The Jew

CHAPTER XIV.

ALEA JACTA EST.

The audience had listened attentively. The impressions produced were different and not altogether favourable. Some faces expressed an ironical disapprobation, others impatience and weariness. Nevertheless, after the lecture was over they all hastened to thank the orator with many compliments. After a while the critics commenced:--

"Fanaticism plays a great part in this historical lecture," remarked Henri Segel.

"I do not like these legends; they are pure invention," said another.

"All these old persecutions appear improbable today," added a third.

"They can, nevertheless, be renewed with the most frightful details against us or against other nations," replied Jacob. "Conquerors are always savage in their vengeance, whether they are called Nero, Domitian, Trajan, Adrian, or"--

He was interrupted by some one who asked:--

"What, in the nineteenth century?"

"Yes; in our own times. Utinam simfalsus vates! Can I be a false prophet?"

"But, monsieur," said Muse, "you owe us something more gay, more agreeable."

"Hebrew literature furnishes certainly agreeable and amusing stories, but the choice is difficult."

Jacob turned some pages of the Talmud.

"The Rabbi Gamaliel, who was put to death by Rufus in the same manner as Akiba, related one day to a pagan prince the creation of woman in Genesis.

"'If that is true,' said the prince, 'your God acts like a malefactor, robbing a rib from Adam during his sleep.'

"The younger daughter of Gamaliel heard of the conversation.

"'Permit me, father, to reply,' said she.

"The rabbi consented, and she approached the prince supplicatingly.

"'My lord,' said she, 'I come to demand justice.'

"'What has happened?'

"'A robbery has been committed in our house: a thief entered the house in the night and stole a silver cup, leaving in its place a golden one.'

"'What an honest thief! Would to Heaven we had more like him!' cried the prince.

"'Very well, then, my lord. Our God is a malefactor of the same stamp. He took from Adam a part of his body, and gave him the beautiful Eve in exchange.'

"'The comparison is ingenious; but your God had better have acted in a frank and open manner. Why should he have employed clandestine means?'

"The young girl said in reply:--

"'Will you permit me to bring here a piece of raw meat?'

"'Certainly.'

"As soon as she had the meat the daughter of Gamaliel went to the fire, cut it, and prepared it in the presence of the astonished prince, and when it was cooked, invited him to eat.

"'My child, I know it is well cooked, but to have seen it done in detail takes away my appetite.'

"'Behold why God did not wish Adam to assist at the preparation of his wife. Perhaps he also would not have wished to possess her.'

"The Talmud," continued Jacob, "explains why God did not take the woman from the eyes, nor the mouth, nor the arms."

"Suspend the conversation and conceal the Talmud. I hear knocks at the door," said Henri.

"Why should I do that?"

"Perhaps it is a stranger; it is not desirable that he should surprise us in full Judaism."

"Should we, then, be ashamed of our part?" said Jacob sadly.

Kruder, who had left the room, entered, pale and agitated.

"What is it?" asked Bartold.

"While you have been so quiet here there has been a massacre. The military have surprised a political meeting, and it is said that many were killed and wounded."

"Let us go!" cried Jacob. "Let us go where the blood flows, and where victims are demanded. We should be found there;" and he seized his hat, but Bartold withheld him.

"Wait," said he; "this is but the prologue of the drama. It is evident that we should not hold ourselves aloof, there I agree with you; but we must not act in an imprudent manner. The thing is probably over for to-day. I propose that we consult together as to what is best to do."

"Where, where?" came from all sides.

"At Mann's. We can do nothing without him."

"When?"

"To-morrow morning."

Kruder threw himself in a chair. "Alea jacta est," said he. "Unhappy Poland!"

The tragedy occurred on the street, at a time when the nobles had arrived from all parts of the kingdom, for a general reunion of the Agricultural Society. No one had foreseen the sinister event, no one wished for it; but an invisible hand seemed to precipitate it.

After he left Bartold's, Jacob could not resist the temptation to visit the scene of the catastrophe. A lugubrious silence reigned there. Noiseless pedestrians hurriedly regained their homes, gliding silently through the misty shadows. Here and there a sentinel was stationed. On the grave faces of the soldiers he believed that he could read the struggle between military honour and human duty.

Near the Hotel Europe Jacob met a group of nobles who came out of the governmental palace; they were excited, and conversed in low voices. As he passed on, by the door of the hotel, some one seized his hand, and he recognized Gromof, the companion of Lucie Coloni. Taking his arm, Gromof drew him into the house, and made him mount several pairs of stairs without saying a word.

They entered the apartment of the Italian lady, and found her seated on a couch. She looked at Gromof and left the room; alone with Jacob, the Russian said:--

"You are young, monsieur, and you cannot be altogether indifferent to that which is happening; you ought to know everything about it."

"Of what?"

"Of the intended revolution."

"I know absolutely nothing, I assure you."

"Do you take me for a spy, an informer?" asked Gromof.

"Be cool and wise, my friend. I have scarcely returned to my home. I am a Jew, and, if you will recall it, in the depths of my soul an enemy to all revolution."

"And why are you opposed to revolutions?"

"Because they lead to nothing, they are convulsive maladies, they retard the normal march of progress, and their cruel repressions push the people to despair. I think that there are means more efficacious than rebellions; but this discussion will lead us too far. I am not a revolutionist, I repeat to you; but if this country, which is the land of my choice, needs my blood and my life, I will give them willingly. I will go with the others."

"You are a man of good faith. It is enough to see you and to hear you to be convinced of it. I will then be as frank with you as I can, without betraying the secrets of others. I am a revolutionist myself by principle, for I am a Russian. My neck bears the mark of an iron collar; on my arms are imprints made by chains; the stigma of slavery is engraved on my thoughts, on my conscience, and on my words. I am ready to sacrifice myself to overthrow the world, to shed torrents of blood, at any cost to deliver my country from intellectual servitude, from moral degradation, from a maternal slavery which makes me blush to call myself a Russian in the eyes of the world. With us a revolution is a necessity. Otherwise we shall never gain the rights of men; but in this uprising we must be united. Wait until we give the signal; then march united; if you engage in this combat against despotism alone, you will compromise both your future and ours. Use, I entreat you, all your influence to stop this absurd, tempestuous, and premature outbreak. Russia will remain chained for a century yet, if your foolish precipitation is not abated. If you rebel now, you will only be playing into their hands; it is the very thing they want you to do; as in 1812, they will appeal to the patriotism of the masses, and set them upon you like wild beasts after their prey. An infamous bureaucracy will wallow in the blood of vanquished Poland; oppressed and down-trodden, she will find it difficult to rise again. There will be persecutions, murders, and exile of hundreds at a time to Siberia. That is what awaits you if you do not take my warning."

"Have you talked with any of our young men?"

"Yes; with some of the military; but scarcely had I opened my mouth when they took me for an agent of the third section, and would not listen to me. And yet, if these madmen would only remain quiet two or three years, we Russian revolutionists would have time to work through the army and to instil in all hearts a desire for freedom, to turn the emancipation of the serfs made for the profit of the government against this same government, and to spread from the shores of the Neva the cry of freedom for Russia as well as for Poland. It is certain to come some day; but your headstrong Poles will retard it if they do not listen to reason. Could you not arrange for me to meet some of the leaders of the agitation?"

"Truly, I do not know them. A youth who has more enthusiasm than good sense appears to be the leader in this movement."

"This youth is only an instrument, I think," said the Russian. "Where are the serious men, the earnest ones?"

"I do not believe there are any."

"Young men are active in war, but need old men in counsel. How came the country to be abandoned to such authority? You are mocking me, no doubt. You do not trust me. You will not speak."

"If I had had suspicions, they might have been justified, for I hardly know you; but I give you my word of honour that I do not belong to any such conspiracy, nor to any secret society. I am ready, however, to give my life when the hour of the supreme holocaust arrives."

"I believe you; but your heroism is inconceivable. To be willing to die with those who do not confide in you is strange."

"It is not so strange, and it is not heroism. It will only be the accomplishment of my duty, and a proof that there are some Jews who deserve a country, and that some of us love Poland."

"Will you save her by your devotion?"

"No. And we ourselves will perish; but we shall have contracted an alliance of blood with this country."

"All that is very fine and very poetic, but politics require something else; they do not rely on sentimental pity. By her reiterated heroisms, Poland has weakened herself and perishes. Calculation, opportunity, and stratagem may save her. Why does she not seek to make allies of her own oppressors, when nothing could be easier? Why has she given up her place in the government of Russia to the Germans? Why has she not sought to take up all governmental interests, to endear herself to us, and to communicate to us her liberalism, her brilliant civilization? Why has she not been more politic? She has furnished us only some nobles with great names but without worth, lackeys in court dress; but men of real importance, not one. They have all kept aloof. In one century, since the first partition of your country, what has been your influence? The Poles are much more enlightened than the Russians; could you not have been benefactors? In a century so little has been done. You have dissipated the years in frivolity, and each generation has thrown itself entirely unprepared into a revolution, always cruelly repressed, the result of which was exile and oppression. Wives have left their luxurious homes and accompanied their husbands to Siberia. You have harangued, written, and revealed to the Russian government your own weakness, so that they know how to strike and how you will take the blow. The Poles have the chivalrous instinct too fully developed; you do not dissemble enough. My word for it, you must meet intrigue with intrigue. If you do not, you will perish utterly, and you will have deserved it by your candour."

"A generation will perish, perhaps," said Jacob, "but not Poland. Under Russian oppression, under the knout and the gallows, she will learn to be more serious, more persevering, and more wise. The cowardly will be terrorized, but they will be the exception."

"Do you know what your spiritual writer, Rzewuski, said to a Russian general?"

"No; I have not heard it."

"'I have a wonderful way of discovering the honesty of a Russian and the good sense of a Pole.'

"'What is the way?' asked the general.

"'It is only to look in the palm of the hand to see if there are any hairs there.'"

"That is true," said Gromof. "The Poles lack good sense and we lack honesty. From the time of Ivan the Terrible we have been taught to lie, to steal, and to kill for the public good. Such teachings for three generations have naturally borne their fruit. As for the Poles, after experiencing such misfortunes by their precipitation, they should have acquired common-sense and judgment; but they have not, I regret to say."

"What do you wish of me, monsieur?" said Jacob.

"I wish you to try and quell the passions of your youthful revolutionists. Pray, supplicate, admonish, and entreat them to wait; in the name of Heaven, to wait; and if you think your influence is not great enough, introduce me to a leader, a chief."

"One word, monsieur," said Jacob. "How can I be sure that you are worthy of confidence; you are a Russian; what proofs can you give of being worthy of our confidence?"

"I assure you I merit your whole confidence," cried Gromof, "and I will give proofs in writing and on my own body. I will show on my back ridges left there by the knout, and on my arms the mark of chains. But, no! no! they do not wish to believe me. Unhappy Poland will fail to secure liberty, for her a forbidden fruit! The throne of the Czar will be strengthened by those who thought to overthrow it. The court will continue to suck the people's blood. Oh, what a satanic laugh does your idiotic revolution provoke in me! I will be among the first to prey on you, to avenge myself for my destroyed hopes. Yes, I will go to see you all hung with pleasure, for you will have ruined our future."

"Be calm," said Jacob; "we have not yet commenced a revolution, and perhaps it may be averted. These youth are only a handful; they may yet be suppressed."

"No; if young men are at the head, neither themselves nor any one else can hold them back. They will go to any length. Youth and the mob are two inflammable elements. The sacrifice will be accomplished. There will be a heap of corpses, and the bureaucracy will make merry with their samovars and their brandy on the battle-field. I see your future: the country ravaged, villages depopulated, cities pillaged, chained galley slaves marching towards Siberia, bloody executions, an insatiable vengeance, and everywhere ruins and ashes. That will be your fate for having retarded Russian liberty by your premature revolution."

"Do not be so excited, I pray you."

"Not be excited! That is easy to say. Have you suffered as I have? Do you know what exile is? Do you know anything about penal labour? I was condemned to it for life, but I escaped. Such labour is very hard, but exile is even more intolerable."

After a short silence Gromof continued:--

"Braving all personal danger, I come here to prevent, if possible, a fatal precipitation; but I fear it is too late."

"But," said Jacob, "how can they commence a revolution without arms, without money, without leaders or soldiers?"

"Your crazy youth would go to battle with sticks and staves. The government, to encourage them, or rather to lead them into the snare of their own destruction, have permitted the underhand introduction of a small quantity of arms; they have been allowed to amass a little money, and the government has seemed to have its eyes shut to a movement that it has really instigated. Afterward they can repress it when they desire. In the eyes of Europe, the first aggression will be on your side. Your folly will have been heroic, but will only obtain a barren sympathy. Europe will authorize by her silence the horrible cruelties which Poland will again endure, and despotism, by this crafty political stroke, will be reinforced for a long time."

Jacob did not reply, and Gromof grew warmer and warmer, when Lucie Coloni came out of the next room, and, putting her hand on his brow, said in a caressing tone:--

"Serge, calm yourself, or you will be ill."

"It will kill me!" said Gromof, hanging his head for a moment, then raising it he cried furiously:--

"Bad luck to you! Bad luck to you, if our project is ruined by you foolish Poles!"

Jacob drew out his watch; the situation was unpleasant and he did not know what to do, what to say. The Russian looked at him reproachfully as if he had thrown cold water on his hopes; he seated himself again, and instead of acting like one possessed, Gromof suddenly became pleasant and agreeable.

"Pardon me, Monsieur Jacob," said he, "for having revealed to you the sufferings of my inmost heart. Savage blood flows in my veins, which is repressed only by civilization. All my countrymen are the same; we Russians are savages at heart, but you know now what I want of you or any other person who has political influence in the present crisis."

They parted, and Jacob passing safely by the guards regained his dwelling.

CHAPTER XV.

A PERILOUS INTERVIEW.

Returned home, Jacob found a note from Muse, who implored him, no matter at what hour he returned, to come to her, saying she would wait for him if necessary until morning.

Until now the grave young man, notwithstanding the marked devotion of his lovely proselyte, had known how to maintain when in her presence a respectful distance, avoiding all familiar and compromising relations. The mother and daughter endeavoured in vain to put him in a compromising position. More than once things were arranged so that he was alone with the young girl, who then employed an insinuating sweetness and provoking tenderness; but Jacob did not cease to be respectful and dignified. There had been moments when this charming creature, animated by a simulated passion, and recalling the Greek bacchantes, had produced in him an involuntary sensation; but he conquered it, and his love for Mathilde served as a shield to defend him against temptation.

It was past midnight when the servant who had brought the letter told him that he was expected on the floor below. Jacob hesitated; but he thought that some urgent business had caused these ladies to appeal to him, and he decided to go.

He found Muse in a light piquant yet modest dress, her beautiful hair partly unconfined, her shoulders a little uncovered, as if by chance. She held a handkerchief, and was all prepared for tears. When he entered, she ran to meet him.

"Oh, Monsieur Jacob!" cried she, taking his hand. "What has happened? Where have you been? You were no doubt mixed up in this affair. Oh, I ask you, for mercy's sake, not to throw yourself in the fray. Does not friendship permit me to ask this of you?"

She fixed her eyes tenderly on Jacob, who, perfectly calm, did not reply. Muse continued:--

"I am all in a tremble about you. Do not misjudge my feelings, for I have for you only the sentiments of a sister," and she pressed his hand for the second time.

"I thank you very much, mademoiselle; but I give you my word of honour that I know nothing of the events that have taken place, and I do not intend to take part in the fray."

"In that case, why this prolonged absence?"

"By a singular chance a person of my acquaintance stopped me and the conversation lasted long."

"It is useless, you cannot deceive me;" and saying this she seized both of his hands and leaned toward him. He could hear the beating of her heart, her breath fanned his cheek, and her eyes sought to magnetize him.

"I will tell you, then, that I passed the rest of the evening with a Russian," said Jacob smiling.

This smile, this coldness and complete presence of mind, displeased Muse. She had hoped to see him succumb to her fascinations; but she had deceived herself, and this angered her against him and against herself. But the more difficult it was to inspire him with no matter what kind of love, the more she was determined to succeed.

"Very well. I believe you; but look at me, monsieur," said she lowering her voice. "Have I not changed? Hours of feverish anxiety for you are graven on my face."

These words were murmured in his ear, and were scarcely intelligible.

"Truly, mademoiselle," replied Jacob, "I feel myself unworthy of such anxiety on your part."

"No; you are not worthy of a sentiment that you have awakened without even deigning to perceive it. You are so indifferent, so cold." Then, as if she had said too much, she lowered her eyes and was silent.

Jacob felt sorry for her, and leaning towards her he kissed her hand. Muse started as if he had applied a hot iron, trembled violently, und buried her head in the sofa-pillow.

Then for the first the thought that Muse loved him struck Jacob. To have allowed such a sentiment to develop seemed to him a great crime. He was as horrified with himself as if his conduct had been that of a libertine. He started from his seat and looked at her. This sudden agitation could be interpreted in different ways. Muse did not prolong the scene, for even if the desired end was not completely attained, she hoped much for the future in the silence and troubled mien of the young man.

"Go, monsieur!" said she. "I am ill. I do not know what I have said. My head is confused."

Jacob hesitated a moment, looked at her pale face, saluted her respectfully, and went out. He had hardly closed the door behind him when the mother entered.

"Very well, what has happened?" asked she.

"He is stupid, very stupid," replied the adorable Emusia, shrugging her shoulders. "He is a fool, but I will conquer him yet."

"I fear, on the contrary, that he is not enough of a fool for us," replied Madame Wtorkowska.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE JEWS IN COUNCIL.

A great number of the most influential Israelites assembled at Mann's house on the following day. Mann, who was already proud of being considered the chief of the Israelites of Warsaw, was delighted to preside at a meeting of so much importance.

"Mann," whispered Father Simon to Bartold, "this poor Mann, resembles this morning a bladder; look out, for he may burst."

"And even if he does, with what are we threatened? A little wind, and nothing else," replied Bartold laughing.

This vain personage had really assumed a very pompous manner. He looked around him from the height of his grandeur, and from time to time put his hand on his empty head. Seated on a sofa which he occupied alone, he opened the meeting majestically.

"Messieurs," he said, "we have met here to discuss future events, for the situation is complicated. What, then, should be our rôle? That is the question submitted to you. We have always been united; I hope it will now be shown that we have not changed."

"Excuse me," said Simon. "But I vote a distribution of cigars before the important debate."

"Have done with your jests," said Mann in a firm voice, handing him a cigar. "This is no laughing matter; the times are grave and serious? What attitude shall we take toward the nobles? What will they do now, after this affair of last night?"

"The nobles will do nothing at all. They will dispute, argue, vociferate, and threaten, and the result of their consultation will be nothing," said the incorrigible Simon.

"Yes, that is usually the way; but this time they are forced to take action. I will add that the nobles have almost always been hostile to our race, and have often offended us by denying us justice."

"The nobility will always be the nobility," replied Simon to the chairman, in spite of his efforts to silence him. "They look on us as their stewards, their brokers, their innkeepers. They accuse us of exhaling garlic wherever we go. But they are not at heart our enemies. Let us speak of the other side of the matter, for, messieurs, the nobles dream only of sacrificing themselves for their beloved Poland; we do not enter into their calculations in that regard, and is it not our own fault?"

"The revolution is imminent," said Mann.

"It is possible," observed Bartold. "But I believe the nobles would like to draw out of this affair, in which the middle class are so active, and into which they seek to draw us."

"Then we must let ourselves be drawn in," said Jacob, "in order to become worthy citizens of the country that has received us when we were outcasts."

"Jacob always returns to this refrain; we know his theories, but at present we are occupied with practical things. What interest have we in the past?" said Mann.

"Our first interest," replied Jacob, "in a country where we are so numerous is to be admitted to a footing of equality. The opportunity now presents itself; let us profit by it; let us unite with the middle class."

"Nothing is so alluring as a sham compact at the outset, but afterward there are sure to be mutual recriminations and quarrels," said Simon.

"Take a cigar to close your lips!" cried the chairman, who was weary of the sentimentalism of the one and the everlasting jests of the other.

"I will give you a second cigar, if you will be silent," added another.

"I repeat my question," said Mann solemnly. "What rôle ought we to play at present,--we Jews?"

"Excuse me," said a stranger. "There are no Jews here. We are all Poles, of the religion of Moses."

A hearty applause showed approval of this expression uttered for the first time.

"If this view is adopted it solves the question," said Jacob.

"Pardon," replied Mann, "a thousand pardons. This phrase does not decide whether we will make common cause with the nobles, who do not wish a premature revolution, or with the bourgeoisie, who are the promoters of this movement."

"That's the chief point," cried Simon, always eager to give his advice. "I vote for the nobles; by going with them we may succeed in obtaining crests. I am very anxious to stamp on my seal three onions on a field of gold."

"Cursed babbler!" cried Mann, striking the table with his fist. "Will you keep silent or not?"

"I will shut up," said Simon.

"Let us be serious," replied Bartold. "Monsieur Mann has put the question well."

"I do not think so," said Jacob. "To take sides with this party or that is all that we should have to decide. The question is altogether different for me. Here it is: What is the better part for us to take in the interest of Poland, our adopted country?"

"Listen to me," cried Henri Segel. "We should be blind, indeed, not to see that, if we join in a revolution lost in advance, it would mean as certain ruin to us as to the rest of the country."

A small man with a consumptive look gazed around him, coughed, and let fall, drop by drop, these words:--

"We have been long enough held in contempt and subjection. The time has arrived to come out of it. Let us think of ourselves only. The peasant does not like us, because he is stupid, and we do not inspire him with fear. The nobles detest us and continually humiliate us. They will take part in the rebellion; if they find it inevitable, they will consider it a point of honour. The Russian government hates them, and will take advantage of the opportunity to confiscate their estates and drive them into exile. If we can be neutral during the crisis, what a prospect opens before us! In every nation, whatever be the form of government, be always on the side of the governing class. We are prepared to seize a high position. We will become the masters of the country."

"This idea," said Jacob, "has been often advanced, and is nothing new. But there is one objection: we shall save everything but honour. The fact of having been sheltered from all danger will condemn us. The nobility will not entirely disappear; many will remain. Russia, too, has her own revolutionists, who may overthrow her in a few years."

"Yes, before many years," replied the little man dryly; "if we do not make ourselves masters here, we are not worth a farthing. Already we dominate more than half of Europe in money matters, and the German press is largely at our service. France, also, has not escaped our influence. Warsaw is called our capital, a new Jerusalem."

"My dear sir," said Jacob, "your prophecy is not yet ready to be realized. We shall not attain our end by egotism. It would be much better to seal our fraternity with Poland, and by a sincere devotion gain her esteem by proving that the people of Israel are a noble people, that they will not abase themselves by taking sides with the strong or the oppressors. Never has the calculation of knavery been preferable to that of honesty."

"What is that you are saying there?" interrupted Simon. "The Jew has always been a trickster, and will do well to remain such."

"No, no!" replied Jacob warmly. "If servitude has taught us deceit and falsehood, is it any reason why we should persevere in it, now that our heavy chains are broken and the way is open to us? Let us march with the right, our heritage during thousands of years. The glory of Israel is very dear to me, but I rely above all on the laws of God and the justice of our cause. Let us prove that we are worthy of being called the 'chosen people of God.' There lies our grandeur, we do not need to seek another."

"Fine words," said Mann. "And why shall we not exult over the defeat of our enemies? They have kept us long enough in the mud at the gates of their palaces; why should we not be glad to see them in their turn humbled before us?"

"We reproach the pagans with love of revenge, and now do we wish to imitate them? Our faith has been accused of inculcating that ignoble sentiment; while, on the contrary, the Christians preach forgiveness to enemies and laud it as a virtue."

"Virtue," said Mann, "is an excellent thing in private life, but when the welfare of a nation or a community is threatened, it is not expected that we should adhere strictly to virtue."

"An old and pernicious prejudice. The magicians recommend the use of a soup made from the fat of corpses in order to attain happiness in life, and politicians of the old school preach villany in the interest of the public good. It is an error: a nation is never saved by evil."

"You are eloquent, Jacob; but you generalize too much. You forget that the right of conversation is open to all. I refer you to the Talmud, which you quote so often."

"The hour for the Bourse draws nigh, and we have decided nothing," cried another.

"That which is difficult," said Bartold, "is to decide, with the meagre information we possess. One cannot foresee how things will turn out. We must wait. I wish, like Jacob, to follow the right, but on condition that it does not lead to a precipice; I admit the necessity of sacrifices when something is gained thereby, but I do not approve of useless sacrifices."

"All sacrifice bears its fruit sooner or later," replied Jacob.

"You return to your mysticisms. Our debate is ended."

"Result: nothing, as usual," concluded Simon.

"One word more," said Mann. "It has been said that we cannot foresee how events will terminate. Some one of us should seek admittance to the revolutionary meetings and observe what is going on; that may enlighten us. Prudence dictates this precaution. Jacob, will you undertake it?"

"No, Monsieur Mann. I am not a revolutionist, and I refuse to lend myself to the rôle of a spy even for our cause."

"What delicate susceptibility! We will send some one in your place."

Mann sputtered wrathfully, and continued:--

"Thus we shall be informed of the actions of the revolutionary party, and if anything important occurs, my house is always at your service for meetings."

"The Bourse, the Bourse; it is the hour!" cried several voices. And they all hastened away.

CHAPTER XVII.

REUNION OF THE NOBLES.

Jacob, impressed by Gromof's words, sought an interview with Kruder or Ivas. The first was out, and the second he could not find. Returning from his search he learned that the people were assembled for the funerals of the previous night's victims. An irresistible impulse seized him, and he arrived, he hardly knew how, at the spot where the five victims had fallen. The place, after the murder, had been completely deserted. In the souls of the people surged an exaltation, a virility, a confidence which only demanded a signal of authority to become a revolution. They had lacked arms, but they had torn them from the Russian troops.

Soldiers and officers seemed ashamed of the attack. The government itself, after so cold-blooded an act, hesitated. Orders were received from Petersburg to display a pitiless firmness, but they dared not execute them. It almost seemed as if remorse had overtaken the representatives of the Czar at Warsaw. Was it really remorse? No, it was rather a ruse.

Clubs gathered in the open air and met everywhere without being disturbed by the police. For the first time in Poland they enjoyed under Muscovite rule a semblance of liberty. The capital was under the control of its inhabitants; in the circle of commerce delegates were chosen, whose duty was to present to Prince Gortchakof, Namiestnik of the kingdom, the will of the people. This removal of the yoke of the oppressor lasted for several days,--from March to April. Sad as its beginning had been, the nation breathed; she was free for the moment.

Those who took part in the deeds of these days guard them in their memory as the most memorable episode of their lives. I doubt if it has ever been given a man to see twice, anything as imposing.

Jacob walked about the city, his heart filled with sweet emotions; a single thought occupied him, that of the fusion of the Israelites with the rest of the nation. The hour was propitious, the moment was decisive. In spite of little sympathy for Mann, he realized that he could undertake nothing without his influence. Mann had not been chosen a delegate, for the Jews were represented to their satisfaction in the person of the wealthy and honourable Matthieu Rosen, a man of rare merit. He urged his people and their rabbis to join in the patriotic movement, for by that means they would share in a union of sentiments and aspirations with the Christian population and their clergy. A similar union had occurred in 1848, at Cracow. At that time the coffins of the massacred Jews were stationed before the church of Sainte Marie. At present they must guard against the pride and fanaticism of the Christians on one side, and the narrow-minded selfishness of the Jews on the other. Jacob hastened to consult Mann on this subject, but found him absent. But the young man's wishes, expressed at the late council of his brethren, were soon realized by an administrative decree.

Jacob went to see the delegates, who in the silence of the night were occupied arranging for the funerals. They had at this time all authority concentrated in their hands. The Jew foresaw how fleeting this authority would be. These men were honest, but without the energy required for such a crisis, and they would in a short time lose their wits and abdicate the popular sovereignty confided to their keeping.

The funeral details were arranged. Even the most intolerant of the Christians felt the necessity, in spite of their prejudices, of uniting for the time being with the Jews in perfect fraternity. Jacob passed a sleepless night on one of the benches of the assembly room. At daybreak he again hastened to Mann's house. He found him a little irritated that the popular vote had preferred Rosen to himself, and he had retired like Achilles to his tent. The pompous old fellow was awake and already surrounded with visitors, although he had not finished his toilet. Booted, but in his shirt, he presented a laughable spectacle on account of his extreme corpulence. He, no doubt, noticed this himself, for he interrupted himself in the middle of a heated harangue, to which his visitors listened respectfully, to throw over his shoulders a cotton dressing-gown.

"Ah!" said he, "our friends the nobles have become, then, meek as lambs. It is they who first ask to embrace us. One sees that they know the proverb,--

It is for us to remember the other part of the verse:--

"The harmony is well established," said Bartold. "It is sincere; we must take advantage of it."

"No; it is not peace, it is only a truce. The Agricultural Society, representative of the nobles, continues to repulse us. Its secretary has sent Matthieu Rosen a letter, which leaves no doubt of their malevolence towards us. They wish, they say, that we should merit our right as citizens, as if we had not deserved that title since we were established on Polish soil. Feudalists, ultramontanes, fanatics, they desire war; let them go to the war, then. Let us not mix with them. Every one to his own interest."

Thus spake the fiery Achilles, Mann, whom Henri Segel tried to calm.

"You must admit, however," said he, "that Matthieu Rosen, though treated with little consideration by the secretary of the Agricultural Society, has been named a delegate. Let us strike while the iron is hot."

"From this iron there can only come new chains for us," said Mann. "They are incorrigible, these nobles, eaten up by pride of long descent. We shall have conciliations when Dumah has thrown them all into hell; not before."

"The Russian government agrees with you there," remarked Bartold; "but the nobility is capable of regeneration, of amending. They commence to understand their interests better, and if they hold out their hands to us, we should not refuse them."

"No! the nobles are blind!" cried Mann, in a loud voice. "Give up all thoughts of alliance with them. What matters it to us what happens to them?"

"If we keep aloof now," said Jacob, "it is the same as taking sides with the Russians. Let us go, my friends; when we are called in the spirit of sacrifice, the cause of the weak and the oppressed ought to be ours."

"It is utterly useless to reason with you, dear Jacob. Men of your stamp go to their ruin and perish. I will not oppose you, though I deplore your fate. As for the mass of our people, they should look out for their own interests and for the country."

"Let the majority remain conservative, but not for that alone; they should escape death in order to console and succour those who survive the catastrophe."

"There will be time enough to speak of that," said Mann, with a disdainful gesture.

"It is probable," replied Bartold, "that the burial of the victims of yesterday will be a European manifestation of the regeneration of Poland. Ought we to be indifferent lookers on? to take no part ostensibly in the procession? in a word, to wash our hands of it all?"

"This burial does not concern us," cried Mann. "None of our people have been killed. Why should we thrust ourselves into the quarrel?"

"It is not merely a burial, it is a grand political manifestation," said Jacob. "Before those coffins there will be a national appeal for vengeance against the assassins; and we"--

"We? Let it suffice us to behold from afar that manifestation! And you, Jacob, who preach with so much warmth a good understanding with the Christians, as you are at the same time a fervent and orthodox Jew, you cannot ask us to march behind the coffins, side by side with the Christian clergy. That would be breaking one of our laws, which commands all kohen to keep at a distance from bodies of the dead. How much worse the impure corpses of men of another belief, another race."

"I know well that the kohenin ought to abandon even their dying wives, if they are not of Jewish origin. Their contact becomes impure. But I also know that the law, formerly so vigorous, and not without a wise motive, is indulgent under exceptional circumstances. A kohen who, in order to accomplish a good deed, touches a corpse is, according to the conclusion of all rabbis, exempt from sin."

"I do not think that can be the opinion of all the rabbis. However, we can easily ascertain."

By a strange coincidence, the door opened and admitted a dignified old man with a long white beard, clad in the ancient costume of a Polish Jew. All saluted him respectfully. He was a rabbi, generally esteemed for his learning and his honourable and upright character. His face denoted the serenity of a soul untroubled by terrestrial cares.

Mann hastened to repeat what he had said to Jacob, and, wishing above all to have the approbation of the rabbi for his doctrine of hatred and vengeance, he added:--

"Ought we to forgive the nobles? Ought we to overlook the evils done us by them? The justice of God is implacable, and the hour approaches when we shall be avenged upon our secular oppressors."

The old man listened attentively, then replied slowly and solemnly:--

"The Rabbi Ichochua ben Levi had for a neighbour a Sadducee, who had insulted him in many ways. Weary of enduring these affronts, he resolved to pray to God for vengeance. As he was preparing to go to the temple to accomplish his design, he was overcome by a profound slumber. On awakening, he said: 'The sweet sleep into which God plunged me so suddenly is a warning from on high; a just man never invokes divine vengeance against his enemies.'"

Then the venerable man arose, bowed, and went out. Mann shrugged his shoulders, and was silent. His guests, most of whom were not very devout, took their hats, considering the question decided by the text of the law. In the Talmud, as in books of a character still more sacred, each interprets as he wishes. The passage proved Jacob in the right, but could have been perhaps contradicted by another passage which would put him in the wrong. Mann, fortunately, was not sufficiently familiar with the literature of Judaism to recall a text adapted to his argument. Jacob, triumphant, rapidly followed the rabbi, and kissed his hand with gratitude.

He returned to the city, where he found that there had been a change in favour of the Jews. Their adversaries were silent, and public opinion approved their admittance on a fraternal footing, although the nobles still opposed it. Twenty-four hours had sufficed not to efface, but to mask, the prejudices of both parties,--prejudices of which they were ashamed, and which they concealed in an obscure corner of the soul and dared no longer show in daylight.

The nobles were not in perfect harmony even with each other. Like the Jews, they held diverse opinions. Those among them who were the most obstinate were those who were not well informed as to the actual situation, who had learned nothing, forgotten nothing, and who had intrenched themselves in an exclusive adherence and devotion to the past. These were called on the streets ultramontanes, on account of their importation of foreign Catholicism,--a Catholicism which was monarchical and legitimist, an enemy of progress. Essentially different was it from Polish Catholicism, which was conciliatory toward republican ideas, but did not take sides with either party, and, with Copernicus, had left its luminous traces in the ascendant march of humanity.

This group was Polish in its own way, perhaps by its attachment to the privileges of the nobility; but it was by no means patriotic in its alliance in heart or spirit with the political reaction in Europe, which weighed so heavily on Poland.

It was not easy to be conservative in Poland. It was to condemn one's self to incessant contradictions of conscience and of conduct. How can one be at the same time a patriot, and submit to a foreign yoke? to be a Catholic, and prostrate one's self before a foreign authority which persecuted Catholicism? Weary of conflict, the conservative finishes by thinking only of saving his fortune and his social position, and pays no attention to the rest.

Jacob, in wandering over the city from house to house, with the familiarity which always prevails in times of revolution, entered a circle of ultramontanes. The master of the house, who was seated in an easy-chair, which he never quitted on account of an incurable malady, had still more nerve and energy than most of the visitors assembled in his rooms. Here were genuine counts, specimens of the ancient aristocracy of orthodox Catholicism, and many young nobles fresh from the Jesuit colleges of Belgium and Bavaria. Among all these the most remarkable was a man of gigantic height, of irreproachable character, of rare eloquence, who, on account of his habit of repeating the popular proverb, Jak Boga Kocham (as true as that I love God), had received the not very euphonious sobriquet of Boakoam.

He was a descendant of a very aristocratic family, deprived of its former splendour by the prodigality of its ancestors. He lived ordinarily in the country on a small estate, all that remained of his fortune.

The conversation was on the events of the day, and the social equality accorded to the Israelites.

"In a hundred years," said Boakoam, "the Counts Z., P., and B. will have become coachmen, and their palaces will have passed into the hands of the R.'s, the K.'s, and the E.'s."

"It is possible," replied the master of the house, who belonged to one of the families designated; "above all, if we make many more false steps like this one. It will be our own fault. We shall foolishly ruin ourselves. We have an aversion to work, while the Jews are economical, laborious, and persevering."

"Thus, that the Jews may not devour us, my dear count, you wish we may be transformed into Jews. Pretty advice! If we must perish, let us perish at least as we are. Experience has demonstrated to us our inaptitude as financiers. To what end have come our navigation companies, or our industrial or commercial associations? We have lost money on all our undertakings. Distasteful as it is to admit, I must confess that we have arrived at a point of irresistible decadence. We have organic vices, we have attained the height of moral weakness. I would, nevertheless, like to believe that we shall yet regain our old-time vigour."

"To rise again," said a country gentleman, "we must have several chiefs, several guides in whom we can place confidence, as in you, Monsieur le Comte."

"You could not have a better chief than Count André Zamoyski, whose name is on every lip. Virtue, reason, grandeur of soul, patriotism, all these qualities he possesses."

"Certainly Count André is the right man, he is honourable and worthy; but let us talk no more of politics just now," said Boakoam.

"God preserve us from this mania of politics, unreasonable and inopportune! We can gain nothing by it, and it has already been the cause of many evils. True politics are agriculture, science, economy, and the amelioration of morals."

"You are right, Monsieur le Comte," said a listener. "But what is to be done when, in spite of ourselves, the youth and the city rise in arms and draw us in?"

"Youth has courage and action. Imitate them. If you do not wish a revolution, proclaim it loudly; not in any half way. I understand perfectly the blind but heroic ardour of these young men who offer their blood for their country. It is necessary that we have equal energy to arrest this patriotic uprising, that we do not give them encouragement by our inertia, our weakness."

"Then we are lost," cried a voice.

"Oh, not when we have just concluded an alliance with the Jews!" replied Boakoam. "The Jews will certainly save us."

This pleasantry caused a ripple of laughter.

"That which is certain," gravely replied the invalid, "is that they have more sense than we. They have proved it."

"They will not lend us their good sense as they have loaned us their money," remarked Boakoam. "They know that it is a capital which we lack, and on which we could not pay them interest."

"Where is the time when we did not know the Jews save as stewards and brokers! One could then pluck the extortioner by the beard."

"Those times, alas! will never return," said one of the company in a sad voice.

"The world is degenerating," added another.

"Have you remarked, gentlemen," said a solemn personage with black hair and the Oriental type, "that everything is being gradually monopolized by the Israelites? They are the masters of the Bourse. Now the Bourse directs the world and governs the State. Without it, no loans and no wars. They manage public opinion through the press, the principal organs of which belong to them. In Prussia, in the rest of Germany, and in Belgium, journalism is in their hands. In France every newspaper has one or more Jews connected with it. Many have seats in Parliament and the German Reichstag. Some are ministers or ambassadors."

"The reason is easily to be seen," replied Boakoam. "The Polish nobles could not exist without Jewish factors, and took them everywhere with them on their travels. Europe is like us, morally and physically declined; the governments are in decadence, and the factors do as they like."

"French masonry," added the country gentleman, "and democracy have the Jews for their firm supporters."

"But that does not agree with the Bourse, whose principals are far from revolutionary," objected some one.

"They are," replied the gentleman, "both liberals and conservatives, but only in a measure. Liberals when they wish to undermine Catholicism, and conservatives when they have other ends to serve; but when it is a question of war, they are always conservatives, for they do not wish war at any price."

"Never," said Boakoam, "shall we be able to get rid of the Jews, and they will yet ruin us."

"If one is ruined it is usually his own fault," replied his friend.

"True. But how can we change now? We, who are accustomed to a life of ease and to liberty of action, is it possible for us to become tradesmen? The Jews understand business, have money, skill, and avarice. And we? Nothing!"

"Let us try to acquire these qualities."

"How can we? The government oppresses us and seeks to crush us out of existence. We are weakened by this cruel oppression; where can we find strength for the struggle?"

"In a sentiment of duty."

"Too late to lift the burden now. I know not if the Finis Poloniae will be accomplished, but the end of the Polish nobility is certain. I am afraid that we are doomed."

"Listen to me, messieurs," said the master of the house solemnly. "I have not long to live. Every day death draws nearer to me, as you perceive. As the time to leave the world approaches, a man does not lie. Well, on the border of the tomb I adjure you not to lose faith in yourselves, for you who prophesy your own fall are the ones who hasten it. What have the nobles done since 1791? Where are their labours, their efforts, their sacrifices? Behold them unbalanced, their fortunes, activity, existence, entirely and foolishly dissipated in libertinage and idleness. Immutable laws regulate everything in nature. Once withered, the leaf falls; once unfaithful to its mission, every class of society is condemned to disappear. If, as you predict, the Jews are destined to supersede us, it will be owing to our improvidence and their superior virtue."

"Frightful perspective!" cried the country gentleman piteously. "Do you say that my son may perhaps become steward for a Kronenberg or a Rosen?"

"Perhaps he would be lucky to get that position. If I were a Kronenberg or a Rosen I would not think of employing so incapable a steward as your son."

Boakoam put an end to the conversation by this sally, which was a little brutal. Jacob, unable to contain himself longer, believed it a duty to reveal his identity.

"Messieurs," said he, "pardon me for interrupting this discussion, but I feel it my duty to confess that I am a Jew."

All eyes were turned toward him in astonishment. The least surprised was Boakoam and their host. The former burst out laughing, and cried:--

"In that case, my dear sir, you have heard many curious things about your race."

"Very curious, and I shall profit by them. As for your pleasantries, they have not wounded me. I could form some idea of how you spoke of us, by the way that we speak of you at our meetings. For compensation, you have finished by praising our qualities in such a manner as to make me very grateful. But your praises are more than we deserve. If we possess some good qualities, we have also many faults, and I ought to acknowledge them. This alliance with us seems repugnant to you; but, believe me, it will be for your advantage in the end. It is repugnant to you because, as some one here has said, we smell of garlic and old clothes; but just now you cannot have too many friends and allies."

"As true as I love God," cried Boakoam, "your morals are golden. But I do not believe that we can trust in your friendship. You will be with us as long as we are standing, but you will go over to the enemy when we fall. You will then feel only contempt for us, and the thirst for vengeance will awaken in your hearts."

"Never! I promise it in my name, and in the names of those who think as I do. We will remain united in misfortune as in fortune."

"So as to profit equally by our success or our misfortunes? I am frank, and now that we are on this subject, permit me to finish. I am ready to acknowledge my fault, to avow all the vices and all the errors imputed to the nobles, but I cannot see that your rich men are any better. You accuse us of foolish vanity and aristocratic pride; your bankers have as much. The Count André, who comes from a long line of illustrious ancestors, is much more polite, more affable, more simple, than"--

"I do not deny it. Money often renders men impertinent. I have only one excuse to offer for my co-religionists: it is, that repulsed by the elegant society, overwhelmed with sarcasm, we have not had the opportunity to profit by the same schooling as yourselves. You must civilize us by your good examples."

"Hear! Hear!" cried Boakoam. "We will teach you our refined manners in return for your practical spirit."

"I consent," replied Jacob smiling. "One word more: you have alluded to some of us as rude and having repulsive manners. Very well; even among these men, vain, proud, and gross, there are some who are benevolent; though their appearance does not indicate it. I have not finished. In the presence of the representatives of the past I know not whether I shall be permitted to express my ideas. Behold them, if you will be kind enough to listen. Humanity will not retrograde. She has ceased to be led by a privileged class; she feels her strength and will walk alone. The feudal privileges are dead, very dead."

"You avow, however," said the dark man with Oriental features, "that society, freed from privileges and belonging to itself, will still admit a certain division of classes."

"Yes; but admittance to these classes will be given by personal merit, and not by birth."

"Then we shall all be in the same boat," cried Boakoam laughing,--"peasants, Jews, gypsies, bourgeoisie, pell-mell with us the fine flower of the aristocracy."

"Modern theories, fatal doctrines born of revolutionary folly," remarked a pupil of the Jesuits, fresh from Belgium. "I believe neither in progress nor a new order of things. All that I see in this accursed age is the hand of God, which chastises us and plunges us into confusion and chaos."

Saying this the disciple of Loyola took his departure, furious. Many followed his example, while Jacob was making his final remarks thus:--

"We are new citizens, but rest assured that in recovering our rights of citizenship after so long ostracism we will not refuse the accompanying duties. If until the present the Jew has not considered himself a Pole, the fault has not been with him nor with Poland herself, but with the barbarity of past ages, to the shadows of a prolonged epoch of darkness. 'Light, light, still more light!' as said the dying Goethe, and the world will move on in the sight of God."

"As true as I love God," said Boakoam, "these are holy words. And I must save myself, for my confessor would refuse absolution because I had dealings with the Old Testament, in the absence of the New. Good-evening."