Aaron the Jew: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

"I have heard nothing of her whatever."

The conversation ceased here. The proceedings had commenced, and a gentleman was speaking. He was a man of discretion, which all orators are not. He touched lightly and pertinently upon the reputation which Mr. Aaron Cohen had earned by his unremitting acts of benevolence and by the worthiness of his career. Such a man deserved the good fortune which had attended him, and such a man's career could not fail to be an incentive to worthy endeavour. Rachel, seated by her husband, turned her sightless eyes upon the audience and listened to the speaker with gratitude and delight. It was not that she had waited for this moment to learn that she was wedded to an upright and noble man, but it was an unspeakable happiness to her to hear from the lips of others that he was appreciated as he deserved, that he was understood as she understood him. It was natural, said the speaker, that the gentleman in whose honour they had that day assembled should be held in the highest esteem by his co-religionists, but it was a glory that in a Christian country a Jew should have won from all classes of a mixed community a name which would be enrolled upon those pages of our social history which most fitly represent the march of true civilisation and humanity. They were not there to glorify Money; they were not there to glorify worldly prosperity; they were there to pay tribute to one whose example Christians well might follow, to a man without stain, without reproach. The influence of such a man in removing--no, not in removing, but obliterating--the prejudices of caste was lasting and all-powerful. He regarded it as a privilege that he had been deputed to express the general sentiment with respect to Mr. Aaron Cohen. This sentiment, he begged to add, was not confined to Mr. Cohen, but included his wife, whose charities and benevolence were perhaps even more widely known and recognised than those of the partner of her joys and sorrows. In the presence of this estimable couple it was difficult to speak as freely as he would wish, but he was sure they would understand that in wishing them long life and happiness he was wishing them much more than he dared to express in their hearing, and that there was but one feeling entertained towards them, a feeling not of mere respect and esteem, but of affection and love. In the name of the subscribers he offered for their acceptance two paintings, one a portrait of Mr. Cohen by an artist of renown, for which he had been good enough to sit, the other a painting which probably they would look upon now for the first time. The latter picture was an accidental discovery, but Mr. Cohen would tell them whether they were right in seizing the opportunity to obtain it, and whether they were right in their belief that his esteemed wife had unconsciously inspired the artist who had availed himself of a happy chance to immortalise himself.

The pictures were then unveiled amid general acclamation, and if ever Rachel wished for the blessing of sight to be restored to her it was at that moment; but it was only for a moment. The dependence she placed upon her husband, the trust she had in him, the pleasure she derived from his eloquent and sympathetic descriptions of what was hidden from her, were of such a nature that she sometimes said inly, "I am thankful I can see only through the eyes of my dear husband."

The portrait of himself, from his frequent sittings, was familiar to Aaron Cohen, but the picture of his beloved sitting beneath the cherry tree was a delightful surprise to him. It was an exquisitely painted scene, and Rachel's portrait was as faithful as if she had given months of her time towards its successful accomplishment.

Aaron's response was happy up to a certain point. Except to pay a deserved compliment to the artist and to express his gratitude to the subscribers, he said little about the portrait of himself. The presentation of the second picture supplied the theme for the principal part of his speech. He said there was no doubt that it was a portrait of his dear wife, and he recalled the time they had passed in the south of France, and described all the circumstances of the intimacy with the artist which had led to the painting of the picture. He was grateful for that intimacy because of its result, which he saw before him, and because of the pleasure it would afford his beloved wife, who, until to-day, had been as ignorant as himself that such a painting was in existence. "I went to the south of France," he said, "in the hope that my wife, who was in a delicate state of health, would be benefited by a short stay there. My hope was more than realised; she grew strong there; my son, whose absence from England deprives him of the pleasure of being present on this interesting occasion, was born there, and there the foundation of my prosperity was laid. It might be inferred from this that I believe all the events of a man's life are ruled by chance, but such is not my belief. There is an all-seeing Providence who shows us the right path; He speaks through our reason and our consciences, and except for the accident of birth, which lays a heavy burden upon many unfortunate beings, and which should render them not fully responsible for the evil they do, we ourselves are responsible for the consequences of our actions. We must accept the responsibility and the consequences." He paused a few moments before he continued. "When men of fair intelligence err they err consciously; it is idle for them to say that they erred in ignorance of the consequences. They must know, if they write with black ink, that their writing must be black." He paused again. "But it may be that a man commits a conscious error through his affections, and if that error inflicts injury upon no living being--if it even confer a benefit upon one or more--there may be some palliation of his error. In stating that you set for me a standard too high I am stating my firm belief. No man is stainless, no man is without reproach; the doctrine of infallibility applied to human affairs is monstrous and wicked; it is an arrogation of Divine power. I am, as all men are, open to error; in my life, as in the lives of all men, there have been mistakes; but I may still take the credit to myself that if I have committed a conscious error it has harmed no living soul, and that it has sprung from those affections which sweeten and bless our lives. A reference has been made to my being a Jew. I glory that I am one. The traditions and history of the race to which I am proud to belong have been of invaluable service to me, and to the circumstance of my being a Jew I owe the incidents of this day, which will be ever a proud memory to me and to my family. In the name of my dear wife and my own I thank you cordially, sincerely and gratefully for the honour you have paid to us--an honour not beyond my wife's merits, but far beyond my own."

Other speeches followed, and when the proceedings were at an end Dr. Spenlove asked Mr. Moss to introduce him to Mr. Cohen.

"Cohen," said Mr. Moss, "Dr. Spenlove wishes to be introduced to you. He practised in Portsmouth twenty years ago."

Aaron started. He never forgot a name or a face, and he recollected the mention of Dr. Spenlove's name when Mr. Moss came to him in Gosport with the child.

"Without exactly knowing it, perhaps," said Dr. Spenlove, "you have been most kind in movements in which I have taken an interest. I am glad of the opportunity of making your acquaintance."

Nothing more; no reference to the private matter. Aaron breathed more freely. He responded to Dr. Spenlove's advances, and the gentlemen parted friends.