Aaron the Jew: A Novel

"Mr. Cohen," said Mr. Whimpole, "I hope you do not bear animosity."

"I do not, sir," replied Aaron. "Life is too full of anxieties for needless enmity."

"I am glad to hear you say so, Mr. Cohen. I have often reproached myself for misjudging you; but the best of men may be mistaken."

"They may, sir. I trust you have changed your opinion of those whose religious views differ from your own."

"We speak as we find," said Mr. Whimpole; "and you have proved yourself to be a gentleman."

"It is never too late to admit an error," said Aaron; and, bowing again, he passed on, leaving Mr. Whimpole with an uncomfortable impression that he had once more been worsted by the man he despised.

It was night when Aaron stood by the grave of his child. Light clouds floated before the moon, and the shifting shadows played upon the graves of those who lay in peace in that solemn sanctuary. For a long time he stood in silence, musing upon the sin he had committed, the full measure of which had not yet come home to him. He held a high place among men; his name was honoured; he had been spoken of as Aaron Cohen the upright Jew; he had made himself a leader, and had but to speak to be obeyed; he had brought back strayed sheep to the fold. The Chief Rabbi had said to him, "The example of such a man as yourself is invaluable. Inroads are being made in our ancient faith, and you stand like a valiant soldier in the breach. You exercise an influence for incalculable good." And then he had blessed the man who was hugging an awful secret close, and veiling it from the eyes of men. How would it be if his sin were laid bare?

The spirit of his child seemed to rise from the grave.

"Why am I here?" it asked reproachfully. "Why am I cut off from my race?"

He beat his breast; the tears flowed down his beard.

"Forgive me, Lord of hosts," he sobbed, "for laying my child to rest in a Christian churchyard! It was to save my beloved! Pardon my transgression! Have mercy upon me!"

BOOK THE FIFTH

THE GATHERING OF THE CLOUD

CHAPTER XXXI

AARON IS ASKED FOR A SUBSCRIPTION, AND RELATES THE STORY OF A CONVERT

The highest point in Aaron Cohen's prosperity was reached in 1893. From the day of his return to England there had been no break in the onward march of his fortunes; every enterprise he undertook flourished, and the old saying was applied to him, "Everything he touches turns to gold." A kind of superstition is associated with such men; people regard them as under the spell of some beneficent enchantment. Aaron's reputation, however, was not due solely to the fact that he was uniformly fortunate in his ventures, but that he was a just and charitable man. No appeal for assistance in any worthy movement was made to him in vain; his purse was ever open, and he was ever ready to respond. Among his co-religionists he was a power for good, and his advice was sought by high and low. The poorest Jew, in a time of difficulty, did not hesitate to go to him for counsel, and only those held back whose conduct would not stand the searching light he threw upon all matters submitted to him. By the oppressor he was held in awe, by the oppressed he was worshipped. One of the former, who had grown rich by usury, came to him for advice. Aaron listened in silence, and spoke no word of counsel to assist him out of his difficulty. "Reform your life," he said; "give back to the poor what you have stolen from them; then come to me again."

He did not confine his labours and charities to the Jewish community; his name was to be found among the administrators of all their benevolent funds, and it was also to be found on the lists of numberless Christian charities. In so generous a spirit did he meet the appeals that were made to him, and so devoid of narrowness were his benefactions, that he grew into the esteem of all classes of society. Early in the year a public indignation meeting was held at the Mansion House under the auspices of the Lord Mayor, to protest against the barbarous treatment of the Jews in Russia. Church and synagogue joined hands in the common cause of human brotherhood. It was not a question of theology but of humanity, and Catholic Cardinal, Protestant Bishop, and Jewish Chief Rabbi stood shoulder to shoulder in the indignant protest. Aaron was requested to speak on the occasion, and his words went forth to the world, and were quoted far and wide. In the course of his speech he said: "We do not ask for favour, we scarcely dare ask for justice, though it is to be hoped that this will come by-and-by, when the eyes of the rulers of Russia are open to the fact that in their oppression of the Jew they are not only violating the laws of God and man, but are retarding their own prosperity. We ask merely for toleration, for permission to follow the faith in which we were born, to worship God according to our ancient usage. The history of nations furnishes the proof that the Jew, fairly treated, is a good citizen, that he is obedient to the law, and loyal to the head of the State and in his support of lawful authority. In his love of family life, in the orderly regulation of his household, in the performance of his duty to wife and children, he is surely entitled to rank with his Christian brother. He is, moreover, industrious and enterprising, he excites emulation and stimulates the commercial activity of his neighbour, by which the wealth of the general community is increased. These are distinct virtues, private and national, but Russian rulers seem to account them crimes. When a tale of bodily slavery reaches a civilised country a thrill of horror runs through the land, and it is not the least of the glorious records of England that wherever the English-speaking race holds sway the shackles of the slave are removed, and he hears the blessed words, 'You are free!' But in Russia they are not content to chain the body; they hold man's soul in bondage. Not only do they say to the Jew, 'Your presence is a contamination; you shall not live in this or that town or city; you shall not engage in such or such pursuits; you shall wear badges of disgrace;' but they add, 'You shall not think; you shall not pray.' Incredible are the instances of cruelty which are brought before us: of families torn asunder; of the deliberate wrecking of cherished hopes and worthy aspirations; of steady and honourable lives brought to ruin; of shameful robbery and pillage, and even of worse doings which I should blush to name. It is indeed time that the voice of humanity should be forced upon the ears of the oppressors who are making life horrible for millions of helpless human beings; and we, the Jewish residents in this honoured land, render our grateful homage to this distinguished assembly, and our sincere thanks for its powerful assistance in the endeavour we are making to rescue our brethren from misery and despair."

He was congratulated on all sides for these stirring words, which were recognised and acknowledged as a fitting tribute to the Jewish character. Some called it a vindication; he would not have it so. "We need no vindication now in this happy land," he said. "We have proved ourselves; the old prejudice is dying away."

When the speech was read to Rachel her eyes overflowed with tears of joy. Aaron, coming in shortly afterwards, found her holding the newspaper to her heart. She took his hand, and raised it to her lips.

"No, no," he said; "you humble me."

He folded her in his arms, where she lay, contented and happy.

As a matter of course he was sometimes beguiled into bestowing money upon unworthy objects or persons, but it did not affect him. "Where lives the man who does not make mistakes?" he said. "If there is one deserving case in ten I am satisfied." In the wide scope of his charities he had some curious experiences, and one of these, becoming known, was the theme of much comment, both serious and humorous. A gentleman called upon him and solicited a contribution to an old-established society, the name of which he did not mention. He contented himself with saying that it was known all the world over, and that its objects were universally approved of.

"You do not, I suppose," said Aaron, "expect me to give in the dark. Favour me with the name of the society."

"You have doubtless heard of it," replied the gentleman. "It is the Society for the Promotion of Christianity amongst the Jews."

Aaron smiled as he said, "Yes, I have heard of it. But, my dear sir, I am myself a Jew."

"I am aware of it," said the gentleman, "and the reason I make the appeal is that you have been described to me as a man who has no narrow prejudices, and who is in no sense dogmatic or bigoted."

"It is, then, a compliment you are paying me when you ask me to contribute to a fund which is antagonistic to my race."

"In your view antagonistic," observed the gentleman. "There are generally two sides to a question."

"I see. Meaning that my view is not necessarily the correct view."

The gentleman nodded courteously. He was not a collector for the society, nor a paid officer, but a man of means who was also noted for his benevolence.

"I have myself occasionally," he remarked, "given a donation to an object with which I was not in entire sympathy."

"When you decided to pay me a visit had you any hope of converting me?"

"Your conversion would give our society an immense impetus, but I had no hope of it. But there are men whose views are not so firmly fixed as your own, and I thought you would not object to assist them in the praiseworthy task of examining their consciences."

"Through a lens made of gold. In other words, giving them mercenary assistance to a spiritual conclusion."

"It is an original way of putting it," said the gentleman, greatly interested in the turn the conversation was taking.

"I cannot but consider the matter seriously," said Aaron, thoughtfully, "for there can be no doubt of your sincerity. Still, it occurs to me that if we were both equally sincere in our advocacy of objects of a similar nature, it would be as well that we should pause and ask ourselves this question. Instead of endeavouring to convert Jews or Christians to a faith in which they were not born, would it not be better to employ ourselves in the effort to make those who call themselves Christians true Christians, and those who call themselves Jews true Jews?"

"There is force in your argument, but it is no answer to my appeal for a contribution to the objects of my society."

"You can probably," Aaron then said, "furnish me with particulars of the working of your society."

"Anticipating your request I have brought the papers with me."

Aaron looked through the printed books and papers handed to him, and made certain calculations.

"I perceive," he said, "that you take credit to yourselves for making a stated number of conversions during the past five years, and that you have spent a stated sum of money during that period. The number of conversions is very small, the amount of money expended very large. I have worked out the sum, and according to my figures each convert has cost you nearly eleven thousand pounds. You find these wavering Jews very expensive."

"Very expensive," assented the gentleman, with a half humorous sigh.

"I cannot say I sympathise with you, but I will make a proposition to you. You are zealous in the furtherance of an object which you believe to be worthy, and I am zealous in the furtherance of an object which I know to be worthy. I will give you a cheque as a donation to your object if you will give me a cheque for half the amount as a donation to mine. Do not be afraid; it is not for the promotion of Judaism among the Christians."

The gentleman, who was rich and liberal-minded, laughed good-humouredly as he said, "I consent, on the further understanding that your cheque is for a reasonable amount."

"Will this do?" asked Aaron, filling in a cheque for one hundred pounds.

The gentleman made a wry face, but, without remark, he wrote a cheque for fifty pounds, and they exchanged documents.

"My contribution," said Aaron, "represents the one hundred and tenth part of a convert-the one hundred and tenth part of one transitory and, in all probability, worldly and insincere conversion. Your contribution represents a sick bed for two years in a hospital for poor children. During those two years you will be engaged in converting the one hundred and tenth part of an apostate Jew, and my hospital beds will be occupied by two poor Christian children, who, by God's mercy, will, I trust, be restored to health. You will pardon me for saying that I think I have the best of the transaction."

"You are a singular man," said the gentleman, "and I will not dispute with you. But I should like a few words with you upon what you say as to our converts being worldly and insincere. Is that really your opinion?"

"It is something more than an opinion. It is a conviction."

"Based upon some kind of proof, I presume?"

"Based upon proof and observation. Once a Jew, always a Jew, whether he follows the Mosaic laws or disregards them. So powerful is the seed of Judaism that it can never be entirely destroyed in the heart of one born in the ancient faith. We who are Jews know this to be incontrovertible; you who are Christians may not be able to understand it. So much for observation; now for the proof. I observe on your list of converts the name of Borlinski."

"You know the name?" the gentleman interrupted, eagerly.

"It is very familiar to me," replied Aaron.

"There are two Borlinskis on the list," said the gentleman. "Josef and Izak."

"I am acquainted with them both."

"We are very proud of the Borlinskis," said the gentleman, speaking with enthusiasm, "as the most important converts on our books. They are under engagement with us."

"On a salary?"

"Yes, an insignificant salary; twenty-five shillings a week each."

"Employed by you to make other converts."

"Yes."

"Have they been successful?"

"They have been with us for a few months only," said the gentleman. "These things take time."

"Truly, they take time-and money. Would you mind relating to me how the Borlinskis became associated with your society?"

"Not at all. It was a matter of conscience, purely a matter of conscience. That is why we are so proud of them. Josef Borlinski came first. He presented himself at our office; he had doubts; he had had doubts since childhood. In his country-Poland-no such society as ours exists, where a man can obtain monition and teaching to confirm or dispel those doubts. There are in that country converted Jews, but the conversion is sudden and effected by a kind of terrorism. Josef Borlinski is a reasonable being, and wished to be convinced through his reason. We cheerfully took up the task of convincing him of the error of his ways; we argued with him, we gave him books, he attended our meetings, we expounded the Gospel to him. At length he was satisfied, and became a zealous and happy convert to Christianity."

"How many months or years did it take to convince Josef Borlinski of his error?" asked Aaron.

"Nearly two years."

"During which time you supported him."

"We could do no less. He was desperately poor, almost starving when he came to us. Then, he was a foreigner, and the only trade-if it can be called one-to which he could turn his hand was that of an itinerant glazier, at which he could not earn more than three or four shillings a week, sometimes not so much. In any circumstances, it would have been a dangerous occupation for him to follow; he would have had to be out the whole of the day exposed to the weather, and the poor fellow is consumptive."

"So that you first adopted, and then converted him. How did you get hold of Izak Borlinski?"

"He is Josef's cousin, and Josef brought him to us."

"Zealous Josef! Izak also had doubts, and wished to be convinced through his reason?"

"That is so."

"And you adopted and converted him as well as Josef?"

"Yes."

"Clever Josef! Poor, consumptive Josef! It would not surprise me if he presently introduces another of his countrymen to you who has had doubts since childhood, and wishes to be convinced-through his reason and your pocket. Him, also, you can adopt and convert. Ah, what a loss to the stage is Josef Borlinski! Only that he lacks industry, for in him are united a fox's cunning and a sloth's love of idleness. The rogue! He imposed upon me for months, until at length, my suspicions aroused, I unmasked the rascal."

"Do you mean to say that we have been imposed upon?" asked the gentleman, in an excited tone.

"Judge for yourself. Six years ago Josef Borlinski came to this country, and lived for some time upon charity. I am on the committees of several of our benevolent institutions, and at every meeting I attended, the name of Josef Borlinski cropped up. It was always Josef Borlinski, Josef Borlinski, destitute and starving. The continual recurrence of the name irritated me, and I went to see this Josef Borlinski, destitute and starving. I found him down Whitechapel way playing draughts with his cousin, Izak. I saw before me a young man with black eyes, black hair, and a general appearance of belonging to the lymphatic order of being. I questioned him. How long had he been in England? Eighteen months. Why had he lived upon charity all that time? He was unfortunate; he could not obtain work. Was he willing to work? Oh yes, yes, yes, several times repeated, his little cunning eyes watching me as we conversed. Was he married? No. Had he a trade? Unfortunately no, he had no trade. Then, what could he do, what did he feel himself fitted for? Anything, everything. He is a man of professions this Josef Borlinski, glib of tongue, quick at response, supple as a reed, slippery as an eel. I reflected. He spoke English fairly well; he looked strong and healthy, not a symptom of consumption visible. How much a week could he, a single man, live upon? Upon anything, nothing-a few shillings, a few pence. Thus spoke Josef Borlinski, humbly and smoothly, interlarding his speech with Hebrew exclamations and pious adjurations. I offered him a situation at twenty shillings a week, to be increased if he gave satisfaction, which required no special knowledge of a trade, and in which he would have to work five days out of the seven. Boundless were his professions of gratitude. I was his benefactor; he would bless me all his life. He commenced work on the following Monday, and on the Tuesday he presented himself to me, with his coat rent, and black cloth round his hat. He had received a letter from Poland; his father was dead; a week of mourning was incumbent upon him; could he be spared to fulfil this religious obligation? Grief was in his countenance, tears in his eyes, his voice trembled. I sympathised with him; he could have his week's mourning. But he was destitute; he was starving; how was he to support himself during this week of enforced idleness? I gave him something more than a week's wages, and he departed, blessing me. His week of mourning over, it was reported to me that he had not returned to work. I sought him out, and found him playing draughts with his cousin Izak. He made a thousand excuses; he was ill; he was overwhelmed with sorrow at the loss he had sustained; he did not understand English customs; he did not think it was lawful to resume work in the middle of the week; moreover, he was in rags. He obtained money from me for a new suit of clothes, and a further extension of leave till the end of the week. On the Monday he duly presented himself, and in the afternoon fell down in a swoon, and had to be conveyed home in a cab, where he remained for three weeks, supported, as usual, by charity. My wife sent him wine and jelly, and the rascal was in clover. I visited him, and found him playing draughts with his cousin Izak. 'The game requires no exertion,' he said languidly; 'it is my only amusement; it diverts my mind from the sorrow by which I am oppressed.' I thought it extremely curious. The effects of his swoon having passed away, he commenced work again, and on the second day I received a letter from him. He had been compelled, he wrote, to take to his bed; he had spasms; he was doubled up with pain; he hoped to be better soon; meanwhile, could I send him a few shillings for medicine and food? He obtained what he asked for, and I called to see how he was progressing. I found him playing draughts with his cousin Izak. I was now thoroughly interested in Josef Borlinski. Such a chapter of accidents-such a plausible speaker and writer-so regularly unfortunate when he went to work, and so fond of playing draughts with his cousin Izak. I He was weeks getting rid of his spasms, but at length he recommenced work. Would you believe it? On the evening of the first day I found him waiting for me in this house. His left hand was in bandages, and the linen was besmeared with blood. In Heaven's name what had happened? He told me a lugubrious tale of having cut three of his fingers to the bone. The accident happening in my service made me responsible, and I felt myself bound to support him, especially as I discovered that he had related his woes to my wife, who was filled with pity for the rascal. 'You will look after the poor man,' she said to me; 'I promised him that you would.' 'I will look after him,' I replied. I did, and at every visit I paid him I found him playing draughts with his cousin Izak. He was, however, so long getting well this time, that I sent my own doctor to him. I also employed an agent to make inquiries into the history of the Borlinskis. My doctor reported that it was with great difficulty he had succeeded in obtaining a sight of Josefs wounded fingers. He had him held fast while he took off the bandages, and then he discovered that the fingers were without a scar, no wound of any kind had been received. My agent reported that the Borlinskis were well known in the village in Poland from which they had emigrated. They had lived the lives of idle scamps there, and had never been known to do one day's honest work. They preferred to hang about the drinking shops, to beg, to pilfer on the sly, to impose on charitable strangers, to do anything but work. As liars they were pre-eminent. Josef lost his father fourteen years before he came to England, therefore his statement that he had just received a letter from Poland informing him of his father's death was an invention, a trick. His swoon was a trick; his spasms a trick; his cutting his fingers to the bone a trick. From the hairs of his head to the soles of his feet he is a knave and a trickster; through his blood runs the incorrigible vice of indolence, and rather than work he will resort to any subterfuge. Only on one day in the whole year does his conscience disturb him, on the day of the White Fast. To-day a Jew, to-morrow a Christian, the next day a Mohammedan, the next a Pagan-it matters not to him so long as he can make money out of it, and eat the bread of idleness. My dear sir, I wish you joy of your Borlinskis."

The gentleman rose to take his leave, his belief in the genuineness of the conversion of the Borlinskis visibly shaken. He put but one question to Aaron Cohen.

"Josef Borlinski being what you describe him to be, what becomes of your assertion, 'Once a Jew, always a Jew'?"

"I have spoken of the White Fast," replied Aaron, "as the only day upon which Josef's conscience is awake. He believes, as we all do, in a future state, in the immortality of the soul. The White Fast is the great Day of Atonement, when Jews pray to be forgiven the sins they have committed during the past year. The most ignorant of them believe that if they pray and fast on the Day of Atonement their transgressions are atoned for. We have our black sheep, as you have; but the blackest of them observes this day with superstitious fear, and Josef Borlinski is not an exception. This year, on the Day of Atonement, I myself saw Josef in synagogue, enveloped in the white shroud he brought from Poland, beating his breast, and praying for forgiveness for his sins. From sunset to sunset food did not pass his lips; from sunset to sunset he prayed, and grovelled, and trembled. Come to our synagogue next year, and you shall see him there, if before that time he is not called to his account. Though he be converted to twenty different religions, and baptized twenty times over, Josef Borlinski is a Jew, and will remain a Jew to the last hour of his life."

CHAPTER XXXII