THE HOPE OF THE FAMILY.
It was a cold, bleak Sunday afternoon, and the Ansells were spending it
as usual. Little Sarah was with Mrs. Simons, Rachel had gone to Victoria
Park with a party of school-mates, the grandmother was asleep on the
bed, covered with one of her son's old coats (for there was no fire in
the grate), with her pious vade mecum in her hand; Esther had prepared
her lessons and was reading a little brown book at Dutch Debby's, not
being able to forget the _London Journal_ sufficiently; Solomon had not
prepared his and was playing "rounder" in the street, Isaac being
permitted to "feed" the strikers, in return for a prospective occupation
of his new bed; Moses Ansell was at _Shool_, listening to a _Hesped_ or
funeral oration at the German Synagogue, preached by Reb Shemuel over
one of the lights of the Ghetto, prematurely gone out--no other than the
consumptive _Maggid_, who had departed suddenly for a less fashionable
place than Bournemouth. "He has fallen," said the Reb, "not laden with
age, nor sighing for release because the grasshopper was a burden. But
He who holds the keys said: 'Thou hast done thy share of the work; it is
not thine to complete it. It was in thy heart to serve Me, from Me thou
shalt receive thy reward.'"
And all the perspiring crowd in the black-draped hall shook with grief,
and thousands of working men followed the body, weeping, to the grave,
walking all the way to the great cemetery in Bow.
A slim, black-haired, handsome lad of about twelve, dressed in a neat
black suit, with a shining white Eton collar, stumbled up the dark
stairs of No. 1 Royal Street, with an air of unfamiliarity and disgust.
At Dutch Debby's door he was delayed by a brief altercation with Bobby.
He burst open the door of the Ansell apartment without knocking, though
he took off his hat involuntarily as he entered Then he stood still with
an air of disappointment. The room seemed empty.
"What dost thou want, Esther?" murmured the grandmother rousing herself
sleepily.
The boy looked towards the bed with a start He could not make out what
the grandmother was saying. It was four years since he had heard Yiddish
spoken, and he had almost forgotten the existence of the dialect The
room, too, seemed chill and alien.--so unspeakably poverty-stricken.
"Oh, how are you, grandmother?" he said, going up to her and kissing her
perfunctorily. "Where's everybody?"
"Art thou Benjamin?" said the grandmother, her stern, wrinkled face
shadowed with surprise and doubt.
Benjamin guessed what she was asking and nodded.
"But how richly they have dressed thee! Alas, I suppose they have taken
away thy Judaism instead. For four whole years--is it not--thou hast
been with English folk. Woe! Woe! If thy father had married a pious
woman, she would have been living still and thou wouldst have been able
to live happily in our midst instead of being exiled among strangers,
who feed thy body and starve thy soul. If thy father had left me in
Poland, I should have died happy and my old eyes would never have seen
the sorrow. Unbutton thy waistcoat, let me see if thou wearest the
'four-corners' at least." Of this harangue, poured forth at the rate
natural to thoughts running ever in the same groove, Benjamin understood
but a word here and there. For four years he had read and read and read
English books, absorbed himself in English composition, heard nothing
but English spoken about him. Nay, he had even deliberately put the
jargon out of his mind at the commencement as something degrading and
humiliating. Now it struck vague notes of old outgrown associations but
called up no definite images.
"Where's Esther?" he said.
"Esther," grumbled the grandmother, catching the name. "Esther is with
Dutch Debby. She's always with her. Dutch Debby pretends to love her
like a mother--and why? Because she wants to _be_ her mother. She aims
at marrying my Moses. But not for us. This time we shall marry the woman
I select. No person like that who knows as much about Judaism as the cow
of Sunday, nor like Mrs. Simons, who coddles our little Sarah because
she thinks my Moses will have her. It's plain as the eye in her head
what she wants. But the Widow Finkelstein is the woman we're going to
marry. She is a true Jewess, shuts up her shop the moment _Shabbos_
comes in, not works right into the Sabbath like so many, and goes to
_Shool_ even on Friday nights. Look how she brought up her Avromkely,
who intoned the whole Portion of the Law and the Prophets in _Shool_
before he was six years old. Besides she has money and has cast eyes
upon him."
The boy, seeing conversation was hopeless, murmured something
inarticulate and ran down the stairs to find some traces of the
intelligible members of his family. Happily Bobby, remembering their
former altercation, and determining to have the last word, barred
Benjamin's path with such pertinacity that Esther came out to quiet him
and leapt into her brother's arms with a great cry of joy, dropping the
book she held full on Bobby's nose.
"O Benjy--Is it really you? Oh, I am so glad. I am so glad. I knew you
would come some day. O Benjy! Bobby, you bad dog, this is Benjy, my
brother. Debby, I'm going upstairs. Benjamin's come back. Benjamin's
come back."
"All right, dear," Debby called out. "Let me have a look at him soon.
Send me in Bobby if you're going away." The words ended in a cough.
Esther hurriedly drove in Bobby, and then half led, half dragged
Benjamin upstairs. The grandmother had fallen asleep again and was
snoring peacefully.
"Speak low, Benjy," said Esther. "Grandmother's asleep."
"All right, Esther. I don't want to wake her, I'm sure. I was up here
just now, and couldn't make out a word she was jabbering."
"I know. She's losing all her teeth, poor thing."
"No, it, isn't that. She speaks that beastly Yiddish--I made sure she'd
have learned English by this time. I hope _you_ don't speak it, Esther."
"I must, Benjy. You see father and grandmother never speak anything else
at home, and only know a few words of English. But I don't let the
children speak it except to them. You should hear little Sarah speak
English. It's beautiful. Only when she cries she says 'Woe is me' in
Yiddish. I have had to slap her for it--but that makes her cry 'Woe is
me' all the more. Oh, how nice you look, Benjy, with your white collar,
just like the pictures of little Lord Launceston in the Fourth Standard
Reader. I wish I could show you to the girls! Oh, my, what'll Solomon
say when he sees you! He's always wearing his corduroys away at the
knees."
"But where is everybody? And why is there no fire?" said Benjamin
impatiently. "It's beastly cold."
"Father hopes to get a bread, coal and meat ticket to-morrow, dear."
"Well, this is a pretty welcome for a fellow!" grumbled Benjamin.
"I'm so sorry, Benjy! If I'd only known you were coming I might have
borrowed some coals from Mrs. Belcovitch. But just stamp your feet a
little if they freeze. No, do it outside the door; grandmother's asleep.
Why didn't you write to me you were coming?"
"I didn't know. Old Four-Eyes--that's one of our teachers--was going up
to London this afternoon, and he wanted a boy to carry some parcels, and
as I'm the best boy in my class he let me come. He let me run up and see
you all, and I'm to meet him at London Bridge Station at seven o'clock.
You're not much altered, Esther."
"Ain't I?" she said, with a little pathetic smile. "Ain't I bigger?"
"Not four years bigger. For a moment I could fancy I'd never been away.
How the years slip by! I shall be _Barmitzvah_ soon."
"Yes, and now I've got you again I've so much to say I don't know where
to begin. That time father went to see you I couldn't get much out of
him about you, and your own letters have been so few."
"A letter costs a penny, Esther. Where am I to get pennies from?"
"I know, dear. I know you would have liked to write. But now you shall
tell me everything. Have you missed us very much?"
"No, I don't think so," said Benjamin.
"Oh, not at all?" asked Esther in disappointed tones.
"Yes, I missed _you_, Esther, at first," he said, soothingly. "But
there's such a lot to do and to think about. It's a new life."
"And have you been happy, Benjy?"
"Oh yes. Quite. Just think! Regular meals, with oranges and sweets and
entertainments every now and then, a bed all to yourself, good fires, a
mansion with a noble staircase and hall, a field to play in, with balls
and toys--"
"A field!" echoed Esther. "Why it must be like going to Greenwich every
day."
"Oh, better than Greenwich where they take you girls for a measly day's
holiday once a year."
"Better than the Crystal Palace, where they take the boys?"
"Why, the Crystal Palace is quite near. We can see the fire-works every
Thursday night in the season."
Esther's eyes opened wider. "And have you been inside?"
"Lots of times."
"Do you remember the time you didn't go?" Esther said softly.
"A fellow doesn't forget that sort of thing," he grumbled. "I so wanted
to go--I had heard such a lot about it from the boys who had been. When
the day of the excursion came my _Shabbos_ coat was in pawn, wasn't it?"
"Yes," said Esther, her eyes growing humid. "I was so sorry for you,
dear. You didn't want to go in your corduroy coat and let the boys know
you didn't have a best coat. It was quite right, Benjy."
"I remember mother gave me a treat instead," said Benjamin with a comic
grimace. "She took me round to Zachariah Square and let me play there
while she was scrubbing Malka's floor. I think Milly gave me a penny,
and I remember Leah let me take a couple of licks from a glass of ice
cream she was eating on the Ruins. It was a hot day--I shall never
forget that ice cream. But fancy parents pawning a chap's only decent
coat." He smoothed his well-brushed jacket complacently.
"Yes, but don't you remember mother took it out the very next morning
before school with the money she earnt at Malka's."
"But what was the use of that? I put it on of course when I went to
school and told the teacher I was ill the day before, just to show the
boys I was telling the truth. But it was too late to take me to the
Palace."
"Ah, but it came in handy--don't you remember, Benjy, how one of the
Great Ladies died suddenly the next week!"
"Oh yes! Yoicks! Tallyho!" cried Benjamin, with sudden excitement. "We
went down on hired omnibuses to the cemetery ever so far into the
country, six of the best boys in each class, and I was on the box seat
next to the driver, and I thought of the old mail-coach days and looked
out for highwaymen. We stood along the path in the cemetery and the sun
was shining and the grass was so green and there were such lovely
flowers on the coffin when it came past with the gentlemen crying behind
it and then we had lemonade and cakes on the way back. Oh, it was just
beautiful! I went to two other funerals after that, but that was the one
I enjoyed most. Yes, that coat did come in useful after all for a day in
the country."
Benjamin evidently did not think of his own mother's interment as a
funeral. Esther did and she changed the subject quickly.
"Well, tell me more about your place."
"Well, it's like going to funerals every day. It's all country all round
about, with trees and flowers and birds. Why, I've helped to make hay in
the autumn."
Esther drew a sigh of ecstasy. "It's like a book," she said.
"Books!" he said. "We've got hundreds and hundreds, a whole
library--Dickens, Mayne Reid, George Eliot, Captain Marryat,
Thackeray--I've read them all."
"Oh, Benjy!" said Esther, clasping her hands in admiration, both of the
library and her brother. "I wish I were you."
"Well, you could be me easily enough."
"How?" said Esther, eagerly.
"Why, we have a girls' department, too. You're an orphan as much as me.
You get father to enter you as a candidate."
"Oh, how could I, Benjy?" said Esther, her face falling. "What would
become of Solomon and Ikey and little Sarah?"
"They've got a father, haven't they? and a grandmother?"
"Father can't do washing and cooking, you silly boy! And grandmother's
too old."
"Well, I call it a beastly shame. Why can't father earn a living and
give out the washing? He never has a penny to bless himself with."
"It isn't his fault, Benjy. He tries hard. I'm sure he often grieves
that he's so poor that he can't afford the railway fare to visit you on
visiting days. That time he did go he only got the money by selling a
work-box I had for a prize. But he often speaks about you."
"Well, I don't grumble at his not coming," said Benjamin. "I forgive him
that because you know he's not very presentable, is he, Esther?"
Esther was silent. "Oh, well, everybody knows he's poor. They don't
expect father to be a gentleman."
"Yes, but he might look decent. Does he still wear those two beastly
little curls at the side of his head? Oh, I did hate it when I was at
school here, and he used to come to see the master about something. Some
of the boys had such respectable fathers, it was quite a pleasure to see
them come in and overawe the teacher. Mother used to be as bad, coming
in with a shawl over her head."
"Yes, Benjy, but she used to bring us in bread and butter when there had
been none in the house at breakfast-time. Don't you remember, Benjy?"
"Oh, yes, I remember. We've been through some beastly bad times,
haven't we, Esther? All I say is you wouldn't like father coming in
before all the girls in your class, would you, now?"
Esther blushed. "There is no occasion for him to come," she said
evasively.
"Well, I know what I shall do!" said Benjamin decisively; "I'm going to
be a very rich man--"
"Are you, Benjy?" inquired Esther.
"Yes, of course. I'm going to write books--like Dickens and those
fellows. Dickens made a pile of money, just by writing down plain
every-day things going on around."
"But you can't write!"
Benjamin laughed a superior laugh, "Oh, can't I? What about _Our Own_,
eh?"
"What's that?"
"That's our journal. I edit it. Didn't I tell you about it? Yes, I'm
running a story through it, called 'The Soldier's Bride,' all about life
in Afghanistan."
"Oh, where could I get a number?"
"You can't get a number. It ain't printed, stupid. It's all copied by
hand, and we've only got a few copies. If you came down, you could see
it."
"Yes, but I can't come down," said Esther, with tears in her eyes.
"Well, never mind. You'll see it some day. Well, what was I telling you?
Oh, yes! About my prospects. You see, I'm going in for a scholarship in
a few months, and everybody says I shall get it. Then, perhaps I might
go to a higher school, perhaps to Oxford or Cambridge!"
"And row in the boat-race!" said Esther, flushing with excitement.
"No, bother the boat-race. I'm going in for Latin and Greek. I've begun
to learn French already. So I shall know three foreign languages."
"Four!" said Esther, "you forget Hebrew!"
"Oh, of course, Hebrew. I don't reckon Hebrew. Everybody knows Hebrew.
Hebrew's no good to any one. What I want is something that'll get me on
in the world and enable me to write my books."
"But Dickens--did he know Latin or Greek?" asked Esther.
"No, he didn't," said Benjamin proudly. "That's just where I shall have
the pull of him. Well, when I've got rich I shall buy father a new suit
of clothes and a high hat--it _is_ so beastly cold here, Esther, just
feel my hands, like ice!--and I shall make him live with grandmother in
a decent room, and give him an allowance so that he can study beastly
big books all day long--does he still take a week to read a page? And
Sarah and Isaac and Rachel shall go to a proper boarding school, and
Solomon--how old will he be then?"
Esther looked puzzled. "Oh, but suppose it takes you ten years getting
famous! Solomon will be nearly twenty."
"It can't take me ten years. But never mind! We shall see what is to be
done with Solomon when the time comes. As for you--"
"Well, Benjy," she said, for his imagination was breaking down.
"I'll give you a dowry and you'll get married. See!" he concluded
triumphantly.
"Oh, but suppose I shan't want to get married?"
"Nonsense--every girl wants to get married. I overheard Old Four-Eyes
say all the teachers in the girls' department were dying to marry him.
I've got several sweethearts already, and I dare say you have." He
looked at her quizzingly.
"No, dear," she said earnestly. "There's only Levi Jacobs, Reb Shemuel's
son, who's been coming round sometimes to play with Solomon, and brings
me almond-rock. But I don't care for him--at least not in that way.
Besides, he's quite above us."
"_Oh_, is he? Wait till I write my novels!"
"I wish you'd write them now. Because then I should have something to
read--Oh!"
"What's the matter?"
"I've lost my book. What have I done with my little brown book?"
"Didn't you drop it on that beastly dog?"
"Oh, did I? People'll tread on it on the stairs. Oh dear! I'll run down
and get it. But don't call Bobby beastly, please."
"Why not? Dogs are beasts, aren't they?"
Esther puzzled over the retort as she flew downstairs, but could find no
reply. She found the book, however, and that consoled her.
"What have you got hold of?" replied Benjamin, when she returned.
"Oh, nothing! It wouldn't interest you."
"All books interest me," announced Benjamin with dignity.
Esther reluctantly gave him the book. He turned over the pages
carelessly, then his face grew serious and astonished.
"Esther!" he said, "how did you come by this?"
"One of the girls gave it me in exchange for a stick of slate pencil.
She said she got it from the missionaries--she went to their
night-school for a lark and they gave her it and a pair of boots as
well."
"And you have been reading it?"
"Yes, Benjy," said Esther meekly.
"You naughty girl! Don't you know the New Testament is a wicked book?
Look here! There's the word 'Christ' on nearly every page, and the word
'Jesus' on every other. And you haven't even scratched them out! Oh, if
any one was to catch you reading this book!"
"I don't read it in school hours," said the little girl deprecatingly.
"But you have no business to read it at all!"
"Why not?" she said doggedly. "I like it. It seems just as interesting
as the Old Testament, and there are more miracles to the page.''
"You wicked girl!" said her brother, overwhelmed by her audacity.
"Surely you know that all these miracles were false?"
"Why were they false?" persisted Esther.
"Because miracles left off after the Old Testament! There are no
miracles now-a-days, are there?"
"No," admitted Esther.
"Well, then," he said triumphantly, "if miracles had gone overlapping
into New Testament times we might just as well expect to have them now."
"But why shouldn't we have them now?"
"Esther, I'm surprised at you. I should like to set Old Four-Eyes on to
you. He'd soon tell you why. Religion all happened in the past. God
couldn't be always talking to His creatures."
"I wish I'd lived in the past, when Religion was happening," said Esther
ruefully. "But why do Christians all reverence this book? I'm sure there
are many more millions of them than of Jews!"
"Of course there are, Esther. Good things are scarce. We are so few
because we are God's chosen people."
"But why do I feel good when I read what Jesus said?"
"Because you are so bad," he answered, in a shocked tone. "Here, give me
the book, I'll burn it."
"No, no!" said Esther. "Besides there's no fire."
"No, hang it," he said, rubbing his hands. "Well, it'll never do if you
have to fall back on this sort of thing. I'll tell you what I'll do.
I'll send you _Our Own_."
"Oh, will you, Benjy? That is good of you," she said joyfully, and was
kissing him when Solomon and Isaac came romping in and woke up the
grandmother.
"How are you, Solomon?" said Benjamin. "How are you, my little man," he
added, patting Isaac on his curly head. Solomon was overawed for a
moment. Then he said, "Hullo, Benjy, have you got any spare buttons?"
But Isaac was utterly ignorant who the stranger could be and hung back
with his finger in his mouth.
"That's your brother Benjamin, Ikey," said Solomon.
"Don't want no more brovers," said Ikey.
"Oh, but I was here before you," said Benjamin laughing.
"Does oor birfday come before mine, then?"
"Yes, if I remember."
Isaac looked tauntingly at the door. "See!" he cried to the absent
Sarah. Then turning graciously to Benjamin he said, "I thant kiss oo,
but I'll lat oo teep in my new bed."
"But you _must_ kiss him," said Esther, and saw that he did it before
she left the room to fetch little Sarah from Mrs. Simons.
When she came back Solomon was letting Benjamin inspect his Plevna
peep-show without charge and Moses Ansell was back, too. His eyes were
red with weeping, but that was on account of the _Maggid_. His nose was
blue with the chill of the cemetery.
"He was a great man." he was saying to the grandmother. "He could
lecture for four hours together on any text and he would always manage
to get back to the text before the end. Such exegetics, such homiletics!
He was greater than the Emperor of Russia. Woe! Woe!"
"Woe! Woe!" echoed the grandmother. "If women were allowed to go to
funerals, I would gladly have, followed him. Why did he come to England?
In Poland he would still have been alive. And why did I come to England?
Woe! Woe'"
Her head dropped back on the pillow and her sighs passed gently into
snores. Moses turned again to his eldest born, feeling that he was
secondary in importance only to the _Maggid_, and proud at heart of his
genteel English appearance.
"Well, you'll soon be _Bar-mitzvah_, Benjamin." he said, with clumsy
geniality blent with respect, as he patted his boy's cheeks with his
discolored fingers.
Benjamin caught the last two words and nodded his head.
"And then you'll be coming back to us. I suppose they will apprentice
you to something."
"What does he say, Esther?" asked Benjamin, impatiently.
Esther interpreted.
"Apprentice me to something!" he repeated, disgusted. "Father's ideas
are so beastly humble. He would like everybody to dance on him. Why he'd
be content to see me a cigar-maker or a presser. Tell him I'm not coming
home, that I'm going to win a scholarship and to go to the University."
Moses's eyes dilated with pride. "Ah, you will become a Rav," he said,
and lifted up his boy's chin and looked lovingly into the handsome face.
"What's that about a Rav, Esther?" said Benjamin. "Does he want me to
become a Rabbi--Ugh! Tell him I'm going to write books."
"My blessed boy! A good commentary on the Song of Songs is much needed.
Perhaps you will begin by writing that."
"Oh, it's no use talking to him, Esther. Let him be. Why can't he speak
English?"
"He can--but you'd understand even less," said Esther with a sad smile.
"Well, all I say is it's a beastly disgrace. Look at the years he's been
in England--just as long as we have." Then the humor of the remark
dawned upon him and he laughed. "I suppose he's out of work, as usual,"
he added.
Moses's ears pricked up at the syllables "out-of-work," which to him was
a single word of baneful meaning.
"Yes," he said in Yiddish. "But if I only had a few pounds to start with
I could work up a splendid business."
"Wait! He shall have a business," said Benjamin when Esther interpreted.
"Don't listen to him," said Esther. "The Board of Guardians has started
him again and again. But he likes to think he is a man of business."
Meantime Isaac had been busy explaining Benjamin to Sarah, and pointing
out the remarkable confirmation of his own views as to birthdays. This
will account for Esther's next remark being, "Now, dears, no fighting
to-day. We must celebrate Benjy's return. We ought to kill a fatted
calf--like the man in the Bible."
"What are you talking about, Esther?" said Benjamin suspiciously.
"I'm so sorry, nothing, only foolishness," said Esther. "We really must
do something to make a holiday of the occasion. Oh, I know; we'll have
tea before you go, instead of waiting till supper-time. Perhaps
Rachel'll be back from the Park. You haven't seen her yet."
"No, I can't stay," said Benjy. "It'll take me three-quarters of an
hour getting to the station. And you've got no fire to make tea with
either."
"Nonsense, Benjy. You seem to have forgotten everything; we've got a
loaf and a penn'uth of tea in the cupboard. Solomon, fetch a farthing's
worth of boiling water from the Widow Finkelstein."
At the words "widow Finkelstein," the grandmother awoke and sat up.
"No, I'm too tired," said Solomon. "Isaac can go."
"No," said Isaac. "Let Estie go."
Esther took a jug and went to the door.
"Méshe," said the grandmother. "Go thou to the Widow Finkelstein."
"But Esther can go," said Moses.
"Yes, I'm going," said Esther.
"Méshe!" repeated the Bube inexorably. "Go thou to the Widow
Finkelstein."
Moses went.
"Have you said the afternoon prayer, boys?" the old woman asked.
"Yes," said Solomon. "While you were asleep."
"Oh-h-h!" said Esther under her breath. And she looked reproachfully at
Solomon.
"Well, didn't you say we must make a holiday to-day?" he whispered back.