S. Agnon - A Book that Was Lost

Morning prayers are early. The old teacher and cantor stands before the holy ark and chants the Torah. The privilege of participating in this part of the service is assigned carefully to avoid controversy, for there was once a feud that all but destroyed this community. A system of turns was thereupon instituted, which applied to everyone, with the exception of Herr Gundersheimer and old Neidermeir the Butcher, who were called up to the Torah every week when they were in town. (One of them being of priestly descent, the other from the tribe of Levi, they were granted this special privilege bestowed by the Torah.) After the service, everyone goes home in peace, blesses the government, indulges in the array of dishes that adorn the table only on the Sabbath and holidays. In winter, when the days are short, the Sabbath passes without much ado. By the time the afternoon prayers are concluded it is time for the evening round. The cycle of ordinary days, given not for rest and pleasure but for sorrow and toil, begins again.

2

But in the summer Katzenau changes its aspect, somewhat for the better. This small village, situated among mountains, locked in by forests, isolated from the world four or five months a year by snow, storms, and winds, has a twin sister: Bad Katzenau, with medicinal springs flowing through its soil. From all over the country people throng to drink the water and bathe in it. Local landowners built villas which they rented out, planted gardens, built a hall and hired musicians to entertain their guests. People came there from Katzenau to promenade and to hear the music. When Old Man Gundersheimer and Neidermeir the Butcher opened inns in Bad Katzenau, guests who observe dietary laws could go there too. And people from the neighboring community went there to meet their fellow Jews.

Herr Gundersheimer and Herr Neidermeir live together in peace. And when necessary they help each other, either because they are inundated with guests and have no reason to envy one another or because they are in the habit of cooperating. The one, a Kohen, is of priestly lineage; the other, a Levite, is trained to pour water on the hands of the priest when he goes up to the pulpit, while the Kohen is trained to include the Levite with the rest of Israel in his priestly blessing.

From the time Bad Katzenau became a health spa, and travelers — among them, Jews — began to come there for a cure, the people of Katzenau began to go there too. On weekdays they were occupied with business and were not free. But on the Sabbath, the day being long and idle, a man would take his wife, sons, and daughters, and go for a walk among the trees, gardens, and flowers, passing guests, seeing new faces, and hearing worthwhile conversation. Occasionally a rabbi would come there to mend his body. The people of the town of Katzenau, who were not numerous enough to hire their own rabbi, would come to meet him. One of the town elders would sometimes kneel to kiss the rabbi’s hand and, noting how soft and delicate it was, would wonder about the benefits of this occupation. All week long everyone waited eagerly for the hour on the Sabbath when the entire community would set out for the spa. The distance between the two towns of Katzenau was not great. A sizable pine forest provided shade, and it was not a strain even for women, old people, or children to walk from one town to the other. As they passed through the forest, whose trees offered shade along with a fine fragrance and frolicking birds, they began to feel expansive. Their tongues came to life; their bodies, bent by the weight of merchandise and bowed by dealings with customers, became erect. All the more so upon returning from the spa and remembering a bon mot gleaned from one of the guests. The good Lord created a vast world, with many people in it whom He scattered wide, giving each place its singular quality and endowing every man with singular wisdom. You leave home and meet people from another place, and your mind is expanded by what you hear.

3

The great war, a blow to the wicked and the good alike, did not bypass Katzenau — least of all its Jews, who, from the onset of the war, were eager and anxious to defend their land. Those who were of age were called to serve in the ranks of the military; those who were too young volunteered, leaving behind only women, children, the elderly, and several citizens whose services were essential to the town. The community was overcome with sadness, now that all of its youths were gone. Some small comfort was derived from the weekly excursions, on the Sabbath afternoons, to the watering place, where there were new faces as well as information and commentary on the progress of the war.

In truth there was a further advantage in being there. In most areas of the country there were food shortages, whereas Katzenau was located in Bavaria, where bread, meat, milk products, and fruit were abundant. People would come from all over to this watering place to restore their bodies and eat their fill.

For this same reason and at this very time, one Isidor Shalthier, of Frankfurt, arrived in Katzenau. Herr Isidor Shalthier taught young children in a local elementary school, but he had great aspirations. The great things, however, had already been done by others, leaving nothing for Herr Shalthier to discover. He had no choice but to avert his mind from great things and deal with his frail, declining body, for teaching is a difficult profession, all the more so in wartime, when fathers make war and children do as they please. Herr Gundersheimer, the old innkeeper, treated him graciously and was generous with all manner of food and drink, beyond what he was paid for. The teacher spent his time sleeping, drinking, eating. Between meals he would sit on a lounge chair in the garden, coaxing his eyes to sleep. After a few days, his body feeling heavy with food, drink, and sleep, he began to walk between meals to speed up digestion and ready himself for new nourishment. It was wartime and most city dwellers had already forgotten what proper food is like. Finding himself in a place where food was plentiful, he needed many strategies to absorb his ample diet. So Herr Shalthier took walks between meals to relax his body. He was also careful not to tax his mind and, rather than think about anything that required the slightest strain, he would count either his footsteps or the telegraph wires. For the soul is not content with earthly matters and tends to elevate itself, soaring to the heights of the universe.

In the course of these walks, Herr Isidor Shalthier found himself in the town of Katzenau. He sniffed the scent of warm bread, followed his nose, and arrived at the door of a Jewish baker. He knocked, entered, and, as he was obviously a decent fellow, was welcomed warmly. The baker, hearing he was a teacher and furthermore that he was from Frankfurt, was extremely respectful. He was served cold milk, cake, bread, butter, and cheese, which he ate, drank, and enjoyed even as he bemoaned the plight of his wife and tender children who, while he was eating bread, butter, and cheese, and drinking rich milk, had barely enough dry crusts to eat — for in the big cities anyone who isn’t well connected has nothing to eat. Moved by the plight of the teacher’s wife and children, the baker and his wife took a dozen eggs, a pound of butter and cheese, and various other goods, wrapped them in paper, and said: There is a post office nearby and, if it isn’t too much trouble, he could mail the package to his family. And, if the distance isn’t too great for him, he could come every week and this effort would surely be rewarded. As they spoke, Herr Dingsfelder, the baker’s neighbor, appeared. He was envious and said, “Absolutely not. Next week the teacher must do me the honor, for a package is ready and waiting. It was prepared for my son but I can’t send it. My son, Rheinholdi, may his life be long, is a prisoner in the hands of our accursed enemies the French. We don’t know just where he is. But the honored teacher must promise not to divulge this agreement to anyone.” Herr Dingsfelder was afraid others in the town would snatch this good deed out from under him. And he was right to worry. For, in those sorrowful times, many hands were seeking out acts of charity and generosity. But his joy betrayed him. Two or three hours later all of Katzenau was aware that a man had appeared through whom good deeds could be done. Every householder searched and found things to give the teacher. Henceforth, Herr Shalthier was a regular guest in the town. Not a week passed without his coming to Katzenau nor was there anyone in Katzenau who did not give him a portion of his bread, butter, eggs, and other foodstuffs. As he walked to Katzenau and back, Herr Shalthier thought many thoughts about what he had been given to eat and drink, also about his wife who was lucky to have such a husband, one who remembers her from afar with packages laden with goodies.