The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 12, 1904, Page 1

HIS Is the Hrst Instaliment of “The Pugitive,” a pew .novel by Ezra 8. Brudno, which has been ‘completed less than three months, but which has already be- come ome of the most talked of books im both Europe and America because of the masterful way b 2 it de- cts the life of the Jews both in Rus- and New York and which Mr. ers, the head of the book depart- t at the porium, declares will be one of the biggest ‘selling books of 1 be published complete in five in order to make its the more notable, Mr. just arrived from Aus- from beginning to style, exclusively for 10 is himsel e best known artis For over ten years he with the Sydney Bul- v character, while for the last 18" been on the staff , published by the multi- David ' Symes, in. Me he gained even gr for his cartoons of n general, as well as for icles from his pen which ngs. n profes: he best scenic ainted for the accompanied same time he is k as a«pupil of one « artists: that has ever big theaters in Austral Thus under the Sunc eral and progressive literary policy of giving its readers the very latest high class literature by the pest writers of the day, there has been secured not only a:-brand new novel, by a writer who is said to have faid bare the in- Call’s lib- ner, secrets of his own life in “The Fugi ” but the art work of a man equa famous from another far dis- tant quarters of the globe, both brought, together for the first time in one edition to picture the sorrows and sufferings, the ideals and the his- tory of their own race, as well as to reveal the secret of the cause and the effect of their ceaseless persecution through the ages. CHAPTER L OSE MY FATHER. S dip my pen to begin the nar- » ative of my life, the heavy cur- f time rises and scenes of ihood crowd my mem- back again In far- d I see, as clearly my moral squalor. native It is insignificant onplace, with thatched log bouses ' 8 ved muddy alley with a < eynagogue and a b church; with a 5 bath-house and a well- fortified jail; with 2 pond in which b ws aliernately bathe in on which the former skate I with a tall black cross standing somberly iu the center of the market-place; with a hissing water- (which is regularly flooded every g) at one end of the town, and a long-armed windmill (which almost as ularly burns down every winter) at other end; with encompassing vluish-green forests, waving wheat- Y elds, and blossoming orchards—in short, but for the last, old, dirty, leth- argic, typically Lithuanian. However, as a hint to lovers of chronological research, I state that in the place where I first saw light, ‘the famous Corsican, in his escape from cold Russia, is said to have changed horses. So, after all, my native town deserves a place in the world’s history almost as important ‘as that accorded to Austerlitz. ¥or if chance had or- dainéd otherwise and the great con- querer had not found speedy trotters in birthplace, think what & change in nineteenth century! Eut enough of the Corsican. Let me return to the Lithuani.n, however dis- paraging to the warrior. As the reader will presently learn, my name, Yisroel (the Hebrew for Israel), had many va- riations. Its diminutive was Ishrolke, which for convenlerce sake was short- ened to Shrolke. This my schoolmaves thought still too long, so my name among them was Shroll. Frequently I was endearingly called Yisroltchikle, Isroltchick or Isrolkels, Recalling this little old town and the names by which I was known there, the past bursts before me like a shell, and my mind fills with memorable events of my early life. Some of these events are tly removed me g 4 AN NEW NOVEL, . 9 LIFE IN RULTA AMERICA, BERT M~ EV Y WORLD FAMOUWS HEBREW JSKETCH ARTIST ILL\UJS TRATED Y vague and fragmentary, like half-for- gotten dreams, and others stand out most vividly, as if they had occurred but yesterday. How I remember the passover of my fifth vear. It appears to me like a cloud with a silvery seam. The day before this passover was the happlest of my childhood. I see myself standing on the long, balustered porch, watching a bird that skipped from pop- lar to poplar In front of my father's house. :The thick ice that had covered the earth for more than five months had almost’ entirely melted, and was flowing In broad crystal streams and bubbling beneath a fine glacial sheet which was not as yet washed away. Here and thers the bits of bare earth, like so many tiny islands, looked black and spongy, and were slowly drying under the piercing glances of the sun. But I was soon lured into the house; the rattling of dishes fell on my ears like sweet music. I ran into the kitch- en. All the dishes and cooking uten- sils that had been used during the year were carried to the attic, and new plates, pots and pans, which had laid packed in hay since the preceding pass- over, were . cleansed .-and polished. While these yreparations were .being made I wa. runni.g about the house in bolsterous mirth, end in my efforts to make myself useful I hroke sundry . articles.: My ,mother : scolded softly, and, smiling all the ‘while, gen- To_ hide my em ment I dipped the new tumbler into the “passover tank” and swallowed a mouthful of the deliclous “passover water.” Then my father appeared in the doorway and saild: ‘““Come, my child; I have some- thing nice for you.” J followed him to the adjolning room, where I was pre- sented . with an Arba-Kanfas, the fringes of whieh my father had taken great delight in tying in the traditioral ' knots and twists. As he handed me this “four-corner’” garment he said In Hebrew: “Wear it that ye may remem- ber, and do all my ecommandments and be holy unto your God.” "Then came the Seder—the ceremony of the first evening of passover. Our dining-room was illuminated by scores of candles stuck in antique chandeliers hung from the ceiling. = At the head of the table sat my- father, robed in a white shroud-like garment, leaning on his left arm and reading from a book. An embroidered skull cap was tilted on the back of his head, leaving bare his high and broad, smooth forehead; and his genial countenance was beaming with good humor and happiness -as he glanced at his small family. As I now think of it, it seems to me that I could read his very thoughts as he passed his fingers through his black beard: “Be- hold, ‘thus shall man be blessed that: feareth the Lord.” My amother, with diamonds twinkling in her ears,.read the Hagodo (the' tale of Israel's bondage and exodus) as fast a8 she could in order to catch up #ith father, pausing only now and then to point out, to me the illustrations of the ten plagues and that of Pharach sink- ing into the sea. At the sight of these pictures I clapped my hands in gleeful satisfaction over the punishment this tyrant, the oppressor of my forefathers, ‘had recetved from the mighty hand of Jehovah. But the happiness we felt was not unmixed; with it there was some hid- den sorrow. My-brother Joseph, who wag about twelve years my senlor, was - absent from the“fable. “There had al- ways been some differences between my father-and him, and of late the breach widened on dccount of ‘my brother's intimacy ‘with: the sledevatel (a Russian officer filling the position of our Grand Jury andsthat of the-Coroner) against whom ' my* father held a number of overdue promisgory notes. However, despite the ruptdre, my mother enter- tained an.undpoken hope that he come home this night to join in the passover feast; and when, later in the evening, there came a sound of steps without, she rose ' eagerly and whispered: “Joseph is coming."” * *“It is not Joseph's step,” my father answered gloomily. A moment later the door opened and two'-officers entered. ' My’ father rose and saluted them {n a courteous though hesitating manner. ““What brings you to my house at this hour, Feodor Ivan- owitoh?” ‘my father- asked of the su- perior- officer. . . Sevtlevs” o My mother trembled perceptibly, ana sald to my father ip an underfone: “Something must have happened to Joseph.” “I am on a bad errand this evening.” was the short reply of the gendarme, given with a look which made plain that it was not my brother who was the occasion of the visit. My father paled at the glance. Now as I write I can see him before me, robed in a loose white shroud, a fearful stare in his shrewd blue eyes, his right hand clutching the girdle around his loins as he staggered back a step or two. I clung to my mother’s skirt and looked at the gendarmes In trembling fright. “Really, Yudel Abramowitch,” sald the superior of the two gendarmes, “it is the most unpleasant duty of my life to be compelled to read an indictment to you.” Anc he turned his eyes away from my father’s. “An indictment! father cried. My mother burst into tears and wrung her hands hysterically; and I, though comprehending no real cause for grief, joined in her walling. The officer drew a writ from his up- turned sleeve, and after reading the caption and legal rigmarole he recited in a firm voice: “You = Yudel Abramo- witch, are hereby accused and must an- swer to the charge of being complicated in the ritual murder of Andrew, & Christian_child.” My father did not say a word; he raised his hand to his forehead and ‘emitted a deep groan. A minute or more of silence ensued, during which my father looked as if he were strug- gling to regain his wits. He cast a dazed, helpless glance at mother, then at me. The gendarmes interchanged commu- nicative signs; then one of them sald gruffly: “Come, you'll have to hurry!" My father fell on my mother’s neck and wept bitterly, and after pressing me to his breast and wetting my cheeks with his tearful kisses, he raised his hands heavenward and cried: “My en- emies have set a trap for me, but the Infallible Judge knows my heart— knows my innocence. He will not see Justice perverted.” 5 The officers made no reply, but led him'away bowed and sobbing. And all that night, I remember, we sat thers ‘beside the richly spread table, I holding closely in my mother's arms and she moaning convulsively all the while, My father was not the only one ar- rested that night. Nine of the oldest and ' most prominent ‘members of the Jewish community - were "also thrown Against me?™ my TRANSLATION Wenr it that Yyemay remembenr and do all my: / comman e ments iismb be holy unto Youre God into Jafl on the same charge. And the following morning the startling fact was learned that my brother Joseph and a peasant who had once been my father’s coachman wers the prosecu- ting witnesses. The prima facle evi- dence was strong enough without their testimony, as the body of the murdered child had been found hidden in the ark among the scrolls of the law. Special mass was held a number of times, and fasts were proclalmed, but even the most hopeful could see no rellef for my father, since his own flesh and blood testifled against him. Little of consequence happened Im- mediately after my father’s imprison- ment. My brother never came back to us, and I learned from our servants that he was ltving with the sledevatel and that he was going to de baptized and marry his niece, who was reputed one of the handsomest girls in our vi- cinity. In our house everything looked dreary and forsaken; my mother went about with a grief-stricken face, the servants walked on tiptos, and every- body whe visited us seemed but to en- hance our sadness. Our most frequent visitor was Mr. Nicholaleff, a lawyer, to whom my mother occasionally gave a roll of money, which he would pocket without counting, and always with the remirk that he hoped te be able to “grease the officlal paws.” Months rolled by, and still no definite time was set: for the trial of the pris- oners. ~ The prospects of their release brightened, however, when a rumer started that my brother had run away to parts unknown. A fast was pro- claimed, s.d the lawyer, Nicholaleff, got another big roll of money with which to “grease the officlal paws.” Then, when everything looked promis- ing, ‘we were stricken down- with'the report that my father had been found hanging in his cell, and, what was still more terrible, that he had left & ‘written confession of his sole gullt. The other prisoners were ins.antly re- leased. To us who still bellieved in my father’s innocence the mystery of the ritual murder became ‘ darker and darker; and the bitgerest gloom. settled closer and closer ut my mother and me. CHAPTER IL I-AM- LEFT ALONE IN THS WORLD. After this tragic end of my father a great and rapld change took place in my mother. Her noble Semitic face bes camme shrunken and sallow and wrin- ‘kled, and her soft bright eyes, dimmed with weeping, lost their gentle luster.