Part 58 (1/2)
”I should hope so,” put in Miss Cissy Levine, sharply. She was a pale, bent woman, with spectacles, who believed in the mission of Israel, and wrote domestic novels to prove that she had no sense of humor. ”No one has a right to foul his own nest. Are there not plenty of subjects for the Jew's pen without his attacking his own people? The calumniator of his race should be ostracized from decent society.”
”As according to him there is none,” laughed Graham, ”I cannot see where the punishment comes in.”
”Oh, he may say so in that book,” said Mrs. Montagu Samuels, an amiable, loose-thinking lady of florid complexion, who dabbled exasperatingly in her husband's philanthropic concerns from the vain idea that the wife of a committee-man is a committee-woman. ”But he knows better.”
”Yes, indeed,” said Mr. Montagu Samuels. ”The rascal has only written this to make money. He knows it's all exaggeration and distortion; but anything spicy pays now-a-days.”
”As a West Indian merchant he ought to know,” murmured Sidney Graham to his charming cousin, Adelaide Leon. The girl's soft eyes twinkled, as she surveyed the serious little city magnate with his placid spouse.
Montagu Samuels was narrow-minded and narrow-chested, and managed to be pompous on a meagre allowance of body. He was earnest and charitable (except in religious wrangles, when he was earnest and uncharitable), and knew himself a pillar of the community, an exemplar to the drones and sluggards who s.h.i.+rked their share of public burdens and were callous to the dazzlement of communal honors.
”Of course it was written for money, Monty,” his brother, Percy Saville, the stockbroker, reminded him. ”What else do authors write for? It's the way they earn their living.”
Strangers found difficulty in understanding the fraternal relation of Percy Saville and Montagu Samuels; and did not readily grasp that Percy Saville was an Anglican version of Pizer Samuels, more in tune with the handsome well-dressed personality it denoted. Montagu had stuck loyally to his colors, but Pizer had drooped under the burden of carrying his patronymic through the theatrical and artistic circles he favored after business hours. Of such is the brotherhood of Israel.
”The whole book's written with gall,” went on Percy Saville, emphatically. ”I suppose the man couldn't get into good Jewish houses, and he's revenged himself by slandering them.”
”Then he ought to have got into good Jewish houses,” said Sidney. ”The man has talent, n.o.body can deny that, and if he couldn't get into good Jewish society because he didn't have money enough, isn't that proof enough his picture is true?”
”I don't deny that there are people among us who make money the one open sesame to their houses,” said Mrs. Henry Goldsmith, magnanimously.
”Deny it, indeed? Money is the open sesame to everything,” rejoined Sidney Graham, delightedly scenting an opening for a screed. He liked to talk bomb-sh.e.l.ls, and did not often get pillars of the community to shatter. ”Money manages the schools and the charities, and the synagogues, and indirectly controls the press. A small body of persons--always the same--sits on all councils, on all boards! Why?
Because they pay the piper.”
”Well, sir, and is not that a good reason?” asked Montagu Samuels. ”The community is to be congratulated on having a few public-spirited men left in days when there are wealthy German Jews in our midst who not only disavow Judaism, but refuse to support its inst.i.tutions. But, Mr.
Graham, I would join issue with you. The men you allude to are elected not because they are rich, but because they are good men of business and most of the work to be done is financial.”
”Exactly,” said Sidney Graham, in sinister agreement. ”I have always maintained that the United Synagogue could be run as a joint-stock company for the sake of a dividend, and that there wouldn't be an atom of difference in the discussions if the councillors were directors. I do believe the pillars of the community figure the Millenium as a time when every Jew shall have enough to eat, a place to wors.h.i.+p in, and a place to be buried in. Their State Church is simply a financial system, to which the doctrines of Judaism happen to be tacked on. How many of the councillors believe in their Established Religion? Why, the very beadles of their synagogues are p.r.o.ne to surrept.i.tious shrimps and un.o.btrusive oysters! Then take that inst.i.tution for supplying _kosher_ meat. I am sure there are lots of its Committee who never inquire into the necrologies of their own chops and steaks, and who regard kitchen Judaism as obsolete. But, all the same, they look after the finances with almost fanatical zeal. Finance fascinates them. Long after Judaism has ceased to exist, excellent gentlemen will be found regulating its finances.”
There was that smile on the faces of the graver members of the party which arises from reluctance to take a dangerous speaker seriously.
Sidney Graham was one of those favorites of society who are allowed Touchstone's license. He had just as little wish to reform, and just as much wish to abuse society as society has to be reformed and abused. He was a dark, bright-eyed young artist with a silky moustache. He had lived much in Paris, where he studied impressionism and perfected his natural talent for _causerie_ and his inborn preference for the hedonistic view of life. Fortunately he had plenty of money, for he was a cousin of Raphael Leon on the mother's side, and the remotest twigs of the Leon genealogical tree bear apples of gold. His real name was Abrahams, which is a shade too Semitic. Sidney was the black sheep of the family; good-natured to the core and artistic to the finger-tips, he was an avowed infidel in a world where avowal is the unpardonable sin. He did not even pretend to fast on the Day of Atonement. Still Sidney Graham was a good deal talked of in artistic circles, his name was often in the newspapers, and so more orthodox people than Mrs. Henry Goldsmith were not averse from having him at their table, though they would have shrunk from being seen at his. Even cousin Addie, who had a charming religious cast of mind, liked to be with him, though she ascribed this to family piety. For there is a wonderful solidarity about many Jewish families, the richer members of which a.s.semble loyally at one another's births, marriages, funerals, and card-parties, often to the entire exclusion of outsiders. An ordinary well-regulated family (so prolific is the stream of life), will include in its bosom ample elements for every occasion.
”Really, Mr. Graham, I think you are wrong about the _kosher_ meat,”
said Mr. Henry Goldsmith. ”Our statistics show no falling-off in the number of bullocks killed, while there is a rise of two per cent, in the sheep slaughtered. No, Judaism is in a far more healthy condition than pessimists imagine. So far from sacrificing our ancient faith we are learning to see how tuberculosis lurks in the lungs of unexamined carca.s.ses and is communicated to the consumer. As for the members of the _Shechitah_ Board not eating _kosher_, look at me.”
The only person who looked at the host was the hostess. Her look was one of approval. It could not be of aesthetic approval, like the look Percy Saville devoted to herself, for her husband was a cadaverous little man with prominent ears and teeth.
”And if Mr. Graham should ever join us on the Council of the United Synagogue,” added Montagu Samuels, addressing the table generally, ”he will discover that there is no communal problem with which we do not loyally grapple.”
”No, thank you,” said Sidney, with a shudder. ”When I visit Raphael, I sometimes pick up a Jewish paper and amuse myself by reading the debates of your public bodies. I understand most of your verbiage is edited away.” He looked Montagu Samuels full in the face with audacious _navete_. ”But there is enough left to show that our monotonous group of public men consists of narrow-minded mediocrities. The chief public work they appear to do outside finance is when public exams, fall on Sabbaths or holidays, getting special dates for Jewish candidates to whom these examinations are the avenues to atheism. They never see the joke. How can they? Why, they take even themselves seriously.”
”Oh, come!” said Miss Cissy Levine indignantly. ”You often see 'laughter' in the reports.”
”That must mean the speaker was laughing,” explained Sidney, ”for you never see anything to make the audience laugh. I appeal to Mr. Montagu Samuels.”
”It is useless discussing a subject with a man who admittedly speaks without knowledge,” replied that gentleman with dignity.
”Well, how do you expect me to get the knowledge?” grumbled Sidney. ”You exclude the public from your gatherings. I suppose to prevent their rubbing shoulders with the swells, the privilege of being snubbed by whom is the reward of public service. Wonderfully practical idea that--to utilize sn.o.bbery as a communal force. The United Synagogue is founded on it. Your community coheres through it.”
”There you are scarcely fair,” said the hostess with a charming smile of reproof. ”Of course there are sn.o.bs amongst us, but is it not the same in all sects?”