Chapter IX: The Zionists

Montella did not go straight home in spite of Patricia’s injunction. He turned into the park, and crossed over to the Serpentine, scarcely knowing whither his steps were tending. A slight mist hung over the water, and the air was chilly with the raw dampness of November. With no sound to break the stillness, save the echo of his own tread and the rumble of far-off traffic, he was able to steady his nerves. Moore’s Bill had given him a blow from which he could not easily recover; but on due consideration he came to the conclusion that he had been unwise to have so openly displayed his agitation. What he needed were coolness and confidence; but instead of showing either he had become as panic-stricken as an animal driven to bay.

He flung himself down on a seat, with his back to the water, and tried to think out his speech for the morrow. He knew that as the only Jewish member of any importance in the House, his co-religionists would look to him to vindicate their claims. On him had fallen the responsibility of voicing the appeal for justice of the whole Jewish community, and although he was but a unit when it came to taking the majority, it was his duty to oppose the Bill tooth and nail.

The absurdity of the Bill would have caused him amusement had it not affected him so nearly; for he could see that endless complications would arise if it were passed. The banishment of the Jews was a matter easier said than done, seeing that the yellow badge and the _rouelle_ were things of the past. Well, it would be a fine test for separating true Jews from false: perhaps persecution would—as it had so often done before—kindle the smouldering fire of Judaism into a flame.

The newspapers next morning were full of the new Bill, and despite the fact that many of the newspaper proprietors were of Hebrew extraction, the attitude taken up by the majority of the dailies was in favour of the project. Instead of displaying the sense of justice and fairplay which has ever been the Englishman’s boast, the leaders were characterised by envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. The jealousy which had been kept under for so long a time now burst forth with uncontrollable fury; to Montella, it was but the impotent howling of a totally corrupt press.

His speech that night had nothing of the brilliance of the Premier’s oration, but it was manly and straight to the point. Like a second Daniel come to judgment, he stood erect and fearless; and stated his case with a lucidity which was bound to create a good impression. While admitting the undesirability of pauper alien immigration, he considered it the height of folly to desire to interfere with the peace of those estimable Jewish citizens who kept the laws and contributed to the welfare of the country. He asked his colleagues to look back to the reign of Queen Victoria—the reign which brought so much emancipation to the Jews—to note the friendliness with which she always treated them, and the consequent prosperity of England during her reign. He begged them not to allow the beneficent influence of Victoria the Good to be dispelled; and appealing to their common sense as well as their humanity, endeavoured to point out the disadvantages appertaining to such a Bill. He certainly had logic on his side, as well as the certainty that his cause was a just one; and his words, uttered in a low but distinct tone, commanded respect. The calmness with which he spoke contrasted favourably with the lashing words of the Premier, whose eyes gleamed with a personal hatred as well as an impersonal conviction. But despite the justice of Montella’s plea, the general feeling was against the Jews; and as the whole of the working-classes supported the Bill, there was little doubt as to its final issue.

“It is madness!” Montella exclaimed, when he told his mother and Raie of the result. “The people are all afflicted with Judaphobia; their reasoning powers are numbed. They will not be satisfied until they have broken up our homes and driven us away.”

“And is there no antidote?” asked Raie wistfully. “Cannot we come to a compromise of some sort?”

“There is the only one which Mr. Lawson Holmes suggested in the House this afternoon—assimilation. We are to sink our racial affinity, one towards another; give up our Judaism for Theism; attend Theistic places of worship, if worship in public we must; pull down our synagogues and burn our _talithim_; abstain from clannishness; marry only Gentiles; and forget our descent. That, says Mr. Holmes, is the rational solution of the whole question. Assimilation is the means by which we are to wriggle out of the difficulty. Of course, it applies only to us British Jews.”

“No doubt there are many who will think that a very sensible course,” said Lady Montella. “Still I am surprised that if the racial prejudice is really so strong the Gentiles should desire the admixture with English blood. Ah—” as a maid approached bearing a card on a silver salver, “someone to see you, I suppose.”

“Dr. Engelmacher!” exclaimed Lionel, with pleasure, as he took up the card. “I had no idea that he was in London. Show him in here please, Mary.”

“Dr. Engelmacher!” repeated Lady Montella, her eyes brightening at the name. “He must have come here for some special purpose.”

Max Engelmacher was the great leader of the Zionists in Germany, a man whose fame had spread throughout every Jewish centre. In appearance he was a typical German, with fair hair, light blue eyes covered with spectacles, and rugged features. No less Oriental-looking man could ever have been found; nevertheless, he was a very Jew of the Jews—to some a second Moses ready to lead his people to the promised land, to others the one who should come in the power and spirit of Elijah before the advent of the national Messiah. As a young man he—in common with others—had seen his visions and dreamed his dreams; but experience had hardened him into a genial cynic who was practical before everything else.

Lady Montella rose as his burly figure blocked the doorway, and held out her hand with almost the first smile which had passed across her face since her husband’s death. There was no doubt as to the sincerity of her welcome.

“This bad business has had one good effect, since it has brought you here,” she said.

“A bad business indeed, lady,” he replied, in German. “Yet if it stirs up some of you English Jews to action, I shall not call it altogether bad.”

“You think we are too cold, eh, doctor?”

“Cold? _Um Gotteswillen!_ yes. You sit at home in your fine houses, with your maids and footmen, your electric light and your telephone, and you will scarcely spare a _nebbich_[6] for those of your own race who are hounded from one place to another, who are scarcely allowed to take a free breath of God’s air because they are Jews. You metaphorically gather your skirts together lest you should be defiled by contact with those whom you choose to call the scum of the earth; but you do not take the trouble to consider what has brought them so low. And you tie up your heart-strings and your purse-strings tight, lest you should be tempted to throw good money away. Cold! You are a nation of icebergs, so civilised and anglicised that what feeling you ever possessed has been refined out of you long ago. That is my opinion of the English Jews, madam. I am bound to speak the truth.”

Footnote 6:

“Poor things!”

“Dear old Engelmacher!” exclaimed Montella, _sotto voce_. “A voice of thunder, and a heart of gold!”

Then he turned to the mighty pioneer, and entered upon a serious conversation concerning the present crisis. It was a relief to him to be able to open his heart.

The doctor, having obtained permission, lit up his old and well-beloved briar, and puffed away in silence. He always believed that his pipe assisted his mental digestion, and never troubling to study conventionalities, was not deterred by the presence of the ladies. Lady Montella was too much interested in the discussion to mind the smoke. She considered this an opportunity which should certainly not be lost.

“It is money we want,” the doctor said, when the whole situation had been explained. “Another two millions, and Palestine will be ours. I have the best authority for saying this; our colleague Karl Lierhammer had an audience with the Sultan last week. Only one hundred thousand pounds is needed to allow us to start operations north-west of the Jordan at once, and I can lay my hands on fifty thousand Jewish artisans who are ready to begin. So you see our dream is not so far from being realised after all.”

Lady Montella’s face glowed.

“How splendidly you have worked while we thought the movement was at a standstill,” she said. “You may count on us for the hundred thousand; we will raise it among ourselves and our relations. We can safely promise this, I think?” she added, addressing her son.

Lionel answered in the affirmative.

“We do not require the money as a donation,” Dr. Engelmacher explained. “It will all go into the national debt. Palestine will be a self-supporting country in a comparatively short time; the fertility of the land is remarkable. Will you believe me, dear people, when I tell you that before the Zionist movement was conceived, that country was barren from lack of water; but that since we began our operations there the rain has fallen in due season, and all Nature has conduced to further our aim?[7] Is not this a testimony—if such we need—to the righteousness of our cause?”

Footnote 7:

A fact attested by the Rev. Dr. Gaster.

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Lady Montella, with glad surprise. “Yet people say that miracles do not happen nowadays. Why, even Christians believe that we are to be restored to our own land—the land of promise. Strange that some of the Jews themselves should be so reluctant to act on that belief.”

“Strange indeed,” returned the doctor. “I believe that prosperity and freedom have combined to dim their spiritual vision. They live only for the present, and being happy themselves, they are incapable of feeling for their persecuted brethren abroad. Ah, if I can only succeed in arousing the interest of all the rich Jews in England so far as to make them invest their money Zionwards, our cause will be won. It is for this purpose that I have come here.”

“If England expels the Jews, I’m afraid she will regret it before many months are past,” said Montella thoughtfully. “I believe the Government will not have the best side of the bargain after all.”

“The Government will find itself in the biggest pickle it has ever known,” was Dr. Engelmacher’s reply. “It is safe to say that when anti-Semitism attacks a country, that country is in a state of decline. England, the justice-loving happy queen of nations, will soon find out her mistake. She is but passing through a phase; she will come through the cloud strengthened and purified. I know and love the English people well enough to be certain of this.”

“Then you think—?”

“I think nothing yet, my dear Montella. I prefer to wait for the course of events. For the present I must say _Auf Wiedersehen_. I shall see you again before I leave London, I hope.”

He rose, and politely declining Lady Montella’s cordial invitation to dinner, took his departure; but they saw him again at a huge Zionist meeting on the following night. The hall was packed from door to door, rich and poor uniting for once under the sense of common danger. Like a drowning man catches at a straw, they clung to the new hope which was presented to them; for with anti-Semitism brought so near home, they could no longer afford to ignore the burning question. And what a hope it was that, clothed though it was in foreign accents, breathed through Engelmacher’s words! A land of their very own, where persecution would be forgotten, where they could lift their heads in freedom, and win back their good name. The promised land of their forefathers and of their glorious past—the promised land of the future, where they should behold the long-looked-for coming of the King! No wonder that their stricken hearts were inflamed by the national hope. The voices of the prophets—to which for so long they had turned deaf ears—were reaching them at last.

Who could tell what new revelations they might not have to unfold?