Aaron the Jew: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

"In the first place," he said, "I will not expose my wife and children to the rigours 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 practised."

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

"I will suppose a case," Aaron answered. "You are the ruler of an estate, upon which reside a number of families, who respect the laws you make for them, who pay you tribute, and who lead reputable lives. You know that these families are not all of one opinion upon religious matters. Some pray in churches, some in synagogues, some do not pray at all. You do not show favour to those with whose views you agree, and you do not oppress those from whom you differ. You say to them, 'You are all my subjects; so long as you obey my laws, so long as you conduct yourselves as good citizens, you shall live upon an equality, and shall have my protection. Thought is free. Worship God according to the dictates of your conscience, and be happy. For you the synagogue, for me the church. I am content.' What is the consequence? Between you and your people exists a bond of allegiance and affection. They are true and loyal to you, and you really look upon them as children of one family. In times of national distress, when a cry for help is heard in any part of your estate, the bishop of your Established Church, the Pope's cardinal, and the Chief Rabbi of the Jews meet upon common ground, free one and all to act as priests of humanity, and eager to alleviate the suffering which has arisen among them. In your government councils all creeds are represented, and the voice that is heard in decisions of national importance is truly the national voice. You have your reward. Order is preserved, property is safe, and you are respected everywhere. There are other estates in your neighbourhood which more or less resemble yours, and in which men of all creeds have equal rights. But there is one from which shrieks of agony issue daily and nightly, terrible cries of suffering, imploring appeals for help and mercy. They strike upon your ears; you cannot help hearing them. The brutal ruler of this estate has for his subjects a vast number of families, all of whom have been born on his land, all of whom recognise 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 to the expenses of his household. To those whose religious views agree with his own he shows favour and gives protection; those who are born in a different faith he hates and tortures. From them proceed these shrieks of agony, these cries of suffering, these appeals for help. You see them torn and bleeding, their faces convulsed with anguish, their hearts racked with woe; they have no other home, and there is no escape for them. Every step they take is dogged and watched; whichever way they turn the lash awaits them, and torture chambers 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 for mercy 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 for ever. 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 estate, they are my subjects, and I will do as I please with them. Let them abjure their God, and I may show them mercy. Their bodies are mine, they have no souls!' To argue with him is presumption; in his arrogant estimation of himself the 'divinity that doth hedge a king' places him above human conditions--this man, who comes of a family with a social history so degrading that, were it attached to one of low degree, he would not be admitted into decent society. 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 fervour. "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 rulers; 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 declare that the Lord of hosts is on their side, and call upon Him 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 XXIX.

[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. Coming among them a stranger, a foreigner, and an alien in religion, he had won for himself the lasting esteem of all classes of the community. The village was now an important centre, its trade was in a flourishing condition, and its population had largely increased; as a natural consequence, property had risen in value, and the old residents were growing rich. It was ungrudgingly acknowledged that all this was due to Aaron Cohen's enterprise and to the integrity of his character. The well-to-do and the poor alike deplored the impending loss, and united in their appeals to him to remain; but they 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 city in England to pursue his career. One venture had led to another, and the success which had attended them was a sufficient inducement to tarry. But now that the partnership was at an end the incentive was gone, and he was not sorry that he was in a certain sense compelled to return to his native land. One thing in his life in the village had weighed heavily upon him. There was no established synagogue in which he and his family could worship, and, as we have seen, it was in his own home that he carried out all the ceremonials of his religion. Much as Aaron had reason to be grateful for, he yearned to follow the practices of his religion among a larger body of his co-religionists, to have the honour of taking the sacred scroll from the ark, to hear the chazan's voice from the pulpit and the melodious chant of the choir, followed by the deep responses of the congregation. He had an instinctive leaning to movement and colour. He loved the peace of his home; it was his ark of rest; but he loved also the bustle and turmoil of life. He was essentially an administrator, and fitted by nature for the control and direction of large bodies of men. Had he been single he would doubtless have migrated to one of the new colonies which perennially spring up under British rule, and have taken a prominent part in its growth and development. It is greatly due to Jewish spirit and enterprise that these new countries thrive and flourish so rapidly.

There was another consideration. Aaron wished his son Joseph to grow up amid his co-religionists, to mix with them, to become familiar with their ways, so that he might be fixed firmly in the faith of his forefathers. There was no Jewish school in the village in which the lad could be educated. He looked forward to the future. Joseph would become a man, and in this village there were limitations and restrictions which were not favourable to the formation of strong character. Here was a young mind to be trained; the more comprehensive the surroundings the better the chance of worldly advancement. He discussed these matters with Rachel.