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Children of the Ghetto: A Study of a Peculiar People, a novel by Israel Zangwill |
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Book 1. Children Of The Ghetto - Chapter 20. The Hope Extinct |
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_ BOOK I. CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO CHAPTER XX. THE HOPE EXTINCT The strike came to an end soon after. To the delight of Melchitsedek Pinchas, Gideon, M.P., intervened at the eleventh hour, unceremoniously elbowing Simon Wolf out of his central position. A compromise was arranged and jubilance and tranquillity reigned for some months, till the corruptions of competitive human nature brought back the old state of things--for employers have quite a diplomatic reverence for treaties and the brotherly love of employees breaks down under the strain of supporting families. Rather to his own surprise Moses Ansell found himself in work at least three days a week, the other three being spent in hanging round the workshop waiting for it. It is an uncertain trade, is the manufacture of slops, which was all Moses was fitted for, but if you are not at hand you may miss the "work" when it does come. It never rains but it pours, and so more luck came to the garret of No. 1 Royal Street. Esther won five pounds at school. It was the Henry Goldsmith prize, a new annual prize for general knowledge, instituted by a lady named Mrs. Henry Goldsmith who had just joined the committee, and the semi-divine person herself--a surpassingly beautiful radiant being, like a princess in a fairy tale--personally congratulated her upon her success. The money was not available for a year, but the neighbors hastened to congratulate the family on its rise to wealth. Even Levi Jacob's visits became more frequent, though this could scarcely be ascribed to mercenary motives. The Belcovitches recognized their improved status so far as to send to borrow some salt: for the colony of No. 1 Royal Street carried on an extensive system of mutual accommodation, coals, potatoes, chunks of bread, saucepans, needles, wood-choppers, all passing daily to and fro. Even garments and jewelry were lent on great occasions, and when that dear old soul Mrs. Simons went to a wedding she was decked out in contributions from a dozen wardrobes. The Ansells themselves were too proud to borrow though they were not above lending. It was early morning and Moses in his big phylacteries was droning his orisons. His mother had had an attack of spasms and so he was praying at home to be at hand in case of need. Everybody was up, and Moses was superintending the household even while he was gabbling psalms. He never minded breaking off his intercourse with Heaven to discuss domestic affairs, for he was on free and easy terms with the powers that be, and there was scarce a prayer in the liturgy which he would not interrupt to reprimand Solomon for lack of absorption in the same. The exception was the _Amidah_ or eighteen Blessings, so-called because there are twenty-two. This section must be said standing and inaudibly and when Moses was engaged upon it, a message from an earthly monarch would have extorted no reply from him. There were other sacred silences which Moses would not break save of dire necessity and then only by talking Hebrew; but the _Amidah_ was the silence of silences. This was why the utterly unprecedented arrival of a telegraph boy did not move him. Not even Esther's cry of alarm when she opened the telegram had any visible effect upon him, though in reality he whispered off his prayer at a record-beating rate and duly danced three times on his toes with spasmodic celerity at the finale. "Father," said Esther, the never before received species of letter trembling in her hand, "we must go at once to see Benjy. He is very ill." "Has he written to say so?" "No, this is a telegram. I have read of such. Oh! perhaps he is dead. It is always so in books. They break the news by saying the dead are still alive." Her tones died away in a sob. The children clustered round her--Rachel and Solomon fought for the telegram in their anxiety to read it. Ikey and Sarah stood grave and interested. The sick grandmother sat up in bed excited. "He never showed me his 'four corners,'" she moaned. "Perhaps he did not wear the fringes at all." "Father, dost thou hear?" said Esther, for Moses Ansell was fingering the russet envelope with a dazed air. "We must go to the Orphanage at once." "Read it! What stands in the letter?" said Moses Ansell. She took the telegram from the hands of Solomon. "It stands, 'Come up at once. Your son Benjamin very ill.'" "Tu! Tu! Tu!" clucked Moses. "The poor child. But how can we go up? Thou canst not walk there. It will take _me_ more than three hours." His praying-shawl slid from his shoulders in his agitation. "Thou must not walk, either!" cried Esther excitedly. "We must get to him at once! Who knows if he will be alive when we come? We must go by train from London Bridge the way Benjy came that Sunday. Oh, my poor Benjy!" "Give me back the paper, Esther," interrupted Solomon, taking it from her limp hand. "The boys have never seen a telegram." "But we cannot spare the money," urged Moses helplessly. "We have just enough money to get along with to-day. Solomon, go on with thy prayers; thou seizest every excuse to interrupt them. Rachel, go away from him. Thou art also a disturbing Satan to him. I do not wonder his teacher flogged him black and blue yesterday--he is a stubborn and rebellious son who should be stoned, according to Deuteronomy." "We must do without dinner," said Esther impulsively. Sarah sat down on the floor and howled "Woe is me! Woe is me!" "I didden touch 'er," cried Ikey in indignant bewilderment. "'Tain't Ikey!" sobbed Sarah. "Little Tharah wants 'er dinner." "Thou hearest?" said Moses pitifully. "How can we spare the money?" "How much is it?" asked Esther. "It will be a shilling each there and back," replied Moses, who from his long periods of peregrination was a connoisseur in fares. "How can we afford it when I lose a morning's work into the bargain?" "No, what talkest thou?" said Esther. "Thou art looking a few months ahead--thou deemest perhaps, I am already twelve. It will be only sixpence for me." Moses did not disclaim the implied compliment to his rigid honesty but answered: "Where is my head? Of course thou goest half-price. But even so where is the eighteenpence to come from?" "But it is not eighteenpence!" ejaculated Esther with a new inspiration. Necessity was sharpening her wits to extraordinary acuteness. "We need not take return tickets. We can walk back." "But we cannot be so long away from the mother--both of us," said Moses. "She, too, is ill. And how will the children do without thee? I will go by myself." "No, I must see Benjy!" Esther cried. "Be not so stiff-necked, Esther! Besides, it stands in the letter that I am to come--they do not ask thee. Who knows that the great people will not be angry if I bring thee with me? I dare say Benjamin will soon be better. He cannot have been ill long." "But, quick, then, father, quick!" cried Esther, yielding to the complex difficulties of the position. "Go at once." "Immediately, Esther. Wait only till I have finished my prayers. I am nearly done." "No! No!" cried Esther agonized. "Thou prayest so much--God will let thee off a little bit just for once. Thou must go at once and ride both ways, else how shall we know what has happened? I will pawn my new prize and that will give thee money enough." "Good!" said Moses. "While thou art pledging the book I shall have time to finish _davening_." He hitched up his _Talith_ and commenced to gabble off, "Happy are they who dwell in Thy house; ever shall they praise Thee, Selah," and was already saying, "And a Redeemer shall come unto Zion," by the time Esther rushed out through the door with the pledge. It was a gaudily bound volume called "Treasures of Science," and Esther knew it almost by heart, having read it twice from gilt cover to gilt cover. All the same, she would miss it sorely. The pawnbroker lived only round the corner, for like the publican he springs up wherever the conditions are favorable. He was a Christian; by a curious anomaly the Ghetto does not supply its own pawnbrokers, but sends them out to the provinces or the West End. Perhaps the business instinct dreads the solicitation of the racial. Esther's pawnbroker was a rubicund portly man. He knew the fortunes of a hundred families by the things left with him or taken back. It was on his stuffy shelves that poor Benjamin's coat had lain compressed and packed away when it might have had a beautiful airing in the grounds of the Crystal Palace. It was from his stuffy shelves that Esther's mother had redeemed it--a day after the fair--soon to be herself compressed and packed away in a pauper's coffin, awaiting in silence whatsoever Redemption might be. The best coat itself had long since been sold to a ragman, for Solomon, upon whose back it devolved, when Benjamin was so happily translated, could never be got to keep a best coat longer than a year, and when a best coat is degraded to every-day wear its attrition is much more than six times as rapid. "Good mornen, my little dear," said the rubicund man. "You're early this mornen." The apprentice had, indeed, only just taken down the shutters. "What can I do for you to-day? You look pale, my dear; what's the matter?" "I have a bran-new seven and sixpenny book," she answered hurriedly, passing it to him. He turned instinctively to the fly-leaf. "Bran-new book!" he said contemptuously. "'Esther Ansell--For improvement!' When a book's spiled like that, what can you expect for it?" "Why, it's the inscription that makes it valuable," said Esther tearfully. "Maybe," said the rubicund man gruffly. "But d'yer suppose I should just find a buyer named Esther Ansell?" Do you suppose everybody in the world's named Esther Ansell or is capable of improvement?" "No," breathed Esther dolefully. "But I shall take it out myself soon." "In this world," said the rubicund man, shaking his head sceptically, "there ain't never no knowing. Well, how much d'yer want?" "I only want a shilling," said Esther, "and threepence," she added as a happy thought. "All right," said the rubicund man softened. "I won't 'aggle this mornen. You look quite knocked up. Here you are!" and Esther darted out of the shop with the money clasped tightly in her palm. Moses had folded his phylacteries with pious primness and put them away in a little bag, and he was hastily swallowing a cup of coffee. "Here is the shilling," she cried. "And twopence extra for the 'bus to London Bridge. Quick!" She put the ticket away carefully among its companions in a discolored leather purse her father had once picked up in the street, and hurried him off. When his steps ceased on the stairs, she yearned to run after him and go with him, but Ikey was clamoring for breakfast and the children had to run off to school. She remained at home herself, for the grandmother groaned heavily. When the other children had gone off she tidied up the vacant bed and smoothed the old woman's pillows. Suddenly Benjamin's reluctance to have his father exhibited before his new companions recurred to her; she hoped Moses would not be needlessly obtrusive and felt that if she had gone with him she might have supplied tact in this direction. She reproached herself for not having made him a bit more presentable. She should have spared another halfpenny for a new collar, and seen that he was washed; but in the rush and alarm all thoughts of propriety had been submerged. Then her thoughts went off at a tangent and she saw her class-room, where new things were being taught, and new marks gained. It galled her to think she was missing both. She felt so lonely in the company of her grandmother, she could have gone downstairs and cried on Dutch Debby's musty lap. Then she strove to picture the room where Benjy was lying, but her imagination lacked the data. She would not let herself think the brilliant Benjamin was dead, that he would be sewn up in a shroud just like his poor mother, who had no literary talent whatever, but she wondered whether he was groaning like the grandmother. And so, half distracted, pricking up her ears at the slightest creak on the stairs, Esther waited for news of her Benjy. The hours dragged on and on, and the children coming home at one found dinner ready but Esther still waiting. A dusty sunbeam streamed in through the garret window as though to give her hope. Benjamin had been beguiled from his books into an unaccustomed game of ball in the cold March air. He had taken off his jacket and had got very hot with his unwonted exertions. A reactionary chill followed. Benjamin had a slight cold, which being ignored, developed rapidly into a heavy one, still without inducing the energetic lad to ask to be put upon the sick list. Was not the publishing day of _Our Own_ at hand? The cold became graver with the same rapidity, and almost as soon as the boy had made complaint he was in a high fever, and the official doctor declared that pneumonia had set in. In the night Benjamin was delirious, and the nurse summoned the doctor, and next morning his condition was so critical that his father was telegraphed for. There was little to be done by science--all depended on the patient's constitution. Alas! the four years of plenty and country breezes had not counteracted the eight and three-quarter years of privation and foul air, especially in a lad more intent on emulating Dickens and Thackeray than on profiting by the advantages of his situation. When Moses arrived he found his boy tossing restlessly in a little bed, in a private little room away from the great dormitories. "The matron"--a sweet-faced young lady--was bending tenderly over him, and a nurse sat at the bedside. The doctor stood--waiting--at the foot of the bed. Moses took his boy's hand. The matron silently stepped aside. Benjamin stared at him with wide, unrecognizing eyes. "_Nu_, how goes it, Benjamin?" cried Moses in Yiddish, with mock heartiness. "Thank you, old Four-Eyes. It's very good of you to come. I always said there mustn't be any hits at you in the paper. I always told the fellows you were a very decent chap." "What says he?" asked Moses, turning to the company. "I cannot understand English." They could not understand his own question, but the matron guessed it. She tapped her forehead and shook her head for reply. Benjamin closed his eyes and there was silence. Presently he opened them and looked straight at his father. A deeper crimson mantled on the flushed cheek as Benjamin beheld the dingy stooping being to whom he owed birth. Moses wore a dirty red scarf below his untrimmed beard, his clothes were greasy, his face had not yet been washed, and--for a climax--he had not removed his hat, which other considerations than those of etiquette should have impelled him to keep out of sight. "I thought you were old Four-Eyes," the boy murmured in confusion--"Wasn't he here just now?" "Go and fetch Mr. Coleman," said the matron, to the nurse, half-smiling through tears at her own knowledge of the teacher's nickname and wondering what endearing term she was herself known by. "Cheer up, Benjamin," said his father, seeing his boy had become sensible of his presence. "Thou wilt be all right soon. Thou hast been much worse than this." "What does he say?" asked Benjamin, turning his eyes towards the matron. "He says he is sorry to see you so bad," said the matron, at a venture. "But I shall be up soon, won't I? I can't have _Our Own_ delayed," whispered Benjamin. "Don't worry about _Our Own_, my poor boy," murmured the matron, pressing his forehead. Moses respectfully made way for her. "What says he?" he asked. The matron repeated the words, but Moses could not understand the English. Old Four-Eyes arrived--a mild spectacled young man. He looked at the doctor, and the doctor's eye told him all. "Ah, Mr. Coleman," said Benjamin, with joyous huskiness, "you'll see that _Our Own_ comes out this week as usual. Tell Jack Simmonds he must not forget to rule black lines around the page containing Bruno's epitaph. Bony-nose--I--I mean Mr. Bernstein, wrote it for us in dog-Latin. Isn't it a lark? Thick, black lines, tell him. He was a good dog and only bit one boy in his life." "All right. I'll see to it," old Four-Eyes assured him with answering huskiness. "What says he?" helplessly inquired Moses, addressing himself to the newcomer. "Isn't it a sad case, Mr. Coleman?" said the matron, in a low tone. "They can't understand each other." "You ought to keep an interpreter on the premises," said the doctor, blowing his nose. Coleman struggled with himself. He knew the jargon to perfection, for his parents spoke it still, but he had always posed as being ignorant of it. "Tell my father to go home, and not to bother; I'm all right--only a little weak," whispered Benjamin. Coleman was deeply perturbed. He was wondering whether he should plead guilty to a little knowledge, when a change of expression came over the wan face on the pillow. The doctor came and felt the boy's pulse. "No, I don't want to hear that _Maaseh_," cried Benjamin. "Tell me about the Sambatyon, father, which refuses to flow on _Shabbos_." He spoke Yiddish, grown a child again. Moses's face lit up with joy. His eldest born had returned to intelligibility. There was hope still then. A sudden burst of sunshine flooded the room. In London the sun would not break through the clouds for some hours. Moses leaned over the pillow, his face working with blended emotions. Me let a hot tear fall on his boy's upturned face. "Hush, hush, my little Benjamin, don't cry," said Benjamin, and began to sing in his mothers jargon:
"Nay, dry thy tears, I tell thee, my little Benjamin," said Benjamin, in tones more tender and soothing, and launched into the strange wailing melody:
"The end is near," old Four-Eyes whispered to the father in jargon. Moses trembled from head to foot. "My poor lamb! My poor Benjamin," he wailed. "I thought thou wouldst say _Kaddish_ after me, not I for thee." Then he began to recite quietly the Hebrew prayers. The hat he should have removed was appropriate enough now. Benjamin sat up excitedly in bed: "There's mother, Esther!" he cried in English. "Coming back with my coat. But what's the use of it now?" His head fell back again. Presently a look of yearning came over the face so full of boyish beauty. "Esther," he said. "Wouldn't you like to be in the green country to-day? Look how the sun shines." It shone, indeed, with deceptive warmth, bathing in gold the green country that stretched beyond, and dazzling the eyes of the dying boy. The birds twittered outside the window. "Esther!" he said, wistfully, "do you think there'll be another funeral soon?". The matron burst into tears and turned away. "Benjamin," cried the father, frantically, thinking the end had come, "say the _Shemang_." The boy stared at him, a clearer look in his eyes. "Say the _Shemang_!" said Moses peremptorily. The word _Shemang_, the old authoritative tone, penetrated the consciousness of the dying boy. "Yes, father, I was just going to," he grumbled, submissively. They repeated the last declaration of the dying Israelite together. It was in Hebrew. "Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one." Both understood that. Benjamin lingered on a few more minutes, and died in a painless torpor. "He is dead," said the doctor. "Blessed be the true Judge," said Moses. He rent his coat, and closed the staring eyes. Then he went to the toilet table and turned the looking-glass to the wall, and opened the window and emptied the jug of water upon the green sunlit grass. _ |
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