A Fair Jewess

A younger woman, in her springtime, with life's fairest pages spread before her. Darker than Rachel is she, with darker hair and eyes and complexion, slim, graceful, and beautiful. It is impossible that she should not have felt the influence of the home in which she has been reared, and that she should not be the better for it, for it is a home in which the domestic affections unceasingly display themselves in their tenderest aspect, in which the purest and most ennobling lessons of life are inculcated by precept and practice; but a profound student of human nature, whose keen insight would enable him to plumb the depths of passion, to detect what lay beneath the surface, to trace the probable course of the psychological inheritance which all parents transmit to their children, would have come to the conclusion that in this fair young creature were instincts and promptings which were likely one day to give forth a discordant note in this abode of peace and love, and to break into rebellion. There is no outward indication of such possible rebellion. To the friends and acquaintances of the household she is a lovely and gracious Jewish maiden, who shall in time become a mother in Judah. This is Ruth Cohen, in the eyes of all the world the daughter of Aaron and Rachel.

A young man, Ruth's junior by a year, with his father's strength of character and his mother's sweetness of disposition. He is, as yet, too young for the full development of this rare combination of qualities, the outcome of which is to be made manifest in the future, but he is not too young to win love and respect. His love for his parents is ardent, his faith in them indelible. To him his mother is a saint, his father a man without blemish. Were he asked to express his most earnest wishes he would answer, "When I am my father's age may I be honored as he is; when I marry may my wife be as my mother is." This is Joseph Cohen, the one other child of Aaron and Rachel.

A tall ungainly woman of thirty, working like a willing slave from morning to night, taking pride and pleasure in the home, and metaphorically prostrating herself before everyone who lives beneath its roof. Esteemed and valued by her master and mistress, for whom she is ready to sacrifice herself, and to undergo any privation; especially watchful of her mistress, and tender toward her; jealous of the good name of those whom she serves with devotion. This is Prissy, the ever true, the ever faithful.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE FOUNDATION OF AARON'S FORTUNE

Eventful indeed to Aaron Cohen had been the twenty years since he left Gosport. In the south of France, where they remained for a much longer time than he intended, Rachel was restored to health, and Aaron had the joy of seeing her move happily about the house and garden, and of hearing her sing to her baby the songs and lullabys which, from a mother's lips, are so fraught with melodious and tender meaning. It almost seemed as if she had inward cause for thankfulness that blindness had fallen upon her, for Aaron had never known her to be so blithe and lighthearted as during those weeks of returning health. Prissy was invaluable to them, and proved to be a veritable treasure. The short time it took her to learn her duties, the swiftness and eagerness with which they were performed, the delight she took in the babe, who soon replaced Victoria Regina in her affections, and the care and skill with which she guided her mistress' movements, amazed Aaron. He had divined from the first that she was a shrewd, clever girl, and he had the satisfaction of discovering that she was much cleverer than he would have ventured to give her credit for. She was tidier in her dress, too, and never presented herself unless she was clean and neat. She became, in a sense, her mistress' teacher, and Rachel was so apt a pupil that Aaron's apprehensions that she would meet with an accident if she moved too freely about were soon dispelled.

"Is it not wonderful, love?" she said. "I think I must have eyes at the tips of my fingers. But it is Prissy I have to thank for it."

She repaid the girl, be sure. Gradually Prissy's mode of expressing herself underwent improvement; she did not use so many negatives, she dropped fewer h's, she learned to distinguish between g's and k's, and Aaron himself laid the first stone in her education by teaching her the A B C. One thing Prissy would not learn; she obstinately refused to have anything to do with the French language. She did make a commencement, but when she was told that chou (she scornfully turned her back on du) was cabbage it was the last straw. "In course we choo," she said; "wot do we put things in our mouth for?" She had previously shied at pain, declaring that bread was pleasure. English was good enough for her, she declared, and to the English tongue she nailed her colors. Fond as she was of babies, she would not countenance French babies, and said it was a shame to dress them so. "I'm a troo bloo, sir," she said to Aaron; "please don't force me." And with a hearty laugh he desisted.

He himself spoke French fluently, and to this may be ascribed the first change in his fortunes. Easy in his mind respecting Rachel, easy respecting money, he found himself at leisure to look about him and observe. He made friends, and among them a poor French engineer of great skill. In conversation one day this engineer mentioned that tenders were invited for the construction of a local bridge. It was not a very important matter; the lake it was to span was of no great dimensions, and the bridge required was by no means formidable.

"There are only two contractors who will tender for it," said the engineer, "and they are in each other's confidence. They will settle privately the amount of their separate tenders, and the lowest will obtain the contract. They will divide the profits between them. If I had a little money to commence with I would tender for the work, and my tender would be at least ten thousand francs below theirs. Then it would be I who would construct the bridge, and public money would be saved."

"What would be your profit?" asked Aaron.

"Twenty thousand francs," was the reply, "perhaps more."

"And the amount of your tender?"

"Eighty thousand francs. I have the plans and specifications, and every detail of expense for material and labor, in my house. Will you come and look over them?"

Aaron examined them, and submitting them to the test of inquiry as to the cost of labor and material, found them to be correct. A simple-minded man might have been taken in by a schemer who had prepared complicated figures for the purpose of trading with another person's money, and standing the chance of losing or winning; but Aaron was not simple-minded, the poor engineer was not a schemer, and the figures were honestly set down.

"It would not need a great amount of money," said the engineer. "If a certain sum were deposited in the bank a further sum could be raised upon the signed contract being given as security, and moreover, as the work proceeds, specified payments will be made by the local authorities."

"How much would be required to commence operations, and to make everything safe?"

"Ten thousand francs."

Roughly, that was four hundred pounds. The five hundred pounds he had received from the lawyers were as yet untouched, for they lived very economically, and they were in a part of the world where thrift was part of the people's education. Aaron believed the project to be safe.

"If I advance it?" he asked.

"We would make it a partnership affair," replied the poor engineer eagerly.

Upon that understanding the bridge was tendered for, and the tender accepted. In four months the work was executed and passed by the inspectors; they received the balance due to them, and a division of the profits was made. After paying all his expenses Aaron was the richer by two hundred pounds. He gave fifty pounds to the poor, which raised him in the estimation of the people among whom he was temporarily sojourning. He had not been idle during the four months occupied by the building of the bridge; under the guidance of his partner he had superintended the workmen and undertaken the correspondence and management of the accounts; and new as these duties were to him he had shown great intelligence and aptitude.

"We met on a fortunate day," said the engineer.

At about this time a new engineering project presented itself. It was on a larger scale than the first, and the two men, emboldened by their success, tendered for it. Again did fortune favor them; everybody, with the exception of rival contractors, was on their side. In the carrying out of their first contract there had not been a hitch; they had paid their workmen better wages, they had behaved honestly and liberally all around, and they had already achieved a reputation. Moreover, people were talking of Rachel's kindness and of Aaron's benevolence. Hats were lifted to them, women and children left flowers at their door; rich was the harvest they gathered for their charity.

When it was known they had obtained another contract the best workmen came to them for employment, and they learned what all employers of labor may learn, that it is wise policy to pay generously for bone and muscle. The hateful political economy of Ricardo, which would grind labor down to starvation pittance, could never find lodgment in the mind of such a man as Aaron Cohen. The new venture was entirely successful, and being of greater magnitude than the first, the profits were larger. Aaron was the possessor of two thousand pounds. He gave two hundred pounds to the poor. He did more than this. The doctor who had attended Rachel in Gosport had declined to accept a fee, and Aaron now wrote him a grateful letter, inclosing in it a draught for a hundred pounds, which he asked the doctor to distribute among the local charities. That the receipt of this money afforded gratification to the doctor was evidenced in his reply. "Everyone here," he said, "has kind words for you and your estimable wife, and the general feeling is that if you had continued to reside in Gosport it would have been a source of pleasure to all of us. When I speak of your good fortune all the townsfolk say, 'We are glad to hear it.'" Thus did good spring out of evil.

Aaron felt that his foot was on the ladder. He entered into a three years' partnership with his friend the engineer, and they executed many public works, and never had a failure. The justness of their trading, their consideration for the toilers who were helping to build up a fortune for them, the honest wages they paid, earned for them an exceptional reputation for rectitude and fair dealing. In these matters, and in this direction, Aaron was the guiding spirit. He left to his partner the technical working out of their operations, and took himself the control of wages and finance.

Occasionally there were arguments between him and his partner, the latter hinting, perhaps, that there was a cheaper market, and that so much money could be saved by employing such and such middlemen, who offered to supply labor and material at prices that were not equitable from the point of view of the toilers and producers. Aaron would not entertain propositions of this kind.

"We are doing well," he said, "we are making money, we are harvesting. Be satisfied."

His partner gave way; Aaron's character was too strong for resistance.

"Clean and comfortable homes," said Aaron, "a good education for their children, a modest enjoyment of the world's pleasures-these are the laborers' due."

Hearing of this, some large employers called him quixotic and said he was ruining trade, but he pursued the just and even tenor of his way, satisfied that he was a savior and not a spoiler.

Upon the conclusion of each transaction, when the accounts were balanced, he devoted a portion of his profits to benevolent purposes, and he became renowned as a public benefactor. The thanks that were showered upon him did not please him, but tended rather to humiliate and humble him; he would not listen to expressions of gratitude; and it will be presently seen that when he returned to England he took steps to avoid the publicity which was distasteful to him.

Meanwhile Rachel throve. She walked with an elastic spring in her feet, as though in response to nature's greeting, and joy and happiness accompanied her everywhere. She was profoundly and devoutly grateful for her husband's better fortune, and daily rendered up thanks for it to the Giver of all good. She took pleasure in everything; blind as she was, she enjoyed nature's gifts to the full. In winter it was extraordinary to hear her describe the aspect of woods and fields in their white feathery mantle; with deep-drawn breath she inhaled the fresh cold air, and a glory rested on her face as she trod the snow-clad paths.

When she visited the poor on those cold days Prissy accompanied her, carrying a well-filled basket on her arm. Her sympathy with the sick and suffering was divine, and in the bleakest hours, when the sky was overcast and the light was hidden from shivering mortals, she was the herald of sunshine. A priest met her on one of these journeys, and gave her good-day.

"Good-day, father," she said.

"You know me!" he exclaimed, surprised.

"I heard your voice a fortnight ago," she replied, "in the cottage I am going to now, and I never forget a voice. After you were gone the poor woman told me you were her priest. I heard so much of you that was beautiful."

She put forth her hand; he hesitated a moment, then took it and pressed it.

"You are a Jewess?"

"Yes, father."

"Let me come and talk to you."

"Yes, father, come and talk to me of your poor, to whom you are so good. You do so much; I, being blind, can do so little. If you will allow me" – she offered him some gold pieces, and he accepted them.

"The Holy Mother have you in her keeping," he said: and went his way.

Dogs and horses were her friends, and looked wistfully for recognition when she was near them. She scattered food for the birds, and they grew to know her; some would even pick crumbs from her hands. "I do not think," she said, "they would trust me so if I were not blind. They know I cannot see, and cannot harm them." Aaron thought differently; not a creature that drew breath could fail to trust and love this sweet woman whom God had spared to him.

Whom God had spared to him! When the thought thus expressed itself he raised his eyes to heaven in supplication.

She was the first to taste the sweet breath of spring.

"Spring is coming," she said; "the birds are trilling the joyful news. How busy they are over their nests! In a little while we shall see the flowers."

She invariably spoke of things as if she could see them, as doubtless she did with spiritual sight, investing them with a beauty which was not of this world. It was her delight in summer to sit beneath the branches of a favorite cherry tree, and to follow with her ears the gambols of her children. For she had two now.

A year after they left Gosport another child was born to them, Joseph, to whom Aaron clave with intense and passionate love. It was not that he was cold to Ruth, that he was not unremitting in showing her affection, but in his love for his son there was a finer quality of which no one but himself was conscious. He had prayed for another child, and the blessing was bestowed upon him.

In the first flush of his happiness he was tempted to regard this gift of God as a token that his sin was forgiven, but he soon thrust this reflection aside, refusing to accept his own interpretation of his sin as an atonement for its committal. It was presumptuous in man to set lines and boundaries to the judgment of the Eternal. It was to Rachel that this blessing was vouchsafed, for a time might come when she would find in it a consolation for a revelation that would embitter the sweet waters of life. Both the children were pretty and engaging, and had winning and endearing ways, which in the mother's sightless eyes were magnified a thousandfold.

In the following year a picture by a famous painter was exhibited by the Paris Salon; it was entitled "A Jewish Mother," and represented a woman sitting beneath a cherry tree in flower, with two young children gamboling on the turf at her feet. In the background were two men, the curé of the village and a Jew, the latter being the woman's husband, and looking like a modern Moses. The faces of the men-one full-flushed, with massive features and a grand beard, the other spare and lean, with thin, clear-cut features and a close-shaven face-formed a fine contrast. But although the points of this contrast were brought out in masterly fashion, and although the rustic scene was full of beauty, the supreme attraction of the picture lay in the woman's face. It dwelt in the minds of all who beheld it, and it is not too much to say that it carried with it an influence for good.

So is it also with a pure poem and story; the impression they leave is an incentive to kindly act and tolerant judgment; they soften, they ameliorate, they bring into play the higher attributes of human nature, and in their practical results a benefit is conferred equally upon the sufferer by the wayside and the Samaritan who pours oil upon his wounds.

"Who is the woman?" asked the critics, and no one could answer the question except the painter, and he held his tongue.

The secret was this: The famous painter, passing through the village with the subject of his next great picture in his mind, saw Rachel, and was spellbound by the purity and grace of her face and figure. Traveling under an assumed name, in order that he should not be disturbed by the trumpet blasts of fame-a proof (clear to few men) that there is pleasure in obscurity-he cast aside the subject he had intended to paint, and determined to take Rachel in its stead. He made himself acquainted with her story, was introduced to Aaron, and contrived to make himself welcome in their home-no difficult matter, for Aaron was ever ready to appreciate intellect.

Many an evening did this painter pass with them, sometimes in company with the curé, and many a friendly argument did they have. He did not ask Rachel and Aaron to be his models, but he made innumerable sketches of them, and remained in the village long enough to accumulate all the principal points and accessories for his picture. Then he departed and painted his masterpiece elsewhere.

Some time afterward he revisited the village with the intention of making acknowledgment for the inspiration, but Aaron and his family had departed, and the painter's secret was undivulged.

As it was with Rachel in winter and spring so was it in summer and autumn. The flowers, the butterflies, the fragrant perfumes of garden and hedgerow, all appealed powerfully to her, and all were in kinship with her. The village children would follow her in the gloaming, singing their simple songs; brawlers, ashamed, would cease contending when she came in sight; women would stand at their cottage doors, and gaze reverently upon her as she passed. Not a harsh thought was harbored against her or hers; her gentle spirit was an incentive to gentleness; she was a living tender embodiment of peace on earth and good will to all. The whisper of the corn in the autumn, when the golden stalks bowed their heads to the passing breeze, conveyed a divine message to her soul; and indeed she said seriously to Aaron that she sometimes fancied she heard voices in the air, and that they were a pleasure to her.

The three years having expired, the partnership came to an end. The engineer was invited to Russia to undertake some great work for the government, and Aaron would not accompany him.

"In the first place," he said, "I will not expose my wife and children to the rigors of such a climate. In the second place, I will not go because I am a Jew, and because, being one, I should meet with no justice in that land. In the annals of history no greater infamy can be found than the persecution to which my brethren are subjected in that horrible country. In former ages, when the masses lived and died ignorant and unlettered, like the beasts of the field, one can understand how it was that the iron hand ruled and crushed common human rights out of existence; but in these days, when light is spreading all over the world except in such a den of hideous corruption and monstrous tyranny as Russia, it is almost incredible that these cruelties are allowed to be practiced."

"How would you put a stop to them?" asked the engineer.

"I will suppose a case," Aaron answered. "You are a married man, with wife and children, and you have for your neighbor another married man with wife and children. You bring up your family decently, you treat them kindly, you have an affection for them. All round you other men with wives are doing the same; but there is one exception-your brutal neighbor. Daily and nightly shrieks of agony are heard proceeding from his house, terrible cries of suffering, imploring appeals for help and mercy. He has a numerous family of children, all of whom have been born in the house of which he is a ruler, all of whom recognize him as their king and are ready and anxious to pay him respect, all of whom have a natural claim upon him for protection, all of whom work for him and contribute toward the expenses of his household. Some of these children he loves, some he hates, and it is those he hates whom he oppresses. From them proceed these shrieks of agony, these cries of suffering, these appeals for help. You see them issue from his house torn and bleeding, their faces convulsed with anguish, their hearts racked with woe; you see them return to it-inexorable necessity drives them there; they have no other home, and there is no escape for them-trembling with fear, for the lash awaits them, and torture chambers are there to drive them to the last stage of despair. And their shrieks and supplications eternally pierce the air you breathe, while the oppressed ones stretch forth their hands to the monster who makes their lives a hell upon earth. What do they ask? That they should be allowed to live in peace. But this reasonable and natural request infuriates the tyrant. He flings them to the ground and grinds his iron heel into their bleeding flesh, he spits in their faces, and orders his torturers to draw the cords tighter around them. It is not for a day, it is not for a week, it is not for a year, it is forever. They die, and leave children behind them who are treated in the same fashion, and for them, as it was with their fathers, there is no hope. No attempt is made to hide these infamies, these cruelties, which would disgrace the lowest order of beasts; they are perpetrated in the light of day, and the monster who is responsible for them sneers at you, and says, 'If you were in their place I would treat you the same.' He laughs at your remonstrances, and draws the cords still tighter, and tortures the quivering flesh still more mercilessly, and cries, 'It is my house-they are my children, and I will do as I please with them. Their bodies are mine, they have no souls!' Talk to him of humanity, and he derides and defies you. You burn with indignation-but what action do you take?"

"It is a strong illustration," said the engineer, "but it is not with nations as with families."

"It is," said Aaron with passionate fervor. "There is no distinction in the eyes of God. We are all members of one family, and the world is our heritage. The world is divided into nations, nations into cities, towns, and villages, and these are subdivided into houses, each having its separate ruler; and though physically and geographically wide apart, all are linked by the one common tie of our common humanity. The same emotions, the same passions, the same aspirations, run through all alike. Does it make an innocent babe a malefactor because he is born in Russia instead of France or England? But it is so considered, and his life is made a misery to him by monsters who, when they give bloody work to their armies to do, blasphemously call upon the Lord of Hosts to bless their infamous banners."

It was seldom that Aaron expressed himself so passionately, and as the engineer made no reply they did not pursue the discussion.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE FAREWELL

When it became known that Aaron was about to leave the quiet resting place in which the last few years had been passed, and in which he had enjoyed peace and prosperity, a general feeling of regret was expressed, and efforts were made to induce him to change his resolution. The well-to-do and the poor alike deplored the impending loss, but their appeals were unsuccessful. There was in Aaron a latent ambition, of which he himself was scarcely aware, to move in a larger sphere, and to play his part in life among his own people. His intention had been at first to remain in the pretty French village only long enough to benefit Rachel's health, and had it not been for the chance that threw him and the engineer together, and which opened up enterprises which had led to such fortunate results, he would have fulfilled this intention and have selected some populous center in England to pursue his career.