invite you because he owes father his rent, but also because the young gentlemen whose money he wins like to have fun with the beautiful Jewess. Guard your soul, my sister; guard your honor; you will not have been the first that--"

She had listened to him as if paralyzed with indignation. Now she stepped up to him, her face so pale and distorted that he shrank back involuntarily.

She wished to speak, but her voice failed her. "May God forgive you!" she at last ejaculated, hoarsely, and staggeringly left the room.

Hurrying to her own room, she bolted the door and lay down upon the bed. There she stayed in the darkness for at least two hours, fighting with her emotions. Anger at her insulted pride and the unjust accusations raged through her pulses; her fingers twisted together as if she were throttling her insulter.

But it was Raphael, and that it was he, her most beloved creature on earth, who had so stained her innocent pleasures and herself, caused the tears to well to her eyes.

But were these tears as innocent as they seemed? Up to that hour Judith had been one of the purest of Nature's children; her blood suggested no evil desire, nor did her fancy paint alluring pictures. Her innocence had draped her eyes like a veil. But now the veil, indeed, was not rent, but it grew more and more transparent the more she pondered on these things. Her cheeks burned more from shame than from tears, and she was forced to surrender herself helplessly to these ugly thoughts.

But this accusation, painful as it was, roused her. Her anger reasserted itself--her anger and defiance--and pushed everything else into the background. She would think no more about it; she did not wish to know if he were right; he was not right, of that she was sure. He was blinded by his antipathy to Christians. She was blameless, and was she to be buried alive to gratify him?

Just then she heard Wanda knocking at her door and begging her to hasten. Answering "I will be there directly," she washed the tears from her cheeks, called her maid, and dressed.

When she entered the drawing-room, a half-hour later, Lady Anna came to meet her, supported by the church. "At last!" she exclaimed, delightedly. "And this must be your lucky day. I have rarely seen you look so pretty." In fact, her excitement had imparted an additional charm to her lovely face.

The stout cleric grinned like a faun, and stroked chin. "Ha, ha! how her cheeks glow! Does her little heart beat so wildly?" He seemed inclined to prove the truth of his assertion.

Judith turned deathly pale, and stepped back.

"What do you mean?" Lady Anna whispered to her worthy admirer, who had evidently just come from the buffet. She glanced around, and saw they were forming a quadrille. Count Baranowski was fulfilling the disagreeable duty of dancing with the voluminous wife of the thin burgomaster.

"Who knows," said Lady Anna, smiling, "what honor would have been yours if you had come earlier; now you must content yourself with young Wolczinski. Wladko!"

The tall, clumsy fellow stumbled up hastily. "You will dance this quadrille with Judith."

He hesitated. "I am--I have--" he stammered.

"What? already engaged?"

"No, but--"

"What then? too tired?" Lady Anna's eyes had not the pleasantest expression in the world just then. "Well, will you? Allons!"

He shrugged his shoulders, and offered his arm to the girl. Judith followed him with bowed head, as if crushed by the humiliation. "Have I experienced these things before, and now for the first time notice them?"

Wladko had, indeed, been rude to her often; both he and his sisters had cut her dead. But she had not taken it to heart, for she knew the reason. The head of the family, Herr Severin von Wolczinski, who had gotten rid of all his property with the exception of one small estate in close proximity to the town, had begged in vain for a loan from Nathaniel. The manufacturer's answer had always been the same. He would throw the account for goods received into the fire, but, on principle, he refused to lend money.

The young gentleman did not speak; he even avoided looking at his partner. At last he conceived a bright idea. "'Pon my honor," he exclaimed, "now I recognize you. The candles burn badly. They are miserable stuff. Supplied, no doubt, by some cheating Jew for more than they are worth."

Judith drew a long breath. "My father supplied them. They are both good and cheap, although he is often swindled of hard-earned money by some knavish nobleman."

The bystanders became attentive, which annoyed "Wladko still more.

"A nobleman never swindles," he asserted.

"Oh, yes, at times they do. Ordering goods which one can never pay for is swindling."

Some laughed. The prior, too, came staggering up, for he had just been visiting the buffet again, and could scarcely stand. "Wladko," he hiccoughed, "what are you quarrelling with the pretty Jewess about? You should kiss and make up."

"Do you really think so?" The young fellow laughed nervously. The next moment he had thrown his arms around her form and had kissed her on the neck. The brave deed was rewarded by loud laughter and clapping of hands.

Pale as death, and trembling from head to foot, Judith tore herself free. "What a cowardly, knavish, trick!" she exclaimed, indignantly.

"You are right!" said a deep, sonorous voice, so loudly that it was distinctly heard above the noise. "It was a mean, cowardly trick!"

The speaker was Agenor Baranowski.

"Monsieur le Comte!" exclaimed Wladko.

"I am at your service whenever you like. Will you do me the honor of taking my arm, mademoiselle?"

He led her through the guests, who silently made way for them.

"Where may I conduct you?" he inquired. "Is your mother here?"

"I have no mother. But I live in the house."

"I know you are the daughter of Herr Trachtenberg, who welcomed me so pleasantly to-day. Well, then, shall I take you to your housekeeper?"

"No, only as far as the stairs, please," for she felt her strength failing her.

He accompanied her to the stairs, and took leave of her with a profound bow.

"But, Judith!" called Lady Anna, rushing out of the room.

The girl did not hear her, and the count had returned to the salon.