THE MODEL'S STORY
I came here because Russia had grown intolerable to me. All my life,
and during the lives of my parents, we Quarriars had been innkeepers,
and thereby earned our bread. But Russia took away our livelihood for
herself, and created a monopoly. Thus we were left destitute. So what
could I do with a large family? Of London and America I had long heard
as places where they have compassion on foreigners. They are not
countries like Russia, where Truth exists not. Secondly, my children
also worried me greatly. They are females, all the five, and a female
in Russia, however beautiful, good and clever she be, if she have no
dowry, has to accept any offer of marriage, however uncongenial the
man may be. These things conspired to drive me from Russia. So I
turned everything into money, and realized three hundred and fifty
roubles. People had told me that the whole journey to London should
cost us two hundred roubles, so I concluded I should have one hundred
and fifty roubles with which to begin life in the new country. It was
very bitter to me to leave my Fatherland, but as the moujik says:
'Necessity brings everything.' So we parted from our friends with many
tears: little had we thought we should be so broken up in our old age.
But what else could I do in such a wretched country? As the moujik
says: 'If the goat doesn't want to go to market it is compelled to
go.' So I started for London. We travelled to Isota on the Austrian
frontier. As we sat at the railway-station there, wondering how we
were going to smuggle ourselves across the frontier, in came a
benevolent-looking Jew with a long venerable beard, two very long
ear-locks, and a girdle round his waist, washed his hands
ostentatiously at the station tap, prayed aloud the _Asher Yotzer_
with great fervour, and on finishing his prayer looked everyone
expectantly in the eyes, and all responded 'Amen.' Then he drew up his
coat-sleeve with great deliberation, extended his hand, gave me an
effusive '_Shalom Aleichem_' and asked me how it went with me. Soon he
began to talk about the frontier. Said he: 'As you see me, an _Ish
kosher_ (a ritually correct man), I will do you a kindness, not for
money, but for the sake of the _Mitzvah_ (good deed).' I began to
smell a rat, and thought to myself, How comes it that you know I want
the frontier? Your kindness is suspicious, for, as the moujik says:
'The devil has guests.' But if we need the thief, we cut him down even
from the gallows.
Such a necessary rascal proved Elzas Kazelia. I asked him how much he
wanted to smuggle me across. He answered thus: 'I see that you are a
clever respectable man, so look upon my beard and ear-locks, and you
will understand that you will receive fair treatment from me. I want
to earn a _Mitzvah_ (good deed) and a little money thereby.'
Then he cautioned me not to leave the station and go out into the
street, because in the street were to be found Jews without beards,
who would inform on me and give me up to the police. 'The world does
not contain a sea of Kazelias,' said he. (Would that it did not
contain even that one!)
Then he continued: 'Shake out your money on the table, and we will see
how much you have, and I will change it for you.'
'Oh,' said I, 'I want first to find out the rate of exchange.'
When Kazelia heard this, he gave a great spring and shrieked '_Hoi,
hoi!_ On account of Jews like you, the _Messhiach_ (Messiah) can't
come, and the Redemption of Israel is delayed. If you go out into the
street, you will find a Jew without a beard, who will charge you more,
and even take all your money away. I swear to you, as I should wish to
see Messhiach Ben David, that I want to earn no money. I only desire
your good, and so to lay up a little _Mitzvah_ in heaven.'
Thereupon I changed my money with him. Afterwards I found that he had
swindled me to the extent of fifteen roubles. Elzas Kazelia is like to
the Russian forest robber, who waylays even the peasant.
We began to talk further about the frontier. He wanted eighty roubles,
and swore by his _kosher Yiddishkeit_ (ritually pure Judaism) that the
affair would cost him seventy-five.
Thereupon I became sorely troubled, because I had understood it would
only cost us twenty roubles for all of us, and so I told him. Said he:
'If you seek others with short beards, they will take twice as much
from you.' But I went out into the street to seek a second murderer.
The second promised to do it cheaper, said that Kazelia was a robber,
and promised to meet me at the railway station.
Immediately I left, Elzas Kazelia, the _kosher_ Jew, went to the
police, and informed them that I and my family were running away from
Russia, and were going to London; and we were at once arrested, and
thrown bag and baggage into a filthy cell, lighted only by an iron
grating in the door. No food or drink was allowed us, as though we
were the greatest criminals. Such is Russian humanity, to starve
innocent people. The little provender we had in a bag scarcely kept us
from fainting with hunger. On the second day Kazelia sent two Jews
with beards. Suddenly I heard the door unlock, and they appeared
saying: 'We have come to do you a favour, but not for nothing. If your
life and the lives of your family are dear to you, we advise you to
give the police seventy roubles, and we want ten roubles for our
kindness, and you must employ Kazelia to take you over the frontier
for eighty roubles, otherwise the police will not be bribed. If you
refuse, you are lost.'
Well, how could I answer? How could one give away the last kopeck and
arrive penniless in a strange land? Every rouble taken from us was
like a piece of our life. So my people and I began to weep and to beg
for pity. 'Have compassion,' we cried. Answered they: 'In a frontier
town compassion dwells not. Give money. That will bring compassion.'
And they slammed the door, and we were locked in once more. Tears and
cries helped nothing. My children wept agonizedly. Oh, truth, truth!
Russia, Russia! How scurvily you handle the guiltless! For an
enlightened land to be thus!
'Father, father,' the children said, 'give away everything so that we
die not in this cell of fear and hunger.'
But even had I wished, I could do nothing from behind barred doors.
Our shouting was useless. At last I attracted a warder who was
watching in the corridor. 'Bring me a Jew,' I cried; 'I wish to tell
him of our plight.' And he answered: 'Hold your peace if you don't
want your teeth knocked out. Recognise that you are a prisoner. You
know well what is required of you.'
Yes, I thought, my money or my life.
On the third day our sufferings became almost insupportable, and the
Russian cold seized on our bodies, and our strength began to fail. We
looked upon the cell as our tomb, and on Kazelia as the Angel of
Death. Here, it seemed, we were to die of hunger. We lost hope of
seeing the sun. For well we know Russia. Who seeks Truth finds Death
more easily. As the Russian proverb says, 'If you want to know Truth,
you will know Death.'
At length the warder seemed to take pity on our cries, and brought
again the two Jews. 'For the last time we tell you. Give us money, and
we will do you a kindness. We have been seized with compassion for
your family.'
So I said no more, but gave them all they asked, and Elzas Kazelia
came and said to me rebukingly: 'It is a characteristic of the Jew
never to part with his money unless chastised.' I said to Elzas
Kazelia: 'I thought you were an honourable, pious Jew. How could you
treat a poor family so?'
He answered me: 'An honourable, pious Jew must also make a little
money.'
Thereupon he conducted us from the prison, and sent for a conveyance.
No sooner had we seated ourselves than he demanded six roubles. Well,
what could I do? I had fallen among thieves, and must part with my
money. We drove to a small room, and remained there two hours, for
which we had to pay three roubles, as the preparations for our
crossing were apparently incomplete. When we finally got to the
frontier--in this case a shallow river--they warned us not even to
sneeze, for if the soldiers heard we should be shot without more ado.
I had to strip in order to wade through the water, and several men
carried over my family. My two bundles, with all my belongings,
consisting of clothes and household treasures, remained, however, on
the Russian side. Suddenly a wild disorder arose. 'The soldiers! The
soldiers! Hide! Hide! In the bushes! In the bushes!'
When all was still again--though no soldiers became visible--the men
went back for the baggage, but brought back only one bundle. The
other, worth over a hundred roubles, had disappeared. Wailing helped
nothing. Kazelia said: 'Hold your peace. Here, too, dangers lurk.'
I understood the game, but felt completely helpless in his hands. He
drove us to his house, and our remaining bundle was deposited there.
Later, when I walked into the town, I went to the Rabbi and
complained. Said he: 'What can I do with such murderers? You must
reconcile yourself to the loss.'
I went back to my family at Kazelia's house, and he cautioned me
against going into the street. On my way I had met a man who said he
would charge twenty-eight roubles each for our journey to London. So
Kazelia was evidently afraid I might yet fall into honester hands.
Then we began to talk with him of London, for it is better to deal
with the devil you know than the devil you don't know. Said he: 'It
will cost you thirty-three roubles each.' I said: 'I have had an offer
of twenty-eight roubles, but you I will give thirty.' '_Hoi, hoi!_'
shrieked he. 'On a Jew a lesson is lost. It is just as at the
frontier: you wouldn't give eighty roubles, and it cost you double.
You want the same again. One daren't do a Jew a favour.'
So I held my peace, and accepted his terms. But I saw I should be
twenty-five roubles short of what was required to finish the journey.
Said Kazelia: 'I can do you a favour: I can borrow twenty-five roubles
on your luggage at the railway, and when you get to London you can
repay.' And he took the bundle, and conveyed it to the railway. What
he did there I know not. He came back, and told me he had done me a
turn. (This time it seemed a good one.) He then took envelopes, and
placed in each the amount I was to pay at each stage of the journey.
So at last we took train and rode off. And at each place I paid the
dues from its particular envelope. The children were offered food by
our fellow-passengers, though they could only take it when it was
_kosher_, and this enabled us to keep our pride. There was one kind
Jewess from Lemberg with a heart of gold and delicious rings of
sausages.
When we arrived at Leipsic they told me the amount was twelve marks
short. So we missed our train, not knowing what to do, as I had now no
money whatever but what was in the envelopes. The officials ordered us
from the station. So we went out and walked about Leipsic; we
attracted the suspicion of the police, and they wanted to arrest us.
But we pleaded our innocence, and they let us go. So we retired into a
narrow dark street, and sat down by a blank wall, and told each other
not to murmur. We sat together through the whole rainy night, the rain
mingling with our tears.
When day broke I thought of a plan. I took twelve marks from the
envelope containing the ship's money, and ran back to the station, and
took tickets to Rotterdam, and so got to the end of our overland
journey. When we got to the ship, they led us all into a shed like
cattle. One of the Kazelia conspirators--for his arm reaches over
Europe--called us into his office, and said: 'How much money have
you?' I shook out the money from the envelopes on the table. Said he:
'The amount is twelve marks short.' He had had advices, he said, from
Kazelia that I would bring a certain amount, and I didn't have it.
'Here you can stay to-night. To-morrow you go back.' So he played on
my ignorance, for I was paying at every stage in excess of the legal
fares. But I knew not what powers he had. Every official was a
possible disaster. We hardly lived till the day.
Then I began to beg him to take my _Tallis_ and _Tephillin_
(praying-shawl and phylacteries) for the twelve marks. Said he: 'I
have no use for them; you _must_ go back.' With difficulty I got his
permission to go out into the town, and I took my _Tallis_ and
_Tephillin_, and went into a _Shool_ (synagogue), and I begged someone
to buy them. But a good man came up, and would not permit the sale. He
took out twelve marks and gave them to me. I begged him to give me his
address that I might be able to repay him. Said he: 'I desire neither
thanks nor money.' Thus was I able to replace the amount lacking.
We embarked without a bit of bread or a farthing in money. We arrived
in London at nine o'clock in the morning, penniless and without
luggage, whereas I had calculated to have at least one hundred and
fifty roubles and my household stuff. I had a friend's address, and we
all went to look for him, but found that he had left London for
America. We walked about all day till eight o'clock at night. The
children could scarcely drag along from hunger and weariness. At last
we sat down on the steps of a house in Wellclose Square. I looked
about, and saw a building which I took to be a _Shool_ (synagogue), as
there were Hebrew posters stuck outside. I approached it. An old Jew
with a long grey beard came to meet me, and began to speak with me. I
understood soon what sort of a person he was, and turned away. This
_Meshummad_ (converted Jew) persisted, tempting me sorely with offers
of food and drink for the family, and further help. I said: 'I want
nothing of you, nor do I desire your acquaintance.'
'I went back to my family. The children sat crying for food. They
attracted the attention of a man, Baruch Zezangski (25, Ship Alley),
and he went away, returning with bread and fish. When the children saw
this, they rejoiced exceedingly, and seized the man's hand to kiss it.
Meanwhile darkness fell, and there was nowhere to pass the night. So I
begged the man to find me a lodging for the night. He led us to a
cellar in Ship Alley. It was pitch black. They say there is a hell.
This may or may not be, but more of a hell than the night we passed in
this cellar one does not require. Every vile thing in the world seemed
to have taken up its abode therein. We sat the whole night sweeping
the vermin from us. After a year of horror--as it seemed--came the
dawn. In the morning entered the landlord, and demanded a shilling. I
had not a farthing, but I had a leather bag which I gave him for the
night's lodging. I begged him to let me a room in the house. So he let
me a small back room upstairs, the size of a table, at three and
sixpence a week. He relied on our collecting his rent from the
kind-hearted.
We entered the empty room with joy, and sat down on the floor. We
remained the whole day without bread. The children managed to get a
crust now and again from other lodgers, but all day long they cried
for food, and at night they cried because they had nothing to sleep
on. I asked our landlord if he knew of any work we could do. He said
he would see what could be done. Next day he went out, and returned
with a heap of linen to be washed. The family set to work at once, but
I am sure my wife washed the things less with water than with tears.
Oh, Kazelia! We washed the whole week, the landlord each day bringing
bread and washing. At the end of the week he said: 'You have worked
out your rent, and have nothing to pay.' I should think not indeed!
My eldest daughter was fortunate enough to get a place at a tailor's
for four shillings a week, and the others sought washing and
scrubbing. So each day we had bread, and at the end of the week rent.
Bread and water alone formed our sustenance. But we were very grateful
all the same. When the holidays came on, my daughter fell out of work.
I heard a word 'slack.' I inquired, 'What is the meaning of the word
"slack"?' Then my daughter told me that it means _schlecht_ (bad).
There is nothing to be earned. Now, what should I do? I had no means
of living. The children cried for bread and something to sleep on.
Still we lived somehow till _Rosh Hashanah_ (New Year), hoping it
would indeed be a New Year.
It was _Erev Yomtov_ (the day before the holiday), and no washing was
to be had. We struggled as before death. The landlord of the house
came in. He said to me: 'Aren't you ashamed? Can't you see your
children have scarcely strength to live? Why have you not compassion
on your little ones? Go to the Charity Board. There you will receive
help.' Believe me, I would rather have died. But the little ones were
starving, and their cries wrung me. So I went to a Charity Board. I
said, weeping: 'My children are perishing for a morsel of bread. I can
no longer look upon their sufferings.' And the Board answered: 'After
_Yomtov_ we will send you back to Russia.' 'But meanwhile,' I
answered, 'the children want food.' Whereupon one of the Board struck
a bell, and in came a stalwart Angel of Death, who seized me by the
arm so that it ached all day, and thrust me through the door. I went
out, my eyes blinded with tears, so that I could not see where I went.
It was long before I found my way back to Ship Alley. My wife and
daughters already thought I had drowned myself for trouble. Such was
our plight the Eve of the Day of Atonement, and not a morsel of bread
to 'take in' the fast with! But just at the worst a woman from next
door came in, and engaged one of my daughters to look after a little
child during the fast (while she was in the synagogue) at a wage of
tenpence, paid in advance. With joy we expended it all on bread, and
then we prayed that the Day of Atonement should endure long, so that
we could fast long, and have no need to buy food; for as the moujik
says, 'If one had no mouth, one could wear a golden coat.'
I went to the Jews' Free School, which was turned into a synagogue,
and passed the whole day in tearful supplication. When I came home at
night my wife sat and wept. I asked her why she wept. She answered:
'Why have you led me to such a land, where even prayer costs money--at
least, for women? The whole day I went from one _Shool_ to another,
but they would not let me in. At last I went to the _Shool_ of the
"Sons of the Soul," where pray the pious Jews, with beards and
ear-locks, and even there I was not allowed in. The heathen policeman
begged for me, and said to them: "Shame on you not to let the poor
woman in." The _Gabbai_ (treasurer) answered: "If one hasn't money,
one sits at home."' And my wife said to him, weeping: 'My tears be on
your head,' and went home, and remained home the whole day weeping.
With a woman _Yom Kippur_ is a wonder-working day. She thought that
her prayers might be heard, that God would consider her plight if she
wept out her heart to Him in the _Shool_. But she was frustrated, and
this was perhaps the greatest blow of all to her. Moreover, she was
oppressed by her own brethren, and this was indeed bitter. If it had
been the Gentile, she would have consoled herself with the thought,
'We are in exile.' When the fast was over, we had nothing but a little
bread left to break our fast on, or to prepare for the next day's
fast. Nevertheless we sorrowfully slept. But the wretched day came
again, and the elder children went out into the street to seek
_Parnosoh_ (employment), and found scrubbing, that brought in
nine-pence. We bought bread, and continued to live further. Likewise
we obtained three shillings worth of washing to do, and were as rich
as Rothschild. When _Succoth_ (Tabernacles) came, again no money, no
bread, and I went about the streets the whole day to seek for work.
When I was asked what handicraftsman I was, of course I had to say I
had no trade, for, foolishly enough, among the Jews in my part of
Russia a trade is held in contempt, and when they wish to hold one up
to scorn, they say to him: 'Anybody can see you are a descendant of a
handicraftsman.'
I could write Holy Scrolls, indeed, and keep an inn, but what availed
these accomplishments? As I found I could obtain no work, I went into
the _Shool_ of the 'Sons of the Soul.' I seated myself next a man, and
we began to speak. I told him of my plight. Said he: 'I will give you
advice. Call on our Rabbi. He is a very fine man.'
I did so. As I entered, he sat in company with another man, holding
his _Lulov_ and _Esrog_ (palm and citron). 'What do you want?' I
couldn't answer him, my heart was so oppressed, but suddenly my tears
gushed forth. It seemed to me help was at hand. I felt assured of
sympathy, if of nothing else. I told him we were perishing for want of
bread, and asked him to give me advice. He answered nothing. He turned
to the man, and spoke concerning the Tabernacle and the Citron. He
took no further notice of me, but left me standing.
So I understood he was no better than Elzas Kazelia. And this is a
Rabbi! As I saw I might as well have talked to the wall, I left the
room without a word from him. As the moujik would say: 'Sad and bitter
is the poor man's lot. It is better to lie in the dark tomb and not to
see the sunlit world than to be a poor man and be compelled to beg for
money.'
I came home, where my family was waiting patiently for my return with
bread. I said: 'Good _Yomtov_,' weeping, for they looked scarcely
alive, having been without a morsel of food that day.
So we tried to sleep, but hunger would not permit it, but demanded his
due. 'Hunger, you old fool, why don't you let us sleep?' But he
refused to be talked over. So we passed the night. When day came the
little children began to cry: 'Father, let us go. We will beg bread in
the streets. We die of hunger. Don't hold us back.'
When the mother heard them speak of begging in the streets, she
swooned, whereupon arose a great clamour among the children. When at
length we brought her to, she reproached us bitterly for restoring her
to life. 'I would rather have died than hear you speak of begging in
the streets--rather see my children die of hunger before my eyes.'
This speech of the mother caused them to forget their hunger, and they
sat and wept together. On hearing the weeping, a man from next door,
Gershon Katcol, came in to see what was the matter. He looked around,
and his heart went out to us. So he went away, and returned speedily
with bread and fish and tea and sugar, and went away again, returning
with five shillings. He said: 'This I lend you.' Later he came back
with a man, Nathan Beck, who inquired into our story, and took away
the three little ones to stay with him. Afterwards, when I called to
see them in his house in St. George's Road, they hid themselves from
me, being afraid I should want them to return to endure again the
pangs of hunger. It was bitter to think that a stranger should have
the care of my children, and that they should shun me as one shuns a
forest-robber.
After _Yomtov_ I went to Grunbach, the shipping agent, to see whether
my luggage had arrived, as I had understood from Kazelia that it would
get here in a month's time. I showed my pawn-ticket, and inquired
concerning it. Said he: 'Your luggage won't come to London, only to
Rotterdam. If you like, I will write a letter to inquire if it is at
Rotterdam, and how much money is due to redeem it.' I told him I had
borrowed twenty-five roubles on it. Whereupon he calculated that it
would cost me L4 6s., including freight to redeem it. But I told him
to write and ask. Some days later a letter came from Rotterdam stating
the cost at eighty-three roubles (L8 13s.), irrespective of freight
dues. When I heard this, I was astounded, and I immediately wrote to
Kazelia: 'Why do you behave like a forest-robber, giving me only
twenty-five roubles where you got eighty-three?' Answered he: 'Shame
on you to write such a letter! Haven't you been in my house, and seen
what an honourable Jew I am? Shame on you! To such men as you one
can't do a favour. Do you think there are a sea of Kazelias in the
world? You are all thick-headed. You can't read a letter. I only took
fifty-four roubles on the luggage; I had to recoup myself because I
lost money through sending you to London. I calculated my loss, and
only took what was due to me.' I showed the letter to Grunbach, and he
wrote again to Rotterdam, and they answered that they knew nothing of
a Kazelia. I must pay the L8 13s. if I wanted my bundle. Well, what
was to be done? The weather grew colder. Hunger we had become inured
to. But how could we pass the winter nights on the bare boards? I
wrote again to Kazelia, but received no answer whatever. Day and night
I went about asking advice concerning the luggage. Nobody could help
me.
And as I stood thus in the middle of the sea, word came to me of a
_Landsmann_ (countryman) I had once helped to escape from the Russian
army, in the days when I was happy and had still my inn. They said he
had a great business in jewellery on a great highroad in front of the
sea in a great town called Brighton. So I started off at once to talk
to him--two days' journey, they said--for I knew he would help; and if
not he, who? I would come to him as his Sabbath guest; he would surely
fall upon my neck. The first night I slept in a barn with another
tramp, who pointed me the way; but because I stopped to earn sixpence
by chopping wood, lo! when Sabbath came I was still twelve miles away,
and durst not profane the Sabbath by walking. So I lingered that
Friday night in a village, thanking God I had at least the money for a
bed, though it was sinful even to touch my money. And all next day, I
know not why, the street-boys called me a _Goy_ (heathen) and a
fox--'Goy-Fox, Goy-Fox!'--and they let off fireworks in my face. So I
had to wander in the woods around, keeping within the Sabbath radius,
and when the three stars appeared in the sky I started for Brighton.
But so footsore was I, I came there only at midnight, and could not
search. And I sat down on a bench; it was very cold, but I was so
tired. But the policeman came and drove me away--he was God's
messenger, for I should perchance have died--and a drunken female with
a painted face told him to let me be, and gave me a shilling. How
could I refuse? I slept again in a bed. And on the Sunday morning I
started out, and walked all down in front of the sea; but my heart
grew sick, for I saw the shops were shut. At last I saw a jewellery
shop and my _Landsmann's_ name over it. It sparkled with gold and
diamonds, and little bills were spread over it--'Great sale! Great
sale!' Then I went joyfully to the door, but lo! it was bolted. So I
knocked and knocked, and at last a woman came from above, and told me
he lived in that road in Hove, where I found indeed my redeemer, but
not my _Landsmann_. It was a great house, with steps up and steps
down. I went down to a great door, and there came out a beautiful
heathen female with a shining white cap on her head and a shining
white apron, and she drove me away.
'Goy-Fox was yesterday,' she shouted with wrath and slammed the door
on my heart; and I sat down on the pavement without, and I became a
pillar of salt, all frozen tears. But when I looked up, I saw the
Angel of the Lord.