The Blockade of Phalsburg: An Episode of the End of the Empire, Page 3

  III

  A CIRCUMCISION FEAST

  So I wrote to Pezenas. This is a southern city, rich in wools, wines,and brandies. The price of brandies at Pezenas controls that of allEurope. A trading man ought to know that, and I knew it, because I hadalways liked to read the list of prices in the newspapers. I sent toM. Quataya, at Pezenas, for a dozen pipes of spirits of wine. Icalculated that, after paying the freight, a pipe would cost me athousand francs, delivered in my cellar.

  As I had sold no iron for a year, I disposed of my merchandise withoutasking anything for it; the payment of the twelve thousand francs didnot trouble me. Only, Fritz, those twelve thousand francs were half myfortune, and you may suppose that it required some courage to risk inone venture the gains of fifteen years.

  As soon as my letter was gone, I wished I could bring it back, but itwas too late. I kept a good face before my wife, and said, "It willall do well! We shall gain double, triple, etc."

  She, too, kept a good face, but we both had misgivings; and during thesix weeks necessary for the receipt of the acknowledgment andacceptance of my order, and the arrival of the spirits of wine, everynight I lay awake, thinking, "Moses, you have lost everything! You areruined from top to toe!"

  The cold sweat would cover my body. Still, if any one had come to meand said, "Be easy, Moses, I will relieve you of this business," Ishould have refused, because my hope of gain was as great as my fear ofloss. And by this you may know who are the true merchants, the truegenerals, and all who accomplish anything. Others are but machines forselling tobacco, or filling glasses, or firing guns.

  It all comes to the same thing. One man's glory is as great asanother's. This is why, when we speak of Austerlitz, Jena or Wagram,it is not a question of Jean Claude or Jean Nicholas, but of Napoleonalone; he alone risked everything, the others risked only being killed.

  I do not say this to compare myself with Napoleon, but the buying ofthese twelve pipes of spirits of wine was my battle of Austerlitz.

  And when I think that, on reaching Paris, Napoleon had demanded fourhundred and forty millions of money, and _six hundred thousand men_!and that then everybody, understanding that we were threatened with aninvasion, undertook to sell and to make money at any cost, while Ibought, unhampered by the example of others--when I think of this, I amproud of it still and congratulate myself.

  It was in the midst of these disquietudes that the day for thecircumcision of little Esdras arrived. My daughter Zeffen hadrecovered, and Baruch had written to us not to trouble ourselves, forthey would come to Phalsburg.

  My wife then hastened to prepare the meats and cakes for the festival:the _bie-kougel_, the _haman_, and the _schlachmoness_, which are greatdelicacies.

  On my part, I had tested my best wine on the old Rabbi Heymann, and Ihad invited my friends, Leiser of Mittelbronn and his wife Boune,Senterle Hirsch, and Professor Burguet. Burguet was not a Jew, but hewas worthy of being one on account of his genius and extraordinarytalents.

  When a speech was wanted in the Emperor's progress, Burguet made it;when songs were needed for a national festival, Burguet composed thembetween two sips of beer; when a young candidate for law or medicinewas perplexed in writing his thesis, he went to Burguet, who wrote itfor him, whether in French or in Latin; when fathers and mothers wereto be moved to tears at the distribution of school prizes, Burguet wasthe man to do it; he would take a blank sheet of paper, and read them adiscourse on the spot, such as nobody else could have written in tenyears; when a petition was to be made to the Emperor or prefect,Burguet was the first man thought of; and when Burguet took the troubleto defend a deserter before the court-martial at the mayoralty, thedeserter, instead of being shot on the bastion of the barracks, waspardoned.

  After all this, Burguet would return and take his part in piquet withthe little Jew, Solomon, at which he always lost; and people troubledthemselves no more about him.

  I have often thought that Burguet must have greatly despised those towhom he took off his hat. Yes, to see the fellows putting on importantairs because they were rural guard or secretary of the mayoralty, musthave made a man like him laugh in his sleeve. But he never told me so;he knew the ways of the world too well.

  He was an old constitutional priest, a tall man, with a noble figureand very fine voice; the very tones of it would move you in spite ofyourself. Unfortunately, he did not take care of his own interests; hewas at the mercy of the first comer. How many times I have said to him:

  "Burguet, in heaven's name, don't get mixed up with thieves! Burguet,don't let yourself be robbed by simpletons! Trust me about yourcollege expenses. When anybody comes to impose upon you I will be onthe spot; I will pay the bills and hand you the account."

  But he did not think of the future, and lived very carelessly.

  I had thus invited all my old friends for the morning of thetwenty-fourth of November, and they all came to the festival.

  The father and mother, with the little infant, and its godfather andgodmother, came early, in a large carriage. By eleven the ceremony hadtaken place in our synagogue, and we all, in great joy andsatisfaction, for the child had not uttered a cry, returned together tomy house, which had been made ready beforehand--the large table on thefirst floor, the meats in their pewter dishes, the fruits in theirbaskets--and we had begun in great glee to celebrate the happy day.

  The old Rabbi Heymann, Leiser, and Burguet sat at my right, my littleSafel, Hirsch, and Baruch at my left, and the women Sorle, Zeffen,Jetele, and Boune, facing us on the other side, according to thecommand of the Lord, that men and women should be separate atfestivities.

  Burguet, with his white cravat, his handsome maroon coat and hisruffled shirt, did me honor. He made a speech, raising his voice andmaking fine gestures like a great orator--telling of the ancientcustoms of our nation, of our religious ceremonies, of _Paecach_ (thefeast of Passover), of _Rosch-haschannah_ (the New Year), of _Kippour_(the day of expiation), like a true _Ied_ (Jew), thinking our religionvery beautiful and glorifying the genius of Moses.

  He knew the _Lochene Koidech_ (Chaldaic) as well as a _bal-kebole_(cabalistic doctor).

  The Saverne people turned to their neighbors and asked in a whisper:

  "Pray, who is this man who speaks with authority, and says such finethings? Is he a rabbi? Is he a _schamess_ (Jewish beadle)? or is hethe _parness_ (civil head) of your community?"

  And when they learned he was not one of us, they were astonished. Theold Rabbi Heymann alone was able to answer him, and they agreed on allpoints, like learned men talking on familiar subjects and conscious oftheir own learning.

  Behind us, on its grandmother's bed, inside of the curtains, slept ourlittle Esdras, with his sweet face and little clinched hands--slept sosoundly, that neither our shouts of laughter, nor the talking, nor thesound of the glasses could wake him. Sometimes one, sometimes another,went to look at him, and everybody said:

  "What a beautiful child! He looks like his grandfather Moses!"

  That pleased me, of course; and I would go and look at him, bendingover him for a long while, and finding a still stronger resemblance tomy father.

  At three o'clock, the meats having been removed and the delicaciesspread upon the table, as we came to the dessert, I went down to find abottle of better wine, an old bottle of Rousillon which I dug out fromunder the others, all covered with dust and cobwebs. I took it upcarefully and placed it among the flowers on the table, saying:

  "You thought the other wine very good; what will you say to this?"

  Then Burguet smiled, for old wine was his special delight; he stretchedup his hand and exclaimed:

  "Oh! noble wine, the consoler, the restorer and benefactor of poor menin this vale of misery! Oh, venerable bottle, thou bearest all thesigns of old nobility!"

  He said this with his mouth full, and everybody laughed.

  I asked Sorle to bring the corkscrew.

  As she was rising, suddenly trumpets sounded without, and we all
listened and asked, "What is that?"

  At the same time the sound of many horses' steps came up the street,and the earth and the houses trembled under an enormous weight.

  Everybody sprang up, throwing down their napkins and rushing to thewindows.

  And from the French gate to the little square we saw trains ofartillerymen advancing, with their great shakos covered with oil-cloth,and their saddles in sheepskins and driving caissons full of roundshot, shells and intrenching tools.

  Imagine, Fritz, my thoughts at that moment!

  "This is war, my friends!" said Burguet. "This is war! It is coming!Our turn has come, at the end of twenty years!"

  I stood leaning down with my hand on the stone, and thought:

  "Now the enemy cannot delay coming. These are sent to fortify theplace. And what if the allies surround us before I have received myspirits of wine? What if the Austrians or Russians should stop thewagons and seize them? I should have to pay for it all the same, and Ishould not have a farthing left!"

  I turned pale at the thought. Sorle looked at me, undoubtedly havingthe same fears, but she said nothing.

  We stood there till they all passed by. The street was full. Some oldsoldiers, Desmarets the Egyptian, Paradis the gunner, Rolfo, Faisardthe sapper, of the Beresina, as he was called, and some others, cried"Vive l'Empereur!"

  Children ran behind the wagons, repeating the cry, "Vive l'Empereur!"But the greater number, with closed lips and serious faces, looked onin silence.

  When the last carriage had turned the Fouquet corner, all the crowdreturned with bowed heads; and we in the room looked at each other,with no wish to continue the feast.

  "You are not well, Moses," said Burguet. "What is the matter?"

  "I am thinking of all the evils which are coming to the city."

  "Bah! don't be afraid," he replied. "We shall be strongly defended!And then, God help us! what can't be cured must be endured! Come!cheer up; this old wine will keep up our spirits."

  We resumed our places. I opened the bottle, and it was as Burguetsaid. The old Rousillon did us good, and we began to laugh.

  Burguet called out:

  "To the health of the little Esdras! May the Lord cover him with hisright hand!"

  And the glasses clinked. Some one exclaimed: "May he long rejoice thehearts of his grandfather Moses and his grandmother Sorle! To theirhealth!"

  We ended by looking at everything in rose-color, and glorifying theEmperor, who was hastening to defend us, and was soon going to crushall the beggars beyond the Rhine.

  But it is equally true that, when we separated about five o'clock,everybody had become serious, and Burguet himself, when he shook handswith me at the foot of the stairs, looked anxious.

  "We shall have to send home our pupils," said he, "and we must sit withour arms folded."

  The Saverne people, with Zeffen, Baruch, and the children, got intotheir carriage, and started silently for home.