S. Agnon - A Book that Was Lost

4

There are people who occupy themselves with a single thought for several days, whereas others tend to drift from one thought to another. Herr Shalthier, being a teacher, with a single subject to impart, was in the habit of dwelling on a single thought for a long time. Now that he wasn’t enslaved by students, he pursued other thoughts. But all significant thoughts having already been bestowed on others, he was left only with thoughts of food and drink. All that remained for him was to do with his feet what his mind couldn’t do. Herr Shalthier began counting his paces again. When he was bored, he counted telegraph wires. When he was tired of counting telegraph wires, he counted paces again. Then he began calculating distances. After two separate calculations, he was puzzled: the distance from Katzenau to Bad Katzenau was more than two thousand cubits, yet it was the custom to walk from the town to the watering place every Sabbath, exceeding the distance one is allowed to traverse on the Sabbath. Could an entire God-fearing and observant community be violating such a major restriction? Furthermore, many Orthodox rabbis had already been in Katzenau to drink and immerse themselves in its waters. Could it be that they were unaware of this situation and that they had failed to correct it? He counted again, alternating broad and narrow steps, only to confirm that the distance exceeded the Sabbath limits. Still, he didn’t presume to declare himself the first and only person to realize this. He reasoned that it could be fatigue, from so much food and drink, that was shrinking his paces. He resolved to test this out the following day, before ingesting any food or drink. The next day he measured the distance again and found that it hadn’t changed. He stopped and marked the boundary of the Sabbath limits.

It was already dark and there wasn’t time for him to retrace his steps. But the next morning, first thing, he went to Katzenau to impart what he had to impart. When the people saw the teacher, they were somewhat surprised, for he had already collected his weekly share and they had nothing more to give him. He said to them, “Listen here, friends. I have come not on my own behalf and not because of the sort of things that are consumed and lost, but for your good and benefit, to protect you from a serious transgression. On what grounds have you allowed yourselves to walk to the other Katzenau on the Sabbath, a distance that exceeds the Sabbath limits?” They heard this and were crushed. They stammered in response, “We were following our parents’ ways. Even our teacher, an old man and an expert in the law, raised no objection. In the past he used to walk with us and we never heard that we exceeded the limit.” Herr Shalthier said to them, “Listen to me, friends, what was is past. Henceforth you are forbidden to walk to the watering place on the Sabbath, for I have measured and determined that it is beyond the Sabbath limits. Now let us go to your teacher and I will discover his reason for not interfering with you.”

They went to the elderly teacher and told him all. The old man said to them, “There is a Russian church in that town. The Russian guests pray there, their religion being different from that of the local people. On the outskirts of the town there is a house occupied by their beadle, which constitutes an extension of the town and is the spot from which our Sabbath limit was calculated.” Their faces turned red and they responded, “If so, the reason is no longer valid, as their beadle left when the war began and his dwelling place is now a heap of rubble.” The old man said to them, “In that case, the town limits have diminished and it is no longer permissible to go from Katzenau to Bad Katzenau on the Sabbath. The community elders felt faint when they realized how many times they had violated this prohibition by taking this walk on the Sabbath.” They showered the teacher, Shalthier, with praise and gratitude for having taken the trouble to spare them further transgression. From here on, no one walked beyond the point marked by the teacher. Before Herr Shalthier’s arrival in Katzenau, people used to stroll as they pleased. Now they took pleasure in stopping at the boundary.

5

The bathing season was ending and it was time for Herr Isidor Shalthier to return home. His face was full, his bags stuffed with provisions for the journey, given to him by the people of Katzenau. From the time he emerged from his mother’s womb he hadn’t been treated as well as during his stay in Katzenau. Every day he ate more than he needed and every week he remembered his family with butter, cheese, eggs, and fruit bestowed by admirers, free of charge — though they would be rewarded in the world-to-come, for he had prevented them from desecrating the Sabbath.

The bathing season was over and the resort town was empty. Some of the innkeepers left to stay with relatives and rest from the summer’s work, while those who remained at home sat counting the income derived from their guests. At night they would exchange visits and play cards. In the town of Katzenau there was also a perceptible difference. Those who used to go to the resort and stroll on the promenade now sat in the tavern drinking whiskey and cider, discussing the events of the war and Germany’s victories. Agitators came and went, teachers and officials deliberated continually about ways to finance the war. The Jews, being the first to give, gave and gave again. And it is right that they give — more so in bad times, when their neighbors’ circumstances have declined and on the face of it nothing has changed, though any Jew who deals with the authorities finds them more demanding than usual.

Again it is winter. Days are short; nights are long. Even worse than the struggle to get through the day’s unrewarding business is the struggle to get through sleepless nights filled with bad dreams. Every person has his troubles: a son who is a prisoner of war, a son-in-law who was its casualty. This small community, abandoned by its young men at the outset of the war, is engulfed by sorrow and mourning. Those who return home come only because they are crippled.

A great misfortune befell the family of Miersheim the Baker. He had an only son, long awaited and prayed for, born, raised, and sustained by miracles. When war broke out, the youth assumed the manner of a hero and said, “I am going off to war.” The officers were kind to him, ignoring his frailties, and sent him to the front lines. He was wounded and spent several months in a hospital. When he recovered, he returned to the front. When both his legs froze in the trenches, he was sent home, with many honors and decorations, but with no legs.

6

There was yet another misfortune, the misfortune of Liesl, Mrs. Miersheim’s sister. Liesl was married to Mr. Siegfried Speyer, a leather merchant in Offenbach. The two sisters missed each other but were unable to visit, one being busy with her store, the other with her oven. They expressed their longing in letters and dreams, hoping for a miracle that would bring them together. The miracle did occur, but in an unfortunate way. Liesl’s husband was killed in the war. She was now a widow with three children to support. A small quantity of merchandise had been left to her, which she sold. But, her profit being meager, she was unable to replenish her stock and remained without a means of support. Her brother-in-law, Miersheim, found her work. Neidermeir, who was from their town, hired her to be a maid in the hotel he owned in Katzenau, the resort. She sent her children to her husband’s relatives and moved to Katzenau. Liesl worked all day in Neidermeir’s hotel and even at night she didn’t rest, for the hotel was filled with guests and there was endless work. Liesl couldn’t even spend an hour with her sister, though the distance was a mere cat’s leap. Nor was Mrs. Miersheim free to visit Liesl though she was her own boss, for she had to deal with ration cards, render constant accounts to the authorities, tend her crippled son — a body with no legs. It is a miracle that we have such a thing as Sabbath and holidays, when people are free. But Liesl wasn’t free of her work even on the Sabbath or on holidays, because of the guests.