{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_9886/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_9886","id":"gutenberg_9886","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9886","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Ibn Zabara, Joseph ben Meir, 1140?- Sefer sha'ashu'im","Jews -- Intellectual life","Judaism","Love poetry, Hebrew -- History and criticism"],"text":"Produced by Tom Allen, Charles Franks and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOOK OF DELIGHT\n\nAND\n\nOTHER PAPERS\n\n\nBY\n\nISRAEL ABRAHAMS, M.A.\n\nAuthor of \"Jewish Life in the Middle Ages,\" \"Chapters on Jewish\nLiterature,\" etc.\n\n1912\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe chapters of this volume were almost all spoken addresses. The author\nhas not now changed their character as such, for it seemed to him that to\nconvert them into formal essays would be to rob them of any little\nattraction they may possess.\n\nOne of the addresses--that on \"Medieval Wayfaring\"--was originally spoken\nin Hebrew, in Jerusalem. It was published, in part, in English in the\nLondon _Jewish Chronicle_, and the author is indebted to the conductors of\nthat periodical for permission to include this, and other material, in the\npresent collection.\n\nSome others of the chapters have been printed before, but a considerable\nproportion of the volume is quite new, and even those addresses that are\nreprinted are now given in a fuller and much revised text.\n\nAs several of the papers were intended for popular audiences, the author is\npersuaded that it would ill accord with his original design to overload the\nbook with notes and references. These have been supplied only where\nabsolutely necessary, and a few additional notes are appended at the end of\nthe volume.\n\nThe author realizes that the book can have little permanent value. But as\nthese addresses seemed to give pleasure to those who heard them, he thought\nit possible that they might provide passing entertainment also to those who\nare good enough to read them.\n\nISRAEL ABRAHAMS\n\nCAMBRIDGE, ENG., September, 1911\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nI. \"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT\"\n\nII. A VISIT TO HEBRON\n\nIII. THE SOLACE OF BOOKS\n\nIV. MEDIEVAL WAYFARING\n\nV. THE FOX'S HEART\n\nVI. \"MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN\"\n\nVII. HEBREW LOVE SONGS\n\nVIII. A HANDFUL OF CURIOSITIES\n\n  i. George Eliot and Solomon Maimon\n  ii. How Milton Pronounced Hebrew\n  iii. The Cambridge Platonists\n  iv. The Anglo-Jewish Yiddish Literary Society\n  v. The Mystics and Saints of India\n  vi. Lost Purim Joys\n  vii. Jews and Letters\n  viii. The Shape of Matzoth\n\nNOTES\n\nINDEX\n\n[Transcriber's Note: Index not included in this e-text edition.]\n\n\n\n\n\"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT\"\n\n\nJoseph Zabara has only in recent times received the consideration justly\ndue to him. Yet his \"Book of Delight,\" finished about the year 1200, is\nmore than a poetical romance. It is a golden link between folk-literature\nand imaginative poetry. The style is original, and the framework of the\nstory is an altogether fresh adaptation of a famous legend. The anecdotes\nand epigrams introduced incidentally also partake of this twofold quality.\nThe author has made them his own, yet they are mostly adapted rather than\ninvented. Hence, the poem is as valuable to the folklorist as to the\nliterary critic. For, though Zabara's compilation is similar to such\nwell-known models as the \"Book of Sindbad,\" the _Kalilah ve-Dimnah_, and\nothers of the same class, yet its appearance in Europe is half a century\nearlier than the translations by which these other products of the East\nbecame part of the popular literature of the Western world. At the least,\nthen, the \"Book of Delight\" is an important addition to the scanty store of\nthe folk-lore records of the early part of the thirteenth century. The\nfolk-lore interest of the book is, indeed, greater than was known formerly,\nfor it is now recognized as a variant of the Solomon-Marcolf legend. On\nthis more will be said below,\n\nAs a poet and as a writer of Hebrew, Joseph Zabara's place is equally\nsignificant. He was one of the first to write extended narratives in Hebrew\nrhymed prose with interspersed snatches of verse, the form invented by\nArabian poets, and much esteemed as the medium for story-telling and for\nwriting social satire. The best and best-known specimens of this form of\npoetry in Hebrew are Charizi's _Tachkemoni_, and his translation of Hariri.\nZabara has less art than Charizi, and far less technical skill, yet in him\nall the qualities are in the bud that Charizi's poems present in the\nfullblown flower. The reader of Zabara feels that other poets will develop\nhis style and surpass him; the reader of Charizi knows of a surety that in\nhim the style has reached its climax.\n\nOf Joseph Zabara little is known beyond what may be gleaned from a\ndiscriminating study of the \"Book of Delight.\" That this romance is largely\nautobiographical in fact, as it is in form, there can be no reasonable\ndoubt. The poet writes with so much indignant warmth of the dwellers in\ncertain cities, of their manner of life, their morals, and their culture,\nthat one can only infer that he is relating his personal experiences.\nZabara, like the hero of his romance, travelled much during the latter\nportion of the twelfth century, as is known from the researches of Geiger.\nHe was born in Barcelona, and returned there to die. In the interval, we\nfind him an apt pupil of Joseph Kimchi, in Narbonne. Joseph Kimchi, the\nfounder of the famous Kimchi family, carried the culture of Spain to\nProvence; and Joseph Zabara may have acquired from Kimchi his mastery over\nHebrew, which he writes with purity and simplicity. The difficulties\npresented in some passages of the \"Book of Delight\" are entirely due to the\ncorrupt state of the text. Joseph Kimchi, who flourished in Provence from\n1150 to 1170, quotes Joseph Zabara twice, with approval, in explaining\nverses in Proverbs. It would thus seem that Zabara, even in his student\ndays, was devoted to the proverb-lore on which he draws so lavishly in his\nmaturer work.\n\nDr. Steinschneider, to whom belongs the credit of rediscovering Zabara in\nmodern times, infers that the poet was a physician. There is more than\nprobability in the case; there is certainty. The romance is built by a\ndoctor; there is more talk of medicine in it than of any other topic of\ndiscussion. Moreover, the author, who denies that he is much of a\nTalmudist, accepts the compliment paid to him by his visitor, Enan, that he\nis \"skilled and well-informed in the science of medicine.\" There is, too, a\nprofessional tone about many of the quips and gibes in which Zabara\nindulges concerning doctors. Here, for instance, is an early form of a\nwitticism that has been attributed to many recent humorists. \"A\nphilosopher,\" says Zabara, \"was sick unto death, and his doctor gave him\nup; yet the patient recovered. The convalescent was walking in the street\nwhen the doctor met him. 'You come,' said he, 'from the other world.'\n'Yes,' rejoined the patient, 'I come from there, and I saw there the awful\nretribution that falls on doctors; for they kill their patients. Yet, do\nnot feel alarmed. You will not suffer. I told them on my oath that you are\nno doctor.'\"\n\nAgain, in one of the poetical interludes (found only in the Constantinople\nedition) occurs this very professional sneer, \"A doctor and the Angel of\nDeath both kill, but the former charges a fee.\" Who but a doctor would\nenter into a scathing denunciation of the current system of diagnosis, as\nZabara does in a sarcastic passage, which Erter may have imitated\nunconsciously? And if further proof be needed that Zabara was a man of\nscience, the evidence is forthcoming; for Zabara appeals several times to\nexperiment in proof of his assertions. And to make assurance doubly sure,\nthe author informs his readers in so many words of his extensive medical\npractice in his native place.\n\nIf Zabara be the author of the other, shorter poems that accompany the\n\"Book of Delight\" in the Constantinople edition, though they are not\nincorporated into the main work, we have a further indication that Zabara\nwas a medical man. There is a satirical introduction against the doctors\nthat slay a man before his time. The author, with mock timidity, explains\nthat he withholds his name, lest the medical profession turn its attention\nto him with fatal results. \"Never send for a doctor,\" says the satirist,\n\"for one cannot expect a miracle to happen.\" It is important, for our\nunderstanding of another feature in Zabara's work, to observe that his\ninvective, directed against the practitioners rather than the science of\nmedicine, is not more curious as coming from a medical man, than are the\nattacks on women perpetrated by some Jewish poets (Zabara among them), who\nthemselves amply experienced, in their own and their community's life, the\ntender and beautiful relations that subsist between Jewish mother and son,\nJewish wife and husband.\n\nThe life of Joseph ben Meir Zabara was not happy. He left Barcelona in\nsearch of learning and comfort. He found the former, but the latter eluded\nhim. It is hard to say from the \"Book of Delight\" whether he was a\nwoman-hater, or not. On the one hand, he says many pretty things about\nwomen. The moral of the first section of the romance is: Put your trust in\nwomen; and the moral of the second section of the poem is: A good woman is\nthe best part of man. But, though this is so, Zabara does undoubtedly quote\na large number of stories full of point and sting, stories that tell of\nwomen's wickedness and infidelity, of their weakness of intellect and\nfickleness of will. His philogynist tags hardly compensate for his\nmisogynist satires. He runs with the hare, but hunts energetically with the\nhounds.\n\nIt is this characteristic of Zabara's method that makes it open to doubt,\nwhether the additional stories referred to as printed with the\nConstantinople edition did really emanate from our author's pen. These\nadditions are sharply misogynist; the poet does not even attempt to blunt\ntheir point. They include \"The Widow's Vow\" (the widow, protesting undying\nconstancy to her first love, eagerly weds another) and \"Woman's\nContentions.\" In the latter, a wicked woman is denounced with the wildest\ninvective. She has demoniac traits; her touch is fatal. A condemned\ncriminal is offered his life if he will wed a wicked woman. \"O King,\" he\ncried, \"slay me; for rather would I die once, than suffer many deaths every\nday.\" Again, once a wicked woman pursued a heroic man. He met some devils.\n\"What are you running from?\" asked they. \"From a wicked woman,\" he\nanswered. The devils turned and ran away with him.\n\nOne rather longer story may be summarized thus: Satan, disguised in human\nshape, met a fugitive husband, who had left his wicked wife. Satan told him\nthat he was in similar case, and proposed a compact. Satan would enter into\nthe bodies of men, and the other, pretending to be a skilful physician,\nwould exorcise Satan. They would share the profits. Satan begins on the\nking, and the queen engages the confederate to cure the king within three\ndays, for a large fee, but in case of failure the doctor is to die. Satan\nrefuses to come out: his real plan is to get the doctor killed in this way.\nThe doctor obtains a respite, and collects a large body of musicians, who\nmake a tremendous din. Satan trembles. \"What is that noise?\" he asks. \"Your\nwife is coming,\" says the doctor. Out sprang Satan and fled to the end of\nthe earth.\n\nThese tales and quips, it is true, are directed against \"wicked\" women, but\nif Zabara really wrote them, it would be difficult to acquit him of\nwoman-hatred, unless the stories have been misplaced, and should appear, as\npart of the \"Book of Delight,\" within the Leopard section, which rounds off\na series of unfriendly tales with a moral friendly to woman. In general,\nOriental satire directed against women must not be taken too seriously. As\nGuedemann has shown, the very Jews that wrote most bitterly of women were\nloud in praise of their own wives--the women whom alone they knew\nintimately. Woman was the standing butt for men to hurl their darts at, and\none cannot help feeling that a good deal of the fun got its point from the\nknowledge that the charges were exaggerated or untrue. You find the Jewish\nsatirists exhausting all their stores of drollery on the subject of\nrollicking drunkenness. They roar till their sides creak over the humor of\nthe wine-bibber. They laugh at him and with him. They turn again and again\nto the subject, which shares the empire with women in the Jewish poets. Yet\nwe know well enough that the writers of these Hebrew Anacreontic lyrics\nwere sober men, who rarely indulged in overmuch strong drink. In short, the\nmedieval Jewish satirists were gifted with much of what a little time ago\nwas foolishly styled \"the new humor.\" Joseph Zabara was a \"new\" humorist.\nHe has the quaint subtlety of the author of the \"Ingoldsby Legends,\" and\nrevelled in the exaggeration of trifles that is the stock-in-trade of the\nmodern funny man. Woman plays the part with the former that the\nmother-in-law played a generation ago with the latter. In Zabara, again,\nthere is a good deal of mere rudeness, which the author seems to mistake\nfor cutting repartee. This, I take it, is another characteristic of the\nso-called new humor.\n\nThe probable explanation of the marked divergence between Zabara's stories\nand the moral he draws from them lies, however, a little deeper. The\nstories themselves are probably Indian in origin; hence they are marked by\nthe tone hostile to woman so characteristic of Indian folk-lore. On the\nother hand, if Zabara himself was a friendly critic of woman, his own\nmoralizings in her favor are explained. This theory is not entirely upset\nby the presence even of the additional stories, for these, too, are\ntranslations, and Zabara cannot be held responsible for their contents. The\nselection of good anecdotes was restricted in his day within very narrow\nlimits.\n\nYet Zabara's reading must have been extensive. He knew something of\nastronomy, philosophy, the science of physiognomy, music, mathematics, and\nphysics, and a good deal of medicine. He was familiar with Arabian\ncollections of proverbs and tales, for he informs his readers several times\nthat he is drawing on Arabic sources. He knew the \"Choice of Pearls,\" the\nMidrashic \"Stories of King Solomon,\" the \"Maxims of the Philosophers,\" the\n\"Proverbs of the Wise\"; but not \"Sendabar\" in its Hebrew form. His\nacquaintance with the language of the Bible was thorough; but he makes one\nor two blunders in quoting the substance of Scriptural passages. Though he\ndisclaimed the title of a Talmudic scholar, he was not ignorant of the\nRabbinic literature. Everyone quotes it: the fox, the woman, Enan, and the\nauthor. He was sufficiently at home in this literature to pun therein. He\nalso knew the story of Tobit, but, as he introduces it as \"a most\nmarvellous tale,\" it is clear that this book of the Apocrypha was not\nwidely current in his day. The story, as Zabara tells it, differs\nconsiderably from the Apocryphal version of it. The incidents are\nmisplaced, the story of the betrothal is disconnected from that of the\nrecovery of the money by Tobit, and the detail of the gallows occurs in no\nother known text of the story. In one point, Zabara's version strikingly\nagrees with the Hebrew and Chaldee texts of Tobit as against the Greek;\nTobit's son is not accompanied by a dog on his journey to recover his\nfather's long-lost treasure.\n\nOne of the tales told by Zabara seems to imply a phenomenon of the\nexistence of which there is no other evidence. There seems to have been in\nSpain a small class of Jews that were secret converts to Christianity. They\npassed openly for Jews, but were in truth Christians. The motive for the\nconcealment is unexplained, and the whole passage may be merely satirical.\n\nIt remains for me to describe the texts now extant of the \"Book of\nDelight.\" In 1865 the \"Book of Delight\" appeared, from a fifteenth century\nmanuscript in Paris, in the second volume of a Hebrew periodical called the\n_Lebanon_. In the following year the late Senior Sachs wrote an\nintroduction to it and to two other publications, which were afterwards\nissued together under the title _Yen Lebanon_ (Paris, 1866). The editor was\naware of the existence of another text, but, strange to tell, he did not\nperceive the need of examining it. Had he done this, his edition would have\nbeen greatly improved. For the Bodleian Library possesses a copy of another\nedition of the \"Book of Delight,\" undated, and without place of issue, but\nprinted in Constantinople, in 1577. One or two other copies of this edition\nare extant elsewhere. The editor was Isaac Akrish, as we gather from a\nmarginal note to the version of Tobit given by Joseph Zabara. This Isaac\nAkrish was a travelling bookseller, who printed interesting little books,\nand hawked them about. Dr. Steinschneider points out that the date of Isaac\nAkrish's edition can be approximately fixed by the type. The type is that\nof the Jaabez Press, established in Constantinople and Salonica in 1560.\nThis Constantinople edition is not only longer than the Paris edition, it\nis, on the whole, more accurate. The verbal variations between the two\neditions are extremely numerous, but the greater accuracy of the\nConstantinople edition shows itself in many ways. The rhymes are much\nbetter preserved, though the Paris edition is occasionally superior in this\nrespect. But many passages that are quite unintelligible in the Paris\nedition are clear enough in the Constantinople edition.\n\nThe gigantic visitor of Joseph, the narrator, the latter undoubtedly the\nauthor himself, is a strange being. Like the guide of Gil Bias on his\nadventures, he is called a demon, and he glares and emits smoke and fire.\nBut he proves amenable to argument, and quotes the story of the\nwasherwoman, to show how it was that he became a reformed character. This\ndevil quotes the Rabbis, and is easily convinced that it is unwise for him\nto wed an ignorant bride. It would seem as though Zabara were, on the one\nhand, hurling a covert attack against some one who had advised him to leave\nBarcelona to his own hurt, while, on the other hand, he is satirizing the\ncurrent beliefs of Jews and Christians in evil spirits. More than one\npassage is decidedly anti-Christian, and it would not be surprising to find\nthat the framework of the romance had been adopted with polemic intention.\n\nThe character of the framework becomes more interesting when it is realized\nthat Zabara derived it from some version of the legends of which King\nSolomon is the hero. The king had various adventures with a being more or\nless demoniac in character, who bears several names: Asmodeus, Saturn,\nMarcolf, or Morolf. That the model for Zabara's visitor was Solomon's\ninterlocutor, is not open to doubt. The Solomon legend occurs in many\nforms, but in all Marcolf (or whatever other name he bears) is a keen\ncontester with the king in a battle of wits. No doubt, at first Marcolf\nfilled a serious, respectable role; in course of time, his character\ndegenerated into that of a clown or buffoon. It is difficult to summarize\nthe legend, it varies so considerably in the versions. Marcolf in the\nbest-known forms, which are certainly older than Zabara, is \"right rude and\ngreat of body, of visage greatly misshapen and foul.\" Sometimes he is a\ndwarf, sometimes a giant; he is never normal. He appears with his\ncounterpart, a sluttish wife, before Solomon, who, recognizing him as\nfamous for his wit and wisdom, challenges him to a trial of wisdom,\npromising great rewards as the prize of victory. The two exchange a series\nof questions and answers, which may be compared in spirit, though not in\nactual content, with the questions and answers to be found in Zabara.\nMarcolf succeeds in thoroughly tiring out the king, and though the\ncourtiers are for driving Marcolf off with scant courtesy, the king\ninterposes, fulfils his promise, and dismisses his adversary with gifts.\nMarcolf leaves the court, according to one version, with the noble remark,\n_Ubi non est lex, ibi non est rex_.\n\nThis does not exhaust the story, however. In another part of the legend, to\nwhich, again, Zabara offers parallels, Solomon, being out hunting, comes\nsuddenly on Marcolf's hut, and, calling upon him, receives a number of\nriddling answers, which completely foil him, and tor the solution of which\nhe is compelled to have recourse to the proposer. He departs, however, in\ngood humor, desiring Marcolf to come to court the next day and bring a pail\nof fresh milk and curds from the cow. Marcolf fails, and the king condemns\nhim to sit up all night in his company, threatening him with death in the\nmorning, should he fall asleep. This, of course, Marcolf does immediately,\nand he snores aloud. Solomon asks, \"Sleepest thou?\"--And Marcolf replies,\n\"No, I think.\"--\"What thinkest thou?\"--\"That there are as many vertebrae in\nthe hare's tail as in his backbone.\"--The king, assured that he has now\nentrapped his adversary, replies: \"If thou provest not this, thou diest in\nthe morning!\" Over and over again Marcolf snores, and is awakened by\nSolomon, but he is always _thinking_. He gives various answers during the\nnight: There are as many white feathers as black in the magpie.--There is\nnothing whiter than daylight, daylight is whiter than milk.--Nothing can be\nsafely entrusted to a woman.--Nature is stronger than education.\n\nNext day Marcolf proves all his statements. Thus, he places a pan of milk\nin a dark closet, and suddenly calls the king. Solomon steps into the milk,\nsplashes himself, and nearly falls. \"Son of perdition! what does this\nmean?\" roars the monarch. \"May it please Your Majesty,\" says Marcolf,\n\"merely to show you that milk is not whiter than daylight.\" That nature is\nstronger than education, Marcolf proves by throwing three mice, one after\nthe other, before a cat trained to hold a lighted candle in its paws during\nthe king's supper; the cat drops the taper, and chases the mice. Marcolf\nfurther enters into a bitter abuse of womankind, and ends by inducing\nSolomon himself to join in the diatribe. When the king perceives the trick,\nhe turns Marcolf out of court, and eventually orders him to be hanged. One\nfavor is granted to him: he may select his own tree. Marcolf and his guards\ntraverse the valley of Jehoshaphat, pass to Jericho over Jordan, through\nArabia and the Red Sea, but \"never more could Marcolf find a tree that he\nwould choose to hang on.\" By this device, Marcolf escapes from Solomon's\nhands, returns home, and passes the rest of his days in peace.\n\nThe legend, no doubt Oriental in origin, enjoyed popularity in the Middle\nAges largely because it became the frame into which could be placed\ncollections of proverbial lore. Hence, as happened also with the legend of\nthe Queen of Sheba and her riddles, the versions vary considerably as to\nthe actual content of the questions and answers bandied between Solomon and\nMarcolf. In the German and English versions, the proverbs and wisdom are\nlargely Teutonic; in Zabara they are Oriental, and, in particular, Arabic.\nAgain, Marcolf in the French version of Mauclerc is much more completely\nthe reviler of woman. Mauclerc wrote almost contemporaneously with Zabara\n(about 1216-1220, according to Kemble). But, on the other hand, Mauclerc\nhas no story, and his Marcolf is a punning clown rather than a cunning\nsage. Marcolf, who is Solomon's brother in a German version, has no trust\nin a woman even when dead. So, in another version, Marcolf is at once\nsupernaturally cunning, and extremely skeptical as to the morality and\nconstancy of woman. But it is unnecessary to enter into the problem more\nclosely. Suffice it to have established that in Zabara's \"Book of Delight\"\nwe have a hitherto unsuspected adaptation of the Solomon-Marcolf legend.\nZabara handles the legend with rare originality, and even ventures to cast\nhimself for the title role in place of the wisest of kings.\n\nIn the summary of the book which follows, the rhymed prose of the original\nHebrew is reproduced only in one case. This form of poetry is unsuited to\nthe English language. What may have a strikingly pleasing effect in\nOriental speech, becomes, in English, indistinguishable from doggerel. I\nhave not translated at full length, but I have endeavored to render Zabara\naccurately, without introducing thoughts foreign to him.\n\nI have not thought it necessary to give elaborate parallels to Zabara's\nstories, nor to compare minutely the various details of the Marcolf legend\nwith Zabara's poem. On the whole, it may be said that the parallel is\ngeneral rather than specific. I am greatly mistaken, however, if the\ncollection of stories that follows does not prove of considerable interest\nto those engaged in the tracking of fables to their native lairs. Here, in\nZabara, we have an earlier instance than was previously known in Europe, of\nan intertwined series of fables and witticisms, partly Indian, partly\nGreek, partly Semitic, in origin, welded together by the Hebrew poet by\nmeans of a framework. The use of the framework by a writer in Europe in the\nyear 1200 is itself noteworthy. And when it is remembered what the\nframework is, it becomes obvious that the \"Book of Delight\" occupies a\nunique position in medieval literature.\n\n\nTHE GIANT GUEST\n\n  Once on a night, I, Joseph, lay upon my bed; sleep was sweet upon me, my\n  one return for all my toil. Things there are which weary the soul and\n  rest the body, others that weary the body and rest the soul, but sleep\n  brings calm to the body and the soul at once.... While I slept, I dreamt;\n  and a gigantic but manlike figure appeared before me, rousing me from my\n  slumber. \"Arise, thou sleeper, rouse thyself and see the wine while it is\n  red; come, sit thee down and eat of what I provide.\" It was dawn when I\n  hastily rose, and I saw before me wine, bread, and viands; and in the\n  man's hand was a lighted lamp, which cast a glare into every corner. I\n  said, \"What are these, my master?\" \"My wine, my bread, my viands; come,\n  eat and drink with me, for I love thee as one of my mother's sons.\" And I\n  thanked him, but protested: \"I cannot eat or drink till I have prayed to\n  the Orderer of all my ways; for Moses, the choice of the prophets, and\n  the head of those called, hath ordained, 'Eat not with the blood';\n  therefore no son of Israel will eat until he prays for his soul, for the\n  blood is the soul....\"\n\n  Then said he, \"Pray, if such be thy wish\"; and I bathed my hands and\n  face, and prayed. Then I ate of all that was before me, for my soul loved\n  him.... Wine I would not drink, though he pressed me sore. \"Wine,\" I\n  said, \"blindeth the eyes, robbeth the old of wisdom and the body of\n  strength, it revealeth the secrets of friends, and raiseth dissension\n  between brothers.\" The man's anger was roused. \"Why blasphemest thou\n  against wine, and bearest false witness against it? Wine bringeth joy;\n  sorrow and sighing fly before it. It strengtheneth the body, maketh the\n  heart generous, prolongeth pleasure, and deferreth age; faces it maketh\n  shine, and the senses it maketh bright.\"\n\n  \"Agreed, but let thy servant take the water first, as the ancient\n  physicians advise; later I will take the wine, a little, without water.\"\n\n  When I had eaten and drunk with him, I asked for his name and his\n  purpose. \"I come,\" said he, \"from a distant land, from pleasant and\n  fruitful hills, my wisdom is as thine, my laws as thine, my name Enan\n  Hanatash, the son of Arnan ha-Desh.\" I was amazed at the name, unlike any\n  I had ever heard. \"Come with me from this land, and I will tell thee all\n  my secret lore; leave this spot, for they know not here thy worth and thy\n  wisdom. I will take thee to another place, pleasant as a garden, peopled\n  by loving men, wise above all others.\" But I answered: \"My lord, I cannot\n  go. Here are many wise and friendly; while I live, they bear me on the\n  wing of their love; when I die, they will make my death sweet.... I fear\n  thee for thy long limbs, and in thy face I see, clear-cut, the marks of\n  unworthiness; I fear thee, and I will not be thy companion, lest there\n  befall me what befell the leopard with the fox.\" And I told him the\n  story.\n\nIn this manner, illustrative tales are introduced throughout the poem.\nZabara displays rare ingenuity in fitting the illustrations into his\nframework. He proceeds:\n\n\nTHE FOX AND THE LEOPARD\n\n  A leopard once lived in content and plenty; ever he found easy sustenance\n  for his wife and children. Hard by there dwelt his neighbor and friend,\n  the fox. The fox felt in his heart that his life was safe only so long as\n  the leopard could catch other prey, and he planned out a method for\n  ridding himself of this dangerous friendship. Before the evil cometh, say\n  the wise, counsel is good. \"Let me move him hence,\" thought the fox; \"I\n  will lead him to the paths of death; for the sages say, 'If one come to\n  slay thee, be beforehand with him, and slay him instead.'\" Next day the\n  fox went to the leopard, and told him of a spot he had seen, a spot of\n  gardens and lilies, where fawns and does disported themselves, and\n  everything was fair. The leopard went with him to behold this paradise,\n  and rejoiced with exceeding joy. \"Ah,\" thought the fox, \"many a smile\n  ends in a tear.\" But the leopard was charmed, and wished to move to this\n  delightful abode; \"but, first,\" said he, \"I will go to consult my wife,\n  my lifelong comrade, the bride of my youth.\" The fox was sadly\n  disconcerted. Full well he knew the wisdom and the craft of the leopard's\n  wife. \"Nay,\" said he, \"trust not thy wife. A woman's counsel is evil and\n  foolish, her heart hard like marble; she is a plague in a house. Yes, ask\n  her advice, and do the opposite.\".... The leopard told his wife that he\n  was resolved to go. \"Beware of the fox,\" she exclaimed; \"two small\n  animals there are, the craftiest they, by far--the serpent and the fox.\n  Hast thou not heard how the fox bound the lion and slew him with\n  cunning?\" \"How did the fox dare,\" asked the leopard, \"to come near enough\n  to the lion to do it?\"\n\nThe wife than takes up the parable, and cites the incident of\n\n\nTHE FOX AND THE LION\n\n  Then said the leopard's wife: The lion loved the fox, but the fox had no\n  faith in him, and plotted his death. One day the fox went to the lion\n  whining that a pain had seized him in the head. \"I have heard,\" said the\n  fox, \"that physicians prescribe for a headache, that the patient shall be\n  tied up hand and foot.\" The lion assented, and bound up the fox with a\n  cord. \"Ah,\" blithely said the fox, \"my pain is gone.\" Then the lion\n  loosed him. Time passed, and the lion's turn came to suffer in his head.\n  In sore distress he went to the fox, fast as a bird to the snare, and\n  exclaimed, \"Bind me up, brother, that I, too, may be healed, as happened\n  with thee.\" The fox took fresh withes, and bound the lion up. Then he\n  went to fetch great stones, which he cast on the lion's head, and thus\n  crushed him. \"Therefore, my dear leopard,\" concluded his wife, \"trust not\n  the fox, for I fear him and his wiles. If the place he tells of be so\n  fair, why does not the fox take it for himself?\" \"Nay,\" said the leopard,\n  \"thou art a silly prattler. I have often proved my friend, and there is\n  no dross in the silver of his love.\"\n\n\nThe leopard would not hearken to his wife's advice, yet he was somewhat\nmoved by her warning, and he told the fox of his misgiving, adding, that\nhis wife refused to accompany him. \"Ah,\" replied the fox, \"I fear your fate\nwill be like the silversmith's; let me tell you his story, and you will\nknow how silly it is to listen to a wife's counsel.\"\n\n\nTHE SILVERSMITH WHO FOLLOWED HIS WIFE'S COUNSEL\n\n  A silversmith of Babylon, skilful in his craft, was one day at work.\n  \"Listen to me,\" said his wife, \"and I will make thee rich and honored.\n  Our lord, the king, has an only daughter, and he loves her as his life.\n  Fashion for her a silver image of herself, and I will bear it to her as a\n  gift.\" The statue was soon made, and the princess rejoiced at seeing it.\n  She gave a cloak and earrings to the artist's wife, and she showed them\n  to her husband in triumph. \"But where is the wealth and the honor?\" he\n  asked. \"The statue was worth much more than thou hast brought.\" Next day\n  the king saw the statue in his daughter's hand, and his anger was\n  kindled. \"Is it not ordered,\" he cried, \"that none should make an image?\n  Cut off his right hand.\" The king's command was carried out, and daily\n  the smith wept, and exclaimed, \"Take warning from me, ye husbands, and\n  obey not the voice of your wives.\"\n\n\nThe leopard shuddered when he heard this tale; but the fox went on:\n\n\nTHE WOODCUTTER AND THE WOMAN\n\n  A hewer of wood in Damascus was cutting logs, and his wife sat spinning\n  by his side. \"My departed father,\" she said, \"was a better workman than\n  thou. He could chop with both hands: when the right hand was tired, he\n  used the left.\" \"Nay,\" said he, \"no woodcutter does that, he uses his\n  right hand, unless he be a left-handed man.\" \"Ah, my dear,\" she\n  entreated, \"try and do it as my father did.\" The witless wight raised his\n  left hand to hew the wood, but struck his right-hand thumb instead.\n  Without a word he took the axe and smote her on the head, and she died.\n  His deed was noised about; the woodcutter was seized and stoned for his\n  crime. Therefore, continued the fox, I say unto thee, all women are\n  deceivers and trappers of souls. And let me tell you more of these wily\n  stratagems.\n\n\nThe fox reinforces his argument by relating an episode in which a contrast\nis drawn between\n\n\nMAN'S LOVE AND WOMAN'S\n\n  A king of the Arabs, wise and well-advised, was one day seated with his\n  counsellors, who were loud in the praise of women, lauding their virtues\n  and their wisdom. \"Cut short these words,\" said the king. \"Never since\n  the world began has there been a good woman. They love for their own\n  ends.\" \"But,\" pleaded his sages, \"O King, thou art hasty. Women there\n  are, wise and faithful and spotless, who love their husbands and tend\n  their children.\" \"Then,\" said the king, \"here is my city before you:\n  search it through, and find one of the good women of whom you speak.\"\n  They sought, and they found a woman, chaste and wise, fair as the moon\n  and bright as the sun, the wife of a wealthy trader; and the counsellors\n  reported about her to the king. He sent for her husband, and received him\n  with favor. \"I have something for thy ear,\" said the king. \"I have a good\n  and desirable daughter: she is my only child; I will not give her to a\n  king or a prince: let me find a simple, faithful man, who will love her\n  and hold her in esteem. Thou art such a one; thou shalt have her. But\n  thou art married: slay thy wife to-night, and to-morrow thou shalt wed my\n  daughter.\" \"I am unworthy,\" pleaded the man, \"to be the shepherd of thy\n  flock, much less the husband of thy daughter.\" But the king would take no\n  denial. \"But how shall I kill my wife? For fifteen years she has eaten of\n  my bread and drunk of my cup. She is the joy of my heart; her love and\n  esteem grow day by day.\" \"Slay her,\" said the king, \"and be king\n  hereafter.\" He went forth from the presence, downcast and sad, thinking\n  over, and a little shaken by, the king's temptation. At home he saw his\n  wife and his two babes. \"Better,\" he cried, \"is my wife than a kingdom.\n  Cursed be all kings who tempt men to sip sorrow, calling it joy.\" The\n  king waited his coming in vain; and then he sent messengers to the man's\n  shop. When he found that the man's love had conquered his lust, he said,\n  with a sneer, \"Thou art no man: thy heart is a woman's.\"\n\n  In the evening the king summoned the woman secretly. She came, and the\n  king praised her beauty and her wisdom. His heart, he said, was burning\n  with love for her, but he could not wed another man's wife. \"Slay thy\n  husband to-night, and tomorrow be my queen.\" With a smile, the woman\n  consented; and the king gave her a sword made of tin, for he knew the\n  weak mind of woman. \"Strike once,\" he said to her; \"the sword is sharp;\n  you need not essay a second blow.\" She gave her husband a choice repast,\n  and wine to make him drunken. As he lay asleep, she grasped the sword and\n  struck him on the head; and the tin bent, and he awoke. With some ado she\n  quieted him, and he fell asleep again. Next morning the king summoned\n  her, and asked whether she had obeyed his orders. \"Yes,\" said she, \"but\n  thou didst frustrate thine own counsel.\" Then the king assembled his\n  sages, and bade her tell all that she had attempted; and the husband,\n  too, was fetched, to tell his story. \"Did I not tell you to cease your\n  praises of women?\" asked the king, triumphantly.\n\n\nIN DISPRAISE OF WOMAN\n\nThe fox follows up these effective narratives with a lengthy string of\nwell-worn quotations against women, of which the following are a few:\nSocrates, the wise and saintly, hated and despised them. His wife was thin\nand short. They asked him, \"How could a man like you choose such a woman\nfor your wrife?\" \"I chose,\" said Socrates, \"of the evil the least possible\namount.\" \"Why, then, do you look on beautiful women?\" \"Neither,\" said\nSocrates, \"from love nor from desire, but to admire the handiwork of God in\ntheir outward form. It is within that they are foul.\" Once he was walking\nby the way, and he saw a woman hanging from a fig-tree. \"Would,\" said\nSocrates, \"that all the fruit were like this.\"--A nobleman built a new\nhouse, and wrote over the door, \"Let nothing evil pass this way.\" \"Then how\ndoes his wife go in?\" asked Diogenes.--\"Your enemy is dead,\" said one to\nanother. \"I would rather hear that he had got married,\" was the reply.\n\n\"So much,\" said the fox to the leopard, \"I have told thee that thou mayest\nknow how little women are to be trusted. They deceive men in life, and\nbetray them in death.\" \"But,\" queried the leopard, \"what could my wife do\nto harm me after I am dead?\" \"Listen,\" rejoined the fox, \"and I will tell\nthee of a deed viler than any I have narrated hitherto.\"\n\n\nTHE WIDOW AND HER HUSBAND'S CORPSE\n\n  The kings of Rome, when they hanged a man, denied him burial until the\n  tenth day. That the friends and relatives of the victim might not steal\n  the body, an officer of high rank was set to watch the tree by night. If\n  the body was stolen, the officer was hung up in its place. A knight of\n  high degree once rebelled against the king, and he was hanged on a tree.\n  The officer on guard was startled at midnight to hear a piercing shriek\n  of anguish from a little distance; he mounted his horse, and rode towards\n  the voice, to discover the meaning. He came to an open grave, where the\n  common people were buried, and saw a weeping woman loud in laments for\n  her departed spouse. He sent her home with words of comfort, accompanying\n  her to the city gate. He then returned to his post. Next night the same\n  scene was repeated, and as the officer spoke his gentle soothings to her,\n  a love for him was born in her heart, and her dead husband was forgotten.\n  And as they spoke words of love, they neared the tree, and lo! the body\n  that the officer was set to watch was gone. \"Begone,\" he said, \"and I\n  will fly, or my life must pay the penalty of my dalliance.\" \"Fear not, my\n  lord,\" she said, \"we can raise my husband from his grave and hang him\n  instead of the stolen corpse.\" \"But I fear the Prince of Death. I cannot\n  drag a man from his grave.\" \"I alone will do it then,\" said the woman; \"I\n  will dig him out; it is lawful to cast a dead man from the grave, to keep\n  a live man from being thrown in.\" \"Alas!\" cried the officer, when she had\n  done the fearsome deed, \"the corpse I watched was bald, your husband has\n  thick hair; the change will be detected.\" \"Nay,\" said the woman, \"I will\n  make him bald,\" and she tore his hair out, with execrations, and they\n  hung him on the tree. But a few days passed and the pair were married.\n\n\nAnd now the leopard interlude nears it close. Zabara narrates the\n_denouement_ in these terms:\n\n\nTHE LEOPARD'S FATE\n\n  The leopard's bones rattled while he listened to this tale. Angrily he\n  addressed his wife, \"Come, get up and follow me, or I will slay thee.\"\n  Together they went with their young ones, and the fox was their guide,\n  and they reached the promised place, and encamped by the waters. The fox\n  bade them farewell, his head laughing at his tail. Seven days were gone,\n  when the rains descended, and in the deep of the night the river rose and\n  engulfed the leopard family in their beds. \"Woe is me,\" sighed the\n  leopard, \"that I did not listen to my wife.\" And he died before his time.\n\n\nTHE JOURNEY BEGUN BY JOSEPH AND ENAN\n\nThe author has now finished his protest against his visitor's design, to\nmake him join him on a roving expedition. Enan glares, and asks, \"Am I a\nfox, and thou a leopard, that I should fear thee?\" Then his note changes,\nand his tone becomes coaxing and bland. Joseph cannot resist his\nfascination. Together they start, riding on their asses. Then says Enan\nunto Joseph, \"Carry thou me, or I will carry thee.\" \"But,\" continues the\nnarrator, Joseph, \"we were both riding on our asses. 'What dost thou mean?\nOur asses carry us both. Explain thy words.'--'It is the story of the\npeasant with the king's officer.'\"\n\n\nTHE CLEVER GIRL AND THE KING'S DREAM\n\n  A king with many wives dreamt that he saw a monkey among them; his face\n  fell, and his spirit was troubled. \"This is none other,\" said he, \"than a\n  foreign king, who will invade my realm, and take my harem for his spoil.\"\n  One of his officers told the king of a clever interpreter of dreams, and\n  the king despatched him to find out the meaning of his ominous vision. He\n  set forth on his mule, and met a countryman riding. \"Carry me,\" said the\n  officer, \"or I will carry thee.\" The peasant was amazed. \"But our asses\n  carry us both,\" he said. \"Thou tiller of the earth,\" said the officer,\n  \"thou art earth, and eatest earth. There is snow on the hill,\" continued\n  the officer, and as the month was Tammuz, the peasant laughed. They\n  passed a road with wheat growing on each side. \"A horse blind in one eye\n  has passed here,\" said the officer, \"loaded with oil on one side, and\n  with vinegar on the other.\" They saw a field richly covered with\n  abounding corn, and the peasant praised it. \"Yes,\" said the officer, \"if\n  the corn is not already eaten.\" They went on a little further and saw a\n  lofty tower. \"Well fortified,\" remarked the peasant. \"Fortified without,\n  if not ruined within,\" replied the officer. A funeral passed them. \"As to\n  this old man whom they are burying,\" said the officer, \"I cannot tell\n  whether he is alive or dead.\" And the peasant thought his companion mad\n  to make such unintelligible remarks. They neared a village where the\n  peasant lived, and he invited the officer to stay with him overnight.\n\n  The peasant, in the dead of the night, told his wife and daughters of the\n  foolish things the officer had said, though he looked quite wise. \"Nay,\"\n  said the peasant's youngest daughter, a maiden of fifteen years, \"the man\n  is no fool; thou didst not comprehend the depth of his meaning. The\n  tiller of the earth eats food grown from the earth. By the 'snow on the\n  hill' is meant thy white beard (on thy head); thou shouldst have\n  answered, 'Time caused it.' The horse blind in one eye he knew had\n  passed, because he saw that the wheat was eaten on one side of the way,\n  and not on the other; and as for its burden, he saw that the vinegar had\n  parched the dust, while the oil had not. His saying, 'Carry me, or I will\n  carry thee,' signifies that he who beguiles the way with stories and\n  proverbs and riddles, carries his companion, relieving him from the\n  tedium of the journey. The corn of the field you passed,\" continued the\n  girl, \"was already eaten if the owner was poor, and had sold it before it\n  was reaped. The lofty and stately tower was in ruins within, if it was\n  without necessary stores. About the funeral, too, his remark was true. If\n  the old man left a son, he was still alive; if he was childless, he was,\n  indeed, dead.\"\n\n  In the morning, the girl asked her father to give the officer the food\n  she would prepare. She gave him thirty eggs, a dish full of milk, and a\n  whole loaf. \"Tell me,\" said she, \"how many days old the month is; is the\n  moon new, and the sun at its zenith?\" Her father ate two eggs, a little\n  of the loaf, and sipped some of the milk, and gave the rest to the\n  officer. \"Tell thy daughter,\" he said, \"the sun is not full, neither is\n  the moon, for the month is two days old.\" \"Ah,\" laughed the peasant, as\n  he told his daughter the answers of the officer, \"ah, my girl, I told you\n  he was a fool, for we are now in the middle of the month.\" \"Did you eat\n  anything of what I gave you?\" asked the girl of her father. And he told\n  her of the two eggs, the morsel of bread, and the sip of milk that he had\n  taken. \"Now I know,\" said the girl, \"of a surety that the man is very\n  wise.\" And the officer, too, felt that she was wise, and so he told her\n  the king's dream. She went back with him to the king, for she told the\n  officer that she could interpret the vision, but would do so only to the\n  king in person, not through a deputy. \"Search thy harem,\" said the girl,\n  \"and thou wilt find among thy women a man disguised in female garb.\" He\n  searched, and found that her words were true. The man was slain, and the\n  women, too, and the peasant's daughter became the king's sole queen, for\n  he never took another wife besides her.\n\n\nTHE NIGHT'S REST\n\nThus Joseph and the giant Enan journey on, and they stay overnight in a\nvillage inn. Then commences a series of semi-medical wrangles, which fill\nup a large portion of the book. Joseph demands food and wine, and Enan\ngives him a little of the former and none of the latter. \"Be still,\" says\nEnan, \"too much food is injurious to a traveller weary from the way. But\nyou cannot be so very hungry, or you would fall to on the dry bread. But\nwine with its exciting qualities is bad for one heated by a long day's\nride.\" Even their asses are starved, and Joseph remarks sarcastically,\n\"Tomorrow it will be, indeed, a case of carry-thou-me-or-I-thee, for our\nasses will not be able to bear us.\" They sleep on the ground, without couch\nor cover. At dawn Enan rouses him, and when he sees that his ass is still\nalive, he exclaims, \"Man and beast thou savest, O Lord!\" The ass, by the\nway, is a lineal descendant of Balaam's animal.\n\nThey proceed, and the asses nod and bow as though they knew how to pray.\nEnan weeps as they near a town. \"Here,\" says he, \"my dear friend died, a\nman of wisdom and judgment. I will tell thee a little of his cleverness.\"\n\n\nTHE DISHONEST SINGER AND THE WEDDING ROBES\n\n  A man once came to him crying in distress. His only daughter was\n  betrothed to a youth, and the bridegroom and his father came to the\n  bride's house on the eve of the wedding, to view her ornaments and\n  beautiful clothes. When the bride's parents rose next day, everything had\n  vanished, jewels and trousseau together. They were in despair, for they\n  had lavished all their possessions on their daughter. My friend\n  [continued Enan] went back with the man to examine the scene of the\n  robbery. The walls of the house were too high to scale. He found but one\n  place where entry was possible, a crevice in a wall in which an orange\n  tree grew, and its edge was covered with thorns and prickles. Next door\n  lived a musician, Paltiel ben Agan [or Adan] by name, and my late friend,\n  the judge, interviewed him, and made him strip. His body was covered with\n  cuts and scratches; his guilt was discovered, and the dowry returned to\n  the last shoe-latchet. \"My son,\" said he, \"beware of singers, for they\n  are mostly thieves; trust no word of theirs, for they are liars; they\n  dally with women, and long after other people's money. They fancy they\n  are clever, but they know not their left hand from their right; they\n  raise their hands all day and call, but know not to whom. A singer stands\n  at his post, raised above all other men, and he thinks he is as lofty as\n  his place. He constantly emits sounds, which mount to his brain, and dry\n  it up; hence he is so witless.\"\n\nThen Enan tells Joseph another story of his friend the judge's sagacity:\n\n\nTHE NOBLEMAN AND THE NECKLACE\n\n  A man lived in Cordova, Jacob by name, the broker; he was a man of tried\n  honesty. Once a jewelled necklet was entrusted to him for sale by the\n  judge, the owner demanding five hundred pieces of gold as its price.\n  Jacob had the chain in his hand when he met a nobleman, one of the king's\n  intimate friends. The nobleman offered four hundred pieces for the\n  necklet, which Jacob refused. \"Come with me to my house, and I will\n  consider the price,\" said the would-be purchaser. The Jew accompanied him\n  home, and the nobleman went within. Jacob waited outside the gate till\n  the evening, but no one came out. He passed a sleepless night with his\n  wife and children, and next morning returned to the nobleman. \"Buy the\n  necklace,\" said he, \"or return it.\" The nobleman denied all knowledge of\n  the jewels, so Jacob went to the judge. He sent for the nobles, to\n  address them as was his wont, and as soon as they had arrived, he said to\n  the thief's servant, \"Take your master's shoe and go to his wife. Show\n  the shoe and say, Your lord bids me ask you for the necklace he bought\n  yesterday, as he wishes to exhibit its beauty to his friends.\" The wife\n  gave the servant the ornament, the theft was made manifest, and it was\n  restored to its rightful owner.\n\n\nAnd Enan goes on:\n\nTHE SON AND THE SLAVE\n\n  A merchant of measureless wealth had an only son, who, when he grew up,\n  said, \"Father, send me on a voyage, that I may trade and see foreign\n  lands, and talk with men of wisdom, to learn from their words.\" The\n  father purchased a ship, and sent him on a voyage, with much wealth and\n  many friends. The father was left at home with his slave, in whom he put\n  his trust, and who filled his son's place in position and affection.\n  Suddenly a pain seized him in the heart, and he died without directing\n  how his property was to be divided. The slave took possession of\n  everything; no one in the town knew whether he was the man's slave or his\n  son. Ten years passed, and the real son returned, with his ship laden\n  with wealth. As they approached the harbor, the ship was wrecked. They\n  had cast everything overboard, in a vain effort to save it; finally, the\n  crew and the passengers were all thrown into the sea. The son reached the\n  shore destitute, and returned to his father's house; but the slave drove\n  him away, denying his identity. They went before the judge. \"Find the\n  loathly merchant's grave,\" he said to the slave, \"and bring me the dead\n  man's bones. I shall burn them for his neglect to leave a will, thus\n  rousing strife as to his property.\" The slave started to obey, but the\n  son stayed him. \"Keep all,\" said he, \"but disturb not my father's bones.\"\n  \"Thou art the son,\" said the judge; \"take this other as thy lifelong\n  slave.\"\n\n\nJoseph and Enan pass to the city of Tobiah. At the gate they are accosted\nby an old and venerable man, to whom they explain that they have been on\nthe way for seven days. He invites them to his home, treats them\nhospitably, and after supper tells them sweet and pleasant tales, \"among\nhis words an incident wonderful to the highest degree.\" This wonderful\nstory is none other than a distorted version of the Book of Tobit. I have\ntranslated this in full, and in rhymed prose, as a specimen of the\noriginal.\n\n\nTHE STORY OF TOBIT\n\n  Here, in the days of the saints of old, in the concourse of elders of age\n  untold, there lived a man upright and true, in all his doings good\n  fortune he knew. Rich was he and great, his eyes looked ever straight:\n  Tobiah, the son of Ahiah, a man of Dan, helped the poor, to each gave of\n  his store; whene'er one friendless died, the shroud he supplied, bore the\n  corpse to the grave, nor thought his money to save. The men of the place,\n  a sin-ruled race, slandering, cried, \"O King, these Jewish knaves open\n  our graves! Our bones they burn, into charms to turn, health to earn.\"\n  The king angrily spoke: \"I will weighten their yoke, and their villainy\n  repay; all the Jews who, from to-day, die in this town, to the pit take\n  down, to the pit hurry all, without burial. Who buries a Jew, the hour\n  shall rue; bitter his pang, on the gallows shall he hang.\" Soon a\n  sojourner did die, and no friends were by; but good Tobiah the corpse did\n  lave, and dress it for the grave. Some sinners saw the deed, to the judge\n  the word they gave, who Tobiah's death decreed. Forth the saint they\n  draw, to hang him as by law. But now they near the tree, lo! no man can\n  see, a blindness falls on all, and Tobiah flies their thrall. Many\n  friends his loss do weep, but homewards he doth creep, God's mercies to\n  narrate, and his own surprising fate, \"Praise ye the Lord, dear friends,\n  for His mercy never ends, and to His servants good intends.\" Fear the\n  king distressed, his heart beat at his breast, new decrees his fear\n  expressed. \"Whoe'er a Jew shall harm,\" the king cried in alarm, \"touching\n  his person or personalty, touches the apple of my eye; let no man do this\n  wrong, or I'll hang him 'mid the throng, high though his rank, and his\n  lineage long.\" And well he kept his word, he punished those who erred;\n  but on the Jews his mercies shone, the while he rilled the throne.\n\n  Once lay the saint at rest, and glanced upon the nest of a bird within\n  his room. Ah! cruel was his doom! Into his eye there went the sparrow's\n  excrement. Tobiah's sight was gone! He had an only son, whom thus he now\n  addressed: \"When business ventures pressed, I passed from clime to clime.\n  Well I recall the time, when long I dwelt in Ind, of wealth full stores\n  to find. But perilous was the road, and entrusted I my load with one of\n  honest fame, Peer Hazeman his name. And now list, beloved son, go out and\n  hire thee one, thy steps forthwith to guide unto my old friend's side. I\n  know his love's full stream, his trust he will redeem; when heareth he my\n  plight, when seeth he thy sight, then will he do the right.\" The youth\n  found whom he sought, a man by travel taught, the ways of Ind he knew; he\n  knew them through and through, he knew them up and down, as a townsman\n  knows his town. He brought him to his sire, who straightway did inquire,\n  \"Knowest thou an Indian spot, a city named Tobot?\"--\"Full well I know the\n  place, I spent a two years' space in various enterprise; its people all\n  are wise, and honest men and true.\"--\"What must I give to you,\" asked\n  Tobiah of his guest,\" to take my son in quest?\"--\"Of pieces pure of\n  gold, full fifty must be told.\"--\"I'll pay you that with joy; start forth\n  now with my boy.\" A script the son did write, which Tobiah did indite,\n  and on his son bestow a sign his friend would know. The father kissed his\n  son, \"In peace,\" said he, \"get gone; may God my life maintain till thou\n  art come again.\" The youth and guide to Tobot hied, and reached anon Peer\n  Hazeman. \"Why askest thou my name?\" Straight the answer came, \"Tobiah is\n  my sire, and he doth inquire of thy health and thy household's.\" Then the\n  letter he unfolds. The contents Peer espies, every doubt flies, he\n  regards the token with no word spoken. \"'Tis the son of my friend, who\n  greeting thus doth send. Is it well with him? Say.\"--\"Well, well with him\n  alway.\"--\"Then dwell thou here a while, and hours sweet beguile with the\n  tales which thou wilt tell of him I loved so well.\"--\"Nay, I must\n  forthwith part to soothe my father's heart. I am his only trust, return\n  at once I must.\" Peer Hazeman agrees the lad to release; gives him all\n  his father's loan, and gifts adds of his own, raiment and two slaves. To\n  music's pleasant staves, the son doth homeward wend. By the shore of the\n  sea went the lad full of glee, and the wind blew a blast, and a fish was\n  upward cast. Then hastened the guide to ope the fish's side, took the\n  liver and the gall, for cure of evil's thrall: liver to give demons\n  flight, gall to restore men's sight. The youth begged his friend these\n  specifics to lend, then went he on his way to where his sick sire lay.\n  Then spake the youth to his father all the truth. \"Send not away the\n  guide without pay.\" The son sought the man, through the city he ran, but\n  the man had disappeared. Said Tobiah, \"Be not afeared, 'twas Elijah the\n  seer, whom God sent here to stand by our side, our needs to provide.\" He\n  bathed both his eyes with the gall of the prize, and his sight was\n  restored by the grace of the Lord.\n\n  Then said he to his son, \"Now God His grace has shown, dost thou not\n  yearn to do a deed in turn? My niece forthwith wed.\"--\"But her husbands\n  three are dead, each gave up his life as each made her his wife; to her\n  shame and to her sorrow, they survived not to the morrow.\"--\"Nay, a demon\n  is the doer of this harm to every wooer. My son, obey my wish, take the\n  liver of the fish, and burn it in full fume, at the door of her\n  room,'twill give the demon his doom.\" At his father's command, with his\n  life in his hand, the youth sought the maid, and wedded her unafraid. For\n  long timid hours his prayer Tobiah pours; but the incense was alight, the\n  demon took to flight, and safe was all the night. Long and happily wed,\n  their lives sweetly sped.\n\nTheir entertainer tells Joseph and Enan another story of piety connected\nwith the burial of the dead:\n\n\nTHE PARALYTICS TOUCHSTONE OF VIRTUE\n\n  Once upon a time there lived a saintly man, whose abode was on the way to\n  the graveyard. Every funeral passed his door, and he would ever rise and\n  join in the procession, and assist those engaged in the burial. In his\n  old age his feet were paralyzed, and he could not leave his bed; the dead\n  passed his doors, and he sighed that he could not rise to display his\n  wonted respect. Then prayed he to the Lord: \"O Lord, who givest eyes to\n  the blind and feet to the lame, hear me from the corner of my sorrowful\n  bed. Grant that when a pious man is borne to his grave, I may be able to\n  rise to my feet.\" An angel's voice in a vision answered him, \"Lo, thy\n  prayer is heard.\" And so, whenever a pious man was buried, he rose and\n  prayed for his soul. On a day, there died one who had grown old in the\n  world's repute, a man of excellent piety, yet the lame man could not rise\n  as his funeral passed. Next day died a quarrelsome fellow of ill fame for\n  his notorious sins, and when his body was carried past the lame man's\n  door, the paralytic was able to stand. Every one was amazed, for hitherto\n  the lame man's rising or resting had been a gauge of the departed's\n  virtue. Two sage men resolved to get to the bottom of the mystery. They\n  interviewed the wife of the fellow who had died second. The wife\n  confirmed the worst account of him, but added: \"He had an old father,\n  aged one hundred years, and he honored and served him. Every day he\n  kissed his hand, gave him drink, stripped and dressed him when, from old\n  age, he could not turn himself on his couch; daily he brought ox and lamb\n  bones, from which he drew the marrow, and made dainty foods of it.\" And\n  the people knew that honoring his father had atoned for his\n  transgressions. Then the two inquisitors went to the house of the pious\n  man, before whom the paralytic had been unable to rise. His widow gave\n  him an excellent character; he was gentle and pious; prayed three times a\n  day, and at midnight rose and went to a special chamber to say his\n  prayers. No one had ever seen the room but himself, as he ever kept the\n  key in his bosom. The two inquisitors opened the door of this chamber,\n  and found a small box hidden in the window-sill; they opened the box, and\n  found in it a golden figure bearing a crucifix. Thus the man had been one\n  of those who do the deeds of Zimri, and expect the reward of Phineas.\n\n\nTABLE TALK\n\nJoseph and Enan then retire to rest, and their sleep is sweet and long. By\nstrange and devious ways they continue their journey on the morrow,\nstarting at dawn. Again they pass the night at the house of one of Enan's\nfriends, Rabbi Judah, a ripe old sage and hospitable, who welcomes them\ncordially, feeds them bountifully, gives them spiced dishes, wine of the\ngrape and the pomegranate, and then tells stories and proverbs \"from the\nbooks of the Arabs.\"\n\n  A man said to a sage, \"Thou braggest of thy wisdom, but it came from me.\"\n  \"Yes,\" replied the sage, \"and it forgot its way back.\"--Who is the worst\n  of men? He who is good in his own esteem.--Said a king to a sage, \"Sweet\n  would be a king's reign if it lasted forever.\" \"Had such been your\n  predecessor's lot,\" replied the wise man, \"how would you have reached the\n  throne?\"--A man laid a complaint before the king; the latter drove the\n  suppliant out with violence. \"I entered with one complaint,\" sighed the\n  man, \"I leave with two.\"--What is style? Be brief and do not repeat\n  yourself.--The king once visited a nobleman's house, and asked the\n  latter's son, \"Whose house is better, your father's or mine?\" \"My\n  father's,\" said the boy, \"while the king is in it.\"--A king put on a new\n  robe, which did not become him. \"It is not good to wear,\" said a\n  courtier, \"but it is good to put on.\" The king put the robe on him.--A\n  bore visited a sick man. \"What ails thee?\" he asked. \"Thy presence,\" said\n  the sufferer.--A man of high lineage abused a wise man of lowly birth.\n  \"My lineage is a blot on me,\" retorted a sage, \"thou art a blot on thy\n  lineage.\"--To another who reviled him for his lack of noble ancestry, he\n  retorted, \"Thy noble line ends with thee, with me mine begins.\"--Diogenes\n  and Dives were attacked by robbers. \"Woe is me,\" said Dives, \"if they\n  recognize me.\" \"Woe is me,\" said Diogenes, \"if they do not recognize\n  me.\"--A philosopher sat by the target at which the archers were shooting.\n  \"'Tis the safest spot,\" said he.--An Arab's brother died. \"Why did he\n  die?\" one asked. \"Because he lived,\" was the answer.--\"What hast thou\n  laid up for the cold weather?\" they asked a poor fellow. \"Shivering,\" he\n  answered.--Death is the dread of the rich and the hope of the\n  poor.--Which is the best of the beasts? Woman.--Hide thy virtues as thou\n  hidest thy faults.--A dwarf brought a complaint to his king. \"No one,\"\n  said the king, \"would hurt such a pigmy.\" \"But,\" retorted the dwarf, \"my\n  injurer is smaller than I am.\"--A dolt sat on a stone. \"Lo, a blockhead\n  on a block,\" said the passers-by.--\"What prayer make you by night?\" they\n  asked a sage. \"Fear God by day, and by night you will sleep, not\n  pray.\"--Rather a wise enemy than a foolish friend.--Not everyone who\n  flees escapes, not everyone who begs has need.--A sage had weak eyes.\n  \"Heal them,\" said they. \"To see what?\" he rejoined.--A fool quarrelled\n  with a sage. Said the former, \"For every word of abuse I hear from thee,\n  I will retort ten.\" \"Nay,\" replied the other, \"for every ten words of\n  abuse I hear from thee, I will not retort one.\"--An honest man cannot\n  catch a thief.--All things grow with time except grief.--The character of\n  the sent tells the character of the sender.--What is man's best means of\n  concealment? Speech.--\"Why walkest thou so slowly?\" asked the lad of the\n  greybeard. \"My years are a chain to my feet: and thy years are preparing\n  thy chain.\"--Do not swallow poison because you know an antidote.--The\n  king heard a woman at prayer. \"O God,\" she said, \"remove this king from\n  us.\" \"And put a better in his stead,\" added the eavesdropping\n  monarch.--Take measure for this life as though thou wilt live forever;\n  prepare for the next world as though thou diest to-morrow.--\"He will\n  die,\" said the doctor, but the patient recovered. \"You have returned from\n  the other world,\" said the doctor when he met the man. \"Yes,\" said the\n  latter, \"and the doctors have a bad time there. But fear not. Thou art no\n  doctor.\"--Three things weary: a lamp that will not burn, a messenger that\n  dawdles, a table spread and waiting.\n\nThen follows a string of sayings about _threes_:\n\n  Reason rules the body, wisdom is the pilot, law is its light. Might is\n  the lion's, burdens are the ox's, wisdom is man's; spinning the spider's,\n  building the bee's, making stores the ant's. In three cases lying is\n  permissible: in war, in reconciling man to man, in appeasing one's wife.\n\nTheir host concludes his lengthy list of sententious remarks thus:\n\n  A king had a signet ring, on which were engraved the words, \"Thou hast\n  bored me: rise!\" and when a guest stayed too long, he showed the visitor\n  the ring.-The heir of a wealthy man squandered his money, and a sage saw\n  him eating bread and salted olives. \"Hadst thou thought that this would\n  be thy food, this would not be thy food.\"-Marry no widow. She will lament\n  her first husband's death.\n\n\nTHE CITY OF ENAN\n\nThis was the signal for the party to retire to rest.\n\nNext day the wayfarers reach Enan's own city, the place he had all along\ndesired Joseph to see. He shows Joseph his house; but the latter replies,\n\"I crave food, not sight-seeing.\" \"Surely,\" says Enan, \"the more hurry the\nless speed.\" At last the table is spread; the cloth is ragged, the dishes\ncontain unleavened bread, such as there is no pleasure in eating, and there\nis a dish of herbs and vinegar. Then ensues a long wrangle, displaying much\nmedical knowledge, on the physiology of herbs and vegetables, on the eating\nof flesh, much and fast. Enan makes sarcastic remarks on Joseph's rapacious\nappetite. He tells Joseph, he must not eat this or that. A joint of lamb is\nbrought on the table, Enan says the head is bad, and the feet, and the\nflesh, and the fat; so that Joseph has no alternative but to eat it all. \"I\nfear that what happened to the king, will befall thee,\" said Enan. \"Let me\nfeed first,\" said Joseph; \"then you can tell me what happened to the king.\"\n\n\nTHE PRINCESS AND THE ROSE\n\n  A gardener came to his garden in the winter. It was the month of Tebet,\n  and he found some roses in flower. He rejoiced at seeing them; and he\n  plucked them, and put them on a precious dish, carried them to the king,\n  and placed them before him. The king was surprised, and the flowers were\n  goodly in his sight; and he gave the gardener one hundred pieces of gold.\n  Then said the king in his heart, \"To-day we will make merry, and have a\n  feast.\" All his servants and faithful ministers were invited to rejoice\n  over the joy of the roses. And he sent for his only daughter, then with\n  child; and she stretched forth her hand to take a rose, and a serpent\n  that lay in the dish leapt at her and startled her, and she died before\n  night.\n\n\nQUESTION AND ANSWER\n\nBut Joseph's appetite was not to be stayed by such tales as this. So Enan\ntells him of the \"Lean Fox and the Hole\"; but in vain. \"Open not thy mouth\nto Satan,\" says Joseph. \"I fear for my appetite, that it become smaller\";\nand goes on eating.\n\nNow Enan tries another tack: he will question him, and put him through his\npaces. But Joseph yawns and protests that he has eaten too much to keep his\neyes open.\n\n  \"How canst thou sleep,\" said Enan, \"when thou hast eaten everything,\n  fresh and stale? As I live, thou shalt not seek thy bed until I test thy\n  wisdom-until I prove whether all this provender has entered the stomach\n  of a wise man or a fool.\"\n\nThen follows an extraordinary string of anatomical, medical, scientific,\nand Talmudic questions about the optic nerves; the teeth; why a man lowers\nhis head when thinking over things he has never known, but raises his head\nwhen thinking over what he once knew but has forgotten; the physiology of\nthe digestive organs, the physiology of laughter; why a boy eats more than\na man; why it is harder to ascend a hill than to go down; why snow is\nwhite; why babies have no teeth; why children's first set of teeth fall\nout; why saddest tears are saltest; why sea water is heavier than fresh;\nwhy hail descends in summer; why the sages said that bastards are mostly\nclever. To these questions, which Enan pours out in a stream, Joseph\nreadily gives answers. But now Enan is hoist with his own petard.\n\n  \"I looked at him,\" continues the poet, \"and sleep entrapped his eyes, and\n  his eyelids kissed the irides. Ah! I laughed in my heart. Now I will talk\n  to him, and puzzle him as he has been puzzling me. He shall not sleep, as\n  he would not let me sleep. 'My lord,' said I, 'let me now question thee.'\n  'I am sleepy,' said he, 'but ask on.' 'What subject shall I choose?' I\n  said. 'Any subject,' he replied; 'of all knowledge I know the half.'\"\n  Joseph asks him astronomical, musical, logical, arithmetical questions;\n  to all of which Enan replies, \"I do not know.\" \"But,\" protests Joseph,\n  \"how couldst thou assert that thou knewest half of every subject, when it\n  is clear thou knowest nothing?\" \"Exactly,\" says Enan, \"for Aristotle\n  says, 'He who says, I do not know, has already attained the half of\n  knowledge.'\"\n\nBut he says he knows medicine; so Joseph proceeds to question him. Soon he\ndiscovers that Enan is again deceiving him; and he abuses Enan roundly for\nhis duplicity.\n\nEnan at length is moved to retort.\n\n  \"I wonder at thy learning,\" says Enan, \"but more at thy appetite.\" Then\n  the lamp goes out, the servant falls asleep, and they are left in\n  darkness till the morning. Then Joseph demands his breakfast, and goes\n  out to see his ass. The ass attempts to bite Joseph, who strikes it, and\n  the ass speaks. \"I am one of the family of Balaam's ass,\" says the\n  animal. \"But I am not Balaam,\" says Joseph, \"to divine that thou hast\n  eaten nothing all night.\" The servant asserts that he fed the ass, but\n  the animal had gobbled up everything, his appetite being equal to his\n  owner's. But Joseph will not believe this, and Enan is deeply hurt.\n  \"Peace!\" he shouts, and his eyes shoot flames, and his nostrils distil\n  smoke. \"Peace, cease thy folly, or, as I live, and my ancestor Asmodeus,\n  I will seize thee with my little finger, and will show thee the city of\n  David.\"\n\n  In timid tones Joseph asks him, \"Who is this Asmodeus, thy kinsman?\"\n\n\nENAN REVEALS HIMSELF\n\n  \"Asmodeus,\" said Enan, \"the great prince who, on his wing, bore Solomon\n  from his kingdom to a distant strand.\" \"Woe is me,\" I moaned, \"I thought\n  thee a friend; now thou art a fiend. Why didst thou hide thy nature? Why\n  didst thou conceal thy descent? Why hast thou taken me from my home in\n  guile?\" \"Nay,\" said Enan, \"where was thy understanding? I gave thee my\n  name, thou shouldst have inverted it\" [i.e., transpose _Desh_ to _Shed_.\n  Enan at the beginning of the tale had announced himself as _ha-Desh_, he\n  now explains that meant _ha-Shed_ = the demon]. Then Enan gives his\n  pedigree: \"I am Enan, the Satan, son of Arnan the Demon, son of the Place\n  of Death, son of Rage, son of Death's Shadow, son of Terror, son of\n  Trembling, son of Destruction, son of Extinction, son of Evil-name, son\n  of Mocking, son of Plague, son of Deceit, son of Injury, son of\n  Asmodeus.\"\n\nNevertheless Enan quiets Joseph's fears, and promises that no harm shall\nbefall him. He goes through Enan's city, sees wizards and sorcerers, and\nsinners and fools, all giants.\n\n\nENAN'S FRIEND AND HIS DAUGHTER\n\n  Then Enan introduces his own especial friend. \"He is good and wise,\" said\n  Enan, \"despite his tall stature. He shows his goodness in hating the wise\n  and loving fools; he is generous, for he will give a beggar a crust of\n  dry bread, and make him pay for it; he knows medicine, for he can tell\n  that if a man is buried, he either has been sick, or has had an accident;\n  he knows astronomy, for he can tell that it is day when the sun shines,\n  and night when the stars appear; he knows arithmetic, for he can tell\n  that one and one make two; he knows mensuration, for he can tell how many\n  handbreadths his belly measures; he knows music, for he can tell the\n  difference between the barking of a dog and the braying of an ass.\" \"But,\n  said I,\" continues Joseph, \"how canst thou be the friend of such a one?\n  Accursed is he, accursed his master.\" \"Nay,\" answered Enan, \"I love him\n  not; I know his vile nature: 'tis his daughter that binds me to him, for\n  she, with her raven locks and dove's eyes and lily cheeks, is fair beyond\n  my power to praise.\" Yet I warned him against marrying the daughter of an\n  uneducated man, an Am ha-Arez. Then follows a compilation of passages\n  directed against ignorance. \"Ah!\" cries Enan, \"your warning moves me. My\n  love for her is fled. Thou fearest God and lovest me, my friend. What is\n  a friend? One heart in two bodies. Then find me another wife, one who is\n  beautiful and good. Worse than a plague is a bad woman. Listen to what\n  once befell me with such a one.\"\n\nThereupon Enan introduces the last of the stories incorporated into the\nbook:\n\n\nTHE WASHERWOMAN WHO DID THE DEVIL'S WORK\n\n  Once upon a time, in my wanderings to and fro upon the earth, I came to a\n  city whose inhabitants dwelt together, happy, prosperous, and secure. I\n  made myself well acquainted with the place and the people, but, despite\n  all my efforts, I was unable to entrap a single one. \"This is no place\n  for me,\" I said, \"I had better return to my own country.\" I left the\n  city, and, journeying on, came across a river, at the brink of which I\n  seated myself. Scarcely had I done so, when a woman appeared bearing her\n  garments to be washed in the river. She looked at me, and asked, \"Art\n  thou of the children of men or of demons?\" \"Well,\" said I, \"I have grown\n  up among men, but I was born among demons.\" \"But what art thou after\n  here?\" \"Ah,\" I replied, \"I have spent a whole month in yonder city. And\n  what have I found? A city full of friends, enjoying every happiness in\n  common. In vain have I tried to put a little of wickedness among them.\"\n  Then the woman, with a supercilious air: \"If I am to take thee for a\n  specimen, I must have a very poor opinion of the whole tribe of demons.\n  You seem mighty enough, but you haven't the strength of women. Stop here\n  and keep an eye on the wash; but mind, play me no tricks. I will go back\n  to the city and kindle therein fire and fury, and pour over it a spirit\n  of mischief, and thou shalt see how I can manage things.\" \"Agreed!\" said\n  I, \"I will stay here and await thy coming, and watch how affairs turn out\n  in thy hands.\"\n\n  The washerwoman departed, went into the city, called upon one of the\n  great families there residing, and requested to see the lady of the\n  house. She asked for a washing order, which she promised to execute to\n  the most perfect satisfaction. While the housemaid was collecting the\n  linen, the washerwoman lifted her eyes to the beautiful face of the\n  mistress, and exclaimed: \"Yes, they are a dreadful lot, the men; they are\n  all alike, a malediction on them! The best of them is not to be trusted.\n  They love all women but their own wives.\" \"What dost thou mean?\" asked\n  the lady. \"Merely this,\" she answered. \"Coming hither from my house, whom\n  should I meet but thy husband making love to another woman, and such a\n  hideous creature, too! How he could forsake beauty so rare and exquisite\n  as thine for such disgusting ugliness, passes my understanding. But do\n  not weep, dear lady, don't distress thyself and give way. I know a means\n  by which I shall bring that husband of thine to his senses, so that thou\n  shalt suffer no reproach, and he shall never love any other woman than\n  thee. This is what thou must do. When thy husband comes home, speak\n  softly and sweetly to him; let him suspect nothing; and when he has\n  fallen asleep, take a sharp razor and cut off three hairs from his beard;\n  black or white hairs, it matters not. These thou must afterwards give to\n  me, and with them I will compound such a remedy that his eyes shall be\n  darkened in their sockets, so that he will look no more upon other lovely\n  women, but cling to thee alone in mighty and manifest and enduring love.\"\n  All this the lady promised, and gifts besides for the washerwoman, should\n  her plan prosper.\n\n  Carrying the garments with her, the woman now sought out the lady's\n  husband. With every sign of distress in her voice and manner, she told\n  him that she had a frightful secret to divulge to him. She knew not if\n  she would have the strength to do so. She would rather die first The\n  husband was all the more eager to know, and would not be refused. \"Well,\n  then,\" she said, \"I have just been to thy house, where my lady, thy wife,\n  gave me these garments to wash; and, while I was yet standing there, a\n  youth, of handsome mien and nobly attired, arrived, and the two withdrew\n  into an adjoining room: so I inclined mine ear to listen to their speech,\n  and this is what I overheard: The young man said to thy wife, 'Kill thy\n  husband, and I will marry thee,' She, however, declared that she was\n  afraid to do such a dreadful deed. 'O,' answered he, 'with a little\n  courage it is quite easy. When thy husband is asleep, take a sharp razor\n  and cut his throat.'\" In fierce rage, but suppressing all outward\n  indication of it, the husband returned home. Pretending to fall asleep,\n  he watched his wife closely, saw her take a razor to sever the three\n  hairs for the washerwoman's spell, darted up suddenly, wrested the razor\n  from her hands, and with it slew his wife on the spot.\n\n  The news spread; the relations of the wife united to avenge her death,\n  and kill the husband. In their turn his relatives resolved to avenge him;\n  both houses were embroiled, and before the feud was at an end, two\n  hundred and thirty lives were sacrificed. The city resounded with a great\n  cry, the like of which had never been heard. \"From that day,\" concluded\n  Enan, \"I decided to injure no man more. Yet for this very reason I fear\n  to wed an evil woman.\" \"Fear not,\" returned Joseph, \"the girl I recommend\n  is beautiful and good.\" And Enan married her, and loved her.\n\nThus Enan is metamorphosed from a public demon into something of a domestic\nsaint. Zabara gives us an inverted Faust.\n\n\nJOSEPH RETURNS HOME TO BARCELONA\n\n\"After a while,\" concludes Joseph, \"I said to him, 'I have sojourned long\nenough in this city, the ways of which please me not. Ignorance prevails,\nand poetry is unknown; the law is despised; the young are set over the old;\nthey slander and are impudent. Let me go home after my many years of\nwandering in a strange land. Fain would I seek the place where dwells the\ngreat prince, Rabbi Sheshet Benveniste, of whom Wisdom says, Thou art my\nteacher, and Faith, Thou art my friend.' 'What qualitie,' asked Enan,\n'brought him to this lofty place of righteousness and power?' 'His\nsimplicity and humility, his uprightness and saintliness.'\"\n\nAnd with this eulogy of the aged Rabbi of Barcelona, the poem somewhat\ninconsequently ends. It may be that the author left the work without\nputting in the finishing touches. This would account for the extra stories,\nwhich, as was seen above, may belong to the book, though not incorporated\ninto it.\n\nIt will be thought, from the summary mode in which I have rendered these\nstories, that I take Zabara to be rather a literary curiosity than a poet.\nBut Zabara's poetical merits are considerable. If I have refrained from\nattempting a literal rendering, it is mainly because the rhymed-prose\n_genre_ is so characteristically Oriental that its charm is incommunicable\nin a Western language. Hence, to those who do not read Zabara in the\noriginal, he is more easily appreciated as a _conteur_ than as an\nimaginative writer. To the Hebraist, too, something of the same remark\napplies. Rhymed prose is not much more consistent with the genius of Hebrew\nthan it is with the genius of English. Arabic and Persian seem the only\nlanguages in which rhymed prose assumes a natural and melodious shape. In\nthe new-Hebrew, rhymed prose has always been an exotic, never quite a\nnative flower. The most skilful gardeners failed to acclimatize it\nthoroughly in European soil. Yet Zabara's humor, his fluent simplicity, his\neasy mastery over Hebrew, his invention, his occasional gleams of fancy,\nhis gift of satire, his unfailing charm, combine to give his poem some\nright to the title by which he called it--\"The Book of Delight.\"\n\n\n\n\nA VISIT TO HEBRON\n\n\nOf a land where every stone has its story, it can hardly be asserted that\nany one place has a fuller tale to tell than another. But Hebron has a\npeculiar old-world charm as the home of the founder of the Hebrew race.\nMoreover, one's youthful imagination associates Hebron with the giants, the\nsons of Anak, sons, that is, of the long neck; men of Arba, with broad,\nsquare shoulders. A sight of the place itself revives this memory. Ancient\nHebron stood higher than the present city, but as things now are, though\nthe hills of Judea reach their greatest elevation in the neighborhood,\nHebron itself rests in a valley. Most towns in Palestine are built on\nhills, but Hebron lies low. Yet the surrounding hills are thirty-two\nhundred feet above the level of the Mediterranean, and five hundred feet\nhigher than Mount Olivet. For this reason Hebron is ideally placed for\nconveying an impression of the mountainous character of Judea. In Jerusalem\nyou are twenty-six hundred feet above the sea, but, being high up, you\nscarcely realize that you are in a mountain city. The hills about Hebron\ntower loftily above you, and seem a fitting abode for the giants whom\nJoshua and Caleb overthrew.\n\nHebron, from yet another point of view, recalls its old-world associations.\nNot only is Hebron one of the oldest cities in the world still inhabited,\nbut it has been far less changed by Western influences than other famous\nplaces. Hebron is almost entirely unaffected by Christian influence. In the\nEast, Christian influence more or less means European influence, but Hebron\nis still completely Oriental. It is a pity that modern travellers no longer\nfollow the ancient route which passed from Egypt along the coast to Gaza,\nand then struck eastwards to Hebron. By this route, the traveller would\ncome upon Judea in its least modernized aspect. He would find in Hebron a\ncity without a hotel, and unblessed by an office of the Monarch of the\nEast, Mr. Cook. There are no modern schools in Hebron; the only institution\nof the kind, the Mildmay Mission School, had scarcely any pupils at the\ntime of my visit. This is but another indication of the slight effect that\nEuropean forces are producing; the most useful, so far, has been the\nmedical mission of the United Free Church of Scotland. But Hebron has been\nlittle receptive of the educational and sanitary boons that are the chief\ngood--and it is a great good--derived from the European missions in the\nEast. I am almost reluctant to tell the truth, as I must, of Hebron, and\npoint out the pitiful plight of our brethren there, lest, perchance, some\nphilanthropists set about mending the evil, to the loss of the\nprimitiveness in which Hebron at present revels. This is the pity of it.\nWhen you employ a modern broom to sweep away the dirt of an ancient city,\nyour are apt to remove something else as well as the dirt.\n\nBesides its low situation and its primitiveness, Hebron has a third\npeculiarity. Go where one may in Judea, the ancient places, even when still\ninhabited, wear a ruined look. Zion itself is scarcely an exception.\nDespite its fifty thousand inhabitants, Jerusalem has a decayed appearance,\nfor the newest buildings often look like ruins. The cause of this is that\nmany structures are planned on a bigger scale than can be executed, and\nthus are left permanently unfinished, or like the windmill of Sir Moses are\ndisused from their very birth. Hebron, in this respect again, is unlike the\nother cities of Judea. It had few big buildings, hence it has few big\nruins. There are some houses of two stories in which the upper part has\nnever been completed, but the houses are mostly of one story, with\npartially flat and partially domed roofs. The domes are the result both of\nnecessity and design; of necessity, because of the scarcity of large beams\nfor rafters; of design, because the dome enables the rain to collect in a\ngroove, or channel, whence it sinks into a reservoir.\n\nHebron, then, produces a favorable impression on the whole. It is green and\nliving, its hills are clad with vines, with plantations of olives,\npomegranates, figs, quinces, and apricots. Nowhere in Judea, except in the\nJordan valley, is there such an abundance of water. In the neighborhood of\nHebron, there are twenty-five springs, ten large perennial wells, and\nseveral splendid pools. Still, as when the huge cluster was borne on two\nmen's shoulders from Eshkol, the best vines of Palestine grow in and around\nHebron. The only large structure in the city, the mosque which surmounts\nthe Cave of Machpelah, is in excellent repair, especially since 1894-5,\nwhen the Jewish lads from the _Alliance_ school of Jerusalem renewed the\niron gates within, and supplied fresh rails to the so-called sarcophagi of\nthe Patriarchs. The ancient masonry built round the cave by King Herod, the\nstones of which exactly resemble the masonry of the Wailing Place in\nJerusalem, still stands in its massive strength.\n\nI have said that Hebron ought to be approached from the South or West. The\nmodern traveller, however, reaches it from the North. You leave Jerusalem\nby the Jaffa gate, called by the Mohammedans Bab el-Khalil, _i.e._ Hebron\ngate. The Mohammedans call Hebron el-Khalil, City of the Friend of God, a\ntitle applied to Abraham both in Jewish and Mohammedan tradition. Some,\nindeed, derive the name Hebron from Chaber, comrade or friend; but Hebron\nmay mean \"confederation of cities,\" just as its other name, Kiriath-arba,\nmay possibly mean Tetrapolis. The distance from Jerusalem to Hebron depends\nupon the views of the traveller. You can easily get to Hebron in four hours\nand a half by the new carriage road, but the distance, though less than\ntwenty miles, took me fourteen hours, from five in the morning till seven\nat night. Most travellers turn aside to the left to see the Pools of\nSolomon, and the grave of Rachel lies on the right of the highroad itself.\nIt is a modern building with a dome, and the most affecting thing is the\nrough-hewn block of stone worn smooth by the lips of weeping women. On the\nopposite side of the road is Tekoah, the birthplace of Amos; before you\nreach it, five miles more to the north, you get a fine glimpse also of\nBethlehem, the White City, cleanest of Judean settlements. Travellers tell\nyou that the rest of the road is uninteresting. I did not find it so. For\nthe motive of my journey was just to see those \"uninteresting\" sites,\nBeth-zur, where Judas Maccabeus won such a victory that he was able to\nrededicate the Temple, and Beth-zacharias, through whose broad valley-roads\nthe Syrian elephants wound their heavy way, to drive Judas back on his\nprecarious base at the capital.\n\nIt is somewhat curious that this indifference to the Maccabean sites is not\nrestricted to Christian tourists. For, though several Jewish travellers\npassed from Jerusalem to Hebron in the Middle Ages, none of them mentions\nthe Maccabean sites, none of them spares a tear or a cheer for Judas\nMaccabeus. They were probably absorbed in the memory of the Patriarchs and\nof King David, the other and older names identified with this district.\nMedieval fancy, besides, was too busy with peopling Hebron with myths to\nwaste itself on sober facts. Hebron, according to a very old notion, was\nthe place where Adam and Eve lived after their expulsion from Eden; it was\nfrom Hebron's red earth that the first man was made. The _Pirke di Rabbi\nEliezer_ relate, that when the three angels visited Abraham, and he went to\nget a lamb for their meal, the animal fled into a cave. Abraham followed\nit, and saw Adam and Eve lying asleep, with lamps burning by their tombs,\nand a sweet savor, as of incense, emanating from the dead father and mother\nof human-kind. Abraham conceived a love for the Cave, and hence desired it\nfor Sarah's resting-place.\n\nI suppose that some will hold, that we are not on surer historical ground\nwhen we come to the Biblical statement that connects Abraham with Hebron.\nBefore arguing whether Abraham lived in Hebron, and was buried in\nMachpelah, one ought to prove that Abraham ever lived at all, to be buried\nanywhere. But I shall venture to take Abraham's real existence for granted,\nas I am not one of those who think that a statement must be false because\nit is made in the Book of Genesis. That there was a very ancient shrine in\nHebron, that the great Tree of Mamre was the abode of a local deity, may be\nconceded, but to my mind there is no more real figure in history than\nAbraham. Especially when one compares the modern legends with the Biblical\nstory does the substantial truth of the narrative in Genesis manifest\nitself. The narrative may contain elements of folk poetry, but the hero\nAbraham is a genuine personality.\n\nAs I have mentioned the tree, it may be as well to add at once that\nAbraham's Oak is still shown at Hebron, and one can well imagine how it was\nthought that this magnificent terebinth dated from Bible times. A few years\nago it was a fresh, vigorous giant, but now it is quite decayed. The ruin\nbegan in 1853, when a large branch was broken off by the weight of the\nsnow. Twelve years ago the Russian Archimandrite of Jerusalem purchased the\nland on which the tree stands, and naturally he took much care of the\nrelic. In fact, he took too much care, for some people think that the low\nwall which the Russians erected as a safeguard round the Oak, has been the\ncause of the rapid decay that has since set in. Year by year the branches\nhave dropped off, the snow and the lightning have had their victims. It is\nsaid that only two or three years ago one branch towards the East was still\nliving, but when I saw it, the trunk was bare and bark-less, full of little\nworm-holes, and quite without a spark of vitality. The last remaining\nfragment has since fallen, and now the site of the tree is only marked by\nthe row of young cypresses which have been planted in a circle round the\nbase of the Oak of Mamre. But who shall prophesy that, a century hence, a\ntree will not have acquired sufficient size and antiquity to be foisted\nupon uncritical pilgrims as the veritable tree under which Father Abraham\ndwelt!\n\nThe Jewish tradition does not quite agree with the view that identified\nthis old tree with Mamre. According to Jewish tradition, the Tree is at the\nruins of Ramet el-Khalil, the High Place of the Friend, _i.e._ of Abraham,\nabout two miles nearer Jerusalem. Mr. Shaw Caldecott has propounded the\ntheory that this site is Samuel's Ramah, and that the vast ruins of a\nstone-walled enclosure here represent the enclosure within which Samuel's\naltar stood. The Talmud has it that Abraham erected a guest-house for the\nentertainment of strangers near the Grove of Mamre. There were doors on\nevery side, so that the traveller found a welcome from whichever direction\nhe came. There our father made the name of God proclaimed at the mouth of\nall wayfarers. How? After they had eaten and refreshed themselves, they\nrose to thank him. Abraham answered, \"Was the food mine? It is the bounty\nof the Creator of the Universe.\" Then they praised, glorified, and blessed\nHim who spake and the world was.\n\nWe are on the road now near Hebron, but, before entering, let us recall a\nfew incidents in its history. After the Patriarchal age, Hebron was noted\nas the possession of Caleb. It also figures as a priestly city and as one\nof the cities of refuge. David passed much of his life here, and, after\nSaul's death, Hebron was the seat of David's rule over Judea. Abner was\nslain here by Joab, and was buried here--they still show Abner's tomb in\nthe garden of a large house within the city. By the pool at Hebron were\nslain the murderers of Ishbosheth, and here Absalom assumed the throne.\nAfter his time we hear less of Hebron. Jerusalem overshadowed it in\nimportance, yet we have one or two mentions. Rehoboam strengthened the\ntown, and from a stray reference in Nehemiah, we gather that the place long\ncontinued to be called by its older name of Kiriath Arba. For a long period\nafter the return from the Exile Hebron belonged to the Idumeans. It was the\nscene of warfare in the Maccabean period, and also during the rebellion\nagainst Rome. In the market-place at Hebron, Hadrian sold numbers of Jewish\nslaves after the fall of Bar-Cochba, in 135 C.E. In the twelfth century\nHebron was in the hands of the Christian Crusaders. The fief of Hebron, or,\nas it was called, of Saint Abraham, extended southwards to Beer-sheba. A\nbishopric was founded there in 1169, but was abandoned twenty years later.\n\nWe hear of many pilgrims in the Middle Ages. The Christians used to eat\nsome of the red earth of Hebron, the earth from which Adam was made. On\nSunday the seventeenth of October, 1165, Maimonides was in Hebron, passing\nthe city on his way from Jerusalem to Cairo. Obadiah of Bertinoro, in 1488,\ntook Hebron on the reverse route. He went from Egypt across the desert to\nGaza, and, though he travelled all day, did not reach Hebron from Gaza till\nthe second morning. If the text is correct, David Reubeni was four days in\ntraversing the same road, a distance of about thirty-three miles. To revert\nto an earlier time, Nachmanides very probably visited Hebron. Indeed, his\ngrave is shown to the visitor. But this report is inaccurate. He wrote to\nhis son, in 1267, from Jerusalem, \"Now I intend to go to Hebron, to the\nsepulchre of our ancestors, to prostrate myself, and there to dig my\ngrave.\" But he must have altered his mind in the last-named particular, for\nhis tomb is most probably in Acre.\n\nI need not go through the list of distinguished visitors to Hebron. Suffice\nit to say that in the fourteenth century there was a large and flourishing\ncommunity of Jews in the town; they were weavers and dyers of cotton stuffs\nand glass-makers, and the Rabbi was often himself a shepherd in the literal\nsense, teaching the Torah while at work in the fields. He must have felt\nembarrassed sometimes between his devotion to his metaphorical and to his\nliteral flock. When I was at Moza, I was talking over some Biblical texts\nwith Mr. David Yellin, who was with me. The colonists endured this for a\nwhile, but at last they broke into open complaint. One of the colonists\nsaid to me: \"It is true that the Mishnah forbids you to turn aside from the\nTorah to admire a tree, but you have come all the way from Europe to admire\nmy trees. Leave the Torah alone for the present.\" I felt that he was right,\nand wondered how the Shepherd Rabbis of Hebron managed in similar\ncircumstances.\n\nIn the century of which I am speaking, the Hebron community consisted\nentirely of Sefardim, and it was not till the sixteenth century that\nAshkenazim settled there in large numbers. I have already mentioned the\nvisit of David Reubeni. He was in Hebron in 1523, when he entered the Cave\nof Machpelah on March tenth, at noon. It is of interest to note that his\naccount of the Cave agrees fully with that of Conder. It is now quite\ncertain that he was really there in person, and his narrative was not made\nup at second hand. The visit of Reubeni, as well as Sabbatai Zebi's, gave\nnew vogue to the place. When Sabbatai was there, a little before the year\n1666, the Jews were awake and up all night, so as not to lose an instant of\nthe sacred intercourse with the Messiah. But the journey to Hebron was not\npopular till our own days. It was too dangerous, the Hebron natives\nenjoying a fine reputation for ferocity and brigandage. An anonymous Hebrew\nwriter writes from Jerusalem in 1495, that a few days before a Jew from\nHebron had been waylaid and robbed. But he adds: \"I hear that on Passover\nsome Jews are coming here from Egypt and Damascus, with the intention of\nalso visiting Hebron. I shall go with them, if I am still alive.\"\n\nIn Baedeker, Hebron is still given a bad character, the Muslims of the\nplace being called fanatical and violent. I cannot confirm this verdict.\nThe children throw stones at you, but they take good care not to hit. As I\nhave already pointed out, Hebron is completely non-Christian, just as\nBethlehem is completely non-Mohammedan. The Crescent is very disinclined to\nadmit the Cross into Hebron, the abode of Abraham, a name far more honored\nby Jews and Mohammedans than by Christians.\n\nIt is not quite just to call the Hebronites fanatical and sullen; they\nreally only desire to hold Hebron as their own. \"Hebron for the Hebronites\"\nis their cry. The road, at all events, is quite safe. One of the surprises\nof Palestine is the huge traffic along the main roads. Orientals not only\nmake a great bustle about what they do, but they really are very busy\npeople. Along the roads you meet masses of passengers, people on foot, on\nmules and horses, on camels, in wheeled vehicles. You come across groups of\npilgrims, with one mule to the party, carrying the party's goods, the\nchildren always barefooted and bareheaded--the latter fact making you\nrealize how the little boy in the Bible story falling sick in the field\nexclaimed \"My head, my head!\" Besides the pilgrims, there are the bearers\nof goods and produce. You see donkeys carrying large stones for building,\none stone over each saddle. If you are as lucky as I was, you may see a\nrunaway camel along the Hebron road, scouring alone at break-neck speed,\nwith laughter-producing gait.\n\nOf Hebron itself I saw little as I entered, because I arrived towards\nsunset, and only had time to notice that everyone in the streets carried a\nlantern. In Jerusalem only the women carry lights, but in Hebron men had\nthem as well. I wondered where I was to pass the night. Three friends had\naccompanied me from Jerusalem, and they told me not to worry, as we could\nstay at the Jewish doctor's. It seemed to me a cool piece of impudence to\nbillet a party on a man whose name had been previously unknown to me, but\nthe result proved that they were right. The doctor welcomed us right\nheartily; he said that it was a joy to entertain us. Now it was that one\nsaw the advantages of the Oriental architecture. The chief room in an\nEastern house is surrounded on three sides by a wide stone or wooden divan,\nwhich, in wealthy houses, is richly upholstered. The Hebron doctor was not\nrich, but there was the same divan covered with a bit of chintz. On it one\nmade one's bed, hard, it is true, but yet a bed. You always take your rugs\nwith you for covering at night, you put your portmanteau under your head as\na pillow, and there you are! You may rely upon one thing. People who, on\ntheir return from Palestine, tell you that they had a comfortable trip,\nhave seen nothing of the real life of the country. To do that you must\nrough it, as I did both at Modin and at Hebron. To return to the latter.\nThe rooms have stone floors and vaulted roofs, the children walk about with\nwooden shoes, and the pitter-patter makes a pleasant music. They throw off\nthe shoes as they enter the room. My host had been in Hebron for six years,\nand he told me overnight what I observed for myself next day, that,\nconsidering the fearful conditions under which the children live, there is\ncomparatively little sickness. As for providing meals, a genuine communism\nprevails. You produce your food, your host adds his store, and you partake\nin common of the feast to which both sides contribute. After a good long\ntalk, I got to sleep easily, thinking, as I dozed off, that I should pass a\npleasant night. I had become impervious to the mosquitoes, but there was\nsomething else which I had forgotten. Was it a dream, an awful nightmare,\nor had a sudden descent of Bedouins occurred? Gradually I was awakened by a\nnoise as of wild beasts let loose, howls of rage and calls to battle. It\nwas only the dogs. In Jerusalem I had never heard them, as the Jewish hotel\nwas then well out of the town; it has since been moved nearer in. It is\nimpossible to convey a sense of the terrifying effect produced by one's\nfirst experience of the night orgies of Oriental dogs, it curdles your\nblood to recall it. Seen by daytime, the dogs are harmless enough, as they\ngo about their scavenger work among the heaps of refuse and filth. But by\nnight they are howling demons, stampeding about the streets in mad groups,\nbarking to and at each other, whining piteously one moment, roaring\nhoarsely and snapping fiercely another.\n\nThe dogs did me one service, they made me get up early. I walked through a\nbluish-gray atmosphere. Colors in Judea are bright, yet there is always an\neffect as of a thin gauze veil over them. I went, then, into the streets,\nand at five o'clock the sun was high, and the bustle of the place had\nbegun. The air was keen and fresh, and many were already abroad. I saw some\ncamels start for Jerusalem, laden with straw mats made in Hebron.\n\nNext went some asses carrying poultry for the Holy City, then a family\ncaravan with its inevitable harem of closely veiled women. Then I saw a man\nwith tools for hewing stone, camels coming into Hebron, a boy with a large\npetroleum can going to fetch water,--they are abandoning the use of the\nolden picturesque stone pitchers,--then I saw asses loaded with vine twigs,\none with lime, women with black dresses and long white veils, boys with\nbent backs carrying iron stones. I saw, too, some Bethlehemite Christians\nhurrying home to the traditional site of the nativity. You can always\ndistinguish these, for they are the only Christians in Palestine that wear\nturbans habitually. And all over the landscape dominated the beautiful\ngreen hills, fresh with the morning dew, a dew so thick that I had what I\nhad not expected, a real morning bath. I was soaked quite wet by the time I\nreturned from my solitary stroll. I had a capital breakfast, for which we\nsupplied the solids, and our host the coffee. Butter is a luxury which we\nneither expected nor got. Hebron, none the less, seemed to me a Paradise,\nand I applauded the legend that locates Adam and Eve in this spot.\n\nAlas! I had not yet seen Hebron. The doctor lived on the outskirts near the\nhighroad, where there are many fine and beautiful residences. I was soon to\nenter the streets and receive a rude awakening, when I saw the manner in\nwhich the fifteen hundred Jews of Hebron live. Hebron is a ghetto in a\ngarden; it is worse than even Jerusalem, Jerusalem being clean in\ncomparison. Dirty, dark, narrow, vaulted, unevenly paved, running with\nliquid slime--such are the streets of Hebron. You are constantly in danger\nof slipping, unless you wear the flat, heel-less Eastern shoes, and, if you\nonce fell, not all the perfumes of Araby could make you sweet again.\n\nI should say that, before starting on my round, I had to secure the\nattendance of soldiers. Not that it was necessary, but they utilize\nBaedeker's assertion, that the people are savage, to get fees out of\nvisitors--a cunning manner of turning the enemy's libels to profitable\naccount. I hired two soldiers, but one by one others joined my train, so\nthat by the time my tour was over, I had a whole regiment of guardians, all\ndemanding baksheesh. I would only deal with the leader, a ragged warrior\nwith two daggers, a sword, and a rifle. \"How much?\" I asked. \"We usually\nask a napoleon (_i.e._ 20 francs) for an escort, but we will charge you\nonly ten francs.\" I turned to the doctor and asked him, \"How much?\" \"Give\nthem a beslik between them,\" he said. A beslik is only five pence. I\noffered it in trepidation, but the sum satisfied the whole gang, who\nthanked me profusely.\n\nFirst I visited the prison, a sort of open air cage, in which about a dozen\nmen were smoking cigarettes. The prison was much nicer than the Mohammedan\nschool close by. This was a small overcrowded room, with no window in it,\nthe little boys sitting on the ground, swaying with a sleepy chant. The\nteacher's only function was represented by his huge cane, which he plied\noften and skilfully. Outside the door was a barber shaving a pilgrim's\nhead. The pilgrim was a Muslim, going on the Haj to Mecca. These pilgrims\nare looked on with mingled feelings; their piety is admired, but also\ndistrusted. A local saying is, \"If thy neighbor has been on the Haj, beware\nof him; if he has been twice, have no dealings with him; if he has been\nthrice, move into another street.\" After the pilgrim, I passed a number of\nblind weavers, working before large wooden frames.\n\nBut now for the Jewish quarter. This is entered by a low wooden door, at\nwhich we had to knock and then stoop to get in. The Jews are no longer\nforced to have this door, but they retain it voluntarily. Having got in, we\nwere in a street so dark that we could not see a foot before us, but we\nkept moving, and soon came to a slightly better place, where the sun crept\nthrough in fitful gleams. The oldest synagogue was entered first. Its\nflooring was of marble squares, its roof vaulted, and its Ark looked north\ntowards Jerusalem. There were, as so often in the East, two Arks; when one\nis too small, they do not enlarge it, but build another. The Sefardic\nTalmud Torah is a small room without window or ventilation, the only light\nand air enter by the door. The children were huddled together on an\nelevated wooden platform. They could read Hebrew fluently, and most of them\nspoke Arabic. The German children speak Yiddish; the custom of using Hebrew\nas a living language has not spread here so much as in Jaffa and the\ncolonies. The Beth ha-Midrash for older children was a little better\nequipped; it had a stone floor, but the pupils reclined on couches round\nthe walls. They learn very little of what we should call secular subjects.\nI examined the store of manuscripts, but Professor Schechter had been\nbefore me, and there was nothing left but modern Cabbalistic literature.\nThe other synagogue is small, and very bare of ornament. The Rabbi was\nseated there, \"learning,\" with great Tefillin and Tallith on--a fine,\nsimple, benevolent soul. To my surprise he spoke English, and turned out to\nbe none other than Rachmim Joseph Franco, who, as long ago as 1851, when\nthe earthquake devastated the Jewish quarter, had been sent from Rhodes to\ncollect relief funds. He was very ailing, and I could not have a long\nconversation with him, but he told me that he had known my father, who was\nthen a boy, in London. Then I entered a typical Jewish dwelling of the\npoor. It consisted of a single room, opening on to the dark street, and had\na tiny barred window at the other side. On the left was a broad bed, on the\nright a rude cooking stove and a big water pitcher. There was nothing else\nin the room, except a deep stagnant mud pool, which filled the centre of\nthe floor.\n\nNext door they were baking Matzoth in an oven fed by a wood fire. It was a\nfew days before Passover. The Matzoth were coarse, and had none of the\nlittle holes with which we are familiar. So through streets within streets,\ndirt within dirt, room over room, in hopeless intricacy. Then we were\nbrought to a standstill, a man was coming down the street with a bundle of\nwood, and we had to wait till he had gone by, the streets being too narrow\nfor two persons to pass each other. Another street was impassable for a\ndifferent reason, there was quite a river of flowing mud, knee deep. I\nasked for a boat, but a man standing by hoisted me on his shoulders, and\ncarried me across, himself wading through it with the same unconcern as the\nboys and girls were wallowing in it, playing and amusing themselves. How\nalike children are all the world over!\n\nAnd yet, with it all, Hebron is a healthy place. There is little of the\nintermittent fever prevalent in other parts of Palestine; illness is\ncommon, but not in a bad form. Jerusalem is far more unhealthy, because of\nthe lack of water. But the Jews of Hebron are miserably poor. How they live\nis a mystery. They are not allowed to own land, even if they could acquire\nit. There was once a little business to be done in lending money to the\nArabs, but as the Government refuses to help in the collection of debts,\nthis trade is not flourishing, and a good thing, too. There are, of course,\nsome industries. First there is the wine. I saw nothing of the vintage, as\nmy visit was in the spring, but I tasted the product and found it good. The\nArab vine-owners sell the grapes to Jews, who extract the juice. Still\nthere is room for enterprise here, and it is regrettable that few seem to\nthink of Hebron when planning the regeneration of Judea. True, I should\nregret the loss of primitiveness here, as I said at the outset, but when\nthe lives of men are concerned, esthetics must go to the wall. The Jewish\nquarter was enlarged in 1875, but it is still inadequate. The Society\nLemaan Zion has done a little to introduce modern education, but neither\nthe Alliance nor the Anglo-Jewish Association has a school here. Lack of\nmeans prevents the necessary efforts from being made. Most deplorable is\nthe fact connected with the hospital. In a beautiful sunlit road above the\nmosque, amid olive groves, is the Jewish hospital, ready for use,\nwell-built, but though the very beds were there when T saw it, no patients\ncould be received, as there were no funds. The Jewish doctor was doing a\nwonderful work. He had exiled himself from civilized life, as we Westerns\nunderstand it; his children had no school to which to go; he felt himself\nstagnating, without intellectual intercourse with his equals, yet active,\nkindly, uncomplaining--one of those everyday martyrs whom one meets so\noften among the Jews of Judea, men who day by day see their ambitions\nvanishing under the weight of a crushing duty. It was sad to see how he\nlingered over the farewell when I left him. I said that his house had\nseemed an oasis in the desert to me, that I could never forget the time\nspent with him. \"And what of me?\" he answered. \"Your visit has been an\noasis in the desert to me, but you go and the desert remains.\" Surely, the\nsaddest thing in life is this feeling that one's own uninteresting,\ncommonplace self should mean so much to others. I call it sad, because so\nfew of us realize what we may mean to others, being so absorbed in our\nselfish thought of what others mean to us.\n\nThere are two industries in Hebron besides the vintage. It supplies most of\nthe skin-bottles used in Judea, and a good deal of glassware, including\nlamps, is manufactured there. The Hebron tannery is a picturesque place,\nbut no Jews are employed in it. Each bottle is made from an entire\ngoat-skin, from which only the head and feet are removed. The lower\nextremities are sewn up, and the neck is drawn together to form the neck of\nthe water bottle. Some trade is also done here in wool, which the Arabs\nbring in and sell at the market held every Friday. In ancient times the\nsheep used in the Temple sacrifices were obtained from Hebron. Besides the\ntannery, the glass factories are worth a visit. The one which I saw was in\na cavern, lit only by the glow of the central furnace. Seated round the\nhearth (I am following Gautier's faithful description of the scene) and\nserved by two or three boys, were about ten workmen, making many-colored\nbracelets and glass rings, which varied in size from small finger rings to\ncirclets through which you could easily put your arm. The workmen are\nprovided with two metal rods and a pair of small tongs, and they ply these\nprimitive instruments with wonderful dexterity. They work very hard, at\nleast fifteen hours a day, for five days a week.\n\nThis is one of the curiosities of the East. Either the men there are\nloafers, or they work with extraordinary vigor. There is nothing between\ndoing too much and doing nothing. The same thing strikes one at Jaffa. The\nporters who carry your baggage from the landing stage to the steamer do\nmore work than three English dock laborers. They carry terrific weights.\nWhen a family moves, a porter carries all the furniture on his back. Yet\nside by side with these overworked men, Jaffa is crowded with idlers, who\ndo absolutely nothing. Such are the contrasts of the surprising Orient.\n\nMany of the beads and rosaries taken to Europe by pious pilgrims are made\nin Hebron, just as the mother of pearl relics come chiefly from Bethlehem,\nwhere are made also the tobacco-jars of Dead Sea stone. Hebron does a fair\ntrade with the Bedouins, but on the whole it is quite unprogressive. At\nfirst sight this may seem rather an unpleasant fact for lovers of peace.\nHebron has for many centuries been absolutely free from the ravages of war,\nyet it stagnates. Peace is clearly not enough for progress. As the\nRabbinical phrase well puts it, \"Peace is the vessel which holds all other\ngood\"--without peace this other good is spilt, but peace is after all the\ncontaining vessel, not the content of happiness.\n\nI have left out, in the preceding narrative, the visit paid to the Haram\nerected over the Cave of Machpelah. The mosque is an imposing structure,\nand rises above the houses on the hill to the left as you enter from\nJerusalem. The walls of the enclosure and of the mosque are from time to\ntime whitewashed, so that the general appearance is somewhat dazzling. It\nhas already been mentioned that certain repairs were effected in 1894-5.\nThe work was done by the lads of the Technical School in Jerusalem; they\nmade an iron gate for Joseph's tomb,--the Moslems believe that Joseph is\nburied in Hebron,--and they made one gate for Abraham's tomb, one gate and\nthree window gratings for Isaac's tomb, and one gate and two window\ngratings for Rebekah's tomb. This iron work, it is satisfactory to\nremember, was rendered possible by the splendid machinery sent out to the\nschool from London by the Anglo-Jewish Association. The ordinary Jewish\nvisitor is not allowed to enter the enclosure at all. I was stopped at the\nsteps, where the custodian audaciously demanded a tip for not letting me\nin. The tombs within are not the real tombs of the Patriarchs; they are\nmerely late erections over the spots where the Patriarchs lie buried.\n\nNo one has ever doubted that Machpelah is actually at this site, but the\nbuilding is, of course, not Patriarchal in age. The enclosure is as old as\nthe Wailing Wall at Jerusalem. It belongs to the age of Herod; we see the\nsame cyclopean stones, with the same surface draftings as at Jerusalem. Why\nHerod built this edifice seems clear. Hebron was the centre of Idumean\ninfluence, and Herod was an Idumean. He had a family interest in the place,\nand hence sought to beautify it. No Jew or Christian can enter the\nenclosure except by special irade; even Sir Moses Montefiore was refused\nthe privilege. Rather, one should say, the Moslem authorities wished to let\nSir Moses in, but they were prevented by the mob from carrying out their\namiable intentions. The late English King Edward VII and the present King\nGeorge V were privileged to enter the structure. Mr. Elkan Adler got in at\nthe time when the _Alliance_ workmen were repairing the gates, but there is\nnothing to see of any interest. No one within historical times has\npenetrated below the mosque, to the cavern itself. We still do not know\nwhether it is called Machpelah because the Cave is double vertically or\ndouble horizontally.\n\nThe outside is much more interesting than the inside. Half way up the steps\nleading into the mosque, there is a small hole or window at which many Jews\npray, and into which, it is said, all sorts of things, including letters to\nthe Patriarchs, are thrown, especially by women. In the Middle Ages, they\nspread at this hole a tender calf, some venison pasties, and some red\npottage, every day, in honor of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the food was\neaten by the poor. It is commonly reported, though I failed to obtain any\nlocal confirmation of the assertion, that the Jews still write their names\nand their requests on strips of paper and thrust them into this hole. The\nMoslems let down a lamp through the hole, and also cast money into it,\nwhich is afterwards picked up by little boys as it is required for the\npurposes of the mosque and for repairing the numerous tombs of prophets and\nsaints with which Hebron abounds. If you were to believe the local\ntraditions, no corpses were left for other cemeteries. The truth is that\nmuch obscurity exists as to the identity even of modern tombs, for Hebron\npreserves its old custom, and none of the Jewish tombs to this day bear\nepitaphs. What a mass of posthumous hypocrisy would the world be spared if\nthe Hebron custom were prevalent everywhere! But it is obvious that the\nmethod lends itself to inventiveness, and as the tombs are unnamed, local\nguides tell you anything they choose about them, and you do not believe\nthem even when they are speaking the truth.\n\nThere is only one other fact to tell about the Cave. The Moslems have a\ncurious dread of Isaac and Rebekah, they regard the other Patriarchs as\nkindly disposed, but Isaac is irritable, and Rebekah malicious. It is told\nof Ibrahim Pasha of Egypt, he who \"feared neither man nor devil,\" that when\nhe was let down into the Cave by a rope, he surprised Rebekah in the act of\ncombing her hair. She resented the intrusion, and gave him so severe a box\non the ears that he fell down in a fit, and could be rescued alive only\nwith much difficulty. It is with equal difficulty that one can depart, with\nany reverence left, from the mass of legend and childishness with which one\nis crushed in such places. One escapes with the thought of the real\nAbraham, his glorious service to humanity, his lifelong devotion to the\nmaking of souls, to the spread of the knowledge of God. One recalls the\nAbraham who, in the Jewish tradition, is the type of unselfishness, of\nwatchfulness on behalf of his descendants, the marks of whose genuine\nrelationship to the Patriarch are a generous eye and a humble spirit. As\none turns from Hebron, full of such happy memories, one forms the resolve\nnot to rely solely on an appeal to the Patriarch's merits, but to strive to\ndo something oneself for the Jewish cause, and thus fulfil the poet's\nlines,\n\n  Thus shalt thou plant a garden round the tomb,\n  Where golden hopes may flower, and fruits immortal bloom.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SOLACE OF BOOKS\n\n\nIn the year 1190, Judah ibn Tibbon, a famous Provencal Jew, who had\nmigrated to Southern France from Granada, wrote in Hebrew as follows to his\nson:\n\n\"Avoid bad society: make thy books thy companions. Let thy bookcases and\nshelves be thy gardens and pleasure grounds. Pluck the fruit that grows\ntherein; gather the roses, the spices, and the myrrh. If thy soul be\nsatiate and weary, change from garden to garden, from furrow to furrow,\nfrom scene to scene. Then shall thy desire renew itself, and thy soul be\nrich with manifold delight.\"\n\nIn this beautiful comparison of a library to a garden, there is one point\nmissing. The perfection of enjoyment is reached when the library, or at\nleast a portable part of it, is actually carried into the garden. When\nLightfoot was residing at Ashley (Staffordshire), he followed this course,\nas we know from a letter of his biographer. \"There he built himself a small\nhouse in the midst of a garden, containing two rooms below, viz. a study\nand a withdrawing room, and a lodging chamber above; and there he studied\nhard, and laid the foundations of his Rabbinic learning, and took great\ndelight, lodging there often, though [quaintly adds John Stype] he was then\na married man.\" Montaigne, whose great-grandfather, be it recalled, was a\nSpanish Jew, did not possess a library built in the open air, but he had\nthe next best thing. He used the top story of a tower, whence, says he, \"I\nbehold under me my garden.\"\n\nIn ancient Athens, philosophers thought out their grandest ideas walking up\nand down their groves. Nature sobers us. \"When I behold Thy heavens, the\nwork of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained; what\nis man that Thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that Thou visitest\nhim?\" But if nature sobers, she also consoles. As the Psalmist continues:\n\"Thou hast made him but little lower than the angels, and crownest him with\nglory and honor. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of Thy\nhands; Thou hast put all things under his feet.\" Face to face with nature,\nman realizes that he is greater than she. \"On earth there is nothing great\nbut man, in man there is nothing great but mind.\" So, no doubt, the\nAthenian sages gained courage as well as modesty from the contact of mind\nwith nature. And not they only, for our own Jewish treasure, the Mishnah,\ngrew up, if not literally, at least metaphorically, in the open air, in the\nvineyard of Jamnia. Standing in the sordid little village which to-day\noccupies the site of ancient Jamnia, with the sea close at hand and the\nplain of Sharon and the Judean lowlands at my feet, I could see Rabbi\nJochanan ben Zakkai and his comrades pacing to and fro, pondering those\ngreat thoughts which live among us now, though the authors of them have\nbeen in their graves for eighteen centuries.\n\nIt is curious how often this habit of movement goes with thinking.\nMontaigne says: \"Every place of retirement requires a Walk. My thoughts\nsleep if I sit still; my Fancy does not go by itself, as it goes when my\nLegs move it.\" What Montaigne seems to mean is that we love rhythm. Body\nand mind must move together in harmony. So it is with the Mohammedan over\nthe Koran, and the Rabbi over the Talmud. Jews sway at prayer for the same\nreason. Movement of the body is not a mere mannerism; it is part of the\nemotion, like the instrumental accompaniment to a song. The child cons his\nlesson moving; we foolishly call it \"fidgeting.\" The child is never\nreceptive unless also active. But there is another of Montaigne's feelings,\nwith which I have no sympathy. He loved to think when on the move, but his\nwalk must be solitary. \"'Tis here,\" he says of his library, \"I am in my\nkingdom, and I endeavor to make myself an absolute monarch. So I sequester\nthis one corner from all society--conjugal, filial, civil.\" This is a\ndetestable habit. It is the acme of selfishness, to shut yourself up with\nyour books. To write over your study door \"Let no one enter here!\" is to\nproclaim your work divorced from life. Montaigne gloried in the\ninaccessibility of his asylum. His house was perched upon an \"overpeering\nhillock,\" so that in any part of it--still more in the round room of the\ntower--he could \"the better seclude myself from company, and keep\nencroachers from me.\" Yet some may work best when there are others beside\nthem. From the book the reader turns to the child that prattles near, and\nrealizes how much more the child can ask than the book can answer. The\npresence of the young living soul corrects the vanity of the dead old\npedant. Books are most solacing when the limitations of bookish wisdom are\nperceived. \"Literature,\" said Matthew Arnold, \"is a criticism of life.\"\nThis is true, despite the objections of Saintsbury, but I venture to add\nthat \"life is a criticism of literature.\"\n\nNow, I am not going to convert a paper on the Solace of Books into a paper\nin dispraise of books. I shall not be so untrue to my theme. But I give\nfair warning that I shall make no attempt to scale the height or sound the\ndepth of the intellectual phases of this great subject. I invite my reader\nonly to dally desultorily on the gentler slopes of sentiment.\n\nOne of the most comforting qualities of books has been well expressed by\nRichard of Bury in his famous Philobiblon, written in 1344. This is an\nexquisite little volume on the Love of Books, which Mr. Israel Gollancz has\nnow edited in an exquisite edition, attainable for the sum of one shilling.\n\"How safely,\" says Richard, \"we lay bare the poverty of human ignorance to\nbooks, without feeling any shame.\"\n\nThen he goes on to describe books as those silent teachers who \"instruct us\nwithout rods or stripes; without taunts or anger; without gifts or money;\nwho are not asleep when we approach them, and do not deny us when we\nquestion them; who do not chide us when we err, or laugh at us if we are\nignorant.\"\n\nIt is Richard of Bury's last phrase that I find so solacing. No one is ever\nashamed of turning to a book, but many hesitate to admit their ignorance to\nan interlocutor. Your dictionary, your encyclopedia, and your other books,\nare the recipients of many a silent confession of nescience which you would\nnever dream of making auricular. You go to these \"golden pots in which\nmanna is stored,\" and extract food exactly to your passing taste, without\nneeding to admit, as Esau did to Jacob, that you are hungry unto death.\nThis comparison of books to food is of itself solacing, for there is always\nsomething attractive in metaphors drawn from the delights of the table. The\nmetaphor is very old.\n\n\"Open thy mouth,\" said the Lord to Ezekiel, \"and eat that which I give\nthee. And when I looked, a hand was put forth unto me, and, lo, a scroll of\na book was therein.... Then I did eat it, and it was in my mouth as honey\nfor sweetness.\"\n\nWhat a quaint use does Richard of Bury make of this very passage!\nAddressing the clergy, he says \"Eat the book with Ezekiel, that the belly\nof your memory may be sweetened within, and thus, as with the panther\nrefreshed, to whose breath all beasts and cattle long to approach, the\nsweet savor of the spices it has eaten may shed a perfume without.\"\n\nWilling enough would I be to devote the whole of my paper to Richard of\nBury. I must, however, content myself with one other noble extract, which,\nI hope, will whet my reader's appetite for more: \"Moses, the gentlest of\nmen, teaches us to make bookcases most neatly, wherein they [books] may be\nprotected from any injury. Take, he says, this book of the Law and put it\nin the side of the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord your God. O fitting\nplace and appropriate for a library, which was made of imperishable shittim\n[i.e. acacia] wood, and was covered within and without with gold.\"\n\nStill we must not push this idea of costly bookcases too far. Judah the\nPious wrote in the twelfth century, \"Books were made for use, not to be\nhidden away.\" This reminds me that Richard of Bury is not the only medieval\nbook-lover with whom we might spend a pleasant evening. Judah ben Samuel\nSir Leon, surnamed the Pious, whom I have just quoted, wrote the \"Book of\nthe Pious\" in Hebrew, in 1190, and it has many excellent paragraphs about\nbooks. Judah's subject is, however, the care of books rather than the\nsolace derivable from them. Still, he comes into my theme, for few people\ncan have enjoyed books more than he. He had no selfish love for them: he\nnot only possessed books, he lent them. He was a very prince of\nbook-lenders, for he did not object if the borrowers of his books re-lent\nthem in their turn. So, on dying, he advised his sons to lend his books\neven to an enemy (par. 876). \"If a father dies,\" he says elsewhere (par.\n919), \"and leaves a dog and a book to his sons, one shall not say to the\nother, You take the dog, and I'll take the book,\" as though the two were\ncomparable in value. Poor, primitive Judah the Pious! We wiser moderns\nshould never dream of making the comparison between a dog and a book, but\nfor the opposite reason. Judah shrank from equalling a book to a dog, but\nwe know better than to undervalue a dog so far as to compare it with a\nbook. The kennel costs more than the bookcase, and love of dogs is a higher\nsolace than love of books. To those who think thus, what more convincing\ncondemnation of books could be formulated than the phrase coined by Gilbert\nde Porre in praise of his library, \"It is a garden of immortal fruits,\nwithout dog or dragon.\"\n\nI meant to part with Richard of Bury, but I must ask permission to revert\nto him. Some of the delight he felt in books arose from his preference of\nreading to oral intercourse. \"The truth in speech perishes with the sound:\nit is patent to the ear only and eludes the sight: begins and perishes as\nit were in a breath.\" Personally I share this view, and I believe firmly\nthat the written word brings more pleasure than the spoken word.\n\nPlato held the opposite view. He would have agreed with the advice given by\nChesterfield to his son, \"Lay aside the best book when you can go into the\nbest company--depend upon it you change for the better.\" Plato did, indeed,\ncharacterize books as \"immortal sons deifying their sires.\" But, on the\nopposite side, he has that memorable passage, part of which I now quote,\nfrom the same source that has supplied several others of my quotations, Mr.\nAlexander Ireland's \"Book-Lover's Enchiridion.\" \"Writing,\" says Plato, \"has\nthis terrible disadvantage, which puts it on the same footing with\npainting. The artist's productions stand before you, as if they were alive:\nbut if you ask them anything, they keep a solemn silence. Just so with\nwritten discourse: you would fancy it full of the thoughts it speaks: but\nif you ask it something that you want to know about what is said, it looks\nat you always with the same one sign. And, once committed to writing,\ndiscourse is tossed about everywhere indiscriminately, among those who\nunderstand and those to whom it is naught, and who cannot select the fit\nfrom the unfit.\" Plato further complains, adds Mr. Martineau, that \"Theuth,\nthe inventor of letters, had ruined men's memories and living command of\ntheir knowledge, by inducing a lazy trust in records ready to their hand:\nand he limits the benefit of the _litera scripta_ to the compensation it\nprovides for the failing memory of old age, when reading naturally becomes\nthe great solace of life.... Plato's tone is invariably depreciatory of\neverything committed to writing, with the exception of laws.\"\n\nThis was also the early Rabbinical view, for while the Law might, nay,\nmust, be written, the rest of the tradition was to be orally confided. The\noral book was the specialty of the Rabbinical schools. We moderns, who are\nto the ancients, in Rabbinic phrase, as asses to angels in intellect,\ncannot rely upon oral teaching--our memory is too weak to bear the strain.\nEven when a student attends an oral lecture, he proves my point, because he\ntakes notes.\n\nThe ideal lies, as usual, in a compromise. Reading profits most when,\nbeside the book, you have some one with whom to talk about the book. If\nthat some one be the author of the book, good; if it be your teacher,\nbetter; if it be a fellow-student, better still; if it be members of your\nfamily circle, best of all. The teacher has only succeeded when he feels\nthat his students can do without him, can use their books by themselves and\nfor themselves. But personal intercourse in studies between equals is never\nobsolete. \"Provide thyself with a fellow-student,\" said the Rabbi.\nFriendship made over a book is fast, enduring; this friendship is the great\nsolace. How much we Jews have lost in modern times in having given up the\nold habit of reading good books together in the family circle! Religious\nliterature thus had a halo of home about it, and the halo never faded\nthroughout life. From the pages of the book in after years the father's\nloving voice still spoke to his child. But when it comes to the author, I\nhave doubts whether it be at all good to have him near you when you read\nhis book. You may take an unfair advantage of him, and reject his book,\nbecause you find the writer personally antipathetic. Or he may take an\nunfair advantage of you, and control you by his personal fascination. You\nremember the critic of Demosthenes, who remarked to him of a certain\noration, \"When I first read your speech, I was convinced, just as the\nAthenians were; but when I read it again, I saw through its fallacies.\"\n\"Yes,\" rejoined Demosthenes, \"but the Athenians heard it only once.\" A book\nyou read more than once: for you possess only what you understand. I do not\ndoubt that the best readers are those who move least in literary circles,\nwho are unprejudiced one way or the other by their personal likes or\ndislikes of literary men. How detestable are personal paragraphs about\nauthors--often, alas! autobiographical titbits. We expect a little more\nreticence: we expect the author to say what he has to say in his book, and\nnot in his talks about his book and himself. We expect him to express\nhimself and suppress himself. \"Respect the books,\" says Judah the Pious,\n\"or you show disrespect to the writer.\" No, not to the writer, but to the\nsoul whose progeny the book is, to the living intellect that bred it, in\nMilton's noble phrase, to \"an Immortality rather than a life.\" \"Many a\nman,\" he says, \"lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is the\nprecious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and treasured up on\npurpose to a life beyond life.\"\n\nIt is a sober truth that, of the books we chiefly love, we know least about\nthe authors. Perpetrating probably the only joke in his great Bodleian\nCatalogue, Dr. Steinschneider enters the Bible under the heading _Anonyma_.\nWe are nowadays so concerned to know whether Moses or another wrote the\nPentateuch, that we neglect the Pentateuch as though _no one_ had ever\nwritten it. What do we know about the personality of Shakespeare? Perhaps\nwe are happy in our ignorance. \"Sometimes,\" said Jonathan Swift, \"I read a\nbook with pleasure and detest the author.\" Most of us would say the same of\nJonathan Swift himself, and all of us, I think, share R.L. Stevenson's\nresentment against a book with the portrait of a living author, and in a\nheightened degree against an English translation of an ancient Hebrew\nclassic with the translator's portrait. Sometimes such a translator _is_\nthe author; his rendering, at all events, is not the classic. A certain\nFidentinus once stole the work of the Roman poet Martial, and read it out\nto the assembly as his own; whereupon Martial wrote this epigram,\n\n  The book you read is, Fidentinus, mine,\n  Tho' read so badly, it well may pass for thine.\n\nBut even apart from such bad taste as the aforementioned translator's, I do\nnot like to see portraits of living authors in their books. The author of a\ngood book becomes your intimate, but it is the author as you know him from\nhis book, not as you see him in the flesh or on a silver print. I quote\nStevenson again: \"When you have read, you carry away with you a memory of\nthe man himself; it is as though you had touched a loyal hand, looked into\nbrave eyes, and made a noble friend; there is another bond on you\nthenceforward, binding you to life and to the love of virtue.\"\n\nThis line of thought leads me to the further remark, that some part of\nthe solace derived from books has changed its character since the art of\nprinting was invented. In former times the personality, if not of the\nauthor, at all events of the scribe, pressed itself perforce upon the\nreader. The reader had before him, not necessarily an autograph, but at\nall events a manuscript. Printing has suppressed this individuality, and\nthe change is not all for the better. The evil consists in this, that\nwhereas of old a book, being handwritten, was clearly recognized as the\nwork of some one's hand, it now assumes, being printed, an impersonal\nimportance, which may be beyond its deserts. Especially is this the case\nwith what we may term religious authorities; we are now apt to forget\nthat behind the authority there stands simply--the author. It is\ninstructive to contrast the customary method of citing two great\ncodifiers of Jewish law--Maimonides and Joseph Caro. Caro lived in the\nage of printing, and the _Shulchan Aruch_ was the first great Jewish\nbook composed after the printing-press was in operation. The result has\nbeen, that the _Shulchan Aruch_ has become an impersonal authority,\nrarely cited by the author's name, while the _Mishneh Torah_ is mostly\nreferred to as the Rambam, _i.e._ Maimonides.\n\nFor all that, printing has been a gain, even from the point of view at\nwhich I have just arrived. Not only has it demolished the barrier which the\nscribe's personality interposed between author and reader, but, by\nincreasing the number of readers, it has added to the solace of each. For\nthe solace of books is never selfish--the book-miser is never the\nbook-lover, nor does the mere collector of rarities and preciosities\ndeserve that name, for the one hoards, but does not own; the other serves\nMammon, not God. The modern cheapening of books--the immediate result of\nprinting--not only extends culture, it intensifies culture. Your joy in a\nbook is truest when the book is cheapest, when you know that it is, or\nmight be, in the hands of thousands of others, who go with you in the\nthrong towards the same divine joy.\n\nThese sentiments are clearly those of a Philistine. The fate of that last\nword, by the way, is curious. The Philistines, Mr. Macalistcr discovered\nwhen excavating Gezer, were the only artistic people in Palestine! Using\nthe term, however, in the sense to which Matthew Arnold gave vogue, I am a\nPhilistine in taste, I suppose, for I never can bring myself nowadays to\nbuy a second-hand book. For dusty old tomes, I go to the public library;\nbut my own private books must be sweet and clean. There are many who prefer\nold copies, who revel in the inscribed names of former owners, and prize\ntheir marginal annotations. If there be some special sentimental\nassociations connected with these factors, if the books be heirlooms, and\nthe annotations come from a vanished, but beloved, hand, then the old book\nbecomes an old love. But in most cases these things seem to me the defects\nof youth, not the virtues of age; for they are usually too recent to be\nvenerable, though they are just old enough to disfigure. Let my books be\nyoung, fresh, and fragrant in their virgin purity, unspotted from the\nworld. If my copy is to be soiled, I want to do all the soiling myself. It\nis very different with a manuscript, which cannot be too old or too dowdy.\nThese are its graces. Dr. Neubauer once said to me, \"I take no interest in\na girl who has seen more than seventeen years, nor in a manuscript that has\nseen less than seven hundred.\" Alonzo of Aragon was wont to say in\ncommendation of age, that \"age appeared to be best in four things: old wood\nto burn; old wine to drink; old friends to trust; and old authors to read.\"\n\nThis, however, is not my present point, for I have too much consideration\nfor my readers to attempt to embroil them in the old \"battle of the books\"\nthat raged round the silly question whether the ancients or the moderns\nwrote better. I am discussing the age, not of the author, but of the copy.\nAs a critic, as an admirer of old printing, as an archeologist, I feel\nregard for the _editio princeps_, but as a lover I prefer the cheap\nreprint. Old manuscripts certainly have their charm, but they must have\nbeen written at least before the invention of printing. Otherwise a\nmanuscript is an anachronism--it recalls too readily the editorial\n\"declined with thanks.\" At best, the autograph original of a modern work is\na literary curiosity, it reveals the author's mechanism, not his mind. But\nold manuscripts are in a different case; their age has increased their\ncharm, mellowed and confirmed their graces, whether they be canonical\nbooks, which \"defile the hand\" in the Rabbinical sense, or Genizah-grimed\nfragments, which soil the fingers more literally. And when the dust of ages\nis removed, these old-world relics renew their youth, and stand forth as\nwitnesses to Israel's unshakable devotion to his heritage.\n\nI have confessed to one Philistine habit; let me plead guilty to another. I\nprefer to read a book rather than hear a lecture, because in the case of\nthe book I can turn to the last page first. I do like to know before I\nstart whether _he_ marries _her_ in the end or not. You cannot do this with\na spoken discourse, for you have to wait the lecturer's pleasure, and may\ndiscover to your chagrin, not only that the end is very long in coming, but\nthat when it does come, it is of such a nature that, had you foreseen it,\nyou would certainly not have been present at the beginning. The real\ninterest of a love story is its process: though you may read the\nconsummation first, you are still anxious as to the course of the\ncourtship. But, in sober earnest, those people err who censure readers for\ntrying to peep at the last page first. For this much-abused habit has a\ndeep significance when applied to life. You will remember the ritual rule,\n\"It is the custom of all Israel for the reader of the Scroll of Esther to\nread and spread out the Scroll like a letter, to make the miracle visible.\"\nI remember hearing a sermon just before Purim, in Vienna, and the Jewish\npreacher gave an admirable homiletic explanation of this rule. He pointed\nout that in the story of Esther the fate of the Jews has very dark moments,\ndestruction faces them, and hope is remote. But in the end? In the end all\ngoes well. Now, by spreading out the Megillah in folds, displaying the end\nwith the beginning, \"the miracle is made visible.\" Once Lord Salisbury,\nwhen some timid Englishmen regarded the approach of the Russians to India\nas a menace, told his countrymen to use large-scale maps, for these would\nconvince them that the Russians were not so near India after all. We Jews\nsuffer from the same nervousness. We need to use large-scale charts of\nhuman history. We need to read history in centuries, not in years. Then we\nshould see things in their true perspective, with God changeless, as men\nmove down the ringing grooves of change. We should then be fuller of\ncontent and confidence. We might gain a glimpse of the Divine plan, and\nmight perhaps get out of our habit of crying \"All is lost\" at every passing\npersecution. As if never before had there been weeping for a night! As if\nthere had not always been abounding joy the morning after! Then let us,\nlike God Himself, try to see the end in the beginning, let us spread out\nthe Scroll, so that the glory of the finish may transfigure and illumine\nthe gloom and sadness of the intermediate course, and thus \"the miracle\" of\nGod's providential love will be \"made visible\" to all who have eyes to see\nit.\n\nWhat strikes a real lover of books when he casts his eye over the fine\nthings that have been said about reading, is this: there is too much said\nabout profit, about advantage. \"Reading,\" said Bacon, \"maketh a full man,\"\nand reading has been justified a thousand times on this famous plea. But,\nsome one else, I forget who, says, \"You may as well expect to become strong\nby always eating, as wise by always reading.\" Herbert Spencer was once\nblamed by a friend for reading so little. Spencer replied, \"If I read as\nmuch as you do, I should know as little as you do.\" Too many of the\neulogies of books are utilitarian. A book has been termed \"the home\ntraveller's ship or horse,\" and libraries, \"the wardrobes of literature.\"\nAnother favorite phrase is Montaigne's, \"'Tis the best viaticum for this\nhuman journey,\" a phrase paralleled by the Rabbinic use of the Biblical\n\"provender for the way.\" \"The aliment of youth, the comfort of old age,\" so\nCicero terms books. \"The sick man is not to be pitied when he has his cure\nin his sleeve\"--that is where they used to carry their books. But I cannot\ngo through the long list of the beautiful, yet inadequate, similes that\nabound in the works of great men, many of which can be read in the\n\"Book-Lover's Enchiridion,\" to which I have already alluded.\n\nOne constant comparison is of books to friends. This is perhaps best worked\nout in one of the Epistles of Erasmus, which the \"Enchiridion\" omits: \"You\nwant to know what I am doing. I devote myself to my friends, with whom I\nenjoy the most delightful intercourse. With them I shut myself in some\ncorner, where I avoid the gaping crowd, and either speak to them in sweet\nwhispers, or listen to their gentle voices, talking with them as with\nmyself. Can anything be more convenient than this? They never hide their\nown secrets, while they keep sacred whatever is entrusted to them. They\nspeak when bidden, and when not bidden they hold their tongue. They talk of\nwhat you wish, and as long as you wish; do not flatter, feign nothing, keep\nback nothing, freely tell you of your faults, and take no man's character\naway. What they say is either amusing or wholesome. In prosperity they\nmoderate, in affliction they console; they do not vary with fortune, they\nfollow you in all dangers, and last out to the very grave. Nothing can be\nmore candid than their relations with one another. I visit them from time\nto time, now choosing one companion and now another, with perfect\nimpartiality. With these humble friends, I bury myself in seclusion. What\nwealth or what sceptres would I take in exchange for this tranquil life?\"\n\nTranquillity is a not unworthy characteristic of the scholar, but, taking\nErasmus at his word, would he not have been even a greater man than he was,\nhad he been less tranquil and more strenuous? His great role in the history\nof European culture would have been greater still, had he been readier to\nbear the rubs which come from rough contact with the world. I will not,\nhowever, allow myself to be led off into this alluring digression, whether\nbooks or experience make a man wiser. Books may simply turn a man into a\n\"learned fool,\" and, on the other hand, experience may equally fail to\nteach any of the lessons of wisdom. As Moore says:\n\n  My only books\n  Were woman's looks,\n  And folly's all they taught me.\n\nThe so-called men of the world often know little enough of the world of\nmen. It is a delusion to think that the business man is necessarily\nbusiness-like. Your business man is often the most un-business-like\ncreature imaginable. For practical ability, give me the man of letters.\nLife among books often leads to insight into the book of life. At Cambridge\nwe speak of the reading men and the sporting men. Sir Richard Jebb, when he\nwent to Cambridge, was asked, \"Do you mean to be a sporting man or a\nreading man?\" He replied, \"Neither! I want to be a man who reads.\" Marcus\nAurelius, the scholar and philosopher, was not the least efficient of the\nEmperors of Rome. James Martineau was right when he said that the student\nnot only becomes a better man, but he also becomes a better student, when\nhe concerns himself with the practical affairs of life as well as with his\nbooks. And the idea cuts both ways. We should be better men of business if\nwe were also men of books. It is not necessary to recall that the ancient\nRabbis were not professional bookmen. They were smiths and ploughmen,\ntraders and merchants, and their businesses and their trades were idealized\nand ennobled--and, may we not add, their handiwork improved?--by the\nexpenditure of their leisure in the schools and libraries of Jerusalem.\n\nAnd so all the foregoing comparisons between books and other objects of\nutility or delight, charming though some of these comparisons are, fail to\nsatisfy one. One feels that the old Jewish conception is the only\ncompletely true one: that conception which came to its climax in the\nappointment of a benediction to be uttered before beginning to read a book\nof the Law.\n\nThe real solace of books comes from the sense of service, to be rendered or\nreceived; and one must enter that holy of holies, the library, with a\ngrateful benediction on one's lip, and humility and reverence and joy in\none's soul. Of all the writers about books, Charles Lamb, in his playful\nway, comes nearest to this old-world, yet imperishable, ideal of the Jewish\nsages. He says: \"I own that I am disposed to say grace upon twenty other\noccasions in the course of the day besides my dinner. I want a form for\nsetting out on a pleasant walk, for a midnight ramble, for a friendly\nmeeting, for a solved problem. Why have we none for books, those spiritual\nrepasts--a grace before Milton,--a grace before Shakespeare,--a devotional\nexercise proper to be said before reading the Fairy Queen?\" The Jewish\nritual could have supplied Lamb with several of these graces.\n\nIt will, I hope, now be seen why in speaking on the solace of books I have\nsaid so little about consolation. It pains me to hear books praised as a\nrelief from worldly cares, to hear the library likened to an asylum for\nbroken spirits. I have never been an admirer of Boethius. His \"Consolations\nof Philosophy\" have always been influential and popular, but I like better\nthe first famous English translator than the original Latin author.\nBoethius wrote in the sixth century as a fallen man, as one to whom\nphilosophy came in lieu of the mundane glory which he had once possessed,\nand had now lost. But Alfred the Great turned the \"Consolations\" into\nEnglish at the moment of his greatest power. He translated it in the year\n886, when king on a secure throne; in his brightest days, when the Danish\nclouds had cleared. Sorrow has often produced great books, great psalms, to\nwhich the sorrowful heart turns for solace. But in the truest sense the\nShechinah rests on man only in his joy, when he has so attuned his life\nthat misfortune is but another name for good fortune. He must have learned\nto endure before he seeks the solace of communion with the souls of the\ngreat, with the soul of God. Very saddening it is to note how often men\nhave turned to books because life has no other good. The real book-lover\ngoes to his books when life is fullest of other joys, when his life is\nrichest in its manifold happiness. Then he adds the crown of joy to his\nother joys, and finds the highest happiness.\n\nI do not like to think of the circumstances under which Sir Thomas\nBodley went to Oxford to found his famous library. Not till his\ndiplomatic career was a failure, not till Elizabeth's smiles had\ndarkened into frowns, did he set up his staff at the library door. But\nBodley rather mistook himself. As a lad the library had been his joy,\nand when he was abroad, at the summit of his public fame, he turned his\ndiplomatic missions to account by collecting books and laying the\nfoundation of his future munificence. I even think that no lover of\nbooks ever loved them so well in his adversity as in his prosperity.\nAnother view was held by Don Isaac Abarbanel, the famous Jewish\nstatesman and litterateur. Under Alfonso V, of Portugal, and other\nrulers, he attained high place, but was brought low by the Inquisition,\nand shared in the expulsion of his brethren. He writes in one of his\nletters: \"The whole time I lived in the courts and palaces of kings,\noccupied in their service, I had no leisure to read or write books. My\ndays were spent in vain ambitions, seeking after wealth and honor. Now\nthat my wealth is gone, and honor has become exiled from Israel; now\nthat I am a vagabond and a wanderer on the earth, and I have no money:\nnow, I have returned to seek the book of God, as it is said, [Hebrew:\ncheth-samech-vav-resh-yod mem-cheth-samech-resh-aleph vav-hey-chaf-yod\nqof-tav-nun-yod], 'He is in sore need, therefore he studies.'\"\n\nThis is witty, but it is not wise. Fortunately, it is not quite true;\nAbarbanel does little justice to himself in this passage, for elsewhere (in\nthe preface to his Commentary on Kings) he draws a very different picture\nof his life in his brilliant court days. \"My house,\" he says, \"was an\nassembly place for the wise ... in my abode and within my walls were wealth\nand fame for the Torah and for those made great in its lore.\" Naturally,\nthe active statesman had less leisure for his books than the exiled, fallen\nminister.\n\nSo, too, with an earlier Jewish writer, Saadia. No sadder title was ever\nchosen for a work than his _Sefer ha-Galui_--\"Book of the Exiled.\" It is\nbeyond our province to enter into his career, full of stress and storm.\nBetween 933 and 937, driven from power, he retired to his library at\nBagdad, just as Cincinnatus withdrew to his farm when Rome no longer needed\nhim. During his retirement Saadia's best books were written. Why? Graetz\ntells us that \"Saadia was still under the ban of excommunication. He had,\ntherefore, no other sphere of action than that of an author.\" This is\npitiful; but, again, it is not altogether true. Saadia's whole career was\nthat of active authorship, when in power and out of power, as a boy, in\nmiddle life, in age: his constant thought was the service of truth, in so\nfar as literature can serve it, and one may well think that he felt that\nthe Crown of the Law was better worth wearing in prosperity, when he chose\nit out of other crowns, than in adversity, when it was the only crown\nwithin his reach. It was thus that King Solomon chose.\n\nSo, in speaking of the solace of books, I have ventured to employ \"solace\"\nin an old, unusual sense. \"Solace\" has many meanings. It means \"comfort in\nsorrow,\" and in Scotch law it denotes a compensation for wounded feelings,\n_solatium_, moral and intellectual damages in short. But in Chaucer and\nSpenser, \"solace\" is sometimes used as a synonym for joy and sweet\nexhilaration. This is an obsolete use, but let me hope that the thing is\nnot obsolete. For one must go to his books for solace, not in mourning\ngarb, but in gayest attire--to a wedding, not to a funeral. When John Clare\nwrote,\n\n  I read in books for happiness,\n  But books mistake the way to joy,\n\nhe read for what he ought to have brought, and thus he failed to find his\ngoal. The library has been beautifully termed the \"bridal chamber of the\nmind.\" So, too, the Apocrypha puts it in the Wisdom of Solomon:\n\n  Wisdom is radiant....\n  Her I loved and sought out from my youth,\n  And I sought to take her for my bride,\n  And I became enamored of her beauty.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  When I am come into my house, I shall find rest with her,\n  For converse with her hath no bitterness,\n  And to live with her hath no pain.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  O God of the fathers, ...\n  Give me wisdom, that sitteth by Thee on Thy throne.\n\n\n\n\nMEDIEVAL WAYFARING\n\n\nMen leave their homes because they must, or because they will. The Hebrew\nhas experienced both motives for travelling. Irresistibly driven on by his\nown destiny and by the pressure of his fellow-men, the Jew was also gifted\nwith a double share of that curiosity and restlessness which often send men\nforth of their own free will on long and arduous journeys. He has thus\nplayed the part of the Wandering Jew from choice and from necessity. He\nloved to live in the whole world, and the whole world met him by refusing\nhim a single spot that he might call his very own.\n\n  Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,\n  How shall ye flee away and be at rest!\n  The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox her cave,\n  Mankind their country,--Israel but the grave!\n\nA sad chapter of medieval history is filled with the enforced wanderings of\nthe sons of Israel. The lawgiver prophesied well, \"There shall be no rest\nfor the sole of thy foot.\" But we are not concerned here with the victim of\nexpulsion and persecution. The wayfarer with whom we shall deal is the\ntraveller, and not the exile. He was moved by no caprice but his own. He\nwill excite our admiration, perhaps our sympathy, only rarely our tears.\n\nMy subject, be it remembered, is not wayfarers, but wayfaring. Hence I am\nto tell you not the story of particular travellers, but the manner of their\ntravelling, the conditions under which they moved. Before leaving home, a\nJewish wayfarer of the Middle Ages was bound to procure two kinds of\npassport. In no country in those days was freedom of motion allowed to\nanyone. The Jew was simply a little more hampered than others. In England,\nthe Jew paid a feudal fine before he might cross the seas. In Spain, the\nsystem of exactions was very complete. No Jew could change his residence\nwithout a license even within his own town. But in addition to the\ninflictions of the Government, the Jews enacted voluntary laws of their\nown, forcing their brethren to obtain a congregational permit before\nstarting.\n\nThe reasons for this restriction were simple. In the first place, no Jew\ncould be allowed to depart at will, and leave the whole burden of the royal\ntaxes on the shoulders of those who were left behind. Hence, in many parts\nof Europe and Asia, no Jew could leave without the express consent of the\ncongregation. Even when he received the consent, it was usually on the\nunderstanding that he would continue, in his absence, to pay his share of\nthe communal dues. Sometimes even women were included in this law, as, for\ninstance, if the daughter of a resident Jew married and settled elsewhere,\nshe was forced to contribute to the taxes of her native town a sum\nproportionate to her dowry, unless she emigrated to Palestine, in which\ncase she was free. A further cause why Jews placed restrictions on free\nmovement was moral and commercial. Announcements had to be made in the\nsynagogue informing the congregation that so-and-so was on the point of\ndeparture, and anyone with claims against him could obtain satisfaction. No\nclandestine or unauthorized departure was permissible. It must not be\nthought that these communal licenses were of no service to the traveller.\nOn the contrary, they often assured him a welcome in the next town, and in\nPersia were as good as a safe-conduct. No Mohammedan would have dared defy\nthe travelling order sealed by the Jewish Patriarch.\n\nHaving obtained his two licenses, one from the Government and the other\nfrom the Synagogue, the traveller would have to consider his costume.\n\"Dress shabbily\" was the general Jewish maxim for the tourist. How\nnecessary this rule was, may be seen from what happened to Rabbi Petachiah,\nwho travelled from Prague to Nineveh, in 1175, or thereabouts. At Nineveh\nhe fell sick, and the king's physicians attended him and pronounced his\ndeath certain. Now Petachiah had travelled in most costly attire, and in\nPersia the rule was that if a Jewish traveller died, the physicians took\nhalf his property. Petachiah saw through the real danger that threatened\nhim, so he escaped from the perilous ministrations of the royal doctors,\nhad himself carried across the Tigris on a raft, and soon recovered.\nClearly, it was imprudent of a Jewish traveller to excite the rapacity of\nkings or bandits by wearing rich dresses. But it was also desirable for the\nJew, if he could, to evade recognition as such altogether. Jewish opinion\nwas very sensible on this head. It did not forbid a Jew's disguising\nhimself even as a priest of the Church, joining a caravan, and mumbling\nLatin hymns. In times of danger, he might, to save his life, don the turban\nand pass as a Mohammedan even in his home. Most remarkable concession of\nall, the Jewess on a journey might wear the dress of a man. The law of the\nland was equally open to reason. In Spain, the Jew was allowed to discard\nhis yellow badge while travelling; in Germany, he had the same privilege,\nbut he had to pay a premium for it. In some parts, the Jewish community as\na whole bought the right to travel and to discard the badge on journeys,\npaying a lump sum for the general privilege, and itself exacting a communal\ntax to defray the general cost. In Rome, the traveller was allowed to lodge\nfor ten days before resuming his hated badge. But, curiously enough, the\nlegal relaxation concerning the badge was not extended to the markets. The\nJew made the medieval markets, yet he was treated as an unwelcome guest, a\ncommodity to be taxed. This was especially so in Germany. In 1226, Bishop\nLorenz, of Breslau, ordered Jews who passed through his domain to pay the\nsame toll as slaves brought to market. The visiting Jew paid toll for\neverything; but he got part of his money back. He received a yellow badge,\nwhich he was forced to wear during his whole stay at the market, the\nfinances of which he enriched, indirectly by his trade, and directly by his\nhuge contributions to the local taxes.\n\nThe Jewish traveller mostly left his wife at home. In certain circumstances\nhe could force her to go with him, as, for instance, if he had resolved to\nsettle in Palestine. On the other hand, the wife could prevent her husband\nfrom leaving her during the first year after marriage. It also happened\nthat families emigrated together. Mostly, however, the Jewess remained at\nhome, and only rarely did she join even the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. This\nis a striking contrast to the Christian custom, for it was the Christian\nwoman that was the most ardent pilgrim; in fact, pilgrimages to the Holy\nLand only became popular in Church circles because of the enthusiasm of\nHelena, mother of Constantine the Great, especially when, in 326, she found\nthe true cross. We, however, read of an aged Jewess who made a pilgrimage\nto all the cities of Europe, for the purpose of praying in the synagogues\non her route.\n\nWe now know, from the Chronicle of Achimaaz, that Jews visited Jerusalem in\nthe tenth century. Aronius records a curious incident. Charles the Great,\nbetween the years 787 and 813, ordered a Jewish merchant, who often used to\nvisit Palestine and bring precious and unknown commodities thence to the\nWest, to hoax the Archbishop of Mainz, so as to lower the self-conceit of\nthis vain dilettante. The Jew thereupon sold him a mouse at a high price,\npersuading him that it was a rare animal, which he had brought with him\nfrom Judea. Early in the eleventh century there was a fully organized\nJewish community with a Beth-Din at Ramleh, some four hours' drive from\nJaffa. But Jews did not visit Palestine in large numbers, until Saladin\nfinally regained the Holy City for Mohammedan rule, towards the end of the\ntwelfth century. From that time pilgrimages of Jews became more frequent;\nbut the real influx of Jews into Palestine dates from 1492, when many of\nthe Spanish exiles settled there, and formed the nucleus of the present\nSefardic population.\n\nOn the whole, it may be said that in the Middle Ages the journey to\nPalestine was fraught with so much danger that it was gallantry that\ninduced men to go mostly without their wives. And, generally speaking, the\nJew going abroad to earn a living for his family, could not dream of\nallowing his wife to share the dangers and fatigues of the way. In Ellul,\n1146, Rabbi Simeon the Pious returned from England, where he had lived many\nyears, and betook himself to Cologne, thence to take ship home to Trier. On\nthe way, near Cologne, he was slain by Crusaders, because he refused\nbaptism. The Jewish community of Cologne bought the body from the citizens,\nand buried it in the Jewish cemetery.\n\nNo doubt it was often a cruel necessity that separated husband and wife.\nThe Jewish law, even in lands where monogamy was not legally enforced, did\nnot allow the Jew, however, to console himself with one wife at home and\nanother abroad. Josephus, we know, had one wife in Tiberias and another in\nAlexandria, and the same thing is told us of royal officers in the Roman\nperiod; but the Talmudic legislation absolutely forbids such license, even\nthough it did not formally prohibit a man from having more than one wife at\nhome. We hear occasionally of the wife's growing restive in her husband's\nabsence and taking another husband. In 1272, Isaac of Erfurt went on a\ntrading journey, and though he was only gone from March 9, 1271, to July,\n1272, he found, on his return, that his wife had wearied of waiting for\nhim. Such incidents on the side of the wife were very rare; the number of\ncases in which wife-desertion occurred was larger. In her husband's\nabsence, the wife's lot, at best, was not happy. \"Come back,\" wrote one\nwife, \"or send me a divorce.\" \"Nay,\" replied the husband, \"I can do\nneither. I have not yet made enough provision for us, so I cannot return.\nAnd, before Heaven, I love you, so I cannot divorce you.\" The Rabbi advised\nthat he should give her a conditional divorce, a kindly device, which\nprovided that, in case the husband remained away beyond a fixed date, the\nwife was free to make other matrimonial arrangements. The Rabbis held that\ntravelling diminishes family life, property, and reputation. Move from\nhouse to house, and you lose a shirt; go from place to place, and you lose\na life--so ran the Rabbinic proverb. This subject might be enlarged upon,\nbut enough has been said to show that this breaking up of the family life\nwas one of the worst effects of the Jewish travels of the Middle Ages, and\neven more recent times.\n\nWhether his journey was devotional or commercial, the rites of religion\nformed part of the traveller's preparations for the start. The Prayer for\nWayfarers is Talmudic in origin. It may be found in many prayer books, and\nI need not quote it. But one part of it puts so well, in a few pregnant\nwords, the whole story of danger, that I must reproduce them. On\napproaching a town, the Jew prayed, \"May it be Thy will, O Lord, to bring\nme safely to this town.\" When he had entered, he prayed, \"May it be Thy\nwill, O Lord, to take me safely from this town.\" And when he actually left,\nhe uttered similar words, pathetic and painfully significant.\n\nIn the first century of the Christian era, much travelling was entailed by\nthe conveyance of the didrachmon, sent by each Jew to the Temple from\nalmost every part of the known world. Philo says of the Jews beyond the\nEuphrates: \"Every year the sacred messengers are sent to convey large sums\nof gold and silver to the Temple, which have been collected from all the\nsubordinate Governments. They travel over rugged and difficult and almost\nimpassable roads, which, however, they look upon as level and easy,\ninasmuch as they serve to conduct them to piety.\" And the road was made\neasy in other ways.\n\nIt must often have been shortened to the imagination by the prevalent\nbelief that by supernatural aid the miles could be actually lessened. Rabbi\nNatronai was reported to be able to convey himself a several days' journey\nin a single instant. So Benjamin of Tudela tells how Alroy, who claimed to\nbe the Messiah in the twelfth century, not only could make himself visible\nor invisible at will, but could cross rivers on his turban, and, by the aid\nof the Divine Name, could travel a ten days' journey in ten hours. Another\nJewish traveller calmed the sea by naming God, another by writing the\nsacred Name on a shard, and casting it into the sea. \"Have no care,\" said\nhe, on another occasion, to his Arab comrade, as the shadows fell on a\nFriday afternoon, and they were still far from home, \"have no care, we\nshall arrive before nightfall,\" and, exercising his wonderworking powers,\nhe was as good as his word. We read in Achimaaz of the exploits of a\ntenth-century Jew who traversed Italy, working wonders, being received\neverywhere with popular acclamations. This was Aaron of Bagdad, son of a\nmiller, who, finding that a lion had eaten the mill-mule, caught the lion\nand made him do the grinding. His father sent him on his travels as a\npenalty for his dealings with magic: after three years he might return. Fie\nwent on board a ship, and assured the sailors that they need fear neither\nfoe nor storm, for he could use the Name. He landed at Gaeta in Italy,\nwhere he restored to human form the son of his host, whom a witch had\nturned into an ass. This was the beginning of many miracles. But he did not\nallow one place to monopolize him. Next we find him in Benvenuto. He goes\nto the synagogue, recognizes that a lad omits the name of God from his\nprayer, thus showing that he is dead! He goes to Oria, then to Bari, and so\nforth. Similar marvels were told in the Midrash, of travellers like Father\nJacob, and in the lives of Christian saints.\n\nBut the Jew had a real means of shortening the way--by profitable and\nedifying conversation. \"Do not travel with an Am ha-Arez,\" the olden Rabbis\nadvised. Such a one, they held, was careless of his own safety, and would\nhardly be more careful of his companion's life. But, besides, an Am\nha-Arez, using the word in its later sense of ignoramus, would be too dull\nfor edifying conversation, and one might as well or as ill journey alone as\nwith a boor. But \"thou shalt speak of them by the way,\" says Deuteronomy of\nthe commandments, and this (to say nothing of the danger) was one of the\nreasons why solitary travelling was disapproved. A man walking alone was\nmore likely to turn his mind to idle thoughts, than if he had a congenial\npartner to converse with, and the Mishnah is severe against him who turns\naside from his peripatetic study to admire a tree or a fallow. This does\nnot imply that the Jews were indifferent to the beauties of nature. Jewish\ntravellers often describe the scenery of the parts they visit, and\nPetachiah literally revels in the beautiful gardens of Persia, which he\npaints in vivid colors. Then, again, few better descriptions of a storm at\nsea have been written than those composed by Jehudah Halevi on his fatal\nvoyage to Palestine. Similarly, Charizi, another Jewish wayfarer, who\nlaughed himself over half the world, wrote verses as he walked, to relieve\nthe tedium. He is perhaps the most entertaining of all Jewish travellers.\nNothing is more amusing than his conscious habit of judging the characters\nof the men he saw by their hospitality, or the reverse, to himself. A more\nserious traveller, Maimonides, must have done a good deal of thinking on\nhorseback, to get through his ordinary day's work and write his great\nbooks. In fact, he himself informs us that he composed part of his\nCommentary to the Mishnah while journeying by land and sea. In Europe, the\nRabbis often had several neighboring congregations under their care, and on\ntheir journeys to and fro took their books with them, and read in them at\nintervals. Maharil, on such journeys, always took note of the Jewish\ncustoms observed in different localities. He was also a most skilful and\nsuccessful Shadchan, or marriage-broker, and his extensive travels placed\nthis famous Rabbi in an excellent position for match-making. Certainly, the\nmarriages he effected were notoriously prosperous, and in his hands the\nShadchan system did the most good and the least harm of which it is\ncapable.\n\nAnother type of short-distance traveller was the Bachur, or student. Not\nthat his journeys were always short, but he rarely crossed the sea. In the\nsecond century we find Jewish students in Galilee behaving as many Scotch\nyouths did before the days of Carnegie funds. These students would study in\nSepphoris in the winter, and work in the fields in summer. After the\nimpoverishment caused by the Bar-Cochba war, the students were glad to dine\nat the table of the wealthy Patriarch Judah I. In the medieval period there\nwere also such. These Bachurim, who, young as they were, were often\nmarried, accomplished enormous journeys on foot. They walked from the Rhine\nto Vienna, and from North Germany to Italy. Their privations on the road\nwere indescribable. Bad weather was naturally a severe trial. \"Hearken not\nto the prayers of wayfarers,\" was the petition of those who stayed at home.\nThis quaint Talmudic saying refers to the selfishness of travellers, who\nalways clamor for fine weather, though the farmer needs rain. Apart from\nthe weather, the Bachurim suffered much on the road. Their ordinary food\nwas raw vegetables culled from the fields; they drank nothing but water.\nThey were often accompanied by their teachers, who underwent the same\nprivations. Unlike their Talmudical precursors, they travelled much by\nnight, because it was safer, and also because they reserved the daylight\nfor study. The dietary laws make Jewish travelling particularly irksome. We\ndo, indeed, find Jews lodging at the ordinary inns, but they could not join\nthe general company at the _table d'hote_. The Sabbath, too, was the cause\nof some discomfort, though the traveller always exerted his utmost efforts\nto reach a Jewish congregation by Friday evening, sometimes, as we have\nseen, with supernatural aid.\n\nWe must interrupt this account of the Bachur to record a much earlier\ninstance of the awkward situation in which a pious Jewish traveller might\nfind himself because of the Sabbath regulations. In the very last year of\nthe fourth century, Synesius, of Cyrene, writing to his brother of his\nvoyage from Alexandria to Constantinople, supplies us with a quaint\ninstance of the manner in which the Sabbath affected Jewish travellers.\nSynesius uses a sarcastic tone, which must not be taken as seriously\nunfriendly. \"His voyage homeward,\" says Mr. Glover, \"was adventurous.\" It\nis a pity that space cannot be found for a full citation of Synesius's\nenthralling narrative. His Jewish steersman is an entertaining character.\nThere were twelve members in the crew, the steersman making the thirteenth.\nMore than half, including the steersman, were Jews. \"It was,\" says\nSynesius, \"the day which the Jews call the Preparation [Friday], and they\nreckon the night to the next day, on which they are not allowed to do any\nwork, but they pay it especial honor, and rest on it. So the steersman let\ngo the helm from his hands, when he thought the sun would have set on the\nland, and threw himself down, and 'What mariner should choose might trample\nhim!' We did not at first understand the real reason, but took it for\ndespair, and went to him and besought him not to give up all hope yet. For\nin plain fact the big rollers still kept on, and the sea was at issue with\nitself. It does this when the wind falls, and the waves it has set going do\nnot fall with it, but, still retaining in full force the impulse that\nstarted them, meet the onset of the gale, and to its front oppose their\nown. Well, when people are sailing in such circumstances, life hangs, as\nthey say, by a slender thread. But if the steersman is a Rabbi into the\nbargain, what are one's feelings? When, then, we understood what he meant\nin leaving the helm,--for when we begged him to save the ship from danger,\nhe went on reading his book,--we despaired of persuasion, and tried force.\nAnd a gallant soldier (for we have with us a good few Arabians, who belong\nto the cavalry) drew his sword, and threatened to cut his head off, if he\nwould not steer the ship. But in a moment he was a genuine Maccabee, and\nwould stick to his dogma. Yet when it was now midnight, he took his place\nof his own accord, 'for now,' says he, 'the law allows me, as we are\nclearly in danger of our lives.' At that the tumult begins again, moaning\nof men and screaming of women. Everybody began calling on Heaven, and\nwailing and remembering their dear ones. Amarantus alone was cheerful,\nthinking he was on the point of ruling out his creditors.\" Amarantus was\nthe captain, who wished to die, because he was deep in debt. What with the\ndevil-may-care captain, the Maccabean steersman, and the critical onlooker,\nwho was a devoted admirer of Hypatia, rarely has wayfaring been conducted\nunder more delightful conditions. As is often the case in life, the humors\nof the scene almost obscure the fact that the lives of the actors were in\nreal danger. But all ended well. \"As for us,\" says Synesius further on, \"as\nsoon as we reached the land we longed for, we embraced it as if it had been\na living mother. Offering, as usual, a hymn of gratitude to God, I added to\nit the recent misadventure from which we had unexpectedly been saved.\"\n\nTo return to our travelling Bachur of later centuries than Synesius's\nRabbi-steersman. On the road, the student was often attacked, but, as\nhappened with the son of the great Asheri, who was waylaid by bandits near\nToledo, the robbers did not always get the best of the fight. The Bachur\ncould take his own part. One Jew gained much notoriety in 801 by conducting\nan elephant all the way from Haroun al-Rashid's court as a present to\nCharlemagne, the king of the Franks. But the Rabbi suffered considerably\nfrom his religion on his journeys. Dr. Schechter tells us how the Gaon\nElijah got out of his carriage to say his prayer, and, as the driver knew\nthat the Rabbi would not interrupt his devotions, he promptly made off,\ncarrying away the Gaon's property.\n\nBut the account was not all on one side. If the Bachur suffered for his\nreligion, he received ample compensation. When he arrived at his\ndestination, he was welcomed right heartily. We read how cordially the\nSheliach Kolel was received in Algiers in the fifteenth to eighteenth\ncenturies. It was a great popular event, as is nowadays the visit of the\n_Alliance_ inspector. This was not the case with all Jewish travellers,\nsome of whom received a very cold shoulder from their brethren. Why was\nthis? Chiefly because the Jews, as little as the rest of medieval peoples,\nrealized that progress and enlightenment are indissolubly bound up with the\nright of free movement. They regarded the right to move here and there at\nwill as a selfish privilege of the few, not the just right of all. But more\nthan that. The Jews were forced to live in special and limited Ghettos. It\nwas not easy to find room for newcomers. When a crisis arrived, such as the\nexpulsion of the Jews from Spain, then, except here and there, the Jews\nwere generous to a fault in providing for the exiles. Societies all over\nthe Continent and round the coast of the Mediterranean spent their time and\nmoney in ransoming the poor victims, who, driven from Spain, were enslaved\nby the captains of the vessels that carried them, and were then bought back\nto freedom by their Jewish brethren.\n\nThis is a noble fact in Jewish history. But it is nevertheless true that\nJewish communities were reluctant in ordinary times to permit new\nsettlements. This was not so in ancient times. Among the Essenes, a\nnewcomer had a perfectly equal right to share everything with the old\ninhabitants. These Essenes were great travellers, going from city to city,\nprobably with propagandist aims. In the Talmudic law there are very clear\nrules on the subject of passers through a town or immigrants into it. By\nthat law persons staying in a place for less than thirty days were free\nfrom all local dues except special collections for the poor. He who stayed\nless than a year contributed to the ordinary poor relief, but was not taxed\nfor permanent objects, such as walling the town, defences, etc., nor did he\ncontribute to the salaries of teachers and officials, nor the building and\nsupport of synagogues. But as his duties were small, so were his rights.\nAfter a twelve months' stay he became a \"son of the city,\" a full member of\nthe community. But in the Middle Ages, newcomers, as already said, were not\ngenerally welcome. The question of space was one important reason, for all\nnewcomers had to stay in the Ghetto. Secondly, the newcomer was not\namenable to discipline. Local custom varied much in the details both of\nJewish and general law. The new settler might claim to retain his old\ncustoms, and the regard for local custom was so strong that the claim was\noften allowed, to the destruction of uniformity and the undermining of\nauthority. To give an instance or two: A newcomer would insist that, as he\nmight play cards in his native town, he ought not to be expected to obey\npuritanical restrictions in the place to which he came. The result was that\nthe resident Jews would clamor against foreigners enjoying special\nprivileges, as in this way all attempts to control gambling might be\ndefeated. Or the newcomer would claim to shave his beard in accordance with\nhis home custom, but to the scandal of the town which he was visiting. The\nnative young men would imitate the foreigner, and then there would be\ntrouble. Or the settler would assert his right to wear colors and fashions\nand jewelry forbidden to native Jews. Again, the marriage problem was\ncomplicated by the arrival of insinuating strangers, who turned out to be\nmarried men masquerading as bachelors. Then as to public worship--the\ncongregation was often split into fragments by the independent services\norganized by foreign groups, and it would become necessary to prohibit its\nown members from attending the synagogues of foreign settlers. Then as to\ncommunal taxes: these were fixed annually on the basis of the population,\nand the arrival of newcomers seriously disturbed the equilibrium, led to\nfresh exactions by the Government, which it was by no means certain the new\nsettlers could or would pay, and which, therefore, fell on the shoulders of\nthe old residents.\n\nWhen we consider all these facts, we can see that the eagerness of the\nmedieval Jews to control the influx of foreign settlers was only in part\nthe result of base motives. And, of course, the exclusion was not permanent\nor rigid. In Rome, the Sefardic and the Italian Jews fraternally placed\ntheir synagogues on different floors of the same building. In some German\ntowns, the foreign synagogue was fixed in the same courtyard as the native.\nEverywhere foreign Jews abounded, and everywhere a generous welcome awaited\nthe genuine traveller.\n\nAs to the travelling beggar, he was a perpetual nuisance. Yet he was\ntreated with much consideration. The policy with regard to him was, \"Send\nthe beggar further,\" and this suited the tramp, too. He did not wish to\nsettle, he wished to move on. He would be lodged for two days in the\ncommunal inn, or if, as usually happened, he arrived on Friday evening, he\nwould be billeted on some hospitable member, or the Shamash would look\nafter him at the public expense. It is not till the thirteenth century that\nwe meet regular envoys sent from Palestine to collect money.\n\nThe genuine traveller, however, was an ever-welcome guest. If he came at\nfair time, his way was smoothed for him. The Jew who visited the fair was\nonly rarely charged local taxes by the Synagogue. He deserved a welcome,\nfor he not only brought wares to sell, but he came laden with new books.\nThe fair was the only book-market At other times the Jews were dependent on\nthe casual visits of travelling venders of volumes. Book-selling does not\nseem to have been a settled occupation in the Middle Ages. The merchant who\ncame to the fair also fulfilled another function--that of Shadchan. The day\nof the fair was, in fact, the crisis of the year. Naturally, the\nletter-carrier was eagerly received. In the early part of the eighteenth\ncentury the function of conveying the post was sometimes filled by\nJewesses.\n\nEven the ordinary traveller, who had no business to transact, would often\nchoose fair time for visiting new places, for he would be sure to meet\ninteresting people then. He, too, would mostly arrive on a Friday evening,\nand would beguile the Sabbath with reports of the wonders he had seen. In\nthe great synagogue of Sepphoris, Jochanan was discoursing of the great\npearl, so gigantic in size that the Eastern gates of the Temple were to be\nbuilt of the single gem. \"Ay, ay,\" assented an auditor, who had been a\nnotorious skeptic until he had become a shipwrecked sailor, \"had not mine\nown eyes beheld such a pearl in the ocean-bed, I should not have believed\nit.\" And so the medieval traveller would tell his enthralling tales. He\nwould speak of a mighty Jewish kingdom in the East, existing in idyllic\npeace and prosperity; he would excite his auditors with news of the latest\nMessiah; he would describe the river Sambatyon, which keeps the Sabbath,\nand, mingling truth with fiction, with one breath would truly relate how he\ncrossed a river on an inflated skin, and with the next breath romance about\nHillel's tomb, how he had been there, and how he had seen a large hollow\nstone, which remains empty if a bad fellow enters, but at the approach of a\npious visitor fills up with sweet, pure water, with which he washes,\nuttering a wish at the same time, sure that it will come true. It is\nimpossible even to hint at all the wonders of the tombs. Jews were ardent\nbelievers in the supernatural power of sepulchres; they made pilgrimages to\nthem to pray and to beg favors. Jewish travellers' tales of the Middle Ages\nare heavily laden with these legends. Of course, the traveller would also\nbring genuine news about his brethren in distant parts, and sober\ninformation about foreign countries, their ways, their physical\nconformation, and their strange birds and beasts. These stories were in the\nmain true. For instance, Petachiah tells of a flying camel, which runs\nfifteen times as fast as the fleetest horse. He must have seen an ostrich,\nwhich is still called the flying camel by Arabs. But we cannot linger over\nthis matter. Suffice it to say that, as soon as Sabbath was over, the\ntraveller's narrative would be written out by the local scribe, and\ntreasured as one of the communal prizes. The traveller, on his part, often\nkept a diary, and himself compiled a description of his adventures. In some\ncongregations there was kept a Communal Note-Book, in which were entered\ndecisions brought by visiting Rabbis from other communities.\n\nThe most welcome of guests, even more welcome than long-distance\ntravellers, or globe-trotters, were the Bachurim and travelling Rabbis. The\nTalmudic Rabbis were most of them travellers. Akiba's extensive journeys\nwere, some think, designed to rouse the Jews of Asia Minor generally to\nparticipate in the insurrection against Hadrian. But my narrative must be\nat this point confined to the medieval students. For the Bachurim, or\nstudents, there was a special house in many communities, and they lived\ntogether with their teachers. In the twelfth century, the great academy of\nNarbonne, under Abraham ibn Daud, attracted crowds of foreign students.\nThese, as Benjamin of Tudela tells us, were fed and clothed at the communal\ncost. At Beaucaire, the students were housed and supported at the teacher's\nexpense. In the seventeenth century, the students not only were paid small\nbursaries, but every household entertained one or more of them at table. In\nthese circumstances their life was by no means dull or monotonous. A Jewish\nstudent endures much, but he knows how to get the best out of life. This\noptimism, this quickness of humor, saved the Rabbi and his pupil from many\na melancholy hour. Take Abraham ibn Ezra, for instance. If ever a man was\nmarked out to be a bitter reviler of fate, it was he. But he laughed at\nfate. He gaily wandered from his native Spain over many lands penniless,\ntravelled with no baggage but his thoughts, visited Italy and France, and\neven reached London, where, perhaps, he died. Fortune ill-treated him, but\nhe found many joys. Wherever he went, patrons held out their hand.\n\nTravelling students found many such generous lovers of learning, who, with\ntheir wealth, encouraged their guests to write original works or copy out\nolder books, which the patrons then passed on to poor scholars in want of a\nlibrary. The legend is told, how the prophet Elijah visited Hebron, and was\nnot \"called up\" in the synagogue. Receiving no Aliyah on earth, he returned\nto his elevation in Heaven. It was thus imprudent to deny honor to angels\nunawares. Usually the scholar was treated as such a possible angel. When he\narrived, the whole congregation would turn out to meet him. He would be\ntaken in procession to the synagogue, where he would say the benediction\nha-Gomel, in thanks for his safety on the road. Perhaps he would address\nthe congregation, though he would do that rather in the school than in the\nsynagogue. Then a banquet would be spread for him. This banquet was called\none of the Seudoth Mitzvah, _i.e._ \"commandment meals,\" to which it was a\nduty of all pious men to contribute their money and their own attendance.\nIt would be held in the communal hall, used mostly for marriage feasts.\nWhen a wedding party came from afar, similar steps for general enjoyment\nwere taken. Men mounted on horseback went forth to welcome the bride, mimic\ntournaments were fought _en route_, torch-light processions were made if it\nwere night time, processions by boats if it were in Italy or by the Rhine,\na band of communal musicians, retained at general cost, played merry\nmarches, and everyone danced and joined in the choruses. These musicians\noften went from town to town, and the Jewish players were hired for Gentile\nparties, just as Jews employed Christian or Arab musicians to help make\nmerry on the Jewish Sabbaths and festivals.\n\nWe need not wonder, then, that a traveller like Ibn Ezra was no croaker,\nbut a genial critic of life. He suffered, but he was light-hearted enough\nto compose witty epigrams and improvise rollicking wine songs. He was an\naccomplished chess player, and no doubt did something to spread the Eastern\ngame in Europe. Another service rendered by such travellers was the spread\nof learning by their translations. Their wanderings made them great\nlinguists, and they were thus able to translate medical, astronomical, and\nscientific works wherever they went. They were also sent by kings on\nmissions to collect new nautical instruments. Thus, the baculus, which\nhelped Columbus to discover America, was taken to Portugal by Jews, and a\nFrench Jew was its inventor. They were much in demand as travelling\ndoctors, being summoned from afar to effect specific cures. But they also\ncarried other delights with them. Not only were they among the troubadours,\nbut they were also the most famous of the travelling _conteurs_. It was the\nJews, like Berechiah, Charizi, Zabara, Abraham ibn Chasdai, and other\nincessant travellers, who helped to bring to Europe AEsop, Bidpai, the\nBuddhist legends, who \"translated them from the Indian,\" and were partly\nresponsible for this rich poetical gift to the Western world.\n\nLooking back on such a life, Ibn Ezra might well detect a Divine Providence\nin his own pains and sorrows. So, Jew-like, he retained his hope to the\nlast, and after his buffetings on the troubled seas of life, remembering\nthe beneficent results of his travels to others, if not to himself, he\ncould write in this faithful strain:\n\n  My hope God knoweth well,\n  My life He made full sweet;\n  Whene'er His servant fell,\n  God raised him to his feet.\n  Within the garment of His grace,\n  My faults He did enfold,\n  Hiding my sin, His kindly face\n  My God did ne'er withhold.\n  Requiting with fresh good,\n  My black ingratitude.\n\nThere remain the great merchant travellers to be told about. They sailed\nover all the world, and brought to Europe the wares, the products, the\nluxuries of the East. They had their own peculiar dangers. Shipwreck was\nthe fate of others besides themselves, but they were peculiarly liable to\ncapture and sale as slaves. Foremost among their more normal hardships I\nshould place the bridge laws of the Middle Ages. The bridges were sometimes\npractically maintained by the Jewish tolls. In England, before 1290, a Jew\npaid a toll of a halfpenny on foot and a full penny on horseback--large\nsums in those days. A \"dead Jew\" paid eightpence. Burial was for a long\ntime lawful only in London, and the total toll paid for bringing a dead Jew\nto London over the various bridges must have been considerable. In the\nKurpfalz, for instance, the Jewish traveller had to pay the usual \"white\npenny\" for every mile, but also a heavy general fee for the whole journey.\nIf he was found without his ticket of leave, he was at once arrested. But\nit was when he came to a bridge that the exactions grew insufferable. The\nregulations were somewhat tricky, for the Jew was specially taxed only on\nSundays and the Festivals of the Church. But every other day was some\nSaint's Festival, and while, in Mannheim, even on those days the Christian\ntraveller paid one kreuzer if he crossed the bridge on foot, and two if on\nhorseback, the Jew was charged four kreuzer if on foot, twelve if on a\nhorse, and for every beast of burden he, unlike the Christian wayfarer,\npaid a further toll of eight kreuzer. The Jewish quarter often lay near the\nriver, and Jews had great occasion for crossing the bridges, even for local\nneeds. In Venice, the Jewish quarter was naturally intersected by bridges;\nin Rome there was the _pons Judeorum,_ which, no doubt, the Jews had to\nmaintain in repair. It must be remembered that many local Jewish\ncommunities paid a regular bridge tax which was not exacted from\nChristians, and when all this is considered, it will be seen that the\nJewish merchant needed to work hard and go far afield, if he was to get any\nprofit from his enterprises.\n\nNevertheless, these Jews owned horses and caravans, and sailed their own\nships long before the time when great merchants, like the English Jew\nAntonio Fernandes Carvajal, traded in their own vessels between London and\nthe Canaries. We hear of Palestinian Jews in the third century and of\nItalian Jews in the fifth century with ships of their own. Jewish sailors\nabounded on the Mediterranean, which tended to become a Jewish lake. The\ntrade routes of the Jews were chiefly two. \"By one route,\" says Beazley,\n\"they sailed from the ports of France and Italy to the Isthmus of Suez, and\nthence down the Red Sea to India and Farther Asia. By another course, they\ntransported the goods of the West to the Syrian coast; up the Orontes to\nAntioch; down the Euphrates to Bassora; and so along the Persian Gulf to\nOman and the Southern Ocean.\" Further, there were two chief overland\nroutes. On the one side merchants left Spain, traversed the straits of\nGibraltar, went by caravan from Tangier along the northern fringe of the\ndesert, to Egypt, Syria, and Persia. This was the southern route. Then\nthere was the northern route, through Germany, across the country of the\nSlavs to the Lower Volga; thence, descending the river, they sailed across\nthe Caspian. Then the traveller proceeded along the Oxus valley to Balkh,\nand, turning north-east, traversed the country of the Tagazgaz Turks, and\nfound himself at last on the frontier of China. When one realizes the\nextent of such a journey, it is not surprising to hear that the greatest\nauthorities are agreed that in the Middle Ages, before the rise of the\nItalian trading republics, the Jews were the chief middlemen between Europe\nand Asia. Their vast commercial undertakings were productive of much good.\nNot only did the Jews bring to Europe new articles of food and luxury, but\nthey served the various States as envoys and as intelligencers. The great\nAnglo-Jewish merchant Carvajal provided Cromwell with valuable information,\nas other Jewish merchants had done to other rulers of whom they were loyal\nservants. In the fifteenth century Henry of Portugal applied to Jews for\nintelligence respecting the interior of Africa, and a little later John,\nking of the same land, derived accurate information respecting India from\ntwo Jewish travellers that had spent many years at Ormuz and Calcutta. But\nit is unnecessary to add more facts of this type. The Jewish merchant\ntraveller was no mere tradesman. He observed the country, especially did he\nnote the numbers and occupations of the Jews, their synagogues, their\nschools, their vices, and their virtues.\n\nIn truth, the Jewish traveller, as he got farther from home, was more at\nhome than many of his contemporaries of other faiths when they were at\nhome. He kept alive that sense of the oneness of Judaism which could be\nmost strongly and completely achieved because there was no political bias\nto separate it into hostile camps.\n\nBut the interest between the traveller and his home was maintained by\nanother bond. A striking feature of Jewish wayfaring life was the writing\nof letters home. The \"Book of the Pious,\" composed about 1200, says: \"He\nthat departs from the city where his father and mother live, and travels to\na place of danger, and his father and mother are anxious on account of him;\nit is the bounden duty of the son to hire a messenger as soon as he can and\ndespatch a letter to his father and mother, telling them when he departs\nfrom the place of danger, that their anxiety may be allayed.\" Twice a year\nall Jews wrote family letters, at the New Year and the Passover, and they\nsent special greetings on birthdays. But the traveller was the chief\nletter-writer. \"O my father,\" wrote the famous Obadiah of Bertinoro, in\n1488, \"my departure from thee has caused thee sorrow and suffering, and I\nam inconsolable that I was forced to leave at the time when age was\ncreeping on thee. When I think of thy grey hairs, which I no longer see, my\neyes flow over with tears. But if the happiness of serving thee in person\nis denied to me, yet I can at least serve thee as thou desirest, by writing\nto thee of my journey, by pouring my soul out to thee, by a full narrative\nof what I have seen and of the state and manners of the Jews in all the\nplaces where I have dwelt.\" After a long and valuable narrative, he\nconcludes in this loving strain: \"I have taken me a house in Jerusalem near\nthe synagogue, and my window overlooks it. In the court where my house is,\nthere live five women, and only one other man besides myself. He is blind,\nand his wife attends to my needs. God be thanked, I have escaped the\nsickness which affects nearly all travellers here. And I entreat you, weep\nnot at my absence, but rejoice in my joy, that I am in the Holy City. I\ntake God to witness that here the thought of all my sufferings vanishes,\nand but one image is before my eyes, thy dear face, O my father. Let me\nfeel that I can picture that face to me, not clouded with tears, but lit\nwith joy. You have other children around you; make them your joy, and let\nmy letters, which I will ever and anon renew, bring solace to your age, as\nyour letters bring solace to me.\"\n\nMuch more numerous than the epistles of sons to fathers are the letters of\nfathers to their families. When these come from Palestine, there is the\nsame mingling of pious joy and human sorrow--joy to be in the Holy Land,\nsorrow to be separated from home. Another source of grief was the\ndesolation of Palestine.\n\nOne such letter-writer tells sadly how he walked through the market at\nZion, thought of the past, and only kept back his tears lest the Arab\nonlookers should see and ridicule his sorrow. Yet another medieval\nletter-writer, Nachmanides, reaches the summit of sentiment in these lines,\nwhich I take from Dr. Schechter's translation: \"I was exiled by force from\nhome, I left my sons and daughters; and with the dear and sweet ones whom I\nbrought up on my knees, I left my soul behind me. My heart and my eyes will\ndwell with them forever. But O! the joy of a day in thy courts, O\nJerusalem! visiting the ruins of the Temple and crying over the desolate\nSanctuary; where I am permitted to caress thy stones, to fondle thy dust,\nand to weep over thy ruins. I wept bitterly, but found joy in my tears.\"\n\nAnd with this thought in our mind we will take leave of our subject. It is\nthe traveller who can best discern, amid the ruins wrought by man, the hope\nof a Divine rebuilding. Over the heavy hills of strife, he sees the coming\ndawn of peace. The world must still pass through much tribulation before\nthe new Jerusalem shall arise, to enfold in its loving embrace all\ncountries and all men. But the traveller, more than any other, hastens the\ngood time. He overbridges seas, he draws nations nearer; he shows men that\nthere are many ways of living and of loving. He teaches them to be\ntolerant; he humanizes them by presenting their brothers to them. The\ntraveller it is who prepares a way in the wilderness, who makes straight in\nthe desert a highway for the Lord.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOX'S HEART\n\n\nPliny says that by eating the palpitating heart of a mole one acquires the\nfaculty of divining future events. In \"Westward Ho!\" the Spanish prisoners\nbeseech their English foe, Mr. Oxenham, not to leave them in the hands of\nthe Cimaroons, for the latter invariably ate the hearts of all that fell\ninto their hands, after roasting them alive. \"Do you know,\" asks Mr. Alston\nin the \"Witch's Head,\" \"what those Basutu devils would have done if they\nhad caught us? They would have skinned us, and made our hearts into _mouti_\n[medicine] and eaten them, to give them the courage of the white man.\" Ibn\nVerga, the author of a sixteenth century account of Jewish martyrs, records\nthe following strange story: \"I have heard that some people in Spain once\nbrought the accusation that they had found, in the house of a Jew, a lad\nslain, and his breast rent near the heart. They asserted that the Jews had\nextracted his heart to employ it at their festival. Don Solomon, the\nLevite, who was a learned man and a Cabbalist, placed the Holy Name under\nthe lad's tongue. The lad then awoke and told who had slain him, and who\nhad removed his heart, with the object of accusing the poor Jews. I have\nnot,\" adds the author of the _Shebet Jehudah_, \"seen this story in writing,\nbut I have heard it related.\"\n\nWe have the authority of Dr. Ploss for the statement that among the Slavs\nwitches produce considerable disquiet in families, into which, folk say,\nthey penetrate in the disguise of hens or butterflies. They steal the\nhearts of children in order to eat them. They strike the child on the left\nside with a little rod; the breast opens, and the witches tear out the\nheart, and devour every atom of it. Thereupon the wound closes up of\nitself, without leaving a trace of what has been done. The child dies\neither immediately or soon afterwards, as the witch chooses. Many\nchildren's illnesses are attributed to this cause. If one of these witches\nis caught asleep, the people seize her, and move her so as to place her\nhead where her feet were before. On awaking, she has lost all her power for\nevil, and is transformed into a medicine-woman, who is acquainted with the\nhealing effects of every herb, and aids in curing children of their\ndiseases. In Heine's poem, \"The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar,\" the love-lorn youth\nseeks the cure of his heart's ill by placing a waxen heart on the shrine.\nThis is unquestionably the most exquisite use in literature of the heart as\na charm.\n\nTwo or three of the stories that I have noted down on the gruesome subject\nof heart-eating have been given above. Such ideas were abhorrent to the\nJewish conscience, and the use of the heart torn from a living animal was\nregarded as characteristic of idolatry (Jerusalem Talmud, _Aboda Zara_, ii,\n41b). In the Book of Tobit a fish's heart plays a part, but it is detached\nfrom the dead animal, and is not eaten. It forms an ingredient of the smoke\nwhich exorcises the demon that is troubling the heroine Sarah.\n\nI have not come across any passage in the Jewish Midrashim that ascribes to\n\"heart-eating,\" even in folk-lore, the virtue of bestowing wisdom.\nAristotle seems to lend his authority to some such notion as that I have\nquoted from Pliny, when he says, \"Man alone presents the phenomenon of\nheart-beating, because he alone is moved by hope and by expectation of what\nis coming.\" As George H. Lewes remarked, it is quite evident that Aristotle\ncould never have held a bird in his hand. The idea, however, that eating\nthe heart of an animal has wisdom-conferring virtue seems to underlie a\nvery interesting Hebrew fable published by Dr. Steinschneider, in his\n_Alphabetum Siracidis_. The Angel of Death had demanded of God the power to\nslay all living things.\n\n  \"The Holy One replied, 'Cast a pair of each species into the sea, and\n  then thou shalt have dominion over all that remain of the species.' The\n  Angel did so forthwith, and he cast a pair of each kind into the sea.\n  When the fox saw what he was about, what did he do? At once he stood and\n  wept. Then said the Angel of Death unto him, 'Why weepest thou?' 'For my\n  companions, whom thou hast cast into the sea,' answered the fox. 'Where,\n  then, are thy companions?' said the Angel. The fox ran to the sea-shore\n  [with his wife], and the Angel of Death beheld the reflection of the fox\n  in the water, and he thought that he had already cast in a pair of foxes,\n  so, addressing the fox by his side, he cried, 'Be off with you!' The fox\n  at once fled and escaped. The weasel met him, and the fox related what\n  had happened, and what he had done; and so the weasel went and did\n  likewise.\n\n  \"At the end of the year, the leviathan assembled all the creatures in the\n  sea, and lo! the fox and the weasel were missing, for they had not come\n  into the sea. He sent to ask, and he was told how the fox and the weasel\n  had escaped through their wisdom. They taunted the leviathan, saying,\n  'The fox is exceedingly cunning.' The leviathan felt uneasy and envious,\n  and he sent a deputation of great fishes, with the order that they were\n  to deceive the fox, and bring him before him. They went, and found him by\n  the sea-shore. When the fox saw the fishes disporting themselves near the\n  bank, he was surprised, and he went among them. They beheld him, and\n  asked, 'Who art thou?' 'I am the fox,' said he. 'Knowest thou not,'\n  continued the fishes, 'that a great honor is in store for thee, and that\n  we have come here on thy behalf?' 'What is it?' asked the fox. 'The\n  leviathan,' they said, 'is sick, and like to die. He has appointed thee\n  to reign in his stead, for he has heard that thou art wiser and more\n  prudent than all other animals. Come with us, for we are his messengers,\n  and are here to thy honor.' 'But,' objected the fox, 'how can I come into\n  the sea without being drowned?' 'Nay,' said the fishes; 'ride upon one of\n  us, and he will carry thee above the sea, so that not even a drop of\n  water shall touch so much as the soles of thy feet, until thou reachest\n  the kingdom. We will take thee down without thy knowing it. Come with us,\n  and reign over us, and be king, and be joyful all thy days. No more wilt\n  thou need to seek for food, nor will wild beasts, stronger than thou,\n  meet thee and devour thee.'\n\n  \"The fox heard and believed their words. He rode upon one of them, and\n  they went with him into the sea. Soon, however, the waves dashed over\n  him, and he began to perceive that he had been tricked. 'Woe is me!'\n  wailed the fox, 'what have I done? I have played many a trick on others,\n  but these fishes have played one on me worth all mine put together. Now I\n  have fallen into their hands, how shall I free myself? Indeed,' he said,\n  turning to the fishes, 'now that I am fully in your power, I shall speak\n  the truth. What are you going to do with me?' 'To tell thee the truth,'\n  replied the fishes, 'the leviathan has heard thy fame, that thou art very\n  wise, and he said, I will rend the fox, and will eat his heart, and thus\n  I shall become wise.' 'Oh!' said the fox, 'why did you not tell me the\n  truth at first? I should then have brought my heart with me, and I should\n  have given it to King Leviathan, and he would have honored me; but now ye\n  are in an evil plight.' 'What! thou hast not thy heart with thee?'\n  'Certainly not. It is our custom to leave our heart at home while we go\n  about from place to place. When we need our heart, we take it; otherwise\n  it remains at home.' 'What must we do?' asked the bewildered fishes. 'My\n  house and dwelling-place,' replied the fox, 'are by the sea-shore. If you\n  like, carry me back to the place whence you brought me, I will fetch my\n  heart, and will come again with you. I will present my heart to\n  Leviathan, and he will reward me and you with honors. But if you take me\n  thus, without my heart, he will be wroth with you, and will devour you. I\n  have no fear for myself, for I shall say unto him: My lord, they did not\n  tell me at first, and when they did tell me, I begged them to return for\n  my heart, but they refused.' The fishes at once declared that he was\n  speaking well. They conveyed him back to the spot on the sea-shore whence\n  they had taken him. Off jumped the fox, and he danced with joy. He threw\n  himself on the sand, and laughed. 'Be quick,' cried the fishes, 'get thy\n  heart, and come.' But the fox answered, 'You fools! Begone! How could I\n  have come with you without my heart? Have you any animals that go about\n  without their hearts?' 'Thou hast tricked us,' they moaned. 'Fools! I\n  tricked the Angel of Death, how much more easily a parcel of silly\n  fishes.'\n\n  \"They returned in shame, and related to their master what had happened.\n  'In truth,' he said, 'he is cunning, and ye are simple. Concerning you\n  was it said, The turning away of the simple shall slay them [Prov. i:32].\n  Then the leviathan ate the fishes.\"\n\nMetaphorically, the Bible characterizes the fool as a man \"without a\nheart,\" and it is probably in the same sense that modern Arabs describe the\nbrute creation as devoid of hearts. The fox in the narrative just given\nknew better. Not so, however, the lady who brought a curious question for\nher Rabbi to solve. The case to which I refer may be found in the\n_Responsa_ Zebi Hirsch. Hirsch's credulous questioner asserted that she had\npurchased a live cock, but on killing and drawing it, she had found that it\npossessed no heart. The Rabbi refused very properly to believe her. On\ninvestigating the matter, he found that, while she was dressing the cock,\ntwo cats had been standing near the table. The Rabbi assured his questioner\nthat there was no need to inquire further into the whereabouts of the\ncock's heart.\n\nOut of the crowd of parallels to the story of the fox's heart supplied by\nthe labors of Benfey, I select one given in the second volume of the\nlearned investigator's _Pantschatantra_. A crocodile had formed a close\nfriendship with a monkey, who inhabited a tree close to the water side. The\nmonkey gave the crocodile nuts, which the latter relished heartily. One day\nthe crocodile took some of the nuts home to his wife. She found them\nexcellent, and inquired who was the donor. \"If,\" she said, when her husband\nhad told her, \"he feeds on such ambrosial nuts, this monkey's heart must be\nambrosia itself. Bring me his heart, that I may eat it, and so be free from\nage and death.\" Does not this version supply a more probable motive than\nthat attributed in the Hebrew story to the leviathan? I strongly suspect\nthat the Hebrew fable has been pieced together from various sources, and\nthat the account given by the fishes, viz. that the leviathan was ill, was\nactually the truth in the original story. The leviathan would need the\nfox's heart, not to become wise, but in order to save his life.\n\nTo return to the crocodile. He refuses to betray his friend, and his wife\naccuses him of infidelity. His friend, she maintains, is not a monkey at\nall, but a lady-love of her husband's. Else why should he hesitate to obey\nher wishes? \"If he is not your beloved, why will you not kill him? Unless\nyou bring me his heart, I will not taste food, but will die.\" Then the\ncrocodile gives in, and in the most friendly manner invites the monkey to\npay him and his wife a visit. The monkey consents unsuspectingly, but\ndiscovers the truth, and escapes by adopting the same ruse as that employed\nby the fox. He asserts that he has left his heart behind on his tree.\n\nThat eating the heart of animals was not thought a means of obtaining\nwisdom among the Jews, may be directly inferred from a passage in the\nTalmud (_Horayoth_, 13b). Among five things there enumerated as \"causing a\nman to forget what he has learned,\" the Talmud includes \"eating the hearts\nof animals.\" Besides, in certain well-known stories in the Midrash, where a\nfox eats some other animal's heart, his object is merely to enjoy a titbit.\n\nOne such story in particular deserves attention. There are at least three\nversions of it. The one is contained in the _Mishle Shualim_, or\n\"Fox-Stories,\" by Berechiah ha-Nakdan (no. 106), the second in the _Hadar\nZekenim_ (fol. 27b), and the third in the _Midrash Yalkut_, on Exodus (ed.\nVenice, 56a). Let us take the three versions in the order named.\n\nA wild boar roams in a lion's garden. The lion orders him to quit the place\nand not defile his residence. The boar promises to obey, but next morning\nhe is found near the forbidden precincts. The lion orders one of his ears\nto be cut off. He then summons the fox, and directs that if the boar still\npersists in his obnoxious visits, no mercy shall be shown to him. The boar\nremains obstinate, and loses his ears (one had already gone!) and eyes, and\nfinally he is killed. The lion bids the fox prepare the carcass for His\nMajesty's repast, but the fox himself devours the boar's heart. When the\nlion discovers the loss, the fox quiets his master by asking, \"If the boar\nhad possessed a heart, would he have been so foolish as to disobey you so\npersistently?\"\n\nThe king of the beasts, runs the story in the second of the three versions,\nappointed the ass as keeper of the tolls. One day King Lion, together with\nthe wolf and the fox, approached the city. The ass came and demanded the\ntoll of them. Said the fox, \"You are the most audacious of animals. Don't\nyou see that the king is with us?\" But the ass answered, \"The king himself\nshall pay,\" and he went and demanded the toll of the king. The lion rent\nhim to pieces, and the fox ate the heart, and excused himself as in the\nformer version.\n\nThe _Yalkut_, or third version, is clearly identical with the preceding,\nfor, like it, the story is quoted to illustrate the Scriptural text\nreferring to Pharaoh's heart becoming hard. In this version, however, other\nanimals accompany the lion and the fox, and the scene of the story is on\nboard ship. The ass demands the fare, with the same _denouement_ as before.\n\nWhat induced the fox to eat the victim's heart? The ass is not remarkable\nfor wisdom, nor is the boar. Hence the wily Reynard can scarcely have\nthought to add to his store of cunning by his surreptitious meal.\n\nHearts, in folk-lore, have been eaten for revenge, as in the grim story of\nthe lover's heart told by Boccaccio. The jealous husband forces his wife,\nwhose fidelity he doubts, to make a meal of her supposed lover's heart. In\nthe story of the great bird's egg, again, the brother who eats the heart\nbecomes rich, but not wise. Various motives, no doubt, are assigned in\nother _Maerchen_ for choosing the heart; but in these particular Hebrew\nfables, it is merely regarded as a _bonne bouche_. Possibly the Talmudic\ncaution, that eating the heart of a beast brings forgetfulness, may have a\nmoral significance; it may mean that one who admits bestial passions into\nhis soul will be destitute of a mind for nobler thoughts. This suggestion I\nhave heard, and I give it for what it may be worth. As a rule, there is no\nmorality in folk-lore; stories with morals belong to the later and more\nartificial stage of poet-lore. Homiletical folk-lore, of course, stands on\na different basis.\n\nNow, in the _Yalkut_ version of the fox and the lion fable, all that we are\ntold is, \"The fox saw the ass's heart; he took it, and ate it.\" But\nBerechiah leaves us in no doubt as to the fox's motive. \"The fox saw that\nhis heart was fat, and so he took it.\" In the remaining version, \"The fox\nsaw that the heart was good, so he ate it.\" This needs no further comment.\n\nOf course, it has been far from my intention to dispute that the heart was\nregarded by Jews as the seat both of the intellect and the feelings, of all\nmental and spiritual functions, indeed. The heart was the best part of man,\nthe fount of life; hence Jehudah Halevi's well-known saying, \"Israel is to\nthe world as the heart to the body.\" An intimate connection was also\nestablished, by Jews and Greeks alike, between the physical condition of\nthe heart and man's moral character. It was a not unnatural thought that\nformer ages were more pious than later times. \"The heart of Rabbi Akiba was\nlike the door of the porch [which was twenty cubits high], the heart of\nRabbi Eleazar ben Shammua was like the door of the Temple [this was only\nten cubits high], while our hearts are only as large as the eye of a\nneedle.\" But I am going beyond my subject. To collect all the things,\npretty and the reverse, that have been said in Jewish literature about the\nheart, would need more leisure, and a great deal more learning, than I\npossess. So I will conclude with a story, pathetic as well as poetical,\nfrom a Jewish medieval chronicle.\n\nA Mohammedan king once asked a learned Rabbi why the Jews, who had in times\nlong past been so renowned for their bravery, had in later generations\nbecome subdued, and even timorous. The Rabbi, to prove that captivity and\npersecution were the cause of the change, proposed an experiment. He bade\nthe king take two lion's whelps, equally strong and big. One was tied up,\nthe other was allowed to roam free in the palace grounds. They were fed\nalike, and after an interval both were killed. The king's officers found\nthat the heart of the captive lion was but one-tenth as large as that of\nhis free companion, thus evidencing the degenerating influence of slavery.\nThis is meant, no doubt, as a fable, but, at least, it is not without a\nmoral. The days of captivity are gone, and it may be hoped that Jewish\nlarge-heartedness has come back with the breath of freedom.\n\n\n\n\n\"MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN\"\n\n\n  \"The Omnipresent,\" said a Rabbi, \"is occupied in making marriages.\" The\n  levity of the saying lies in the ear of him who hears it; for by\n  marriages the speaker meant all the wondrous combinations of the\n  universe, whose issue makes our good and evil.\n\n  _George Eliot_\n\nThe proverb that I have set at the head of these lines is popular in every\nlanguage of Europe. Need I add that a variant may be found in Chinese? The\nOld Man of the Moon unites male and female with a silken, invisible thread,\nand they cannot afterwards be separated, but are destined to become man and\nwife. The remark of the Rabbi quoted in \"Daniel Deronda\" carries the\nproverb back apparently to a Jewish origin; and it is, indeed, more than\nprobable that the Rabbinical literature is the earliest source to which\nthis piece of folk-philosophy can be traced.\n\nGeorge Eliot's Rabbi was Jose bar Chalafta, and his remark was made to a\nlady, possibly a Roman matron of high quality, in Sepphoris. Rabbi Jose was\nevidently an adept in meeting the puzzling questions of women, for as many\nas sixteen interviews between him and \"matrons\" are recorded in Agadic\nliterature. Whether because prophetic of its subsequent popularity, or for\nsome other reason, this particular dialogue in which Rabbi Jose bore so\nconspicuous a part is repeated in the _Midrash Rabba_ alone not less than\nfour times, besides appearing in other Midrashim. It will be as well, then,\nto reproduce the passage in a summarized form, for it may be fairly\ndescribed as the _locus classicus_ on the subject.\n\n  \"How long,\" she asked, \"did it take God to create the world?\" and Rabbi\n  Jose informed her that the time occupied was six days. \"What has God been\n  doing since that time?\" continued the matron. \"The Holy One,\" answered\n  the Rabbi, \"has been sitting in Heaven arranging marriages.\"--\"Indeed!\"\n  she replied, \"I could do as much myself. I have thousands of slaves, and\n  could marry them off in couples in a single hour. It is easy enough.\"--\"I\n  hope that you will find it so,\" said Rabbi Jose. \"In Heaven it is thought\n  as difficult as the dividing of the Red Sea.\" He then took his departure,\n  while she assembled one thousand men-servants and as many maid-servants,\n  and, marking them off in pairs, ordered them all to marry. On the day\n  following this wholesale wedding, the poor victims came to their mistress\n  in a woeful plight. One had a broken leg, another a black eye, a third a\n  swollen nose; all were suffering from some ailment, but with one voice\n  they joined in the cry, \"Lady, unmarry us again!\" Then the matron sent\n  for Rabbi Jose, admitted that she had underrated the delicacy and\n  difficulty of match-making, and wisely resolved to leave Heaven for the\n  future to do its work in its own way.\n\nThe moral conveyed by this story may seem, however, to have been idealized\nby George Eliot almost out of recognition. This is hardly the case. Genius\npenetrates into the heart, even from a casual glance at the face of things.\nThough it is unlikely that she had ever seen the full passages in the\nMidrash to which she was alluding, yet her insight was not at fault. For\nthe saying that God is occupied in making marriages is, in fact, associated\nin some passages of the Midrash with the far wider problems of man's\ndestiny, with the universal effort to explain the inequalities of fortune,\nand the changes with which the future is heavy.\n\nRabbi Jose's proverbial explanation of connubial happiness was not merely a\n_bon mot_ invented on the spur of the moment, to silence an awkward\nquestioner. It was a firm conviction, which finds expression in more than\none quaint utterance, but also in more than one matter-of-fact assertion.\nTo take the latter first:\n\n  \"Rabbi Phineas in the name of Rabbi Abbahu said, We find in the Torah, in\n  the Prophets, and in the Holy Writings, evidence that a man's wife is\n  chosen for him by the Holy One, blessed be He. Whence do we deduce it in\n  the Torah? From Genesis xxiv. 50: _Then Laban and Bethuel answered and\n  said_ [in reference to Rebekah's betrothal to Isaac], _The thing\n  proceedeth from the Lord._ In the Prophets it is found in Judges xiv. 4\n  [where it is related how Samson wished to mate himself with a woman in\n  Timnath, of the daughters of the Philistines], _But his father and mother\n  knew not that it was of the Lord._ In the Holy Writings the same may be\n  seen, for it is written (Proverbs xix. 14), _House and riches are the\n  inheritance of fathers, but a prudent wife is from the Lord._\"\n\nMany years ago, a discussion was carried on in the columns of _Notes and\nQueries_ concerning the origin of the saying round which my present\ndesultory jottings are centred. One correspondent, with unconscious\nplagiarism, suggested that the maxim was derived from Proverbs xix. 14.\n\nAnother text that might be appealed to is Tobit vi. 18. The Angel\nencourages Tobit to marry Sarah, though her seven husbands, one after the\nother, had died on their wedding eves. \"Fear not,\" said Raphael, \"for _she\nis appointed unto thee from the beginning_.\"\n\nHere we may, for a moment, pause to consider whether any parallels to the\nbelief in Heaven-made marriages exist in other ancient literatures. It\nappears in English as early as Shakespeare:\n\n  God, the best maker of all marriages,\n  Combine your hearts in one.\n\n             _Henry V., v. 2._\n\nThis, however, is too late to throw any light on its origin. With a little\ningenuity, one might, perhaps, torture some such notion out of certain\nfantastic sentences of Plato. In the _Symposium_ (par. 192), however, God\nis represented as putting obstacles in the way of the union of fitting\nlovers, in consequence of the wickedness of mankind. When men become, by\ntheir conduct, reconciled with God, they may find their true loves.\nAstrological divinations on the subject are certainly common enough in\nEastern stories; a remarkable instance will be given later on. At the\npresent day, Lane tells us, the numerical value of the letters in the names\nof the two parties to the contract are added for each name separately, and\none of the totals is subtracted from the other. If the remainder is uneven,\nthe inference drawn is favorable; but if even, the reverse. The pursuit of\nGematria is apparently not limited to Jews. Such methods, however, hardly\nillustrate my present point, for the identity of the couple is not\ndiscovered by the process. Whether the diviner's object is to make this\ndiscovery, or the future lot of the married pair is all that he seeks to\nreveal, in both cases, though he charm never so wisely, it does not fall\nwithin the scope of this inquiry. Without stretching one's imagination too\nmuch, some passages in the _Pantschatantra_ seem to imply a belief that\nmarriage-making is under the direct control of Providence. Take, for\ninstance, the story of the beautiful princess who was betrothed to a\nserpent, Deva Serma's son. Despite the various attempts made to induce her\nto break off so hideous a match, she declines steadfastly to go back from\nher word, and bases her refusal on the ground that the marriage was\ninevitable and destined by the gods.\n\nAs quaint illustrations may be instanced the following: \"Raba heard a\ncertain man praying that he might marry a certain damsel; Raba rebuked him\nwith the words: 'If she be destined for thee, nothing will part thee from\nher; if thou art not destined for her, thou art denying Providence in\npraying for her.' Afterwards Raba heard him say, 'If I am not destined to\nmarry her, I hope that either I or she may die,'\" meaning that he could not\nbear to witness her union with another. Despite Raba's protest, other\ninstances are on record of prayers similar to the one of which he\ndisapproved. Or, again, the Midrash offers a curious illustration of Psalm\nlxii. 10, \"Surely men of low degree are a breath, and men of high degree a\nlie.\" The first clause of the verse alludes to those who say in the usual\nway of the world, that a certain man is about to wed a certain maiden, and\nthe second clause to those who say that a certain maiden is about to wed a\ncertain man. In both cases people are in error in thinking that the various\nparties are acting entirely of their own free will; as a matter of fact,\nthe whole affair is predestined. I am not quite certain whether the same\nidea is intended by the _Yalkut Reubeni_, in which the following occurs:\n\"Know that all religious and pious men in this our generation are henpecked\nby their wives, the reason being connected with the mystery of the Golden\nCalf. The men on that occasion did not protest against the action of the\nmixed multitude [at whose door the charge of making the calf is laid],\nwhile the women were unwilling to surrender their golden ornaments for\nidolatrous purposes. Therefore they rule over their husbands.\" One might\nalso quote the bearing of the mystical theory of transmigration on the\npredestination of bridal pairs. In the Talmud, on the other hand, the\nvirtues of a man's wife are sometimes said to be in proportion to the\nhusband's own; or in other words, his own righteousness is the cause of his\nacquiring a good wife. The obvious objection, raised by the Talmud itself,\nis that a man's merits can hardly be displayed before his birth--and yet\nhis bride is destined for him at that early period.\n\nYet more quaint (I should perhaps rather term it consistent, were not\nconsistency rare enough to be indistinguishable from quaintness) was the\nconfident belief of a maiden of whom mention is made in the _Sefer\nha-Chasidim_ (par. 384). She refused persistently to deck her person with\nornaments. People said to her, \"If you go about thus unadorned, no one will\nnotice you nor court you.\" She replied with firm simplicity, \"It is the\nHoly One, blessed be He, that settles marriages; I need have no concern on\nthe point myself.\" Virtue was duly rewarded, for she married a learned and\npious husband. This passage in the \"Book of the Pious\" reminds me of the\ncircumstance under which the originator of the latter-day Chasidism, Israel\nBaalshem, is said to have married. When he was offered the daughter of a\nrich and learned man of Brody, named Abraham, he readily accepted the\nalliance, because he knew that Abraham's daughter was his bride destined by\nheaven. For, like Moses Mendelssohn, in some other respects the antagonist\nof the Chasidim, Baalshem accepted the declaration of Rabbi Judah in the\nname of Rab: \"Forty days before the creation of a girl, a proclamation\n[Bath-Kol] is made in Heaven, saying, 'The daughter of such a one shall\nmarry such and such a one.'\"\n\nThe belief in the Divine ordaining of marriages affected the medieval\nSynagogue liturgy. To repeat what I have written elsewhere: When the\nbridegroom, with a joyous retinue, visited the synagogue on the Sabbath\nfollowing his marriage, the congregation chanted the chapter of Genesis\n(xxiv) that narrates the story of Isaac's marriage, which, as Abraham's\nservant claimed, was providentially arranged. This chapter was sung, not\nonly in Hebrew, but in Arabic, in countries where the latter language was\nthe vernacular. These special readings, which were additional to the\nregular Scripture lesson, seem to have fallen out of use in Europe in the\nseventeenth century, but they are still retained in the East. But all over\nJewry the beautiful old belief is contained in the wording of the fourth of\nthe \"seven benedictions\" sung at the celebration of a wedding, \"Blessed art\nthou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who hast made man in thine\nimage, after thy likeness, and hast prepared unto him out of his very self\na perpetual fabric.\" Here is recalled the creation of Eve, of whom God\nHimself said, \"I will make for man a help meet unto him.\" Not only the\nmarriage, but also the bride was Heaven-made, and the wonderful wedding\nbenediction enshrines this idea.\n\nIn an Agadic story, the force of this predestination is shown to be too\nstrong even for royal opposition. It does not follow that the\npre-arrangement of marriages implies that the pair cannot fall in love of\ntheir own accord. On the contrary, just the right two eventually come\ntogether; for once freewill and destiny need present no incompatibility.\nThe combination, here shadowed, of a predestined and yet true-love\nmarriage, is effectively illustrated in what follows:\n\n  \"Solomon the king was blessed with a very beautiful daughter; she was the\n  fairest maiden in the whole land of Israel. Her father observed the\n  stars, to discover by astrology who was destined to be her mate in life\n  and wed her, when lo! he saw that his future son-in-law would be the\n  poorest man in the nation. Now, what did Solomon do? He built a high\n  tower by the sea, and surrounded it on all sides with inaccessible walls;\n  he then took his daughter and placed her in the tower under the charge of\n  seventy aged guardians. He supplied the castle with provisions, but he\n  had no door made in it, so that none could enter the fortress without the\n  knowledge of the guard. Then the king said, 'I will watch in what way God\n  will work the matter.'\n\n  \"In course of time, a poor and weary traveller was walking on his way by\n  night, his garments were ragged and torn, he was barefooted and ready to\n  faint with hunger, cold, and fatigue. He knew not where to sleep, but,\n  casting his eyes around him, he beheld the skeleton of an ox lying on a\n  field hard by. The youth crept inside the skeleton to shelter himself\n  from the wind, and, while he slept there, down swooped a great bird,\n  which lifted up the carcass and the unconscious youth in it. The bird\n  flew with its burden to the top of Solomon's tower, and set it down on\n  the roof before the very door of the imprisoned princess. She went forth\n  on the morrow to walk on the roof according to her daily wont, and she\n  descried the youth. She said to him, 'Who art thou? and who brought thee\n  hither?' He answered, 'I am a Jew of Acco, and a bird bore me to thee.'\n  The kind-hearted maiden clothed him in new garments; they bathed and\n  anointed him, and she saw that he was the handsomest youth in Israel.\n  They loved one another, and his soul was bound up in hers. One day she\n  said, 'Wilt thou marry me?' He replied, 'Would it might be so!' They\n  resolved to marry. But there was no ink with which to write the Kethubah,\n  or marriage certificate. Love laughs at obstacles. So, using some drops\n  of his own blood as ink, the marriage was secretly solemnized, and he\n  said, 'God is my witness to-day, and Michael and Gabriel likewise.' When\n  the matter leaked out, the dismayed custodians of the princess hastily\n  summoned Solomon. The king at once obeyed their call, and asked for the\n  presumptuous youth. He looked at his son-in-law, inquired of him as to\n  his father and mother, family and dwelling-place, and from his replies\n  the king recognized him for the selfsame man whom he had seen in the\n  stars as the destined husband of his daughter. Then Solomon rejoiced with\n  exceeding joy and exclaimed, Blessed is the Omnipresent who giveth a wife\n  to man and establisheth him in his house.\"\n\nThe moral of which seems to be that, though marriages are made in Heaven,\nlove must be made on earth.\n\n\n\n\nHEBREW LOVE SONGS\n\n\nPalestine is still the land of song. There the peasant sings Arabic ditties\nin the field when he sows and reaps, in the desert when he tends his flock,\nat the oasis when the caravan rests for the night, and when camels are\nremounted next morning. The maiden's fresh voice keeps droning rhythm with\nher hands and feet as she carries water from the well or wood from the\nscanty forest, when she milks the goats, and when she bakes the bread.\n\nThe burden of a large portion of these songs is love. The love motive is\nmost prominent musically during the long week of wedding festivities, but\nit is by no means limited to these occasions. The songs often contain an\nelement of quaint, even arch, repartee, in which the girl usually has the\nbetter of the argument. Certainly the songs are sometimes gross, but only\nin the sense that they are vividly natural. With no delicacy of expression,\nthey are seldom intrinsically coarse. The troubadours of Europe trilled\nmore daintily of love, but there was at times an illicit note in their\nlays. Eastern love songs never attain the ideal purity of Dante, but they\nhardly ever sink to the level of Ovid.\n\nBut why begin an account of Hebrew love songs by citing extant Palestinian\nexamples in Arabic? Because there is an undeniable, if remote, relationship\nbetween some of the latter and the Biblical Song of Songs. In that\nmarvellous poem, outspoken praise of earthly beauty, frank enumeration of\nthe physical charms of the lovers, thorough unreserve of imagery, are\nconspicuous enough. Just these features, as Wetzstein showed, are\nreproduced, in a debased, yet recognizable, likeness, by the modern Syrian\n_wasf_--a lyric description of the bodily perfections and adornments of a\nnewly-wed pair. The Song of Songs, or Canticles, it is true, is hardly a\nmarriage ode or drama; its theme is betrothed faith rather than marital\naffection. Still, if we choose to regard the Song of Songs as poetry merely\nof the _wasf_ type, the Hebrew is not only far older than any extant Arabic\ninstance, but it transcends the _wasf_ type as a work of inspired genius\ntranscends conventional exercises in verse-making. There are superficial\nsimilarities between the _wasf_ and Canticles, but there is no spiritual\nkinship. The _wasf_ is to the Song as Lovelace is to Shakespeare, nay, the\ndistance is even greater. The difference is not only of degree, it is\nessential. The one touches the surface of love, the other sounds its\ndepths. The Song of Songs immeasurably surpasses the _wasf_ even as poetry.\nIt has been well said by Dr. Harper (author of the best English edition of\nCanticles), that, viewed simply as poetry, the Song of Songs belongs to the\nloveliest masterpieces of art. \"If, as Milton said, 'poetry should be\nsimple, sensuous, passionate,' then here we have poetry of singular beauty\nand power. Such unaffected delight in all things fair as we find here is\nrare in any literature, and is especially remarkable in ancient Hebrew\nliterature. The beauty of the world and of the creatures in it has been so\ndeeply and warmly felt, that even to-day the ancient poet's emotion of joy\nin them thrills through the reader.\"\n\nIt is superfluous to justify this eulogy by quotation. It is impossible\nalso, unless the quotation extend to the whole book. Yet one scene shall be\ncited, the exquisite, lyrical dialogue of spring, beginning with the tenth\nverse of the second chapter. It is a dialogue, though the whole is reported\nby one speaker, the Shulammite maid. Her shepherd lover calls to her as she\nstands hidden behind a lattice, in the palace in Lebanon, whither she has\nbeen decoyed, or persuaded to go, by the \"ladies of Jerusalem.\"\n\n  _The shepherd lover calls_\n    Rise up, my love,\n        My fair one, come away!\n    For, lo, the winter is past,\n    The rain is over and gone,\n    The flowers appear on the earth:\n    The birds' singing time is here,\n    And the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land.\n    The fig-tree ripens red her winter fruit,\n    And blossoming vines give forth fragrance.\n    Rise up, my love,\n        My fair one, come away!\n\nShulammith makes no answer, though she feels that the shepherd is conscious\nof her presence. She is, as it were, in an unapproachable steep, such as\nthe wild dove selects for her shy nest. So he goes on:\n\n  O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock,\n  In the covert of the steep!\n  Let me see thy face,\n  Let me hear thy voice,\n  For sweet is thy voice, and thy face comely!\n\nShe remains tantalizingly invisible, but becomes audible. She sings a\nsnatch from a vineyard-watcher's song, hinting, perhaps, at the need in\nwhich her person (her \"vineyard\" as she elsewhere calls it) stands of\nprotection against royal foxes, small and large.\n\n  _Shulammith sings_\n    Take us the foxes,\n    The little foxes,\n        That spoil the vineyards:\n    For our vines are in blossom!\n\nThen, in loving rapture,\n\n  _Shulammith speaks in an aside_\n    My beloved is mine, and I am his:\n    He feedeth his flock among the lilies!\n\nBut she cannot refuse her lover one glance at herself, even though she\nappear only to warn him of his danger, to urge him to leave her and return\nwhen the day is over.\n\n  _Shulammith entreatingly to her lover_\n    Until the evening breeze blows,\n    And the shadows disappear (at sunset),\n    Turn, my beloved!\n    Be thou as a young hart\n    Upon the cleft-riven hills!\n\nThis is but one of the many dainty love idylls of this divine poem. Or,\nagain, \"could the curious helplessness of the dreamer in a dream and the\nyearning of a maiden's affection be more exquisitely expressed than in the\nlines beginning, I was asleep, but my heart waked\"? But, indeed, as the\ncritic I am quoting continues, \"the felicities of expression and the happy\nimaginings of the poem are endless. The spring of nature and of love has\nbeen caught and fixed in its many exquisite lines, as only Shakespeare\nelsewhere has done it; and, understood as we think it must be understood,\nit has that ethical background of sacrifice and self-forgetting which all\nlove must have to be thoroughly worthy.\"\n\nIt is this ethical, or, as I prefer to term it, spiritual, background that\ndiscriminates the Song of Songs on the one hand from the Idylls of\nTheocritus, and, on the other, from the Syrian popular ditties. Some\nmoderns, notably Budde, hold that the Book of Canticles is merely a\ncollection of popular songs used at Syrian weddings, in which the bride\nfigures as queen and her mate as king, just as Budde (wrongly) conceives\nthem to figure in the Biblical Song. Budde suggests that there were \"guilds\nof professional singers at weddings, and that we have in the Song of Songs\nsimply the repertoire of some ancient guild-brother, who, in order to\nassist his memory, wrote down at random all the songs he could remember, or\nthose he thought the best.\"\n\nBut this theory has been generally rejected as unsatisfying. The book,\ndespite its obscurities, is clearly a unity. It is no haphazard collection\nof love songs. There is a sustained dramatic action leading up to a noble\nclimax. Some passages almost defy the attempt to fit them into a coherent\nplot, but most moderns detect the following story in Canticles: A beautiful\nmaid of Shulem (perhaps another form of Shunem), beloved by a shepherd\nswain, is the only daughter of well-off but rustic parents. She is treated\nharshly by her brothers, who set her to watch the vineyards, and this\nexposure to the sun somewhat mars her beauty. Straying in the gardens, she\nis on a day in spring surprised by Solomon and his train, who are on a\nroyal progress to the north. She is taken to the palace in the capital, and\nlater to a royal abode in Lebanon. There the \"ladies of Jerusalem\" seek to\nwin her affections for the king, who himself pays her his court. But she\nresists all blandishments, and remains faithful to her country lover.\nSurrendering graciously to her strenuous resistance, Solomon permits her to\nreturn unharmed to her mountain home. Her lover meets her, and as she draws\nnear her native village, the maid, leaning on the shepherd's arm, breaks\nforth into the glorious panegyric of love, which, even if it stood alone,\nwould make the poem deathless. But it does not stand alone. It is in every\nsense a climax to what has gone before. And what a climax! It is a\nvindication of true love, which weighs no allurements of wealth and\nposition against itself; a love of free inclination, yet altogether removed\nfrom license. Nor is it an expression of that lower love which may prevail\nin a polygamous state of society, when love is dissipated among many. We\nhave here the love of one for one, an exclusive and absorbing devotion. For\nthough the Bible never prohibited polygamy, the Jews had become monogamous\nfrom the Babylonian Exile at latest. The splendid praise of the virtuous\nwoman at the end of the Book of Proverbs gives a picture, not only of\nmonogamous home-life, but of woman's influence at its highest. The virtuous\nwoman of Proverbs is wife and mother, deft guide of the home, open-handed\ndispenser of charity, with the law of kindness on her tongue; but her\nactivity also extends to the world outside the home, to the mart, to the\nbusiness of life. Where, in olden literature, are woman's activities wider\nor more manifold, her powers more fully developed? Now, the Song of Songs\nis the lyric companion to this prose picture. The whole Song works up\ntowards the description of love in the last chapter--towards the\nculmination of the thought and feeling of the whole series of episodes. The\nShulammite speaks:\n\n  Set me as a seal upon thy heart,\n  As a seal upon thine arm:\n  For love is strong as death,\n  Jealousy is cruel as the grave:\n  The flashes thereof are flashes of fire,\n  A very flame of God!\n  Many waters cannot quench love,\n  Neither can the floods drown it:\n  If a man would give the substance of his house for love,\n  He would be utterly contemned.\n\nThe vindication of the Hebrew song from degradation to the level of the\nSyrian _wasf_ is easy enough. But some may feel that there is more\nplausibility in the case that has been set up for the connection between\nCanticles and another type of love song, the Idylls of Theocritus, the\nSicilian poet whose Greek compositions gave lyric distinction to the\nPtolemaic court at Alexandria, about the middle of the third century B.C.E.\nIt is remarkable how reluctant some writers are to admit originality in\nideas. Such writers seem to recognize no possibility other than supposing\nTheocritus to have copied Canticles, or Canticles Theocritus. It does not\noccur to them that both may be original, independent expressions of similar\nemotions. Least original among ideas is this denial of originality in\nideas. Criticism has often stultified itself under the obsession that\neverything is borrowed. On this theory there can never have been an\noriginal note. The poet, we are told, is born, not made; but poetry,\napparently, is always made, never born.\n\nThe truth rather is that as human nature is everywhere similar, there must\nnecessarily be some similarity in its literary expression. This is\nemphatically the case with the expression given to the emotional side of\nhuman nature. The love of man for maid, rising everywhere from the same\nspring, must find lyric outlets that look a good deal alike. The family\nresemblance between the love poems of various peoples is due to the\nelemental kinship of the love. Every true lover is original, yet most true\nlovers, including those who have no familiarity with poetical literature,\nfall instinctively on the same terms of endearment. Differences only make\nthemselves felt in the spiritual attitudes of various ages and races\ntowards love. Theocritus has been compared to Canticles, by some on the\nground of certain Orientalisms of his thought and phrases, as in his Praise\nof Ptolemy. But his love poems bear no trace of Orientalism in feeling, as\nCanticles shows no trace of Hellenism in its conception of love. The\nsimilarities are human, the differences racial.\n\nDirect literary imitation of love lyrics certainly does occur. Virgil\nimitated Theocritus, and the freshness of the Greek Idyll became the\nconvention of the Roman Eclogue. When such conscious imitation takes place,\nit is perfectly obvious. There is no mistaking the affectation of an urban\nlyrist, whose lovers masquerade as shepherds in the court of Louis XIV.\n\nTheocritus seems to have had earlier Greek models, but few readers of his\nIdylls can question his originality, and fewer still will agree with\nMahaffy in denying the naturalness of his goatherds and fishermen, in a\nword, his genuineness. Mahaffy wavers between two statements, that the\nIdylls are an affectation for Alexandria, and sincere for Sicily. The two\nstatements are by no means contradictory. Much the same thing is true of\nCanticles, the Biblical Song of Songs. It is unreasonable for anyone who\nhas seen or read about a Palestinian spring, with its unique beauty of\nflower and bird and blossom, to imagine that the author of Canticles needed\nor used second-hand sources of inspiration, however little his drama may\nhave accorded with the life of Jerusalem in the Hellenistic period. And as\nthe natural scenic background in each case is native, so is the treatment\nof the love theme; in both it is passionate, but in the one it is nothing\nelse, in the other it is also spiritual. In both, the whole is artistic,\nbut not artificial. As regards the originality of the love-interest in\nCanticles, it must suffice to say that there was always a strong romantic\nstrain in the Jewish character.\n\nCanticles is perhaps (by no means certainly) post-Exilic and not far\nremoved in date from the age of Theocritus. Still, a post-Exilic Hebrew\npoet had no more reason to go abroad for a romantic plot than Hosea, or the\nauthor of Ruth, or the writer of the royal Epithalamium (Psalm xlv), an\nalmost certainly pre-Exilic composition. This Psalm has been well termed a\n\"prelude to the Song of Songs,\" for in a real sense Canticles is\nanticipated and even necessitated by it. In Ruth we have a romance of the\ngolden corn-field, and the author chooses the unsophisticated days of the\nJudges as the setting of his tale. In Canticles we have a contrasted\npicture between the simplicity of shepherd-life and the urban\nvoluptuousness which was soon to attain its climax in the court of the\nPtolemies. So the poet chose the luxurious reign of Solomon as the\nbackground for his exquisite \"melodrama.\" Both Ruth and Canticles are\nhome-products, and ancient Greek literature has no real parallel to either.\n\nYet, despite the fact that the Hebrew Bible is permeated through and\nthrough, in its history, its psalmody, and its prophetic oratory, with\nimages drawn from love, especially in rustic guise, so competent a critic\nas Graetz conceived that the pastoral background of the love-story of\nCanticles must have been artificial. While most of those who have accepted\nthe theory of imitation-they cannot have reread the Idylls and the Song as\nwholes to persist in such a theory-have contended that Theocritus borrowed\nfrom Canticles, Graetz is convinced that the Hebrew poet must have known\nand imitated the Greek idyllist. The hero and heroine of the Song, he\nthinks, are not real shepherds; they are bucolic dilettanti, their\nshepherd-role is not serious. Whence, then, this superficial pastoral\n_mise-en-scene?_ This critic, be it observed, places Canticles in the\nPtolemaic age.\n\n  \"In the then Judean world,\" writes Graetz, \"in the post-Exilic period,\n  pastoral life was in no way so distinguished as to serve as a poetic\n  foil. On the contrary, the shepherd was held in contempt. Agriculture was\n  so predominant that large herds were considered a detriment; they spoiled\n  the grain. Shepherds, too, were esteemed robbers, in that they allowed\n  their cattle to graze on the lands of others. In Judea itself, in the\n  post-Exilic period, there were few pasture-grounds for such nomads. Hence\n  the song transfers the goats to Gilead, where there still existed\n  grazing-places. In the Judean world the poet could find nothing to\n  suggest the idealization of the shepherd. As he, nevertheless, represents\n  the simple life, as opposed to courtly extravagance, through the figures\n  of shepherds, he must have worked from a foreign model. But Theocritus\n  was the first perfect pastoral poet. Through his influence shepherd songs\n  became a favorite _genre_. He had no lack of imitators. Theocritus had\n  full reason to contrast court and rustic life and idealize the latter,\n  for in his native Sicily there were still shepherds in primitive\n  simplicity. Under his influence and that of his followers, it became the\n  fashion to represent the simple life in pastoral guise. The poet of\n  Canticles--who wrote for cultured circles--was forced to make use of the\n  convention. But, as though to excuse himself for taking a Judean shepherd\n  as a representative of the higher virtues, he made his shepherd one who\n  feeds among the lilies. It is not the rude neat-herds of Gilead or the\n  Judean desert that hold such noble dialogues, but shepherds of delicate\n  refinement. In a word, the whole eclogic character of Canticles appears\n  to be copied from the Theocritan model,\"\n\nThis contention would be conclusive, if it were based on demonstrable\nfacts. But what is the evidence for it? Graetz offers none in his brilliant\nCommentary on Canticles. In proof of his startling view that, throughout\npost-Exilic times, the shepherd vocation was held in low repute among\nIsraelites, he merely refers to an article in his _Monatsschrift_ (1870, p.\n483). When one turns to that, one finds that it concerns a far later\nperiod, the second Christian century, when the shepherd vocation had fallen\nto the grade of a small and disreputable trade. The vocation was then no\nlonger a necessary corollary of the sacrificial needs of the Temple. While\nthe altar of Jerusalem required its holocausts, the breeders of the animals\nwould hardly have been treated as pariahs. In the century immediately\nfollowing the destruction of the Temple, the shepherd began to fall in\nmoral esteem, and in the next century he was included among the criminal\ncategories. No doubt, too, as the tender of flocks was often an Arab\nraider, the shepherd had become a dishonest poacher on other men's\npreserves. The attitude towards him was, further, an outcome of the\ndeepening antagonism between the schoolmen and the peasantry. But even then\nit was by no means invariable. One of the most famous of Rabbis, Akiba, who\ndied a martyr in 135 C.E., was not only a shepherd, but he was also the\nhero of the most romantic of Rabbinic love episodes.\n\nAt the very time when Graetz thinks that agriculture had superseded\npastoral pursuits in general esteem, the Book of Ecclesiasticus was\nwritten. On the one side, Sirach, the author of this Apocryphal work, does\nnot hesitate (ch. xxiv) to compare his beloved Wisdom to a garden, in the\nsame rustic images that we find in Canticles; and, on the other side, he\nreveals none of that elevated appreciation of agriculture which Graetz\nwould have us expect. Sirach (xxxvii. 25) asks sarcastically:\n\n   How shall he become wise that holdeth the plough,\n   That glorieth in the shaft of the goad:\n   That driveth oxen, and is occupied with their labors,\n   And whose talk is of bullocks?\n\nHere it is the farmer that is despised, not a word is hinted against the\nshepherd. Sirach also has little fondness for commerce, and he denies the\npossibility of wisdom to the artisan and craftsman, \"in whose ear is ever\nthe noise of the hammer\" (_ib_. v. 28). Sirach, indeed, is not attacking\nthese occupations; he regards them all as a necessary evil, \"without these\ncannot a city be inhabited\" (v. 32). Our Jerusalem _savant_, as Dr.\nSchechter well terms him, of the third or fourth century B.C.E.; is\nmerely illustrating his thesis, that\n\n  The wisdom of the scribe cometh by opportunity of leisure;\n  And he that hath little business shall become wise,\n\nor, as he puts it otherwise, sought for in the council of the people, and\nchosen to sit in the seat of the judge. This view finds its analogue in a\nfamous saying of the later Jewish sage Hillel, \"Not everyone who increaseth\nbusiness attains wisdom\" (_Aboth_, ii. 5).\n\nUndeniably, the shepherd lost in dignity in the periods of Jewish\nprosperity and settled city life. But, as George Adam Smith points out\naccurately, the prevailing character of Judea is naturally pastoral, with\nhusbandry only incidental. \"Judea, indeed, offers as good ground as there\nis in all the East for observing the grandeur of the shepherd's\ncharacter,\"--his devotion, his tenderness, his opportunity of leisurely\ncommunion with nature.\n\nThe same characterization must have held in ancient times. And, after all,\nas Graetz himself admits, the poet of Canticles locates his shepherd in\nGilead, the wild jasmine and other flowers of whose pastures (the \"lilies\"\nof the Song) still excite the admiration of travellers. Laurence Oliphant\nis lost in delight over the \"anemones, cyclamens, asphodels, iris,\" which\nburst on his view as he rode \"knee-deep through the long, rich, sweet\ngrass, abundantly studded with noble oak and terebinth trees,\" and all this\nin Gilead. When, then, the Hebrew poet placed his shepherd and his flocks\namong the lilies, he was not trying to conciliate the courtly aristocrats\nof Jerusalem, or reconcile them to his Theocritan conventions; he was\nsimply drawing his picture from life.\n\nAnd as to the poetical idealization of the shepherd, how could a Hebrew\npoet fail to idealize him, under the ever-present charm of his traditional\nlore, of Jacob the shepherd-patriarch, Moses the shepherd-lawgiver, David\nthe shepherd-king, and Amos the shepherd-prophet? So God becomes the\nShepherd of Israel, not only explicitly in the early twenty-third Psalm,\nbut implicitly also, in the late 119th. The same idealization is found\neverywhere in the Rabbinic literature as well as in the New Testament.\nMoses is the hero of the beautiful Midrashic parable of the straying lamb,\nwhich he seeks in the desert, and bears in his bosom (_Exodus Rabba_, ii).\nThere is, on the other hand, something topsy-turvy in Graetz's suggestion,\nthat a Hebrew poet would go abroad for a conventional idealization of the\nshepherd character, just when, on his theory, pastoral conditions were\nscorned and lightly esteemed at home.\n\nIt was unnecessary, then, and inappropriate for the author of Canticles to\ngo to Theocritus for the pastoral characters of his poem. But did he borrow\nits form and structure from the Greek? Nothing seems less akin than the\nslight dramatic interest of the idylls and the strong, if obscure, dramatic\nplot of Canticles. Budde has failed altogether to convince readers of the\nSong that no consistent story runs through it. It is, as has been said\nabove, incredible that we should have before us nothing more than the\ndisconnected ditties of a Syrian wedding-minstrel. Graetz knew nothing of\nthe repertoire theory that has been based on Wetzstein's discoveries of\nmodern Syrian marriage songs and dances. Graetz believed, as most still do,\nthat Canticles is a whole, not an aggregation of parts; yet he held that,\nnot only the _dramatis personae_, but the very structure of the Hebrew poem\nmust be traced to Theocritus. He appeals, in particular, to the second\nIdyll of the Greek poet, wherein the lady casts her magic spells in the\nvain hope of recovering the allegiance of her butterfly admirer. Obviously,\nthere is no kinship between the facile Sirnaitha of the Idyll and the\ndifficult Shulammith of Canticles: one the seeker, the other the sought;\nbetween the sensuous, unrestrained passion of the former and the\nself-sacrificing, continent affection of the latter. The nobler conceptions\nof love derive from the Judean maiden, not from the Greek paramour. But,\nargues Graetz with extraordinary ingenuity, Simaitha, recounting her\nunfortunate love-affair, introduces, as Shulammith does, dialogues between\nherself and her absent lover; she repeats what he said to her, and she to\nhim; her monologue is no more a soliloquy than are the monologues of\nShulammith, for both have an audience: here Thestylis, there the chorus of\nwomen. Simaitha's second refrain, as she bewails her love, after casting\nthe ingredients into the bowl, turning the magic wheel to draw home to her\nthe man she loves, runs thus:\n\n   Bethink thee, mistress Moon, whence came my love!\n\nGraetz compares this to Shulammith's refrain in Canticles:\n\n  I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,\n      By the roes,\n      And by the hinds of the field,\n  That ye stir not up\n  Nor awaken love,\n      Until it please!\n\nBut in meaning the refrains have an absolutely opposite sense, and, more\nthan that, they have an absolutely opposite function. In the Idyll the\nrefrain is an accompaniment, in the Song it is an intermezzo. It occurs\nthree times (ii. 7; iii. 5; and viii. 4), and like other repeated refrains\nin the Song concludes a scene, marks a transition in the situation. In\nTheocritus refrains are links, in the Song they are breaks in the chain.\n\nRefrains are of the essence of lyric poetry as soon as anything like\nnarrative enters into it. They are found throughout the lyrics of the Old\nTestament, the Psalms providing several examples. They belong to the\nessence of the Hebrew strophic system. And so it is with the other\nstructural devices to which Graetz refers: reminiscent narrative, reported\ndialogues, scenes within the scene--all are common features (with certain\ndifferences) of the native Hebraic style, and they supply no justification\nfor the suggestion of borrowing from non-Hebraic models.\n\nThere have, on the other side, been many, especially among older critics,\nwho have contended that Theocritus owed his inspiration to Canticles. These\nhave not been disturbed by the consideration, that, if he borrowed at all,\nhe must assuredly have borrowed more than the most generous of them assert\nthat he did. Recently an ingenious advocate of this view has appeared in\nProfessor D.S. Margoliouth, all of whose critical work is rich in\noriginality and surprises. In the first chapter of his \"Lines of Defence of\nthe Biblical Revelation,\" he turns the tables on Graetz with quite\nentertaining thoroughness. Graetz was certain that no Hebrew poet could\nhave drawn his shepherds from life; Margoliouth is equally sure that no\nGreek could have done so.\n\n  \"That this style [bucolic poetry], in which highly artificial\n  performances are ascribed to shepherds and cowherds, should have\n  originated in Greece, would be surprising; for the persons who followed\n  these callings were ordinarily slaves, or humble hirelings, whom the\n  classical writers treat with little respect. But from the time of\n  Theocritus their profession becomes associated with poetic art. The\n  shepherd's clothes are donned by Virgil, Spenser, and Milton. The\n  existence of the Greek translation of the Song of Solomon gives us the\n  explanation of this fact. The Song of Solomon is a pastoral poem, but its\n  pictures are true to nature. The father of the writer [Margoliouth\n  believes in the Solomonic authorship of Canticles], himself both a king\n  and a poet, had kept sheep. The combination of court life with country\n  life, which in Theocritus seems so unnatural, was perfectly natural in\n  pre-Exilic Palestine. Hence the rich descriptions of the country (ii. 12)\n  beside the glowing descriptions of the king's wealth (iii. 10).\n  Theocritus can match both (Idylls vii and xv), but it may be doubted\n  whether he could have found any Greek model for either.\"\n\nIt is disturbing to one's confidence in the value of Biblical\ncriticism--both of the liberal school (Graetz) and the conservative\n(Margoliouth)--to come across so complete an antithesis. But things are not\nquite so bad as they look. Each critic is half right--Margoliouth in\nbelieving the pastoral pictures of Canticles true to Judean life, Graetz in\nesteeming the pastoral pictures of the Idylls true to Sicilian life. The\nEnglish critic supports his theme with some philological arguments. He\nsuggests that the vagaries of the Theocritan dialect are due to the fact\nthat the Idyllist was a foreigner, whose native language was \"probably\nHebrew or Syriac.\" Or perhaps Theocritus used the Greek translation of the\nSong, \"unless Theocritus himself was the translator.\" All of this is a\ncapital _jeu d'esprit,_ but it is scarcely possible that Canticles was\ntranslated into Greek so early as Theocritus, and, curiously enough, the\nSeptuagint Greek version of the Song has less linguistic likeness to the\nphraseology of Theocritus than has the Greek version of the Song by a\ncontemporary of Akiba, the proselyte Aquila. Margoliouth points out a\ntransference by Theocritus of the word for daughter-in-law to the meaning\nbride (Idyll, xviii. 15). This is a Hebraism, he thinks. But expansions of\nmeaning in words signifying relationship are common to all poets. Far more\ncurious is a transference of this kind that Theocritus does _not_ make. Had\nhe known Canticles, he would surely have seized upon the Hebrew use of\nsister to mean beloved, a usage which, innocent and tender enough in the\nHebrew, would have been highly acceptable to the incestuous patron of\nTheocritus, who actually married his full sister. Strange to say, the\nancient Egyptian love poetry employs the terms brother and sister as\nregular denotations of a pair of lovers.\n\nThis last allusion to an ancient Egyptian similarity to a characteristic\nusage of Canticles leads to the remark, that Maspero and Spiegelberg have\nboth published hieroglyphic poems of the xixth-xxth Dynasties, in which may\nbe found other parallels to the metaphors and symbolism of the Hebrew Song.\nAs earlier writers exaggerated the likeness of Canticles to Theocritus, so\nMaspero was at first inclined to exaggerate the affinity of Canticles to\nthe old Egyptian amatory verse. It is not surprising, but it is saddening,\nto find that Maspero, summarizing his interesting discovery in 1883, used\nalmost the same language as Lessing had used in 1777 with reference to\nTheocritus. Maspero, it is true, was too sane a critic to assert borrowing\non the part of Canticles. But he speaks of the \"same manner of speech, the\nsame images, the same comparisons,\" as Lessing does. Now if A = B, and B =\nC, then it follows that A = C. But in this case A does _not_ equal C. There\nis no similarity at all between the Egyptian Songs and Theocritus. It\nfollows that there is no essential likeness between Canticles and either of\nthe other two. In his later books, Maspero has tacitly withdrawn his\nassertion of close Egyptian similarity, and it would be well if an equally\nfrank withdrawal were made by the advocates of a close Theocritan parallel.\n\nSome of the suggested resemblances between the Hebrew and Greek Songs are\nperhaps interesting enough to be worth examining in detail. In Idyll i. 24,\nthe goatherd offers this reward to Thyrsis, if he will but sing the song of\nDaphnis:\n\n                            I'll give thee first\n  To milk, ay, thrice, a goat; she suckles twins,\n  Yet ne'ertheless can fill two milkpails full.\n\nIt can hardly be put forward as a remarkable fact that the poet should\nrefer to so common an incident in sheep-breeding as the birth of twins. Yet\nthe twins have been forced into the dispute, though it is hard to conceive\nanything more unlike than the previous quotation and the one that follows\nfrom Canticles (iv. 2):\n\n   Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes,\n       That are newly shorn,\n       Which are come up from the washing,\n   Whereof every one hath twins,\n   And none is bereaved among them.\n\nIt is doubtful whether the Hebrew knows anything at all of the twin-bearing\newes; the penultimate line ought rather to be rendered (as in the margin of\nthe Revised Version) \"thy teeth ... which are all of them in pairs.\" But,\nhowever rendered, the Hebrew means this. Theocritus speaks of the richness\nof the goat's milk, for, after having fed her twins, she has still enough\nmilk to fill two pails. In Canticles, the maiden's teeth, spotlessly white,\nare smooth and even, \"they run accurately in pairs, the upper corresponding\nto the lower, and none of them is wanting\" (Harper).\n\nEven more amusing is the supposed indebtedness on one side or the other in\nthe reference made by Theocritus and Canticles to the ravages of foxes in\nvineyards. Theocritus has these beautiful lines in his first Idyll (lines\n44 _et seq._):\n\n  Hard by that wave-beat sire a vineyard bends\n  Beneath its graceful load of burnished grapes;\n  A boy sits on the rude fence watching them.\n  Near him two foxes: down the rows of grapes\n  One ranging steals the ripest; one assails\n  With wiles the poor lad's scrip, to leave him soon\n  Stranded and supperless. He plaits meanwhile\n  With ears of corn a right fine cricket-trap,\n  And fits it in a rush: for vines, for scrip,\n  Little he cares, enamored of his toy.\n\nHow different the scene in Canticles (ii. 14 _et seq_.) that has been\nquoted above!\n\n  Take us the foxes,\n      The little foxes,\n      That spoil the vineyards,\n  For our vineyards are in blossom!\n\nCanticles alludes to the destruction of the young shoots, Theocritus\npictures the foxes devouring the ripe grapes. (Comp. also Idyll v. 112.)\nFoxes commit both forms of depredation, but the poets have seized on\ndifferent aspects of the fact. Even were the aspects identical, it would be\nridiculous to suppose that the Sicilian or Judean had been guilty of\nplagiarism. To-day, as of old, in the vineyards of Palestine you may see\nthe little stone huts of the watchers on the lookout for the foxes, or\njackals, whose visitations begin in the late spring and continue to the\nautumn. In Canticles we have a genuine fragment of native Judean folk-song;\nin Theocritus an equally native item of every season's observation.\n\nSo with most of the other parallels. It is only necessary to set out the\npassages in full, to see that the similarity is insignificant in relation\nto the real differences. One would have thought that any poet dealing with\nrustic beauty might light on the fact that a sunburnt skin may be\nattractive. Yet Margoliouth dignifies this simple piece of observation into\na _theory_! \"The theory that swarthiness produced by sun-burning need not\nbe disfiguring to a woman\" is, Margoliouth holds, taken by Theocritus from\nCanticles. Graetz, as usual, reverses the relation: Canticles took it from\nTheocritus. But beyond the not very recondite idea that a sunburnt maid may\nstill be charming, there is no parallel. Battus sings (Idyll x. 26 _et\nseq_.):\n\n  Fair Bombyca! thee do men report\n      Lean, dusk, a gipsy: I alone nut-brown.\n  Violets and pencilled hyacinths are swart,\n      Yet first of flowers they're chosen for a crown.\n  As goats pursue the clover, wolves the goat,\n  And cranes the ploughman, upon thee I dote!\n\nIn Canticles the Shulammite protests (i. 5 _et seq_.):\n\n  I am black but comely,\n      O ye daughters of Jerusalem!\n  [Black] as the tents of Kedar,\n  [Comely] as the curtains of Solomon.\n      Despise me not because I am swarthy,\n      Because the sun hath scorched me.\n  My mother's sons were incensed against me,\n  They made me the keeper of the vineyards,\n  But mine own vineyard I have not kept!\n\nTwo exquisite lyrics these, of which it is hard to say which has been more\ninfluential as a key-note of later poetry. But neither of them is derived;\neach is too spontaneous, too fresh from the poet's soul.\n\nBefore turning to one rather arrestive parallel, a word may be said on\nGraetz's idea, that Canticles uses the expression \"love's arrows.\" Were\nthis so, the symbolism could scarcely be attributed to other than a Greek\noriginal. The line occurs in the noble panegyric of love cited before, with\nwhich Canticles ends, and in which the whole drama culminates. There is no\nroom in this eulogy for Graetz's rendering, \"Her arrows are fiery arrows,\"\nnor can the Hebrew easily mean it. \"The flashes thereof are flashes of\nfire,\" is the best translation possible of the Hebrew line. There is\nnothing Greek in the comparison of love to fire, for fire is used in common\nHebrew idiom to denote any powerful emotion (comp. the association of fire\nwith jealousy in Ezekiel xxxix. 4).\n\nEwald, while refusing to connect the Idylls with Canticles, admitted that\none particular parallel is at first sight forcible. It is the comparison of\nboth Helen and Shulammith to a horse. Margoliouth thinks the Greek\ninexplicable without the Hebrew; Graetz thinks the Hebrew inexplicable\nwithout the Greek. In point of fact, the Hebrew and the Greek do not\nexplain each other in the least. In the Epithalamium (Idyll xviii. 30)\nTheocritus writes,\n\n  Or as in a chariot a mare of Thessalian breed,\n  So is rose-red Helen, the glory of Lacedemon.\n\nThe exact point of comparison is far from clear, but it must be some\nfeature of beauty or grace. Such a comparison, says Margoliouth, is\nextraordinary in a Greek poet; he must have derived it from a non-Greek\nsource. But it has escaped this critic and all the commentaries on\nTheocritus, that just this comparison is perfectly natural for a Sicilian\npoet, familiar with several series of Syracusan coins of all periods, on\nwhich appear chariots with Nike driving horses of the most delicate beauty,\nfit figures to compare to a maiden's grace of form. Theocritus, however,\ndoes not actually compare Helen to the horse; she beautifies or sets off\nLacedemon as the horse sets off the chariot. Graetz, convinced that the\nfigure is Greek, pronounces the Hebrew unintelligible without it. But it is\nquite appropriate to the Hebrew poet. Having identified his royal lover\nwith Solomon, the poet was almost driven to make some allusion to Solomon's\nfamed exploit in importing costly horses and chariots from Egypt (I Kings\nx. 26-29). And so Canticles says (i. 9):\n\n  I have compared thee, O my love,\n  To a team of horses, in Pharaoh's chariots.\n  Thy cheeks are comely with rows of pearls,\n  Thy neck with chains of gold.\n\nThe last couplet refers to the ornaments of the horse's bridle and neck.\nNow, to the Hebrew the horse was almost invariably associated with war. The\nShulammite is elsewhere (vi. 4) termed \"terrible as an army with banners.\"\nIn Theocritus the comparison is primarily to Helen's beauty; in Canticles\nto the Shulammite's awesomeness,\n\n  Turn away thine eyes from me,\n  For they have made me afraid.\n\nThese foregoing points of resemblance are the most significant that have\nbeen adduced. And they are not only seen to be each unimportant and\ninconclusive, but they have no cumulative effect. Taken as wholes, as was\nsaid above, the Idylls and Canticles are the poles asunder in their moral\nattitude towards love and in their general literary treatment of the theme.\nOf course, poets describing the spring will always speak of the birds;\nGreek and Hebrew loved flowers, Jew and Egyptian heard the turtle-dove as a\nharbinger of nature's rebirth; sun and moon are everywhere types of warm\nand tender feelings; love is the converter of a winter of discontent into a\nglorious summer. In all love poems the wooer would fain embrace the wooed.\nAnd if she prove coy, he will tell of the menial parts he would be ready to\nperform, to continue unrebuked in her vicinity. Anacreon's lover (xx) would\nbe water in which the maid should bathe, and the Egyptian sighs, \"Were I\nbut the washer of her clothes, I should breathe the scent of her.\" Or the\nEgyptian will cry, \"O were I the ring on her finger, that I might be ever\nwith her,\" just as the Shulammite bids her beloved (though in another\nsense) \"Place me as a seal on thine hand\" (Cant. viii. 6). Love intoxicates\nlike wine; the maiden has a honeyed tongue; her forehead and neck are like\nivory. Nothing in all this goes beyond the identity of feeling that lies\nbehind all poetical expression. But even in this realm of metaphor and\nimage and symbolism, the North-Semitic _wasf_ and even more the Hebraic\nparallels given in other parts of the Bible are closer far. Hosea xiv. 6-9\n(with its lilies, its figure of Israel growing in beauty as the olive tree,\n\"and his smell as Lebanon\"), Proverbs (with its eulogy of faithful wedded\nlove, its lips dropping honeycomb, its picture of a bed perfumed with\nmyrrh, aloes, and cinnamon, the wife to love whom is to drink water from\none's own well, and she the pleasant roe and loving hind)--these and the\nroyal Epithalamium (Ps. xlv), and other Biblical passages too numerous to\nquote, constitute the real parallels to the imagery and idealism of\nCanticles.\n\nThe only genuine resemblance arises from identity of environment. If\nTheocritus and the poet of Canticles were contemporaries, they wrote when\nthere had been a somewhat sudden growth of town life both in Egypt and\nPalestine. Alexander the Great and his immediate successors were the most\nassiduous builders of new cities that the world has ever seen. The charms\nof town life made an easy conquest of the Orient. But pastoral life would\nnot surrender without a struggle. It would, during this violent revolution\nin habits, reassert itself from time to time. We can suppose that after a\ncentury of experience of the delusions of urban comfort, the denizens of\ntowns would welcome a reminder of the delights of life under the open sky.\nThere would be a longing for something fresher, simpler, freer. At such a\nmoment Theocritus, like the poet of Canticles, had an irresistible\nopportunity, and to this extent the Idylls and the Song are parallel.\n\nBut, on the other hand, when we pass from external conditions to intrinsic\npurport, nothing shows better the difference between Theocritus and\nCanticles than the fact that the Hebrew poem has been so susceptible of\nallegorization. Though the religious, symbolical interpretation of the Song\nbe far from its primary meaning, yet in the Hebrew muse the sensuous and\nthe mystical glide imperceptibly into one another. And this is true of\nSemitic poetry in general. It is possible to give a mystical turn to the\nquatrains of Omar Khayyam. But this can hardly be done with Anacreon. There\nis even less trace of Semitic mysticism in Theocritus than in Anacreon.\nIdylls and Canticles have some similarities. But these are only skin deep.\nIn their heart of hearts the Greek and Judean poets are strangers, and so\nare their heroes and heroines.\n\nNo apology is needed for the foregoing lengthy discussion of the Song of\nSongs, seeing that it is incomparably the finest love poem in the Hebrew,\nor any other language. And this is true whatever be one's opinion of its\nprimary significance. It was no doubt its sacred interpretation that\nimparted to it so lasting a power over religious symbolism. But its human\nimport also entered into its eternal influence. The Greek peasants of\nMacedonia still sing echoes from the Hebrew song. Still may be heard, in\nmodern Greek love chants, the sweet old phrase, \"black but comely,\" a\nfavorite phrase with all swarthy races; \"my sister, my bride\" remains as\nthe most tender term of endearment. To a certain extent the service has\nbeen repaid. Some of the finest melodies to which the Synagogue hymns, or\nPiyyutim, are set, are the melodies to _Achoth Ketannah_, based on\nCanticles viii. 8, and _Berach Dodi_, a frequent phrase of the Hebrew book.\nThe latter melody is similar to the finer melodies of the Levant; the\nformer strikingly recalls the contemporary melodies of the Greek\nArchipelago. To turn a final glance at the other side of the indebtedness,\nwe need only recall that Edmund Spenser's famous Marriage Ode--the\nEpithalamium--the noblest marriage ode in the English language, and\nMilton's equally famous description of Paradise in the fourth book of his\nEpic, owe a good deal to direct imitation of the Song of Songs. It is\nscarcely an exaggeration to assert that the stock-in-trade of many an\nerotic poet is simply the phraseology of the divine song which we have been\nconsidering so inadequately. It did not start as a repertoire; it has ended\nas one.\n\nWe must now make a great stride through the ages. Between the author of the\nSong of Songs and the next writer of inspired Hebrew love songs there\nstretches an interval of at least fourteen centuries. It is an oft-told\nstory, how, with the destruction of the Temple, the Jewish desire for song\ntemporarily ceased. The sorrow-laden heart could not sing of love. The\ndisuse of a faculty leads to its loss; and so, with the cessation of the\ndesire for song, the gift of singing became atrophied. But the decay was\nnot quite complete. It is commonly assumed that post-Biblical Hebrew poetry\nrevived for sacred ends; first hymns were written, then secular songs. But\nDr. Brody has proved that this assumption is erroneous. In point of fact,\nthe first Hebrew poetry after the Bible was secular not religious. We find\nin the pages of Talmud and Midrash relics and fragments of secular poetry,\nsnatches of bridal songs, riddles, elegies, but less evidence of a\nreligious poetry. True, when once the medieval burst of Hebrew melody\nestablished itself, the Hebrew hymns surpassed the secular Hebrew poems in\noriginality and inspiration. But the secular verses, whether on ordinary\nsubjects, or as addresses to famous men, and invocations on documents, at\ntimes far exceed the religious poems in range and number. And in many ways\nthe secular poetry deserves very close attention. A language is not living\nwhen it is merely ecclesiastical. No one calls Sanskrit a living language\nbecause some Indian sects still pray in Sanskrit. But when Jewish poets\ntook to using Hebrew again--if, indeed, they ever ceased to use it--as the\nlanguage of daily life, as the medium for expressing their human emotions,\nthen one can see that the sacred tongue was on the way to becoming once\nmore what it is to-day in many parts of Palestine--the living tongue of\nmen.\n\nIt must not be thought that in the Middle Ages there were two classes of\nHebrew poets: those who wrote hymns and those who wrote love songs. With\nthe exception of Solomon ibn Gabirol--a big exception, I admit--the best\nlove songs were written by the best hymn writers. Even Ibn Gabirol, who, so\nfar as we know, wrote no love songs, composed other kinds of secular\npoetry. One of the favorite poetical forms of the Middle Ages consisted of\nmetrical letters to friends--one may almost assert that the best Hebrew\nlove poetry is of this type--epistles of affection between man and man,\nexpressing a love passing the love of woman. Ibn Gabirol wrote such\nepistles, but the fact remains that we know of no love verses from his\nhand; perhaps this confirms the tradition that he was the victim of an\nunrequited affection.\n\nThus the new form opens not with Ibn Gabirol, but with Samuel ibn Nagrela.\nHe was Vizier of the Khalif, and Nagid, or Prince, of the Jews, in the\neleventh century in Spain, and, besides Synagogue hymns and Talmudic\ntreatises, he wrote love lyrics. The earlier hymns of Kalir have, indeed, a\nstrong emotional undertone, but the Spanish school may justly claim to have\ncreated a new form. And this new form opens with Samuel the Nagid's pretty\nverses on his \"Stammering Love,\" who means to deny, but stammers out\nassent. I cite the metrical German version of Dr. Egers, because I have\nfound it impossible to reproduce (Dr. Egers is not very precise or happy in\nhis attempt to reproduce) the puns of the original. The sense, however, is\nclear. The stammering maid's words, being mumbled, convey an invitation,\nwhen they were intended to repulse her loving admirer.\n\n  Wo ist mein stammelnd Lieb?\n  Wo sie, die wuerz'ge, blieb?\n  Verdunkelt der Mond der Sterne Licht,\n  Ueberstrahlt den Mond ihr Angesicht!\n  Wie Schwalbe, wie Kranich, die\n  Bei ihrer Ankunft girren,\n  Vertraut auf ihren Gott auch sie\n  In ihrer Zunge Irren.\n\n  Mir schmollend rief sie \"Erzdieb,\"\n  Hervor doch haucht sie \"Herzdieb\"--\n  Hin springe ich zum Herzlieb.\n  \"Ehrloser!\" statt zu wehren,\n  \"Her, Loser!\" laesst sie hoeren;\n  Nur rascher dem Begehren\n  Folgt' ich mit ihr zu kosen,\n  Die lieblich ist wie Rosen.\n\nThis poem deserves attention, as it is one of the first, if not actually\nthe very first, of its kind. The Hebrew poet is forsaking the manner of the\nBible for the manner of the Arabs. One point of resemblance between the new\nHebrew and the Arabic love poetry is obscured in the translation. In the\nHebrew of Samuel the Nagid the terms of endearment, applied though they are\nto a girl, are all in the masculine gender. This, as Dr. Egers observes, is\na common feature of the Arabic and Persian love poetry of ancient and\nmodern times. An Arab poet will praise his fair one's face as \"bearded\"\nwith garlands of lilies. Hafiz describes a girl's cheeks as roses within a\nnet of violets, the net referring to the beard. Jehudah Halevi uses this\nselfsame image, and Moses ibn Ezra and the rest also employ manly figures\nof speech in portraying beautiful women. All this goes to show how much,\nbesides rhyme and versification, medieval Hebrew love poetry owed to Arabic\nmodels. Here, for instance, is an Arabic poem, whose author, Radhi Billah,\ndied in 940, that is, before the Spanish Jewish poets began to write of\nlove. To an Arabic poet Laila replaces the Lesbia of Catullus and the Chloe\nof the Elizabethans. This tenth century Arabic poem runs thus:\n\n  Laila, whene'er I gaze on thee,\n    My altered cheeks turn pale;\n  While upon thine, sweet maid, I see\n    A deep'ning blush prevail.\n\n  Laila, shall I the cause impart\n    Why such a change takes place?--\n  The crimson stream deserts my heart\n    To mantle on thy face.\n\nHere we have fully in bloom, in the tenth century, those conceits which\nmeet us, not only in the Hebrew poets of the next two centuries, but also\nin the English poets of the later Elizabethan age.\n\nIt is very artificial and scarcely sincere, but also undeniably attractive.\nOr, again, in the lines of Zoheir, addressed by the lover to a messenger\nthat has just brought tidings from the beloved,\n\n  Oh! let me look upon thine eyes again,\n  For they have looked upon the maid I love,\n\nwe have, in the thirteenth century, the very airs and tricks of the\ncavalier poets. In fact, it cannot be too often said that love poetry, like\nlove itself, is human and eternal, not of a people and an age, but of all\nmen and all times. Though fashions change in poetry as in other ornament,\nstill the language of love has a long life, and age after age the same\nconceits and terms of endearment meet us. Thus Hafiz has these lines,\n\n  I praise God who made day and night:\n  Day thy countenance, and thy hair the night.\n\nLong before him the Hebrew poet Abraham ibn Ezra had written,\n\n  On thy cheeks and the hair of thy head\n  I will bless: He formeth light and maketh darkness.\n\nIn the thirteenth century the very same witticism meets us again, in the\nHebrew _Machberoth_ of Immanuel. But obviously it would be an endless task\nto trace the similarities of poetic diction between Hebrew and other poets:\nsuffice it to realize that such similarities exist.\n\nSuch similarities did not, however, arise only from natural causes. They\nwere, in part at all events, due to artificial compulsion. It is well to\nbear this in mind, for the recurrence of identical images in Hebrew love\npoem after love poem impresses a Western reader as a defect. To the\nOriental reader, on the contrary, the repetition of metaphors seemed a\nmerit. It was one of the rules of the game. In his \"Literary History of\nPersia\" Professor Browne makes this so clear that a citation from him will\nsave me many pages. Professor Browne (ii, 83) analyzes Sharafu'd-Din Rami's\nrhetorical handbook entitled the \"Lover's Companion.\" The \"Companion\"\nlegislates as to the similes and figures that may be used in describing the\nfeatures of a girl.\n\n  \"It contains nineteen chapters, treating respectively of the hair, the\n  forehead, the eyebrows, the eyes, the eyelashes, the face, the down on\n  lips and cheeks, the mole or beauty-spot, the lips, the teeth, the mouth,\n  the chin, the neck, the bosom, the arm, the fingers, the figure, the\n  waist, and the legs. In each chapter the author first gives the various\n  terms applied by the Arabs and Persians to the part which he is\n  discussing, differentiating them when any difference in meaning exists;\n  then the metaphors used by writers in speaking of them, and the epithets\n  applied to them, the whole copiously illustrated by examples from the\n  poets.\"\n\nNo other figures of speech would be admissible. Now this \"Companion\"\nbelongs to the fourteenth century, and the earlier Arabic and Persian\npoetry was less fettered. But principles of this kind clearly affected the\nHebrew poets, and hence there arises a certain monotony in the songs,\nespecially when they are read in translation. The monotony is not so\npainfully prominent in the originals. For the translator can only render\nthe substance, and the substance is often more conventional than the\nnuances of form, the happy turns and subtleties, which evaporate in the\nprocess of translation, leaving only the conventional sediment behind.\n\nThis is true even of Jehudah Halevi, though in him we hear a genuinely\noriginal note. In his Synagogue hymns he joins hands with the past, with\nthe Psalmists; in his love poems he joins hands with the future, with\nHeine. His love poetry is at once dainty and sincere. He draws\nindiscriminately on Hebrew and Arabic models, but he is no mere imitator. I\nwill not quote much from him, for his best verses are too familiar. Those\nexamples which I must present are given in a new and hitherto unpublished\ntranslation by Mrs. Lucas.\n\n\nMARRIAGE SONG\n\n  Fair is my dove, my loved one,\n    None can with her compare:\n  Yea, comely as Jerusalem,\n    Like unto Tirzah fair.\n\n  Shall she in tents unstable\n    A wanderer abide,\n  While in my heart awaits her\n    A dwelling deep and wide?\n\n  The magic of her beauty\n    Has stolen my heart away:\n  Not Egypt's wise enchanters\n    Held half such wondrous sway.\n\n  E'en as the changing opal\n    In varying lustre glows,\n  Her face at every moment\n    New charms and sweetness shows.\n\n  White lilies and red roses\n    There blossom on one stem:\n  Her lips of crimson berries\n    Tempt mine to gather them.\n\n  By dusky tresses shaded\n    Her brow gleams fair and pale,\n  Like to the sun at twilight,\n    Behind a cloudy veil.\n\n  Her beauty shames the day-star,\n    And makes the darkness light:\n  Day in her radiant presence\n    Grows seven times more bright\n\n  This is a lonely lover!\n    Come, fair one, to his side,\n  That happy be together\n    The bridegroom and the bride!\n\n  The hour of love approaches\n    That shall make one of twain:\n  Soon may be thus united\n    All Israel's hosts again!\n\n\nOPHRAH\n\n_To her sleeping Love_\n\n  Awake, my fair, my love, awake,\n    That I may gaze on thee!\n  And if one fain to kiss thy lips\n    Thou in thy dreams dost see,\n  Lo, I myself then of thy dream\n    The interpreter will be!\n\n\nTO OPHRAH\n\n  Ophrah shall wash her garments white\n    In rivers of my tears,\n  And dry them in the radiance bright\n    That shines when she appears.\n  Thus will she seek no sun nor water nigh,\n  Her beauty and mine eyes will all her needs supply.\n\nThese lovers' tears often meet us in the Hebrew poems. Ibn Gabirol speaks\nof his tears as fertilizing his heart and preserving it from crumbling into\ndust. Mostly, however, the Hebrew lover's tears, when they are not tokens\nof grief at the absence of the beloved, are the involuntary confession of\nthe man's love. It is the men who must weep in these poems. Charizi sings\nof the lover whose heart succeeds in concealing its love, whose lips\ncontrive to maintain silence on the subject, but his tears play traitor and\nbetray his affection to all the world. Dr. Sulzbach aptly quotes parallels\nto this fancy from Goethe and Brentano.\n\nThis suggestion of parallelism between a medieval Hebrew poet and Goethe\nmust be my excuse for an excursion into what seems to me one of the most\ninteresting examples of the kind. In one of his poems Jehudah Halevi has\nthese lines:\n\nSEPARATION\n\n  So we must be divided! Sweetest, stay!\n    Once more mine eyes would seek thy glance's light!\n  At night I shall recall thee; thou, I pray,\n    Be mindful of the days of our delight!\n  Come to me in my dreams, I ask of thee,\n  And even in thy dreams be gentle unto me!\n\n  If thou shouldst send me greeting in the grave,\n    The cold breath of the grave itself were sweet;\n  Oh, take my life! my life, 'tis all I have,\n    If I should make thee live I do entreat!\n  I think that I shall hear, when I am dead,\n    The rustle of thy gown, thy footsteps overhead.\n\nIt is this last image that has so interesting a literary history as to\ntempt me into a digression. But first a word must be said of the\ntranslation and the translator. The late Amy Levy made this rendering, not\nfrom the Hebrew, but from Geiger's German with obvious indebtedness to Emma\nLazarus. So excellent, however, was Geiger's German that Miss Levy got\nquite close to the meaning of the original, though thirty-eight Hebrew\nlines are compressed into twelve English. Literally rendered, the Hebrew of\nthe last lines runs:\n\n  Would that, when I am dead, to mine ears may rise\n  The music of the golden bell upon thy skirts.\n\nThis image of the bell is purely Hebraic; it is, of course, derived from\nthe High Priest's vestments. Jehudah Halevi often employs it to express\nmelodious proclamation of virtue, or the widely-borne voice of fame. Here\nhe uses it in another context, and though the image of the bell is not\nrepeated, yet some famous lines from Tennyson's \"Maud\" at once come into\none's mind:\n\n  She is coming, my own, my sweet;\n    Were it ever so light a tread,\n  My heart would hear her and beat,\n    Were it earth in an earthy bed;\n  My dust would hear her and beat,\n    Had I lain for a century dead;\n  Would start and tremble under her feet,\n    And blossom in purple and red.\n\nIt is thus that the lyric poetry of one age affects, or finds its echo in,\nthat of another, but in this particular case it is, of course, a natural\nthought that true love must survive the grave. There is a mystical union\nbetween the two souls, which death cannot end. Here, again, we meet the\nclose connection between love and mysticism, which lies at the root of all\ndeep love poetry. But we must attend to the literary history of the thought\nfor a moment longer. Moses ibn Ezra, though more famous for his Synagogue\nhymns, had some lyric gifts of a lighter touch, and he wrote love songs on\noccasion. In one of these the poet represents a dying wife as turning to\nher husband with the pathetic prayer, \"Remember the covenant of our youth,\nand knock at the door of my grave with a hand of love.\"\n\nI will allude only to one other parallel, which carries us to a much\nearlier period. Here is an Arab song of Taubah, son of Al-Humaiyir, who\nlived in the seventh century. It must be remembered that it was an ancient\nArabic folk-idea that the spirits of the dead became owls.\n\n  Ah, if but Laila would send me a greeting down\n    of grace, though between us lay the dust and flags of stone,\n  My greeting of joy should spring in answer, or there should cry\n    toward her an owl, ill bird that shrieks in the gloom of graves.\n\nC.J.L. Lyall, writing of the author of these lines, Taubah, informs us\nthat he was the cousin of Laila, a woman of great beauty. Taubah had loved\nher when they were children in the desert together, but her father refused\nto give her to him in marriage. He led a stormy life, and met his death in\na fight during the reign of Mu'awiyah. Laila long survived him, but never\nforgot him or his love for her. She attained great fame as a poetess, and\ndied during the reign of 'Abd-al-Malik, son of Marwan, at an advanced age.\n\"A tale is told of her death in which these verses figure. She was making a\njourney with her husband when they passed by the grave of Taubah. Laila,\nwho was travelling in a litter, cried, By God! I will not depart hence till\nI greet Taubah. Her husband endeavored to dissuade her, but she would not\nhearken; so at last he allowed her. And she had her camel driven up the\nmound on which the tomb was, and said, Peace to thee, O Taubah! Then she\nturned her face to the people and said, I never knew him to speak falsely\nuntil this day. What meanest thou? said they. Was it not he, she answered,\nwho said\n\n  Ah, if but Laila would send a greeting down\n    of grace, though between us lay the dust and flags of stone,\n  My greeting of joy should spring in answer, or there should cry\n    toward her an owl, ill bird that shrieks in the gloom of graves.\n\nNay, but I have greeted him, and he has not answered as he said. Now, there\nwas a she-owl crouching in the gloom by the side of the grave; and when it\nsaw the litter and the crowd of people, it was frightened and flew in the\nface of the camel. And the camel was startled and cast Laila headlong on\nthe ground; and she died that hour, and was buried by the side of Taubah.\"\n\nThe fascination of such parallels is fatal to proportion in an essay such\nas this. But I cannot honestly assert that I needed the space for other\naspects of my subject. I have elsewhere fully described the Wedding Odes\nwhich Jehudah Halevi provided so abundantly, and which were long a regular\nfeature of every Jewish marriage. But, after the brilliant Spanish period,\nHebrew love songs lose their right to high literary rank. Satires on\nwoman's wiles replace praises of her charms. On the other hand, what of\ninspiration the Hebrew poet felt in the erotic field beckoned towards\nmysticism. In the paper which opens this volume, I have written\nsufficiently and to spare of the woman-haters. At Barcelona, in the age of\nZabara, Abraham ibn Chasdai did the best he could with his misogynist\nmaterial, but he could get no nearer to a compliment than this, \"Her face\nhas the shimmer of a lamp, but it burns when held too close\" (\"Prince and\nDervish,\" ch. xviii). The Hebrew attacks on women are clever, but\nsuperficial; they show no depth of insight into woman's character, and are\nfar less effective than Pope's satires.\n\nThe boldest and ablest Hebrew love poet of the satirical school is Immanuel\nof Rome, a younger contemporary of Dante. He had wit, but not enough of it\nto excuse his ribaldry. He tells many a light tale of his amours; a pretty\nface is always apt to attract him and set his pen scribbling. As with the\nEnglish dramatists of the Restoration, virtue and beauty are to Immanuel\nalmost contradictory terms. For the most part, wrinkled old crones are the\nonly decent women in his pages. His pretty women have morals as easy as the\nauthor professes. In the second of his _Machberoth_ he contrasts two girls,\nTamar and Beriah; on the one he showers every epithet of honor, at the\nother he hurls every epithet of abuse, only because Tamar is pretty, and\nBeriah the reverse. Tamar excites the love of the angels, Beriah's face\nmakes even the devil fly. This disagreeable pose of Immanuel was not\nconfined to his age; it has spoilt some of the best work of W.S. Gilbert.\nThe following is Dr. Chotzner's rendering of one of Immanuel's lyrics. He\nentitles it\n\nPARADISE AND HELL\n\n  At times in my spirit I fitfully ponder,\n    Where shall I pass after death from this light;\n  Do Heaven's bright glories await me, I wonder,\n    Or Lucifer's kingdom of darkness and night?\n\n  In the one, though 'tis perhaps of ill reputation,\n    A crowd of gay damsels will sit by my side;\n  But in Heaven there's boredom and mental starvation,\n    To hoary old men and old crones I'll be tied.\n\n  And so I will shun the abodes of the holy,\n    And fly from the sky, which is dull, so I deem:\n  Let hell be my dwelling; there is no melancholy,\n    Where love reigns for ever and ever supreme.\n\nImmanuel, it is only just to point out, occasionally draws a worthier\ncharacter. In his third Machbereth he tells of a lovely girl, who is\nintelligent, modest, chaste, coy, and difficult, although a queen in\nbeauty; she is simple in taste, yet exquisite in poetical feeling and\nmusical gifts. The character is the nearest one gets in Hebrew to the best\nheroines of the troubadours. Immanuel and she exchange verses, but the path\nof flirtation runs rough. They are parted, she, woman-like, dies, and he,\nman-like, sings an elegy. Even more to Immanuel's credit is his praise of\nhis own wife. She has every womanly grace of body and soul. On her he\nshowers compliments from the Song of Songs and the Book of Proverbs. If\nthis be the true man revealed, then his light verses of love addressed to\nother women must be, as I have hinted, a mere pose. It may be that his wife\nread his verses, and that his picture of her was calculated to soothe her\nfeelings when reading some other parts of his work. If she did read them,\nshe found only one perfect figure of womanliness in her husband's poems,\nand that figure herself. But on the whole one is inclined to think that\nImmanuel's braggartism as to his many love affairs is only another aspect\nof the Renaissance habit, which is exemplified so completely in the similar\nboasts of Benvenuto Cellini.\n\nBe this as it may, it is not surprising to find that in the _Shulchan\nAruch_ (_Orach Chayyim_, ch. 317, Section 16), the poems of Immanuel are\nput upon the Sabbath Index. It is declared unlawful to read them on\nSaturdays, and also on week-days, continues the Code with gathering anger.\nThose who copy them, still more those who print them, are declared sinners\nthat make others to sin. I must confess that I am here on the side of the\nCode. Immanuel's _Machberoth_ are scarcely worthy of the Hebrew genius.\n\nThere has been, it may be added, a long struggle against Hebrew love songs.\nMaimonides says (\"Guide,\" iii. 7): \"The gift of speech which God gave us to\nhelp us learn and teach and perfect ourselves--this gift of speech must not\nbe employed in doing what is degrading and disgraceful. We must not imitate\nthe songs and tales of ignorant and lascivious people. It may be suitable\nto them, but it is not fit for those who are bidden, Ye shall be a holy\nnation.\" In 1415 Solomon Alami uses words on this subject that will lead me\nto my last point. Alami says, \"Avoid listening to love songs which excite\nthe passions. If God has graciously bestowed on you the gift of a sweet\nvoice, use it in praising Him. Do not set prayers to Arabic tunes, a\npractice which has been promoted to suit the taste of effeminate men.\"\n\nBut if this be a crime, then the worst offender was none other than the\nfamous Israel Najara. In the middle of the sixteenth century he added some\nof its choicest lyrics to the Hebrew song-book. The most popular of the\ntable hymns (Zemiroth) are his. He was a mystic, filled with a sense of the\nnearness of God. But he did not see why the devil should have all the\npretty tunes. So he deliberately wrote religious poems in metres to suit\nArabic, Turkish, Greek, Spanish, and Italian melodies, his avowed purpose\nbeing to divert the young Jews of his day from profane to sacred song. But\nthese young Jews must have been exigent, indeed, if they failed to find in\nNajara's sacred verses enough of love and passion. Not only was he, like\nJehudah Halevi, a prolific writer of Wedding Odes, but in his most\nspiritual hymns he uses the language of love as no Hebrew poet before or\nafter him has done. Starting with the assumption that the Song of Songs was\nan allegory of God's espousal with the bride Israel, Najara did not\nhesitate to put the most passionate words of love for Israel into God's\nmouth. He was strongly attacked, but the saintly mystic Isaac Luria\nretorted that Najara's hymns were listened to with delight in Heaven--and\nif ever a man had the right to speak of Heaven it was Luria. And Hebrew\npoetry has no need to be ashamed of the passionate affection poured out by\nthese mystic poets on another beloved, the Queen Sabbath.\n\nThis is not the place to speak of the Hebrew drama and of the form which\nthe love interest takes in it. Woman, at all events, is treated far more\nhandsomely in the dramas than in the satires. The love scenes of the Hebrew\ndramatists are pure to coldness. These dramas began to flourish in the\neighteenth century; Luzzatto was by no means an unworthy imitator of\nGuarini. Sometimes the syncretism of ideas in Hebrew plays is sufficiently\ngrotesque. Samuel Romanelli, who wrote in Italy at the era of the French\nRevolution, boldly introduces Greek mythology. It may be that in the\nSpanish period Hebrew poets introduced the muses under the epithet\n\"daughters of Song.\" But with Romanelli, the classical machinery is more\nclearly audible. The scene of his drama is laid in Cyprus; Venus and Cupid\nfigure in the action. Romanelli gives a moral turn to his mythology, by\ninterposing Peace to stay the conflict between Love and Fame. Ephraim\nLuzzatto, at the same period, tried his hand, not unsuccessfully, at Hebrew\nlove sonnets.\n\nLove songs continued to be written in Hebrew in the nineteenth century, and\noften see the light in the twentieth. But I do not propose to deal with\nthese. Recent new-Hebrew poetry has shown itself strongest in satire and\nelegy. Its note is one of anger or of pain. Shall we, however, say of the\nHebrew race that it has lost the power to sing of love? Has it grown too\nold, too decrepid?\n\n  And said I that my limbs were old,\n  And said I that my blood was cold,\n  And that my kindly fire was fled,\n  And my poor withered heart was dead,\n  And that I might not sing of love?\n\nHeine is the answer. But Heine did not write in Hebrew, and those who have\nso far written in Hebrew are not Heines. It is, I think, vain to look to\nEurope for a new outburst of Hebrew love lyrics. In the East, and most of\nall in Palestine, where Hebrew is coming to its own again, and where the\nspring once more smiles on the eyes of Jewish peasants and shepherds, there\nmay arise another inspired singer to give us a new Song of Songs in the\nlanguage of the Bible. But we have no right to expect it. Such a rare thing\nof beauty cannot be repeated. It is a joy forever, and a joy once for all.\n\n\n\n\nA HANDFUL OF CURIOSITIES\n\n\nI\n\nGEORGE ELIOT AND SOLOMON MAIMON\n\nThat George Eliot was well acquainted with certain aspects of Jewish\nhistory, is fairly clear from her writings. But there is collateral\nevidence of an interesting kind that proves the same fact quite\nconclusively, I think.\n\nIt will be remembered that Daniel Deronda went into a second-hand book-shop\nand bought a small volume for half a crown, thereby making the acquaintance\nof Ezra Cohen. Some time back I had in my hands the identical book that\nGeorge Eliot purchased which formed the basis of the incident. The book may\nnow be seen in Dr. Williams's Library, Gordon Square, London. The few words\nin which George Eliot dismisses the book in her novel would hardly lead one\nto gather how carefully and conscientiously she had read the volume, which\nhas since been translated into English by Dr. J. Clark Murray. She, of\ncourse, bought and read the original German.\n\nThe book is Solomon Maimon's Autobiography, a fascinating piece of\nself-revelation and of history. (An admirable account of it may be found in\nchapter x of the fifth volume of the English translation of Graetz's\n\"History of the Jews.\") Maimon, cynic and skeptic, was a man all head and\nno heart, but he was not without \"character,\" in one sense of the word. He\nforms a necessary link in the progress of modern Jews towards their newer\nculture. Schiller and Goethe admired him considerably, and, as we shall\nsoon see, George Eliot was a careful student of his celebrated pages. Any\nreader who takes the book up, will hardly lay it down until he has finished\nthe first part, at least.\n\nSeveral marginal and other notes in the copy of the Autobiography that\nbelonged to George Eliot are, I am convinced, in her own handwriting, and I\npropose to print here some of her jottings, all of which are in pencil, but\ncarefully written. Above the Introduction, she writes: \"This book might\nmislead many readers not acquainted with other parts of Jewish history. But\nfor a worthy account (in brief) of Judaism and Rabbinism, see p. 150.\" This\nreference takes one to the fifteenth chapter of the Autobiography. Indeed,\nGeorge Eliot was right as to the misleading tendency of a good deal in\nMaimon's \"wonderful piece of autobiography,\" as she terms the work in\n\"Daniel Deronda.\" She returns to the attack on p. 36 of her copy, where she\nhas jotted, \"See infra, p. 150 _et seq._ for a better-informed view of\nTalmudic study.\"\n\nHow carefully George Eliot read! The pagination of 207 is printed wrongly\nas 160; she corrects it! She corrects _Kimesi_ into \"Kimchi\" on p. 48,\n_Rabasse_ into \"R. Ashe\" on p. 163. On p. 59 she writes, \"According to the\nTalmud no one is eternally damned.\" Perhaps her statement needs some slight\nqualification. Again (p. 62), \"Rashi, i.e. Rabbi Shelomoh ben Isaak, whom\nBuxtorf mistakenly called Jarchi.\" It was really to Raymund Martini that\nthis error goes back. But George Eliot could not know it. On p. 140, Maimon\nbegins, \"Accordingly, I sought to explain all this in the following way,\"\nto which George Eliot appends the note, \"But this is simply what the\nCabbala teaches--not his own ingenious explanation.\"\n\nIt is interesting to find George Eliot occasionally defending Judaism\nagainst Maimon. On p. 165 he talks of the \"abuse of Rabbinism,\" in that the\nRabbis tacked on new laws to old texts. \"Its origin,\" says George Eliot's\npencilled jotting, \"was the need for freedom to modify laws\"--a fine\nremark. On p. 173, where Maimon again talks of the Rabbinical method of\nevolving all sorts of moral truths by the oddest exegesis, she writes, \"The\nmethod has been constantly pursued in various forms by Christian Teachers.\"\nOn p. 186 Maimon makes merry at the annulment of vows previous to the Day\nof Atonement. George Eliot writes, \"These are religious vows--not\nengagements between man and man.\"\n\nFurthermore, she makes some translations of the titles of Hebrew books\ncited, and enters a correction of an apparently erroneous statement of fact\non p. 215. There Maimon writes as though the Zohar had been promulgated\nafter Sabbatai Zebi. George Eliot notes: \"Sabbatai Zebi lived long after\nthe production of the Zohar. He was a contemporary of Spinoza. Moses de\nLeon belonged to the fourteenth century.\" This remark shows that George\nEliot knew Graetz's History, for it is he who brought the names of Spinoza\nand Sabbatai Zebi together in two chapter headings in his work. Besides,\nGraetz's History was certainly in George Eliot's library; it was among the\nLewes books now at Dr. Williams's. Again, on p. 265, Maimon speaks of the\nJewish fast that falls in August. George Eliot jots on the margin, \"July?\nFast of Ninth Ab.\"\n\nThroughout passages are pencilled, and at the end she gives an index to the\nparts that seem to have interested her particularly. This is her list:\n\n   Talmudic quotations, 36.\n   Polish Doctor, 49.\n   The Talmudist, 60.\n   Prince R. and the Barber, 110.\n   Talmudic Method, 174.\n   Polish Jews chiefly Gelehrte, 211.\n   Zohar, 215.\n   Rabbinical Morality, 176.\n   New Chasidim, 207.\n   Elias aus Wilna, 242.\n   Angels (?), 82.\n   Tamuz, II., 135.\n\nIt is a pleasure, indeed, to find a fresh confirmation, that George Eliot's\nfavorable impression of Judaism was based on a very adequate acquaintance\nwith its history. Sir Walter Scott's knowledge of it was, one cannot but\nfeel, far less intimate than George Eliot's, but his poetic insight kept\nhim marvellously straight in his appreciation of Jewish life and character.\n\n\nII\n\nHOW MILTON PRONOUNCED HEBREW\n\nEnglish politics in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries maintained a\ncloser association with literature than is conceivable in the present age.\nEngland has just witnessed a contest on fundamental issues between the two\nHouses of Parliament. This recalls, by contrast rather than by similarity,\nanother conflict that divided the Lords from the Commons in and about the\nyear 1645. The question at issue then was the respective literary merits of\ntwo metrical translations of the Psalms.\n\nFrancis Rous was a Provost of Eton, a member of the Westminster Assembly of\nDivines, and representative of Truro in the Long Parliament. This \"old\nilliterate Jew,\" as Wood abusively termed him, had made a verse translation\nof the Psalms, which the House of Commons cordially recommended. The House\nof Lords, on the other hand, preferred Barton's translation, and many other\ncontemporaneous attempts were made to meet the growing demand for a good\nmetrical rendering--a demand which, by the way, has remained but\nimperfectly filled to the present time. Would that some Jewish poet might\narise to give us the long-desired version for use, at all events, in our\nprivate devotions! In April, 1648, Milton tried his hand at a rendering of\nnine Psalms (lxxx.-lxxxviii.), and it is from this work that we can see how\nMilton pronounced Hebrew. Strange to say, Milton's attempt, except in the\ncase of the eighty-fourth Psalm, has scanty poetical merit, and, as a\nliteral translation, it is not altogether successful. He prides himself on\nthe fact that his verses are such that \"all, but what is in a different\ncharacter, are the very words of the Text, translated from the original.\"\nThe inserted words in italics are, nevertheless, almost as numerous as the\nroman type that represents the original Hebrew. Such conventional mistakes\nas Rous's _cherubims_ are, however, conspicuously absent from Milton's more\nscholarly work. Milton writes _cherubs_.\n\nNow, in the margin of Psalms lxxx., lxxxi., lxxxii., and lxxxiii., Milton\ninserts a transliteration of some of the words of the original Hebrew text.\nThe first point that strikes one is the extraordinary accuracy of the\ntransliteration. One word appears as _Jimmotu_, thus showing that Milton\nappreciated the force of the dagesh. Again, _Shiphtu-dal_, _bag-nadath-el_\nshow that Milton observed the presence of the Makkef. Actual mistakes are\nvery rare, and, as Dr. Davidson has suggested, they may be due to\nmisprints. This certainly accounts for _Tishphetu_ instead of _Tishpetu_\n(lxxxii. 2), but when we find _Be Sether_ appearing as two words instead of\none, the capital _S_ is rather against this explanation, while _Shifta_ (in\nthe last verse of Psalm lxxxii.) looks like a misreading.\n\nIt is curious to see that Milton adopted the nasal intonation of the\n_Ayin_. And he adopted it in the least defensible form. He invariably\nwrites _gn_ for the Hebrew _Ayin_. Now _ng_ is bad enough, but _gn_ seems a\nworse barbarism. Milton read the vowels, as might have been expected from\none living after Reuchlin, who introduced the Italian pronunciation to\nChristian students in Europe, in the \"Portuguese\" manner, even to the point\nof making little, if any, distinction between the _Zere_ and the _Sheva_.\nAs to the consonants, he read _Tav_ as _th_, _Teth_ as _t_, _Qof_ as _k_,\nand _Vav_ and _Beth_ equally as _v_. In this latter point he followed the\n\"German\" usage. The letter _Cheth_ Milton read as _ch_, but _Kaf_ he read\nas _c_, sounded hard probably, as so many English readers of Hebrew do at\nthe present day. I have even noted among Jewish boys an amusing affectation\nof inability to pronounce the _Kaf_ in any other way. The somewhat\ninaccurate but unavoidable _ts_ for _Zadde_ was already established in\nMilton's time, while the letter _Yod_ appears regularly as _j_, which\nMilton must have sounded as _y_. On the whole, it is quite clear that\nMilton read his Hebrew with minute precision. To see how just this verdict\nis, let anyone compare Milton's exactness with the erratic and slovenly\ntransliterations in Edmund Chidmead's English edition of Leon Modena's\n_Riti Ebraici_, which was published only two years later than Milton's\nparaphrase of the Psalms.\n\nThe result, then, of an examination of the twenty-six words thus\ntransliterated, is to deepen the conviction that the great Puritan poet,\nwho derived so much inspiration from the Old Testament, drew at least some\nof it from the pure well of Hebrew undefiled.\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE CAMBRIDGE PLATONISTS\n\nAs a \"Concluding Part\" to \"The Myths of Plato,\" Professor J.A. Stewart\nwrote a chapter on the Cambridge Platonists of the seventeenth century, his\nobject being to show that the thought of Plato \"has been, and still is, an\nimportant influence in modern philosophy.\"\n\nIt was a not unnatural reaction that diverted the scholars of the\nRenaissance from Aristotle to Plato. The medieval Church had been\nAristotelian, and \"antagonism to the Roman Church had, doubtless, much to\ndo with the Platonic revival, which spread from Italy to Cambridge.\" But,\ncuriously enough, the Plato whom Cambridge served was not Plato the\nAthenian dialectician, but Plato the poet and allegorist. It was, in fact,\nPhilo, the Jew, rather than Plato, the Greek, that inspired them.\n\n\"Philo never thought of doubting that Platonism and the Jewish Scriptures\nhad real affinity to each other, and hardly perhaps asked himself how the\naffinity was to be accounted for.\" Philo, however, would have had no\ndifficulty in accounting for it; already in his day the quaint theory was\nprevalent that Athens had borrowed its wisdom from Jerusalem. The\nCambridge Platonists went with Philo in declaring Plato to be \"the Attic\nMoses.\" Henry More (1662) maintained strongly Plato's indebtedness to\nMoses; even Pythagoras was so indebted, or, rather, \"it was a common fame\n[report] that Pythagoras was a disciple of the Prophet Ezekiel.\" The\nCambridge Platonists were anxious, not only to show this dependence of\nGreek upon Hebraic thought, but they went on to argue that Moses taught,\nin allegory, the natural philosophy of Descartes. More calls Platonism\nthe soul, and Cartesianism the body, of his own philosophy, which he\napplies to the explanation of the Law of Moses. \"This philosophy is the\nold Jewish-Pythagorean Cabbala, which teaches the motion of the Earth and\nPre-existence of the Soul.\" But it is awkward that Moses does not teach\nthe motion of the earth. More is at no loss; he boldly argues that,\nthough \"the motion of the earth has been lost and appears not in the\nremains of the Jewish Cabbala, this can be no argument against its once\nhaving been a part thereof.\" He holds it as \"exceedingly probable\" that\nthe Roman Emperor \"Numa was both descended from the Jews and imbued with\nthe Jewish religion and learning.\"\n\nThus the Cambridge Platonists of the seventeenth century are a very\nremarkable example of the recurrent influence exercised on non-Jews by\ncertain forms of Judaism that had but slight direct effect on the Jews\nthemselves. Indirectly, the Hellenic side of Jewish culture left its mark,\nespecially in the Cabbala. It would be well worth the while of a Jewish\ntheologian to make a close study of the seventeenth century alumni of\nCambridge, who were among the most fascinating devotees of ancient Jewish\nwisdom. Henry More was particularly attractive, \"the most interesting and\nthe most unreadable of the whole band.\" When he was a young boy, his uncle\nhad to threaten a flogging to cure him of precocious \"forwardness in\nphilosophizing concerning the mysteries of necessity and freewill.\" In 1631\nhe entered Christ's College, Cambridge, \"about the time when John Milton\nwas leaving it,\" and he may almost be said to have spent the rest of his\nlife within the walls of the college, \"except when he went to stay with his\n'heroine pupil,' Anne, Viscountess Conway, at her country seat of Ragley in\nWarwickshire, where his pleasure was to wander among the woods and glades.\"\nHe absolutely refused all preferment, and when \"he was once persuaded to\nmake a journey to Whitehall, to kiss His Majesty's hands, but heard by the\nway that this would be the prelude to a bishopric, he at once turned back.\"\nYet More was no recluse. \"He had many pupils at Christ's; he loved music,\nand used to play on the theorbo; he enjoyed a game at bowls, and still more\na conversation with intimate friends, who listened to him as to an oracle;\nand he was so kind to the poor that it was said his very chamber-door was a\nhospital for the needy.\" But enough has been quoted from Overton's\nbiography to whet curiosity about this Cambridge sage and saint. More well\nillustrates what was said above (pp. 114-116)--the man of letters is truest\nto his calling when he has at the same time an open ear to the call of\nhumanity.\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE ANGLO-JEWISH YIDDISH LITERARY SOCIETY\n\nThe founder and moving spirit of this unique little Society is Miss Helena\nFrank, whose sympathy with Yiddish literature has been shown in several\nways. Her article in the _Nineteenth Century_ (\"The Land of Jargon,\"\nOctober, 1904) was as forcible as it was dainty. Her rendering of the\nstories of Perez, too, is more than a literary feat. Her knowledge of\nYiddish is not merely intellectual; though not herself a Jewess, she\nevidently enters into the heart of the people who express their lives and\naspirations in Yiddish terms. Young as she is, Miss Frank is, indeed, a\nremarkable linguist; Hebrew and Russian are among her accomplishments. But\nit is a wonderful fact that she has set herself to acquire these other\nlanguages only to help her to understand Yiddish, which latter she knows\nthrough and through.\n\nMiss Frank not long ago founded a Society called by the title that heads\nthis note. The Society did not interest itself directly in the preservation\nof Yiddish as a spoken language. It was rather the somewhat grotesque fear\nthat the role of Yiddish as a living language may cease that appealed to\nMiss Frank. The idea was to collect a Yiddish library, encourage the\ntranslation of Yiddish books into English, and provide a sufficient supply\nof Yiddish books and papers for the patients in the London and other\nHospitals who are unable to read any other language. The weekly _Yiddishe\nGazetten_ (New York) was sent regularly to the London Hospital, where it\nhas been very welcome.\n\nIn the Society's first report, which I was permitted to see, Miss Frank\nexplained why an American Yiddish paper was the first choice. In the first\nplace, it was a good paper, with an established reputation, and at once\nconservative and free from prejudice. America is, moreover, \"intensely\ninteresting to the Polish _Yid_. For him it is the free country _par\nexcellence_. Besides, he is sure to have a son, uncle, or brother there--or\nto be going there himself. 'Vin shterben in vin Amerika kaen sich keener\nnisht araus drehn!' ('From dying and from going to America, there is no\nescape!')\" Miss Frank has a keen sense of humor. How could she love Yiddish\nwere it not so? She cites some of the _Yiddishe Gazetten's_ answers to\ncorrespondents. This is funny: \"The woman has the right to take her clothes\nand ornaments away with her when she leaves her husband. But it is a\nquestion if she ought to leave him.\" Then we have the following from an\narticle by Dr. Goidorof. He compares the Yiddish language to persons whose\npassports are not in order--the one has no grammar, the others have no\nland.\n\n  And both the Jewish language and the Jewish nation hide their faulty\n  passports in their wallets, and disappear from the register of nations\n  and languages--no land, no grammar!\n\n  \"A pretty conclusion the savants have come to!\" (began the Jewish\n  nation). \"You are nothing but a collection of words, and I am nothing but\n  a collection of people, and there's an end to both of us!\"\n\n  \"And Jargon, besides, they said--to which of us did they refer? To me or\n  to you?\" (asks the Jewish language, the word _jargon_ being unknown to\n  it).\n\n  \"To you!\" (answers the Jewish nation).\n\n  \"No, to you!\" (protests the Jewish language).\n\n  \"Well, then, to both of us!\" (allows the Jewish nation). \"It seems we are\n  both a kind of Jargon. Mercy on us, what shall we do without a grammar\n  and without a land?\"\n\n  \"Unless the Zionists purchase a grammar of the Sultan!\" (romances the\n  Jewish language).\n\n  \"Or at all events a land!\" (sighs the Jewish nation).\n\n  \"You think that the easier of the two?\" (asks the Jewish language,\n  wittily).\n\n  And at the same moment they look at one another and laugh loudly and\n  merrily.\n\nThis is genuine Heinesque humor.\n\n\nV\n\nTHE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA\n\nA book by Professor J.C. Oman, published not long ago, contains a clear\nand judicially sympathetic account of Hinduism. The sordid side of Indian\nasceticism receives due attention; the excesses of self-mortification,\npainful posturings, and equally painful impostures are by no means slurred\nover by the writer. And yet the essential origin of these ascetic practices\nis perceived by Professor Oman to be a pure philosophy and a not ignoble\nidealism. And if Professor Oman's analysis be true, one understands how it\nis that, though there have always been Jewish ascetics, at times of\nconsiderable numbers and devotion, yet asceticism, as such, has no\nrecognized place in Judaism. Jewish moralists, especially, though not\nexclusively, those of the mystical or Cabbalistic schools, pronounce\npowerfully enough against over-indulgence in all sensuous pleasures; they\ninculcate moderation and abstinence, and, in some cases, where the pressure\nof desire is very strong, prescribe painful austerities, which may be\nparalleled by what Professor Oman tells us of the Sadhus and Yogis of\nIndia. But let us first listen to Professor Oman's analysis (p. 16):\n\n  \"Without any pretence of an exhaustive analysis of the various and\n  complex motives which underlie religious asceticism, I may, before\n  concluding this chapter, draw attention to what seem to me the more\n  general reasons which prompt men to ascetic practices: (1) A desire,\n  which is intensified by all personal or national troubles, to propitiate\n  the Unseen Powers. (2) A longing on the part of the intensely religious\n  to follow in the footsteps of their Master, almost invariably an ascetic.\n  (3) A wish to work out one's own future salvation, or emancipation, by\n  conquering the evil inherent in human nature, i.e. the flesh. (4) A\n  yearning to prepare oneself by purification of mind and body for entering\n  into present communion with the Divine Being. (5) Despair arising from\n  disillusionment and from defeat in the battle of life. And lastly, mere\n  vanity, stimulated by the admiration which the multitude bestow on the\n  ascetic.\"\n\nWith regard to his second reason, we find nothing of the kind in Judaism\nsubsequent to the Essenes, until we reach the Cabbalistic heroes of the\nMiddle Ages. The third and the fourth have, on the other hand, had power\ngenerally in Jewish conduct. The fifth has had its influence, but only\ntemporarily and temperately. Ascetic practices, based on national and\nreligious calamity, have, for the most part, been prescribed only for\ncertain dates in the calendar, but it must be confessed that an excessive\naddiction to fasting prevails among many Jews. But it is when we consider\nthe first of Professor Oman's reasons for ascetic practices that we\nperceive how entirely the genius of Judaism is foreign to Hindu and most\nother forms of asceticism. To reach communion with God, the Jew goes along\nthe road of happiness, not of austerity. He serves with joy, not with\nsadness. On this subject the reader may refer with great profit to the\nremarks made by the Reverend Morris Joseph, in \"Judaism as Creed and Life,\"\np. 247, onwards, and again the whole of chapter iv. of book iii. (p. 364).\nSelf-development, not self-mortification, is the true principle; man's\nlower nature is not to be crushed by torture, but to be elevated by\nmoderation, so as to bear its part with man's higher nature in the service\nof God.\n\nWhat leads some Jewish moralists to eulogize asceticism is that there is\nalways a danger of the happiness theory leading to a materialistic view of\nlife. This is what Mr. Joseph says, and says well, on the subject (p. 371):\n\n  \"And, therefore, though Judaism does not approve of the ascetic temper,\n  it is far from encouraging the materialist's view of life. It has no\n  place for monks or hermits, who think they can serve God best by\n  renouncing the world; but, on the other hand, it sternly rebukes the\n  worldliness that knows no ideal but sordid pleasures, no God but Self. It\n  commends to us the golden mean--the safe line of conduct that lies midway\n  between the rejection of earthly joys and the worship of them. If\n  asceticism too often spurns the commonplace duties of life, excessive\n  self-indulgence unfits us for them. In each case we lose some of our\n  moral efficiency. But in the latter case there is added an inevitable\n  degradation. The man who mortifies his body for his soul's sake has at\n  least his motive to plead for him. But the sensualist has no such\n  justification. He deliberately chooses the evil and rejects the good.\n  Forfeiting his character as a son of God, he yields himself a slave to\n  unworthy passions.\n\n  \"It is the same with the worldly man, who lives only for sordid ends,\n  such as wealth and the pleasures it buys. He, too, utterly misses his\n  vocation. His pursuit of riches may be moral in itself; he may be a\n  perfectly honest man. But his life is unmoral all the same, for it aims\n  at nothing higher than itself.\"\n\nThus Professor Oman's fascinating book gives occasion for thought to many\nwhose religion is far removed from Hinduism. But there is in particular one\nfeature of Hindu asceticism that calls for attention. This is the Hindu\ndoctrine of Karma, or good works, which will be familiar to readers of\nRudyard Kipling's \"Kim.\" Upon a man's actions (Karma is the Sanskrit for\naction) in this life depends the condition in which his soul will be\nreincarnated.\n\n  \"In a word, the present state is the result of past actions, and the\n  future depends upon the present. Now, the ultimate hope of the Hindu\n  should be so to live that his soul may be eventually freed from the\n  necessity of being reincarnated, and may, in the end, be reunited to the\n  Infinite Spirit from which it sprang. As, however, that goal is very\n  remote, the Hindu not uncommonly limits his desire and his efforts to the\n  attainment of a 'good time' now, and in his next appearance upon this\n  earthly stage\" (p. 108).\n\nWe need not go fully into this doctrine, which, as the writer says\nelsewhere (p. 172), \"certainly makes for morality,\" but we may rather\nattend to that aspect of it which is shown in the Hindu desire to\naccumulate \"merits.\" The performance of penances gives the self-torturer\ncertain spiritual powers. Professor Oman quotes this passage from Sir\nMonier Williams's \"Indian Epic Poetry\" (note to p. 4):\n\n  \"According to Hindu theory, the performance of penances was like making\n  deposits in the bank of Heaven. By degrees an enormous credit was\n  accumulated, which enabled the depositor to draw on the amount of his\n  savings, without fear of his drafts being refused payment. The power\n  gained in this way by weak mortals was so enormous that gods, as well as\n  men, were equally at the mercy of these all but omnipotent ascetics, and\n  it is remarkable that even the gods are described as engaging in penances\n  and austerities, in order, it may be presumed, not to be undone by human\n  beings.\"\n\nNow, if for penance we substitute Mitzvoth, we find in this passage almost\nthe caricature of the Jewish theory that meets us in the writings of German\ntheologians. These ill-equipped critics of Judaism put it forward seriously\nthat the Jew performs Mitzvoth in order to accumulate merit (Zechuth), and\nsome of them even go so far as to assert that the Jew thinks of his Zechuth\nas irresistible. But when the matter is put frankly and squarely, as\nProfessor Monier Williams puts it, not even the Germans could have the\neffrontery to assert that Judaism teaches or tolerates any such doctrine.\nWhatever man does, he has no merit towards God: that is Jewish teaching.\nYet conduct counts, and somehow the good man and the bad man are not in the\nsame case. Judaism may be inconsistent, but it is certainly not base in its\nteaching as to conduct and retribution. \"Be not as servants who minister in\nthe hope of receiving reward\"-this is not the highest level of Jewish\ndoctrine, it is the average level. Lately I have been reading a good deal\nof mystical Jewish literature, and I have been struck by the repeated use\nmade of the famous Rabbinical saying of Antigonos of Socho just cited. One\nwonders whether, after all, justice is done to the Hindus. One sees how\neasily Jewish teaching can be distorted into a doctrine of calculated\nZechuth. Are the Hindus being misjudged equally? Certainly, in some cases\nthis must be so, for Professor Oman, with his remarkably sympathetic\ninsight, records experiences such as this more than once (p. 147). He is\ndescribing one of the Jain ascetics, and remarks:\n\n  \"His personal appearance gave the impression of great suffering, and his\n  attendants all had the same appearance, contrasting very much indeed with\n  the ordinary Sadhus of other sects. And wherefore this austere rejection\n  of the world's goods, wherefore all this self-inflicted misery? Is it to\n  attain a glorious Heaven hereafter, a blessed existence after death? No!\n  It is, as the old monk explained to me, only to escape rebirth--for the\n  Jain believes in the transmigration of souls--and to attain rest.\"\n\nOther ascetics gave similar explanations. Thus (p. 100):\n\n  \"The Christian missionary entered into conversation with the Hermit (a\n  Bairagi from the Upper Provinces), and learned from him that he had\n  adopted a life of abstraction and isolation from the world, neither to\n  expiate any sin, nor to secure any reward. He averred that he had no\n  desires and no hopes, but that, being removed from the agitations of the\n  worldly life, he was full of tranquil joy.\"\n\n\nVI\n\nLOST PURIM JOYS\n\nIt is scarcely accurate to assert, as is sometimes done, that the most\ncharacteristic of the Purim pranks of the past were children of the Ghetto,\nand came to a natural end when the Ghetto walls fell. In point of fact,\nmost of these joys originated before the era of the Ghetto, and others were\nintroduced for the first time when Ghetto life was about to fade away into\nhistory.\n\nProbably the oldest of Purim pranks was the bonfire and the burning of an\neffigy. Now, so far from being a Ghetto custom, it did not even emanate\nfrom Europe, the continent of Ghettos; it belongs to Babylonia and Persia.\nThis is what was done, according to an old Geonic account recovered by\nProfessor L. Ginzberg:\n\n  \"It is customary in Babylonia and Elam for boys to make an effigy\n  resembling Haman; this they suspend on their roofs, four or five days\n  before Purim. On Purim day they erect a bonfire, and cast the effigy into\n  its midst, while the boys stand round about it, jesting and singing. And\n  they have a ring suspended in the midst of the fire, which (ring) they\n  hold and wave from one side of the fire to the other.\"\n\nBonfires, it may be thought, need no recondite explanation; light goes with\na light heart, and boys always love a blaze. Dr. J.G. Frazer, in his\n\"Golden Bough,\" has endeavored, nevertheless, to bring the Purim bonfire\ninto relation with primitive spring-tide and midsummer conflagrations,\nwhich survived into modern carnivals, but did not originate with them. Such\nbonfires belonged to what has been called sympathetic or homeopathic magic;\nby raising an artificial heat, you ensured a plentiful dose of the natural\nheat of the sun. So, too, the burning of an effigy was not, in the first\ninstance, a malicious or unfriendly act. A tree-spirit, or a figure\nrepresenting the spirit of vegetation, was consumed in fire, but the spirit\nwas regarded as beneficent, not hostile, and by burning a friendly deity\nthe succor of the sun was gained. Dr. Frazer cites some evidence for the\nearly prevalence of the Purim bonfire; he argues strongly and persuasively\nin favor of the identification of Purim with the Babylonian feast of the\nSacaea, a wild, extravagant bacchanalian revel, which, in the old Asiatic\nworld, much resembled the Saturnalia of a later Italy. The theory is\nplausible, though it is not quite proven by Dr. Frazer, but it seems to me\nthat whatever be the case with Purim generally, there is one hitherto\noverlooked feature of the Purim bonfire that does clearly connect it with\nthe other primitive conflagrations of which mention was made above.\n\nThis overlooked feature is the \"ring.\" No explanation is given by the Gaon\nas to its purpose in the tenth century, and it can hardly have been used to\nhold the effigy. Now, in many of the primitive bonfires, the fire was\nproduced by aid of a revolving wheel. This wheel typifies the sun. Waving\nthe \"ring\" in the Purim bonfires has obviously the same significance, and\nthis apparently inexplicable feature does, I think, serve to link the\nancient Purim prank with a long series of old-world customs, which, it need\nhardly be said, have nothing whatever to do with the Ghetto.\n\nThen, again, the most famous of Purim parodies preceded the Ghetto period.\nThe official Ghetto begins with the opening of the sixteenth century,\nwhereas the best parodies belong to a much earlier date, the fourteenth\ncentury. Such parodies, in which sacred things are the subject of harmless\njest, are purely medieval in spirit, as well as in date. Exaggerated\npraises of wine were a foil to the sobriety of the Jew, the fun consisting\nin this conscious exaggeration. The medieval Jew, be it remembered, drew no\nsevere line between sacred and profane. All life was to him equally holy,\nequally secular. So it is not strange that we find included in sacred\nHebrew hymnologies wine-songs for Purim and Chanukah and other Synagogue\nfeasts, and these songs are at least as old as the early part of the\ntwelfth century. For Purim, many Synagogue liturgies contain serious\nadditions for each of the eighteen benedictions of the Amidah prayer, and\nequally serious paraphrases of Esther, some of them in Aramaic, abound\namong the Genizah fragments in Cambridge. Besides these, however, are many\nharmlessly humorous jingles and rhymes which were sung in the synagogue,\nadmittedly for the amusement of the children, and for the child-hearts of\nadult growth. For them, too, the Midrash had played round Haman, reviling\nhim, poking fun at him, covering him with ridicule rather than execration.\nIt is true that the earliest ritual reference to the wearing of masks on\nPurim dates from the year 1508, just within the Ghetto period. But this\nomission of earlier reference is surely an accident, In the Babylonian\nSacaea, cited above, a feature of the revel was that men and women\ndisguised themselves, a slave dressed up as king, while servants personated\nmasters, and vice versa. All these elements of carnival exhilaration are\nmuch earlier than the Middle Ages. Ghetto days, however, originated,\nperhaps, the stamping of feet, clapping of hands, clashing of mallets, and\nsmashing of earthenware pots, to punctuate certain passages of the Esther\nstory and of the subsequent benediction.\n\nMy strongest point concerns what, beyond all other delights, has been\nregarded as the characteristic amusement of the festival, viz. the Purim\nplay. We not only possess absolutely no evidence that Purim plays were\nperformed in the Ghettos till the beginning of the eighteenth century, when\nthe end of the Ghettos was almost within sight, but the extant references\nimply that they were then a novelty. Plays on the subject of Esther were\nvery common in medieval Europe during earlier centuries, but these plays\nwere written by Christians, not by Jews, and were performed by monks, not\nby Rabbis. Strange as it may seem, it is none the less the fact that the\nPurim play belongs to the most recent of the Purim amusements, and that its\nlife has been short and, on the whole, inglorious.\n\nThus, without pressing the contention too closely, Purim festivities do not\ndeserve to be tarred with the Ghetto brush. Is it, then, denied that Purim\nwas more mirthfully observed in Ghetto days than it is at the present day?\nBy no means. It is unquestionable that Purim used to be a merrier\nanniversary than it is now. The explanation is simple. In part, the change\nhas arisen through a laudable disinclination from pranks that may be\nmisconstrued as tokens of vindictiveness against an ancient foe or his\nmodern reincarnations. As a second cause may be assigned the growing and\nregrettable propensity of Jews to draw a rigid line of separation between\nlife and religion, and wherever this occurs, religious feasts tend towards\na solemnity that cannot, and dare not, relax into amusement. This tendency\nis eating at the very heart of Jewish life, and ought to be resisted by all\nwho truly understand the genius of Judaism.\n\nBut the psychology of the change goes even deeper. The Jew is emotional,\nbut he detests making a display of his feelings to mere onlookers. The\nWailing Wall scenes at Jerusalem are not a real exception--the facts are\n\"Cooked,\" to meet the demands of clamant tourists. The Jew's sensitiveness\nis the correlative of his emotionalism. While all present are joining in\nthe game, each Jew will play with full abandonment to the humor of the\nmoment. But as soon as some play the part of spectators, the Jew feels his\nlimbs growing too stiff for dancing, his voice too hushed for song. All\nmust participate, or all must leave off. Thus, a crowd of Italians or\nSouthern French may play at carnival to-day to amuse sight-seers in the\nRiviera, but Jews have never consented, have never been able, to sport that\nothers might stand by and laugh at, and not with, the sportsmen. In short,\nPurim has lost its character, because Jews have lost their character, their\ndisposition for innocent, unanimous joyousness. We are no longer so closely\nunited in interests or in local abodes that we could, on the one hand,\nenjoy ourselves as one man, and, on the other, play merry pranks, without\nincurring the criticism of indifferent, cold-eyed observers. Criticism has\nattacked the authenticity of the Esther story, and proposed Marduk for\nMordecai, and Istar for Esther. But criticism of another kind has worked\nfar more havoc, for its \"superior\" airs have killed the Purim joy. Perhaps\nit is not quite dead after all.\n\n\nVII\n\nJEWS AND LETTERS\n\nThe jubilee of the introduction of the Penny Post into England was not\nreached till 1890. It is difficult to realize the state of affairs before\nthis reform became part of our everyday life. That less than three-quarters\nof a century ago the scattered members of English families were, in a\nmultitude of cases, practically dead to one another, may incline one to\nexaggerate the insignificance of the means of communication in times yet\nmore remote. Certainly, in ancient Judea there were fewer needs than in the\nmodern world. Necessity produces invention, and as the Jew of remote times\nrarely felt a strong necessity to correspond with his brethren in his own\nor other countries, it naturally followed that the means of communication\nwere equally _extempore_ in character. It may be of interest to put\ntogether some desultory jottings on this important topic.\n\nThe way to Judea lies through Rome. If we wish information whether the Jews\nknew anything of a regular post, we must first inquire whether the Romans\npossessed that institution. According to Gibbon, this was the case.\nExcellent roads made their appearance wherever the Romans settled; and \"the\nadvantage of receiving the earliest intelligence and of conveying their\norders with celerity, induced the Emperors to establish throughout their\nextensive dominions the regular institution of posts. Houses were\neverywhere erected at the distance only of five or six miles; each of them\nwas constantly provided with forty horses, and by the help of these relays\nit was easy to travel a hundred miles a day along the Roman roads. The use\nof the posts was allowed to those who claimed it by an Imperial mandate;\nbut, though originally intended for the public service, it was sometimes\nindulged to the business or con-veniency of private citizens.\" This\nstatement of Gibbon (towards the end of chapter ii) applies chiefly, then,\nto official despatches; for we know from other sources that the Romans had\nno public post as we understand the term, but used special messengers\n(_tabellarius_) to convey private letters.\n\nExactly the same facts meet us with reference to the Jews in the earlier\nTalmudic times. There were special Jewish letter-carriers, who carried the\ndocuments in a pocket made for the purpose, and in several towns in\nPalestine there was a kind of regular postal arrangement, though many\nplaces were devoid of the institution. It is impossible to suppose that\nthese postal conveniences refer only to official documents; for the Mishnah\n(_Sabbath_, x, 4) is evidently speaking of Jewish postmen, who, at that\ntime, would hardly have been employed to carry the despatches of the\ngovernment. The Jewish name for this post was _Be-Davvar_, and apparently\nwas a permanent and regular institution. From a remark of Rabbi Jehudah\n(_Rosh ha-Shanah_, 9b), \"like a postman who goes about everywhere and\ncarries merchandise to the whole province,\" it would seem that the Jews had\nestablished a parcels-post; but unfortunately we have no precise\ninformation as to how these posts were managed.\n\nGibbon's account of the Roman post recalls another Jewish institution,\nwhich may have been somehow connected with the _Be-Davvar_. The official\ncustodian of the goat that was sent into the wilderness on the Day of\nAtonement was allowed, if he should feel the necessity--a necessity which,\naccording to tradition, never arose--to partake of food even on the\nfast-day. For this purpose huts were erected along the route, and men\nprovided with food were stationed at each of these huts to meet the\nmessenger and conduct him some distance on his way.\n\nThat the postal system cannot have been very much developed, is clear from\nthe means adopted to announce the New Moon in various localities. This\nofficial announcement certainly necessitated a complete system of\ncommunication. At first, we are told (_Rosh ha-Shanah_, ii, 2), fires were\nlighted on the tops of the mountains; but the Samaritans seem to have\nignited the beacons at the wrong time, so as to deceive the Jews. It was,\ntherefore, decided to communicate the news by messenger. The mountain-fires\nwere prepared as follows: Long staves of cedar-wood, canes, and branches of\nthe olive-tree were tied up with coarse threads or flax; these were lighted\nas torches, and men on the hills waved the brands to and fro, upward and\ndownward, until the signal was repeated on the next hill, and so forth.\nWhen messengers were substituted for these fire signals, it does not appear\nthat they carried letters; they brought verbal messages, which they seem to\nhave shouted out without necessarily dismounting from the animals they\nrode. Messages were not sent every month, but only six times a year; and a\ncurious light is thrown on the means of communication of the time, by the\nlegal decision that anyone was to be believed on the subject, and that the\nword of a passing merchant who said that \"he had heard the New Moon\nproclaimed,\" was to be accepted unhesitatingly. Nowadays, busy men are\nsometimes put out by postal vagaries, but they hardly suffer to the extent\nof having to fast two days. This calamity is recorded, however, in the\nJerusalem Talmud, as having, on a certain occasion, resulted from the delay\nin the arrival of the messengers announcing the New Moon.\n\nBesides the proclamation of the New Moon, other official documents must\nhave been despatched regularly. \"Bills of divorce,\" for instance, needed\nspecial messengers; the whole question of the legal position of messengers\nis very intimately bound up with that of conveying divorces. This, however,\nseems to have been the function of private messengers, who were not in the\nstrict sense letter-carriers at all. It may be well, in passing, to recall\none or two other means of communication mentioned in the Midrash. Thus we\nread how Joshua, with twelve thousand of his warriors, was imprisoned, by\nmeans of witchcraft, within a sevenfold barrier of iron. He resolves to\nwrite for aid to the chief of the tribe of Reuben, bidding him to summon\nPhineas, who is to bring the \"trumpets\" with him. Joshua ties the message\nto the wings of a dove, or pigeon, and the bird carries the letter to the\nIsraelites, who speedily arrive with Phineas and the trumpets, and, after\nrouting the enemy, effect Joshua's rescue. A similar idea may be found in\nthe commentary of Kimchi on Genesis. Noah, wishing for information, says\nKimchi, sent forth a raven, but it brought back no message; then he sent a\ndove, which has a natural capacity for bringing back replies, when it has\nbeen on the same way once or twice. Thus kings train these birds for the\npurpose of sending them great distances, with letters tied to their wings.\nSo we read (_Sabbath_, 49) in the Talmud that \"a dove's wings protect it,\"\ni.e. people preserve it, and do not slay it, because they train it to act\nas their messenger. Or, again, we find arrows used as a means of carrying\nletters, and we are not alluding to such signals as Jonathan gave to David.\nDuring the siege of Jerusalem by the Romans, the Emperor had men placed\nnear the walls of Jerusalem, and they wrote the information they obtained\non arrows, and fired them from the wall, with the connivance, probably, of\nthe philo-Roman party that existed within the doomed city.\n\nIn earlier Bible times, there was, as the Tell-el-Amarna bricks show, an\nextensive official correspondence between Canaan and Egypt, but private\nletter-writing seems not to have been resorted to; messages were\ntransmitted orally to the parties concerned. This fact is well illustrated\nby the story of Joseph. He may, of course, have deliberately resolved not\nto communicate with his family, but if letter-writing had been usual, his\nbrothers would naturally have asked him--a question that did not suggest\nitself to them--why he had never written to tell his father of his\nfortunes. When Saul desired to summon Israel, he sent, not a letter, but a\nmutilated yoke of oxen; the earliest letter mentioned in the Bible being\nthat in which King David ordered Uriah to be placed in the forefront of the\narmy. Jezebel sends letters in Ahab's name to Naboth, Jehu to Samaria. In\nall these cases letters were used for treacherous purposes, and they are\nall short. Probably the authors of these plots feared to betray their real\nintention orally, and so they committed their orders to writing, expecting\ntheir correspondents to read between the lines. It is not till the time of\nIsaiah that the references to writing become frequent. Intercourse between\nPalestine on the one hand and Babylon and Egypt on the other had then\nincreased greatly, and the severance of the nation itself tended to make\ncorrespondence through writing more necessary. When we reach the age of\nJeremiah, this fact makes itself even more strongly apparent. Letters are\noften mentioned by that prophet (xxix. 25, 29), and a professional class of\nSoferim, or scribes, make their appearance. Afterwards, of course, the\nSofer became of much higher importance; he was not merely a professional\nwriter, but a man learned in the Law, who spread the knowledge of it among\nthe people. Later, again, these functions were separated, and the Sofer\nadded to his other offices that of teacher of the young. Nowadays, he has\nregained his earlier and less important position, for the modern Sofer is\nsimply a professional writer. In the time of Ezekiel (ix. 2) the Sofer went\nabroad with the implements of his trade, including the inkhorn, at his\nside. In the Talmud, the scribe is sometimes described by his Latin title\n_libellarius_ (_Sabbath_,11a). The Jews of Egypt, as may be seen from the\nAssouan Papyri, wrote home in cases of need in the time of Nehemiah; and in\nthe same age we hear also of \"open letters,\" for Sanballat sends a missive\nof that description by his servant; and apparently it was by means of a\nsimilar letter that the festival of Purim was announced to the Jews (Esther\nix., where, unlike the other passages quoted, the exact words of the letter\nof Mordecai are not given). The order to celebrate Chanukah was published\nin the same way, and, indeed, the books of the Apocrypha contain many\ninteresting letters, and in the pages of Josephus the Jews hold frequent\nintercourse in this way with many foreign countries. In the latter cases,\nwhen the respective kings corresponded, the letters were conveyed by\nspecial embassies.\n\nOne might expect this epistolary activity to display itself at an even more\ndeveloped stage in the records of Rabbinical times. But this is by no means\nthe case, for the Rabbinical references to letters in the beginning of the\ncommon era are few and far between. Polemic epistles make their appearance;\nbut they are the letters of non-Jewish missionaries like Paul. This form of\npolemical writing possessed many advantages; the letters were passed on\nfrom one reader to another; they would be read aloud, too, before\ngatherings of the people to whom they were addressed. Maimonides, in later\ntimes, frequently adopted this method of communicating with whole\ncommunities, and many of the Geonim and other Jewish authorities followed\nthe same plan. But somehow the device seems not to have commended itself to\nthe earliest Rabbis. Though we read of many personal visits paid by the\nrespective authorities of Babylon and Palestine to one another, yet they\nappear to have corresponded very rarely in writing. The reason lay probably\nin the objection felt against committing the Halachic, or legal, decisions\nof the schools to writing, and there was little else of consequence to\ncommunicate after the failure of Bar-Cochba's revolt against the Roman\nrule.\n\nIt must not be thought, however, that this prohibition had the effect we\nhave described for very long. Rabbi Gamaliel, Rabbi Chananiah, and many\nothers had frequent correspondence with far distant places, and as soon\nas the Mishnah acquired a fixed form, even though it was not immediately\ncommitted to writing, the recourse to letters became much more common.\nPupils of the compilers of the Mishnah proceeded to Babylon to spread its\ninfluence, and they naturally maintained a correspondence with their\nchiefs in Palestine. Rab and Samuel in particular, among the Amoraim,\nwere regular letter-writers, and Rabbi Jochanan replied to them. Towards\nthe end of the third century this correspondence between Judea and\nBabylon became even more active. Abitur and Abin often wrote concerning\nlegal decisions and the doings of the schools, and thereby the\nintellectual activity of Judaism maintained its solidarity despite the\nfact that the Jewish people was no longer united in one land. In the\nTalmud we frequently read, \"they sent from there,\" viz. Palestine.\nObviously these messages were sent in writing, though possibly the bearer\nof the message was often himself a scholar, who conveyed his report by\nword of mouth. Perhaps the growth of the Rabbi's practice of writing\nresponses to questions--a practice that became so markedly popular in\nsubsequent centuries--may be connected with the similar habit of the\nRoman jurists and the Christian Church fathers, and the form of response\nadopted by the eighth century Geonim is reminiscent of that of the Roman\nlawyers. The substance of the letters, however, is by no means the same;\nthe Church father wrote on dogmatic, the Rabbi on legal, questions.\nBetween the middle of the fourth century and the time of the Geonim, we\nfind no information as to the use of letters among the Jews. From that\nperiod onwards, however, Jews became very diligent letter-writers, and\nsometimes, for instance in the case of the \"Guide of the Perplexed\" of\nMaimonides, whole works were transmitted in the form of letters. The\nscattering of Israel, too, rendered it important to Jews to obtain\ninformation of the fortunes of their brethren in different parts of the\nworld. Rumors of Messianic appearances from the twelfth century onwards,\nthe contest with regard to the study of philosophy, the fame of\nindividual Rabbis, the rise of a class of travellers who made very long\nand dangerous journeys, all tended to increase the facilities and\nnecessities of intercourse by letter. It was long, however, before\ncorrespondence became easy or safe. Not everyone is possessed of the\npostmen assigned in Midrashim to King Solomon, who pressed demons into\nhis service, and forced them to carry his letters wheresoever he willed.\nChasdai experienced considerable difficulty in transmitting his famous\nletter to the king of the Chazars, and that despite his position of\nauthority in the Spanish State. In 960 a letter on some question of\nKasher was sent from the Rhine to Palestine--proof of the way in which\nthe most remote Jewish communities corresponded.\n\nThe question of the materials used in writing has an important bearing on\nour subject. Of course, the ritual regulations for writing the holy books,\nthe special preparation of the parchment, the ink, the strict rules for the\nformation of the letters, hardly fall within the province of this article.\nIn ancient times the most diverse substances were used for writing on.\nPalm-leaves (for which Palestine of old was famous) were a common object\nfor the purpose, being so used all over Asia. Some authorities believe that\nin the time of Moses the palm leaf was the ordinary writing-material.\nOlive-leaves, again, were thick and hard, while carob-leaves (St. John's\nbread), besides being smooth, long, and broad, were evergreen, and thus\neminently fitted for writing. Walnut shells, pomegranate skins, leaves of\ngourds, onion-leaves, lettuce-heads, even the horns of cattle, and the\nhuman body, letters being tattooed on the hands of slaves, were all turned\nto account. It is maintained by some that leather was the original\nwriting-material of the Hebrews; others, again, give their vote in favor of\nlinen, though the Talmud does not mention the latter material in connection\nwith writing. Some time after Alexander the Great, the Egyptian papyrus\nbecame common in Palestine, where it probably was known earlier, as Jewish\nletters on papyrus were sent to Jerusalem from the Fayyum in the fifth\ncentury B.C.E. Even as late as Maimonides, the scrolls of the Law were\nwritten on leather, and not on parchment, which is now the ordinary\nmaterial for the purpose. That the Torah was not to be written on a\nvegetable product was an assumed first principle. The Samaritans went so\nfar as to insist that the animal whose hide was needed for so holy a\npurpose, must be slain Kasher. Similarly with divorce documents. A Get on\npaper would be held legal _post factum_, though it is not allowed to use\nthat material, as it is easily destroyed or mutilated, and the use of paper\nfor the purpose was confined to the East. Some allowed the Book of Esther\nto be read from a paper copy; other authorities not only strongly objected\nto this, but even forbade the reading of the Haftarah from paper. Hence one\nfinds in libraries so many parchment scrolls containing only the Haftarahs.\nThe Hebrew word for letter, Iggereth, is of unknown origin, though it is\nnow commonly taken to be an Assyrian loan-word. It used to be derived from\na root signifying to \"hire,\" in reference to the \"hired courier,\" by whom\nit was despatched. Other terms for letter, such as \"book,\" \"roll,\" explain\nthemselves. Black ink was early used, though it is certain that it was\neither kept in a solid state, like India ink, or that it was of the\nconsistency of glue, and needed the application of water before it could be\nused. For pens, the iron stylus, the reed, needle, and quill (though the\nlast was not admitted without a struggle) were the common substitutes at\nvarious dates.\n\nWe must now return to the subject with which we set out, and make a few\nsupplementary remarks with regard to the actual conveyance of letters. In\nthe Talmud (_Baba Mezia,_ 83b) a proverb is quoted to this effect, \"He who\ncan read and understand the contents of a letter, may be the deliverer\nthereof.\" As a rule, one would prefer that the postman did not read the\ncorrespondence he carries, and this difficulty seems to have stood in the\nway of trusting letters to unknown bearers. To remove this obstacle to free\nintercourse, Rabbenu Gershom issued his well-known decree, under penalty of\nexcommunication, against anyone who, entrusted with a letter to another,\nmade himself master of its contents. To the present day, in some places,\nthe Jewish writer writes on the outside of his letter, the abbreviation\n[Hebrew: beth-cheth-daleth-resh-''-gimel], which alludes to this injunction\nof Rabbenu Gershom. Again, the Sabbath was and still is a difficulty with\nobservant Jews. Rabbi Jose ha-Cohen is mentioned in the Talmud (_Sabbath_,\n19a) as deserving of the following compliment. He never allowed a letter of\nhis to get into the hands of a non-Jew, for fear he might carry it on the\nSabbath, and strict laws are laid down on the subject. That Christians in\nmodern times entrusted their letters to Jews goes without saying, and even\nin places where this is not commonly allowed, the non-Jew is employed when\nthe letter contains bad news. Perhaps for this reason Rabbenu Jacob Tarn\npermitted divorces to be sent by post, though the controversy on the\nlegality of such delivery is, I believe, still undecided.\n\nBesides packmen, who would often be the medium by which letters were\ntransmitted, there was in some Jewish communities a special class that\ndevoted themselves to a particular branch of the profession. They made it\ntheir business to seek out lost sons and deliver messages to them from\ntheir anxious parents. Some later Jewish authorities, in view of the\ndistress that the silence of absent loved ones causes to those at home, lay\ndown the rule that the duty of honoring parents, the fifth commandment,\nincludes the task of corresponding when absent from them. These peripatetic\nletter-carriers also conveyed the documents of divorce to women that would\notherwise be in the unpleasant condition of being neither married nor\nsingle. Among the most regular and punctual of Jewish postmen may be\nmentioned the bearers of begging letters and begging books. There is no\nfear that _these_ will not be duly delivered.\n\nOur reference to letters of recommendation reminds us of an act, on the\npart of a modern Rabbi, of supererogation in the path of honesty. The post\nis in the hands of the Government, and, accordingly, the late Rabbi\nBamberger of Wurzburg, whenever he gave a Haskamah, or recommendation,\nwhich would be delivered by hand, was wont to destroy a postage stamp, so\nas not to defraud the Government, even in appearance. With this remarkable\ninstance of conscientious uprightness, we may fitly conclude this notice,\nsuggested as it has been by the modern improvements in the postal system,\nwhich depend for their success so largely on the honesty of the public.\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE SHAPE OF MATZOTH\n\nDr. Johnson said, \"It is easier to know that a cake is bad than to make a\ngood one.\" I had a tiny quantity of material which, by dint of much\nrolling, I might have expanded into a broad, flat, unsubstantial whole; I\npreferred, however, to make of my little piece of dough a little cake,\nsmall and therefore less pretentious. I am afraid that even in this\nconcentrated form it will prove flavorless and indigestible, but the cook\nmust be blamed, not the material.\n\nI have no intention to consider the various operations connected with the\npreparation of unleavened Passover cakes: the kneading, the ingredients,\nthe curious regulations regarding the water used, such precautions as\ncarefully watching the ovens. Those who are inclined to connect some of\nthese customs with the practices of non-Jewish peoples will find some\ninteresting facts on all theses topics; but what I wish to speak of now is\nthe shape and form of Passover cakes.\n\nThe Christian emblems that figure in the celebration of the Eucharist, or\nLord's Supper, were probably derived from the ceremonies of the Passover\neve. The bread employed in the Eucharist is with some Christian sects\nunleavened, and, indeed, leavened cakes seem to have been introduced solely\nas a protest against certain so-called Judaizing tendencies. The Latin\nChurch still contends for the propriety of employing unleavened bread, and\nfrom the seventh century unleavened bread was used at Rome and leavened\nbread at Constantinople. From the earliest times, however, the Eucharistic\nloaves were invariably round in shape, there being, indeed, a supposed\nedict by Pope Zephyrinus (197-217) to that effect. It is passing strange\nthat Bona, an ecclesiastical writer, derived this roundness from the shape\nof the coins Judas received for betraying his master. But though there is\nno distinct enactment either in the Talmud or in any of the later codes as\nto what the form of the Matzoth must be, these have been from time\nimmemorial round also. Some Minhagim are more firmly rooted than actual\nlaws, and this custom is one of them. In one of his cartoons, Picard has an\nillustration which is apparently that of a squarish Matzah; this may,\nhowever, be only a case of defective drawing. It is true that in Roumania\nsquare Matzoth are used, but in the controversy raised by the introduction\nof Matzah-making machines, the opponents of the change argued as though no\nother than a round shape were conceivable. Kluger, for instance, never\nseems to have realized that his weightiest objection to the use of the\nmachine would be obviated by making the Matzoth square or rectangular. When\nit was first proposed to introduce Matzah machines in London, the\nresistance came chiefly from the manufacturers, and not from the\necclesiastical authorities. The bakers refused categorically to make square\nMatzoth, declaring that if they did so, their stock would be unsalable.\nEven to the present day no square Matzoth are baked in London; those\noccasionally seen there are imported from the Continent. The ancient\nEgyptians made their cakes round, and the Matzoth are regarded\nMidrashically as a memorial of the food which the Egyptian masters forced\non their Israelite slaves. A round shape is apparently the simplest\nsymmetrical form, but beyond this I fancy that the round form of the\nPassover bread is partly due to the double meaning of Uggoth Matzoth. The\nword Uggoth signifies cakes baked in the sand or hot embers; but Uggah also\nmeans a \"circle.\" To return, however, to the Eucharistic wafers.\n\nA further point of identity, though only a minute detail, can be traced in\nthe regulation that the Eucharistic oblate from which the priest\ncommunicated was, in the ninth century, larger than the loaves used by the\npeople. So the Passover cakes (Shimmurim) used by the master of the house,\nand particularly the middle cake, pieces of which were distributed, were\nmade larger than the ordinary Matzoth. Picard (1723) curiously enough\nreverses this relation, and draws the ordinary Matzoth much larger and\nthicker than the Shimmurim. The ordinary Matzoth he represents as thick\noval cakes, with a single coil of large holes, which start outwards from\nthe centre. Picard speaks of Matzoth made in different shapes, but he gives\nno details.\n\nIn the Middle Ages, and, indeed, as early as Chrysostom (fourth century),\nthe Church cakes were marked with a cross, and bore various inscriptions.\nIn the Coptic Church, for example, the legend was \"Holy! holy! holy is the\nLord of hosts.\" Now, in a Latin work, _Roma subterranea_, about 1650, a\nstatement is made which seems to imply that the Passover cakes of the Jews\nwere also marked with crosses. What can have led to this notion? The origin\nis simple enough. The ancient Romans, as Aringhus himself writes, and as\nVirgil, Horace, and Martial frequently mention, made their loaves with\ncross indentations, in order to facilitate dividing them into four parts:\nmuch as nowadays Scotch scones are baked four together, and the central\ndividing lines give the fourfold scone the appearance of bearing a cross\nmark. It may be that the Jews made their Passover cakes, which were thicker\nthan ours and harder to break, in the same way. But, besides, the small\nholes and indentations that cover the surface of the modern Matzah might,\nif the Matzah be held in certain positions, possibly be mistaken for a\ncross. These indentations are, I should add, very ancient, being referred\nto in the Talmud, and, if I may venture a suggestion, also in the Bible, I\nKings xiv. 3, and elsewhere, Nekudim being cakes punctuated with small\ninterstices.\n\nWe can carry the explanation a little further. The three Matzoth Shimmurim\nused in the Haggadah Service were made with especial care, and in medieval\ntimes were denominated Priest, Levite, Israelite, in order to discriminate\namong them. Picard, by an amusing blunder, speaks of a _gateau des\nlevites;_ he, of course, means the middle cake. From several authorities it\nis clear that the three Matzoth were inscribed in some cases with these\nthree words, in others with the letters _Alef, Beth, Gimmel_, in order to\ndistinguish them. A rough _Alef_ would not look unlike a cross. Later on,\nthe three Matzoth were distinguished by one, two, three indentations\nrespectively, as in the Roman numerals; and even at the present day care is\nsometimes taken, though in other ways, to prevent the Priest, Levite, and\nIsraelite from falling into confusion. I do not know whether the stringent\nprohibition, by the _Shulchan Aruch_, of \"shaped or marked cakes\" for use\non Passover, may not be due to the fact that the Eucharistic cakes used by\nChristians were marked with letters and symbols. Certain it is that the\nprohibition of these \"shaped\" cakes is rather less emphatic in the Talmud\nthan in the later authorities, who up to a certain date are never weary of\ncondemning or at least discouraging the practice. The custom of using these\ncakes is proved to be widespread by the very frequency of the prohibitions,\nand they were certainly common in the beginning of the sixteenth century,\nfrom which period seems to date the custom of making the Matzoth very thin,\nthough the thicker species has not been entirely superseded even up to the\npresent day. In the East the Matzoth are still made very thick and\nunpalatable. They cannot be eaten as they are; they are either softened, by\nbeing dipped in some liquid, or they are ground down to meal, and then\nremade into smaller and more edible cakes.\n\nThe Talmud mentions a \"stamp\" in connection with \"shaped cakes,\" which\nBuxtorf takes for _Lebkuchen_, and Levy for scalloped and fancifully-edged\ncakes. The Geonim, however, explain that they were made in the forms of\nbirds, beasts, and fishes. I have seen Matzoth made in this way in London,\nand have myself eaten many a Matzah sheep and monkey, but, unfortunately, I\ncannot recollect whether it was during Passover. In Holland, these shaped\ncakes are still used, but in \"strict\" families only before the Passover.\n\nLimits of space will not allow me to quote some interesting notes with\nreference to Hebrew inscriptions on cakes generally, which would furnish\nparallels to the Holy! holy! of the Coptic wafers. Children received such\ncakes as a \"specific for becoming wise.\" Some directions may be found in\n_Sefer Raziel_ for making charm-cakes, which must have been the reverse of\ncharming from the unutterable names of angels written on them. One such\ncharm, however, published by Horwitz, I cannot refrain from mentioning, as\nit is very curious and practical. It constitutes a never-failing antidote\nto forgetfulness, and, for aught I know, may be quite as efficacious as\nsome of the quack mnemonic systems extensively advertised nowadays.\n\n  \"The following hath been tried and found reliable, and Rabbi Saadia ben\n  Joseph made use of it. He discovered it in the cave of Rabbi Eleazar\n  Kalir, and all the wise men of Israel together with their pupils applied\n  the remedy with excellent effect:--At the beginning of the month of Sivan\n  take some wheatmeal and knead it, and be sure to remain _standing._ Make\n  cakes and bake them, write thereon the verse, 'Memory hath He made among\n  His wondrous acts: gracious and merciful is the Lord.' Take an egg and\n  boil it hard, peel it, and write on it the names of five angels; eat such\n  a cake every day, for thirty days, with an egg, and thou wilt learn all\n  thou seest, and wilt never forget.\"\n\nThe manuscript illuminated Haggadahs are replete with interest and\ninformation. But I must avoid further observations on these manuscripts\nexcept in so far as they illustrate my present subject. In the Haggadah the\nquestion is asked, \"Why do we eat this Matzah?\" and at the words \"this\nMatzah\" the illuminated manuscripts contain, in the great majority of\ncases, representations of Matzoth. These in some instances present rather\ninteresting features, which may throw historical light on the archeology of\nthe subject. Some of these figured Matzoth are oval, one I have seen\nstar-shaped, but almost all are circular in form. Many, however, unlike the\nmodern Matzah and owing to the shape of the mould, have a broad border\ndistinct from the rest of the cake. The Crawford Haggadah, now in the\nRyland library, Manchester, pictures a round Matzah through which a pretty\nflowered design runs. Others, again, and this I think a very ancient, as it\ncertainly is a very common, design, are covered with transverse lines,\nwhich result in producing diamond-shaped spaces with a very pleasing\neffect, resembling somewhat the appearance of the lattice work cakes used\nin Italy and Persia, I think. The lines, unless they be mere pictorial\nembellishments, are, possibly, as in the Leeds cakes, rows of indentations\nresulting from the punctuation of the Matzah. In one British Museum\nmanuscript (Roman rite, 1482), the star and diamond shapes are combined,\nthe border being surrounded with small triangles, and the centre of the\ncake being divided into diamond-like sections. In yet another manuscript\nthe Matzah has a border, divided by small lines into almost rectangular\nsections, while the body of the cake is ornamented with a design in which\nvariously shaped figures, quadrilaterals and triangles, are irregularly\ninterspersed. One fanciful picture deserves special mention, as it is the\nonly one of the kind in all the illustrated manuscripts and printed\nHaggadahs in the Oxford and British Museum libraries. This Matzah occurs in\nan Italian manuscript of the fourteenth century. It is adorned with a\nflowered border, and in the centre appears a human-faced quadruped of\napparently Egyptian character.\n\nPoetry and imagination are displayed in some of these devices, but in only\none or two cases did the artists attain high levels of picturesque\nillustration. How suggestive, for instance, is the chain pattern, adopted\nin a manuscript of the Michaelis Collection at Oxford. It must not be\nthought that _this_ idea at least was never literally realized, for only\nlast year I was shown a Matzah made after a very similar design, possibly\nnot for use on the first two nights of Passover. The bread of affliction\nrecalls the Egyptian bonds, and it is an ingenious idea to bid us ourselves\nturn the ancient chains to profitable use--by eating them. This expressive\ndesign is surpassed by another, found in a beautifully-illuminated\nmanuscript of the fourteenth century. This Matzah bears a curious device in\nthe centre: it is a prison door modelled with considerable skill, but I do\nnot suppose that Matzoth were ever made in this fashion.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\n\"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT\"\n\nThe connection between Zabara's work and the Solomon and Marcolf legend was\nfirst pointed out in my \"Short History of Jewish Literature\" (1906), p. 95.\nI had long before detected the resemblance, though I was not aware of it\nwhen I wrote an essay on Zabara in the _Jewish Quarterly Review._ To the\nlatter (vi, pp. 502 _et seq._) the reader is referred for bibliographical\nnotes, and also for details on the textual relations of the two editions of\nZabara's poem.\n\nA number of parallels with other folk-literatures are there indicated;\nothers have been added by Dr. Israel Davidson, in his edition of the \"Three\nSatires\" (New York, 1904), which accompany the \"Book of Delight\" in the\nConstantinople edition, and are also possibly by Zabara.\n\nThe late Professor David Kaufmann informed me some years ago that he had a\nmanuscript of the poem in his possession. But, after his death, the\nmanuscript could not be found in his library. Should it eventually be\nrediscovered, it would be desirable to have a new, carefully printed\nedition of the Hebrew text of the \"Book of Delight.\" I would gladly place\nat the disposal of the editor my copy of the Constantinople edition, made\nfrom the Oxford specimen. The Bodleian copy does not seem to be unique, as\nhad been supposed.\n\nThe literature on the Solomon and Marcolf legend is extensive. The\nfollowing references may suffice. J.M. Kemble published (London, 1848)\n\"The Dialogue of Solomon and Saturnus,\" for the Aelfric Society. \"Of all\nthe forms of the story yet preserved,\" says Mr. Kemble, \"the Anglo-Saxon\nare undoubtedly the oldest.\" He talks vaguely of the intermixture of\nOriental elements, but assigns a northern origin to one portion of the\nstory. Crimm had argued for a Hebrew souice, thinking Marcolf a name of\nscorn in Hebrew. But the Hebrew Marcolis (or however one may spell it) is\nsimply Mercury. In the Latin version, however, Marcolf is distinctly\nrepresented as coming from the East. William of Tyre (12th cent.) suggests\nthe identity of Marcolf with Abdemon, whom Josephus (\"Antiquities,\" VIII,\nv, 3) names as Hiram's Riddle-Guesser. A useful English edition is E.\nGordon Duff's \"Dialogue or Communing between the Wise King Salomon and\nMarcolphus\" (London, 1892). Here, too, as in the Latin version, Marcolf is\na man from the Orient. Besides these books, two German works deserve\nspecial mention. F. Vogt, in his essay entitled _Die deutschen Dichtungen\nwon Salomon und Markolf,_ which appeared in Halle, in 1880, also thinks\nMarcolf an Eastern. Finally, as the second part of his \"_Untersuchungen zur\nmittelhochdeutschen Spielmannspoesie_\" (Schwerin, 1894), H. Tardel\npublished _Zum Salman-Morolf._ Tardel is skeptical as to the Eastern\nprovenance of the legend.\n\nIt has been thought that a form of this legend is referred to in the fifth\ncentury. The _Contradictio Solomonis_, which Pope Gelasius excluded from\nthe sacred canon, has been identified with some version of the Marcolf\nstory.\n\n\nA VISIT TO HEBRON\n\nThe account of Hebron, given in this volume, must be read for what it was\ndesigned to be, an impressionist sketch. The history of the site, in so far\nas it has been written, must be sought in more technical books. As will be\nseen from several details, my visit was paid in the month of April, just\nbefore Passover. Things have altered in some particulars since I was there,\nbut there has been no essential change in the past decade.\n\nThe Hebron Haram, or shrine over the Cave of Machpelah, is fully described\nin the \"Cruise of H.M.S. Bacchante, 1879-1882,\" ii, pp. 595-619. (Compare\n\"Survey of Western Palestine,\" iii, pp. 333-346; and the _Quarterly\nStatement_ of the Palestine Exploration Fund, 1882, pp. 197-214.) Colonel\nConder's account narrates the experiences of the present King of England at\nthe Haram in April, 1882. Dean Stanley had previously entered the Haram\nwith King Edward VII, in January, 1862 (see Stanley's \"Sermons in the\nEast,\" 1863, pp. 141-169). A good note on the relation between these modern\nnarratives and David Reubeni's (dating from the early part of the sixteenth\ncentury) was contributed by Canon Dalton to the _Quarterly Statement_,\n1897, p. 53. A capital plan of the Haram is there printed.\n\nMr. Adler's account of his visit to Hebron will be found in his \"Jews in\nMany Lands,\" pp. 104-111; he tells of his entry into the Haram on pp.\n137-138.\n\nM. Lucien Gautier's work referred to is his _Souvenirs du Terre-Sainte_\n(Lausanne, 1898). The description of glass-making appears on p. 53 of that\nwork.\n\nThe somewhat startling identification of the Ramet el-Khalil, near Hebron,\nwith the site of the altar built by Samuel in Ramah (I Sam. vii. 17) is\njustified at length in Mr. Shaw Caldecott's book \"The Tabernacle, its\nHistory and Structure\" (London, 1904).\n\n\nTHE SOLACE OF BOOKS (pp. 93-121)\n\nThe opening quotation is from the Ethical Will of Judah ibn Tibbon, the\n\"father\" of Jewish translators. The original is fully analyzed in an essay\nby the present writer, in the _Jewish Quarterly Review_, iii, 453. See also\n_ibidem_, p. 483. The Hebrew text was printed by Edelmann, and also by\nSteinschneider; by the latter at Berlin, 1852.\n\nA writer much cited in this same essay, Richard of Bury, derived his name\nfrom his birthplace, Bury St. Edmunds. \"He tells us himself in his\n'Philobiblon' that he used his high offices of state as a means of\ncollecting books. He let it be known that books were the most acceptable\npresents that could be made to him\" (\"Dictionary of National Biography,\"\nviii, 26). He was also a student of Hebrew, and collected grammars of that\nlanguage. Altogether his \"Philobiblon\" is an \"admirable exhibition of the\ntemper of a book-lover.\" Written in the early part of the fourteenth\ncentury, the \"Philobiblon\" was first published, at Cologne, in 1473. The\nEnglish edition cited in this essay is that published in the King's\nClassics (De la More Library, ed. I. Gollancz).\n\nThe citation from Montaigne is from his essay on the \"Three Commerces\" (bk.\nin, ch. iii). The same passages, in Florio's rendering, will be found in\nMr. A.R. Waller's edition (Dent's Everyman's Library), in, pp. 48-50. Of\nthe three \"Commerces\" (_i.e._ societies)--Men, Women, and Books--Montaigne\nproclaims that the commerce of books \"is much more solid-sure and much more\nours.\" I have claimed Montaigne as the great-grandson of a Spanish Jew on\nthe authority of Mr. Waller (Introduction, p. vii).\n\nThe paragraphs on books from the \"Book of the Pious,\" Secs. 873-932, have been\ncollected (and translated into English) by the Rev. Michael Adler, in an\nessay called \"A Medieval Bookworm\" (see _The Bookworm_, ii, 251).\n\nThe full title of Mr. Alexander Ireland's book--so much drawn upon in this\nessay--is \"The Book-Lover's Enchiridion, a Treasury of Thoughts on the\nSolace and Companionship of Books, Gathered from the Writings of the\nGreatest Thinkers, from Cicero, Petrarch, and Montaigne, to Carlyle,\nEmerson, and Ruskin\" (London and New York, 1894).\n\nMr. F.M. Nichols' edition of the \"Letters of Erasmus\" (1901) is the source\nof the quotation of one of that worthy's letters.\n\nThe final quotation comes from the Wisdom of Solomon, ch. vi. v. 12; ch.\nviii. vv. 2, 16; and ch. ix. v. 4. The \"radiance\" of Wisdom is, in ch. vii,\n26, explained in the famous words, \"For she is an effulgence from\neverlasting light, an unspotted mirror of the working of God, and an image\nof His goodness.\"\n\n\nMEDIEVAL WAYFARING\n\nThe evidence for many of the statements in this paper will be found in\nvarious contexts in \"Jewish Life in the Middle Ages,\" in the Hebrew travel\nliterature, and in such easily accessible works as Graetz's \"History of the\nJews.\"\n\nAchimaaz has been much used by me. His \"Book of Genealogies\" (_Sefer\nYochasin_) was written in 1055. The Hebrew text was included by Dr. A.\nNeubauer in his \"Mediaeval Jewish Chronicles,\" ii, pp. 114 _et seq_. I\nmight have cited Achimaaz's account of an amusing incident in the synagogue\nat Venosa. There had been an uproar in the Jewish quarter, and a wag added\nsome lines on the subject to the manuscript of the Midrash which the\ntravelling preacher was to read on the following Sabbath. The effect of the\nreading may be imagined.\n\nAnother source for many of my statements is a work by Julius Aronius,\n_Regesten zur Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland,_ Berlin, 1893. It\npresents many new facts on the medieval Jewries of Germany.\n\nThe quaint story of the Jewish sailors told by Synesius is taken from T.R.\nGlover's \"Life and Letters in the Fourth Century\" (Cambridge, 1901), p.\n330.\n\nA careful statement on communal organization with regard to the status of\ntravellers and settlers was contributed by Weinberg to vol. xii of the\nBreslau _Monatsschrift_. The title of the series of papers is _Die\nOrganisation der juedischen Gemeinden_.\n\nFor evidence of the existence of Communal Codes, or Note-Books, see Dr. A.\nBerliner's _Beitraege zur Geschichte der Raschi-Commentare_, Berlin, 1903,\np. 3.\n\nBenjamin of Tudela's \"Itinerary\" has been often edited, most recently by\nthe late M.N. Adler (London, 1907). Benjamin's travels occupied the years\n1166 to 1171, and his narrative is at once informing and entertaining. The\nmotives for his extensive journeys through Europe, Asia, and Africa are\nthus summed up by Mr. Adler (pp. xii, xiii): \"At the time of the Crusades,\nthe most prosperous communities in Germany and the Jewish congregations\nthat lay along the route to Palestine had been exterminated or dispersed,\nand even in Spain, where the Jews had enjoyed complete security for\ncenturies, they were being pitilessly persecuted in the Moorish kingdom of\nCordova. It is not unlikely, therefore, that Benjamin may have undertaken\nhis journey with the object of finding out where his expatriated brethren\nmight find an asylum. It will be noted that Benjamin seems to use every\neffort to trace and afford particulars of independent communities of Jews,\nwho had chiefs of their own, and owed no allegiance to the foreigner. He\nmay have had trade and mercantile operations in view. He certainly dwells\non matters of commercial interest with considerable detail. Probably he was\nactuated by both motives, coupled with the pious wish of making a\npilgrimage to the land of his fathers.\"\n\nFor Jewish pilgrims to Palestine see Steinschneider's contribution to\nRoehricht and Meisner's _Deutsche Pilgerreisen_, pp. 548-648. My statement\nas to the existence of a Jewish colony at Ramleh in the eleventh century is\nbased on Genizah documents at Cambridge, T.S. 13 J. 1.\n\nFor my account of the Trade Routes of the Jews in the medieval period, I am\nindebted to Beazley's \"Dawn of Modern Geography,\" p. 430.\n\nThe Letter of Nachmanides is quoted from Dr. Schechter's \"Studies in\nJudaism,\" First Series, pp. 131 _et seq._ The text of Obadiah of\nBertinoro's letter was printed by Dr. Neubauer in the _Jahrbuch fuer die\nGeschichte der Juden,_ 1863.\n\n\nTHE FOX'S HEART (pp. 159-171)\n\nThe main story discussed in this essay is translated from the so-called\n\"Alphabet of Ben Sira,\" the edition used being Steinschneider's\n(_Alphabetum Siracidis,_ Berlin, 1858).\n\nThe original work consists of two Alphabets of Proverbs,--twenty-two in\nAramaic and twenty-two in Hebrew--and is embellished with comments and\nfables. A full account of the book is given in a very able article by\nProfessor L. Ginzberg, \"Jewish Encyclopedia,\" ii, p. 678. The author is not\nthe Ben Sira who wrote the Wisdom book in the Apocrypha, but the ascription\nof it to him led to the incorporation of some legends concerning him. Dr.\nGinzberg also holds this particular Fox Fable to be a composite, and to be\nderived more or less from Indian originals.\n\n\n\"MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN\"\n\nThe chief authorities to which the reader is referred are: _Midrash Rabba_,\nGenesis Section 68; Leviticus Section 29; and Numbers Sections 3 and 22.\nFurther, _Midrash Tanchuma_, to the sections _Ki tissa, Mattoth_, and\n_Vayishlach; Midrash Samuel_, ch. v; Babylonian Talmud, _Moed Katon_, 18b,\nand _Sotah_, 2a.\n\nIn Dr. W. Bacher's _Agada der Tannaiten_, ii, pp. 168-170, will be found\nimportant notes on some of these passages.\n\nI have freely translated the story of Solomon's daughter from Buber's\n_Tanchuma_, Introduction, p. 136. It is clearly pieced together from\nseveral stories, too familiar to call for the citation of parallels. With\none of the incidents may be compared the device of Sindbad in his second\nvoyage. He binds himself to one of the feet of a rukh, _i.e._ condor, or\nbearded vulture. In another adventure he attaches himself to the carcass of\na slaughtered animal, and is borne aloft by a vulture. A similar incident\nmay be noted in Pseudo-Ben Sira (Steinschneider, p. 5).\n\nCompare also Gubernatis, Zool. Myth, ii, 94. The fabulous anka was banished\nas punishment for carrying off a bride.\n\nFor the prayers based on belief in the Divine appointment of marriages, see\n\"Jewish Life in the Middle Ages,\" ch. x.\n\nOne of the many sixteenth century Tobit dramas is _Tobie, Comedie De\nCatherin Le Doux: En laquelle on void comme les marriages sont faicts au\nciel, & qu'il n'y a rien qui eschappe la providence de Dieu_ (Cassel,\n1604).\n\n\nHEBREW LOVE SONGS\n\nFrom personal observation, Dr. G.H. Dalman collected a large number of\nmodern Syrian songs in his _Palaestinischer Diwan_ (Leipzig, 1901). The\nsongs were taken down, and the melodies noted, in widely separated\ndistricts. Judea, the Hauran, Lebanon, are all represented. Dr. Dalman\nprints the Arabic text in \"Latin\" transliteration, and appends German\nrenderings. Wetzstein's earlier record of similar folk-songs appears in\nDelitzsch's Commentary on Canticles--_Hohelied und Koheleth_,--1875 and\nalso in the _Zeitschrift fuer Ethnologie_, v, p. 287. Previous commentators\nhad sometimes held that the Song of Songs was a mere collection of detached\nand independent fragments, but on the basis of Wetzstein's discoveries,\nProfessor Budde elaborated his theory, that the Song is a Syrian\nwedding-minstrel's repertory.\n\nThis theory will be found developed in Budde's Commentary on Canticles\n(1898); it is a volume in Marti's _Kurzer Hand-Commentar zum Alten\nTestament_. An elaborate and destructive criticism of the repertory theory\nmay be read in Appendix ii of Mr. Andrew Harper's \"Song of Solomon\" (1902):\nthe book forms a volume in the series of the Cambridge Bible for Schools.\nHarper's is a very fine work, and not the least of its merits is its\nexposition of the difficulties which confront the attempt to deny unity of\nplot and plan to the Biblical song. Harper also expresses a sound view as\nto the connection between love-poetry and mysticism. \"Sensuality and\nmysticism are twin moods of the mind.\" The allegorical significance of the\nSong of Songs goes back to the _Targum_, an English version of which has\nbeen published by Professor H. Gollancz in his \"Translations from Hebrew\nand Aramaic\" (1908).\n\nProfessor J.P. Mahaffy's view on the Idylls of Theocritus may be read in\nhis \"History of Greek Literature,\" ii, p. 170, and in several pages of his\n\"Greek Life and Thought\" (see Index, _s.v._).\n\nThe passage in which Graetz affirms the borrowing of the pastoral scheme by\nthe author of Canticles from Theocritus, is translated from p. 69 of\nGraetz's _Schir ha-Schirim, oder das salomonische Hohelied_ (Vienna, 1871).\nThough the present writer differs entirely from the opinion of Graetz on\nthis point, he has no hesitation in describing Graetz's Commentary as a\nmasterpiece of brilliant originality.\n\nThe rival theory, that Theocritus borrowed from the Biblical Song, is\nsupported by Professor D.S. Margoliouth, in his \"Lines of Defence of the\nBiblical Revelation\" (1900), pp. 2-7. He also suggests (p. 7), that\nTheocritus borrowed lines 86-87 of Idyll xxiv from Isaiah xi. 6.\n\nThe evidence from the scenery of the Song, in favor of the natural and\nindigenous origin of the setting of the poem, is strikingly illustrated in\nG.A. Smith's \"Historical Geography of the Holy Land\" (ed. 1901), pp.\n310-311. The quotation from Laurence Oliphant is taken from his \"Land of\nGilead\" (London, 1880).\n\nEgyptian parallels to Canticles occur in the hieroglyphic love-poems\npublished by Maspero in _Etudes egyptiennes_, i, pp. 217 _et seq_., and by\nSpiegelberg in _Aegyptiaca_ (contained in the Ebers _Festschrift_, pp. 177\n_et seq_.). Maspero, describing, in 1883, the affinities of Canticles to\nthe old Egyptian love songs, uses almost the same language as G.E. Lessing\nemployed in 1777, in summarizing the similarities between Canticles and\nTheocritus. It will amuse the reader to see the passages side by side.\n\n[Transcriber's Note: In our print copy these were set in parallel columns.]\n\nMASPERO\n\n  Il n'y a personne qui, en lisant la traduction de ces chants, ne soit\n  frappe de la ressemblance qu'ils presentent avec le Cantique des\n  Cantiques. Ce sont les memes facons ..., les memes images ..., les memes\n  comparaisons.\n\nLESSING\n\n  Immo sunt qui maximam similitudinem inter Canticum Canticorum et\n  Theocriti Idyllia esse statuant ... quod iisdem fere videtur esse verbis,\n  loquendi formulis, similibus, transitu, figuris.\n\nIf these resemblances were so very striking, then, as argued in the text of\nthis essay, the Idylls of Theocritus ought to resemble the Egyptian poems.\nThis, however, they utterly fail to do.\n\nFor my acquaintance with the modern Greek songs I am indebted to Mr. G.F.\nAbbott's \"Songs of Modern Greece\" (Cambridge, 1900). The Levantine\ncharacter of the melodies to Hebrew Piyyutim based on the Song of Songs is\npointed out by Mr. F.L. Cohen, in the \"Jewish Encyclopedia,\" i, p. 294,\nand iii, p. 47.\n\nThe poem of Taubah, and the comments on it, are taken from C.J.L. Lyall's\n\"Translations of Ancient Arabic Poetry, chiefly prae-Islamic\" (1885), P.\n76.\n\nThe Hebrew text of Moses ibn Ezra's poem--cited with reference to the\nfigure of love surviving the grave--may be found in Kaempf's _Zehn Makamen_\n(1858), p. 215. A German translation is given, I believe, in the same\nauthor's _Nichtandalusische Poesie andalusischer Dichter._\n\nMany Hebrew love-poems, in German renderings, are quoted in Dr. A.\nSulzbach's essay, _Die poetische Litteratur_ (second section, _Die\nweltliche Poesie_), contributed to the third volume of Winter and Wunsche's\nJuedische Litteratur (1876). His comments, cited in my essay, occur in that\nwork, p. 160. Amy Levy's renderings of some of Jehudah Halevi's love songs\nare quoted by Lady Magnus in the first of her \"Jewish Portraits.\" Dr. J.\nEgers discusses Samuel ha-Nagid's \"Stammering Maid\" in the Graetz\n_Jubelschrift_ (1877), pp. 116-126.\n\n\nGEORGE ELIOT AND SOLOMON MAIMON\n\nThe Autobiography of Solomon Maimon (1754-1800) was published in Berlin\n(1792-3) in two parts, under the title _Salomon Maimon's Lebensgeschichte._\nMoses Mendelssohn befriended Maimon, in so far as it was possible to\nbefriend so wayward a personality. Maimon made real contributions to\nphilosophy.\n\nThe description of Daniel Deronda's purchase of the volume is contained in\nch. xxxiii of the novel. In Holborn, Deronda came across a \"second-hand\nbook-shop, where, on a narrow table outside, the literature of the ages was\nrepresented in judicious mixture, from the immortal verse of Homer to the\nmortal prose of the railway novel. That the mixture was judicious was\napparent from Deronda's finding in it something that he wanted--namely,\nthat wonderful piece of autobiography, the life of the Polish Jew, Salomon\nMaimon.\"\n\nThe man in temporary charge of the shop was Mordecai. This is his first\nmeeting with Deronda, who, after an intensely dramatic interval, \"paid his\nhalf-crown and carried off his 'Salomon Maimon's Lebensgeschichte' with a\nmere 'Good Morning.'\"\n\n\nHOW MILTON PRONOUNCED HEBREW\n\nMilton's transliterations are printed in several editions of his poems;\nthe version used in this book is that given in D. Masson's \"Poetical\nWorks of Milton,\" in, pp. 5-11. The notes of the late A.B. Davidson on\nMilton's Hebrew knowledge are cited in the same volume by Masson (p. 483).\nLandor had no high opinion of Milton as a translator. \"Milton,\" he said,\n\"was never so much a regicide as when he lifted up his hand and smote\nKing David.\" But there can be no doubt of Milton's familiarity with the\noriginal, whatever be the merit of the translations. To me, Milton's\nrendering of Psalm lxxxiv seems very fine.\n\nThe controversy between the advocates of the versions of Rous and\nBarton--which led to Milton's effort--is described in Masson, ii, p. 312.\n\nReuchlin's influence on the pronunciation of Hebrew in England is discussed\nby Dr. S.A. Hirsch, in his \"Book of Essays\" (London, 1905), p. 60. Roger\nBacon, at a far earlier date, must have pronounced Hebrew in much the same\nway, but he was not guilty of the monstrosity of turning the _Ayin_ into a\nnasal. Bacon (as may be seen from the facsimile printed by Dr. Hirsch) left\nthe letter _Ayin_ unpronounced, which is by far the best course for\nWesterns to adopt.\n\n\nTHE CAMBRIDGE PLATONISTS\n\nHenry More (1614-1687) was the most important of the \"Cambridge\nPlatonists.\" Several of his works deal with the Jewish Cabbala. More\nrecognized a \"Threefold Cabbala, Literal, Philosophical, and Mystical, or\nDivinely Moral.\" He dedicated his _Conjectura Cabbalistica_ to Cudworth,\nMaster of Christ's College, Cambridge, of which More was a Fellow. Cudworth\nwas one of those who attended the Whitehall Conference, summoned by\nCromwell in 1655 to discuss the readmission of the Jews to England.\n\nPlatonic influence was always prevalent in mystical thought. The Cabbala\nhas intimate relations with neo-Platonism.\n\n\nTHE ANGLO-JEWISH YIDDISH LITERARY SOCIETY\n\nThe question raised as to the preservation of Yiddish is not unimportant at\nthis juncture. It is clear that the old struggle between Hebrew and Yiddish\nfor predominance as the Jewish language must become more and more severe as\nHebrew advances towards general acceptance as a living language.\n\nProbably the struggle will end in compromise. Hebrew might become one of\nthe two languages spoken by Jews, irrespective of what the other language\nmight happen to be.\n\n\nTHE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA\n\nThe full title of Professor Oman's work is \"The Mystics, Ascetics, and\nSaints of India. A Study of Sadhuism, with an account of the Yogis,\nSanyasis, Bairagis, and other strange Hindu Sectaries\" (London, 1903).\n\nThe subject of asceticism in Judaism has of late years been more\nsympathetically treated than used to be the case. The Jewish theologians of\na former generation were concerned to attack the excesses to which an\nascetic course of life may lead. This attack remains as firmly justified as\never. But to deny a place to asceticism in the Jewish scheme, is at once to\npronounce the latter defective and do violence to fact.\n\nSpeaking of the association of fasting with repentance, Dr. Schechter says:\n\"It is in conformity with this sentiment, for which there is abundant\nauthority both in the Scriptures and in the Talmud, that ascetic practices\ntending both as a sacrifice and as a castigation of the flesh, making\nrelapse impossible, become a regular feature of the penitential course in\nthe medieval Rabbinic literature\" (\"Some Aspects of Rabbinic Theology,\"\n1909, PP. 339-340).\n\nMoreover, the fuller appreciation of the idea of saintliness, and the\nhigher esteem of the mystical elements in Judaism--ideas scarcely to be\ndivorced from asceticism--have helped to confirm the newer attitude. Here,\ntoo, Dr. Schechter has done a real service to theology. The Second Series\nof his \"Studies in Judaism\" contains much on this subject. What he has\nwritten should enable future exponents of Judaism to form a more balanced\njudgment on the whole matter.\n\nFortunately, the newer view is not confined to any one school of Jewish\nthought. The reader will find, in two addresses contained in Mr. C.G.\nMontefiore's \"Truth in Religion\" (1906), an able attempt to weigh the value\nand the danger of an ascetic view of life. It was, indeed, time that the\nJewish attitude towards so powerful a force should be reconsidered.\n\n\nLOST PURIM JOYS\n\nThe burning of Haman in effigy is recorded in the _Responsa_ of a Gaon\npublished by Professor L. Ginzberg in his \"Geniza Studies\" (\"Geonica,\" ii,\npp. 1-3). He holds that the statement as to the employment of \"Purim\nbonfires among the Babylonian and Elamitic Jews as given in the _Aruch_ (s.\nv. [Hebrew: shin-vav-vav-resh]) undoubtedly goes back to this _Responsum_.\"\n\nOn Purim parodies much useful information will be found in Dr. Israel\nDavidson's \"Parody in Jewish Literature\" (New York, 1907). See Index s.v.\nPurim (p. 289).\n\nFor a statement of the supposed connection between Purim and other spring\nfestivals, see Paul Haupt's \"Purim\" (Baltimore, 1906), and the article in\nthe \"Encyclopaedia Biblica,\" cols. 3976-3983. Such theories do not account\nadequately for the Book of Esther.\n\nSchodt _(Juedische Merkwuerdigkeiten,_ 1713, ii, p. 314) gives a sprightly\naccount of what seems to have been the first public performance of a Purim\nplay in Germany.\n\n\nJEWS AND LETTERS\n\nLeopold Loew investigated the history of writing, and of the materials used\namong the Jews, in his _Graphische Requisiten und Erzeugnisse bei den\nJuden_ (2 vols., Leipzig, 1870-71).\n\nOn Jewish letter-carriers in Germany, see the article of Dr. I. Kracauer in\nthe \"Jewish Encyclopedia,\" viii, p. 15. The first Post-Jude is named in\n1722. These Jewish letter-carriers received no salary from the Government,\nbut collected a fee from the recipients of the letters.\n\nThe Talmudic _Be-Davvar_ [Hebrew: beth-yod-(maqqef)-daleth-vav-aleph-resh]\nwas really a Court of Justice (perhaps a Circuit Court). As, however,\n_davvar_ meant a despatch-bearer, the phrase _Be-Davvar_ passed over later\ninto the meaning Post-Office. _Davvar_ seems connected with the root _dur,_\n\"to form a circle\"; the pael form _(davvar)_ would mean \"to go around,\"\nperhaps to travel with merchandise and letters.\n\n\nTHE SHAPE OF MATZOTH\n\nIn the twentieth chapter of Proverbs v. 17, we find the maxim:\n\n  \"Bread gained by fraud is sweet to a man,\n   But afterwards his mouth will be filled with gravel.\"\n\nThe exact point of this comparison was brought home to me when I spent a\nnight at Modin, the ancient home of the Maccabees. Over night I enjoyed the\nhospitality of a Bedouin. In the morning I was given some native bread for\nbreakfast. I was very hungry, and I took a large and hasty bite at the\nbread, when lo! my mouth was full of gravel. They make the bread as\nfollows: One person rolls the dough into a thin round cake (resembling a\nMatzah), while another person places hot cinders on the ground. The cake is\nput on the cinders and gravel, and an earthenware pot is spread over all,\nto retain the heat. Hence the bread comes out with fragments of gravel and\ncinder in it. Woe betide the hasty eater! Compare Lamentations iii. 16, \"He\nhath broken my teeth with gravel stones.\" This, then, may be the meaning of\nthe proverb cited at the head of this note. Bread hastily snatched,\nadvantages thoughtlessly or fraudulently grasped, may appear sweet in\nanticipation, but eventually they fill a man's mouth with gravel.\n\nThe quotation from Paulus Aringhus' _Roma subterranea novissima_ will be\nfound in vol. ii, p. 533 of the first edition (Rome, 1651). This work,\ndealing mainly with the Christian sepulchres in Rome, was reprinted in\nAmsterdam (1659) and Arnheim (1671), and a German translation appeared in\nArnheim in 1668. The first volume (pp. 390 _et seq._) fully describes the\nJewish tombs in Rome, and cites the Judeo-Greek inscriptions. There is much\nelse to interest the Jewish student in these two stately and finely\nillustrated folios.\n\n\n\n\n[Transcriber's Note: \"Betwen\" was corrected to \"between\" in chapters III\nand VII.]","title":"The Book of Delight, and other papers","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":69505}