The White Terror and The Red: A Novel of Revolutionary Russia

by Abraham Cahan

  CHAPTER XXXV.

  A HUNTED PEOPLE.

  It was Friday night at the Old Synagogue, but the cheery voices ofSabbath Eve were not there. The air of having cast one's cares aside wasmissing. Instead of a light-hearted turmoil of melody there was a hushedmurmur that betrayed suspense and timidity. Ever and anon someworshipper would break off his hymn and strain his ears for a fanciedsound outside. The half hour spent away from home seemed many hours.Very few people were present and none of these wore their Sabbathclothes. Most of the other synagogues were closed altogether. RabbiRachmiel, Clara's father, and several others were abandoned to anecstasy of devotion, but their subdued tones had in them the ferventplea of Atonement Day, the tearful plea for an enrolment in the Book ofLife rather than the joyous solemnity that proclaims the advent of theHigher Soul. The illumination in honour of Sabbath the Bride was a sorryspectacle. The jumble of brass chandeliers hung unburnished and most ofthem were empty. The synagogue had a troubled, a cowed look. It darednot shine brightly, nor burst into song merrily lest it should irritatethe Gentiles. Here and there a man sat at his prayer book weepingquietly.

  Members of the congregation who had not been on speaking terms for yearshad made peace, as a matter of course. The spreading frenzy of theGentile population impressed them as an impersonal, elemental force.They were clinging to each other with the taciturnity of ship-passengerswhen the vessel shudders in the grip of danger. And not only did theynestle to each other, but the entire present generation felt drawn toall the former generations of their hunted race. The terrors of theInquisition, the massacres, the exiles, the humiliations, of which oneusually thought as something belonging to the province of booksexclusively, had suddenly become realities. The Bloody Spot, the site ofthe present synagogue, where 800 Jews had been slain more than twocenturies ago, gleamed redder than ever in every mind. It was bothterrifying and a spiritual relief to beseech the souls of those eighthundred martyrs to pray for their panic-stricken descendants. TheRussian Jews of 1881 felt themselves a living continuation of the entiretearful history of their people.

  When the service was over, at last, the usual "Good Sabbath! GoodSabbath!" always so full of festivity, was uttered in lugubriouswhispers, which really meant: "May God take pity upon us." Nor was therea rush for the door. Quick, noisy movements were carefully avoided inthese days.

  Some of the worshippers had slowly filed out, when there was a stir, andthe crowd scrambled back with terrified faces.

  "Two Gentiles are coming, an army officer and a man in civilianclothes," said some of those who came running back.

  The look of terror gave way to one of eager curiosity. The appearance oftwo refined Gentiles was not the way an anti-Jewish riot was usuallyushered in.

  The "two Gentiles" turned out to be Dr. Lipnitzky and VladimirVigdoroff, the one in his military uniform, and the other in a summersuit of rough duck. When they were recognised they were greeted withlooks of affection and expectancy. The pious old-fashioned people whohad hitherto regarded Dr. Lipnitzky despairingly as more Gentile thanJew, now thought of him tenderly as an advocate of Israel in the enemy'scamp.

  "Don't be so scared," the little doctor said with friendly acerbity, ashe paused in the centre of the synagogue. "We are Jews likeyourselves--the same kind of Jews all of us. We were passing by, so wethought we would look in. We saw the synagogue was almost dark, thoughit is still so early. The lights could not yet have gone out. It'senough to break one's heart." He was choking with embarrassment andemotion and his words produced a profound effect. People of his classwere not in the habit of attending divine service. The doctor's militaryuniform, in fact, had never been seen in a synagogue before. But thegreat point was that instead of Russian or Germanised Yiddish which hehabitually affected with uneducated Jews he was now speaking in theplain, unembellished vernacular of the Ghetto. His listeners knew thathe was the son of a poor illiterate brick-maker, a plain "Yiddish Jew"like themselves, yet they could scarcely trust their ears. They eyed hisshoulder-straps and sword-hilt, and it seemed incredible that the manwho wore these things was the man who was speaking this fluent, robustYiddish. His halo of inaccessible superiority had suddenly faded away.Everybody warmed to him.

  "We'll be here to-morrow, we'll attend the service. And next Saturday,too. Every Saturday. We're Jews." He could not go on. Some of hislisteners had tears in their eyes. Vladimir was biting his lipsnervously.

  "Still, it is not to see you cry that we have come to you," the doctorresumed: but he was interrupted by Clara's father, who, advancing towardhim with glaring eyes, said, in a voice shrill with rage:

  "Now that Jewish blood is flowing in rivers you people come to dopenance! It is too late. It is the sins of men like yourselves that havebrought this punishment upon us. A Gentile Jew is even worse than a bornGentile." He put up his fists to his temples and gasped: "Better becomeChristians! Better become Christians!"

  The crowd had listened with bated breath, but at last somebody said: "Ohshut up!" and similar shouts burst from forty or fifty other men.

  "We are all Jews, all brethren."

  "We'll settle old scores some other time."

  "A good heart is as good as piety."

  "Yes, but why don't you give the doctor a chance to speak?" Vladimirstepped up to his uncle and pleaded with him.

  "Who is he?" said Dr. Lipnitzky with a smile. "Is he crazy?" And flyinginto a passion, he was about to address Rabbi Rachmiel, but held himselfin check. A feeble old man of eighty with a very white beard was arguingfrom the Talmud with Clara's father.

  "'The sinner who returns to God may stand upon ground upon which therighteous are not allowed to stand,'" he quoted. "Again, 'Throughpenance even one's sins are turned to good deeds.'"

  When Rabbi Rachmiel tried to reply, he was shouted down by the crowd.They were yelling and gesticulating at him, when somebody mounted abench and fell to swishing his arms violently. "Hush!" he said in aferocious whisper. "Do you want to attract a mob?" His words had animmediate effect, and then Rabbi Rachmiel said to his nephew, in muchmilder but deeply grieved accents:

  "Do you know what the Talmud says? 'As long as you shall do the will ofGod no strange people shall domineer over you, but if you don't do thewill of God, God will hand you over to a low people, and not merely to alow people, but to the beasts of a low people.'"

  "All right, rabbi. This is not the time for argument," the doctor said,kindly. "I have some important information for you all, for all of us.There won't be any rioting in this town. You may be sure of it. That'swhat my young friend and I have dropped in to tell you. I have seen thegovernor"--his listeners pressed eagerly forward--"there will be plentyof protection. The main point is that you should not tempt the Gentilesto start a riot by showing them that you dread one. Don't hide, nor keepyour shops closed, as that would only whet one's appetite for mischief.Do you understand what I say to you? This is the governor's opinion andmine too. Everybody's."

  His auditors nodded vigorous and beaming assent.

  "He particularly warns the Jews not to undertake anything in the way ofself-defence. That would only arouse ill-feeling. Besides, it's againstthe law. It could not be tolerated. Do you understand what I am sayingor do you not? Every precaution has been taken and there is really nodanger. Do you understand? There is no danger, and if you go about yourbusiness and make no fuss it will be all right. I have spoken to severalofficers of my regiment, too. Of course, you wouldn't have to look hardto find a Jew-hater among them, but they spoke in a friendly way andsome of them are really good-natured fellows. They assured me that ifthe troops were called out they would protect our people with all theirhearts."

  Every man in the group looked like a prisoner when the jury announces anacquittal. Some, in a flutter of joy, hastened to carry the news totheir wives and children. The majority hung about the uniformed man, asif ready to stay all night in his salutary presence, while one man evenventured to say quite familiarly: "May you live long for this, doctor.Why, you have put new soul
s into us." Whereupon he was told by anotherman, through clenched teeth, that it was just like him to push himselfforward.

  Each man had his own tale of woe to tell, his own questions to ask. Oneman, whose appearance and manner indicated that he was a tin-smith, hada son at the gymnasium and a Gentile neighbour whose wife became greenwith envy as often as she saw the Jewish boy in his handsome uniform.She was much better off than the tin-smith yet her children werereceiving no education.

  "But why should you pay any attention to her?" Dr. Lipnitzky asked.

  "I don't, but my wife does. You know how women are, doctor. They takeeverything hard. Last week the Gentile woman said aloud that it wasimpudent on the part of Jews to dress their boys up in gymnasiumuniforms, as if they were noblemen, and that it was time Miroslav didlike all God-fearing towns and started a riot against the Jews. So mywife is afraid to let the boy wear the uniform, and I think she isright, too. Let the eyes of that Gentile woman creep out of theirsockets without looking at the child's uniform. It is vacation timeanyhow. But the boy, he cried all day and made a rumpus and said theschool authorities would punish him if he was seen in the street withouthis uniform. Is it true, doctor? I am only an ignorant workman. What doI know?"

  "Yes, it is true, and tell your wife not to mind that woman," answeredDr. Lipnitzky, exchanging a woebegone look with Vladimir.

  "I have some goods lying at the railroad station for me," said a littleman with a puckered forehead. "It has been there about a month. 'Shall Itake it to the shop so that the rioters may have some more goods topillage?' I thought to myself. Would you really advise me to receive it,doctor?"

  Dr. Lipnitzky took fire. "Do you want me to sign a guarantee for it?" hesaid. "Do you want me to be responsible for the goods? You people are anawful lot."

  "I was merely asking your advice, doctor," the man with the puckeredforehead answered, wretchedly. "You can't do much business these days,anyhow. The best Gentiles won't pay. One has nothing but a book full ofdebts. Besides, when the door flies open one's soul sinks. And when aGentile customer comes in you pray God that he may leave your shop assoon as possible. For who knows but his visit may be a put-up job andthat all he wants is to pick a quarrel as a signal for a lot of otherrowdies to break in?"

  "And the Gentile sees your cowardice," the doctor cut in with an effectof continuing the man's story, "and becomes arrogant, and this is theway a riot is hatched." By degrees he resumed his superior manner andhis Germanised Yiddish, but his tone remained warm.

  "Arrogant!" said a tall, stooped, neatly-dressed jeweller. "You havetold us of some honest officers, doctor. Well, the other day an armyofficer came into my place with a lady. He selected a ring for her, andwhen I said it was forty rubles, he made no answer, but sent the ladyaway with the ring, and then--you should have seen him break out at me.I had put him to shame before a lady, he said. He was good for fortytimes forty dollars, and all the Jews were a lot of cut-throats andblood-suckers; that all we were good for was to ask officers to protectus against rioters, and that my shop was made up of ill-gotten wealthanyhow. I had never seen the man before and I insisted upon being paid;but he made such a noise, I was afraid a crowd might gather. So I lethim go, but I sent out my salesman after him and he found out his name.Then I went before his colonel" (the jeweller named the regiment), "butwhat do you think the colonel said: 'He's a nice fellow. I shall neverbelieve it of him. And if he owes you some money, he'll pay you. At atime like this you Jews oughtn't to press your claims too hard.' That'swhat the colonel said."

  When a shabby cap-maker with thick bloodless lips told how he had let arough-looking Gentile leave his shop in a new cap without paying for it,the doctor flew into a passion.

  "Why did you? Why did you?" he growled, stamping his feet, just as hewould when the relatives of a patient neglected to comply with hisorders. "It is just like you people. I would have you flayed for this."

  This only encouraged the cap-maker to go into the humour of the episode.

  "I was poking around the market place, with a high pile of caps oneither hand," he said, "when I saw a Gentile with a face like a carrotcovered full of warts. 'Aren't you ashamed to wear such a cap?' says I.'Aren't you ashamed to spoil a handsome face like yours by that rusty,horrid old thing on your head?'"

  "Oh, I would have you spanked," the little doctor snarled smilingly.Whereupon several of the bystanders also smiled.

  "Hold on, doctor. I spanked myself. Well, the Gentile was not hard topersuade, though when we got at my place he was rather hard to please.He kept me plucking caps from the ceiling until the very pole in my handgot tired of the job. At last he was suited. I thought he would ask howmuch. He didn't. He did say something, but that was about anti-Jewishriots. 'This cap will do,' he then said, 'Good-bye old man,' and madefor the door. And when I rushed after him and asked for the money heturned on me and stuck the biggest fig[D] you ever saw into my face.Since then when I see the good looks of a Gentile spoiled by a horridold cap I try not to take it to heart."

  [D] A sign of contempt and defiance consisting in the thumb being put between the next two fingers.

  The doctor laughed. "And you let him go without paying?" he asked.

  "I should say I did. I was glad he didn't ask for the change."

  Another man confessed to having had an experience of this kind, acustomer having exacted from him change from a ruble which he had neverpaid him.

  "He was a tough looking customer, and he made a rumpus, so I thought tomyself, 'Is this the first time I have been out of some cash? Let him gohang himself.' And the scoundrel, he gave me a laugh, called me accursedJew into the bargain and went his way."

  "Did you ask him to call again?" the cap-maker demanded, and noticingClara's father by his side, he added: "This is not the way RabbiRachmiel's wife does business, is it? She would make him pay her thedollar and the change, too."

  The doctor burst into laughter, the others echoing it noisily. OnlyVladimir's face wore a look of restless gravity. It was the restlessnessof a man who is trying to nerve himself up to a first public speech. Hisheart was full of something which he was aching to say to these people,to unburden himself of, but his courage failed him to take the word.Presently a man too timid to seek information in the centre of theassembly addressed a whispered inquiry to Vladimir and Vladimir's answerattracted the attention of two or three bystanders. Gradually a littlecolony branched off from the main body. He was telling them what he knewfrom the newspapers about the latest anti-Jewish outbreaks in varioustowns; and speaking in a very low voice and in the simplestconversational accents, he gradually passed to what weighed on hisheart. He knew Yiddish very well indeed, yet he had considerabledifficulty in speaking it, his chief impediment lying in his inabilityto render the cultured language in which he thought into primitivespeech. His Yiddish was full of Russian and German therefore, but someof his listeners understood it all, while the rest missed but anoccasional phrase.

  "People like myself--those who have studied at the gymnasia anduniversities"--he went on in a brooding, plaintive undertone, "feel themisery of it all the more keenly because we have been foolish enough toimagine ourselves Russians, and to keep aloof from our own people. Manyof us feel like apologising to every poor suffering Jew in Russia, tobeg his forgiveness, to implore him to take us back. We were ashamed tospeak Yiddish. We thought we were Russians. We speak the language ofthe Gentiles, and we love it so dearly; we have adopted their ways andcustoms; we love their literature; everything Russian is so dear to us;why should it not be? Is not this our birthplace? But the more we loveit, the more we try to be like Russians, the more they hate us. Myuncle, Rabbi Rachmiel, says it is too late to do penance. Well, I dofeel like a man who comes to confess his sins and to do penance. It isthe blood and the tears of our brothers and sisters that are calling tous to return to our people. And now we see how vain our efforts are tobe Russians. There was a great Jew whose name was Heinrich Heine." (Twoof the men manifested their acquaintance with the name by a nod.) "
Hewas a great writer of poetry. So he once wrote about his mother--how hehad abandoned her and sought the love of other women. But he failed tofind love anywhere, until ultimately he came to the conclusion that theonly woman in whom he was sure of love was his own dear mother. This isthe way I feel now. I scarcely ever saw the inside of a synagoguebefore, but now I, like the doctor, belong here. It is not a question ofreligion. I am not religious and cannot be. But I am a Jew and we allbelong together. And when a synagogue happens to stand on a site likethis----"

  He broke off in the middle of the sentence. His allusion to the massacreof two centuries before inspired him with an appalling sense of thecontinuity of Jewish suffering. The others stood about gazing solemnlyat him, until the scholarly old man of eighty with the very white beardbroke silence. He raised his veined aged little hands over Vladimir'shead and said in a nervous treble:

  "May God bless you, my son. That's all I have to say."

  Vladimir was literally electrified by his words.

  "But what do they want of us?" asked a man with a blueish complexion."You say they are good-natured. Do you call it good-natured when oneacts like a wild beast, bathing in the blood of innocent people?"

  "Well, this is the Gentile way of being good-natured," somebody put in,with a sneer, before Vladimir had time to answer.

  "They have been turned into savages," Vigdoroff then said. He maintainedthe low, mournful voice, though he now put a didactic tone into it."They are blind, ignorant people. They are easily made a catspaw of."

  The man with the blueish complexion interrupted him. He spoke of Gentilecruelty, of the Inquisition, the Crusades, massacres, and almost withtears of rage in his eyes he defied Vladimir to tell him that Jews werecapable of any such brutalities. Vladimir said no, Jews were not capableof any bloodshed, and went on defending the Russian people. The man withthe sneer was beginning to annoy him. He was an insignificant lookingfellow with very thin lips and a very thin flat blond beard. Even whenhis face was grave it had a sneering effect. He said very little. Onlyoccasionally he would utter a word or two of which nobody else tooknotice. Yet it was chiefly to him that Vladimir was addressing himself.But the assembly was soon broken up. Rabbi Rachmiel's wife came in atthe head of several other women who were not afraid to walk through thestreets after sundown in these days. They had grown uneasy about theirhusbands' delay.

  Vladimir saluted his aunt warmly. They exchanged a few words, butnothing was said of Clara. An "illegal" person like her could not bementioned in public.