Everybody was poor in those days, so we went to a very cheap though respectable hotel, where we paid less than half of what we had always given at “The Island,” and where we were in company quite as happy or comfortable as we ever had been anywhere, though the death of her brother weighed sadly on my poor wife, and her dear good mother, whom I always loved tenderly, and with whom I never had a shade of difference of opinion nor a whisper of even argument, and to whom I was always devoted. I seem to have been destined to differ from other mortals in a few things: one was, that I always loved my mother-in-law with whole heart and soul, and never considered our ménage as perfect unless she were with us. She was of very good and rather near English descent, a Callender, and had been celebrated in her youth for extraordinary beauty. Her husband was related to the celebrated beauty Miss Vining, whom Maria Antoinette, from the fame of her loveliness, invited to come and join her court. At the beginning of this century no great foreigner travelled in America without calling on Miss Vining in Delaware. There is a life of her in Griswold’s “Republican Court.” It is without any illustrative portrait. I asked Dr. Griswold why he had none. He replied that none existed. I said to him severely, “Let this be a lesson to you never to publish anything without submitting it first to me. I have a photograph of her miniature.” The Doctor submitted!
This summer at Cape May I made the acquaintance of a very remarkable man named Solomon. He was a Jew, and we became intimate. One evening he said to me: “You
know so much about the Jews that I have even learned something from you about them. But I can teach you something. Can you tell the difference between the Aschkenazim and the Sephardim by their eyes? No! Well, now, look!” Just then a Spanish-looking beauty from New Orleans passed by. “There is Miss Inez Aguado; observe that the corners of her eyes are long with a peculiar turn. Wait a minute; now, there is Miss Löwenthal—Levi, of course—of Frankfort. Don’t you see the difference?”
I did, and asked him to which of the classes he belonged. He replied—
“To neither. I am of the sect of the ancient Sadducees, who took no part in the Crucifixion.”
Then I replied, “You are of the Karaim.”
“No; that is still another sect or division, though very ancient indeed. We never held to the Halacha, and we laugh at the Mishna and Talmud and all that. We do not believe or disbelieve in a God—Yahveh, or the older Elohim. We hold that every man born knows enough to do what is right; and that is religion enough. After death, if he has acted up to this, he will be all right should there be a future of immortality; and if he hasn’t, he will be none the worse off for it. We are a very small sect. We call ourselves the Neu Reformirte. We have a place of worship in New York.”
This was the first agnostic whom I had ever met. I thought of the woman in Jerusalem who ran about with the torch to burn up heaven and the water to extinguish hell-fire. Yes, the sect was very old. The Sadducees never denied anything; they only inquired as to truth. Seek or Sikh!
I confess that Mr. Solomon somewhat weakened the effect of his grand free-thought philosophy by telling me in full faith of a Rabbi in New York who was so learned in the Cabala that by virtue of the sacred names he could recover stolen goods. Whether, like Browning’s sage, he also received
them, I did not learn. But c’est tout comme chez nous autres. The same spirit which induces a man to break out of orthodox humdrumness, induces him to love the marvellous, the forbidden, the odd, the wild, the droll—even as I do. It is not a fair saying that “atheists are all superstitious, which proves that a man must believe in something.” No; it is the spirit of nature, of inquiry, of a desire for the new and to penetrate the unknown; and under such influence a man may truly be an atheist as regards what he cannot prove or reconcile with universal love and mercy, and yet a full believer that magic and ghosts may possibly exist among the infinite marvels and mysteries of nature. It is admitted that a man may believe in God without being superstitious; it is much truer that he may be “superstitious” (whatever that means) without believing that there is an anthropomorphic bon Dieu. However this may be, Mr. Solomon made me reflect often and deeply for many a long year, until I arrived to the age of Darwin.