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Chapter 11

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it was not till she was seated in the ancient synagogue, relieved from the squeeze of entry in the wake of soldiers and the exhilaration of hearing 'see the conquering hero comes' pealing, she knew not whence, that she woke to the full strangeness of it all, and to the consciousness that she was actually sitting among the men—just as in st. paul's. and what men! everywhere the scarlet and grey of uniforms, the glister of gold lace—the familiar decorous lines of devout top-hats broken by glittering helmets, bear-skins, white nodding plumes, busbies, red caps a-cock, glengarries, all the colour of the british army, mixed with the feathered jauntiness of the colonies and the khaki sombreros of the c.i.v.'s! coldstream guards, scots guards, dragoon guards, lancers, hussars, artillery, engineers, king's royal rifles, all the corps that had for the first time come clearly into her consciousness in her tardy absorption into english realities, jews seemed to be among them all. and without conscription—oh, what would poor solomon have thought of that?

the great synagogue itself struck a note of modern english gaiety, as of an hotel dining-room, freshly gilded, divested of its historic mellowness, the electric light replacing the ancient candles and flooding the winter afternoon with white resplendence. the pulpit—yes, the pulpit—was swathed in the union jack; and looking towards the box of the parnass and gabbai, she saw it was occupied by officers with gold sashes. somebody whispered that he with the medalled [77]breast was a christian knight and commander of the bath—'a great honour for the synagogue!' what! were christians coming to jewish services, even as she had gone to christian? why, here was actually a white cross on an officer's sleeve.

and before these alien eyes, the cantor, intoning his hebrew chant on the steps of the ark, lit the great many-branched chanukah candlestick. truly, the world was changing under her eyes.

and when the chief rabbi went toward the ark in his turn, she saw that he wore a strange scarlet and white gown (military, too, she imagined in her ignorance), and—oh, even rarer sight!—he was followed by a helmeted soldier, who drew the curtain revealing the ornate scrolls of the law.

and amid it all a sound broke forth that sent a sweetness through her blood. an organ! an organ in the synagogue! ah! here indeed was anglicization.

it was thin and reedy even to her ears, compared with that divine resonance in st. paul's: a tinkling apology, timidly disconnected from the congregational singing, and hovering meekly on the borders of the service—she read afterwards that it was only a harmonium—yet it brought a strange exaltation, and there was an uplifting even to tears in the glittering uniforms and nodding plumes. simon's eyes met his mother's, and a flash of the old childish love passed between them.

there was a sermon—the text taken with dual appropriateness from the book of maccabees. fully one in ten of the jewish volunteers, said the preacher, had gone forth to drive out the bold invader of the queen's dominions. their beloved country had no [78]more devoted citizens than the children of israel who had settled under her flag. they had been gratified, but not surprised, to see in the jewish press the names of more than seven hundred jews serving queen and country. many more had gone unrecorded, so that they had proportionally contributed more soldiers—from colonel to bugler-boy—than their mere numbers would warrant. so at one in spirit and ideals were the englishman and the jew whose scriptures he had imbibed, that it was no accident that the anglophobes of europe were also anti-semites.

and then the congregation rose, while the preacher behind the folds of the union jack read out the names of the jews who had died for england in the far-off veldt. every head was bent as the names rose on the hushed air of the synagogue. it went on and on, this list, reeking with each bloody historic field, recalling every regiment, british or colonial; on and on in the reverent silence, till a black pall seemed to descend, inch by inch, overspreading the synagogue. she had never dreamed so many of her brethren had died out there. ah! surely they were knit now, these races: their friendship sealed in blood!

as the soldiers filed out of synagogue, she squeezed towards simon and seized his hand for an instant, whispering passionately: 'my lamb, marry her—we are all english alike.'

nor did she ever know that she had said these words in yiddish!

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