The San Francisco call., 1904-07-03
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ger If I should take good care OF my
self
one night. after I had spent two or
three hours in aimless wandering, l de-
cided to go to a cafe on East Broadway
which 1 frequented and rest for While
over a glass of tea. One could get mere
a good glass of tea for cents ana redu
Russian. German and English papers
TO his hearts content, and here one
was likely to meet at any time OF the
day and before 2 o'clock in the morn
ing Russian Jewish students who fled
from gymnasiums and universities. and
some from Siberia, discussing social
iSm anarchism, philosophy, renglon
and noetry. The restaurant was owned
by a Russian, who, while waiting on
customers, usually took part in all the
discussions, and could not determine
himself whether he was an anarchist,
socialist, pessimist, or philosopher. lie
had been a student at Lodi, Poland,
and later had titled the stony fields or
Palestine a few years
Coming in now, found the cafe Well
filled.
Presently when 1 looked up my eyes
were caught Immediately by a new
conner who had just Joined the group
of young men. His back was toward
me, but glance at him was sufficient
1 hurriedly rose from my chair ana
clapped my hand upon his shoulder.
"Ephraim!" 1 cried joyously.
He looked about, then sprang to his
feet. why, Israel! You in America?
Without waiting for my reply, he ex-
cused himself and we went off to his
room, talking volubly all the while.
II thought you were digging gold for
the Gar" L remarked when we had
taken off our hats and settled into
comfortable chairs.
L., L. IoI nd
thought Siberia would be too cold for
me-"
He coughed violently, and took off
his glasses, which he put carefully on
his desk.
1 observed his face by the yellowish
light of the lamp that burned on the
desk, and a shudder passed through
me. 1t was thin and haggard; his
long hair was neglected; his mus
tache was heavy and long, which made
his cheeks appear still more hollow.
But his eyes glittered with the same
old fire.
How did you escape? How did you
come here? What have you been doing
since?" L showered questions at him.
Il have not as many adventures to
tell of as you imagine" Ephraim said,
feigning to smile. II was confined
about seven months in a dark and
filthy cell, in which big rats kept me
company and had occasional fights
over crust of bread that the turnkey
had brought me. They claimed share
and share alike. and / never denied
them their rights.
He paused and his face resumed
bitter expression.
But 1 did come out after seven
months of brooding and reflection" he
resumed. There was no strong evil
dence against me, so 1 was released.
I froe 7 he cd ffN
Levinski. He left for Palestine his
housekeeper told me. l tried to find
friend after friend. In Palestine or
in America were the answers 1 got
everywhere. 1 had hardly an acquaint-
ance left in Kieff 1 hardly knew what
to do. Weak from my long confine
ment, made friendlesS by Russian bar
barism, grew respondent and thought
of suicide. l am ashamed Of myself
now; but you must remember the con-
dition ] was in. carried poison about
me for days, but finally 1 regained con-
troll of myself and decided to come to
this country.
Later in the evening our talk turned
to religion, and 1 was surprised that he
hated reformed Judaism even more
than he hated orthodox Judaism in the
old days at Javolin and Kieff.
$50 you are against reformed Juda-
ism and you advocate the old belief"
1 casually remarked, laughing as 1 said
this.
He looked at me seriously for a mo-
ment and his pale cheeks colored.
Lighting cigarette, he puffed violent
ly in silence for a while. Then he fixed
his fiery eyes upon me and, while
spurts of smoke issued rapidly from
his mouth, he said: Yes, 1 am against
American reformed Judaism as such.
1 don't object to it as a separate
creed. or rather the aping of a creed.
but it is not religion-to be sure, not
the religion of Judaism. Religion, and
Judaism in particular, is poetry-and
nothing but poetry. Or rather 1t is
poetry for one and science for another.
To the philosopher, searcher after
truth, 1t is dry science ad finem,
proved by algebraic formulas, and by
the process of elimination gives a big
zero. To mankind at large, in its pres
ent state of development, 1t is poetry
pure and simple-poetry which cannot,
must not be analyZed by mathemati-
cal process. Religion. no more than the
Divine Comedy or Paradise Lost can
be reduced to prosaic accuracy. For as
soon as we attempt to inquire into
their truth Dante and Milton become
maniacs."
He spoke bitterly, brilliantly, puff
ing at cigarette after cigarette and in
haling all the smoke, his hair tumbled.
his eyes darting fire, his body all
aquiver from intellectual passion.
listened to him till o'clock.
Friendless as / was, l was glad in
deed to meet Razovski again. How
ever, he could pffer me no aid, so I had
to continue my blind search for a job
So my financial condition grew acute
and despair began to take hold Of me.