Episode 263 - The Rebbe Rashab Continues His Efforts to Save the Jews.

00:00 We continue reading the diary of the Frierdiker Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, son of the Rebbe Rashab, as he describes, above all, his father’s efforts to help Jews wherever he could. There was a man in Moscow named Reb Eliezer, son of Reb Yaakov Ginzburg. He was kindhearted, not a learned man, and moderately wealthy compared with the great magnates. He devoted himself wholeheartedly to welcoming guests. In Moscow at that time, welcoming guests was not merely a matter of spending money; it involved genuine self-sacrifice. Because of the severe restrictions on residence outside the Pale of Settlement, Jews who came to Moscow on business had to hide in various places. Some police officers kept Jews in their homes and charged them five or ten rubles a night. Naturally, this only increased their eagerness to find Jews without residence permits and fleece them. Eliezer Ginzburg lived in the Maryina Roshcha district. He reached an arrangement with the city police and the officers responsible for his house: they would not help search it for people without residence permits, and if they were ever obliged to search his house, they would notify him beforehand. For this he paid each of them a monthly sum according to his position, spending about three hundred rubles a month. Since he owned a large factory with several hundred workers, he set up lodging for fifty people in one of its buildings, with made-up beds and a large kitchen. Mr. Ginzburg also had a large shop in the city center, on Ilyinka Street. Merchants large and small, brokers, and others came there. Word of the lodging quickly spread among the Jews, of course, and within two days the house was full of guests. Needless to say, Ginzburg took no payment from them and even made sure they had food. And so there would be no doubt

02:54 about the food’s kashrus, he hired a Jewish cook—something difficult to find in Moscow—and a special supervisor for the kitchen. “This is not the place,” says the Frierdiker Rebbe, “to go into all that Ginzburg did. His good deeds deserve a chapter of their own in my memoirs.” As for this matter, he had been acquainted for many years with prominent, distinguished officials, and the outcome of my journey to Petersburg that night depended on the decision of the second meeting, attended by Mr. Ginzburg and Mr. Nachum, son of Shlomo Dankin, who also had acquaintances among high-ranking officials in Moscow. At that time, the factory for sawing timber—a sawmill, or “zagmel[?],” as it was called—and the lumber warehouse belonging to my uncle, Mr. M. Orenstein, at Ilnya Station in Smolensk Province, caught fire. Neither the factory nor the warehouse was insured against fire, so there was no reason at all to suspect the owners of setting it. But one landowner, who also had a warehouse at that station and was a friend of the Jew-hating lawyer Shmukov, saw an opportunity. Although he had suffered no damage from the fire, he concocted an accusation that the Jew Mr. Orenstein had set fire to his own warehouse so that the non-Jew’s warehouse would burn down. Shmukov saw an opening to build a case against Mr. Orenstein in particular, and against all Jews living outside the Pale of Settlement in general. On the orders of the prosecutor in the city of Smolensk, a friend of Shmukov’s, my uncle was imprisoned, and no amount of bail helped. My father, the Rebbe Rashab, said he saw in this a remarkable sign of Divine Providence: it would make plain that people were looking only for accusations and pretexts against the Jews, and that the arrests in all the places mentioned earlier were likewise the fruit of hatred and [unclear]. It reminds us of something in our own time, of course. The discussions and arguments at the first meeting, from four

05:45 to six, distressed my father, the Rebbe Rashab. Each speaker recounted a conversation he had had with one minister or another, or one official or another, and reported that the ministers and officials viewed the Jews very unfavorably. The ministers all agreed that Jews from the Pale of Settlement held corrupt views and posed a danger to the government and to humanity as a whole. They felt the restrictions on residence outside the Pale should be tightened further and anyone caught with false papers should be severely punished. Twice my father, the Rebbe Rashab, spoke of the need to find grounds for defending our imprisoned brethren, but no one wanted to listen. By half past five they had nearly concluded that nothing could be done, that intervening would even be dangerous and disgraceful. Only when the trial came would lawyers take up the case, and those renowned lawyers would surely find ways to save the accused from the harshest punishment. A heavy cloud lay over my father’s face. Those gathered sensed that an inner pain weighed on his heart and that he was struggling with himself over whether to speak. Suddenly his face turned white as marble, and the Rebbe Rashab said: “My brothers, each of you knows how deeply his heart aches over the fate of our brethren who suffer hunger and cold in the Pale of Settlement, and all the more so over our brethren now in prison. I know that each of you is devoted to the fate of our brethren, our people, and their suffering is my suffering too. It is very hard for me,” my father, the Rebbe Rashab, continued, “to say what I must say, but I cannot hold back. At this moment my pain is unbearable—not because of the plight of our imprisoned brethren, but because of your own condition. I see how far you have grown from your brothers, how little you know of the conditions of life in the towns of the Pale, how little you can imagine their wretched lives, how deeply you are influenced

08:02 by the words of those who hate the Jews. Do you sincerely believe every accusation made against the Jews? Well, they found people whose documents, they say, were invalid. Did they find robbers, thieves, or wrongdoers? They found people who had dentists’ certificates and everything required for that profession, and who employed people to manage their businesses while they themselves did not practice it. They did nothing that endangered anyone, caused anyone even discomfort, or violated common decency. Their entire offense was that they did not practice their stated profession, and when examined they could not demonstrate their skills. A person can forget what he has learned. As for the claim that their certificates are invalid, that requires thorough investigation. And for this minor charge, will people be put in prison? Will their wives and children be sent off to different places and their property taken? Faced with a matter of so little consequence, have our wise and powerful communal leaders lost their bearings and lost heart before these Jew-hating predators? My distress over this is greater than my distress over the incident itself. You are far removed from the lives of your brethren. You do not recognize their virtues, and you believe every piece of nonsense uttered by a minister or official bought off by a scoundrel and a swindler.” My father, the Rebbe Rashab, said: “I called this meeting to hear wise counsel, and I am convinced that if you knew the lives of your brethren in the towns of the Pale as they truly are, you would have decided differently.” My father, the Rebbe Rashab, spoke with inner firmness and the most gentle manner. His words expressed his sensitive heart, broken and crushed by the plight of our brethren at that time, and made a powerful impression. It was then decided that Mr. Polyakov and Chaim Vysotsky would approach the appropriate people and seek the prisoners’ release until their trial. The meeting ran a little beyond its allotted time, while the second meeting, from eight to ten, was conducted with great warmth. As to the matter itself, no

10:21 We debated the matter, since most of those involved knew what life was like for our brethren in the Pale of Settlement, and how every danger had to be weighed before leaving the Pale. The entire discussion concerned only what measures to take to achieve the desired result: the release of the prisoners and the complete cancellation of the whole affair. The meeting lasted about an hour, and it was decided that Mr. Ginzburg, Dankin, and Monzon would visit their acquaintances. A list was drawn up of the people to visit and what to say to them. On the instructions of the Rebbe Rashab, my father, I traveled to Petersburg that night with Mr. Chaim Monzon, and by Thursday morning I was to bring back certain information needed at the time. On Tuesday morning, 8 Kislev, I arrived in Petersburg. Monzon went to do everything assigned to him. I left my belongings at the station and went to the home of the chossid Rabbi Chaim Musiabo. Afterward I was to visit Mr. Margolin and also call at Mr. Yaakov Polyakov’s home, and, if the time was right, speak with him a little to learn what I could. The chossid Racham—that is, Mr. Margolin—was a man of the old school. The atmosphere of Petersburg had not affected him at all. He had many acquaintances there, but one had to be careful with him, for he was not blessed with wisdom. Chaim Monzon and I had agreed to meet that day at six at the Grufinkel restaurant, 23 Gorokhovaya Street, or at seven at the apartment of his father-in-law, the well-known chossid Rabbi Nachman Shimon Nason, 27 Voznesensky [?]. The day passed in a great deal of work and various visits. When I came to the restaurant, I found Monzon there, and we told each other how things had gone. We were both satisfied with the way we had carried out our missions. Monzon told me that through the chossid Eliezer Elinsky it might be possible to arrange a meeting with Minister Peikov. At the meeting in Moscow the previous day, it had been decided to look into how to make this acquaintance, but those at the meeting had not

12:58 found a solution. At seven I visited Menachem Munish, and from there I spoke by telephone with Eliezer Elinsky in Tsarskoye Selo. I told him that I needed to speak with him and that I would be at the train at ten, where I would wait for him. When I had a free moment, I went to the chossid Shmuel Michoel Treinin and asked him to speak with Yaakov Polyakov about our visiting him on Wednesday. Shmuel Michoel Treinin was a wise man, perceptive in speech and possessed of tremendous resolve. He held the name “chossid” very dear. When he was among secular people or wealthy Jews, he was not ashamed of who he was—a chossid, the son of a chossid—and he was not afraid of government ministers. If he heard them say anything about the Jews, he knew how to answer them properly, with knowledge and intelligence. When I reached the station, I found Elinsky already waiting for me. I told him that I needed a letter to a certain minister in Moscow. I explained that General Kotov was a friend of that minister and had considerable influence, and asked whether he knew the general and could obtain a letter of recommendation from him. Elinsky said to me, “My train to Tsarskoye Selo leaves in ten minutes. Perhaps you’ll come with me? I know the general well, both him and his brother. I knew their father too. But I don’t know whether he is at home. In any case, tomorrow morning we’ll be able to find out everything.” I thought it over and, in desperation, decided to travel to Tsarskoye Selo. I had a small bag with my tallis and tefillin and a few other small things, which I had carried with me all day as I went from place to place on my visits, and I traveled with Elinsky. We sat in a second-class carriage. Before I had even settled into my seat, Elinsky was already surrounded by ministers and officials he knew, greeting them all with a smile and a warm welcome. For about a quarter of an hour he spoke with several of the ministers, stepping aside with them to discuss his business. Then he came to me and said, “Well, what do you say? The blessing

15:35 of the Rebbe, may he live long, who blessed me with success, is helping me even now. The elder Minister Kotov is traveling in first class. I’m going to see him and speak with him.” Ten minutes passed, and Elinsky returned and told me that he had spoken with Kotov, who had promised to give him the requested letter the next morning. Kotov had also said that he had an acquaintance whose influence was even greater than his own, and that this man too would provide a letter. But he needed to know whose name to put in both letters. We reached the Tsarskoye Selo station and got off the train. Snow was falling and the wind was blowing. I had spent the whole day rushing from place to place, and I had hoped that before long I would be able to rest. We walked through the station when someone called out Elinsky’s name. Elinsky turned and saw Minister Kotov standing with a group of officials, and hurried over to him. I, the Frierdiker Rebbe relates, walked slowly so that I could wait for Elinsky to return. He came back and told me that Minister Kotov had said he would eat supper at the station now, and that his acquaintance would come there to eat with him. He therefore needed to know whose name they should put in their letters. I was at a loss and could not decide on the spot, but after a little thought I decided that it would be best to put them in Eliezer Ginzburg’s name. Elinsky and I sat down for a cup of tea, and the clock struck eleven. I thought it over: it was not good for me to be sitting here. Apart from my passport, I had no documents with me, nor did I have permission to reside in Petersburg and Moscow for two months a year—a right I had held as a first-guild merchant. That right had already expired, and my appearance would give me away as a Jew from the Pale of Settlement. I told Elinsky that I wanted to return to Petersburg on the train leaving at midnight, but he urged me to stay the night at his home. Before I had managed to decide, an official came and told Elinsky

18:03 that Minister Kotov was calling him. A short while later Elinsky returned, his face beaming, and said to me, “If you don’t come and stay the night at my home, I won’t give you the letters.” So I went with him to his home.