SEVEN STORIES. Miss Helene Gingold has received from the Prince of Wales the expression of his thanks for the volume of her latest work, entitled u Seven Stories," which he has accepted with much pleasure. SEVEN STORIES. BY HELENE E. A. GINGOLD. The world's all title page : there's no contents ; The world's all face : the man who shows his heart Is hooted for his nudities, and scorn'd. Young's Night Thoughts. SECOND EDITION. REMINGTON AND CO., LIMITED, LONDON AND SYDNEY. MDCCCXCIII. All Rights Reserved* TO MY UNCLE, BARON NICOLA NISCO OF SAINT GIORGIO LA MONTAGNA, Senator, Deputy, and Historian Royal of Italy, THIS HUMBLE VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY AND RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. NOTE. The subjoined letter, a translation of which appears on the page next following, is one of which I may claim to be justly gratified. In ex- pressing gratification at being the recipient of such flattering sentiments, let me also hasten to add that it is not because they emanate from a Royal personage, but because they are the thoughts of one who has gained a world-wide reputation in the field of Art and Literature. <3eb.*0abtnet fr. T^olKttfc faon S. COBURG GOTHA. ffiobutg, 3m ^ocfeften Sluftrag beefyre id? mid) 3faen mttjutbeilcn, ban Seine $ofyeit bet 4>^og t>on 3^^ n anjtcbenfcen 25id)tungen mit freunt>lid)em Sntereffe Jtenntnijj genommen l)at unb namenfUd) fca Salent anerfennt, ba in ben realiftifd) ^ebalienen Sitter fd)ilberun^en SbreS Sloman^ 511 Sage tritr Seine MKft if} S^nen fur bie Itcben^iviircige S^ rr ^^ in ber te tie ericiigniffe ^ijm 3Wufe 4>5cbjiDemfclben bar* gebotcn baben, aufrid)tig banfbar, unb ali ein 3ol)ett ju iiberfenben. DR. TEMPLET^Y. (TRANSLATION.) GEH. -CABINET SR. HOHEIT DES HERZOGS VON COBURG. S. COBURG GOTHA. HIGHLY ESTEEMED Miss GINGOLD, By command of H.H. the Duke of Saxe Coburg Gotha, I have much pleasure in informing you that H.H. has accepted and read with the greatest interest your charming book of poems. H.H. especially and fully recognises the descriptive and highly realistic talent evinced in your novel. Further H.H. sincerely and gratefully thanks you for the charming manner with which your works were tendered to him. I am further commissioned by H.H. to send you his accompanying photograph and autograph as a mark of the high esteem and consideration evinced by H.H. for your works. Pray accept the marks of my highest consideration. DR. TEMPLETEY. PREFACE. So often have I had the pleasure of addressing my friends, the Public, that it would appear that I am well used to it. But indeed such is not entirely the case. For, although an actor may, after a while, play a certain role with assurance, hey presto ! his courage all flies when he^ is facing a critical audience for the first time in a new character. My former works have had such a favourable reception that I have been emboldened to take a novel departure (for me) and publish a series of what I call " SEVEN STORIES." Thus I stand before the curtain, the apprehensive actor in a new play, not yet knowing how my efforts will be received. It has been the custom since time immemorial for authors to say something of PREFACE. their work in the Preface, and from this time- honoured usage I shall not depart, although I intend my remarks shall be as brief as possible. One of my reasons for publishing this volume is, that it has appeared to me that short stories are required just as much as long ones. There is many a hard-worked man, aye, and woman too, who, on being asked if they have read this or that novel, answer deprecatingly (of themselves) " Well, no ! The story is not a short one, and I haven't the time." These are people busy in the world of " Kunst und Wissenschaft," Members of Parliament, Doctors, Lawyers, Theologians, etc. Stories are written for the children of men, novels are written for those who have much time on their hands. But what of those sons and daughters of Earth whose every hour is precious, and who have little to spend on novel reading ? For these especially I have written my Seven Short Stories, seeing that they are neglected by the rest of writers. It may be argued that my intentions are better than my work. To this I reply that I did my best, and that not to instruct and enlighten, but to amuse, and if I succeed in diverting the work-harrassed brain, be it but PREFACE. for one short hour, I well know that these humble stories have not been written in vain. I claim no especial distinction or inspiration for my book, only that I wrote more with Nature than with Art. INDEX. PAGE. 1. THE RABBI OF Moscow. (A Story of Two Religions.) - 3 2. VERITAS. (A Metaphysical Story,) - 29 3. How TOM BELLAMY WON MY LORD HERTFORD'S WAGER. (An Olden- Time Sporting Story.) - 61 4. THE WHITE PRIEST. (A Ghost Story.) 93 5. WHOSE WAS THE GUILT? (The Story of a Social Problem.) - 133 6. THE DYING PROFESSOR. (A True Story.) - 147 7. THE Two BROTHERS. (A Story of the Crusades.) - - 155 THE RABBI OF MOSCOW. I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is ? Merchant of Venice. THE RABBI OF MOSCOW. A STORY OF LONG AGO, BUT WHICH MAY DO FOR TO-DAY. " Trim the lamp, my Leah ; and prythee, my clearly beloved grandchild, bring thy lute hither, for my heart to-night is fraught with some strange foreboding of impending ill, which thy sweet voice alone may serve to dispel." The speaker was an old man of reverend aspect, whose snowy beard swept his breast, as did his locks his broad but slightly stooping shoulders. His countenance, at once noble and benign, was such as not years of oppression and suffering could alter in expression. All that remained of the fire of his youth, showed itself in his black, penetrating eyes, which also bore somewhat of the look of the hunted animal in their rapid glances. 4 THE RAnrii OF Moscow. No small wonder this, for he was one of the accursed race, without the power of following hi:> belief, as even the idol worshipper may. He had been driven he and his community from place to place, and now he feared to be exiled again, for he wished to end his days in peace, where he had already been permitted to dwell for five years. His grand-daughter was all that remained 'of his family. His wife had died years before, leaving him an only daughter, and this one had married an honourable and wealthy Jew. But wealth and honour were nought he was a Jew, and that was enough to brand him. The fiat went forth. The Jews must fly the country. Leah's mother succumbed in the snow with many others, and her husband shortly afterwards followed her to the grave a poor heartbroken exile. For he had not been allowed time to collect his property. But the iron-built Rabbi remained to take charge of the infant grandchild, and he reared her as gently as the clove, yet instilling also into -her mind the pride and lofty aspirations of the young eaglet. Beautiful, and full of affection for her old kinsman, the 3'outhful Jewess exerted herself to render the thorny path of the Rabbi less hard and bitter. THE RABBI OF Moscow. 5 This it was in her power to do, by singing to him such melodies as seemed the echoes of lost Jerusalem, and which were like a healing salve to his wounded spirit. That night Leah seemed, too, in a sorrowful frame of mind ; for, as she sat on a silken cushion at the old man's feet, she sang the following : LEAH'S SONG. I. By the rivers of Babylon, captives, we wept, As a child by its mother forgot ; And grief, like an ocean, o'er us swept, For Zion, lov'd Zion, was not ! II. We hang'd our harps on the willow-tree boughs, They bid us to sing, but in vain, For who, unto song, their hearts can arouse, When bound in captivity's chain. III. Driven like brutes, from strand unto strand, Our minds e'en as fetter'd as we, O ! give back the land, we call our dear land, Where we may still reverence thee ! IV. These climes our lov'd melodies ne'er shall know, Their words were not writ for the slave, For us, hapless Israel, remains but below, Rememb'rance tears and the grave ! 6 THE RABBI OF Moscow. The last notes of the plaintive melody fell tremblingly from the singer's lips, nor was her grandfather less moved than she, as he tenderly placed a hand on her dark tresses, for in the blessing that he uttered, fell tears of sorrow, too. "Was that a new song, my child ? " asked the Rabbi Solomon, for such was his name. " I have never heard thee sing it before ? " " Nay, grandfather," answered the fair creature, a faint blush mantling her cheek, which was of the hue of ivory, " I composed it, even as I sang it, for the Spirit came over me." " May the Spirit come over me, as well," said the old man, with strange earnestness, " so that I may save the righteous from the hand of the evil-doer." Now let us leave the Rabbi and his grand- daughter for awhile and learn the cause of their anxiety. In Moscow, where the Jews had then settled after having been torn from their homes, their property destroyed, and their very privileges as human creatures laughed to scorn lived an avaricious minister, who did all in his power to have them expelled from the country. In vain he looked for a reason to have them THE RABBI OF Moscow. 7 dismissed, he could find nothing against them ; for they were peaceable, harmless, and the most industrious portion of the community. This Minister, Radamoff by name, was a great favourite with the Czar, who, though not so black-hearted as his servant, yet cordially disliked the Israelites on account of their being thrifty, hardworking and saving, whereas his subjects were lazy, and given to spending their all on Vodka. Besides, Czar as he was, he was not above wishing to replenish his impoverished coffers with the Jews' honest savings. It so happened on the night Leah sang to her grandfather that it was the night before the eve of Passover ; and, knowing this, Radamoff thought it a fitting time to work a plot he had planned against the Jews. On the night in question he feigned to be sad and downcast, as though a sudden misfortune had befallen him ; so well indeed was his misery acted that the Czar was struck by it, and kindly asked the reason of his discomfiture. "Whataileth thee, Radamoff?" he asked of his favourite. The conversation took place in an apartment 8 THE RABBI OF Moscow. in the Imperial Palace, where the Emperor and his minister some times sat together discussing the affairs of state and other things which come not under the heading of politics. " My Lord is too good and great," returned the other, " for him to heed the grief of one of his most miserable servants." " Nay ; I insist on knowing the cause of thy sorrow," cried the Czar, on whose weak heart the broken tones of his favourite had a visible effect. 4i And if it be in my power I will help thee." " I mourn for my country I mourn for the Christians," cried the wily Radamoff, as though the confession were wrung from him. " How ? " demanded the Monarch completely mystified, " doth aught threaten my subjects of which I know naught ? " " The Jews ! the Jews ! " ejaculated Radamoff, falling on his knees before his Sovereign, as though in an agony of supplication. " He bites," he thought, as he watched between his fingers the rapid changes pass over the Czar's face. "What is it with these Jews?" exclaimed he, wrath fully. " Am I destined never to hear the end of them ? They are always doing some THE RABEI OF Moscow. 9 mischief which none can find out. I command thee to tell me instantly what new devilment they have perpetrated." " The day after to-morrow is their Passover," rapidly answered Radamoff, " and to-morrow night a Christian will be slain to supply them with blood for their unholy rite." The ruler rose from his seat and strode up and down the magnificent chamber in a great wrath. " If this be true," he cried between his clenched teeth, showing them in all ferocity, as one of his own Siberian wolves might, " then i swear to Heaven that those who take part in the murder shall be flayed alive, and every other Jew driven out of the Empire." This arrangement suited the avaricious Minister admirably, for many of the Israelites, reaping the reward of their indefatigable industry, had become exceedingly wealthy. M Now," thought he, " I shall not only satisfy my hatred of them, but I shall be able to seize on most of their valuable possessions." " Remember," observed the Czar, as his precious minister was leaving the apartment, io THE RABBI OF Moscow. " we must have proof positive of the Jews' guilt, otherwise the people will condemn thee if thou seek'st to slay the innocent." Without having been told at the beginning of this tale, my reader will know I am writing of that which happened long ago, when even the Russian people were like the rest of humanity, and would not see a wrong done with impunity. To-day ah ! to-day they have changed ! 11 Fear not, Sire," answered Radamoff, " their guilt shall be proved so indisputably that the people themselves shall wish to tear them in pieces." And it came to pass that on the same night that this transpired in the Imperial Palace, the good old Rabbi Solomon, retiring to rest in his humble dwelling, had a wondrous vision. He thought he had fallen asleep, and this sleep might have lasted for two hours, when he was awakened by the sound of sweet music, the like of which he had never heard in all his days before. He sat up, entranced and bewildered ; when lo and behold ! it seemed as though the ceiling of his room was lifted up up up, he knew not whither, and, instead, his awestruck eyes rested on a dazzling THE RABBI OF Moscow. 1 1 throng of lovely forms, whom he knew to be angels. Then he saw them divide themselves into two groups one to the right and one to the left and in the centre appeared a long, long flight of steps, as though reaching from the blue em- pyrean, as white as alabaster, and shining like the sun, and down this flight of stairs he saw a figure descend, with looks of divine love and beatitude on his countenance. Nearer and nearer ap- proached this glorious form, which was that of an old and a young man harmoniously blended together, until it stood at the last step, leaning on a staff that had the appearance of a sunbeam. " Dost thou know me, my son ? " asked the vision. "Thou art Father Abraham," answered the Rabbi in Hebrew, with a blessing ; " on whose bosom is life for evermore. Blessed art thou to eternity." " Dost thou fear me ? " said the vision, gently. "Were my love less, oh Father, my fears would be great indeed. But I love thee," he added simply. A smile of infinite loving-kindness overspread his face. 12 THE RABBI OF Moscow. "Ask me what thou wilt," said the vision again. " Nay ; speak thou, thy son heareth," returned the Rabbi. " Oh ! tell me why thou hast come to me, and not I to thee, seeing that I am not dead." "Thy people are threatened with destruction, my son." "Alas ! I know it. How how can I avert the calamity ? " " I will show thee," said the vision ; and forth- with he made signs, and spoke in a tongue which the good Rabbi, learned as he was, could not understand. However, he uttered a fervent and pious prayer, and soon after fell asleep, and was only awakened by the appearance of the warm morning sun peering into his room. He told no one of his wonderful visitation, although he marvelled much to know the mean- ing of the strange words and signs which the vision of Abraham had uttered and made. About mid-day he was shocked and pained to find that many of his congregation had been grievously insulted by their Christian neighbours. THE RABBI OF Moscow. 13 They complained to him how they had been hooted, chased, and even beaten in the public streets ; and how they had been called " mur- derers/' and that no official would interfere in their behalf. The Rabbi Solomon was at a loss to know from which quarter those cruel annoyances sprung, and sorrowed much that he had not been able to understand the signs of the vision of the night before. Towards eventide his granddaughter, Leah, who had been out walking with her old nurse, returned home with her great eyes humid with tears, and her raven tresses disordered with running. " Oh, my grandfather ! " she sobbed out. " God's people are indeed undone, for they now accuse us in the town of having stolen a Christian child, to use her blood for our Passover." " God hath never deserted His beloved, nor will He now," murmured the Rabbi, softly. " Heed them not, my Leah, the hour of deliverance is at hand, when we shall weep no more." What the young maiden had said was too true. Radamoff had ordered one of his servants to steal a Christian child, and his hirelings had 14 THE RABBI OF Moscow. bruited the story abroad that the Jews had stolen a child for her blood. The child's parents ran about the city with their story of woe, and demanded their little one. Already the foolish and cruel falsehood had found credence with the wisest and best citizens. It was with a sad heart that the Rabbi on the Eve of Passover sought his bed, and long and fervently he prayed that he might be directed in what manner he might save his people from the clanger that threatened them. In the middle of the night, lo and behold he heard a voice which said to him : " Art thou there, Solomon, my son ? " And he answered after the manner of the Prophet of old : " Speak, thou man of God, for His servant heareth." And he opened his eyes, and the vision of Abraham, as on the preceding night, was before him. Then his heart leaped with a great joy, and he blessed God exceedingly. Again he saw the long, long flight of stairs of dazzling whiteness, and once more he saw the form, as that of an old and young man harmoniously THE RABBI OF Moscow. 1 5 blended, leaning on the staff like a sunbeam. Myriads of beautiful forms thronged each side of the stairs, as though waiting on him. "Yet a little while, and I shall be with you again," said the vision of Abraham to the Angels, and then the Rabbi Solomon saw the seraphs and the snow-white steps disappear, and the form of Abraham, shrouded in light, stood alone in the room. "Thou didst not understand me yesternight, my son, and I forgot that the language spoken on high is not understood by mortals. See, I am come now to rectify my error." " O, my God ! " cried the Rabbi, whilst a great wave of joy spread over his heart, clearing his fears away. " How shall I extol thee, thou who hast lifted up my soul from the grave, so that thy servant and his flock go not down into the bottomless pit ? Holy, holy, holy is Thy name, O ! Lord of Hosts, and blessed art Thou for evermore." The vision of Abraham looked upwards as the other spoke, as though to bless him silently. "Come now, my son, and follow me," spoke Abraham, "and I will show thee what is to 16 .TiiE RABBI OF Moscow. be done to baulk the designs of Israel's enemies." Then, beckoning the Rabbi to follow him, the vision went from the room, and the Rabbi Solomon found he was leading him out of the house into the silent streets. " Fear not," said the vision, as though he divined something that was passing in the other's mind. " None shall see thee, and thy grandchild is as safe in the house as though, indeed, she were amidst the Blessed. For she is guarded by angels." A few yards from the Rabbi's dwelling stood the synagogue, which was a very large, albeit, unpretending structure. Ungainly and poor though the building was, 3^et, I wot, God listened to the prayers of the worshippers in that humble place as much, aye, and more, than the orizons of those who thronged the magnificent Cathedrals in the fashionable quarters. The Rabbi Solomon, felt not the cold, although his feet were bare and his body clad but in one thin garment. The watch passed him crying : THE RABBI OF Moscow. 17 The clock has stricken three, But the City is free From sin and harm. Then be ye calm, Good citizens. The man's rough jacket touched the Rabbi, and the former trembled as though suddenly stricken with ague. But the man saw him not, because he walked with the servant of God. The vision and the Rabbi entered the sacred building, and the former led his follower up to that part of the building where the ark stood. Now the ark is the repository of the tables of the covenant amongst the Jews. Here were also vessels which, according to custom, had been filled by the Rabbi. " With what hast thou filled the vessels, nry son ? " asked the vision, mildly. " With wine, oh, thou blessed servant of the Lord," answered the Priest, a little surprised at the question, "according to the law of the Israelites." " See what they contain now ! " The Priest did as he was bidden, and a cry of c 1 8 THE RABBI OF Moscow. horror arose from his lips as in a hoarse voice he called out : " It is blood ! human blood ! Oh, God 1 " Although dark everywhere else, just where they stood fell a strong ray of light, more powerful even than the sun, which clearly showed to the Priest that it was indeed what he said, had any doubts arisen in his mind. " All the vessels contain blood," spoke the vision sadly. " Command me what to do with them," said the Rabbi tremblingly ; " for the blood of a human being is too holy a thing that I should pour it away as water." The angel looked at the old man, and his glance was so full of holy radiance and divine love that he was dazzled, and closed his eyes, and lo and behold 1 when he opened them again the vessels stood in their accustomed places full of wine, nor was there a sign or trace of blood about them or anywhere else. The Rabbi questioned not as to how this miracle came about, but accepted what his Maker sent him with silent and devout gratitude. " Who did this cruel thing, Father Abraham, THE RABBI OF Moscow. 19 so that thy descendants and that of Isaac and Israel should die ?" asked the Rabbi, at last, in tones, where reverence td that which he addressed, .and anger of whom he spoke, were strongly mingled. " The Czar's Minister, Radamoff. But return my son, it waxeth late, and I must away." Then they left the Synagogue, and returned to the Rabbi's house in the same way as they had come from it. The good old man lay down on his bed, and as he saw the vision of Abraham fade away with the same look of divine love and beatitude as when he first saw it, he felt as though he would depart with him. He mourned that he should leave him, so much did his soul cleave to the servant of the Most High. However, he sunk into a deep slumber, and was only awakened by hearing a clamouring as of many voices in anger outside his house. He rose, .and hastily throwing a white mantle, fashioned like a toga, round him, went to the casement to ascertain the meaning of the extraordinary oc- currence. What was his astonishment to see the street crowded with people who seemed full of rage, judging by the terrible execrations that filled the air with unholy music. c 2 2O THE RABBI OF Moscow. Amidst that wild din of many blasphemous and angry tongues, he could hear that the populace accused him him the God-fearing and loving, gentle priest of murder ! But a strange, holy calm pervaded his heart, even when he heard them threaten to raze his house to the ground, for he was armed without by possessing that aegis shield within a quiet and good conscience. " Open, in the Czar's name ! " thundered one at the head of a body of soldiers. The Rabbi hastened to his door, and, opening it, stood like a picture of some old Saint, with his snowy locks falling over his shoulders, and his white beard sweeping over the folds of his* mantle. He confronted Radamoff and the Czar. He made an obeisance, and mildly asked what they wished of him. " Thou hast slain a Christian child for thy vile rites," boldly said Radamoff. " Come with us unto thy Tabernacle, for it is there where we shall find the blood of the unfortunate creature.'' " Be it as you wish, but the Lord will judge between us," answered the Rabbi. " Come with us now, wretch," cried Radamoff,, Tin: RABBI OF Moscow. 21 " and presume not to stand here parleying before the Czar." They forced him to lead the way to the Syna- gogue, the crowds behind shouting maledictions on the priest's head, and threatening to tear him limb from limb. The guards, at a sign from the cruel minister, broke open the doors of the sacred edifice, at which insult the Rabbi's eyes flashed, and his blood surged within him as with the indignation of youth. " Respect this place," he cried out, with a mighty voice, so all did hear him. " For it is not dedicated to a false God, or a graven image, but one Universal God your God as well as our God. The Lord of Mercy, as he shall be the Lord of Wrath." These words, spoken in sonorous tones, coupled with the majestic and dignified bearing of the old man, had great effect. The crowds thronged the place of worship in silence ; whilst the Czar, Radamoff, and the guards who surrounded the former, walked towards the Ark, led by the Rabbi. "Ay, 'tis here where you keep your vessels,'* said the relentless Radamoff, exultantly. " For 22 THE RABBI OF Moscow. I have been a witness of your Jewish rites, before to-day. Bring forth the cups, and lay them at the feet of His Imperial Majesty the Czar. 19 The Czar stood a little way oft* partially surrounded by his guards with folded arms look- ing at the Jewish priest ; for something, he knew not what, rivetted his eyes and attention on his person. Near him stood Radamoff, triumph glistening in his Tartar eyes, although his countenance was hypocritically mournful, as though he were shocked to be present at so horrible an occasion. Silence reigned as deep as Eternity, and the people who thronged the Synagogue seemed to have hushed their breaths. The Rabbi, with an unsung hymn of praise and rejoicing in his heart, brought forth the vessels, and set them at the feet of the Czar, who, how- ever, still remained as though transfixed, his eyes still resting on the Jew. Then the sun burst forth and a great stream of light shone full upon the old priest's face, and his lips wore a smile of loving recollection, for had not yesternight the vision of Abraham trod in the very same spot where he, Solomon, now stood ? THE RABBI OF Moscow. 23 A murmur arose amidst the people, as though they whispered : " Look, look, he is a man of God, although he be a Jew." But he heard them not, for his thoughts were elsewhere, and it seemed as though the vision of Abraham had left a strange glory on his face, even as Moses had when he descended from Mount Sinai after he had communed with God. " See ! see, Sire 1" cried Radamoff, growing uneasy and anxious to have the affair at an end. " These vessels are full of blood." " Nay, your sight misgives you," mildly spoke the Rabbi, suddenly called back by the voice of his cruel enemy. " They are full of wine." " 'Tis blood I say," cried. Radamoff, fiercely, blinding himself to the fact. " If 'tis wine," he added, with a satanic laugh, " drink Jew." " Right willingly, Christian," answered the Rabbi, and taking one of the cups at the Czar's feet, he quaffed from the vessel many times. At this act the autocrat with an effort seized two of the vessels and examined them closely, After a little time he tasted of them. " The Rabbi says truly," he observed, gravely, 24 THE RABBI OF Moscow. yet with a slight ring of disappointment in his voice. " These vessels contain wine, and that of the best." " 'Tis false, false, false !" almost shrieked Radamoff in a frenzy. An angry frown gathered over the despot's brow. " The Lord hath judged between thee and me," the old priest said, devoutly. " And His people are saved this day, as they were saved in years gone by from the devices of the wicked Haman. The blood these vessels once contained was of thy shedding. Christians! a Christian hath slain a child amongst you !" " Who told thee ?" shrieked Radamoff, cower- ing before the priest. " Abraham/' solemnly answered the Israelite. " He descended even from Heaven to warn me." The Minister, had, indeed, committed the horrid crime of slaying the child stolen by one of his servants, and putting her blood into the vessels, so that the Jews should be annihilated. At this answer a terrible yell burst from the throat of the wretched Minister, and he fell prone to the ground in a pool of blood. When they THE RABBI OF Moscow. 25 went to raise him, according to the Czar's com- mand, their warm, living hands touched a cold, lifeless corpse. " Oh, God ! " prayed the Jewish priest over his fallen Christian foe, " show compassion to the wicked. They need thy mercy most who have sinned most. The good have already been blessed by Thee in being good." Then the people, recognising the hand of God in the awful punishment that befel the Minister, knelt down they that had come to slay and worshipped with the priest of Israel in his place of worship. For in great calamities, or in great triumphs, especially those concerning the mind, men must fly to that which is infinite. Seek not for this brief story in the hope to find it recorded in the annals of history ; and seek for it not in the worm-eaten chronicles of the scribe, for it was but written in the hearts of men at the time it happened ; and when these hearts became dust it was forgotten, like all that is good and noble too often is. But of this thing I am certain. When the Day of Reckoning comes, when nations shall be gathered together, and barbaric rulers weighed 26 THE RABBI OF Moscow. in the balance with the poorest beggar ; then, for each groan of anguish wrung from the hearts of an unoffending and industrious race, a just and merciful God shall claim indemnity a thousand- fold. VERITAS. Oh, Virtue ! I have followed you through life and fine? you but a Shade. Euripides. Oh, Earth ! all bathed with blood and tears ; yet never Hast thou ceased putting forth thy fruit and flowers ! Corinnc (Mme. dc Stael) Translated.- VERITAS. Mavorel was a writer. He was one of those kindly natured people who are always performing better acts for humanity than humanity does for them. In a word, he was a handsome and generous fellow, and one also at times impecunious. When he made an extra amount of money he would spend it royally in one night, in the company of one or more convivial friends. With gold in his pocket, nothing but the finest dinner, flanked by the finest wine, would suit him. The next day, in all probability, he would not have sufficient where- with to buy a meal. However, this did not matter much, as his numerous friends idolised him, and willingly would have shared with him the proverbial crust, although, possibly, they would not have been quite so generous with their purses. Of course, Mavorel had his light-o'- loves for what man, whether writer or other- 30 VERITAS. wise, hath not but even in these his nobler feelings asserted themselves and no word of love ever escaped him to delude earth's most unfortunate -creatures. He respected innocence, and no young girl had ever been tempted from the path of virtue by him. He argued within himself that there was plenty of sin in the world and that he had no desire to add to it. One night he found himself landed high and dry in his modest lodgings with a very vacant feeling in his stomach, and only a modest silver coin to satisfy it in his pocket. There was no food in the house and nothing ordered, and he found after deep ^cogitation that he would have to seek a meal out of doors. He thought, with his mouth watering, how famously he had supped the night before on hare soup, on soles cooked in white wine, on .grilled crab, on roast partridges with cream sauce and oysters stewed in champagne, and he cursed himself for not having had a less Lucullus-like feast, so he should have had at least a sovereign in his pocket to-night. But he was always doing the same thing, and all his resolutions to save came to nothing. Besides, if he only dined sumptuously himself it would not VERITAS. 3 1 be so bad ; it would not make such a big hole in his pocket. But he had no appetite to dine alone. He must bring one or more friends with him. That was what emptied this good-for- nothing's pocket. This good-for-nothing, for whom even the crustiest and most austere of beings had a good word to say. Mavorel, full of hunger and philosophy for it is curious how hunger will make some men philosophical put on his hat and coat, and was soon one amidst the hurrying pedestrians in the street " Now what shall I do ? " he thought. " Shall I get a dish of meat, bread, potatoes with my money or what now ? " This last ejaculation was caused by the fact of an old pedlar falling heavily against him, pushed by a thoughtless member of the moving throng. " How now ? " exclaimed Mavorel again, " What's the matter, old man ? " The man addressed seemed in a sort of stupor, and, seeing this, the writer hastily dragged him into a side street, for the sight of the cadaverous face, with the long, white beard, tattered garments, and sunken eyes of the old man touched his compassionate heart. 32 VERITAS. " I am starving ! " faltered the old man, opening his eyes, and straightening himself with an effort, " I have not eaten a crust of bread since the day before yesterday, and I cannot sell my wares." " Here, my poor friend ; your wants are greater than mine/' said Mavorel, unconsciously adopting a great and gentle courtier's famous speech, and casting his last piece of silver hastily in the trembling hand of the beggar, he left him, and was soon lost in the street again, which was like a restless ocean with human waves. Mavorel remembered suddenly that he had an important article to write, and, finding he would have no more time to wander about or to seek his friends, returned home, and, filling his pipe, smoked placidly for a few moments. Finding this conducive to writing, he sat himself down to work in earnest. Scarcely had he been seated for a few moments than he heard a knock at his door, which he followed up by a cheery invitation for his visitor to enter. The door opened, and, before he was aware, the old pedlar whom he had assisted in the street, stood before him. " Old man, you walk quickly," exclaimed VERITAS. 33 Mavorel, not best pleased to find who his visitor was. " Are you ashamed of your charity ? " asked the visitor. "Am I not flesh and blood like yourself? Do you think that money is all a beggar wants ? Have they no human feelings like yourself? Do you think that the heart of the beggar yearns only for earthly food ? Young man, I tell you that you know not humanity ! " " How so ? " asked Mavorel, intensely surprised to hear the pedlar talk in this fashion. " How so ? " reiterated the stranger, " I shall tell you. After you helped me with your money you treat me with scorn because of my tattered garments. This shows your want, not of heart, but of knowledge of humankind. Do you think because my coat is torn and soiled that my soul cannot be immortal and clean ? Are you better than a beggar ? You who have to bow to earn your bread before men who are more foolish than you ? Is a politician better than a beggar who cringes before a monarch for a place and sinecure? Is a king better than a beggar, when he is forced to pray God that his life may not be undone by a 34 VERITAS. traitor's hand, and his throne unshaken by sedition ? All men are beggars, and God the only Benefactor." Mavorel recoiled from the old man half in fear, half in astonishment. " You speak truly, old man," he observed at last, pensively. 41 1 do hey ? " chuckled the beggar, " for in truth, if I speak not truly, none can. But begging is after all but a sorry business. Last night as I was traversing a fashionable quarter I stopped in front of a fine mansion. Presently the portals of this mansion opened, and a young man with a frank face came out, and a handsome woman, with a shawl thrown over her head, kissed her hand to him from the window. ' I shall be back soon/ he said fondly. He was her husband. 4 1 shall count the hours, love, till you return/ she called back. The gates were closed, and he passed me and gave me a coin. He had scarcely turned the corner of the street when a carriage swiftly and silently came from another direction. A handsome and sinister man descended at the gates of the mansion, and opened them with a key of his own. Three hours after- VERITAS. 35 wards he left the mansion, laughing. It was the old, old tale of the false friend, the false wife, and the unsuspicious and loving husband. The wicked man in passing me threw me a gold piece. Oh, how it weighs me down to accept the wages of the unrighteous ; begging is indeed a sorry business." " But who are you ?" asked Mavorel. " You who are attired as a beggar, and talk like a philosopher." " I am a magician," returned the old fellow, his eyes twinkling with a strange light. " Some travelling charlatan," observed the writer, shrugging his shoulders. " I have met many of them before." " You do not believe me then, when I tell you* that I am a real enchanter ?" " Certainly not !" answered Mavorel, as con- temptuously as possible. " Do you take me for a dolt ?" The old beggar did not respond to his younger companion's scornful interrogatory, but laughed softly to himself. " Thou art by no means a good host, my son," said the old man, " and since thou wilt not D 2 36 VERITAS. offer it I will help myself to thy excellent wine." " In truth I have nothing," exclaimed Mavorel, ruefully. " But I tell thee that thou hast/' returned the stranger ; and stepping to the sideboard he opened the cupboard thereof, and from thence sure enough drew two bottles which appeared full of wine. " Here, drink !" he continued, pouring out a huge bumper for the young man. " It is the finest stuff that mortal ever tasted. The grapes- from which it is made come from a portion of the vine grown in the Garden of Eden before man's fall." The writer laughed incredulously, and took up the bumper. How the wine, yellow as gold r danced and foamed in the glass. It seemed as though fairy-like forms flitted upwards with the thousand bubbles that rose and broke on the surface. " I drink to thy health, most noble magician !" Mavorel said, and tossed off the wine with a half mocking smile. " By the Gods, it is famous," he added, as he set down the glass, empty. VERITAS. 37 " Greybeard, give me more, whether 'tis grown in Hell or Heaven, it matters not. Thy wine is most excellent." Chuckling quietly, the old man filled the writer's glass again, and yet again ; until, indeed no more remained in the bottles. " Would'st thou have more ; art thou hungry ?" asked the stranger. " I neither hunger or thirst for meat or drink ; though I thirst indeed to know who you are ?" cried the writer. The wine surged into his young blood, and heated him. " Tell me indeed who thou art, old quack !" he laughed boisterously, sand seized him by the hand. " Know then, I am that spirit which men call ''Truth,' " responded the stranger, in deep and sonorous tones, freeing himself from the young man's now awe-stricken clasp. " I have wandered over the earth for thousands of years. Young and beautiful I dwelt in the Garden of Eden ere Adam and Eve lied to Heaven's mighty King. Then I grew suddenly old, and thus wander ever. Men have eternally outraged my mandates, thus it is that I have clad myself in these tattered garments, for when the soul is in mourning, gay clothes are cast aside. Since 38 VERITAS. men are liars, Truth must a beggar be ; and 1 beg eternally for truth. Yes, I am the spirit called Veritas 1" Mavorel bent humbry before the Spirit, and said in a low, sad voice " I too have outraged thee, Veritas ; pardon me, oh, pardon me !" " Away with fear/' answered Veritas, " you shall be my pupil, and I will teach thee some lessons ; and show thee marvellous things." Encouraged by the wine as much as by the reassuring words of the Spirit, Mavorel sprang to his feet, full of life and energy. Instead, however, of seeing before him a decrepit beggar, he beheld a handsome old man, of majestic aspect, wrapped in a mantle of some strange material, the texture of which mortal eye never beheld before. " Come with me to my house," spake Veritas. 11 It is so narrow here." They left Mavorel's lodgings then, and descended into the street. They walked together some distance, and at last approached a magnificent mansion, which Mavorel did not remember having seen before, although he was. VERITAS. 39 thoroughly acquainted with all parts of the city. Veritas stopped before the gates of the mansion, and drawing forth a key, inserted it in the lock, which opened instantly. They entered, and the gates closed voluntarily behind them. The spirit Veritas led the way into the house, and passing some spacious corridors and ascending a marble staircase, the balustrades of which were of gold, inlaid with precious stones, at last opened the door of a chamber, into which he invited Mavorel to enter. Mavorel did so, and was astonished at the magnificence of which even the wildest dream of an Eastern, under the influence of hashish, could not picture forth. Overcome with wonder and excitement the young man sank in a divan, and exclaimed : " If this unparalleled splendour is the reward of Truth and Virtue, then I henceforth shall evermore be their disciple." 11 Virtue and goodness lie but in the hearts of men," said Veritas. "They are least virtuous who strive to appear so. The followers of Truth often starve, and vice walks abroad in broadcloth. But what then ? Is virtue only to be practised like a craft ? " 40 VERITAS. " I swear by Heaven, I shall be thy apostle evermore, Veritas !" the young man cried ardently. " Alas, stripling !" the Spirit spake mournfully. 4t I know too well the sons of man." " But I am different. In good truth I am !" Mavorel said, quickly and warmly. " I am different to others ! I can be noble and virtuous if I chose." Veritas answered not, but sat beside the writer as though wrapped in deep meditation. Ever and anon he glanced at Mavorel, as though in pity, and then his eyes would lose that sorrowful look, and appear lost in speculation, of which Mavorel knew the world had no part. " But come !" he said abruptly, after a long pause, in which Mavorel examined the marvellous apart- ment, and each second bringing a fresh beauty to sight. " I have promised to show you some things, and I must perform what I have declared to you I would." With these words Veritas raised his right hand, in which he held a short golden wand, and lo and behold ! Mavorel perceived, at a little distance, a curtain as though made of crystal, VERITAS. 41 flashing with jewels, and stretching from the lofty ceiling to the floor. Presently the curtain was drawn aside by an invisible agency, and he saw stretched before him another great and noble apartment in which was a throne, and on this throne sat a monarch. Round about him were courtiers and sycophants, lords of high degree and prelates the least amidst them. And all seemed well with the king, and his throne on a firm basis. But suddenly it appeared as though a veil fell from Mavorel's eyes. He saw that the King, though to all outward appearance magnani- mous and splendid, was a poltroon and coward, and that the sword of Damocles hung over his head suspended by a hair. " Why doth the potentate fear and tremble ?" asked Mavorel. " Because he uses his power to crush an industrious race ; and he feels that the hour of retribution is always nigh. The wicked, how- ever powerful, walk in dread, nor is that dread without foundation." " I pray thee, Veritas, show me another scene, for in truth I meddle not with the fate of kings or countries," observed the writer, smiling, as 42 VERITAS. the scene faded away, and the jewelled curtain fell once more. " So, ho !" laughed the Spirit, softly. " Be it as you wish," and again he raised his wand, and once more the crystal curtain was drawn aside. This time, the scene which presented itself troubled Mavorel sorely. For stretched before him was a marvellous garden of flowers and shrubs, growing in rich profusion. There were fountains whose perfumed waters spouted up high, and fell sprinkling the jasmine, the roses, and magnolias. There was a stream whose waters were like molten gold rippling over pebbles of marble, on whose surface water-lilies lightly rested. The nightingales had already commenced their song, for the night had come, and the stars bedecked Heaven's blue canopy. In the midst of this beautiful garden and it was this that troubled Mavorel greatly was a bank of rare exotics ; flowers whose faces were like human beings, some sad, some jo}^ous, and some pensive, and seated on this bank was a personage of such dazzling beauty, the like of whom Mavorel had never dreamed of in his wildest dreams. A robe of samite was twisted about her in serpentine VERITAS. 43 coils, and each coil seemed to have another colour. Her face, although beautiful in the extreme, wore a discontented expression, and her fair white hands were clasped nervously together. She wore but one jewel, and that was a diamond cross, the stones of which were so large and brilliant that it made the young man's eyes close involuntarily. His breath came short and quickly. He wanted to rush forward, and throw himself at her feet, and beg a flower from her hand. A strong grasp held him back. " What are you doing ?" asked Veritas, sternly, " Stay here." The beautiful woman here rose from the bank of flowers, and stretched forth her arms imploringly to Mavorel. " Take me, oh, take me ! " she cried in a beseeching voice. The young man rose again, and was again held back by Veritas. " Let me go," he cried, in a choking voice. " Stay ! I command thee !" "Take, oh, take me with thee," the woman cried again, in a voice of stronger entreaty. 44 VERITAS. " Dost hear me, greybeard ? Let go, I say ! " -exclaimed the young man, overcome by the beauty of the woman, and forgetting who Veritas was. " Thou shalt remain here/' the Spirit said calmly. "Take me, oh, take me!" the woman said again, coming forward and upsetting what little reason still remained in Mavorel's brain. "This diamond cross will buy all we want. Let us fly from here." " Mavorel, stay ! " Veritas said, holding him back. " Take me ! " the woman cried again. Seeing the old man would not free him from his powerful grasp, Mavorel seized a poniard, which, curiously enough, lay in close proximity, and, without another thought, plunged it into the old man's heart. He, with a groan of anguish, fell to the ground, dead ! Scarcely had Mavorel done this terrible deed than the whole air seemed to resound with cries of " Take me, take me ! " until the place spun round him. "Now come with me," the young man said in a VERITAS. 45 voice he scarce recognised as his own. " We will fly from here together." The beautiful creature, for whom he had com- mitted the fell act, advanced, and they both sought to find an exit from the room. But they looked in vain. The crystal curtain had fallen, closing the garden from view, so they could not search there. Presently, as Mavorel walked hurriedly about,, his foot struck the lifeless corpse of Veritas. Now he looked like the old beggar to whom he had given alms in the street, and then, his heat and passion being over, Mavorel felt his heart overcome with pity and remorse. He looked at the beautiful woman, and shuddered, wondering how his hand could have stricken down the gentle Spirit for her sake. Tears of grief fell from his eyes, as he leant over the corpse, and, with a sudden desperate resolve, he plucked the poniard from Veritas" heart, and was just about to plunge it into his- own, when his hand was stayed by a stronger one than his, and a known voice said : "Thou see'st, Mavorel, it is n)t so easy to be virtuous." 46 VERITAS. The young writer turned, and beheld Veritas standing before him, majestic and benign as heretofore. Mavorel fell on his knees to the Spirit, crying : " Judge me as thou wilt. However severe the punishment, it cannot be as great as my crime ! " " Arise, poor youth!" Veritas spake com- passionately. " Thy heart is good although thy principles are not strong. For yonder woman, who hath but outward beauty and no inward grace, thou wouldst have slain me ; and so stained for ever thy immortal soul." " Pardon me ! " murmured Mavorel sorrowfully. " I have pardoned thee. Go from here, and take with thee that creature for whom thou hadst committed a crime." " I pray thee, most gentle Veritas ! " the young man said falteringly. "Grant me yet another request ere I leave thee to spend in penance the rest of my days." " Name thy wish," Veritas returned gently. " That she whose face and words erst tempted me to sin may never come again before mine eyes," Mavorel answered, in a low tone, with VERITAS. 47 his eyes bent and his arms folded across his breast. " We love not then the companions of sin when sin has left us ? " the Spirit said with half-jesting, half-kindly voice. " So be it then." And lo, when the young man raised his eyes the beautiful woman had vanished, and he and Veritas stood alone in the room. " Come Mavorel ; ponder no more over thy sin. 'Twas but the fleeting poison of thy youth's young blood ; and I have pardoned thee," Veritas said pityingly, touching the young man's hand. " Would that I could forgive myself, as thou dost me ! " answered Mavorel, " and that the memory of my deed need never come before me." " Nay 1 " the Spirit made answer. " Even God is deprived of making that which is past never to have been. But thou shalt not leave me yet. I have more marvels still to show thee." So saying, the spirit left Mavorel alone for a little while, and, when he returned, brought with him three urns of curious and fantastic workman- ship. These he set down before the young writer, 48 VERITAS. and bade him look at the inscription on each of them. Mavorel perceived some strange hiero- glyphics carved on the lids, which he could not decipher, and Veritas said, mournfully shaking his head : "Well do I believe, Oh! Son of Man, that canst not read these strange characters. Know, then, that the words inscribed on these vases, are in the language the world spoke ere the Tower of Babel was built. It was the only thing our first parents carried with them from Eden ; and it was lost for evermore in Shinar, through the presumption of man, when he tried to build a tower reaching Heaven's Kingdom. On this one," he continued, pointing to the first urn, " is inscribed a word which meaneth ' Wisdom ;' on the second is inscribed another word, which meaneth 'Virtue/ and on the third is written the word meaning ' Wealth.' Mavorel ! I bid thee now to choose of the three, of which one thou wouldst wish to be possessed. Reflect, and speak, and I will grant it thee ! What is thy desire ? Wisdom, Virtue, or Wealth ! " The young man for a few moments was too overcome even to think. The prospect of an VERITAS. 49 abundance of either Wisdom or Wealth dazzled his senses. But, on a sudden he became calm, and he spoke as in a soliloquy : " If I were wealthy ? Could wealth give me happiness ? I have seen the rich miserable, because they have not wisdom ; and I have seen the wise miserable, because they are not rich. A rich man hath no real friends, and I, a poor one, have. I am richer than the rich man. Shall I buy hypocrisy and flattery ? If I am rich to-day, to-morrow my mind will cry for that which money cannot buy ; therefore, Wealth, I'll none of thee. And, what sayest thou, oh ! Wisdom ? Thou, the only thing that can be taken with us beyond the grave ? If I choose thee, the world will be mine own ; kings will be my courtiers, and the universe my court. Wisdom can purchase riches, and I shall be rich, as well as wise. But stay ! With Wisdom cometh discontent. For, when we are wise, all we know is, how little we know. And then Wisdom destroys love. For to love and be wise is denied even the Gods ! Why should I, to obtain fame and power, renounce the dear friends of my }^outh ? Those friends, who even now, as I stand here in this mystic place, E 5