HE Outlook considers itself fortunate in being able to present to its readers the reminiscences of Oscar Straus, which begin in this issue. It congratulates itself, not because Mr. Straus is distinguished as a statesman and Government official, although he has this distinction; not because the autobiography is full of entertaining anecdotes of Presidents with whom Mr. Straus has been intimately associated, although the autobiography has this delightful quality; not because Mr. Straus's story of his life throws some light on solutions of perplexing political and social questions confronting the country, although the autobiography is very illuminating in this respect; but because this Jewish Ambassador from a Christian Democracy to a Mohammedan Absolutism is an outstanding manifestation that the great human process going on in this continental Republic of ours is the formation, not only of a new kind of national life, but of a new kind of racial life.

Mr. Straus was born in Germany, and came to this country when he was about four years old. But he is as completely an American in culture, in temperament, and in point of view as if his ancestors were Puritans

The story is one of service at home and abroad, of personal relations with four American Presidents, with diplomats, labor leaders, foreign rulers, leaders of finance and industry, and some plain unticketed citizens who were the salt of the earth and certainly not the least of those whom it was a privilege and a pleasure to know.

In these reminiscences few things will afford me greater pleasure than the references to my family-to my father Lazarus, my mother Sarah, my brothers Nathan and Isidor, the last my late lamented guide, philosopher, and friend, who was lost with his wife on the illfated Titanic. They were noble in death as in life.

The greatest pleasures first, then-my family.

The Palatinate of Bavaria was the home of many generations of my maternal and paternal ancestors. By industry and thrift they had become landowners and dealers in grain. Commerce was their livelihood, but learning and culture their life. Though none of them had attended universities, they were all deeply and widely informed in Hebrew and German literature.

Here, in the little town of Otterberg,

my father was born in 1809. It was two years after the Great Sanhedrin in Paris, in which his grandfather had played a prominent part. His grandfather was Jacob Ben Lazarus―Jacob, the son of Lazarus. (Until 1808, when the Palatinate under Napoleon became the French Department of Mont Tennérre, Jews in that section had not used family names.)

The Great Sanhedrin, a convocation famous in modern Jewish annals and in French history, was created by Napoleon's decree of May 30, 1806. From the Department of Mont Tennérre my greatgrandfather went as a deputy to this parliamentary assembly which was to justify Judaism and Jewry to a world and a France which oppressed and restricted them. The reactionaries had been making the Jews the scapegoats in their campaign against the advancing spirit of liberalism. Thus the cause of the Jews was linked with the cause of liberty itself.

Napoleon himself was at first prejudiced against the Jews, regarding them as usurers and extortioners. He soon realized, however, that the characteristics which affronted him could not be imputed to Judaism, but were due rather to the Jews' restricted rights, civil and industrial, and to their general unhappy condition. It was made manifest to him that in Bordeaux, Marseilles, and in the Italian cities of France, as well as in Holland, some of the most useful and patriotic citizens were Jews.

A FOREFATHER IN DIPLOMATIC RÔLE IN NAPOLEON'S COUNCILS

With his genius for capturing the imagination, with his unfailing sense for the historical attitude, Napoleon issued

his famous decree summoning the Assembly of Notables of the Jewish Nation to meet in Paris the following July to formulate their grievances and confer with Napoleon's commissioners relative to improving their status. It was called the Sanhedrin, after the famous parliamentary bodies of ancient Israel.

So one hundred and eleven delegates assembled from all parts of the great Napoleonic Empire, speaking French, German, and Italian, and formed the Sanhedrin. Among the deputies was Michael Berr, afterwards the first French Jew to practice at the bar; Abraham Furtado, son of Marrano or CryptoJewish parents from Portugal, a member of the family from which the wife of the first Benjamin d'Israeli was descended, and one of the ancestors of Sir John Simon; Avigdor of Nice, Israel Ottolenghi, an ancestor of the late War Minister of Italy; Saul Cremieux, Olry, Hayem Worms.

Many of the delegates were themselves well known; others achieved a posthumous glamour in the deeds of descendants who have since won distinction in French history and in the annals of Jewry. They assembled with a full consciousness of their responsibility. The purpose was to win for French Jews the removal of occupational restrictions and civic discrimination. It was a monumental task.

My great-grandfather evidently played an important part in the diplomacy which this unprecedented council involved, for he represented the Department of Mont Tennérre and was a mem ber of the sub-committee of fifteen delegated to meet the commissioners appointed by Napoleon; he was a member of another committee to which the

Assembly intrusted the delicate task of preparing the groundwork of discussion with the commissioners; and subsequently he was appointed to the Committee of Nine which the following year presented to the Great Sanhedrin the conclusions which had been formulated and agreed upon by the Assembly and helped to secure their adoption.

The Sanhedrin and the first Napoleon had become a memory, and Europe was experiencing a new cycle of oppression and revolution, when my father reached maturity.

The Revolution of 1848 was a heroic effort of the liberal forces of Europe to achieve constitutional government. Its failure in Germany caused a general exodus of participants to other countries. A host came to the United States, including such men as Sigel, Schurz, Stahl, and many others who later gained eminence as Generals in the Civil War. Americans in spirit, having made their sacrifices basically for American principles, they constituted a valuable acquisition to American citizenship.

Those who remained, who were prevented by circumstances from emigrating, were subjected to all those petty annoyances and discriminations which a reactionary government never fails to lay upon people who have revolted and revolted in vain. My father was only locally prominent in the revolutionary movement, and, though not actively prosecuted, was made to feel that emigration was the only means of relief.

Paramount also were the economic circumstances in which he found himself after the Revolution. Before the event a landowner and grain dealer on a large scale, he was now reduced financially, even in debt. Assuredly, a place where

reactionary and triumphant officialdom delighted in annoying one was not the scene for a retrieval of fortune. He wanted a new field for his enterprise. In 1852 he left for America.

GETTING A NEW START IN DIXIE

Like the prudent man he was, he went alone, to establish himself first, if only in a small way, rather than allow his family to exchange the comparative security of their familiar surroundings for the doubtful insecurity of an unknown land.

"Go South," was the recommendation of former acquaintances whom he met after landing in Philadelphia. Acting on this suggestion, he went on to Oglethorpe, Georgia, where he met some more acquaintances from the old country. Through them he made a connection with two brothers Kaufman, who plied the peddler's trade. They owned a peddler's wagon, with which they dispensed through the several counties of the State an assortment of dry-goods and what were known as Yankee notions. For my father this was indeed a pioneer business in a pioneer country, yet it was not like the peddling of today. In the fifties the population of the whole State of Georgia was only about 900,000. Because of the existence of slavery there were on the large plantations often more colored people than there were whites living in the near-by villages. The itinerant merchant, therefore, filled a real want, and his vocation was looked upon as quite dignified. Indeed, he was treated by the owners of the plantations with a spirit of equality that it is hard to appreciate to-day. Then, too, the existence of slavery drew

a distinct line of demarcation between the white and black races. This gave to the white visitor a status of equality that probably otherwise he would not have enjoyed to such a degree.

Provided only, therefore, that the pedIdler proved himself an honorable, upright man who conscientiously treated his customers with fairness and made no misrepresentations regarding his wares, he was treated as an honored guest by the plantation owners-certainly a spirit of true democracy. The visits were made periodically and were quite looked forward to by the plantation owners. The peddler usually stayed one night at the house of his customer, and took his meals with the family.

Another ideally democratic feature about these sojourns was that spirit of Southern hospitality which, even in the relationship between the wealthiest and most aristocratic family and the humble peddler, permitted no pay for board and lodging, and only a small charge for food for the horses. The peddler, in turn, usually made a gift to either the lady or her daughter. Often he provided himself with articles for this pur pose, but usually on one visit he would find out what might be welcome and on the next visit bring it. The bonds of friendship thus made are, I venture to say, hardly understandable in our day.

In the course of these wanderings my father came to Talbotton, a town of some eight or nine hundred inhabitants, the county seat of Talbot County, and about forty miles east of the Alabama boundary. Talbotton immediately inpressed him so favorably that he selected it as the next home for his family. It had an air of refinement that pleased him; here were gardens with nicely cultivated flowers and shrubbery, and houses that were neat, well kept, and properly painted. Upon inquiry, he found further that there were splendid schools for both boys and girls.

There was another factor which doubtless caused father to be favorably impressed with Talbotton; it was court week when he arrived, at which time a town has a more or less festive appearance and is at its best so far as activity is concerned. Then there was a third factor that influenced him to settle there. Before doing business in any county peddlers were required to go to the county seat to buy a license. At Talbotton this license was very high, and my father doubted that his business in Talbot County would warrant the expense. The idea occurred to him to utilize the presence of the many strangers in town to test the possibilities of the place by unpacking and displaying his goods in a store. An interview with Captain Curley, the only tailor in the town, developed the fact that the store he occupied was too large for his needs and he would be willing to share it with my father. So this arrangement was promptly made, and at a cost less than the expense of the county license for itinerant merchandising.

The experiment proved most satisfactory. In a few weeks the stock was so depleted that my father proposed to his partner that they rent a store and settle in Talbotton. This they did. My father then prepared to go to Philadelphia to get a stock of goods. His partner counseled against this. There was a merchant in Oglethorpe who up to this point had supplied them with all their merchandise; they would need to refer to him for credit, and they were still indebted to him for the stock in hand; also he would probably not approve of their settling down in a store instead of peddling. The new store offered large display space in comparison with the wagon, and the partner doubted my father's ability to get enough credit in Philadelphia to make a proper display. Still another obstacle: The line of merchandise that was to constitute most of their stock was what was then known as dry-goods and domestics. This business was entirely in the hands of the Yankees, and the most difficult one in which to gain a foothold, especially for a German immigrant without capital.

Having opened the store, my father toiled long hours to make it prosper. But it was two years before he could send for the family.

DEACONS DUELED WITH KNIVES

Three years previous to this my mother had suffered a paralytic stroke. The long, trying trip to America with four small children called for courage and resource to an unusual degree. The oldest child, Isidor, was nine years old, my sister Hermine seven and a half, Nathan six, and myself three and a half years.

We arrived at New York September 12, 1854. My father met us at the dock. Yellow fever was raging in Savannah, the port through which we had to pass to reach Talbotton, so we were compelled to wait in Philadelphia until it was considered safe to proceed.

Talbotton was on court days filled with visitors and wore a holiday air. Sometimes the liquor flowed a little too freely among the visitors, and knife and pistol fights followed. In one case two deacons of the same church altercated until one slashed the other to death with his knife.

After considerable delay the murderer I was tried, but because of his high standing in the community he was acquitted, doubtless on the plea of self-defense, and he got off scot free.

This all left a deep impression on my young mind and made me a prohibitionist long before I knew the meaning of the word. In the North when boys got to fighting they used their fists; in the South they used, besides their fists, sticks and stones, and consequently it was a more serious and dangerous affair. If in the North one boy cursed another or called him a liar it would not necessarily lead to a fist fight; in fact, it usually stopped at recrimination. In the

SANTA RO

CALIF.

South that kind of quarreling meant a serious fight.

I think because of these facts the Southern boys were much more guarded and polite to each other in speech than was customary among Northern boys. Perhaps much of the so-called Southern politeness had its roots in the use in boyhood of milder terms in case of disagreement.

CIRCUIT RIDERS CHARMED BY
BIBLICAL ERUDITION

On the whole, though, the town itself was for those times an enlightened and moderately prosperous community. Our family was received with kindness. We quickly became accustomed to our new environment.

My mother and father

soon enjoyed local fame for different excellences-mother for the trimness and skillful cultivation of her flower and regetable patch, father for his Biblical rudition. While housewives admired the horticultural skill of my mother, circuit-riding ministers went into long theological discussions with my father. Ours was a hospitable home, though modest, and never a circuit rider came to Talbotton but he had dinner at our

house, after which the discussions commenced in earnest. If a text was in question, my father always had his He brew copy of the Old Testament at hand and was ready to translate passages literally for their information.

I was thus fairly brought up on theological discussion. From my earliest days, it seems, I have been so situated as to be made aware of denominational controversy. At the table in my parents' home I saw and listened to representatives of every Christian creed. In college I figured, but as an olive-branched neutral, in the feud between "Evidences of Christianity" and the non-Episcopalians. And later years saw me in Turkey as the American diplomatic envoy, defending the representatives of Christian churches from the hostility of the Turk.

My brother Isidor and my sister were immediately sent to school, and my second brother and I were likewise sent as soon as we arrived at school age. We were the only Jewish family in the town. This aroused the curiosity of those who had never met persons of our race or religion before. I remember hearing a man express the doubt that we were