Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

MR. MONDAY 7 9

bottles of hydrochloric acid. When the anti-Semites came, he would pour acid on the bleaching powder. No enemy would be able to pass. He knew. He had studied science and the mysteries of the old alchemists. He would fight as a modern Maccabee.That was the synthesis of Talmud and Abbe Nollet.

The gorillas just kicked the buckets onto the pavement. They never even suspected that they escaped poisoning by chlorine gas. Then they dragged the family into the street. Mr. Monday resisted.They put a pistol against his neck...A shot. He died instantly.

"Hear, O Israel..."

And what happened to the hundreds of thousands like him who had remained in Bedzyn, Lodz, Lwow, Crakow, and Warsaw?

People all over the world know the epic story of the revolt in the Warsaw ghetto. A modern army against a hundred and fifty thousand defenseless people. Tanks against sticks and knives. Machine guns against the tools of garment workers and cobblers. Much had the ghetto wronged the Jews, but it had not been able to break their courage. In the end, in their finest hour they fought like lions, with nails and claws.The revolt lasted long. Men, women, young and old people fought till their last breath. Nobody hoped. Nobody asked for grace. Maccabee had arisen and Bar Kochba, and they fought the good, the holy fight, as did Mr. Monday, when his turn came in Manege Street in the Jewish quarter of Amsterdam.

"Hear, O Israel..."