Mandarin

by Elegant, Robert;

  Manchus—even Chinese—behaved as illogically as foreigners. Perhaps all human beings were equally irrational when moved by fundamental emotions.

  CHAPTER 74

  June 19, 1874

  SHANGHAI

  The completion of this house of worship [the gold inscription on the black marble plaque declared in English, Hebrew, and Chinese] WAS MADE POSSIBLE BY THE GENEROUS SUPPORT OF MESSRS. AISEK LEE AND SAUL HALEEVIE OF THE HOUSE OF HALEEVIE AND LEE. Smaller script beneath read: This plaque was unveiled by Saul Haleevie on June 19, 1874, on the joyous occasion of the bar mitzvah of his grandson, Judah.

  Entering the vestibule in haste, Gabriel Hyde glanced at the plaque before easing open the double doors to the hall of worship. He accepted a purple-striped prayer shawl and a black silk skullcap from a stooped verger and tiptoed among the benches occupied entirely by men. Slipping into a seat, he draped the shawl over his shoulders and placed the skullcap on his head.

  The service was almost over. He had just managed to keep his promise to thirteen-year-old Judah to return from Tientsin in time for the confirmation that recognized Fronah’s son as a grown man in Israel.

  The bright June morning could not penetrate the synagogue, since curtains were drawn over the windows in the dome with the scalloped gold lip around its base. The gas lamps were turned up only halfway to avoid glare. In their glow Gabriel saw the rabbi standing on Judah’s right. Behind an altar draped with white satin, open gilt doors revealed the purple velvet curtains of the Ark of the Covenant, which housed the sacred Torah, the Scroll of the Law. His prayer shawl draped over his Sabbath robe, Saul Haleevie beamed beside his grandson. Grave in his blue suit, Judah was chanting in Hebrew from a prayer book held in both hands. Aside from his blond hair and gray eyes, the youth was an unbearded replica of his grandfather. The same thoughtful features were dominated by the same finely arched nose. He glanced toward the balcony where the women sat with shawls covering their heads, and his wide mouth bent in a half-smile.

  With a nod of thanks, the American took the open prayer book his neighbor proffered. He began reading at the place indicated by his benefactor’s long index finger, pleased that he still remembered the angular Hebrew letters. The pronunciation was quite different from that taught at Bowdoin College, but he could follow the sonorous prayer.

  Gabriel turned to look up at the women’s balcony. Fronah sat beside her mother in the front row. The lime-green tissue silk of her bodice beneath the familiar treble rope of black Caspian pearls contrasted with Sarah’s orange kaftan worked with silver arabesques. Fronah fluttered her fingertips and pursed her lips for an instant. He smiled before turning to face the altar.

  Aaron and David’s Mandarin casques bobbed in the front row beside Aisek’s massive head, which was crowned by a black cylinder with a fluted top somewhere between a chef’s toque and the stiff-winged biretta of a Ming Dynasty Grand Secretary. Glancing around the congregation, the American saw a number of familiar faces among a Jewish community that had quadrupled during the past decade: Judah Benjamin, Moses Elias, the Gubbai brothers, and Karl Weinstein. Among new acquaintances he recognized Joshua Nathan, who had replaced Saul as Khartoons’ manager in Shanghai, and the young prince of the regal Sassoon family, who was called Eddie. Some of the bearded faces with their well-fed curves and their assertive noses were too full-blooded for Gabriel’s spare Yankee taste, while the ascetic faces with hooded eyes like Old Testament prophets were almost frighteningly intense. Another part of him responded thirstily to their zest for life and their confident piety.

  “Grandfather and Grandmother, Mother, Uncles, and Friends,” Judah said in English. “I am deeply grateful that you have all come to see me initiated into the community of the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. As I survey this tabernacle dedicated to the worship of the Creator of the Universe, I am proud to be a man in Israel. No longer a child, I am deeply grateful to my family.”

  Judah spoke with feeling and had obviously given much thought to his words. But these valedictory orations were always much the same, the immutable vale atque ave: bidding farewell to childhood and hailing the challenge of manhood. Could the boy, Gabriel wondered, possibly realize that a man’s life was a succession of such epochal transitions? Even a thirteen-year-old as intelligent as Judah could hardly appreciate that he was crossing the first of many great divides, which would not all be smoothed by formal rites and public admiration.

  A half-year earlier, he himself had passed his fortieth birthday, which was a deep river studded with perilous rocks, while Judah was crossing a shallow brook tumbling over smooth stones. Fronah had recently completed her thirty-fifth year, half the allotted three score and ten. He had known her since she was sixteen, but he had known her in the Biblical sense—Gabriel smiled—for a little more than a year.

  Yet he had always loved Fronah, he realized, above all other women he knew, indeed above all possible women. He smiled again as he recalled that he had for years thought his affection was avuncular. Actually, she had always been—and always would be—the most fascinating and perplexing, the most irritating and alluring woman in the world for him. To his shame, he could hardly recall poor Jane’s features. Fronah’s piquant, tawny-haired image floated before his dead wife’s fair serenity in all his reveries.

  Only his protracted absences, the American speculated, had forestalled the confrontation that could blast all his hopes. If she rebuffed him, he would leave her—though he wanted nothing less in all the world. He’d be damned if he would allow the present impasse to persist indefinitely. He wanted her to be his wife, and he wanted her beside him, rather than a thousand miles away at the end of a capricious courier service. He was too old to scurry back and forth like a romantic twenty-year-old between Tientsin and Shanghai.

  “We thank Thee, O Lord, for the speedy resolution of the conflict between our neighbors the French and our Chinese neighbors,” Judah was declaiming. “We thank Thee, also, for the peace that has during the past few months succeeded the rioting and slaughter which provoked bitterness between foreigners and Chinese throughout the Empire. In Thy infinite wisdom, Thou hast …”

  Looking down from the women’s balcony, Fronah let her eyes stray from her son’s portentousness to her lover’s immobility. She reached out her hand as if she could touch his black hair across the distance, and her pulse fluttered. After their long separation, she knew that she loved Gabriel totally and desired him urgently. She wanted to put her arms around his neck and press close to him.

  Fronah glanced sideways to assure herself that her mother had not noticed her emotion. She smiled self-deprecatingly. It was quite unseemly, such youthful fervor in the mother of the tall thirteen-year-old who was today a man in Israel. But she could not help her ardor. No more, unfortunately, could she help her indecisiveness. She despised herself for prevaricating, but she could not help that either.

  Possibly her vacillation would drive Gabriel away. He was not a patient man, despite the nearly saintly indulgence he had displayed for almost a year. However, he was not growing cold toward her, but the contrary. Nonetheless, his recent letters had been testy. If she did not make up her mind soon, she might find herself alone again.

  She would say Yes, Fronah decided abruptly. She would accept Gabriel and worry about the consequences later. She could do no less in fairness to him, as well as herself. Perhaps marriage would not mortally affect her work. Besides, his inevitable return to the United States might be long delayed, for he too was deeply devoted to the task of strengthening China. She would agree today to marry him.

  “… these many blessings Thou hast seen fit to bestow upon us.” Judah was approaching his peroration. “And we thank Thee, O Lord, for our family’s renewed prosperity after a time of anxiety. We thank Thee, also, for the renewed prosperity and vigor, as well as the assured hope of a glorious future, Thou hast vouchsafed to this land, where we are guests.

  “We pray that Thou wilt continue to look after Thy chosen people
like an all-wise father, wherever they may be, however distant from Jerusalem they may find themselves.” Judah looked at his Chinese uncles. “Finally, we pray that the people of Israel in this far land, whether new arrivals or dwellers in China for tens of generations, will always be as one.”

  The luncheon at Jade House to celebrate Judah’s coming of age was quite informal, unlike the banquet that had celebrated Aisek’s sixtieth birthday. But it was far larger. More than five hundred guests drifted through the reception rooms of the mansion toward the mahogany-paneled dining hall, where long tables offered a spectacular buffet. Consuls and army officers of six nations greeted Mandarins and Chinese merchants. Naval officers and foreign commissioners of the Imperial Maritime Customs chatted to European ladies in flower-sprigged summer dresses. Though Maylu held court attended by Aaron and David’s embarrassed wives in a secluded parlor, no other Chinese ladies were present.

  Saul Haleevie had changed his Sabbath robe for a white linen suit. He was more comfortable dressed like other men, he told himself, though he had, of course, not altered in any fundamental aspect.

  He remembered the awkward supplicant who had begged Her Britannic Majesty’s Consul, the almighty Rutherford Alcock, to intercede for Aisek Lee almost twenty years earlier. Alcock, now Minister to Japan, would probably not today recognize him as the alien in the robes of Baghdad who had pleaded in clumsy English. Jubilantly accepting his distinguished guests’ congratulations, Saul himself hardly recognized that awkward figure in the self-assured magnate he had become.

  He fingered the metallic lump in his jacket pocket, knowing he would have to show Fronah her husband’s signet ring this afternoon. Sarah had pointed out that his six months’ grace had already lasted a year. If he did not tell Fronah today, Sarah said implacably, she would do so herself. Though it was his responsibility to break the impasse his animus against a Gentile son-in-law had created, she would consider herself released from her pledge of silence.

  The powerful merchant irresolutely watched his daughter chatting with Samuel Moses on a chintz-covered sofa. He hated to reveal to Fronah that he was not only less than omnipotent but somewhat less than wholly honorable. Since his sin was only an omission, he resented the guilt he felt as he approached the sofa.

  “My dear, I hate to disturb you,” he interrupted. “But your mother needs some help.”

  Sammy Moses rose with alacrity. He not only understood that domestic matters required his hosts’ attention, but he was, Saul saw with gratification, still a little afraid of his former employer.

  “What does Mama want?” Fronah asked lightly.

  “It’s not your mother, Fronah. I’ve got something to tell you—something important.”

  “It must be important if it can’t wait till the party’s over.” She laughed. “What’s so pressing?”

  “It’s waited too long, your mother says. Let’s go into the library.”

  Puzzled by his laconic urgency, Fronah followed her father through the throng. Her mother was talking animatedly with Gabriel Hyde. He touched Fronah’s arm to remind her they would soon be alone together. Sarah glanced from her daughter to her husband and, her smile strained, nodded encouragement to Saul.

  Fronah looked at her father in surprise when he locked the teak door of the library.

  “Now,” she demanded, “what’s this great mystery?”

  “Sit down, my dear,” he directed. “Please sit down.”

  As she settled into a red leather armchair, he stared abstractedly at the crammed bookcases reaching to the plaster roses of the cornice. Vaguely apprehensive, Fronah waited.

  “You know I told you we couldn’t find out about … what happened to Lionel.”

  “Yes, Papa. I know you tried hard.”

  “Well, it wasn’t true,” he said gruffly. “It wasn’t then, and it isn’t now.”

  “Not true? What do you mean? What’s not true?”

  “About Lionel. I do know. He’s gone, Fronah, gone.”

  “I know he’s gone. If that’s all you …” she began irritably. “Do you mean you finally know where he’s gone? You’ve heard from him? Why didn’t he get in touch with me? But you know where he is?”

  “Fronah, I’ve known since the beginning of 1864, more than ten years ago,” he said tonelessly. “Your husband was killed at the siege of Soochow.”

  “How could you have known so long and not told me?” she flared. “It’s just a trick you’re playing. Mama’s put you up to it because she’s so strong for Gabriel. Please tell her I’ll make up my own mind in my own time.”

  “Fronah, it’s no trick. Aaron and David, they found his … they found Lionel. He was … was gone.”

  “Then how could you be so underhanded … keep it from me all these years? You’re just saying what you think is best for me. I can’t believe you. If it’s true, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “We didn’t want to shock you—didn’t want to make you worse. You were still sick, remember?” Saul placated her. “Believe me, dear, Lionel is dead. You’re free to marry your … your friend Gabriel. He’s a good man, even though he’s a Gentile. But Lionel is unquestionably dead. Ask David if you don’t believe me.”

  Fronah sat staring at the gold-leaf lettering on the vellum-bound Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Gibbon, what a funny name, she thought inconsequentially, an eminent historian called after a monkey. She shed no tears, but the title dissolved into a yellow haze through the mist in her eyes. Faint sorrow contended with relief in her heart. It all seemed so long ago, and she was now free to marry Gabriel—if she wished.

  “I will ask David,” she finally said. “I think I believe you, Papa. But I want to know how … how he died. Papa, how could you keep it from me so long?”

  “In the beginning it was necessary … for your health. Afterward, it was somehow never the right time. Your mother is convinced I was wrong. I’m sorry, dear, very sorry about Lionel … and not telling you. I’m a stubborn old man, maybe a foolish old man.”

  Fronah rose and linked her arm through Saul’s. Standing on her toes, she kissed his cheek.

  “Not foolish,” she said softly. “But certainly stubborn. That’s where I get it from, I suppose. And that’s all there is to tell?”

  “Aaron can tell you more. Aaron found … this after the battle.” He handed her the misshapen ring. “Aaron was very fond of Lionel, you know.”

  Fronah’s fingertips traced the incised coat of arms on the tarnished gold. When she turned away, Saul pressed his handkerchief into her hand. He stood beside the fireplace, irresolutely fingering the books, while she looked into the distance.

  “Please leave me alone for a minute,” she finally asked hoarsely. “I don’t know how I should really feel. But I’ll be all right, I promise you.”

  His tall frame stooped, Saul Haleevie unlocked the teak door. As he straightened his shoulders to meet his guests, he heard the key turn in the lock. His wife, he saw, was still talking with Gabriel Hyde. His eyes sought Aaron and David among the throng, for he needed his sons.

  Fronah sat unmoving in the red leather chair, her hands clasped in her lap and her expression calm. She finally knew that Lionel had died among the fanatical Taipings. The unhappy man who was her husband and the father of her son had met death alone amid the horrors of the sack of Soochow. She would probably never know who killed him, the Taipings or the Imperialists.

  As if that mattered after all these years! She smiled ruefully. It mattered not at all to Lionel, and it hardly mattered to her.

  What of herself? She was a widow, free to marry Gabriel. Yet that release did not matter terribly at the moment.

  When Saul astonished Aaron by asking for a large brandy in the early afternoon, his wife was still chatting with Gabriel Hyde. They had bantered for some time, he praising her grandson’s maturity while she feigned modesty she did not feel.

  “Gabriel, tell me,” Sarah asked idly. “Do you read Hebrew? I was watching you in the synagogue. You
seemed almost to feel at home.”

  “My dear Sarah, everyone studied Hebrew—along with Latin and Greek—at Bowdoin College.” The American’s negligent manner concealed his shock. “Though your pronunciation’s different from that we learned.”

  “I see now. So that’s the reason.”

  “Of course, Sarah.” Gabriel was pricked by guilt at his own deviousness. “That’s the reason.”

  “It’s hard to explain, but I had the feeling it was all familiar to you,” she persisted. “Most Gentiles find our services strange.”

  “Not to me,” he relented. “I’m hardly unaccustomed to the synagogue. My Uncle David used to take me on the High Holy Days.”

  “Your uncle? Oh, a friend of the family. Like the Chinese, you called him uncle?”

  “Not quite, Sarah,” he replied. “Uncle David was my mother’s brother.”

  “You’re joking, Gabriel. How can that be?”

  “Simply because they had the same mother and father.” Thoroughly annoyed, he demanded: “Didn’t Fronah tell you my mother was Jewish?”

  Sarah hesitated for a telltale moment. Recovering, she smiled self-deprecatingly.

  “Of course she did. I just forgot. I’m getting old, and sometimes my wits wander.”

  “Or, perhaps, she forgot, Sarah.” Gabriel’s flat tone masked his rising irritation. “Perhaps she just forgot.”

  “Maybe that’s it. Maybe she forgot. But it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  Joy swept aside Sarah’s confusion. Saul could no longer object to Gabriel, who, she assured herself, had been her own favorite from the beginning. If only they had known when they pressed Fronah to marry Lionel Henriques. It was too late for regrets, but it was not too late for Fronah and Gabriel.

  “That’s wonderful, Gabriel,” she exulted. “Now you two can marry. Oh, Gabriel, I’m so happy. And I know you and Fronah will be wonderfully happy. So much happier than she was with Lionel.”