THE BOOK OF DELIGHT 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER PAPERS 
 
THE BOOK OF DELIGHT 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER PAPERS 
 
 BY 
 
 ISRAEL ABRAHAMS, M. A. 
 
 Author of "Jewish Life in the Middle Ages," "Chapters on 
 Jewish Literature," etc. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 THK JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY or AMERICA 
 
 1912 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1912, 
 
 BY 
 THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA 
 
PREFACE 
 
 , 
 
 The chapters of this volume were almost all 
 spoken addresses. The author has not now changed 
 their character as such, for it seemed to him that 
 to convert them into formal essays would be to rob 
 them of any little attraction they may possess. 
 
 One of the addresses that on " Medieval Way 
 faring " was originally spoken in Hebrew, in 
 Jerusalem. It was published, in part, in English 
 in the London Jewish Chronicle, and the author is 
 indebted to the conductors of that periodical for 
 permission to include this, and other material, in 
 the present collection. 
 
 Some others of the chapters have been printed 
 before, but a considerable proportion of the volume 
 is quite new, and even those addresses that are re 
 printed are now given in a fuller and much revised 
 text. 
 
 As several of the papers were intended for pop 
 ular audiences, the author is persuaded that it would 
 ill accord with his original design to overload the 
 book with notes and references. These have been 
 
 5 
 
PREFACE 
 
 supplied only where absolutely necessary, and a few 
 additional notes are appended at the end of the 
 volume. 
 
 The author realizes that the book can have little 
 permanent value. But as these addresses seemed to 
 give pleasure to those who heard them, he thought 
 it possible that they might provide passing enter 
 tainment also to those who are good enough to read 
 them. 
 
 ISRAEL ABRAHAMS 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, ENG., September, 1911 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. " THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 9 
 
 II. A VISIT TO HEBRON 62 
 
 III. THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 93 
 
 IV. MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 122 
 
 V. THE Fox s HEART 159 
 
 VI. " MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 172 
 
 VII. HEBREW LOVE SONGS 184 
 
 VIII. A HANDFUL OF CURIOSITIES 
 
 i. George Eliot and Solomon Maimon 242 
 
 ii. How Milton Pronounced Hebrew 247 
 
 iii. The Cambridge Platonists 251 
 
 iv. The Anglo-Jewish Yiddish Literary Society 255 
 
 v. The Mystics and Saints of India 259 
 
 vi. Lost Purim Joys 266 
 
 vii. Jews and Letters 273 
 
 viii. The Shape of Matzoth 290 
 
 NOTES 3 oi 
 
 INDEX 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT 
 
 Joseph Zabara has only in recent times received 
 the consideration justly due to him. Yet his 
 " Book of Delight," finished about the year 1200, 
 is more than a poetical romance. It is a golden link 
 between folk-literature and imaginative poetry. 
 The style is original, and the framework of the 
 story is an altogether fresh adaptation of a famous 
 legend. The anecdotes and epigrams introduced 
 incidentally also partake of this twofold quality. 
 The author has made them his own, yet they are 
 mostly adapted rather than invented. Hence, the 
 poem is as valuable to the folklorist as to the 
 literary critic. For, though Zabara s compilation 
 is similar to such well-known models as the " Book 
 of Sindbad," the Kalilah ve-Dimnah, and others 
 of the same class, yet its appearance in Europe is 
 half a century earlier than the translations by which 
 these other products of the East became part of 
 the popular literature of the Western world. At 
 the least, then, the " Book of Delight " is an impor 
 tant addition to the scanty store of the folk-lore 
 
 9 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 records of the early part of the thirteenth century. 
 The folk-lore interest of the book is, indeed, 
 greater than was known formerly, for it is now 
 recognized as a variant of the Solomon-Marcolf 
 legend. On this more will be said below. 
 
 As a poet and as a writer of Hebrew, Joseph 
 Zabara s place is equally significant. He was one 
 of the first to write extended narratives in He 
 brew rhymed prose with interspersed snatches of 
 verse, the form invented by Arabian poets, and 
 much esteemed as the medium for story-telling and 
 for writing social satire. The best and best-known 
 specimens of this form of poetry in Hebrew are 
 Charizi s Tachkemom, and his translation of 
 Hariri. Zabara has less art than Charizi, and far 
 less technical skill, yet in him all the qualities are 
 in the bud that Charizi s poems present in the full 
 blown flower. The reader of Zabara feels that 
 other poets will develop his style and surpass him ; 
 the reader of Charizi knows of a surety that in him 
 the style has reached its climax. 
 
 Of Joseph Zabara little is known beyond what 
 may be gleaned from a discriminating study of the 
 " Book of Delight." That this romance is largely 
 autobiographical in fact, as it is in form, there can 
 be no reasonable doubt. The poet writes with so 
 
 10 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 much indignant warmth of the dwellers in certain 
 cities, of their manner of life, their morals, and 
 their culture, that one can only infer that he is re 
 lating his personal experiences. Zabara, like the 
 hero of his romance, travelled much during the 
 latter portion of the twelfth century, as is known 
 from the researches of Geiger. He was born in 
 Barcelona, and returned there to die. In the inter 
 val, we find him an apt pupil of Joseph Kimchi, in 
 Narbonne. Joseph Kimchi, the founder of the 
 famous Kimchi family, carried the culture of Spain 
 to Provence; and Joseph Zabara may have ac 
 quired from Kimchi his mastery over Hebrew, 
 which he writes with purity and simplicity. The 
 difficulties presented in some passages of the " Book 
 of Delight " are entirely due to the corrupt state of 
 the text. Joseph Kimchi, who flourished in Pro 
 vence from 1150 to 1170, quotes Joseph Zabara 
 twice, with approval, in explaining verses in Pro 
 verbs, It would thus seem that Zabara, even in his 
 student days, was devoted to the proverb-lore on 
 which he draws so lavishly in his maturer work. 
 
 Dr. Steinschneider, to whom belongs the credit 
 of rediscovering Zabara in modern times, infers 
 that the poet was a physician. There is more 
 than probability in the case; there is certainty. 
 
 11 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 The romance is built by a doctor; there is more 
 talk of medicine in it than of any other topic 
 of discussion. Moreover, the author, who denies 
 that he is much of a Talmudist, accepts the compli 
 ment paid to him by his visitor, Enan, that he is 
 " skilled and well-informed in the science of medi 
 cine." There is, too, a professional tone about 
 many of the quips and gibes in which Zabara in 
 dulges concerning doctors. Here, for instance, is 
 an early form of a witticism that has been attributed 
 to many recent humorists. " A philosopher," says 
 Zabara, " was sick unto death, and his doctor gave 
 him up; yet the patient recovered. The convales 
 cent was walking in the street when the doctor met 
 him. You come/ said he, from the other world/ 
 * Yes, rejoined the patient, * I come from there, 
 and I saw there the awful retribution that falls on 
 doctors; for they kill their patients. Yet, do 
 not feel alarmed. You will not suffer. I told them 
 on my oath that you are no doctor/ " 
 
 Again, in one of the poetical interludes (found 
 only in the Constantinople edition) occurs this very 
 professional sneer, u A doctor and the Angel of 
 Death both kill, but the former charges a fee." 
 Who but a doctor would enter into a scathing de 
 nunciation of the current system of diagnosis, as 
 
 12 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 Zabara does in a sarcastic passage, which Erter 
 may have imitated unconsciously? And if further 
 proof be needed that Zabara was a man of science, 
 the evidence is forthcoming; for Zabara appeals 
 several times to experiment in proof of his asser 
 tions. And to make assurance doubly sure, the 
 author informs his readers in so many words of his 
 extensive medical practice in his native place. 
 
 If Zabara be the author of the other, shorter 
 poems that accompany the " Book of Delight " in 
 the Constantinople edition, though they are not 
 incorporated into the main work, we have a further 
 indication that Zabara was a medical man. There 
 is a satirical introduction against the doctors that 
 slay a man before his time. The author, with mock 
 timidity, explains that he withholds his name, lest 
 the medical profession turn its attention to him with 
 fatal results. " Never send for a doctor," says the 
 satirist, " for one cannot expect a miracle to hap 
 pen." It is important, for our understanding of 
 another feature in Zabara s work, to observe that 
 his invective, directed against the practitioners 
 rather than the science of medicine, is not more 
 curious as coming from a medical man, than are the 
 attacks on women perpetrated by some Jewish poets 
 (Zabara among them), who themselves amply ex- 
 
 13 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 perienced, in their own and their community s life, 
 the tender and beautiful relations that subsist 
 between Jewish mother and son, Jewish wife and 
 husbanr 1 
 
 Th life of Joseph ben Me ir Zabara was not 
 happy. He left Barcelona in search of learning 
 and comfort. He found the former, but the latter 
 eluded him. It is hard to say from the " Book of 
 Delight " whether he was a woman-hater, or not. 
 On the one hand, he says many pretty things about 
 women. The moral of the first section of the 
 romance is: Put your trust in women; and the 
 moral of the second section of the poem is : A good 
 woman is the best part of man. But, though this 
 is so, Zabara does undoubtedly quote a large num 
 ber of stories full of point and sting, stories that 
 tell of women s wickedness and infidelity, of their 
 weakness of intellect and fickleness of will. His 
 philogynist tags hardly compensate for his misogy 
 nist satires. He runs with the hare, but hunts ener 
 getically with the hounds. 
 
 It is this characteristic of Zabara s method that 
 makes it open to doubt, whether the additional 
 stories referred to as printed with the Constanti 
 nople edition did really emanate from our author s 
 pen. These additions are sharply misogynist; the 
 
 14 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 poet does not even attempt to blunt their point. 
 They include " The Widow s Vow " (the widow, 
 protesting undying constancy to her first love, eag 
 erly weds another) and " Woman s Contentions." 
 In the latter, a wicked woman is denounced .v 1 ^ the 
 wildest invective. She has demoniac traits; her 
 touch is fatal. A condemned criminal is offered his 
 life if he will wed a wicked woman. " O King," 
 he cried, " slay me; for rather would I die once, 
 than suffer many deaths every day." Again, once 
 a wicked woman pursued a heroic man. He met 
 some devils. " What are you running from ? " 
 asked they. " From a wicked woman, "he answered. 
 The devils turned and ran away with him. 
 
 One rather longer story n^ .y be summarized 
 thus : Satan, disguised in hurr.an shape, met a fugi 
 tive husband, who had left his wicked wife. Satan 
 told him that he was in similar case, and proposed 
 a compact. Satan would enter into the bodies of 
 men, and the other, pretending to be a skilful phy 
 sician, would exorcise Satan. They would share 
 the profits. Satan begins on the king, and the 
 queen engages the confederate to cure the king 
 within three days, for a large fee, but in case of 
 failure the doctor is to die. Satan refuses to come 
 out : his real plan is to get the doctor killed in this 
 
 15 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 way. The doctor obtains a respite, and collects a 
 large body of musicians, who make a tremendous 
 din. Satan trembles. " What is that noise? " he 
 asks. " Your wife is coming," says the doctor. 
 Out sprang Satan and fled to the end of the earth. 
 These tales and quips, it is true, are directed 
 against " wicked " women, but if Zabara really 
 wrote them, it would be difficult to acquit him of 
 woman-hatred, unless the stories have been mis 
 placed, and should appear, as part of the " Book 
 of Delight," within the Leopard section, which 
 rounds off a series of unfriendly tales with a moral 
 friendly to woman. In general, Oriental satire 
 directed against women must not be taken too seri 
 ously. As Gudemann has shown, the very Jews 
 that wrote most bitterly of women were loud in 
 praise of their own wives the women whom alone 
 they knew intimately. Woman was the standing 
 butt for men to hurl their darts at, and one cannot 
 help feeling that a good deal of the fun got its 
 point from the knowledge that the charges were 
 exaggerated or untrue. You find the Jewish satir 
 ists exhausting all their stores of drollery on the 
 subject of rollicking drunkenness. They roar till 
 their sides creak over the humor of the wine-bibber. 
 They laugh at him and with him. They turn again 
 
 16 
 
THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 and again to the subject, which shares the empire 
 with women in the Jewish poets. Yet we know 
 well enough that the writers of these Hebrew 
 Anacreontic lyrics were sober men, who rarely in 
 dulged in overmuch strong drink. In short, the 
 medieval Jewish satirists were gifted with much of 
 what a little time ago was foolishly styled " the 
 new humor." Joseph Zabara was a " new " hu 
 morist. Fie has the quaint subtlety of the author 
 of the " Ingoldsby Legends," and revelled in the 
 exaggeration of trifles that is the stock-in-trade of 
 the modern funny man. Woman plays the part with 
 the former that the mother-in-law played a genera 
 tion ago with the latter. In Zabara, again, there is 
 a good deal of mere rudeness, which the author 
 seems to mistake for cutting repartee. This, I take 
 it, is another characteristic of the so-called new 
 humor. 
 
 The probable explanation of the marked diver 
 gence between Zabara s stories and the moral he 
 draws from them lies, however, a little deeper. 
 The stories themselves are probably Indian in ori 
 gin; hence they are marked by the tone hostile to 
 woman so characteristic of Indian folk-lore. On 
 the other hand, if Zabara himself was a friendly 
 critic of woman, his own moralizings in her favor 
 2 17 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 are explained. This theory is not entirely upset by 
 the presence even of the additional stories, for 
 these, too, are translations, and Zabara cannot be 
 held responsible for their contents. The selection 
 of good anecdotes was restricted in his day within 
 very narrow limits. 
 
 Yet Zabara s reading must have been extensive. 
 He knew something of astronomy, philosophy, the 
 science of physiognomy, music, mathematics, and 
 physics, and a good deal of medicine. He was 
 familiar with Arabian collections- of proverbs and 
 tales, for he informs his readers several times that 
 he is drawing on Arabic sources. He knew the 
 " Choice of Pearls," the Midrashic " Stories of 
 King Solomon," the " Maxims of the Philoso 
 phers," the " Proverbs of the Wise"; but not 
 " Sendabar " in its Hebrew form. His acquain 
 tance with the language of the Bible was thor 
 ough ; but he makes one or two blunders in quoting 
 the substance of Scriptural passages. Though he 
 disclaimed the title of a Talmudic scholar, he was 
 not ignorant of the Rabbinic literature. Everyone 
 quotes it: the fox, the woman, Enan, and the au 
 thor. He was sufficiently at home in this litera 
 ture to pun therein. He also knew the story of 
 Tobit, but, as he introduces it as " a most marvel- 
 
 18 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 lous tale," it is clear that this book of the Apoc 
 rypha was not widely current in his day. The 
 story, as Zabara tells it, differs considerably from 
 the Apocryphal version of it. The incidents are 
 misplaced, the story of the betrothal is disconnected 
 from that of the recovery of the money by Tobit, 
 and the detail of the gallows occurs in no other 
 known text of the story. In one point, Zabara s 
 version strikingly agrees with the Hebrew and 
 Chaldee texts of Tobit as against the Greek; 
 Tobit s son is not accompanied by a dog on his 
 journey to recover his father s long-lost treasure. 
 
 One of the tales told by Zabara seems to imply 
 a phenomenon of the existence of which there is no 
 other evidence. There seems to have been in Spain 
 a small class of Jews that were secret converts to 
 Christianity. They passed openly for Jews, but 
 were in truth Christians. The motive for the con 
 cealment is unexplained, and the whole passage may 
 be merely satirical. 
 
 It remains for me to describe the texts now ex 
 tant of the "Book of Delight." In 1865 the 
 " Book of Delight " appeared, from a fifteenth 
 century manuscript in Paris, in the second volume of 
 a Hebrew periodical called the Lebanon. In the 
 following year the late Senior Sachs wrote an intro- 
 
 19 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 duction to it and to two other publications, which 
 were afterwards issued together under the title Yen 
 Lebanon (Paris, 1866). The editor was aware of 
 the existence of another text, but, strange to tell, he 
 did not perceive the need of examining it. Had he 
 done this, his edition would have been greatly im 
 proved. For the Bodleian Library possesses a 
 copy of another edition of the " Book of Delight/ 
 undated, and without place of issue, but printed 
 in Constantinople, in 1577. One or two other 
 copies of this edition are extant elsewhere. The 
 editor was Isaac Akrish, as we gather from a mar 
 ginal note to the version of Tobit given by Joseph 
 Zabara. This Isaac Akrish was a travelling book 
 seller, who printed interesting little books, and 
 hawked them about. Dr. Steinschneider points out 
 that the date of Isaac Akrish s edition can be ap 
 proximately fixed by the type. The type is that of 
 the Jaabez Press, established in Constantinople and 
 Salonica in 1560. This Constantinople edition is 
 not only longer than the Paris edition, it is, on the 
 whole, more accurate. The verbal variations be 
 tween the two editions are extremely numerous, but 
 the greater accuracy of the Constantinople edition 
 shows itself in many ways. The rhymes are much 
 better preserved, though the Paris edition is occa- 
 
 20 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 sionally superior in this respect. But many pas 
 sages that are quite unintelligible in the Paris edi 
 tion are clear enough in the Constantinople edition. 
 
 The gigantic visitor of Joseph, the narrator, the 
 latter undoubtedly the author himself, is a strange 
 being. Like the guide of Gil Bias on his adventures, 
 he is called a demon, and he glares and emits smoke 
 and fire. But he proves amenable to argument, and 
 quotes the story of the washerwoman, to show how 
 it was that he became a reformed character. This 
 devil quotes the Rabbis, and is easily convinced that 
 it is unwise for him to wed an ignorant bride. It 
 would seem as though Zabara were, on the one 
 hand, hurling a covert attack against some one who 
 had advised him to leave Barcelona to his own 
 hurt, while, on the other hand, he is satirizing the 
 current beliefs of Jews and Christians in evil spirits. 
 More than one passage is decidedly anti-Christian, 
 and it would not be surprising to find that the frame 
 work of the romance had been adopted with polemic 
 intention. 
 
 The character of the framework becomes more 
 interesting when it is realized that Zabara derived 
 it from some version of the legends of which King 
 Solomon is the hero. The king had various adven 
 tures with a being more or less demoniac in charac- 
 
 21 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 ter, who bears several names: Asmodeus, Saturn, 
 Marcolf, or Morolf. That the model for Zabara s 
 visitor was Solomon s interlocutor, is not open to 
 doubt. The Solomon legend occurs in many forms, 
 but in all Marcolf (or whatever other name he 
 bears) is a keen contester with the king in a battle 
 of wits. No doubt, at first Marcolf filled a serious, 
 respectable role ; in course of time, his character de 
 generated into that of a clown or buffoon. It is 
 difficult to summarize the legend, it varies so con 
 siderably in the versions. Marcolf in the best- 
 known forms, which are certainly older than Za- 
 bara, is " right rude and great of body, of visage 
 greatly misshapen and foul." Sometimes he is a 
 dwarf, sometimes a giant; he is never normal. He 
 appears with his counterpart, a sluttish wife, before 
 Solomon, who, recognizing him as famous for his 
 wit and wisdom, challenges him to a trial of wis 
 dom, promising great rewards as the prize of vic 
 tory. The two exchange a series of questions and 
 answers, which may be compared in spirit, though 
 not in actual content, with the questions and an 
 swers to be found in Zabara. Marcolf succeeds in 
 thoroughly tiring out the king, and though the 
 courtiers are for driving Marcolf off with scant 
 courtesy, the king interposes, fulfils his promise, 
 
 22 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 and dismisses his adversary with gifts. Marcolf 
 leaves the court, according to one version, with the 
 noble remark, Ubi non est lex, ibi non est rex. 
 
 This does not exhaust the story, however. In 
 another part of the legend, to which, again, Za- 
 bara offers parallels, Solomon, being out hunting, 
 comes suddenly on Marcolf s hut, and, calling 
 upon him, receives a number of riddling answers, 
 which completely foil him, and for the solution of 
 which he is compelled to have recourse to the pro 
 poser. He departs, however, in good humor, de 
 siring Marcolf to come to court the next day and 
 bring a pail of fresh milk and curds from the cow. 
 Marcolf fails, and the king condemns him to sit up 
 all night in his company, threatening him with 
 death in the morning, should he fall asleep. This, 
 of course, Marcolf does immediately, and he snores 
 aloud. Solomon asks, " Sleepest thou?" And 
 Marcolf replies, " No, I think."" What thinkest 
 thou? " u That there are as many vertebrae in the 
 hare s tail as in his backbone." The king, assured 
 that he has now entrapped his adversary, replies: 
 " If thou provest not this, thou diest in the morn 
 ing! " Over and over again Marcolf snores, and 
 is awakened by Solomon, but he is always think 
 ing. He gives various answers during the night: 
 
 23 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 There are as many white feathers as black in the 
 magpie. There is nothing whiter than daylight, 
 daylight is whiter than milk. Nothing can be 
 safely entrusted to a woman. Nature is stronger 
 than education. 
 
 Next day Marcolf proves all his statements. 
 Thus, he places a pan of milk in a dark closet, and 
 suddenly calls the king. Solomon steps into the 
 milk, splashes himself, and nearly falls. " Son of 
 perdition! what does this mean? " roars the mon 
 arch. " May it please Your Majesty," says Mar 
 colf, " merely to show you that milk is not whiter 
 than daylight." That nature is stronger than edu 
 cation, Marcolf proves by throwing three mice, 
 one after the other, before a cat trained to hold a 
 lighted candle in its paws during the king s sup 
 per; the cat drops the taper, and chases the mice. 
 Marcolf further enters into a bitter abuse of 
 womankind, and ends by inducing Solomon him 
 self to join in the diatribe. When the king per 
 ceives the trick, he turns Marcolf out of court, and 
 eventually orders him to be hanged. One favor is 
 granted to him : he may select his own tree. Mar 
 colf and his guards traverse the valley of Jehosha- 
 phat, pass to Jericho over Jordan, through Arabia 
 and the Red Sea, but u never more could Marcolf 
 
 24 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 find a tree that he would choose to hang on." By 
 this device, Marcolf escapes from Solomon s hands, 
 returns home, and passes the rest of his days in 
 peace. 
 
 The legend, no doubt Oriental in origin, enjoyed 
 popularity in the Middle Ages largely because it 
 became the frame into which could be placed col 
 lections of proverbial lore. Hence, as happened 
 also with the legend of the Queen of Sheba and her 
 riddles, the versions vary considerably as to the 
 actual content of the questions and answers ban 
 died between Solomon and Marcolf. In the Ger 
 man and English versions, the proverbs and 
 wisdom are largely Teutonic; in Zabara they are 
 Oriental, and, in particular, Arabic. Again, Mar 
 colf in the French version of Mauclerc is much 
 more completely the reviler of woman. Mauclerc 
 wrote almost contemporaneously with Zabara 
 (about 1216-1220, according to Kemble). But, 
 on the other hand, Mauclerc has no story, and his 
 Marcolf is a punning clown rather than a cunning 
 sage. Marcolf, who is Solomon s brother in a 
 German version, has no trust in a woman even 
 when dead. So, in another version, Marcolf is at 
 once supernaturally cunning, and extremely skepti 
 cal as to the morality and constancy of woman. But 
 
 25 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 it is unnecessary to enter into the problem more 
 closely. Suffice it to have established that in Za 
 bara s " Book of Delight " we have a hitherto un 
 suspected adaptation of the Solomon-Marcolf 
 legend. Zabara handles the legend with rare origi 
 nality, and even ventures to cast himself for the 
 title role in place of the wisest of kings. 
 
 In the summary of the book which follows, the 
 rhymed prose of the original Hebrew is reproduced 
 only in one case. This form of poetry is unsuited 
 to the English language. What may have a strik 
 ingly pleasing effect in Oriental speech, becomes, 
 in English, indistinguishable from doggerel. I 
 have not translated at full length, but I have endeav 
 ored to render Zabara accurately, without intro 
 ducing thoughts foreign to him. 
 
 I have not thought it necessary to give elaborate 
 parallels to Zabara s stories, nor to compare mi 
 nutely the various details of the Marcolf legend 
 with Zabara s poem. On the whole, it may be said 
 that the parallel is general rather than specific. I 
 am greatly mistaken, however, if the collection of 
 stories that follows does not prove of considerable 
 interest to those engaged in the tracking of fables 
 to their native lairs. Here, in Zabara, we have an 
 earlier instance than was previously known in Eu- 
 
 26 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 rope, of an intertwined series of fables and witti 
 cisms, partly Indian, partly Greek, partly Semitic, in 
 origin, welded together by the Hebrew poet by 
 means of a framework. The use of the framework 
 by a writer in Europe in the year 1 200 is itself note 
 worthy. And when it is remembered what the 
 framework is, it becomes obvious that the " Book of 
 Delight " occupies a unique position in medieval 
 literature. 
 
 THE GIANT GUEST 
 
 Once on a night, I, Joseph, lay upon my bed; sleep was sweet 
 upon me, my one return for all my toil. Things there are which 
 weary the soul and rest the body, others that weary the body 
 and rest the soul, but sleep brings calm to the body and the 
 soul at once. . . . While I slept, I dreamt; and a gigantic but 
 manlike figure appeared before me, rousing me from my slumber. 
 "Arise, thou sleeper, rouse thyself and see the wine while it is 
 red; come, sit thee down and eat of what I provide." It was 
 dawn when I hastily rose, and I saw before me wine, bread, and 
 viands; and in the man s hand was a lighted lamp, which cast 
 a glare into every corner. I said, " What are these, my master? " 
 " My wine, my bread, my viands ; come, eat and drink with me, 
 for I love thee as one of my mother s sons." And I thanked him, 
 but protested: "I cannot eat or drink till I have prayed to the 
 Orderer of all my ways ; for Moses, the choice of the prophets, 
 and the head of those called, hath ordained, Eat not with the 
 blood ; therefore no son of Israel will eat until he prays for his 
 
 soul, for the blood is the soul " 
 
 27 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 Then said he, " Pray, if such be thy wish " ; and I bathed my 
 hands and face, and prayed. Then I ate of all that was before 
 
 me, for my soul loved him Wine I would not drink, 
 
 though he pressed me sore. " Wine," I said, " blindeth the eyes, 
 robbeth the old of wisdom and the body of strength, it revealeth 
 the secrets of friends, and raiseth dissension between brothers." 
 The man s anger was roused. "Why blasphemest thou against 
 wine, and bearest false witness against it? Wine bringeth joy; 
 sorrow and sighing fly before it. It strengthened the body, 
 maketh the heart generous, prolongeth pleasure, and deferreth 
 age; faces it maketh shine, and the senses it maketh bright." 
 
 " Agreed, but let thy servant take the water first, as the ancient 
 physicians advise; later I will take the wine, a little, without 
 water." 
 
 When I had eaten and drunk with him, I asked for his name 
 and his purpose. " I come," said he, " from a distant land, from 
 pleasant and fruitful hills, my wisdom is as thine, my laws as 
 thine, my name Enan Hanatash, the son of Arnan ha-Desh." I 
 was amazed at the name, unlike any I had ever heard. " Come 
 with me from this land, and I will tell thee all my secret lore; 
 leave this spot, for they know not here thy worth and thy wis 
 dom. I will take thee to another place, pleasant as a garden, 
 peopled by loving men, wise above all others." But I answered: 
 "My lord, I cannot go. Here are many wise and friendly; 
 while I live, they bear me on the wing of their love; when I 
 
 die, they will make my death sweet I fear thee for thy 
 
 long limbs, and in thy face I see, clear-cut, the marks of un- 
 worthiness; I fear thee, and I will not be thy companion, lest 
 there befall me what befell the leopard with the fox." And I 
 told him the story. 
 
 28 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 In this manner, illustrative tales are introduced 
 throughout the poem. Zabara displays rare inge 
 nuity in fitting the illustrations into his framework. 
 He proceeds : 
 
 THE FOX AND THE LEOPARD 
 
 A leopard once lived in content and plenty; ever he found 
 easy sustenance for his wife and children. Hard by there dwelt 
 his neighbor and friend, the fox. The fox felt in his heart that 
 his life was safe only so long as the leopard could catch other 
 prey, and he planned out a method for ridding himself of this 
 dangerous friendship. Before the evil cometh, say the wise, 
 counsel is good. " Let me move him hence," thought the fox ; 
 " I will lead him to the paths of death ; for the sages say, If 
 one come to slay thee, be beforehand with him, and slay him 
 instead. " Next day the fox went to the leopard, and told him 
 of a spot he had seen, a spot of gardens and lilies, where fawns 
 and does disported themselves, and everything was fair. The 
 leopard went with him to behold this paradise, and rejoiced 
 with exceeding joy. " Ah," thought the fox, " many a smile ends 
 in a tear." But the leopard was charmed, and wished to move 
 to this delightful abode ; " but, first," said he, " I will go to 
 consult my wife, my lifelong comrade, the bride of my youth." 
 The fox was sadly disconcerted. Full well he knew the wisdom 
 and the craft of the leopard s wife. " Nay," said he, " trust not 
 thy wife. A woman s counsel is evil and foolish, her heart hard 
 like marble; she is a plague in a house. Yes, ask her advice, 
 and do the opposite." .... The leopard told his wife that he 
 was resolved to go. " Beware of the fox," she exclaimed ; " two 
 small animals there are, the craftiest they, by far the serpent 
 
 29 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 and the fox. Hast thou not heard how the fox bound the lion 
 and slew him with cunning?" "How did the fox dare," asked 
 the leopard, " to come near enough to the lion to do it? " 
 
 The wife than takes up the parable, and cites the 
 incident of 
 
 THE FOX AND THE LION 
 
 Then said the leopard s wife: The lion loved the fox, but 
 the fox had no faith in him, and plotted his death. One day 
 the fox went to the lion whining that a pain had seized him in 
 the head. " I have heard," said the fox, " that physicians pre 
 scribe for a headache, that the patient shall be tied up hand and 
 foot." The lion assented, and bound up the fox with a cord. 
 " Ah," blithely said the fox, " my pain is gone." Then the 
 lion loosed him. Time passed, and the lion s turn came to suffer 
 in his head. In sore distress he went to the fox, fast as a 
 bird to the snare, and exclaimed, " Bind me up, brother, that 
 I, too, may be healed, as happened with thee." The fox took 
 fresh withes, and bound the lion up. Then he went to fetch 
 great stones, which he cast on the lion s head, and thus crushed 
 him. " Therefore, my dear leopard," concluded his wife, " trust 
 not the fox, for I fear him and his wiles. If the place he tells 
 of be so fair, why does not the fox take it for himself?" " Nay," 
 said the leopard, " thou art a silly prattler. I have often proved 
 my friend, and there is no dross in the silver of his love." 
 
 The leopard would not hearken to his wife s ad 
 vice, yet he was somewhat moved by her warning, 
 and he told the fox of his misgiving, adding, that 
 his wife refused to accompany him. " Ah," re- 
 
 30 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 plied the fox, " I fear your fate will be like the 
 silversmith s ; let me tell you his story, and you will 
 know how silly it is to listen to a wife s counsel." 
 
 THE SILVERSMITH WHO FOLLOWED HIS WIFE S 
 COUNSEL 
 
 A silversmith of Babylon, skilful in his craft, was one day 
 at work. " Listen to me," said his wife, " and I will make thee 
 rich and honored. Our lord, the king, has an only daughter, 
 and he loves her as his life. Fashion for her a silver image of 
 herself, and I will bear it to her as a gift." The statue was 
 soon made, and the princess rejoiced at seeing it. She gave a 
 cloak and earrings to the artist s wife, and she showed them to 
 her husband in triumph. " But where is the wealth and the 
 honor?" he asked. "The statue was worth much more than 
 thou hast brought." Next day the king saw the statue in his 
 daughter s hand, and his anger was kindled. " Is it not ordered," 
 he cried, "that none should make an image? Cut off his right 
 hand." The king s command was carried out, and daily the 
 smith wept, and exclaimed, " Take warning from me, ye hus 
 bands, and obey not the voice of your wives." 
 
 The leopard shuddered when he heard this tale; 
 but the fox went on : 
 
 THE WOODCUTTER AND THE WOMAN 
 
 A hewer of wood in Damascus was cutting logs, and his 
 
 wife sat spinning by his side. " My departed father," she 
 
 said, " was a better workman than thou. He could chop with 
 
 both hands: when the right hand was tired, he used the left." 
 
 31 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 " Nay," said he, " no woodcutter does that, he uses his right 
 hand, unless he be a left-handed man." " Ah, my dear," she 
 entreated, " try and do it as my father did." The witless wight 
 raised his left hand to hew the wood, but struck his right-hand 
 thumb instead. Without a word he took the axe and smote 
 her on the head, and she died. His deed was noised about; the 
 woodcutter was seized and stoned for his crime. Therefore, 
 continued the fox, I say unto thee, all women are deceivers 
 and trappers of souls. And let me tell you more of these wily 
 stratagems. 
 
 The fox reinforces his argument by relating an 
 episode in which a contrast is drawn between 
 
 MAN S LOVE AND WOMAN S 
 
 A king of the Arabs, wise and well-advised, was one day 
 seated with his counsellors, who were loud in the praise of 
 women, lauding their virtues and their wisdom. " Cut short 
 these words," said the king. " Never since the world began has 
 there been a good woman. They love for their own ends." 
 " But," pleaded his sages, " O King, thou art hasty. Women there 
 are, wise and faithful and spotless, who love their husbands and 
 tend their children." "Then," said the king, "here is my city 
 before you: search it through, and find one of the good women 
 of whom you speak." They sought, and they found a woman, 
 chaste and wise, fair as the moon and bright as the sun, the 
 wife of a wealthy trader; and the counsellors reported about her 
 to the king. He sent for her husband, and received him with 
 favor. " I have something for thy ear," said the king. " I have 
 a good and desirable daughter: she is my only child; I will 
 not give her to a king or a prince: let me find a simple, faithful 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 man, who will love her and hold her in esteem. Thou art such 
 a one ; thou shalt have her. But thou art married : slay thy 
 wife to-night, and to-morrow thou shalt wed my daughter." 
 " I am unworthy," pleaded the man, " to be the shepherd of thy 
 flock, much less the husband of thy daughter." But the king 
 would take no denial. "But how shall I kill my wife? For 
 fifteen years she has eaten of my bread and drunk of my cup. 
 She is the joy of my heart; her love and esteem grow day by 
 day." " Slay her," said the king, " and be king hereafter." He 
 went forth from the presence, downcast and sad, thinking over, 
 and a little shaken by, the king s temptation. At home he saw 
 his wife and his two babes. " Better," he cried, " is my wife 
 than a kingdom. Cursed be all kings who tempt men to sip 
 sorrow, calling it joy." The king waited his coming in vain ; 
 and then he sent messengers to the man s shop. When he found 
 that the man s love had conquered his lust, he said, with a sneer, 
 "Thou art no man: thy heart is a woman s." 
 
 In the evening the king summoned the woman secretly. She 
 came, and the king praised her beauty and her wisdom. His 
 heart, he said, was burning with love for her, but he could not 
 wed another man s wife. " Slay thy husband to-night, and to 
 morrow be my queen." With a smile, the woman consented ; 
 and the king gave her a sword made of tin, for he knew the 
 weak mind of woman. " Strike once," he said to her ; " the 
 sword is sharp; you need not essay a second blow." She gave 
 her husband a choice repast, and wine to make him drunken. As 
 he lay asleep, she grasped the sword and struck him on the 
 head; and the tin bent, and he awoke. With some ado she 
 quieted him, and he fell asleep again. Next morning the king 
 summoned her, and asked whether she had obeyed his orders. 
 3 33 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 " Yes," said she, " but thou didst frustrate thine own counsel." 
 Then the king assembled his sages, and bade her tell all that 
 she had attempted; and the husband, too, was fetched, to tell 
 his story. " Did I not tell you to cease your praises of women? " 
 asked the king, triumphantly. 
 
 IN DISPRAISE OF WOMAN 
 
 The fox follows up these effective narratives 
 with a lengthy string of well-worn quotations 
 against women, of which the following are a few: 
 Socrates, the wise and saintly, hated and despised 
 them. His wife was thin and short. They asked 
 him, " How could a man like you choose such a 
 woman for your wife ? " "I chose," said Socrates, 
 " of the evil the least possible amount." " Why, 
 then, do you look on beautiful women? " " Nei 
 ther," said Socrates, " from love nor from desire, 
 but to admire the handiwork of God in their out 
 ward form. It is within that they are foul." Once 
 he was walking by the way, and he saw a woman 
 hanging from a fig-tree. " Would," said Socrates, 
 " that all the fruit were like this." A nobleman 
 built a new house, and wrote over the door, " Let 
 nothing evil pass this way." " Then how does his 
 wife go in?" asked Diogenes. "Your enemy is 
 dead," said one to another. " I would rather hear 
 that he had got married," was the reply. 
 
 34 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 " So much," said the fox to the leopard, " I 
 have told thee that thou mayest know how little 
 women are to be trusted. They deceive men in 
 life, and betray them in death." " But," queried 
 the leopard, " what could my wife do to harm me 
 after I am dead? " " Listen," rejoined the fox, 
 " and I will tell thee of a deed viler than any I 
 have narrated hitherto." 
 
 THE WIDOW AND HER HUSBAND S CORPSE 
 The kings of Rome, when they hanged a man, denied him 
 burial until the tenth day. That the friends and relatives of the 
 victim might not steal the body, an officer of high rank was set 
 to watch the tree by night. If the body was stolen, the officer 
 was hung up in its place. A knight of high degree once rebelled 
 against the king, and he was hanged on a tree. The officer on 
 guard was startled at midnight to hear a piercing shriek of 
 anguish from a little distance; he mounted his horse, and rode 
 towards the voice, to discover the meaning. He came to an 
 open grave, where the common people were buried, and saw a 
 weeping woman loud in laments for her departed spouse. He 
 sent her home with words of comfort, accompanying her to the 
 city gate. He then returned to his post. Next night the same 
 scene was repeated, and as the officer spoke his gentle soothings 
 to her, a love for him was born in her heart, and her dead 
 husband was forgotten. And as they spoke words of love, they 
 neared the tree, and lo ! the body that the officer was set to 
 watch was gone. " Begone," he said, " and I will fly, or my life 
 must pay the penalty of my dalliance." "Fear not, my lord," 
 
 85 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 she said, " we can raise my husband from his grave and hang 
 him instead of the stolen corpse." " But I fear the Prince of 
 Death. I cannot drag a man from his grave." " I alone will 
 do it then," said the woman; "I will dig him out; it is lawful 
 to cast a dead man from the grave, to keep a live man from 
 being thrown in." " Alas ! " cried t-he officer, when she had 
 done the fearsome deed, " the corpse I watched was bald, your 
 husband has thick hair; the change will be detected." "Nay," 
 said the woman, " I will make him bald," and she tore his hair 
 out, with execrations, and they hung him on the tree. But a 
 few days passed and the pair were married. 
 
 And now the leopard interlude nears it close. 
 Zabara narrates the denouement in these terms: 
 
 THE LEOPARD S FATE 
 
 The leopard s bones rattled while he listened to this tale. 
 Angrily he addressed his wife, " Come, get up and follow me, 
 or I will slay thee." Together they went with their young ones, 
 and the fox was their guide, and they reached the promised place, 
 and encamped by the waters. The fox bade them farewell, his 
 head laughing at his tail. Seven days were gone, when the 
 rains descended, and in the deep of the night the river rose 
 and engulfed the leopard family in their beds. "Woe is me," 
 sighed the leopard, " that I did not listen to my wife." And 
 he died before his time. 
 
 THE JOURNEY BEGUN BY JOSEPH AND ENAN 
 
 The author has now finished his protest against 
 his visitor s design, to make him join him on a rov- 
 
 36 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 ing expedition. Enan glares, and asks, " Am I a 
 fox, and thou a leopard, that I should fear thee? " 
 Then his note changes, and his tone becomes coax 
 ing and bland. Joseph cannot resist his fascina 
 tion. Together they start, riding on their asses. 
 Then says Enan unto Joseph, " Carry thou me, or 
 I will carry thee." " But," continues the narra 
 tor, Joseph, " we were both riding on our asses. 
 * What dost thou mean? Our asses carry us 
 both. Explain thy words. It is the story of 
 the peasant with the king s officer. 
 
 THE CLEVER GIRL AND THE KING S DREAM 
 
 A king with many wives dreamt that he saw a monkey among 
 them; his face fell, and his spirit was troubled. "This is none 
 other," said he, "than a foreign king, who will invade my 
 realm, and take my harem for his spoil." One of his officers 
 told the king of a clever interpreter of dreams, and the king 
 despatched him to find out the meaning of his ominous vision. 
 He set forth on his mule, and met a countryman riding. " Carry 
 me," said the officer, " or I will carry thee." The peasant was 
 amazed. " But our asses carry us both," he said. " Thou tiller 
 of the earth," said the officer, " thou art earth, and eatest earth. 
 There is snow on the hill," continued the officer, and as the month 
 was Tammuz, the peasant laughed. They passed a road with 
 wheat growing on each side. "A horse blind in one eye has 
 passed here," said the officer, " loaded with oil on one side, and 
 with vinegar on the other." They saw a field richly covered 
 
 37 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 with abounding corn, and the peasant praised it. " Yes," said 
 the officer, " if the corn is not already eaten." They went on 
 a little further and saw a lofty tower. " Well fortified," re 
 marked the peasant. " Fortified without, if not ruined within," 
 replied the officer. A funeral passed them. " As to this old 
 man whom they are burying," said the officer, " I cannot tell 
 whether he is alive or dead." And the peasant thought his 
 companion mad to make such unintelligible remarks. They 
 neared a village where the peasant lived, and he invited the 
 officer to stay with him overnight. 
 
 The peasant, in the dead of the night, told his wife and daugh 
 ters of the foolish things the officer had said, though he looked 
 quite wise. " Nay," said the peasant s youngest daughter, a 
 maiden of fifteen years, "the man is no fool; thou didst not 
 comprehend the depth of his meaning. The tiller of the earth 
 eats food grown from the earth. By the snow on the hill is 
 meant thy white beard (on thy head) ; thou shouldst have 
 answered, Time caused it. The horse blind in one eye he 
 knew had -passed, because he saw that the wheat was eaten on 
 one side of the way, and not on the other; and as for its burden, 
 he saw that the vinegar had parched the dust, while the oil had 
 not. His saying, Carry me, or I will carry thee, signifies that 
 he who beguiles the way with stories and proverbs and riddles, 
 carries his companion, relieving him from the tedium of the 
 journey. The corn of the field you passed," continued the girl, 
 " was already eaten if the owner was poor, and had sold it before 
 it was reaped. The lofty and stately tower was in ruins within, 
 if it was without necessary stores. About the funeral, too, his 
 remark was true. If the old man left a son, he was still alive; 
 if he was childless, he was, indeed, dead." 
 
 38 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 In the morning, the girl asked her father to give the officer 
 the food she would prepare. She gave him thirty eggs, a dish 
 full of milk, and a whole loaf. " Tell me," said she, " how 
 many days old the month is; is the moon new, and the sun at 
 its zenith?" Her father ate two eggs, a little of the loaf, and 
 sipped some of the milk, and gave the rest to the officer. " Tell 
 thy daughter," he said, " the sun is not full, neither is the moon, 
 for the month is two days old." " Ah," laughed the peasant, as 
 he told his daughter the answers of the officer, " ah, my girl, 
 I told you he was a fool, for we are now in the middle of 
 the month." " Did you eat anything of what I gave you ? " 
 asked the girl of her father. And he told her of the two eggs, 
 the morsel of bread, and the sip of milk that he had taken. 
 " Now I know," said the girl, " of a surety that the man is very 
 wise." And the officer, too, felt that she was wise, and so he 
 told her the king s dream. She went back with him to the king, 
 for she told the officer that she could interpret the vision, but 
 would do so only to the king in person, not through a deputy. 
 " Search thy harem," said the girl, " and thou wilt find among 
 thy women a man disguised in female garb." He searched, and 
 found that her words were true. The man was slain, and the 
 women, too, and the peasant s daughter became the king s sole 
 queen, for he never took another wife besides her. 
 
 THE NIGHT S REST 
 
 Thus Joseph and the giant Enan journey on, and 
 they stay overnight in a village inn. Then com 
 mences a series of semi-medical wrangles, which 
 fill up a large portion of the book. Joseph de- 
 
 39 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 mands food and wine, and Enan gives him a little 
 of the former and none of the latter. " Be still," 
 says Enan, " too much food is injurious to a trav 
 eller weary from the way. But you cannot be so 
 very hungry, or you would fall to on the dry bread. 
 But wine with its exciting qualities is bad for one 
 heated by a long day s ride." Even their asses are 
 starved, and Joseph remarks sarcastically, " To 
 morrow it will be, indeed, a case of carry-thou-me- 
 or-I-thee, for our asses will not be able to bear us." 
 They sleep on the ground, without couch or cover. 
 At dawn Enan rouses him, and when he sees that 
 his ass is still alive, he exclaims, " Man and beast 
 thou savest, O Lord ! " The ass, by the way, is a 
 lineal descendant of Balaam s animal. 
 
 They proceed, and the asses nod and bow as 
 though they knew how to pray. Enan weeps as 
 they near a town. " Here," says he, " my dear 
 friend died, a man of wisdom and judgment. I 
 will tell thee a little of his cleverness." 
 
 THE DISHONEST SINGER AND THE WEDDING ROBES 
 A man once came to him crying in distress. His only daughter 
 was betrothed to a youth, and the bridegroom and his father 
 came to the bride s house on the eve of the wedding, to view 
 her ornaments and beautiful clothes. When the bride s parents 
 rose next day, everything had vanished, jewels and trousseau 
 
 40 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 together. They were in despair, for they had lavished all their 
 possessions on their daughter. My friend [continued Enan] went 
 back with the man to examine the scene of the robbery. The 
 walls of the house were too high to scale. He found but one 
 place where entry was possible, a crevice in a wall in which 
 an orange tree grew, and its edge was covered with thorns and 
 prickles. Next door lived a musician, Paltiel ben Agan [or Adan] 
 by name, and my late friend, the judge, interviewed him, and 
 made him strip. His body was covered with cuts and scratches; 
 his guilt was discovered, and the dowry returned to the last shoe- 
 latchet. " My son," said he, " beware of singers, for they are 
 mostly thieves; trust no word of theirs, for they are liars; they 
 dally with women, and long after other people s money. They 
 fancy they are clever, but they know not their left hand from 
 their right; they raise their hands all day and call, but know 
 not to whom. A singer stands at his post, raised above all other 
 men, and he thinks he is as lofty as his place. He constantly 
 emits sounds, which mount to his brain, and dry it up ; hence 
 he is so witless." 
 
 Then Enan tells Joseph another story of his 
 friend the judge s sagacity: 
 
 THE NOBLEMAN AND THE NECKLACE 
 
 A man lived in Cordova, Jacob by name, the broker ; he was 
 a man of tried honesty. Once a jewelled necklet was entrusted 
 to him for sale by the judge, the owner demanding five hundred 
 pieces of gold as its price. Jacob had the chain in his hand 
 when he met a nobleman, one of the king s intimate friends. The 
 nobleman offered four hundred pieces for the necklet, which 
 Jacob refused. " Come with me to my house, and I will consider 
 
 41 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 the price," said the would-be purchaser. The Jew accompanied 
 him home, and the nobleman went within. Jacob waited outside 
 the gate till the evening, but no one came out. He passed a 
 sleepless night with his wife and children, and next morning 
 returned to the nobleman. " Buy the necklace," said he, " or 
 return it." The nobleman denied all knowledge of the jewels, 
 so Jacob went to the judge. He sent for the nobles, to address 
 them as was his wont, and as soon as they had arrived, he 
 said to the thief s servant, " Take your master s shoe and go to 
 his wife. Show the shoe and say, Your lord bids me ask you 
 for the necklace he bought yesterday, as he wishes to exhibit 
 its beauty to his friends." The wife gave the servant the orna 
 ment, the theft was made manifest, and it was restored to its 
 rightful owner. 
 
 And Enan goes on : 
 
 THE SON AND THE SLAVE 
 
 A merchant of measureless wealth had an only son, who, when 
 he grew up, said, " Father, send me on a voyage, that I may 
 trade and see foreign lands, and talk with men of wisdom, to 
 learn from their words." The father purchased a ship, and 
 sent him on a voyage, with much wealth and many friends. The 
 father was left at home with his slave, in whom he put his 
 trust, and who filled his son s place in position and affection. 
 Suddenly a pain seized him in the heart, and he died without 
 directing how his property was to be divided. The slave took 
 possession of everything; no one in the town knew whether he 
 was the man s slave or his son. Ten years passed, and the real 
 son returned, with his ship laden with wealth. As they ap 
 proached the harbor, the ship was wrecked. They had cast 
 
 42 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 everything overboard, in a vain effort to save it; finally, the crew 
 and the passengers were all thrown into the sea. The son reached 
 the shore destitute, and returned to his father s house; but the 
 slave drove him away, denying his identity. They went before 
 the judge. " Find the loathly merchant s grave," he said to the 
 slave, " and bring me the dead man s bones. I shall burn them 
 for his neglect to leave a will, thus rousing strife as to his prop 
 erty." The slave started to obey, but the son stayed him. " Keep 
 all," said he, "but disturb not my father s bones." "Thou art 
 the son," said the judge; "take this other as thy lifelong slave." 
 
 Joseph and Enan pass to the city of Tobiah. At 
 the gate they are accosted by an old and venerable 
 man, to whom they explain that they have been on 
 the way for seven days. He invites them to his 
 home, treats them hospitably, and after supper tells 
 them sweet and pleasant tales, " among his words 
 an incident wonderful to the highest degree." 
 This wonderful story is none other than a distorted 
 version of the Book of Tobit. I have translated 
 this in full, and in rhymed prose, as a specimen of 
 the original. 
 
 THE STORY OF TOBIT 
 
 Here, in the days of the saints of old, in the concourse of elders 
 of age untold, there lived a man upright and true, in all his 
 doings good fortune he knew. Rich was he and great, his eyes 
 looked ever straight: Tobiah, the son of Ahiah, a man of Dan, 
 helped the poor, to each gave of his store ; whene er one friendless 
 
 43 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 died, the shroud he supplied, bore the corpse to the grave, nor 
 thought his money to save. The men of the place, a sin-ruled 
 race, slandering, cried, " O King, these Jewish knaves open our 
 graves ! Our bones they burn, into charms to turn, health to earn." 
 The king angrily spoke: "I will weighten their yoke, and their 
 villainy repay; all the Jews who, from to-day, die in this town, 
 to the pit take down, to the pit hurry all, without burial. Who 
 buries a Jew, the hour shall rue ; bitter his pang, on the gallows 
 shall he hang." Soon a sojourner did die, and no friends were 
 by; but good Tobiah the corpse did lave, and dress it for the 
 grave. Some sinners saw the deed, to the judge the word they 
 gave, who Tobiah s death decreed. Forth the saint they draw, 
 to hang him as by law. But now they near the tree, lo! no 
 man can see, a blindness falls on all, and Tobiah flies their 
 thrall. Many friends his loss do weep, but homewards he doth 
 creep, God s mercies to narrate, and his own surprising fate, 
 " Praise ye the Lord, dear friends, for His mercy never ends, 
 and to His servants good intends." Fear the king distressed, 
 his heart beat at his breast, new decrees his fear expressed. 
 " Whoe er a Jew shall harm," the king cried in alarm, " touching 
 his person or personalty, touches the apple of my eye; let no man 
 do this wrong, or I ll hang him mid the throng, high though 
 his rank, and his lineage long." And well he kept his word, 
 he punished those who erred; but on the Jews his mercies shone, 
 the while he filled the throne. 
 
 Once lay the saint at rest, and glanced upon the nest of a 
 bird within his room. Ah ! cruel was his doom ! Into his eye 
 there went the sparrow s excrement. Tobiah s sight was gone ! 
 He had an only son, whom thus he now addressed: "When busi 
 ness ventures pressed, I passed from clime to clime. Well I 
 
 44 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 recall the time, when long I dwelt in Ind, of wealth full stores 
 to find. But perilous was the road, and entrusted I my load 
 with one of honest fame, Peer Hazeman his name. And now 
 list, beloved son, go out and hire thee one, thy steps forthwith 
 to guide unto my old friend s side. I know his love s full 
 stream, his trust he will redeem ; when heareth he my plight, 
 when seeth he thy sight, then will he do the right." The youth 
 found whom he sought, a man by travel taught, the ways of 
 Ind he knew ; he knew them through and through, he knew them 
 up and down, as a townsman knows his town. He brought him 
 to his sire, who straightway did inquire, " Knowest thou an 
 Indian spot, a city named Tobot?" "Full well I know the 
 place, I spent a two years space in various enterprise ; its people 
 all are wise, and honest men and true." " What must I give 
 to you," asked Tobiah of his guest, " to take my son in quest? " 
 " Of pieces pure of gold, full fifty must be told." " I ll pay you 
 that with joy; start forth now with my boy." A script the son 
 did write, which Tobiah did indite, and on his son bestow a 
 sign his friend would know. The father kissed his son, " In 
 peace," said he, " get gone ; may God my life maintain till thou 
 art come again." The youth and guide to Tobot hied, and 
 reached anon Peer Hazeman. "Why askest thou my name?" 
 Straight the answer came, "Tobiah is my sire, and he doth 
 inquire of thy health and thy household s." Then the letter 
 he unfolds. The contents Peer espies, every doubt flies, he re 
 gards the token with no word spoken. " Tis the son of my 
 friend, who greeting thus doth send. Is it well with him? 
 Say." "Well, well with him alway." "Then dwell thou here 
 a while, and hours sweet beguile with the tales which thou wilt 
 tell of him I loved so well."" Nay, I must forthwith part to 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 soothe my father s heart. I am his only trust, return at once I 
 must." Peer Hazeman agrees the lad to release; gives him all 
 his father s loan, and gifts adds of his own, raiment and two 
 slaves. To music s pleasant staves, the son doth homeward 
 wend. By the shore of the sea went the lad full of glee, and the 
 wind blew a blast, and a fish was upward cast. Then hastened 
 the guide to ope the fish s side, took the liver and the gall, for 
 cure of evil s thrall : liver to give demons flight, gall to restore 
 men s sight. The youth begged his friend these specifics to lend, 
 then went he on his way to where his sick sire lay. Then spake 
 the youth to his father all the truth. " Send not away the guide 
 without pay." The son sought the man, through the city he ran, 
 but the man had disappeared. Said Tobiah, " Be not afeared, 
 twas Elijah the seer, whom God sent here to stand by our side, 
 our needs to provide." He bathed both his eyes with the gall 
 of the prize, and his sight was restored by the grace of the 
 Lord. 
 
 Then said he to his son, " Now God His grace has shown, 
 dost thou not yearn to do a deed in turn? My niece forthwith 
 wed." " But her husbands three are dead, each gave up his 
 life as each made her his wife; to her shame and to her sorrow, 
 they survived not to the morrow." " Nay, a demon is the doer of 
 this harm to every wooer. My son, obey my wish, take the 
 liver of the fish, and burn it in full fume, at the door of 
 her room, twill give the demon his doom." At his father s 
 command, with his life in his hand, the youth sought the maid, 
 and wedded her unafraid. For long timid hours his prayer 
 Tobiah pours; but the incense was alight, the demon took to 
 flight, and safe was all the night. Long and happily wed, their 
 lives sweetly sped. 
 
 46 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 Their entertainer tells Joseph and Enan another 
 story of piety connected with the burial of the dead : 
 
 THE PARALYTIC S TOUCHSTONE OF VIRTUE 
 Once upon a time there lived a saintly man, whose abode 
 was on the way to the graveyard. Every funeral passed his 
 door, and he would ever rise and join in the procession, and 
 assist those engaged in the burial. In his old age his feet were 
 paralyzed, and he could not leave his bed; the dead passed his 
 doors, and he sighed that he could not rise to display his wonted 
 respect. Then prayed he to the Lord : " O Lord, who givest 
 eyes to the blind and feet to the lame, hear me from the corner 
 of my sorrowful bed. Grant that when a pious man is borne to 
 his grave, I may be able to rise to my feet." An angel s voice in 
 a vision answered him, " Lo, thy prayer is heard." And so, 
 whenever a pious man was buried, he rose and prayed for his 
 soul. On a day, there died one who had grown old in the 
 world s repute, a man of excellent piety, yet the lame man could 
 not rise as his funeral passed. Next day died a quarrelsome 
 fellow, of ill fame for his notorious sins, and when his body 
 was carried past the lame man s door, the paralytic was able to 
 stand. Every one was amazed, for hitherto the lame man s 
 rising or resting had been a gauge of the departed s virtue. Two 
 sage men resolved to get to the bottom of the mystery. They in 
 terviewed the wife of the fellow who had died second. The 
 wife confirmed the worst account of him, but added: "He had 
 an old father, aged one hundred years, and he honored and 
 served him. Every day he kissed his hand, gave him drink, 
 stripped and dressed him when, from old age, he could not turn 
 himself on his couch; daily he brought ox and lamb bones, from 
 
 47 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 which he drew the marrow, and made dainty foods of it." And 
 the people knew that honoring his father had atoned for his 
 transgressions. Then the two inquisitors went to the house of the 
 pious man, before whom the paralytic had been unable to rise. 
 His widow gave him an excellent character; he was gentle and 
 pious; prayed three times a day, and at midnight rose and went 
 to a special chamber to say his prayers. No one had ever seen 
 the room but himself, as he ever kept the key in his bosom. The 
 two inquisitors opened the door of this chamber, and found a 
 small box hidden in the window-sill ; they opened the box, and 
 found in it a golden figure bearing a crucifix. Thus the man 
 had been one of those who do the deeds of Zimri, and expect the 
 reward of Phineas. 
 
 TABLE TALK 
 
 Joseph and Enan then retire to rest, and their 
 sleep is sweet and long. By strange and devious 
 ways they continue their journey on the morrow, 
 starting at dawn. Again they pass the night at the 
 house of one of Enan s friends, Rabbi Judah, a 
 ripe old sage and hospitable, who welcomes them 
 cordially, feeds them bountifully, gives them spiced 
 dishes, wine of the grape and the pomegranate, and 
 then tells stories and proverbs " from the books of 
 the Arabs." 
 
 A man said to a sage, "Thou braggest of thy wisdom, but it 
 came from me." " Yes," replied the sage, " and it forgot its 
 way back." Who is the worst of men? He who is good in his 
 own esteem. Said a king to a sage, " Sweet would be a king s 
 
 48 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 reign if it lasted forever." " Had such been your predecessor s 
 lot," replied the wise man, " how would you have reached the 
 throne?" A man laid a complaint before the king; the latter 
 drove the suppliant out with violence. " I entered with one com 
 plaint," sighed the man, "I leave with two." What is style? 
 Be brief and do not repeat yourself. The king once visited 
 a nobleman s house, and asked the latter s son, " Whose house 
 is better, your father s or mine ? " " My father s," said the boy, 
 " while the king is in it." A king put on a new robe, which did 
 not become him. " It is not good to wear," said a courtier, " but 
 it is good to put on." The king put the robe on him. A bore 
 visited a sick man. " What ails thee ? " he asked. " Thy pres 
 ence," said the sufferer. A man of high lineage abused a wise 
 man of lowly birth. " My lineage is a blot on me," retorted a 
 sage, " thou art a blot on thy lineage." To another who reviled 
 him for his lack of noble ancestry, he retorted, " Thy noble line 
 ends with thee, with me mine begins." Diogenes and Dives 
 were attacked by robbers. " Woe is me," said Dives, " if they 
 recognize me." " Woe is me," said Diogenes, " if they do not 
 recognize me." A philosopher sat by the target at which the 
 archers were shooting. " Tis the safest spot," said he. An 
 Arab s brother died. "Why did he die?" one asked. "Because 
 he lived," was the answer. "What hast thou laid up for the 
 cold weather?" they asked a poor fellow. "Shivering," he 
 answered. Death is the dread of the rich and the hope of the 
 poor. Which is the best of the beasts? Woman. Hide thy vir 
 tues as thou hidest thy faults. A dwarf brought a complaint 
 to his king. " No one," said the king, " would hurt such a 
 pigmy." "But," retorted the dwarf, "my injurer is smaller than 
 I am." A dolt sat on a stone. " Lo, a blockhead on a block," 
 4 49 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 said the passers-by. "What prayer make you by night?" they 
 asked a sage. " Fear God by day, and by night you will sleep, 
 not pray." Rather a wise enemy than a foolish friend. Not 
 everyone who flees escapes, not everyone who begs has need. 
 A sage had weak eyes. " Heal them," said they. " To see 
 what?" he rejoined. A fool quarrelled with a sage. Said the 
 former, " For every word of abuse I hear from thee, I will retort 
 ten." " Nay," replied the other, " for every ten words of abuse 
 I hear from thee, I will not retort one." An honest man cannot 
 catch a thief. All things grow with time except grief. The 
 character of the sent tells the character of the sender. What 
 is man s best means of concealment? Speech. "Why walkest 
 thou so slowly?" asked the lad of the greybeard. "My years 
 are a chain to my feet: and thy years are preparing thy chain." 
 Do not swallow poison because you know an antidote. The king 
 heard a woman at prayer. " O God," she said, " remove this 
 king from us." " And put a better in his stead," added the 
 eavesdropping monarch. Take measure for this life as though 
 thou wilt live forever; prepare for the next world as though 
 thou diest to-morrow. " He will die," said the doctor, but the 
 patient recovered. " You have returned from the other world," 
 said the doctor when he met the man. " Yes," said the latter, 
 " and the doctors have a bad time there. But fear not. Thou 
 art no doctor." Three things weary: a lamp that will not 
 burn, a messenger that dawdles, a table spread and waiting. 
 
 Then follows a string of sayings about threes: 
 
 Reason rules the body, wisdom is the pilot, law is its light. 
 Might is the lion s, burdens are the ox s, wisdom is man s ; 
 spinning the spider s, building the bee s, making stores the ant s. 
 
 50 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 In three cases lying is permissible: in war, in reconciling man to 
 man, in appeasing one s wife. 
 
 Their host concludes his lengthy list of senten 
 tious remarks thus : 
 
 A king had a signet ring, on which were engraved the words, 
 " Thou hast bored me : rise ! " and when a guest stayed too 
 long, he showed the visitor the ring. The heir of a wealthy 
 man squandered his money, and a sage saw him eating bread 
 and salted olives. " Hadst thou thought that this would be 
 thy food, this would not be thy food." Marry no widow. She 
 will lament her first husband s death. 
 
 THE CITY OF ENAN 
 
 This was the signal for the party to retire to 
 rest. 
 
 Next day the wayfarers reach Enan s own city, 
 the place he had all along desired Joseph to see. 
 He shows Joseph his house ; but the latter replies, 
 " I crave food, not sight-seeing." " Surely," says 
 Enan, " the more hurry the less speed." At last 
 the table is spread; the cloth is ragged, the dishes 
 contain unleavened bread, such as there is no pleas 
 ure in eating, and there is a dish of herbs and vine 
 gar. Then ensues a long wrangle, displaying much 
 medical knowledge, on the physiology of herbs and 
 vegetables, on the eating of flesh, much and fast. 
 
 51 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 Enan makes sarcastic remarks on Joseph s rapa 
 cious appetite. He tells Joseph, he must not eat 
 this or that. A joint of lamb is brought on the 
 table, Enan says the head is bad, and the feet, and 
 the flesh, and the fat; so that Joseph has no alter 
 native but to eat it all. " I fear that what hap 
 pened to the king, will befall thee," said Enan. 
 u Let me feed first," said Joseph; " then you can 
 tell me what happened to the king." 
 
 THE PRINCESS AND THE ROSE 
 
 A gardener came to his garden in the winter. It was the 
 month of Tebet, and he found some roses in flower. He re 
 joiced at seeing them; and he plucked them, and put them on 
 a precious dish, carried them to the king, and placed them before 
 him. The king was surprised, and the flowers were goodly in 
 his sight; and he gave the gardener one hundred pieces of gold. 
 Then said the king in his heart, " To-day we will make merry, 
 and have a feast." All his servants and faithful ministers were 
 invited to rejoice over the joy of the roses. And he sent for 
 his only daughter, then with child; and she stretched forth her 
 hand to take a rose, and a serpent that lay in the dish leapt at 
 her and startled her, and she died before night. 
 
 QUESTION AND ANSWER 
 
 But Joseph s appetite was not to be stayed by 
 such tales as this. So Enan tells him of the " Lean 
 Fox and the Hole "; but in vain. " Open not thy 
 
 52 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 mouth to Satan," says Joseph. " I fear for my 
 appetite, that it become smaller " ; and goes on 
 eating. 
 
 Now Enan tries another tack: he will question 
 him, and put him through his paces. But Joseph 
 yawns and protests that he has eaten too much to 
 keep his eyes open. 
 
 " How canst thou sleep," said Enan, " when thou hast eaten 
 everything, fresh and stale? As I live, thou shalt not seek thy 
 bed until I test thy wisdom until I prove whether all this 
 provender has entered the stomach of a wise man or a fool." 
 
 Then follows an extraordinary string of ana 
 tomical, medical, scientific, and Talmudic ques 
 tions about the optic nerves; the teeth; why a man 
 lowers his head when thinking over things he has 
 never known, but raises his head when thinking 
 over what he once knew but has forgotten; the 
 physiology of the digestive organs, the physiology 
 of laughter; why a boy eats more than a man; why 
 it is harder to ascend a hill than to go down; why 
 snow is white ; why babies have no teeth ; why chil 
 dren s first set of teeth fall out; why saddest tears 
 are saltest; why sea water is heavier than fresh; 
 why hail descends in summer; why the sages said 
 that bastards are mostly clever. To these ques 
 tions, which Enan pours out in a stream, Joseph 
 
 53 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 readily gives answers. But now Enan is hoist with 
 his own petard. 
 
 " I looked at him," continues the poet, " and sleep entrapped 
 his eyes, and his eyelids kissed the irides. Ah ! I laughed in my 
 heart. Now I will talk to him, and puzzle him as he has been 
 puzzling me. He shall not sleep, as he would not let me sleep. 
 My lord, said I, let me now question thee. I am sleepy, 
 said he, but ask on. What subject shall I choose? I said. 
 Any subject, he replied; of all knowledge I know the half. " 
 Joseph asks him astronomical, musical, logical, arithmetical ques 
 tions ; to all of which Enan replies, " I do not know." " But," 
 protests Joseph, " how couldst thou assert that thou knewest half 
 of every subject, when it is clear thou knowest nothing?" 
 " Exactly," says Enan, " for Aristotle says, He who says, I 
 do not know, has already attained the half of knowledge. " 
 
 But he says he knows medicine; so Joseph pro 
 ceeds to question him. Soon he discovers that 
 Enan is again deceiving him; and he abuses Enan 
 roundly for his duplicity. 
 
 Enan at length is moved to retort. 
 
 " I wonder at thy learning," says Enan, " but more at thy 
 appetite." Then the lamp goes out, the servant falls asleep, and 
 they are left in darkness till the morning. Then Joseph demands 
 his breakfast, and goes out to see his ass. The ass attempts to 
 bite Joseph, who strikes it, and the ass speaks. " I am one of 
 the family of Balaam s ass," says the animal. "But I am not 
 Balaam," says Joseph, "to divine that thou hast eaten nothing 
 all night." The servant asserts that he fed the ass, but the 
 
 54 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 animal had gobbled up everything, Vis appetite being equal 
 to his owner s. But Joseph will not beueve this, and Enan is 
 deeply hurt. " Peace ! " he shouts, and Kis eyes shoot flames, 
 and his nostrils distil smoke. " Peace, cease thy folly, or, as I 
 live, and my ancestor Asmodeus, I will seize thee with my little 
 finger, and will show thee the city of David." 
 
 In timid tones Joseph asks him, "Who is this Asmodeus, thy 
 kinsman? " 
 
 ENAN REVEALS HIMSELF 
 
 " Asmodeus," said Enan, " the great prince who, on his wing, 
 bore Solomon from his kingdom to a distant strand." " Woe is 
 me," I moaned, " I thought thee a friend ; now thou art a fiend. 
 Why didst thou hide thy nature? Why didst thou conceal thy 
 descent ? Why hast thou taken me from my home in guile ? " 
 "Nay," said Enan, "where was thy understanding? I gave 
 thee my name, thou shouldst have inverted it" [i. e., transpose 
 Desk to Shed. Enan at the beginning of the tale had announced 
 himself as ha-Desh, he now explains that meant ha-Shed = the 
 demon]. Then Enan gives his pedigree: " I am Enan, the Satan, 
 son of Arnan the Demon, son of the Place of Death, son of Rage, 
 son of Death s Shadow, son of Terror, son of Trembling, son of 
 Destruction, son of Extinction, son of Evil-name, son of Mocking, 
 son of Plague, son of Deceit, son of Injury, son of Asmodeus." 
 
 Nevertheless Enan quiets Joseph s fears, and 
 promises that no harm shall befall him. He goes 
 through Enan s city, sees wizards and sorcerers, and 
 sinners and fools, all giants. 
 
 55 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 ENAN S FRIEND AND HIS DAUGHTER 
 
 Then Enan introduces his own especial friend. " He is good 
 and wise," said Enan, " despite his tall stature. He shows his 
 goodness in hating the wise and loving fools; he is generous, 
 for he will give a beggar a crust of dry bread, and make him 
 pay for it; he knows medicine, for he can tell that if a man is 
 buried, he either has been sick, or has had an accident; he 
 knows astronomy, for he can tell that it is day when the sun 
 shines, and night when the stars appear; he knows arithmetic, 
 for he can tell that one and one make two; he knows mensura 
 tion, for he can tell how many handbreadths his belly measures ; 
 he knows music, for he can tell the difference between the barking 
 of a dog and the braying of an ass." " But, said I," continues 
 Joseph, " how canst thou be the friend of such a one ? Accursed 
 is he, accursed his master." " Nay," answered Enan, " I love 
 him not; I know his vile nature: tis his daughter that binds me 
 to him, for she, with her raven locks and dove s eyes and lily 
 cheeks, is fair beyond my power to praise." Yet I warned him 
 against marrying the daughter of an uneducated man, an Am 
 ha-Arez. Then follows a compilation of passages directed 
 against ignorance. " Ah ! " cries Enan, " your warning moves me. 
 My love for her is fled. Thou fearest God and lovest me, my 
 friend. What is a friend? One heart in two bodies. Then 
 find me another wife, one who is beautiful and good. Worse 
 than a plague is a bad woman. Listen to what once befell me 
 with such a one." 
 
 Thereupon Enan introduces the last of the stones 
 incorporated into the book : 
 
 56 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 THE WASHERWOMAN WHO DID THE DEVIL S WORK 
 
 Once upon a time, in ray wanderings to and fro upon the 
 earth, I came to a city whose inhabitants dwelt together, happy, 
 prosperous, and secure. I made myself well acquainted with the 
 place and the people, but, despite all my efforts, I was unable to 
 entrap a single one. " This is no place for me," I said, " I had 
 better return to my own country." I left the city, and, journey 
 ing on, came across a river, at the brink of which I seated myself. 
 Scarcely had I done so, when a woman appeared bearing her 
 garments to be washed in the river. She looked at me, and 
 asked, " Art thou of the children of men or of demons? " " Well," 
 said I, " I have grown up among men, but I was born among 
 demons." "But what art thou after here?" "Ah," I replied, 
 " I have spent a whole month in yonder city. And what have I 
 found ? A city full of friends, enjoying every happiness in 
 common. In vain have I tried to put a little of wickedness 
 among them." Then the woman, with a supercilious air : " If 
 I am to take thee for a specimen, I must have a very poor 
 opinion of the whole tribe of demons. You seem mighty enough, 
 but you haven t the strength of women. Stop here and keep an 
 eye on the wash; but mind, play me no tricks. I will go back 
 to the city and kindle therein fire and fury, and pour over it a 
 spirit of mischief, and thou shalt see how I can manage things." 
 " Agreed ! " said I, " I will stay here and await thy coming, 
 and watch how affairs turn out in thy hands." 
 
 The washerwoman departed, went into the city, called upon 
 one of the great families there residing, and requested to see 
 the lady of the house. She asked for a washing order, which 
 she promised to execute to the most perfect satisfaction. While 
 the housemaid was collecting the linen, the washerwoman lifted 
 
 57 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 her eyes to the beautiful face of the mistress, and exclaimed: 
 " Yes, they are a dreadful lot, the men ; they are all alike, a 
 malediction on them ! The best of them is not to be trusted. 
 They love all women but their own wives." " What dost thou 
 mean? " asked the lady. " Merely this," she answered. " Coming 
 hither from my house, whom should I meet but thy husband 
 making love to another woman, and such a hideous creature, too ! 
 How he could forsake beauty so rare and exquisite as thine for 
 such disgusting ugliness, passes my understanding. But do not 
 weep, dear lady, don t distress thyself and give way. I know 
 a means by which I shall bring that husband of thine to his 
 senses, so that thou shalt suffer no reproach, and he shall never 
 love any other woman than thee. This is what thou must do. 
 When thy husband comes home, speak softly and sweetly to him; 
 let him suspect nothing; and when he has fallen asleep, take a 
 sharp razor and cut off three hairs from his beard ; black or 
 white hairs, it matters not. These thou must afterwards give to 
 me, and with them I will compound such a remedy that his 
 eyes shall be darkened in their sockets, so that he will look no 
 more upon other lovely women, but cling to thee alone in mighty 
 and manifest and enduring love." All this the lady promised, 
 and gifts besides for the washerwoman, should her plan prosper. 
 Carrying the garments with her, the woman now sought out 
 the lady s husband. With every sign of distress in her voice 
 and manner, she told him that she had a frightful secret to 
 divulge to him. She knew not if she would have the strength 
 to do so. She would rather die first. The husband was all the 
 more eager to know, and would not be refused. " Well, then," 
 she said, " I have just been to thy house, where my lady, thy 
 wife, gave me these garments to wash; and, while I was yet 
 
 58 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 standing there, a youth, of handsome mien and nobly attired, 
 arrived, and the two withdrew into an adjoining room: so I 
 inclined mine ear to listen to their speech, and this is what I 
 overheard: The young man said to thy wife, Kill thy hus 
 band, and I will marry thee. She, however, declared that she 
 was afraid to do such a dreadful deed. O, answered he, 
 with a little courage it is quite easy. When thy husband is 
 asleep, take a sharp razor and cut his throat. " In fierce rage, 
 but suppressing all outward indication of it, the husband returned 
 home. Pretending to fall asleep, he watched his wife closely, 
 saw her take a razor to sever the three hairs for the washer 
 woman s spell, darted up suddenly, wrested the razor from her 
 hands, and with it slew his wife on the spot. 
 
 The news spread ; the relations of the wife united to avenge 
 her death, and kill the husband. In their turn his relatives re 
 solved to avenge him ; both houses were embroiled, and before 
 the feud was at an end, two hundred and thirty lives were 
 sacrificed. The city resounded with a great cry, the like of 
 which had never been heard. " From that day," concluded 
 Enan, " I decided to injure no man more. Yet for this very 
 reason I fear to wed an evil woman." " Fear not," returned 
 Joseph, "the girl I recommend is beautiful and good." And 
 Enan married her, and loved her. 
 
 Thus Enan is metamorphosed from a public 
 demon into something of a domestic saint. Zabara 
 gives us an inverted Faust. 
 
 JOSEPH RETURNS HOME TO BARCELONA 
 
 " After a while," concludes Joseph, " I said to 
 him, I have sojourned long enough in this city, the 
 
 59 
 
" THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 
 ways of which please me not. Ignorance prevails, 
 and poetry is unknown; the law is despised; the 
 young are set over the old; they slander and are 
 impudent. Let me go home after my many years 
 of wandering in a strange land. Fain would I seek 
 the place where dwells the great prince, Rabbi 
 Sheshet Benveniste, of whom Wisdom says, Thou 
 art my teacher, and Faith, Thou art my friend. 
 4 What qualities, asked Enan, brought him to 
 this lofty place of righteousness and power? 
 His simplicity and humility, his uprightness and 
 saintliness. 
 
 And with this eulogy of the aged Rabbi of Bar 
 celona, the poem somewhat inconsequently ends. It 
 may be that the author left the work without putting 
 in the finishing touches. This would account for 
 the extra stories, which, as was seen above, may 
 belong to the book, though not incorporated into it. 
 
 It will be thought, from the summary mode in 
 which I have rendered these stories, that I take 
 Zabara to be rather a literary curiosity than a poet. 
 But Zabara s poetical merits are considerable. If 
 I have refrained from attempting a literal render 
 ing, it is mainly because the rhymed-prose genre is 
 so characteristically Oriental that its charm is 
 incommunicable in a Western language. Hence, 
 
 60 
 
"THE BOOK OF DELIGHT" 
 
 to those who do not read Zabara in the original, 
 he is more easily appreciated as a conteur than as 
 an imaginative writer. To the Hebraist, too, 
 something of the same remark applies. Rhymed 
 prose is not much more consistent with the genius 
 of Hebrew than it is with the genius of English. 
 Arabic and Persian seem the only languages in 
 which rhymed prose assumes a natural and melodi 
 ous shape. In the new-Hebrew, rhymed prose has 
 always been an exotic, never quite a native flower. 
 The most skilful gardeners failed to acclimatize it 
 thoroughly in European soil. Yet Zabara s hu 
 mor, his fluent simplicity, his easy mastery over 
 Hebrew, his invention, his occasional gleams of 
 fancy, his gift of satire, his unfailing charm, com 
 bine to give his poem some right to the title by 
 which he called it" The Book of Delight." 
 
 [Notes, pp. 301-302] 
 
 61 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 Of a land where every stone has its story, it can 
 hardly be asserted that any one place has a fuller 
 tale to tell than another. But Hebron has a pe 
 culiar old-world charm as the home of the founder 
 of the Hebrew race. Moreover, one s youthful 
 imagination associates Hebron with the giants, the 
 sons of Anak, sons, that is, of the long neck; men 
 of Arba, with broad, square shoulders. A sight of 
 the place itself revives this memory. Ancient He 
 bron stood higher than the present city, but as 
 things now are, though the hills of Judea reach 
 their greatest elevation in the neighborhood, He 
 bron itself rests in a valley. Most towns in Pales 
 tine are built on hills, but Hebron lies low. Yet 
 the surrounding hills are thirty-two hundred feet 
 above the level of the Mediterranean, and five hun 
 dred feet higher than Mount Olivet. For this 
 reason Hebron is ideally placed for conveying an 
 impression of the mountainous character of Judea. 
 In Jerusalem you are twenty-six hundred feet above 
 the sea, but, being high up, you scarcely realize that 
 
 62 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 you are in a mountain city. The hills about Hebron 
 tower loftily above you, and seem a fitting abode 
 for the giants whom Joshua and Caleb overthrew. 
 Hebron, from yet another point of view, recalls 
 its old-world associations. Not only is Hebron one 
 of the oldest cities in the world still inhabited, but 
 it has been far less changed by Western influences 
 than other famous places. Hebron is almost en 
 tirely unaffected by Christian influence. In the 
 East, Christian influence more or less means Euro 
 pean influence, but Hebron is still completely Ori 
 ental. It is a pity that modern travellers no longer 
 follow the ancient route which passed from Egypt 
 along the coast to Gaza, and then struck eastwards 
 to Hebron. By this route, the traveller would 
 come upon Judea in its least modernized aspect. 
 He would find in Hebron a city without a hotel, 
 and unblessed by an office of the Monarch of the 
 East, Mr. Cook. There are no modern schools in 
 Hebron ; the only institution of the kind, the Mild- 
 may Mission School, had scarcely any pupils at the 
 time of my visit. This is but another indication 
 of the slight effect that European forces are pro 
 ducing; the most useful, so far, has been the medi 
 cal mission of the United Free Church of Scotland. 
 But Hebron has been little receptive of the educa- 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 tional and sanitary boons that are the chief good 
 and it is a great good derived from the Euro 
 pean missions in the East. I am almost reluctant 
 to tell the truth, as I must, of Hebron, and point 
 out the pitiful plight of our brethren there, lest, 
 perchance, some philanthropists set about mending 
 the evil, to the loss of the primitiveness in which 
 Hebron at present revels. This is the pity of it. 
 When you employ a modern broom to sweep away 
 the dirt of an ancient city, your are apt to remove 
 something else as well as the dirt. 
 
 Besides its low situation and its primitiveness, 
 Hebron has a third peculiarity. Go where one may 
 in Judea, the ancient places, even when still inhab 
 ited, wear a ruined look. Zion itself is scarcely 
 an exception. Despite its fifty thousand inhabi 
 tants, Jerusalem has a decayed appearance, for the 
 newest buildings often look like ruins. The cause 
 of this is that many structures are planned on a 
 bigger scale than can be executed, and thus are left 
 permanently unfinished, or like the windmill of Sir 
 Moses are disused from their very birth. Hebron, 
 in this respect again, is unlike the other cities of 
 Judea. It had few big buildings, hence it has few 
 big ruins. There are some houses of two stories 
 in which the upper part has never been completed, 
 
 64 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 but the houses are mostly of one story, with par 
 tially flat and partially domed roofs. The domes 
 are the result both of necessity and design; of ne 
 cessity, because of the scarcity of large beams for 
 rafters; of design, because the dome enables the 
 rain to collect in a groove, or channel, whence it 
 sinks into a reservoir. 
 
 Hebron, then, produces a favorable impression 
 on the whole. It is green and living, its hills are 
 clad with vines, with plantations of olives, pome 
 granates, figs, quinces, and apricots. Nowhere in 
 Judea, except in the Jordan valley, is there such an 
 abundance of water. In the neighborhood of He 
 bron, there are twenty-five springs, ten large per 
 ennial wells, and several splendid pools. Still, as 
 when the huge cluster was borne on two men s 
 shoulders from Eshkol, the best vines of Palestine 
 grow in and around Hebron. The only large struc 
 ture in the city, the mosque which surmounts the 
 Cave of Machpelah, is in excellent repair, espe 
 cially since 1894-5, when the Jewish lads from the 
 Alliance school of Jerusalem renewed the iron 
 gates within, and supplied fresh rails to the so- 
 called sarcophagi of the Patriarchs. The ancient 
 masonry built round the cave by King Herod, the 
 stones of which exactly resemble the masonry of 
 6 65 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 the Wailing Place in Jerusalem, still stands in its 
 massive strength. 
 
 I have said that Hebron ought to be approached 
 from the South or West. The modern traveller, 
 however, reaches it from the North. You leave 
 Jerusalem by the Jaffa gate, called by the Moham 
 medans Bab el-Khalil, I. e. Hebron gate. The 
 Mohammedans call Hebron el-Khalil, City of the 
 Friend of God, a title applied to Abraham both in 
 Jewish and Mohammedan tradition. Some, in 
 deed, derive the name Hebron from Chaber, com 
 rade or friend; but Hebron may mean " confedera 
 tion of cities," just as its other name, Kiriath-arba, 
 may possibly mean Tetrapolis. The distance from 
 Jerusalem to Hebron depends upon the views of 
 the traveller. You can easily get to Hebron in 
 four hours and a half by the new carriage road, 
 but the distance, though less than twenty miles, 
 took me fourteen hours, from five in the morning 
 till seven at night. Most travellers turn aside to 
 the left to see the Pools of Solomon, and the grave 
 of Rachel lies on the right of the highroad itself. 
 It is a modern building with a dome, and the most 
 affecting thing is the rough-hewn block of stone 
 worn smooth by the lips of weeping women. On 
 the opposite side of the road is Tekoah, the birth- 
 
 66 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 place of Amos; before you reach it, five miles more 
 to the north, you get a fine glimpse also of Bethle 
 hem, the White City, cleanest of Judean settle 
 ments. Travellers tell you that the rest of the road 
 is uninteresting. I did not find it so. For the 
 motive of my journey was just to see those " un 
 interesting" sites, Beth-zur, where Judas Maccabeus 
 won such a victory that he was able to rededicate the 
 Temple, and Beth-zacharias, through whose broad 
 valley-roads the Syrian elephants wound their 
 heavy way, to drive Judas back on his precarious 
 base at the capital. 
 
 It is somewhat curious that this indifference to 
 the Maccabean sites is not restricted to Christian 
 tourists. For, though several Jewish travellers 
 passed from Jerusalem to Hebron in the Middle 
 Ages, none of them mentions the Maccabean sites, 
 none of them spares a tear or a cheer for Judas 
 Maccabeus. They were probably absorbed in the 
 memory of the Patriarchs and of King David, the 
 other and older names identified with this district. 
 Medieval fancy, besides, was too busy with peo 
 pling Hebron with myths to waste itself on sober 
 facts. Hebron, according to a very old notion, was 
 the place where Adam and Eve lived after their 
 expulsion from Eden; it was from Hebron s red 
 
 67 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 earth that the first man was made. The Pirke di 
 Rabbi Eliezer relate, that when the three angels 
 visited Abraham, and he went to get a lamb for 
 their meal, the animal fled into a cave. Abraham 
 followed it, and saw Adam and Eve lying asleep, 
 with lamps burning by their -tombs, and a sweet 
 savor, as of incense, emanating from the dead 
 father and mother of human-kind. Abraham con 
 ceived a love for the Cave, and hence desired it for 
 Sarah s resting-place. 
 
 I suppose that some will hold, that we are not 
 on surer historical ground when we come to the 
 Biblical statement that connects Abraham with He 
 bron. Before arguing whether Abraham lived in 
 Hebron, and was buried in Machpelah, one ought 
 to prove that Abraham ever lived at all, to be 
 buried anywhere. But I shall venture to take 
 Abraham s real existence for granted, as I am not 
 one of those who think that a statement must be 
 false because it is made in the Book of Genesis. 
 That there was a very ancient shrine in Hebron, 
 that the great Tree of Mamre was the abode of a 
 local deity, may be conceded, but to my mind there 
 is no more real figure in history than Abraham. 
 Especially when one compares the modern legends 
 with the Biblical story does the substantial truth of 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 the narrative in Genesis manifest itself. The nar 
 rative may contain elements of folk poetry, but the 
 hero Abraham is a genuine personality. 
 
 As I have mentioned the tree, it may be as well 
 to add at once that Abraham s Oak is still shown 
 at Hebron, and one can well imagine how it was 
 thought that this magnificent terebinth dated 
 from Bible times. A few years ago it was a fresh, 
 vigorous giant, but now it is quite decayed. The 
 ruin began in 1853, when a large branch was 
 broken off by the weight of the snow. Twelve 
 years ago the Russian Archimandrite of Jerusalem 
 purchased the land on which the tree stands, and 
 naturally he took much care of the relic. In fact, 
 he took too much care, for some people think that 
 the low wall which the Russians erected as a safe 
 guard round the Oak, has been the cause of the 
 rapid decay that has since set in. Year by year the 
 branches have dropped off, the snow and the light 
 ning have had their victims. It is said that only 
 two or three years ago one branch towards the 
 East was still living, but when I saw it, the trunk 
 was bare and bark-less, full of little worm-holes, 
 and quite without a spark of vitality. The last 
 remaining fragment has since fallen, and now the 
 site of the tree is only marked by the row of young 
 
 69 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 cypresses which have been planted in a circle round 
 the base of the Oak of Mamre. But who shall 
 prophesy that, a century hence, a tree will not have 
 acquired sufficient size and antiquity to be foisted 
 upon uncritical pilgrims as the veritable tree under 
 which Father Abraham dwelt ! 
 
 The Jewish tradition does not quite agree with 
 the view that identified this old tree with Mamre. 
 According to Jewish tradition, the Tree is at the 
 ruins of Ramet el-Khalil, the High Place of the 
 Friend, i. e. of Abraham, about two miles nearer 
 Jerusalem. Mr. Shaw Caldecott has propounded 
 the theory that this site is Samuel s Ramah, and 
 that the vast ruins of a stone-walled enclosure here 
 represent the enclosure within which Samuel s altar 
 stood. The Talmud has it that Abraham erected 
 a guest-house for the entertainment of strangers 
 near the Grove of Mamre. There were doors on 
 every side, so that the traveller found a welcome 
 from whichever direction he came. There our 
 father made the name of God proclaimed at the 
 mouth of all wayfarers. How? After they had 
 eaten and refreshed themselves, they rose to thank 
 him. Abraham answered, " Was the food mine? 
 It is the bounty of the Creator of the Universe." 
 Then they praised, glorified, and blessed Him who 
 spake and the world was. 
 
 70 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 We are on the road now near Hebron, but, be 
 fore entering, let us recall a few incidents in its 
 history. After the Patriarchal age, Hebron was 
 noted as the possession of Caleb. It also figures as 
 a priestly city and as one of the cities of refuge. 
 David passed much of his life here, and, after 
 Saul s death, Hebron was the seat of David s rule 
 over Judea. Abner was slain here by Joab, and 
 was buried here they still show Abner s tomb in 
 the garden of a large house within the city. By the 
 pool at Hebron were slain the murderers of Ish- 
 bosheth, and here Absalom assumed the throne. 
 After his time we hear less of Hebron. Jerusalem 
 overshadowed it in importance, yet we have one 
 or two mentions. Rehoboam strengthened the 
 town, and from a stray reference in Nehemiah, w r e 
 gather that the place long continued to be called 
 by its older name of Kiriath Arba. For a long 
 period after the return from the Exile Hebron be 
 longed to the Idumeans. It was the scene of war 
 fare in the Maccabean period, and also during the 
 rebellion against Rome. In the market-place at 
 Hebron, Hadrian sold numbers of Jewish slaves 
 after the fall of Bar-Cochba, in 135 c. E. In the 
 twelfth century Hebron was in the hands of the 
 Christian Crusaders. The fief of Hebron, or, as 
 
 71 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 it was called, of Saint Abraham, extended south 
 wards to Beer-sheba. A bishopric was founded 
 there in 1169, but was abandoned twenty years 
 later. 
 
 We hear of many pilgrims in the Middle Ages. 
 The Christians used to eat some of the red earth 
 of Hebron, the earth from which Adam was made. 
 On Sunday the seventeenth of October, 1 165, Mai- 
 monides was in Hebron, passing the city on his 
 way from Jerusalem to Cairo. Obadiah of Berti- 
 noro, in 1488, took Hebron on the reverse route. 
 He went from Egypt across the desert to Gaza, 
 and, though he travelled all day, did not reach 
 Hebron from Gaza till the second morning. If 
 the text is correct, David Reubeni was four days 
 in traversing the same road, a distance of about 
 thirty-three miles. To revert to an earlier time, 
 Nachmanides very probably visited Hebron. In 
 deed, his grave is shown to the visitor. But this 
 report is inaccurate. He wrote to his son, in 1267, 
 from Jerusalem, " Now I intend to go to Hebron, 
 to the sepulchre of our ancestors, to prostrate my 
 self, and there to dig my grave." But he must 
 have altered his mind in the last-named particular, 
 for his tomb is most probably in Acre. 
 
 I need not go through the list of distinguished 
 72 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 visitors to Hebron. Suffice it to say that in the 
 fourteenth century there was a large and flourish 
 ing community of Jews in the town; they were 
 weavers and dyers of cotton stuffs and glass- 
 makers, and the Rabbi was often himself a shep 
 herd in the literal sense, teaching the Torah while 
 at work in the fields. He must have felt embar 
 rassed sometimes between his devotion to his meta 
 phorical and to his literal flock. When I was at 
 Moza, I was talking over some Biblical texts with 
 Mr. David Yellin, who was with me. The colo 
 nists endured this for a while, but at last they broke 
 into open complaint. One of the colonists said to 
 me: " It is true that the Mishnah forbids you to 
 turn aside from the Torah to admire a tree, but you 
 have come all the way from Europe to admire my 
 trees. Leave the Torah alone for the present." 
 I felt that he was right, and wondered how the 
 Shepherd Rabbis of Hebron managed in similar 
 circumstances. 
 
 In the century of which I am speaking, the He 
 bron community consisted entirely of Sefardim, 
 and it was not till the sixteenth century that Ash- 
 kenazim settled there in large numbers. I have 
 already mentioned the visit of David Reubeni. He 
 was in Hebron in 1523, when he entered the Cave 
 
 73 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 of Machpelah on March tenth, at noon. It is of 
 interest to note that his account of the Cave agrees 
 fully with that of Conder. It is now quite certain 
 that he was really there in person, and his narrative 
 was not made up at second hand. The visit of 
 Reubeni, as well as Sabbatai Zebi s, gave new 
 vogue to the place. When Sabbatai was there, a 
 little before the year 1666, the Jews were awake 
 and up all night, so as not to lose an instant of the 
 sacred intercourse with the Messiah. But the 
 journey to Hebron was not popular till our own 
 days. It was too dangerous, the Hebron natives en 
 joying a fine reputation for ferocity and brigand 
 age. An anonymous Hebrew writer writes from 
 Jerusalem in 1495, that a few days before a Jew 
 from Hebron had been waylaid and robbed. But 
 he adds: " I hear that on Passover some Jews 
 are coming here from Egypt and Damascus, with 
 the intention of also visiting Hebron. I shall go 
 with them, if I am still alive." 
 
 In Baedeker, Hebron is still given a bad charac 
 ter, the Muslims of the place being called fanatical 
 and violent. I cannot confirm this verdict. The 
 children throw stones at you, but they take good 
 care not to hit. As I have already pointed out, 
 Hebron is completely non-Christian, just as Beth- 
 
 74 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 lehem is completely non-Mohammedan. The 
 Crescent is very disinclined to admit the Cross into 
 Hebron, the abode of Abraham, a name far more 
 honored by Jews and Mohammedans than by 
 Christians. 
 
 It is not quite just to call the Hebronites fanati 
 cal and sullen; they really only desire to hold He 
 bron as their own. " Hebron for the Hebronites " 
 is their cry. The road, at all events, is quite safe. 
 One of the surprises of Palestine is the huge traffic 
 along the main roads. Orientals not only make a 
 great bustle about what they do, but they really are 
 very busy people. Along the roads you meet 
 masses of passengers, people on foot, on mules and 
 horses, on camels, in wheeled vehicles. You come 
 across groups of pilgrims, with one mule to the 
 party, carrying the party s goods, the children al 
 ways barefooted and bareheaded the latter fact 
 making you realize how the little boy in the Bible 
 story falling sick in the field exclaimed " My 
 head, my head ! " Besides the pilgrims, there are 
 the bearers of goods and produce. You see don 
 keys carrying large stones for building, one stone 
 over each saddle. If you are as lucky as I was, you 
 may see a runaway camel along the Hebron road, 
 scouring alone at break-neck speed, with laughter- 
 producing gait. 
 
 75 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 Of Hebron itself I saw little as I entered, because 
 I arrived towards sunset, and only had time to 
 notice that everyone in the streets carried a lan 
 tern. In Jerusalem only the women carry lights, 
 but in Hebron men had them as well. I wondered 
 where I was to pass the night. Three friends had 
 accompanied me from Jerusalem, and they told me 
 not to worry, as we could stay at the Jewish doc 
 tor s. It seemed to me a cool piece of impudence 
 to billet a party on a man whose name had been pre 
 viously unknown to me, but the result proved that 
 they were right. The doctor welcomed us right 
 heartily; he said that it was a joy to entertain us. 
 Now it was that one saw the advantages of the 
 Oriental architecture. The chief room in an East 
 ern house is surrounded on three sides by a wide 
 stone or wooden divan, which, in wealthy houses, 
 is richly upholstered. The Hebron doctor was not 
 rich, but there was the same divan covered with a 
 bit of chintz. On it one made one s bed, hard, it is 
 true, but yet a bed. You always take your rugs 
 with you for covering at night, you put your port 
 manteau under your head as a pillow, and there you 
 are ! You may rely upon one thing. People who, 
 on their return from Palestine, tell you that they 
 had a comfortable trip, have seen nothing of the 
 
 76 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 real life of the country. To do that you must 
 rough it, as I did both at Modin and at Hebron. 
 To return to the latter. The rooms have stone 
 floors and vaulted roofs, the children walk about 
 with wooden shoes, and the pitter-patter makes a 
 pleasant music. They throw off the shoes as they 
 enter the room. My host had been in Hebron for 
 six years, and he told me overnight what I observed 
 for myself next day, that, considering the fearful 
 conditions under which the children live, there is 
 comparatively little sickness. As for providing 
 meals, a genuine communism prevails. You pro 
 duce your food, your host adds his store, and you 
 partake in common of the feast to which both sides 
 contribute. After a good long talk, I got to sleep 
 easily, thinking, as I dozed off, that I should pass a 
 pleasant night. I had become impervious to the 
 mosquitoes, but there was something else which I 
 had forgotten. Was it a dream, an awful night 
 mare, or had a sudden descent of Bedouins oc 
 curred? Gradually I was awakened by a noise as 
 of wild beasts let loose, howls of rage and calls to 
 battle. It was only the dogs. In Jerusalem I had 
 never heard them, as the Jewish hotel was then 
 well out of the town; it has since been moved 
 nearer In. It is impossible to convey a sense of the 
 
 77 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 terrifying effect produced by one s first experience 
 of the night orgies of Oriental dogs, it curdles your 
 blood to recall it. Seen by daytime, the dogs are 
 harmless enough, as they go about their scavenger 
 work among the heaps of refuse and filth. But by 
 night they are howling demons, stampeding about 
 the streets in mad groups, barking to and at each 
 other, whirling piteously one moment, roaring 
 hoarsely and snapping fiercely another. 
 
 The dogs did me one service, they made me get 
 up early. I walked through a bluish-gray atmos 
 phere. Colors in Judea are bright, yet there is 
 always an effect as of a thin gauze veil over them. 
 I went, then, into the streets, and at five o clock the 
 sun was high, and the bustle of the place had be 
 gun. The air was keen and fresh, and many were 
 already abroad. I saw some camels start for Jeru 
 salem, laden with straw mats made in Hebron. 
 Next went some asses carrying poultry for the Holy 
 City, then a family caravan with its inevitable 
 harem of closely veiled women. Then I saw a man 
 with tools for hewing stone, camels coming into 
 Hebron, a boy with a large petroleum can going 
 to fetch water, they are abandoning the use of 
 the olden picturesque stone pitchers, then I saw 
 asses loaded with vine twigs, one with lime, women 
 
 73 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 with black dresses and long white veils, boys with 
 bent backs carrying iron stones. I saw, too, some 
 Bethlehemite Christians hurrying home to the tra 
 ditional site of the nativity. You can always dis 
 tinguish these, for they are the only Christians in 
 Palestine that wear turbans habitually. And all 
 over the landscape dominated the beautiful green 
 hills, fresh with the morning dew, a dew so thick 
 that I had what I had not expected, a real morning 
 bath. I was soaked quite wet by the time I re 
 turned from my solitary stroll. I had a capital 
 breakfast, for which we supplied the solids, and our 
 host the coffee. Butter is a luxury which we.neither 
 expected nor got. Hebron, none the less, seemed 
 to me a Paradise, and I applauded the legend that 
 locates Adam and Eve in this spot. 
 
 Alas ! I had not yet seen Hebron. The doctor 
 lived on the outskirts near the highroad, where 
 there are many fine and beautiful residences. I was 
 soon to enter the streets and receive a rude awaken 
 ing, when I saw the manner in which the fifteen 
 hundred Jews of Hebron live. Hebron is a ghetto 
 in a garden ; it is worse than even Jerusalem, Jeru 
 salem being clean in comparison. Dirty, dark, nar 
 row, vaulted, unevenly paved, running with liquid 
 slime such are the streets of Hebron. You are 
 
 79 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 constantly in danger of slipping, unless you wear 
 the flat, heel-less Eastern shoes, and, if you once 
 fell, not all the perfumes of Araby could make you 
 sweet again. 
 
 I should say that, before starting on my round, 
 I had to secure the attendance of soldiers. Not 
 that it was necessary, but they utilize Baedeker s 
 assertion, that the people are savage, to get fees 
 out of visitors a cunning manner of turning the 
 enemy s libels to profitable account. I hired two 
 soldiers, but one by one others joined my train, so 
 that by the time my tour was over, I had a whole 
 regiment of guardians, all demanding baksheesh. 
 I would only deal with the leader, a ragged war 
 rior with two daggers, a sword, and a rifle. " How 
 much? " I asked. " We usually ask a napoleon 
 (i. e. 20 francs) for an escort, but we will charge 
 you only ten francs." I turned to the doctor 
 and asked him, " How much? " " Give them a 
 beslik between them," he said. A beslik is only 
 five pence. I offered it in trepidation, but the sum 
 satisfied the whole gang, who thanked me pro 
 fusely. 
 
 First I visited the prison, a sort of open air cage, 
 in which about a dozen men were smoking cigar 
 ettes. The prison was much nicer than the Mo- 
 
 80 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 hammedan school close by. This was a small 
 overcrowded room, with no window in it, the little 
 boys sitting on the ground, swaying with a sleepy 
 chant. The teacher s only function was repre 
 sented by his huge cane, which he plied often and 
 skilfully. Outside the door was a barber shaving 
 a pilgrim s head. The pilgrim was a Muslim, 
 going on the Haj to Mecca. These pilgrims are 
 looked on with mingled feelings; their piety is ad 
 mired, but also distrusted. A local saying is, " If 
 thy neighbor has been on the Haj, beware of him; 
 if he has been twice, have no dealings with him; if 
 he has been thrice, move into another street." 
 After the pilgrim, I passed a number of blind 
 weavers, working before large wooden frames. 
 
 But now for the Jewish quarter. This is entered 
 by a low wooden door, at which we had to knock 
 and then stoop to get in. The Jews are no longer 
 forced to have this door, but they retain it volun 
 tarily. Having got in, we were in a street so dark 
 that we could not see a foot before us, but we kept 
 moving, and soon came to a slightly better place, 
 where the sun crept through in fitful gleams. The 
 oldest synagogue was entered first. Its flooring 
 was of marble squares, its roof vaulted, and its 
 Ark looked north towards Jerusalem. There were, 
 6 81 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 as so often in the East, two Arks ; when one is too 
 small, they do not enlarge it, but build another. 
 The Sefardic Talmud Torah is a small room 
 without window or ventilation, the only light and 
 air enter by the door. The children were huddled 
 together on an elevated wooden platform. They 
 could read Hebrew fluently, and most of them 
 spoke Arabic. The German children speak Yid 
 dish; the custom of using Hebrew as a living lan 
 guage has not spread here so much as in Jaffa and 
 the colonies. The Beth ha-Midrash for older chil 
 dren was a little better equipped; it had a stone 
 floor, but the pupils reclined on couches round the 
 walls. They learn very little of what we should 
 call secular subjects. I examined the store of manu 
 scripts, but Professor Schechter had been before 
 me, and there was nothing left but modern Cab 
 balistic literature. The other synagogue is small, 
 and very bare of ornament. The Rabbi was seated 
 there, " learning," with great Tefillin and Tallith 
 on a fine, simple, benevolent soul. To my sur 
 prise he spoke English, and turned out to be none 
 other than Rachmim Joseph Franco, who, as long 
 ago as 1851, when the earthquake devastated the 
 Jewish quarter, had been sent from Rhodes to col 
 lect relief funds. He was very ailing, and I could 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 not have a long conversation with him, but he told 
 me that he had known my father, who was then a 
 boy, in London. Then I entered a typical Jewish 
 dwelling of the poor. It consisted of a single 
 room, opening on to the dark street, and had a 
 tiny barred window at the other side. On the 
 left was a broad bed, on the right a rude cooking 
 stove and a big water pitcher. There was nothing 
 else in the room, except a deep stagnant mud pool, 
 which filled the centre of the floor. 
 
 Next door they were baking Matzoth in an 
 oven fed by a wood fire. It was a few days before 
 Passover. The Matzoth were coarse, and had 
 none of the little holes with which we are familiar. 
 So through streets within streets, dirt within dirt, 
 room over room, in hopeless intricacy. Then we 
 were brought to a standstill, a man was coming 
 down the street with a bundle of wood, and we had 
 to wait till he had gone by, the streets being too 
 narrow for two persons to pass each other. An 
 other street was impassable for a different reason, 
 there was quite a river of flowing mud, knee deep. 
 I asked for a boat, but a man standing by hoisted 
 me on his shoulders, and carried me across, himself 
 wading through it with the same unconcern as the 
 boys and girls were wallowing in it, playing and 
 
 3 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 amusing themselves. How alike children are all 
 the world over! 
 
 And yet, with it all, Hebron is a healthy place. 
 There is little of the intermittent fever prevalent 
 in other parts of Palestine; illness is common, but 
 not in a bad form. Jerusalem is far more un 
 healthy, because of the lack of water. But the 
 Jews of Hebron are miserably poor. How they 
 live is a mystery. They are not allowed to own 
 land, even if they could acquire it. There was once 
 a little business to be done in lending money to the 
 Arabs, but as the Government refuses to help in 
 the collection of debts, this trade is not flourishing, 
 and a good thing, too. There are, of course, some 
 industries. First there is the wine. I saw nothing 
 of the vintage, as my visit was in the spring, but I 
 tasted the product and found it good. The Arab 
 vine-owners sell the grapes to Jews, who extract the 
 juice. Still there is room for enterprise here, and 
 it is regrettable that few seem to think of Hebron 
 when planning the regeneration of Judea. True, 
 I should regret the loss of primitiveness here, as I 
 said at the outset, but when the lives of men are 
 concerned, esthetics must go to the wall. The Jew 
 ish quarter was enlarged in 1875, but it is still in 
 adequate. The Society Lemaan Zion has done 
 
 84 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 a little to introduce modern education, but neither 
 the Alliance nor the Anglo- Jewish Association has 
 a school here. Lack of means prevents the neces 
 sary efforts from being made. Most deplorable is 
 the fact connected with the hospital. In a beautiful 
 sunlit road above the mosque, amid olive groves, is 
 the Jewish hospital, ready for use, well-built, but 
 though the very beds were there when I saw it, no 
 patients could be received, as there were no funds. 
 The Jewish doctor was doing a wonderful work. 
 He had exiled himself from civilized life, as we 
 Westerns understand it; his children had no school 
 to which to go; he felt himself stagnating, without 
 intellectual intercourse with his equals, yet active, 
 kindly, uncomplaining one of those everyday 
 martyrs whom one meets so often among the Jews 
 of Judea, men who day by day see their ambitions 
 vanishing under the weight of a crushing duty. It 
 was sad to see how he lingered over the farewell 
 when I left him. I said that his house had seemed 
 an oasis in the desert to me, that I could never for 
 get the time spent with him. u And what of me? " 
 he answered. " Your visit has been an oasis in the 
 desert to me, but you go and the desert remains." 
 Surely, the saddest thing in life is this feeling that 
 one s own uninteresting, commonplace self should 
 
 85 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 mean so much to others. I call it sad, because so 
 few of us realize what we may mean to others, 
 being so absorbed in our selfish thought of what 
 others mean to us, 
 
 There are two industries in Hebron besides the 
 vintage. It supplies most of the skin-bottles used 
 in Judea, and a good deal of glassware, including 
 lamps, is manufactured there. The Hebron tan 
 nery is a picturesque place, but no Jews are em 
 ployed in it. Each bottle is made from an entire 
 goat-skin, from which only the head and feet are 
 removed. The lower extremities are sewn up, and 
 the neck is drawn together to form the neck of the 
 water bottle. Some trade is also done here in 
 wool, which the Arabs bring in and sell at the mar 
 ket held every Friday. In ancient times the sheep 
 used in the Temple sacrifices were obtained from 
 Hebron. Besides the tannery, the glass factories 
 are worth a visit. The one which I saw was in a 
 cavern, lit only by the glow of the central furnace. 
 Seated round the hearth (I am following Gautier s 
 faithful description of the scene) and served by 
 two or three boys, were about ten workmen, mak 
 ing many-colored bracelets and glass rings, which 
 varied in size from small finger rings to circlets 
 through which you could easily put your arm. 
 
 86 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 The workmen are provided with two metal rods 
 and a pair of small tongs, and they ply these primi 
 tive instruments with wonderful dexterity. They 
 work very hard, at least fifteen hours a day, for 
 five days a week. 
 
 This is one of the curiosities of the East. Either 
 the men there are loafers, or they work with ex 
 traordinary vigor. There is nothing between doing 
 too much and doing nothing. The same thing 
 strikes one at Jaffa. The porters who carry your 
 baggage from the landing stage to the steamer do 
 more work than three English dock laborers. They 
 carry terrific weights. When a family moves, a 
 porter carries all the furniture on his back. Yet 
 side by side with these overworked men, Jaffa is 
 crowded with idlers, who do absolutely nothing. 
 Such are the contrasts of the surprising Orient. 
 
 Many of the beads and rosaries taken to Europe 
 by pious pilgrims are made in Hebron, just as the 
 mother of pearl relics come chiefly from Bethle 
 hem, where are made also the tobacco-jars of Dead 
 Sea stone. Hebron does a fair trade with the 
 Bedouins, but on the whole it is quite unprogres- 
 sive. At first sight this may seem rather an un 
 pleasant fact for lovers of peace. Hebron has for 
 many centuries been absolutely free from the rav- 
 
 87 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 ages of war, yet it stagnates. Peace is clearly not 
 enough for progress. As the Rabbinical phrase 
 well puts it, " Peace is the vessel which holds all 
 other good " without peace this other good is 
 spilt, but peace is after all the containing vessel, not 
 the content of happiness. 
 
 I have left out, in the preceding narrative, the 
 visit paid to the Haram erected over the Cave of 
 Machpelah. The mosque is an imposing structure, 
 and rises above the houses on the hill to the left as 
 you enter from Jerusalem. The walls of the en 
 closure and of the mosque are from time to time 
 whitewashed, so that the general appearance is 
 somewhat dazzling. It has already been men 
 tioned that certain repairs were effected in 1894-5. 
 The work was done by the lads of the Technical 
 School in Jerusalem; they made an iron gate for 
 Joseph s tomb, the Moslems believe that Joseph 
 is buried in Hebron, and they made one gate for 
 Abraham s tomb, one gate and three window grat 
 ings for Isaac s tomb, and one gate and two win 
 dow gratings for Rebekah s tomb. This iron work, 
 it is satisfactory to remember, was rendered pos 
 sible by the splendid machinery sent out to the 
 school from London by the Anglo- Jewish Associa 
 tion. The ordinary Jewish visitor is not allowed 
 
 88 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 to enter the enclosure at all. I was stopped at the 
 steps, where the custodian audaciously demanded 
 a tip for not letting me in. The tombs within are 
 not the real tombs of the Patriarchs; they are 
 merely late erections over the spots where the 
 Patriarchs lie buried. 
 
 No one has ever doubted that Machpelah is 
 actually at this site, but the building is, of course, 
 not Patriarchal in age. The enclosure is as old as 
 the Wailing Wall at Jerusalem. It belongs to the 
 age of Herod; we see the same cyclopean stones, 
 with the same surface draftings as at Jerusalem. 
 Why Herod built this edifice seems clear. Hebron 
 was the centre of Idumean influence, and Herod 
 was an Idumean. He had a family interest in the 
 place, and hence sought to beautify it. No Jew or 
 Christian can enter the enclosure except by special 
 irade; even Sir Moses Montefiore was refused the 
 privilege. Rather, one should say, the Moslem au 
 thorities wished to let Sir Moses in, but they were 
 prevented by the mob from carrying out their 
 amiable intentions. The late English King Ed 
 ward VII and the present King George V were 
 privileged to enter the structure. Mr. Elkan Ad- 
 ler got in at the time when the Alliance workmen 
 were repairing the gates, but there is nothing to 
 
 89 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 see of any interest. No one within historical times 
 has penetrated below the mosque, to the cavern 
 itself. We still do not know whether it is called 
 Machpelah because the Cave is double vertically 
 or double horizontally. 
 
 The outside is much more interesting than the 
 inside. Half way up the steps leading into the 
 mosque, there is a small hole or window at which 
 many Jews pray, and into which, it is said, all sorts 
 of things, including letters to the Patriarchs, are 
 thrown, especially by women. In the Middle Ages, 
 they spread at this hole a tender calf, some venison 
 pasties, and some red pottage, every day, in honor 
 of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the food was 
 eaten by the poor. It is commonly reported, though 
 I failed to obtain any local confirmation of the 
 assertion, that the Jews still write their names and 
 their requests on strips of paper and thrust them 
 into this hole. The Moslems let down a lamp 
 through the hole, and also cast money into it, 
 which is afterwards picked up by little boys as it is 
 required for the purposes of the mosque and for 
 repairing the numerous tombs of prophets and 
 saints with which Hebron abounds. If you were 
 to believe the local traditions, no corpses were left 
 for other cemeteries. The truth is that much ob- 
 
 90 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 scurity exists as to the identity even of modern 
 tombs, for Hebron preserves its old custom, and 
 none of the Jewish tombs to this day bear epitaphs. 
 What a mass of posthumous hypocrisy would the 
 world be spared if the Hebron custom were preva 
 lent everywhere ! But it is obvious that the method 
 lends itself to inventiveness, and as the tombs are 
 unnamed, local guides tell you anything they choose 
 about them, and you do not believe them even when 
 they are speaking the truth. 
 
 There is only one other fact to tell about the 
 Cave. The Moslems have a curious dread of Isaac 
 and Rebekah, they regard the other Patriarchs as 
 kindly disposed, but Isaac is irritable, and Rebekah 
 malicious. It is told of Ibrahim Pasha of Egypt, 
 he who " feared neither man nor devil," that when 
 he was let down into the Cave by a rope, he sur 
 prised Rebekah in the act of combing her hair. 
 She resented the intrusion, and gave him so severe 
 a box on the ears that he fell down in a fit, and 
 could be rescued alive only with much difficulty. It 
 is with equal difficulty that one can depart, with any 
 reverence left, from the mass of legend and child 
 ishness with which one is crushed in such places. 
 One escapes with the thought of the real Abraham, 
 his glorious service to humanity, his lifelong devo- 
 
 91 
 
A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 tion to the making of souls, to the spread of the 
 knowledge of God. One recalls the Abraham who, 
 in the Jewish tradition, is the type of unselfishness, 
 of watchfulness on behalf of his descendants, the 
 marks of whose genuine relationship to the Patri 
 arch are a generous eye and a humble spirit. As 
 one turns from Hebron, full of such happy memo 
 ries, one forms the resolve not to rely solely on an 
 appeal to the Patriarch s merits, but to strive to do 
 something oneself for the Jewish cause, and thus 
 fulfil the poet s lines, 
 
 Thus shalt thou plant a garden round the tomb, 
 Where golden hopes may flower, and fruits immortal bloom. 
 [Notes, pp, 302-303] 
 
 92 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 In the year 1190, Judah ibn Tibbon, a famous 
 Provengal Jew, who had migrated to Southern 
 France from Granada, wrote in Hebrew as follows 
 to his son : 
 
 " Avoid bad society: make thy books thy com 
 panions. Let thy bookcases and shelves be thy 
 gardens and pleasure grounds. Pluck the fruit that 
 grows therein ; gather the roses, the spices, and the 
 myrrh. If thy soul be satiate and weary, change 
 from garden to garden, from furrow to furrow, 
 from scene to scene. Then shall thy desire renew 
 itself, and thy soul be rich with manifold delight." 
 
 In this beautiful comparison of a library to a 
 garden, there is one point missing. The perfection 
 of enjoyment is reached when the library, or at 
 least a portable part of it, is actually carried into 
 the garden. When Lightfoot was residing at Ash 
 ley (Staffordshire), he followed this course, as we 
 know from a letter of his biographer. " There he 
 built himself a small house in the midst of a garden, 
 containing two rooms below, viz. a study and a 
 
 93 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 withdrawing room, and a lodging chamber above; 
 and there he studied hard, and laid the foundations 
 of his Rabbinic learning, and took great delight, 
 lodging there often, though [quaintly adds John 
 Stype] he was then a married man." Montaigne, 
 whose great-grandfather, be it recalled, was a 
 Spanish Jew, did not possess a library built in the 
 open air, but he had the next best thing. He used 
 the top story of a tower, whence, says he, "I be 
 hold under me my garden." 
 
 In ancient Athens, philosophers thought out 
 their grandest ideas walking up and down their 
 groves. Nature sobers us. " When I behold Thy 
 heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and 
 the stars which Thou hast ordained; what is man 
 that Thou art mindful of him, and the son of man 
 that Thou visitest him?" But if nature sobers, 
 she also consoles. As the Psalmist continues: 
 " Thou hast made him but little lower than the 
 angels, and crownest him with glory and honor. 
 Thou madest him to have dominion over the works 
 of Thy hands; Thou hast put all things under his 
 feet." Face to face with nature, man realizes that 
 he is greater than she. " On earth there is noth 
 ing great but man, in man there is nothing great 
 but mind," So, no doubt, the Athenian sages 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 gained courage as well as modesty from the con 
 tact of mind with nature. And not they only, for 
 our own Jewish treasure, the Mishnah, grew up, if 
 not literally, at least metaphorically, in the open 
 air, in the vineyard of Jamnia. Standing in the 
 sordid little village which to-day occupies the site 
 of ancient Jamnia, with the sea close at hand and 
 the plain of Sharon and the Judean lowlands at my 
 feet, I could see Rabbi Jochanan ben Zakkai and 
 his comrades pacing to and fro, pondering those 
 great thoughts which live among us now, though 
 the authors of them have been in their graves for 
 eighteen centuries. 
 
 It is curious how often this habit of movement 
 goes with thinking. Montaigne says: "Every 
 place of retirement requires a Walk. My thoughts 
 sleep if I sit still; my Fancy does not go by itself, 
 as it goes when my Legs move it." What Mon 
 taigne seems to mean is that we love rhythm. Body 
 and mind must move together in harmony. So it 
 is with the Mohammedan over the Koran, and the 
 Rabbi over the Talmud. Jews sway at prayer for 
 the same reason. Movement of the body is not a 
 mere mannerism ; it is part of the emotion, like the 
 instrumental accompaniment to a song. The child 
 cons his lesson moving; we foolishly call it u fidget- 
 
 95 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 ing." The child is never receptive unless also 
 active. But there is another of Montaigne s feel 
 ings, with which I have no sympathy. He loved to 
 think when on the move, but his walk must be 
 solitary. " Tis here," he says of his library, u I 
 am in my kingdom, and I endeavor to make myself 
 an absolute monarch. So I sequester this one 
 corner from all society conjugal, filial, civil." 
 This is a detestable habit. It is the acme of selfish 
 ness, to shut yourself up with your books. To 
 write over your study door " Let no one enter 
 here ! " is to proclaim your work divorced from 
 life. Montaigne gloried in the inaccessibility of 
 his asylum. His house was perched upon an 
 " overpeering hillock," so that in any part of it 
 still more in the round room of the tower he 
 could " the better seclude myself from company, 
 and keep encroachers from me." Yet some may 
 work best when there are others beside them. 
 From the book the reader turns to the child that 
 prattles near, and realizes how much more the 
 child can ask than the book can answer. The pres 
 ence of the young living soul corrects the vanity of 
 the dead old pedant. Books are most solacing 
 when the limitations of bookish wisdom are per 
 ceived. " Literature," said Matthew Arnold, " is 
 
 96 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 a criticism of life." This is true, despite the objec 
 tions of Saintsbury, but I venture to add that " life 
 is a criticism of literature." 
 
 Now, I am not going to convert a paper on the 
 Solace of Books into a paper in dispraise of books. 
 I shall not be so untrue to my theme. But I give 
 fair warning that I shall make no attempt to scale 
 the height or sound the depth of the intellectual 
 phases of this great subject. I invite my reader 
 only to dally desultorily on the gentler slopes of 
 sentiment. 
 
 One of the most comforting qualities of books 
 has been well expressed by Richard of Bury in his 
 famous Philobiblon, written in 1344. This is an 
 exquisite little volume on the Love of Books, which 
 Mr. Israel Gollancz has now edited in an exquisite 
 edition, attainable for the sum of one shilling. 
 " How safely," says Richard, " we lay bare the 
 poverty of human ignorance to books, without feel 
 ing any shame." 
 
 Then he goes on to describe books as those silent 
 teachers who u instruct us without rods or stripes; 
 without taunts or anger; without gifts or money; 
 who are not asleep when we approach them, and do 
 not deny us when we question them; who do not 
 chide us when we err, or laugh at us if we are 
 ignorant." 
 
 7 97 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 It is Richard of Bury s last phrase that I find so 
 solacing. No one is ever ashamed of turning to a 
 book, but many hesitate to admit their ignorance 
 to an interlocutor. Your dictionary, your encyclo 
 pedia, and your other books, are the recipients of 
 many a silent confession of nescience which you 
 would never dream of making auricular. You go 
 to these " golden pots in which manna is stored," 
 and extract food exactly to your passing taste, with 
 out needing to admit, as Esau did to Jacob, that 
 you are hungry unto death. This comparison of 
 books to food is of itself solacing, for there is al 
 ways something attractive in metaphors drawn 
 from the delights of the table. The metaphor is 
 very old. 
 
 " Open thy mouth," said the Lord to Ezekiel, 
 " and eat that which I give thee. And when I 
 looked, a hand was put forth unto me, and, lo, a 
 
 scroll of a book was therein Then I did 
 
 eat it, and it was in my mouth as honey for sweet 
 ness." 
 
 What a quaint use does Richard of Bury make 
 of this very passage ! Addressing the clergy, he 
 says " Eat the book with Ezekiel, that the belly 
 of your memory may be sweetened within, and 
 thus, as with the panther refreshed, to whose 
 
 98 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 breath all beasts and cattle long to approach, the 
 sweet savor of the spices it has eaten may shed a 
 perfume without." 
 
 Willing enough would I be to devote the whole 
 of my paper to Richard of Bury. I must, however, 
 content myself with one other noble extract, which, 
 I hope, will whet my reader s appetite for more: 
 " Moses, the gentlest of men, teaches us to make 
 bookcases most neatly, wherein they [books] may 
 be protected from any injury. Take, he says, this 
 book of the Law and put it in the side of the Ark of 
 the Covenant of the Lord your God. O fitting 
 place and appropriate for a library, which was 
 made of imperishable shittim [i. e. acacia] wood, 
 and was covered within and without with gold." 
 
 Still we must not push this idea of costly book 
 cases too far. Judah the Pious wrote in the 
 twelfth century, u Books were made for use, not 
 to be hidden away." This reminds me that Rich 
 ard of Bury is not the only medieval book-lover 
 with whom we might spend a pleasant evening. 
 Judah ben Samuel Sir Leon, surnamed the Pious, 
 whom I have just quoted, wrote the " Book of the 
 Pious " in Hebrew, in 1190, and it has many ex 
 cellent paragraphs about books. Judah s subject 
 is, however, the care of books rather than the sol- 
 
 99 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 ace derivable from them. Still, he comes into my 
 theme, for few people can have enjoyed books 
 more than he. He had no selfish love for them ; he 
 not only possessed books, he lent them. He was a 
 very prince of book-lenders, for he did not object 
 if the borrowers of his books re-lent them in their 
 turn. So, on dying, he advised his sons to lend his 
 books even to an enemy (par. 876). " If a father 
 dies," he says elsewhere (par. 919), " and leaves 
 a dog and a book to his sons, one shall not say to 
 the other, You take the dog, and I ll take the 
 book," as though the two were comparable in value. 
 Poor, primitive Judah the Pious ! We wiser mod 
 erns should never dream of making the comparison 
 between a dog and a book, but for the opposite 
 reason. Judah shrank from equalling a book to a 
 dog, but we know better than to undervalue a dog 
 so far as to compare it with a book. The kennel 
 costs more than the bookcase, and love of dogs is a 
 higher solace than love of books. To those who 
 think thus, what more convincing condemnation of 
 books could be formulated than the phrase coined 
 by Gilbert de Porre in praise of his library, " It is 
 a garden of immortal fruits, without dog or 
 dragon." 
 
 I meant to part with Richard of Bury, but I 
 100 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 must ask permission to revert to him. Some of the 
 delight he felt in books arose from his preference 
 of reading to oral intercourse. u The truth in 
 speech perishes with the sound: it is patent to the 
 ear only and eludes the sight: begins and perishes 
 as it were in a breath." Personally I share this 
 view, and I believe firmly that the written word 
 brings more pleasure than the spoken word. 
 
 Plato held the opposite view. He would have 
 agreed with the advice given by Chesterfield to his 
 son, " Lay aside the best book when you can go 
 into the best company depend upon it you change 
 for the better." Plato did, indeed, characterize 
 books as " immortal sons deifying their sires." But, 
 on the opposite side, he has that memorable pas 
 sage, part of which I now quote, from the same 
 source that has supplied several others of my quo 
 tations, Mr. Alexander Ireland s " Book-Lover s 
 Enchiridion." "Writing," says Plato, " has this 
 terrible disadvantage, which puts it on the same 
 footing with painting. The artist s productions 
 stand before you, as if they were alive: but if you 
 ask them anything, they keep a solemn silence. Just 
 so with written discourse : you would fancy it full 
 of the thoughts it speaks: but if you ask it some 
 thing that you want to know about what is said, it 
 
 101 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 looks at you always with the same one sign. And, 
 once committed to writing, discourse is tossed 
 about everywhere indiscriminately, among those 
 who understand and those to whom it is naught, 
 and who cannot select the fit from the unfit." Plato 
 further complains, adds Mr. Martineau, that 
 " Theuth, the inventor of letters, had ruined men s 
 memories and living command of their knowledge, 
 by inducing a lazy trust in records ready to their 
 hand : and he limits the benefit of the liter a script a 
 to the compensation it provides for the failing 
 memory of old age, when reading naturally be 
 comes the great solace of life Plato s tone 
 
 is invariably depreciatory of everything committed 
 to writing, with the exception of laws." 
 
 This wac also the early Rabbinical view, for 
 while the Law might, nay, must, be written, the rest 
 of the tradition was to be orally confided. The 
 oral book was the specialty of the Rabbinical 
 schools. We moderns, who are to the ancients, in 
 Rabbinic phrase, as asses to angels in intellect, can 
 not rely upon oral teaching our memory is too 
 weak to bear the strain. Even when a student at 
 tends an oral lecture, he proves my point, because 
 he takes notes. 
 
 The ideal lies, as usual, in a compromise. Read- 
 102 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 ing profits most when, beside the book, you have 
 some one with whom to talk about the book. If 
 that some one be the author of the book, good; if 
 it be your teacher, better; if it be a fellow-student, 
 better still ; if it be members of your family circle, 
 best of all. The teacher has only succeeded when 
 he feels that his students can do without him, can 
 use their books by themselves and for themselves. 
 But personal intercourse in studies between equals 
 is never obsolete. " Provide thyself with a fellow- 
 student," said the Rabbi. Friendship made over a 
 book is fast, enduring; this friendship is the great 
 solace. How much we Jews have lost in modern 
 times in having given up the old habit of reading 
 good books together in the family circle ! Religious 
 literature thus had a halo of home about it, and the 
 halo never faded throughout life. From the pages 
 of the book in after years the father s loving voice 
 still spoke to his child. But when it comes to the 
 author, I have doubts whether it be at all good to 
 have him near you when you read his book. You 
 may take an unfair advantage of him, and reject 
 his book, because you find the writer personally 
 antipathetic. Or he may take an unfair advantage 
 of you, and control you by his personal fascination. 
 You remember the critic of Demosthenes, who re- 
 
 103 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 marked to him of a certain oration, " When I first 
 read your speech, I was convinced, just as the Athe 
 nians were ; but when I read it again, I saw through 
 its fallacies." " Yes," rejoined Demosthenes, 
 " but the Athenians heard it only once." A book 
 you read more than once: for you possess only 
 what you understand. I do not doubt that the best 
 readers are those who move least in literary circles, 
 who are unprejudiced one way or the other by 
 their personal likes or dislikes of literary men. 
 How detestable are personal paragraphs about 
 authors often, alas ! autobiographical titbits. We 
 expect a little more reticence : we expect the author 
 to say what he has to say in his book, and not in his 
 talks about his book and himself. We expect him 
 to express himself and suppress himself. " Respect 
 the books," says Judah the Pious, " or you show 
 disrespect to the writer." No, not to the writer, but 
 to the soul whose progeny the book is, to the living 
 intellect that bred it, in Milton s noble phrase, to 
 " an Immortality rather than a life." " Many a 
 man," he says, " lives a burden to the earth; but a 
 good book is the precious life-blood of a master 
 spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a 
 life beyond life." 
 
 It is a sober truth that, of the books we chiefly 
 104 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 love, we know least about the authors. Perpe 
 trating probably the only joke in his great Bodleian 
 Catalogue, Dr. Steinschneider enters the Bible 
 under the heading Anonyma. We are nowadays 
 so concerned to know whether Moses or another 
 wrote the Pentateuch, that we neglect the Penta 
 teuch as though no one had ever written it. What 
 do we know about the personality of Shakespeare? 
 Perhaps we are happy in our ignorance. u Some 
 times," said Jonathan Swift, " I read a book with 
 pleasure and detest the author." Most of us would 
 say the same of Jonathan Swift himself, and all of 
 us, I think, share R. L. Stevenson s resentment 
 against a book with the portrait of a living author, 
 and in a heightened degree against an English 
 translation of an ancient Hebrew classic with the 
 translator s portrait. Sometimes such a translator is 
 the author; his rendering, at all events, is not the 
 classic. A certain Fidentinus once stole the work 
 of the Roman poet Martial, and read it out to the 
 assembly as his own; whereupon Martial wrote 
 this epigram, 
 
 The book you read is, Fidentinus, mine, 
 
 Tho read so badly, it well may pass for thine. 
 
 But even apart from such bad taste as the afore 
 mentioned translator s, I do not like to see por- 
 
 105 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 traits of living authors in their books. The author 
 of a good book becomes your intimate, but it is the 
 author as you know him from his book, not as you 
 see him in the flesh or on a silver print. I quote 
 Stevenson again : " When you have read, you carry 
 away with you a memory of the man himself; it is 
 as though you had touched a loyal hand, looked 
 into brave eyes, and made a noble friend; there is 
 another bond on you thenceforward, binding you 
 to life and to the love of virtue." 
 
 This line of thought leads me to the further re 
 mark, that some part of the solace derived from 
 books has changed its character since the art of 
 printing was invented. In former times the per 
 sonality, if not of the author, at all events of the 
 scribe, pressed itself perforce upon the reader. 
 The reader had before him, not necessarily an 
 autograph, but at all events a manuscript. Printing 
 has suppressed this individuality, and the change is 
 not all for the better. The evil consists in this, that 
 whereas of old a book, being handwritten, was 
 clearly recognized as the work of some one s hand, 
 it now assumes, being printed, an impersonal im 
 portance, which may be beyond its deserts. Espe 
 cially is this the case with what we may term re 
 ligious authorities; we are now apt to forget that 
 
 106 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 behind the authority there stands simply the 
 author. It is instructive to contrast the customary 
 method of citing two great codifiers of Jewish law 
 Maimonides and Joseph Caro. Caro lived in 
 the age of printing, and the Shulchan Aruch was 
 the first great Jewish book composed after the 
 printing-press was in operation. The result has 
 been, that the Shulchan Aruch has become an im 
 personal authority, rarely cited by the author s 
 name, while the Mishneh Torah is mostly referred 
 to as the Rambam, i. e. Maimonides. 
 
 For all that, printing has been a gain, even from 
 the point of view at which I have just arrived. Not 
 only has it demolished the barrier which the scribe s 
 personality interposed between author and reader, 
 but, by increasing the number of readers, it has 
 added to the solace of each. For the solace of 
 books is never selfish the book-miser is never the 
 book-lover, nor does the mere collector of rarities 
 and preciosities deserve that name, for the one 
 hoards, but does not own; the other serves Mam 
 mon, not God. The modern cheapening of books 
 the immediate result of printing not only ex 
 tends culture, it intensifies culture. Your joy in a 
 book is truest when the book is cheapest, when you 
 know that it is, or might be, in the hands of thou- 
 
 107 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 sands of others, who go with you in the throng 
 towards the same divine joy. 
 
 These sentiments are clearly those of a Philis 
 tine. The fate of that last word, by the way, is 
 curious. The Philistines, Mr. Macalister dis 
 covered when excavating Gezer, were the only 
 artistic people in Palestine ! Using the term, how 
 ever, in the sense to which Matthew Arnold gave 
 vogue, I am a Philistine in taste, I suppose, for I 
 never can bring myself nowadays to buy a second 
 hand book. For dusty old tomes, I go to the public 
 library; but my own private books must be sweet 
 and clean. There are many who prefer old copies, 
 who revel in the inscribed names of former owners, 
 and prize their marginal annotations. If there be 
 some special sentimental associations connected 
 with these factors, if the books be heirlooms, and 
 the annotations come from a vanished, but beloved, 
 hand, then the old book becomes an old love. But 
 in most cases these things seem to me the defects 
 of youth, not the virtues of age; for they are usu 
 ally too recent to be venerable, though they are 
 just old enough to disfigure. Let my books be 
 young, fresh, and fragrant in their virgin purity, 
 unspotted from the world. If my copy is to be 
 soiled, I want to do all the soiling myself. It is 
 
 108 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 very different with a manuscript, which cannot be 
 too old or too dowdy. These are its graces. Dr. 
 Neubauer once said to me, * I take no interest in a 
 girl who has seen more than seventeen years, nor 
 in a manuscript that has seen less than seven hun 
 dred." Alonzo of Aragon was wont to say in com 
 mendation of age, that " age appeared to be best 
 in four things : old wood to burn ; old wine to drink; 
 old friends to trust; and old authors to read." 
 
 This, however, is not my present point, for I 
 have too much consideration for my readers to 
 attempt to embroil them in the old " battle of the 
 books " that raged round the silly question whether 
 the ancients or the moderns wrote better. I am 
 discussing the age, not of the author, but of the 
 copy. As a critic, as an admirer of old printing, as 
 an archeologist, I feel regard for the editlo prin- 
 ceps, but as a lover I prefer the cheap reprint. Old 
 manuscripts certainly have their charm, but they 
 must have been written at least before the invention 
 of printing. Otherwise a manuscript is an anachro 
 nism it recalls too readily the editorial u declined 
 with thanks." At best, the autograph original of 
 a modern work is a literary curiosity, it reveals the 
 author s mechanism, not his mind. But old manu 
 scripts are in a different case ; their age has increased 
 
 109 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 their charm, mellowed and confirmed their graces, 
 whether they be canonical books, which " defile the 
 hand " in the Rabbinical sense, or Genizah-grimed 
 fragments, which soil the fingers more literally. 
 And when the dust of ages is removed, these old- 
 world relics renew their youth, and stand forth as 
 witnesses to Israel s unshakable devotion to his 
 heritage. 
 
 I have confessed to one Philistine habit; let me 
 plead guilty to another. I prefer to read a book 
 rather than hear a lecture, because in the case of 
 the book I can turn to the last page first. I do like 
 to know before I start whether he marries her in 
 the end or not. You cannot do this with a spoken 
 discourse, for you have to wait the lecturer s pleas 
 ure, and may discover to your chagrin, not only 
 that the end is very long in coming, but that when 
 it does come, it is of such a nature that, had you 
 foreseen it, you would certainly not have been pres 
 ent at the beginning. The real interest of a love 
 story is its process : though you may read the con 
 summation first, you are still anxious as to the 
 course of the courtship. But, in sober earnest, 
 those people err who censure readers for trying to 
 peep at the last page first. For this much-abused 
 habit has a deep significance when applied to life. 
 
 110 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 You will remember the ritual rule, " It is the cus 
 tom of all Israel for the reader of the Scroll of 
 Esther to read and spread out the Scroll like a 
 letter, to make the miracle visible." I remember 
 hearing a sermon just before Purim, in Vienna, and 
 the Jewish preacher gave an admirable homiletic 
 explanation of this rule. He pointed out that in 
 the story of Esther the fate of the Jews has very 
 dark moments, destruction faces them, and hope is 
 remote. But in the end? In the end all goes well. 
 Now, by spreading out the Megillah in folds, dis 
 playing the end with the beginning, " the miracle 
 is made visible." Once Lord Salisbury, when some 
 timid Englishmen regarded the approach of the 
 Russians to India as a menace, told his countrymen 
 to use large-scale maps, for these would convince 
 them that the Russians were not so near India after 
 all. We Jews suffer from the same nervousness. 
 We need to use large-scale charts of human history. 
 We need to read history in centuries, not in years. 
 Then we should see things in their true perspective, 
 with God changeless, as men move down the ring 
 ing grooves of change. We should then be fuller 
 of content and confidence. We might gain a 
 glimpse of the Divine plan, and might perhaps get 
 out of our habit of crying " All is lost " at every 
 
 111 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 passing persecution. As if never before had there 
 been weeping for a night! As if there had not al 
 ways been abounding joy the morning after ! Then 
 let us, like God Himself, try to see the end in the 
 beginning, let us spread out the Scroll, so that the 
 glory of the finish may transfigure and illumine the 
 gloom and sadness of the intermediate course, and 
 thus " the miracle " of God s providential love will 
 be " made visible " to all who have eyes to see it. 
 
 What strikes a real lover of books when he casts 
 his eye over the fine things that have been said 
 about reading, is this : there is too much said about 
 profit, about advantage. " Reading," said Bacon, 
 " maketh a full man," and reading has been justi 
 fied a thousand times on this famous plea. But, 
 some one else, I forget who, says, " You may as 
 well expect to become strong by always eating, as 
 wise by always reading." Herbert Spencer was 
 once blamed by a friend for reading so little. Spen 
 cer replied, " If I read as much as you do, I should 
 know as little as you do." Too many of the eu 
 logies of books are utilitarian. A book has been 
 termed " the home traveller s ship or horse," and 
 libraries, " the wardrobes of literature." Another 
 favorite phrase is Montaigne s, " Tis the best 
 viaticum for this human journey," a phrase paral- 
 
 112 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 leled by the Rabbinic use of the Biblical " proven 
 der for the way." " The aliment of youth, the 
 comfort of old age," so Cicero terms books. u The 
 sick man is not to be pitied when he has his cure in 
 his sleeve " that is where they used to carry their 
 books. But I cannot go through the long list of 
 the beautiful, yet inadequate, similes that abound 
 in the works of great men, many of which can be 
 read in the " Book-Lover s Enchiridion," to which 
 I have already alluded. 
 
 One constant comparison is of books to friends. 
 This is perhaps best worked out in one of the 
 Epistles of Erasmus, which the " Enchiridion " 
 omits: " You want to know what I am doing. I 
 devote myself to my friends, with whom I enjoy 
 the most delightful intercourse. With them I shut 
 myself in some corner, where I avoid the gaping 
 crowd, and either speak to them in sweet whispers, 
 or listen to their gentle voices, talking with them 
 as with myself. Can anything be more convenient 
 than this? They never hide their own secrets, 
 while they keep sacred whatever is entrusted to 
 them. They speak when bidden, and when not 
 bidden they hold their tongue. They talk of what 
 you wish, and as long as you wish; do not flatter, 
 feign nothing, keep back nothing, freely tell you of 
 8 113 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 your faults, and take no man s character away. 
 What they say is either amusing or wholesome. In 
 prosperity they moderate, in affliction they console ; 
 they do not vary with fortune, they follow you in 
 all dangers, and last out to the very grave. Noth 
 ing can be more candid than their relations with 
 one another. I visit them from time to time, now 
 choosing one companion and now another, with 
 perfect impartiality. With these humble friends, 
 I bury myself in seclusion. What wealth or what 
 sceptres would I take in exchange for this tranquil 
 life?" 
 
 Tranquillity is a not unworthy characteristic 
 of the scholar, but, taking Erasmus at his word, 
 would he not have been even a greater man than 
 he was, had he been less tranquil and more strenu 
 ous? His great role in the history of European 
 culture would have been greater still, had he been 
 readier to bear the rubs which come from rough 
 contact with the world. I will not, however, allow 
 myself to be led off into this alluring digression, 
 whether books or experience make a man wiser. 
 Books may simply turn a man into a " learned 
 fool," and, on the other hand, experience may 
 equally fail to teach any of the lessons of wisdom. 
 As Moore says : 
 
 114 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 My only books 
 
 Were woman s looks, 
 
 And folly s all they taught me. 
 
 The so-called men of the world often know little 
 enough of the world of men. It is a delusion 
 to think that the business man is necessarily busi 
 ness-like. Your business man is often the most un- 
 business-like creature imaginable. For practical 
 ability, give me the man of letters. Life among 
 books often leads to insight into the book of life. 
 At Cambridge we speak of the reading men 
 and the sporting men. Sir Richard Jebb, when he 
 went to Cambridge, was asked, " Do you mean to 
 be a sporting man or a reading man? " He re 
 plied, " Neither ! I want to be a man who reads." 
 Marcus Aurelius, the scholar and philosopher, was 
 not the least efficient of the Emperors of Rome. 
 James Martineau was right when he said that the 
 student not only becomes a better man, but he also 
 becomes a better student, when he concerns himself 
 with the practical affairs of life as well as with his 
 books. And the idea cuts both ways. We should 
 be better men of business if we were also men of 
 books. It is not necessary to recall that the ancient 
 Rabbis were not professional bookmen. They were 
 $miths and ploughmen, traders and merchants, and 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 their businesses and their trades were idealized and 
 ennobled and, may we not add, their handiwork 
 improved? by the expenditure of their leisure in 
 the schools and libraries of Jerusalem. 
 
 And so all the foregoing comparisons between 
 books and other objects of utility or delight, charm 
 ing though some of these comparisons are, fail to 
 satisfy one. One feels that the old Jewish concep 
 tion is the only completely true one : that concep 
 tion which came to its climax in the appointment 
 of a benediction to be uttered before beginning to 
 read a book of the Law. 
 
 The real solace of books comes from the sense 
 of service, to be rendered or received; and one 
 must enter that holy of holies, the library, with 
 a grateful benediction on one s lip, and humility 
 and reverence and joy in one s soul. Of all the 
 writers about books, Charles Lamb, in his playful 
 way, comes nearest to this old-world, yet imperish 
 able, ideal of the Jewish sages. He says: " I own 
 that I am disposed to say grace upon twenty other 
 occasions in the course of the day besides my din 
 ner. I want a form for setting out on a pleasant 
 walk, for a midnight ramble, for a friendly meet 
 ing, for a solved problem. Why have we none 
 for books, those spiritual repasts a grace before 
 
 116 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 Milton, a grace before Shakespeare, a devo 
 tional exercise proper to be said before reading the 
 Fairy Queen?" The Jewish ritual could have 
 supplied Lamb with several of these graces. 
 
 It will, I hope, now be seen why in speaking on 
 the solace of books I have said so little about con 
 solation. It pains me to hear books praised as a 
 relief from worldly cares, to hear the library lik 
 ened to an asylum for broken spirits. I have 
 never been an admirer of Boethius. His " Conso 
 lations of Philosophy " have always been influential 
 and popular, but I like better the first famous Eng 
 lish translator than the original Latin author. 
 Boethius wrote in the sixth century as a fallen man, 
 as one to whom philosophy came in lieu of the 
 mundane glory which he had once possessed, and 
 had now lost. But Alfred the Great turned the 
 " Consolations " into English at the moment of his 
 greatest power. He translated it in the year 886, 
 when king on a secure throne ; in his brightest days, 
 when the Danish clouds had cleared. Sorrow has 
 often produced great books, great psalms, to which 
 the sorrowful heart turns for solace. But in the 
 truest sense the Shechinah rests on man only in his 
 joy, when he has so attuned his life that misfor 
 tune is but another name for good fortune. He 
 
 117 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 must have learned to endure before he seeks the 
 solace of communion with the souls of the great, 
 with the soul of God. Very saddening it is to note 
 how often men have turned to books because life 
 has no other good. The real book-lover goes to 
 his books when life is fullest of other joys, when 
 his life is richest in its manifold happiness. Then 
 he adds the crown of joy to his other joys, and 
 finds the highest happiness. 
 
 I do not like to think of the circumstances under 
 which Sir Thomas Bodley went to Oxford to found 
 his famous library. Not till his diplomatic career 
 was a failure, not till Elizabeth s smiles had dark 
 ened into frowns, did he set up his staff at the 
 library door. But Bodley rather mistook himself. 
 As a lad the library had been his joy, and when he 
 was abroad, at the summit of his public fame, he 
 turned his diplomatic missions to account by col 
 lecting books and laying the foundation of his 
 future munificence. I even think that no lover of 
 books ever loved them so well in his adversity as in 
 his prosperity. Another view was held by Don 
 Isaac Abarbanel, the famous Jewish statesman and 
 litterateur. Under Alfonso V, of Portugal, and other 
 rulers, he attained high place, but was brought 
 low by the Inquisition, and shared in the expulsion 
 
 118 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 of his brethren. He writes in one of his letters: 
 " The whole time I lived in the courts and palaces 
 of kings, occupied in their service, I had no leisure 
 to read or write books. My days were spent in 
 vain ambitions, seeking after wealth and honor. 
 Now that my wealth is gone, and honor has become 
 exiled from Israel ; now that I am a vagabond and 
 a wanderer on the earth, and I have no money: 
 now, I have returned to seek the book of God, as it 
 is said, ^np om KIDHO mon, He is in sore need, 
 therefore he studies. 
 
 This is witty, but it is not wise. Fortunately, it 
 is not quite true; Abarbanel does little justice to 
 himself in this passage, for elsewhere (in the pref 
 ace to his Commentary on Kings) he draws a 
 very different picture of his life in his brilliant court 
 days. " My house," he says, " was an assembly 
 place for the wise .... in my abode and within 
 my walls were wealth and fame for the Torah and 
 for those made great in its lore." Naturally, the 
 active statesman had less leisure for his books than 
 the exiled, fallen minister. 
 
 So, too, with an earlier Jewish writer, Saadia. 
 No sadder title was ever chosen for a work than 
 his Sefer ha-Galui " Book of the Exiled." It is 
 beyond our province to enter into his career, full 
 
 119 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 of stress and storm. Betwen 933 and 937, driven 
 from power, he retired to his library at Bagdad, 
 just as Cincinnatus withdrew to his farm when. 
 Rome no longer needed him. During his retire 
 ment Saadia s best books were written. Why? 
 Graetz tells us that " Saadia was still under the 
 ban of excommunication. He had, therefore, no 
 other sphere of action than that of an author." 
 This is pitiful; but, again, it is not altogether true. 
 Saadia s whole career was that of active author 
 ship, when in power and out of power, as a boy, in 
 middle life, in age : his constant thought was the 
 service of truth, in so far as literature can serve it, 
 and one may well think that he felt that the Crown 
 of the Law was better worth wearing in prosperity, 
 when he chose it out of other crowns, than in ad 
 versity, when it was the only crown within his 
 reach. It was thus that King Solomon chose. 
 
 So, in speaking of the solace of books, I have 
 ventured to employ " solace " in an old, unusual 
 sense. " Solace " has many meanings. It means 
 " comfort in sorrow," and in Scotch law it denotes 
 a compensation for wounded feelings, solatium, 
 moral and intellectual damages in short. But in 
 Chaucer and Spenser, " solace " is sometimes used 
 as a synonym for joy and sweet exhilaration. This 
 
 120 
 
THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 is an obsolete use, but let me hope that the thing is 
 not obsolete. For one must go to his books for 
 solace, not in mourning garb, but in gayest attire 
 to a wedding, not to a funeral. When John Clare 
 wrote, 
 
 I read in books for happiness, 
 But books mistake the way to joy, 
 
 he read for what he ought to have brought, and 
 thus he failed to find his goal. The library has been 
 beautifully termed the " bridal chamber of the 
 mind." So, too, the Apocrypha puts it in the 
 Wisdom of Solomon : 
 
 Wisdom is radiant 
 
 Her I loved and sought out from my youth, 
 And I sought to take her for my bride, 
 And I became enamored of her beauty. 
 
 When I am come into my house, I shall find rest with her, 
 For converse with her hath no bitterness, 
 And to live with her hath no pain. 
 
 O God of the fathers, .... 
 
 Give me wisdom, that sitteth by Thee on Thy throne. 
 [Notes, pp. 303-304] 
 
 121 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 Men leave their homes because they must, or be 
 cause they will. The Hebrew has experienced 
 both motives for travelling. Irresistibly driven on 
 by his own destiny and by the pressure of his fel 
 low-men, the Jew was also gifted with a double 
 share of that curiosity and restlessness which often 
 send men forth of their own free will on long and 
 arduous journeys. He has thus played the part of 
 the Wandering Jew from choice and from neces 
 sity. He loved to live in the whole world, and the 
 whole world met him by refusing him a single spot 
 that he might call his very own. 
 
 Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, 
 How shall ye flee away and be at rest ! 
 The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox her cave, 
 Mankind their country, Israel but the grave ! 
 
 A sad chapter of medieval history is filled with the 
 enforced wanderings of the sons of Israel. The 
 lawgiver prophesied well, " There shall be no rest 
 for the sole of thy foot." But we are not concerned 
 here with the victim of expulsion and persecution. 
 
 122 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 The wayfarer with whom we shall deal is the 
 traveller, and not the exile. He was moved by no 
 caprice but his own. He will excite our admira 
 tion, perhaps our sympathy, only rarely our tears. 
 
 My subject, be it remembered, is not wayfarers, 
 but wayfaring. Hence I am to tell you not the 
 story of particular travellers, but the manner of 
 their travelling, the conditions under which they 
 moved. Before leaving home, a Jewish wayfarer 
 of the Middle Ages was bound to procure two 
 kinds of passport. In no country in those days was 
 freedom of motion allowed to anyone. The Jew 
 was simply a little more hampered than others. In 
 England, the Jew paid a feudal fine before he 
 might cross the seas. In Spain, the system of ex 
 actions was very complete. No Jew could change 
 his residence without a license even within his own 
 town. But in addition to the inflictions of the Gov 
 ernment, the Jews enacted voluntary laws of their 
 own, forcing their brethren to obtain a congrega 
 tional permit before starting. 
 
 The reasons for this restriction were simple. In 
 the first place, no Jew could be allowed to depart 
 at will, and leave the whole burden of the royal 
 taxes on the shoulders of those who were left be 
 hind. Hence, in many parts of Europe and Asia, 
 
 123 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 no Jew could leave without the express consent of 
 the congregation. Even when he received the con 
 sent, it was usually on the understanding that he 
 would continue, in his absence, to pay his share of 
 the communal dues. Sometimes even women were 
 included in this law, as, for instance, if the daughter 
 of a resident Jew married and settled elsewhere, 
 she was forced to contribute to the taxes of her 
 native town a sum proportionate to her dowry, un 
 less she emigrated to Palestine, in which case she 
 was free. A further cause why Jews placed re 
 strictions on free movement was moral and com 
 mercial. Announcements had to be made in the 
 synagogue informing the congregation that so-and- 
 so was on the point of departure, and anyone with 
 claims against him could obtain satisfaction. No 
 clandestine or unauthorized departure was permis 
 sible. It must not be thought that these communal 
 licenses were of no service to the traveller. On the 
 contrary, they often assured him a welcome in the 
 next town, and in Persia were as good as a safe- 
 conduct. No Mohammedan would have dared 
 defy the travelling order sealed by the Jewish 
 Patriarch. 
 
 Having obtained his two licenses, one from the 
 Government and the other from the Synagogue, the 
 
 124 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 traveller would have to consider his costume. 
 " Dress shabbily " was the general Jewish maxim 
 for the tourist. How necessary this rule was, may 
 be seen from what happened to Rabbi Petachiah, 
 who travelled from Prague to Nineveh, in 1175, or 
 thereabouts. At Nineveh he fell sick, and the 
 king s physicians attended him and pronounced his 
 death certain. Now Petachiah had travelled in 
 most costly attire, and in Persia the rule was that 
 if a Jewish traveller died, the physicians took half 
 his property. Petachiah saw through the real dan 
 ger that threatened him, so he escaped from the 
 perilous ministrations of the royal doctors, had 
 himself carried across the Tigris on a raft, and soon 
 recovered. Clearly, it was imprudent of a Jewish 
 traveller to excite the rapacity of kings or bandits 
 by wearing rich dresses. But it was also desirable 
 for the Jew, if he could, to evade recognition as 
 such altogether. Jewish opinion was very sensible 
 on this head. It did not forbid a Jew s disguising 
 himself even as a priest of the Church, joining a 
 caravan, and mumbling Latin hymns. In times of 
 danger, he might, to save his life, don the turban 
 and pass as a Mohammedan even in his home. 
 Most remarkable concession of all, the Jewess on 
 a journey might wear the dress of a man. The law 
 
 125 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 of the land was equally open to reason. In Spain, 
 the Jew was allowed to discard his yellow badge 
 while travelling; in Germany, he had the same 
 privilege, but he had to pay a premium for it. In 
 some parts, the Jewish community as a whole 
 bought the right to travel and to discard the badge 
 on journeys, paying a lump sum for the general 
 privilege, and itself exacting a communal tax 
 to defray the general cost. In Rome, the traveller 
 was allowed to lodge for ten days before resuming 
 his hated badge. But, curiously enough, the legal 
 relaxation concerning the badge was not extended 
 to the markets. The Jew made the medieval mar 
 kets, yet he was treated as an unwelcome guest, a 
 commodity to be taxed. This was especially so in 
 Germany. In 1226, Bishop Lorenz, of Breslau, 
 ordered Jews who passed through his domain to 
 pay the same toll as slaves brought to market. The 
 visiting Jew paid toll for everything; but he got 
 part of his money back. He received a yellow 
 badge, which he was forced to wear during his 
 whole stay at the market, the finances of which he 
 enriched, indirectly by his trade, and directly by 
 his huge contributions to the local taxes. 
 
 The Jewish traveller mostly left his wife at 
 home, In certain circumstances he could force her 
 
 126 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 to go with him, as, for instance, if he had resolved 
 to settle in Palestine. On the other hand, the wife 
 could prevent her husband from leaving her dur 
 ing the first year after marriage. It also happened 
 that families emigrated together. Mostly, however, 
 the Jewess remained at home, and only rarely did 
 she join even the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. This is 
 a striking contrast to the Christian custom, for it 
 was the Christian wjpman that was the most ardent 
 pilgrim ; in fact, pilgrimages to the Holy Land only 
 became popular in Church circles because of the en 
 thusiasm of Helena, mother of Constantine the 
 Great, especially when, in 326, she found the true 
 cross. We, however, read of an aged Jewess who 
 made a pilgrimage to all the cities of Europe, for 
 the purpose of praying in the synagogues on her 
 route. 
 
 We now know, from the Chronicle of Achimaaz, 
 that Jews visited Jerusalem in the tenth century. 
 Aronius records a curious incident. Charles the 
 Great, between the years 787 and 813, ordered a 
 Jewish merchant, who often used to visit Palestine 
 and bring precious and unknown commodities 
 thence to the West, to hoax the Archbishop of 
 Mainz, so as to lower the self-conceit of this vain 
 dilettante. The Jew thereupon sold him a mouse 
 
 127 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 at a high price, persuading him that it was a rare 
 animal, which he had brought with him from 
 Judea. Early in the eleventh century there was a 
 fully organized Jewish community with a Beth- 
 Din at Ramleh, some four hours drive from 
 Jaffa. But Jews did not visit Palestine in large 
 numbers, until Saladin finally regained the Holy 
 City for Mohammedan rule, towards the end of 
 the twelfth century. From that time pilgrimages 
 of Jews became more frequent; but the real influx 
 of Jews into Palestine dates from 1492, when many 
 of the Spanish exiles settled there, and formed the 
 nucleus of the present Sefardic population. 
 
 On the whole, it may be said that in the Middle 
 Ages the journey to Palestine was fraught with so 
 much danger that it was gallantry that induced men 
 to go mostly without their wives. And, generally 
 speaking, the Jew going abroad to earn a living for 
 his family, could not dream of allowing his wife to 
 share the dangers and fatigues of the way. In 
 Ellul, 1146, Rabbi Simeon the Pious returned from 
 England, where he had lived many years, and be 
 took himself to Cologne, thence to take ship home 
 to Trier. On the way, near Cologne, he was slain 
 by Crusaders, because he refused baptism. The 
 Jewish community of Cologne bought the body 
 
 128 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 from the citizens, and buried it in the Jewish ceme 
 tery. 
 
 No doubt it was often a cruel necessity that sep 
 arated husband and wife. The Jewish law, even 
 in lands where monogamy was not legally enforced, 
 did not allow the Jew, however, to console himself 
 with one wife at home and another abroad. Jo- 
 sephus, we know, had one wife in Tiberias and an 
 other in Alexandria, and the same thing is told us 
 of royal officers in the Roman period; but the Tal- 
 mudic legislation absolutely forbids such license, 
 even though it did not formally prohibit a man 
 from having more than one wife at home. We 
 hear occasionally of the wife s growing restive in 
 her husband s absence and taking another husband. 
 In 1272, Isaac of Erfurt went on a trading jour 
 ney, and though he was only gone from March 9, 
 1271, to July, 1272, he found, on his return, that 
 his wife had wearied of waiting for him. Such in 
 cidents on the side of the wife were very rare; the 
 number of cases in which wife-desertion occurred 
 was larger. In her husband s absence, the wife s 
 lot, at best, was not happy. " Come back," wrote 
 one wife, " or send me a divorce." " Nay," re 
 plied the husband, " I can do neither. I have not 
 yet made enough provision for us, so I cannot re- 
 9 129 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 turn. And, before Heaven, I love you, so I cannot 
 divorce you." The Rabbi advised that he should 
 give her a conditional divorce, a kindly device, 
 which provided that, in case the husband remained 
 away beyond a fixed date, the wife was free to make 
 other matrimonial arrangements. The Rabbis 
 held that travelling diminishes family life, prop 
 erty, and reputation. Move from house to house, 
 and you lose a shirt; go from place to place, and 
 you lose a life so ran the Rabbinic proverb. This 
 subject might be enlarged upon, but enough has 
 been said to show that this breaking up of the 
 family life was one of the worst effects of the Jew 
 ish travels of the Middle Ages, and even more re 
 cent times. 
 
 Whether his journey was devotional or com 
 mercial, the rites of religion formed part of the 
 traveller s preparations for the start. The Prayer 
 for Wayfarers is Talmudic in origin. It may be 
 found in many prayer books, and I need not quote 
 it. But one part of it puts so well, in a few preg 
 nant words, the whole story of danger, that I must 
 reproduce them. On approaching a town, the Jew 
 prayed, " May it be Thy will, O Lord, to bring 
 me safely to this town." When he had entered, he 
 prayed, " May it be Thy will, O Lord, to take 
 
 130 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 me safely from this town." And when he actually 
 left, he uttered similar words, pathetic and pain 
 fully significant. 
 
 In the first century of the Christian era, much 
 travelling was entailed by the conveyance of the 
 didrachmon, sent by each Jew to the Temple from 
 almost every part of the known world. Philo 
 says of the Jews beyond the Euphrates: " Every 
 year the sacred messengers are sent to convey large 
 sums of gold and silver to the Temple, which have 
 been collected from all the subordinate Govern 
 ments. They travel over rugged and difficult and 
 almost impassable roads, which, however, they 
 look upon as level and easy, inasmuch as they serve 
 to conduct them to piety." And the road was 
 made easy in other ways. 
 
 It must often have been shortened to the imagi 
 nation by the prevalent belief that by supernatural 
 aid the miles could be actually lessened. Rabbi 
 Natronai was reported to be able to convey himself 
 a several days journey in a single instant. So Ben 
 jamin of Tudela tells how Alroy, who claimed to 
 be the Messiah in the twelfth century, not only 
 could make himself visible or invisible at will, but 
 could cross rivers on his turban, and, by the aid of 
 the Divine Name, could travel a ten days journey 
 
 131 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 in ten hours. Another Jewish traveller calmed 
 the sea by naming God, another by writing the 
 sacred Name on a shard, and casting it into the 
 sea. " Have no care," said he, on another occa 
 sion, to his Arab comrade, as the shadows fell on 
 a Friday afternoon, and they were still far from 
 home, " have no care, we shall arrive before night 
 fall," and, exercising his wonderworking powers, 
 he was as good as his word. We read in Achi- 
 maaz of the exploits of a tenth-century Jew who 
 traversed Italy, working wonders, being received 
 everywhere with popular acclamations. This was 
 Aaron of Bagdad, son of a miller, who, finding that 
 a lion had eaten the mill-mule, caught the lion and 
 made him do the grinding. His father sent him on 
 his travels as a penalty for his dealings with magic : 
 after three years he might return. He went on 
 board a ship, and assured the sailors that they need 
 fear neither foe nor storm, for he could use the 
 Name. He landed at Gaeta in Italy, where he 
 restored to human form the son of his host, whom 
 a witch had turned into an ass. This was the be 
 ginning of many miracles. But he did not allow 
 one place to monopolize him. Next we find him 
 in Benvenuto. He goes to the synagogue, recog 
 nizes that a lad omits the name of God from his 
 
 132 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 prayer, thus showing that he is dead ! He goes to 
 Oria, then to Bari, and so forth. Similar marvels 
 were told in the Midrash, of travellers like Father 
 Jacob, and in the lives of Christian saints. 
 
 But the Jew had a real means of shortening the 
 way by profitable and edifying conversation. 
 " Do not travel with an Am ha-Arez," the olden 
 Rabbis advised. Such a one, they held, was care 
 less of his own safety, and would hardly be more 
 careful of his companion s life. But, besides, an 
 Am ha-Arez, using the word in its later sense of 
 ignoramus, would be too dull for edifying conver 
 sation, and one might as well or as ill journey 
 alone as with a boor. But " thou shalt speak of 
 them by the way," says Deuteronomy of the com 
 mandments, and this (to say nothing of the dan 
 ger) was one of the reasons why solitary travelling 
 was disapproved. A man walking alone was more 
 likely to turn his mind to idle thoughts, than if he 
 had a congenial partner to converse with, and the 
 Mishnah is severe against him who turns aside 
 from his peripatetic study to admire a tree or a 
 fallow. This does not imply that the Jews were 
 indifferent to the beauties of nature. Jewish travel 
 lers often describe the scenery of the parts they 
 visit, and Petachiah literally revels in the beautiful 
 
 133 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 gardens of Persia, which he paints in vivid colors. 
 Then, again, few better descriptions of a storm at 
 sea have been written than those composed by 
 Jehudah Halevi on his fatal voyage to Palestine. 
 Similarly, Charizi, another Jewish wayfarer, who 
 laughed himself over half the world, wrote verses 
 as he w r alked, to relieve the tedium. He is perhaps 
 the most entertaining of all Jewish travellers. 
 Nothing is more amusing than his conscious habit 
 of judging the characters of the men he saw by their 
 hospitality, or the reverse, to himself. A more 
 serious traveller, Maimonides, must have done a 
 good deal of thinking on horseback, to get through 
 his ordinary day s work and write his great books. 
 In fact, he himself informs us that he composed 
 part of his Commentary to the Mishnah while jour 
 neying by land and sea. In Europe, the Rabbis 
 often had several neighboring congregations under 
 their care, and on their journeys to and fro took 
 their books with them, and read in them at inter 
 vals. Maharil, on such journeys, always took note 
 of the Jewish customs observed in different locali 
 ties. He was also a most skilful and successful 
 Shadchan, or marriage -broker, and his extensive 
 travels placed this famous Rabbi in an excellent 
 position for match-making. Certainly, the mar- 
 
 134 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 riages he effected were notoriously prosperous, and 
 in his hands the Shadchan system did the most good 
 and the least harm of which it is capable. 
 
 Another type of short-distance traveller was the 
 Bachur, or student. Not that his journeys were 
 always short, but he rarely crossed the sea. In the 
 second century we find Jewish students in Galilee 
 behaving as many Scotch youths did before the 
 days of Carnegie funds. These students would 
 study in Sepphoris in the winter, and work in the 
 fields in summer. After the impoverishment 
 caused by the Bar-Cochba war, the students were 
 glad to dine at the table of the wealthy Patriarch 
 Judah I. In the medieval period there were also 
 such. These Bachurim, who, young as they were, 
 were often married, accomplished enormous jour 
 neys on foot. They walked from the Rhine to 
 Vienna, and from North Germany to Italy. Their 
 privations on the road were indescribable. Bad 
 weather was naturally a severe trial. " Hearken 
 not to the prayers of wayfarers," was the petition 
 of those who stayed at home. This quaint Tal- 
 mudic saying refers to the selfishness of travellers, 
 who always clamor for fine weather, though the 
 farmer needs rain. Apart from the weather, the 
 Bachurim suffered much on the road. Their ordi- 
 
 135 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 nary food was raw vegetables culled from the 
 fields; they drank nothing but water. They were 
 often accompanied by their teachers, who under 
 went the same privations. Unlike their Talmudi- 
 cal precursors, they travelled much by night, be 
 cause it was safer, and also because they reserved 
 the daylight for study. The dietary laws make 
 Jewish travelling particularly irksome. We do, 
 indeed, find Jews lodging at the ordinary inns, but 
 they could not join the general company at the 
 table d hote. The Sabbath, too, was the cause of 
 some discomfort, though the traveller always ex 
 erted his utmost efforts to reach a Jewish congre- 
 tion by Friday evening, sometimes, as we have 
 seen, with supernatural aid. 
 
 We must interrupt this account of the Bachur to 
 record a much earlier instance of the awkward 
 situation in which a pious Jewish traveller might 
 find himself because of the Sabbath regulations. 
 In the very last year of the fourth century, Syne- 
 sius, of Cyrene, writing to his brother of his voy 
 age from Alexandria to Constantinople, supplies 
 us with a quaint instance of the manner in which 
 the Sabbath affected Jewish travellers. Synesius 
 uses a sarcastic tone, which must not be taken as 
 seriously unfriendly. " His voyage homeward," 
 
 136 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 says Mr. Glover, " was adventurous." It is a pity 
 that space cannot be found for a full citation of 
 Synesius s enthralling narrative. His Jewish steers 
 man is an entertaining character. There were 
 twelve members in the crew, the steersman making 
 the thirteenth. More than half, including the 
 steersman, were Jews. " It was," says Syncsius, 
 " the day which the Jews call the Preparation 
 [Friday], and they reckon the night to the next 
 day, on which they are not allowed to do any work, 
 but they pay it especial honor, and rest on it. So 
 the steersman let go the helm from his hands, 
 when he thought the sun would have set on the 
 land, and threw himself down, and * What mari 
 ner should choose might trample him ! We did 
 not at first understand the real reason, but took it 
 for despair, and went to him and besought him not 
 to give up all hope yet. For in plain fact the big 
 rollers still kept on, and the sea was at issue with 
 itself. It does this when the wind falls, and the 
 waves it has set going do not fall with it, but, still 
 retaining in full force the impulse that started 
 them, meet the onset of the gale, and to its front 
 oppose their own. Well, when people are sailing 
 in such circumstances, life hangs, as they say, by a 
 slender thread. But if the steersman is a Rabbi 
 
 137 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 into the bargain, what are one s feelings? When, 
 then, we understood what he meant in leaving the 
 helm, for when we begged him to save the ship 
 from danger, he went on reading his book, we 
 despaired of persuasion, and tried force. And a 
 gallant soldier (for we have with us a good few 
 Arabians, who belong to the cavalry) drew his 
 sword, and threatened to cut his head off, if he 
 would not steer the ship. But in a moment he was 
 a genuine Maccabee, and would stick to his dogma. 
 Yet when it was now midnight, he took his place 
 of his own accord, for now/ says he, the law 
 allows me, as we are clearly in danger of our 
 lives. At that the tumult begins again, moaning 
 of men and screaming of women. Everybody be 
 gan calling on Heaven, and wailing and remem 
 bering their dear ones. Amarantus alone was 
 cheerful, thinking he was on the point of ruling 
 out his creditors." Amarantus was the captain, 
 who wished to die, because he was deep in debt. 
 What with the devil-may-care captain, the Macca- 
 bean steersman, and the critical onlooker, who was 
 a devoted admirer of Hypatia, rarely has wayfar 
 ing been conducted under more delightful condi 
 tions. As is often the case in life, the humors of 
 the scene almost obscure the fact that the lives of 
 
 138 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 the actors were in real danger. But all ended well. 
 " As for us," says Synesius further on, " as soon 
 as we reached the land we longed for, we embraced 
 it as if it had been a living mother. Offering, as 
 usual, a hymn of gratitude to God, I added to it 
 the recent misadventure from which we had unex 
 pectedly been saved." 
 
 To return to our travelling Bachur of later cen 
 turies than Synesius s Rabbi-steersman. On the 
 road, the student was often attacked, but, as hap 
 pened with the son of the great Asheri, who was 
 waylaid by bandits near Toledo, the robbers did 
 not always get the best of the fight. The Bachur 
 could take his own part. One Jew gained much 
 notoriety in 80 1 by conducting an elephant all the 
 way from Haroun al-Rashid s court as a present 
 to Charlemagne, the king of the Franks. But the 
 Rabbi suffered considerably from his religion on 
 his journeys. Dr. Schechter tells us how the Gaon 
 Elijah got out of his carriage to say his prayer, 
 and, as the driver knew that the Rabbi w r ould not 
 interrupt his devotions, he promptly made off, 
 carrying away the Gaon s property. 
 
 But the account was not all on one side. If the 
 Bachur suffered for his religion, he received ample 
 compensation. When he arrived at his destina- 
 
 139 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 tion, he was welcomed right heartily. We read 
 how cordially the Sheliach Kolel was received in 
 Algiers in the fifteenth to eighteenth centuries. It 
 was a great popular event, as is nowadays the visit 
 of the Alliance inspector. This was not the case 
 with all Jewish travellers, some of whom received 
 a very cold shoulder from their brethren. Why 
 was this? Chiefly because the Jews, as little as 
 the rest of medieval peoples, realized that progress 
 and enlightenment are indissolubly bound up with 
 the right of free movement. They regarded the 
 right to move here and there at will as a selfish 
 privilege of the few, not the just right of all. But 
 more than that. The Jews were forced to live in 
 special and limited Ghettos. It was not easy to 
 find room for newcomers. When a crisis arrived, 
 such as the expulsion of the Jews from Spain, then, 
 except here and there, the Jews were generous to a 
 fault in providing for the exiles. Societies all over 
 the Continent and round the coast of the Mediter 
 ranean spent their time and money in ransoming 
 the poor victims, who, driven from Spain, were 
 enslaved by the captains of the vessels that carried 
 them, and were then bought back to freedom by 
 their Jewish brethren. 
 
 This is a noble fact in Jewish history. But it is 
 140 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 nevertheless true that Jewish communities were 
 reluctant in ordinary times to permit new settle 
 ments. This was not so in ancient times. Among 
 the Essenes, a newcomer had a perfectly equal 
 right to share everything with the old inhabitants. 
 These Essenes were great travellers, going from 
 city to city, probably with propagandist aims. In 
 the Talmudic law there are very clear rules on the 
 subject of passers through a town or immigrants 
 into it. By that law persons staying in a place for 
 less than thirty days were free from all local dues 
 except special collections for the poor. He who 
 stayed less than a year contributed to the ordinary 
 poor relief, but was not taxed for permanent ob 
 jects, such as walling the town, defences, etc., nor 
 did he contribute to the salaries of teachers and 
 officials, nor the building and support of syna 
 gogues. But as his duties were small, so were his 
 rights. After a twelve months stay he became a 
 " son of the city," a full member of the commun 
 ity. But in the Middle Ages, newcomers, as al 
 ready said, were not generally welcome. The ques 
 tion of space was one important reason, for all 
 newcomers had to stay in the Ghetto. Secondly, 
 the newcomer was not amenable to discipline. 
 Local custom varied much in the details both of 
 
 141 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 Jewish and general law. The new settler might 
 claim to retain his old customs, and the regard for 
 local custom was so strong that the claim was often 
 allowed, to the destruction of uniformity and the 
 undermining of authority. To give an instance or 
 two: A newcomer would insist that, as he might 
 play cards in his native town, he ought not to be 
 expected to obey puritanical restrictions in the 
 place to which he came. The result was that the 
 resident Jews would clamor against foreigners 
 enjoying special privileges, as in this way all at 
 tempts to control gambling might be defeated. Or 
 the newcomer would claim to shave his beard in 
 accordance with his home custom, but to the scan 
 dal of the town which he was visiting. The native 
 young men would imitate the foreigner, and then 
 there would be trouble. Or the settler would as 
 sert his right to wear colors and fashions and jew 
 elry forbidden to native Jews. Again, the mar 
 riage problem was complicated by the arrival of 
 insinuating strangers, who turned out to be mar 
 ried men masquerading as bachelors. Then as to 
 public worship the congregation was often split 
 into fragments by the independent services organ 
 ized by foreign groups, and it would become neces 
 sary to prohibit its own members from attending 
 
 142 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 the synagogues of foreign settlers. Then as to 
 communal taxes : these were fixed annually on the 
 basis of the population, and the arrival of new 
 comers seriously disturbed the equilibrium, led to 
 fresh exactions by the Government, which it was by 
 no means certain the new settlers could or would 
 pay, and which, therefore, fell on the shoulders of 
 the old residents. 
 
 When we consider all these facts, we can see that 
 the eagerness of the medieval Jews to control the 
 influx of foreign settlers was only in part the result 
 of base motives. And, of course, the exclusion was 
 not permanent or rigid. In Rome, the Sefardic 
 and the Italian Jews fraternally placed their syna 
 gogues on different floors of the same building. In 
 some German towns, the foreign synagogue was 
 fixed in the same courtyard as the native. Every 
 where foreign Jews abounded, and everywhere a 
 generous welcome awaited the genuine traveller. 
 
 As to the travelling beggar, he was a perpetual 
 nuisance. Yet he was treated with much consid 
 eration. The policy with regard to him was, 
 " Send the beggar further," and this suited the 
 tramp, too. He did not wish to settle, he wished 
 to move on. He would be lodged for two days in 
 the communal inn, or if, as usually happened, he 
 
 143 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 arrived on Friday evening, he would be billeted on 
 some hospitable member, or the Shamash would 
 look after him at the public expense. It is not till 
 the thirteenth century that we meet regular envoys 
 sent from Palestine to collect money. 
 
 The genuine traveller, however, was an ever- 
 welcome guest. If he came at fair time, his way 
 was smoothed for him. The Jew who visited the 
 fair was only rarely charged local taxes by the 
 Synagogue. He deserved a welcome, for he not 
 only brought wares to sell, but he came laden with 
 new books. The fair was the only book-market. 
 At other times the Jews were dependent on the 
 casual visits of travelling venders of volumes. 
 Book-selling does not seem to have been a settled 
 occupation in the Middle Ages. The merchant 
 who came to the fair also fulfilled another function 
 that of Shadchan. The day of the fair was, in 
 fact, the crisis of the year. Naturally, the letter- 
 carrier was eagerly received. In the early part of 
 the eighteenth century the function of conveying 
 the post was sometimes filled by Jewesses. 
 
 Even the ordinary traveller, who had no busi 
 ness to transact, would often choose fair time for 
 visiting new places, for he would be sure to meet 
 interesting people then. He, too, would mostly 
 
 144 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 arrive on a Friday evening, and would beguile the 
 Sabbath with reports of the wonders he had seen. 
 In the great synagogue of Sepphoris, Jochanan was 
 discoursing of the great pearl, so gigantic in size 
 that the Eastern gates of the Temple were to be 
 built of the single gem. " Ay, ay," assented an 
 auditor, who had been a notorious skeptic until he 
 had become a shipwrecked sailor, " had not mine 
 own eyes beheld such a pearl in the ocean-bed, I 
 should not have believed it. 5 And so the medieval 
 traveller would tell his enthralling tales. He would 
 speak of a mighty Jewish kingdom in the East, 
 existing in idyllic peace and prosperity; he would 
 excite his auditors with news of the latest Messiah ; 
 he would describe the river Sambatyon, which 
 keeps the Sabbath, and, mingling truth with fiction, 
 with one breath would truly relate how he crossed a 
 river on an inflated skin, and with the next breath 
 romance about Hillel s tomb, how he had been 
 there, and how he had seen a large hollow stone, 
 which remains empty if a bad fellow enters, but at 
 the approach of a pious visitor fills up with sweet, 
 pure water, with which he washes, uttering a wish 
 at the same time, sure that it will come true. It 
 is impossible even to hint at all the wonders of 
 the tombs. Jews were ardent believers in the 
 10 145 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 supernatural power of sepulchres; they made pil 
 grimages to them to pray and to beg favors. Jew 
 ish travellers tales of the Middle Ages are heavily 
 laden with these legends. Of course, the traveller 
 would also bring genuine news about his brethren 
 in distant parts, and sober information about for 
 eign countries, their ways, their physical conforma 
 tion, and their strange birds and beasts. These 
 stories were in the main true. For instance, Pe- 
 tachiah tells of a flying camel, which runs fifteen 
 times as fast as the fleetest horse. He must have 
 seen an ostrich, which is still called the flying camel 
 by Arabs. But we cannot linger over this matter. 
 Suffice it to say that, as soon as Sabbath was over, 
 the traveller s narrative would be written out by 
 the local scribe, and treasured as one of the com 
 munal prizes. The traveller, on his part, often 
 kept a diary, and himself compiled a description 
 of his adventures. In some congregations there 
 was kept a Communal Note-Book, in which were 
 entered decisions brought by visiting Rabbis from 
 other communities. 
 
 The most welcome of guests, even more wel 
 come than long-distance travellers, or globe-trot 
 ters, were the Bachurim and travelling Rabbis. 
 The Talmudic Rabbis were most of them travel- 
 
 146 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 lers. Akiba s extensive journeys were, some think, 
 designed to rouse the Jews of Asia Minor gen 
 erally to participate in the insurrection against Ha 
 drian. But my narrative must be at this point 
 confined to the medieval students. For the Bachu- 
 rim, or students, there was a special house in many 
 communities, and they lived together with their 
 teachers. In the twelfth century, the great acad 
 emy of Narbonne, under Abraham ibn Baud, at 
 tracted crowds of foreign students. These, as 
 Benjamin of Tudela tells us, were fed and clothed 
 at the communal cost. At Beaucaire, the students 
 were housed and supported at the" teacher s ex 
 pense. In the seventeenth century, the students 
 not only were paid small bursaries, but every house 
 hold entertained one or more of them at table. 
 In these circumstances their life was by no means 
 dull or monotonous. A Jewish student endures 
 much, but he knows how to get the best out of life. 
 This optimism, this quickness of humor, saved the 
 Rabbi and his pupil from many a melancholy hour. 
 Take Abraham ibn Ezra, for instance. If ever a 
 man was marked out to be a bitter reviler of fate, 
 it was he. But he laughed at fate. He gaily wan 
 dered from his native Spain over many lands pen 
 niless, travelled with no baggage but his thoughts, 
 
 147 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 visited Italy and France, and even reached London, 
 where, perhaps, he died. Fortune ill-treated him, 
 but he found many joys. Wherever he went, pat 
 rons held out their hand. 
 
 Travelling students found many such generous 
 lovers of learning, who, with their wealth, encour 
 aged their guests to write original works or copy 
 out older books, which the patrons then passed on 
 to poor scholars in want of a library. The legend 
 is told, how the prophet Elijah visited Hebron, 
 and was not " called up " in the synagogue. Re 
 ceiving no Aliyah on earth, he returned to his eleva 
 tion in Heaven. It was thus imprudent to deny 
 honor to angels unawares. Usually the scholar was 
 treated as such a possible angel. When he ar 
 rived, the whole congregation would turn out to 
 meet him. He would be taken in procession to the 
 synagogue, where he would say the benediction 
 ha-Gomel, in thanks for his safety on the road. 
 Perhaps he would address the congregation, 
 though he would do that rather in the school than 
 in the synagogue. Then a banquet would be spread 
 for him. This banquet was called one of the Seu- 
 doth Mitzvah, i. e. " commandment meals," to 
 which it was a duty of all pious men to contribute 
 their money and their own attendance. It would 
 
 148 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 be held in the communal hall, used mostly for mar 
 riage feasts. When a wedding party came from 
 afar, similar steps for general enjoyment were 
 taken. Men mounted on horseback went forth to 
 welcome the bride, mimic tournaments were fought 
 en route, torch-light processions were made if it 
 were night time, processions by boats if it were in 
 Italy or by the Rhine, a band of communal musi 
 cians, retained at general cost, played merry 
 marches, and everyone danced and joined in the 
 choruses. These musicians often went from town 
 to town, and the Jewish players were hired for 
 Gentile parties, just as Jews employed Christian or 
 Arab musicians to help make merry on the Jewish 
 Sabbaths and festivals. 
 
 We need not wonder, then, that a traveller like 
 Ibn Ezra was no croaker, but a genial critic of life. 
 He suffered, but he was light-hearted enough to 
 compose witty epigrams and improvise rollicking 
 wine songs. He was an accomplished chess player, 
 and no doubt did something to spread the Eastern 
 game in Europe. Another service rendered by 
 such travellers was the spread of learning by their 
 translations. Their wanderings made them great 
 linguists, and they were thus able to translate medi 
 cal, astronomical, and scientific works wherever 
 
 149 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 they went. They were also sent by kings on mis 
 sions to collect new nautical instruments. Thus, 
 the baculus, which helped Columbus to discover 
 America, was taken to Portugal by Jews, and a 
 French Jew was its inventor. They were much in 
 demand as travelling doctors, being summoned 
 from afar to effect specific cures. But they also 
 carried other delights with them. Not only were 
 they among the troubadours, but they were also the 
 most famous of the travelling conteurs. It was 
 the Jews, like Berechiah, Charizi, Zabara, Abra 
 ham ibn Chasdai, and other incessant travellers, 
 who helped to bring to Europe ^Esop, Bidpai, the 
 Buddhist legends, who " translated them from the 
 Indian," and were partly responsible for this rich 
 poetical gift to the Western w r orld. 
 
 Looking back on such a life, Ibn Ezra might 
 well detect a Divine Providence in his own pains 
 and sorrows. So, Jew-like, he retained his hope to 
 the last, and after his buffetings on the troubled 
 seas of life, remembering the beneficent results of 
 his travels to others, if not to himself, he could 
 write in this faithful strain: 
 
 My hope God knoweth well, 
 
 My life He made full sweet; 
 Whene er His servant fell, 
 
 God raised him to his feet. 
 150 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 Within the garment of His grace, 
 
 My faults He did enfold, 
 Hiding my sin, His kindly face 
 
 My God did ne er withhold. 
 Requiting with fresh good, 
 
 My black ingratitude. 
 
 There remain the great merchant travellers to 
 be told about. They sailed over all the world, and 
 brought to Europe the wares, the products, the 
 luxuries of the East. They had their own peculiar 
 dangers. Shipwreck was the fate of others besides 
 themselves, but they were peculiarly liable to cap 
 ture and sale as slaves. Foremost among their 
 more normal hardships I should place the bridge 
 laws of the Middle Ages. The bridges were some 
 times practically maintained by the Jewish tolls. In 
 England, before 1290, a Jew paid a toll of a half 
 penny on foot and a full penny on horseback 
 large sums in those days. A " dead Jew " paid 
 eightpence. Burial was for a long time lawful 
 only in London, and the total toll paid for bring 
 ing a dead Jew to London over the various bridges 
 must have been considerable. In the Kurpfalz, 
 for instance, the Jewish traveller had to pay the 
 usual " white penny " for every mile, but also a 
 heavy general fee for the whole journey. If he 
 
 151 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 was found without his ticket of leave, he was at 
 once arrested. But it was when he came to a 
 bridge that the exactions grew insufferable. The 
 regulations were somewhat tricky, for the Jew was 
 specially taxed only on Sundays and the Festivals 
 of the Church. But every other day was some 
 Saint s Festival, and while, in Mannheim, even on 
 those days the Christian traveller paid one kreu- 
 zer if he crossed the bridge on foot, and two if on 
 horseback, the Jew was charged four kreuzer if 
 on foot, twelve if on a horse, and for every beast 
 of burden he, unlike the Christian wayfarer, paid 
 a further toll of eight kreuzer. The Jewish quar 
 ter often lay near the river, and Jews had great oc 
 casion for crossing the bridges, even for local 
 needs. In Venice, the Jewish quarter was natu 
 rally intersected by bridges ; in Rome there was the 
 pons Judeorum, which, no doubt, the Jews had to 
 maintain in repair. It must be remembered that 
 many local Jewish communities paid a regular 
 bridge tax which was not exacted from Christians, 
 and when all this is considered, it will be seen that 
 the Jewish merchant needed to work hard and go 
 far afield, if he was to get any profit from his 
 enterprises. 
 
 Nevertheless, these Jews owned horses and 
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MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 caravans, and sailed their own ships long before 
 the time when great merchants, like the English 
 Jew Antonio Fernandes Carvajal, traded in 
 their own vessels between London and the Cana 
 ries. We hear of Palestinian Jews in the third 
 century and of Italian Jews in the fifth century 
 with ships of their own. Jewish sailors abounded 
 on the Mediterranean, which tended to become 
 a Jewish lake. The trade routes of the Jews 
 were chiefly two. " By one route," says Beazley, 
 " they sailed from the ports of France and Italy 
 to the Isthmus of Suez, and thence down the 
 Red Sea to India and Farther Asia. By an 
 other course, they transported the goods of the 
 West to the Syrian coast; up the Orontes to 
 Antioch; down the Euphrates to Bassora; and 
 so along the Persian Gulf to Oman and the 
 Southern Ocean." Further, there were two chief 
 overland routes. On the one side merchants left 
 Spain, traversed the straits of Gibraltar, went by 
 caravan from Tangier along the northern fringe 
 of the desert, to Egypt, Syria, and Persia. This 
 was the southern route. Then there was the north 
 ern route, through Germany, across the country of 
 the Slavs to the Lower Volga; thence, descending 
 the river, they sailed across the Caspian. Then the 
 
 153 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 traveller proceeded along the Oxus valley to 
 Balkh, and, turning north-east, traversed the coun 
 try of the Tagazgaz Turks, and found himself at 
 last on the frontier of China. When one realizes 
 the extent of such a journey, it is not surprising to 
 hear that the greatest authorities are agreed that 
 in the Middle Ages, before the rise of the Italian 
 trading republics, the Jews were the chief middle 
 men between Europe and Asia. Their vast com 
 mercial undertakings were productive of much 
 good. Not only did the Jews bring to Europe new 
 articles of food and luxury, but they served the 
 various States as envoys and as intelligencers. The 
 great Anglo-Jewish merchant Carvajal provided 
 Cromwell with valuable information, as other Jew 
 ish merchants had done to other rulers of whom 
 they were loyal servants. In the fifteenth century 
 Henry of Portugal applied to Jews for intelligence 
 respecting the interior of Africa, and a little later 
 John, king of the same land, derived accurate in 
 formation respecting India from two Jewish trav 
 ellers that had spent many years at Ormuz and 
 Calcutta. But it is unnecessary to add more facts 
 of this type. The Jewish merchant traveller was 
 no mere tradesman. He observed the country, 
 especially did he note the numbers and occupations 
 
 154 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 of the Jews, their synagogues, their schools, their 
 vices, and their virtues. 
 
 In truth, the Jewish traveller, as he got farther 
 from home, was more at home than many of his 
 contemporaries of other faiths when they were at 
 home. He kept alive that sense of the oneness of 
 Judaism which could be most strongly and com 
 pletely achieved because there was no political bias 
 to separate it into hostile camps. 
 
 But the interest between the traveller and his 
 home was maintained by another bond. A strik 
 ing feature of Jewish wayfaring life was the writ 
 ing of letters home. The " Book of the Pious," com 
 posed about 1 200, says: " He that departs from 
 the city where his father and mother live, and 
 travels to a place of danger, and his father and 
 mother are anxious on account of him; it is the 
 bounden duty of the son to hire a messenger as 
 soon as he can and despatch a letter to his father 
 and mother, telling them when he departs from 
 the place of danger, that their anxiety may be al 
 layed." Twice a year all Jews wrote family let 
 ters, at the New Year and the Passover, and they 
 sent special greetings on birthdays. But the trav 
 eller was the chief letter-writer. " O my father," 
 wrote the famous Obadiah of Bertinoro, in 1488, 
 
 155 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 " my departure from thee has caused thee sorrow 
 and suffering, and I am inconsolable that I was 
 forced to leave at the time when age was creeping 
 on thee. When I think of thy grey hairs, which I 
 no longer see, my eyes flow over with tears. But 
 if the happiness of serving thee in person is denied 
 to me, yet I can at least serve thee as thou desirest, 
 by writing to thee of my journey, by pouring my 
 soul out to thee, by a full narrative of what I have 
 seen and of the state and manners of the Jews in 
 all the places where I have dwelt." After a long 
 and valuable narrative, he concludes in this loving 
 strain: " I have taken me a house in Jerusalem 
 near the synagogue, and my window overlooks it. 
 In the court where my house is, there live five 
 women, and only one other man besides myself. 
 He is blind, and his wife attends to my needs. God 
 be thanked, I have escaped the sickness which af 
 fects nearly all travellers here. And I entreat you, 
 weep not at my absence, but rejoice in my joy, that 
 I am in the Holy City. I take God to witness that 
 here the thought of all my sufferings vanishes, and 
 but one image is before my eyes, thy dear face, O 
 my father. Let me feel that I can picture that 
 face to me, not clouded with tears, but lit with joy. 
 You have other children around you; make them 
 
 156 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 your joy, and let my letters, which I will ever and 
 anon renew, bring solace to your age, as your let 
 ters bring solace to me." 
 
 Much more numerous than the epistles of sons 
 to fathers are the letters of fathers to their fami 
 lies. When these come from Palestine, there is 
 the same mingling of pious joy and human sorrow 
 joy to be in the Holy Land, sorrow to be sep 
 arated from home. Another source of grief was 
 the desolation of Palestine. 
 
 One such letter-writer tells sadly how he walked 
 through the market at Zion, thought of the past, 
 and only kept back his tears lest the Arab onlook 
 ers should see and ridicule his sorrow. Yet an 
 other medieval letter-writer, Nachmanides, reaches 
 the summit of sentiment in these lines, which I take 
 from Dr. Schechter s translation: "I was exiled 
 by force from home, I left my sons and daughters; 
 and with the dear and sweet ones whom I brought 
 up on my knees, I left my soul behind me. My 
 heart and my eyes will dwell with them forever. 
 But O ! the joy of a day in thy courts, O Jerusalem ! 
 visiting the ruins of the Temple and crying over 
 the desolate Sanctuary; where I am permitted to 
 caress thy stones, to fondle thy dust, and to weep 
 over thy ruins. I wept bitterly, but found joy in 
 my tears. * 
 
 157 
 
MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 And with this thought in our mind we will take 
 leave of our subject. It is the traveller who can 
 best discern, amid the ruins wrought by man, the 
 hope of a Divine rebuilding. Over the heavy hills 
 of strife, he sees the coming dawn of peace. The 
 world must still pass through much tribulation be 
 fore the new Jerusalem shall arise, to enfold in its 
 loving embrace all countries and all men. But the 
 traveller, more than any other, hastens the good 
 time. He overbridges seas, he draws nations 
 nearer; he shows men that there are many ways of 
 living and of loving. He teaches them to be tol 
 erant; he humanizes them by presenting their 
 brothers to them. The traveller it is who prepares 
 a way in the wilderness, who makes straight in the 
 desert a highway for the Lord. 
 
 [Notes, pp. 305-306] 
 
 158 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 Pliny says that by eating the palpitating heart 
 of a mole one acquires the faculty of divining fu 
 ture events. In "Westward Ho!" the Spanish 
 prisoners beseech their English foe, Mr. Oxenham, 
 not to leave them in the hands of the Cimaroons, 
 for the latter invariably ate the hearts of all that 
 fell into their hands, after roasting them alive. 
 " Do you know," asks Mr. Alston in the " Witch s 
 Head," " what those Basutu devils would have 
 done if they had caught us? They would have 
 skinned us, and made our hearts into mouti [medi 
 cine] and eaten them, to give them the courage of 
 the white man." Ibn Verga, the author of a six 
 teenth century account of Jewish martyrs, records 
 the following strange story: " I have heard that 
 some people in Spain once brought the accusation 
 that they had found, in the house of a Jew, a lad 
 slain, and his breast rent near the heart. They 
 asserted that the Jews had extracted his heart to 
 employ it at their festival. Don Solomon, the 
 Levite, who was a learned man and a Cabbalist, 
 
 159 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 placed the Holy Name under the lad s tongue. 
 The lad then awoke and told who had slain him, 
 and who had removed his heart, with the object 
 of accusing the poor Jews. I have not," adds the 
 author of the Shebet Jehudah, " seen this story 
 in writing, but I have heard it related." 
 
 We have the authority of Dr. Ploss for the 
 statement that among the Slavs witches produce 
 considerable disquiet in families, into which, folk 
 say, they penetrate in the disguise of hens or butter 
 flies. They steal the hearts of children in order to 
 eat them. They strike the child on the left side 
 with a little rod ; the breast opens, and the witches 
 tear out the heart, and devour every atom of it. 
 Thereupon the wound closes up of itself, without 
 leaving a trace of what has been done. The child 
 dies either immediately or soon afterwards, as the 
 witch chooses. Many children s illnesses are at 
 tributed to this cause. If one of these witches is 
 caught asleep, the people seize her, and move her 
 so as to place her head where her feet were before. 
 On awaking, she has lost all her power for evil, and 
 is transformed into a medicine-woman, who is 
 acquainted with the healing effects of every herb, 
 and aids in curing children of their diseases. In 
 Heine s poem, " The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar," the 
 
 160 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 love-lorn youth seeks the cure of his heart s ill by 
 placing a waxen heart on the shrine. This is un 
 questionably the most exquisite use in literature of 
 the heart as a charm. 
 
 Two or three of the stories that I have noted 
 dow r n on the gruesome subject of heart-eating have 
 been given above. Such ideas were abhorrent to 
 the Jewish conscience, and the use of the heart torn 
 from a living animal was regarded as characteris 
 tic of idolatry (Jerusalem Talmud, Aboda Zara, 
 ii, 4ib). In the Book of Tobit a fish s heart plays 
 a part, but it is detached from the dead animal, and 
 is not eaten. It forms an ingredient of the smoke 
 which exorcises the demon that is troubling the 
 heroine Sarah. 
 
 I have not come across any passage in the Jew 
 ish Midrashim that ascribes to " heart-eating," 
 even in folk-lore, the virtue of bestowing wisdom. 
 Aristotle seems to lend his authority to some such 
 notion as that I have quoted from Pliny, when he 
 says, " Man alone presents the phenomenon of 
 heart-beating, because he alone is moved by hope 
 and by expectation of what is coming." As 
 George H. Lewes remarked, it is quite evident that 
 Aristotle could never have held a bird in his hand. 
 The idea, however, that eating the heart of an 
 11 161 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 animal has wisdom-conferring virtue seems to 
 underlie a very interesting Hebrew fable published 
 by Dr. Steinschneider, in his Alphabetum Siracidis. 
 The Angel of Death had demanded of God the 
 power to slay all living things. 
 
 " The Holy One replied, Cast a pair of each species into the 
 sea, and then thou shalt have dominion over all that remain of 
 the species. The Angel did so forthwith, and he cast a pair of 
 each kind into the sea. When the fox saw what he was about, 
 what did he do? At once he stood and wept. Then said the 
 Angel of Death unto him, Why weepest thou ? For my com 
 panions, whom thou hast cast into the sea, answered the fox. 
 Where, then, are thy companions ? said the Angel. The fox 
 ran to the sea-shore [with his wife], and the Angel of Death 
 beheld the reflection of the fox in the water, and he thought that 
 he had already cast in a pair of foxes, so, addressing the fox 
 by his side, he cried, Be off with you ! The fox at once fled 
 and escaped. The w r easel met him, and the fox related what had 
 happened, and what he had done; and so the weasel went and 
 did likewise. 
 
 " At the end of the year, the leviathan assembled all the crea 
 tures in the sea, and lo! the fox and the weasel were missing, 
 for they had not come into the sea. He sent to ask, and he was 
 told how the fox and the weasel had escaped through their wis 
 dom. They taunted the leviathan, saying, The fox is exceed 
 ingly cunning. The leviathan felt uneasy and envious, and he 
 sent a deputation of great fishes, with the order that they were 
 to deceive the fox, and bring him before him. They went, and 
 found him by the sea-shore. When the fox saw the fishes dis- 
 
 162 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 porting themselves near the bank, he was surprised, and he went 
 among them. They beheld him, and asked, Who art thou? 
 I am the fox, said he. Knowest thou not, continued the 
 fishes, that a great honor is in store for thee, and that we have 
 come here on thy behalf? What is it? asked the fox. The 
 leviathan, they said, is sick, and like to die. He has appointed 
 thee to reign in his stead, for he has heard that thou art wiser 
 and more prudent than all other animals. Come with us, for 
 we are his messengers, and are here to thy honor. But, ob 
 jected the fox, how can I come into the sea without being 
 drowned ? Nay, said the fishes ; ride upon one of us, and 
 he will carry thee above the sea, so that not even a drop of water 
 shall touch so much as the soles of thy feet, until thou readiest 
 the kingdom. We will take thee down without thy knowing it. 
 Come with us, and reign over us, and be king, and be joyful 
 all thy days. No more wilt thou need to seek for food, nor will 
 wild beasts, stronger than thou, meet thee and devour thee. 
 
 " The fox heard and believed their words. He rode upon one 
 of them, and they went with him into the sea. Soon, however, 
 the waves dashed over him, and he began to perceive that he 
 had been tricked. Woe is me ! wailed the fox, what have I 
 done? I have played many a trick on others, but these fishes 
 have played one on me worth all mine put together. Now I have 
 fallen into their hands, how shall I free myself? Indeed, he 
 said, turning to the fishes, now that I am fully in your power, 
 I shall speak the truth. What are you going to do with me? 
 To tell thee the truth, replied the fishes, the leviathan has 
 heard thy fame, that thou art very wise, and he said, I will 
 rend the fox, and will eat his heart, and thus I shall become 
 wise. Oh ! said the fox, * why did you not tell me the 
 
 163 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 truth at first? I should then have brought my heart with me, 
 and I should have given it to King Leviathan, and he would 
 have honored me ; but now ye are in an evil plight. What ! 
 thou hast not thy heart with thee ? Certainly not. It is our 
 custom to leave our heart at home while we go about from place 
 to place. When we need our heart, we take it; otherwise it 
 remains at home. What must we do? asked the bewildered 
 fishes. My house and dwelling-place, replied the fox, are by 
 the sea-shore. If you like, carry me back to the place whence 
 you brought me, I will fetch my heart, and will come again with 
 you. I will present my heart to Leviathan, and he will reward 
 me and you with honors. But if you take me thus, without my 
 heart, he will be wroth with you, and will devour you. I have 
 no fear for myself, for I shall say unto him: My lord, they 
 did not tell me at first, and when they did tell me, I begged 
 them to return for my heart, but they refused. The fishes at 
 once declared that he was speaking well. They conveyed him 
 back to the spot on the sea-shore whence they had taken him. 
 Off jumped the fox, and he danced with joy. He threw himself 
 on the sand, and laughed. Be quick, cried the fishes, get 
 thy heart, and come. But the fox answered, You fools ! Be 
 gone ! How could I have come with you without my heart ? 
 Have you any animals that go about without their hearts? 
 Thou hast tricked us, they moaned. Fools ! I tricked the Angel 
 of Death, how much more easily a parcel of silly fishes. 
 
 "They returned in shame, and related to their master what 
 had happened. In truth, he said, he is cunning, and ye are 
 simple. Concerning you was it said, The turning away of the 
 simple shall slay them [Prov. i: 32]. Then the leviathan ate 
 the fishes." 
 
 164 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 Metaphorically, the Bible characterizes the fool 
 as a man " without a heart," and it is probably in 
 the same sense that modern Arabs describe the 
 brute creation as devoid of hearts. The fox in the 
 narrative just given knew better. Not so, how 
 ever, the lady who brought a curious question for 
 her Rabbi to solve. The case to which I refer may 
 be found in the Responsa Zebi Hirsch. Hirsch s 
 credulous questioner asserted that she had pur 
 chased a live cock, but on killing and drawing it, 
 she had found that it possessed no heart. The 
 Rabbi refused very properly to believe her. On 
 investigating the matter, he found that, while she 
 was dressing the cock, two cats had been standing 
 near the table. The Rabbi assured his questioner 
 that there was no need to inquire further into the 
 whereabouts of the cock s heart. 
 
 Out of the crowd of parallels to the story of the 
 fox s heart supplied by the labors of Benfey, I se 
 lect one given in the second volume of the learned 
 investigator s Pantschatantra. A crocodile had 
 formed a close friendship with a monkey, who in 
 habited a tree close to the water side. The mon 
 key gave the crocodile nuts, which the latter rel 
 ished heartily. One day the crocodile took some 
 of the nuts home to his wife. She found them 
 
 165 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 excellent, and inquired who was the donor. If," 
 she said, when her husband had told her, " he 
 feeds on such ambrosial nuts, this monkey s heart 
 must be ambrosia itself. Bring me his heart, 
 that I may eat it, and so be free from age and 
 death." Does not this version supply a more 
 probable motive than that attributed in the He 
 brew story to the leviathan? I strongly suspect 
 that the Hebrew fable has been pieced together 
 from various sources, and that the account given 
 by the fishes, viz. that the leviathan was ill, was 
 actually the truth in the original story. The levi 
 athan would need the fox s heart, not to become 
 wise, but in order to save his life. 
 
 To return to the crocodile. He refuses to be 
 tray his friend, and his wife accuses him of infidel 
 ity. His friend, she maintains, is not a monkey at 
 all, but a lady-love of her husband s. Else why 
 should he hesitate to obey her wishes? " If he is 
 not your beloved, why will you not kill him ? Un 
 less you bring me his heart, I will not taste food, 
 but will die." Then the crocodile gives in, and in 
 the most friendly manner invites the monkey to pay 
 him and his wife a visit. The monkey consents 
 unsuspectingly, but discovers the truth, and escapes 
 by adopting the same ruse as that employed by the 
 
 166 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 fox. He asserts that he has left his heart behind 
 on his tree. 
 
 That eating the heart of animals was not 
 thought a means of obtaining wisdom among the 
 Jews, may be directly inferred from a passage in 
 the Talmud (Horayoth, I3b). Among five 
 things there enumerated as " causing a man to for 
 get what he has learned," the Talmud includes 
 " eating the hearts of animals." Besides, in cer 
 tain well-known stories in the Midrash, where a 
 fox eats some other animal s heart, his object is 
 merely to enjoy a titbit. 
 
 One such story in particular deserves attention. 
 There are at least three versions of it. The one is 
 contained in the Mlshle Shualim, or " Fox-Sto 
 ries," by Berechiah ha-Nakdan (no. 106), the sec 
 ond in the Hadar Zekenim (fol. 2yb), and the 
 third in the Midrash Yalkut, on Exodus (ed. 
 Venice, 56a) . Let us take the three versions in the 
 order named. 
 
 A wild boar roams in a lion s garden. The lion 
 orders him to quit the place and not defile his resi 
 dence. The boar promises to obey, but next morn 
 ing he is found near the forbidden precincts. The 
 lion orders one of his ears to be cut off. He then 
 summons the fox, and directs that if the boar still 
 
 167 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 persists in his obnoxious visits, no mercy shall be 
 shown to him. The boar remains obstinate, and 
 loses his ears (one had already gone!) and eyes, 
 and finally he is killed. The lion bids the fox pre 
 pare the carcass for His Majesty s repast, but the 
 fox himself devours the boar s heart. When the 
 lion discovers the loss, the fox quiets his master by 
 asking, " If the boar had possessed a heart, would 
 he have been so foolish as to disobey you so per 
 sistently? " 
 
 The king of the beasts, runs the story in the sec 
 ond of the three versions, appointed the ass as 
 keeper of the tolls. One day King Lion, together 
 with the wolf and the fox, approached the city. 
 The ass came and demanded the toll of them. Said 
 the fox, " You are the most audacious of animals. 
 Don t you see that the king is with us? " But the 
 ass answered, " The king himself shall pay," and 
 he went and demanded the toll of the king. The 
 lion rent him to pieces, and the fox ate the heart, 
 and excused himself as in the former version. 
 
 The Yalkut, or third version, is clearly identical 
 with the preceding, for, like it, the story is quoted 
 to illustrate the Scriptural text referring to Pha 
 raoh s heart becoming hard. In this version, how 
 ever, other animals accompany the lion and the 
 
 168 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 fox, and the scene of the story is on board ship. 
 The ass demands the fare, with the same denoue 
 ment as before. 
 
 What induced the fox to eat the victim s heart? 
 The ass is not remarkable for wisdom, nor is the 
 boar. Hence the wily Reynard can scarcely have 
 thought to add to his store of cunning by his sur 
 reptitious meal. 
 
 Hearts, in folk-lore, have been eaten for re 
 venge, as in the grim story of the lover s heart told 
 by Boccaccio. The jealous husband forces his wife, 
 whose fidelity he doubts, to make a meal of her 
 supposed lover s heart. In the story of the great 
 bird s egg, again, the brother who eats the heart 
 becomes rich, but not wise. Various motives, no 
 doubt, are assigned in other Mdrchen for choosing 
 the heart; but in these particular Hebrew fables, it 
 is merely regarded as a bonne bouche. Possibly 
 the Talmudic caution, that eating the heart of a 
 beast brings forgetfulness, may have a moral sig 
 nificance; it may mean that one who admits bestial 
 passions into his soul will be destitute of a mind 
 for nobler thoughts. This suggestion I have 
 heard, and I give it for what it may be worth. As 
 a rule, there is no morality in folk-lore; stories 
 with morals belong to the later and more artificial 
 
 169 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 stage of poet-lore. Homiletical folk-lore, of 
 course, stands on a different basis. 
 
 Now, in the Yalkut version of the fox and the 
 lion fable, all that we are told is, " The fox saw the 
 ass s heart; he took it, and ate it." But Berechiah 
 leaves us in no doubt as to the fox s motive. " The 
 fox saw that his heart was fat, and so he took it." 
 In the remaining version, " The fox saw that the 
 heart was good, so he ate it." This needs no fur 
 ther comment. 
 
 Of course, it has been far from my intention to 
 dispute that the heart was regarded by Jews as the 
 seat both of the intellect and the feelings, of all 
 mental and spiritual functions, indeed. The heart 
 was the best part of man, the fount of life; hence 
 Jehudah Halevi s well-known saying, " Israel is to 
 the world as the heart to the body." An intimate 
 connection was also established, by Jews and 
 Greeks alike, between the physical condition of the 
 heart and man s moral character. It was a not 
 unnatural thought that former ages were more 
 pious than later times. " The heart of Rabbi 
 Akiba was like the door of the porch [which was 
 twenty cubits high], the heart of Rabbi Eleazar 
 ben Shammua was like the door of the Temple 
 [this was only ten cubits high], while our hearts 
 
 170 
 
THE FOX S HEART 
 
 are only as large as the eye of a needle." But I am 
 going beyond my subject. To collect all the things, 
 pretty and the reverse, that have been said in Jew 
 ish literature about the heart, would need more lei 
 sure, and a great deal more learning, than I pos 
 sess. So I will conclude with a story, pathetic as 
 well as poetical, from a Jewish medieval chronicle. 
 A Mohammedan king once asked a learned 
 Rabbi why the Jews, who had in times long past 
 been so renowned for their bravery, had in later 
 generations become subdued, and even timorous. 
 The Rabbi, to prove that captivity and persecu 
 tion were the cause of the change, proposed an ex 
 periment. He bade the king take two lion s 
 whelps, equally strong and big. One was tied up, 
 the other was allowed to roam free in the palace 
 grounds. They were fed alike, and after an in 
 terval both were killed. The king s officers found 
 that the heart of the captive lion was but one-tenth 
 as large as that of his free companion, thus evi 
 dencing the degenerating influence of slavery. 
 This is meant, no doubt, as a fable, but, at least, it 
 is not without a moral. The days of captivity are 
 gone, and it may be hoped that Jewish large-heart- 
 edness has come back with the breath of freedom. 
 
 [Notes, pp. 306-307] 
 171 
 
MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 
 
 " The Omnipresent," said a Rabbi, " is occupied in making 
 marriages." The levity of the saying lies in the ear of him 
 who hears it; for by marriages the speaker meant all the won 
 drous combinations of the universe, whose issue makes our good 
 and evil. George Eliot 
 
 The proverb that I have set at the head of these 
 lines is popular in every language of Europe. 
 Need I add that a variant may be found in Chi 
 nese? The Old Man of the Moon unites male and 
 female with a silken, invisible thread, and they 
 cannot afterwards be separated, but are destined 
 to become man and wife. The remark of the 
 Rabbi quoted in " Daniel Deronda " carries the 
 proverb back apparently to a Jewish origin; and 
 it is, indeed, more than probable that the Rabbin 
 ical literature is the earliest source to which this 
 piece of folk-philosophy can be traced. 
 
 George Eliot s Rabbi was Jose bar Chalafta, 
 and his remark was made to a lady, possibly a 
 Roman matron of high quality, in Sepphoris. 
 Rabbi Jose was evidently an adept in meeting the 
 puzzling questions of women, for as many as six- 
 
 172 
 
" MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 
 
 teen interviews between him and " matrons " are 
 recorded in Agadic literature. Whether because 
 prophetic of its subsequent popularity, or for some 
 other reason, this particular dialogue in which 
 Rabbi Jose bore so conspicuous a part is repeated 
 in the Midrash Rabba alone not less than four 
 times, besides appearing in other Midrashim. It 
 will be as well, then, to reproduce the passage in a 
 summarized form, for it may be fairly described 
 as the locus classicus on the subject. 
 
 " How long," she asked, " did it take God to create the world ? " 
 and Rabbi Jose informed her that the time occupied was six 
 days. " What has God been doing since that time ? " continued 
 the matron. " The Holy One," answered the Rabbi, " has been 
 sitting in Heaven arranging marriages." " Indeed ! " she replied, 
 " I could do as much myself. I have thousands of slaves, and 
 could marry them off in couples in a single hour. It is easy 
 enough." " I hope that you will find it so," said Rabbi Jose. 
 " In Heaven it is thought as difficult as the dividing of the Red 
 Sea." He then took his departure, while she assembled one 
 thousand men-servants and as many maid-servants, and, marking 
 them off in pairs, ordered them all to marry. On the day follow 
 ing this wholesale wedding, the poor victims came to their mis 
 tress in a woeful plight. One had a broken leg, another a black 
 eye, a third a swollen nose ; all were suffering from some ailment, 
 but with one voice they joined in the cry, "Lady, unmarry us 
 again ! " Then the matron sent for Rabbi Jose, admitted that 
 she had underrated the delicacy and difficulty of match-making, 
 
 173 
 
"MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN" 
 
 and wisely resolved to leave Heaven for the future to do its 
 work in its own way. 
 
 The moral conveyed by this story may seem, 
 however, to have been idealized by George Eliot 
 almost out of recognition. This is hardly the case. 
 Genius penetrates into the heart, even from a cas 
 ual glance at the face of things. Though it is un 
 likely that she had ever seen the full passages in 
 the Midrash to which she was alluding, yet her 
 insight was not at fault. For the saying that God 
 is occupied in making marriages is, in fact, asso 
 ciated in some passages of the Midrash with the 
 far wider problems of man s destiny, with the uni 
 versal effort to explain the inequalities of fortune, 
 and the changes with which the future is heavy. 
 
 Rabbi Jose s proverbial explanation of connu 
 bial happiness was not merely a bon mot invented 
 on the spur of the moment, to silence an awkward 
 questioner. It was a firm conviction, which finds 
 expression in more than one quaint utterance, but 
 also in more than one matter-of-fact assertion. To 
 take the latter first : 
 
 "Rabbi Phineas in the name of Rabbi Abbahu said, We find 
 in the Torah, in the Prophets, and in the Holy Writings, evidence 
 that a man s wife is chosen for him by the Holy One, blessed be 
 He. Whence do we deduce it in the Torah? From Genesis 
 
 174 
 
" MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 
 
 xxiv. 50: Then Laban and Bethuel answered and said [in 
 reference to Rebekah s betrothal to Isaac], The tiling proceedcth 
 from the Lord. In the Prophets it is found in Judges xiv. 4 
 [where it is related how Samson wished to mate himself with 
 a woman in Timnath, of the daughters of the Philistines], But 
 his father and mother knew not that it was of the Lord. In the 
 Holy Writings the same may be seen, for it is written (Proverbs 
 xix. 14), House and riches are the inheritance of fathers, but 
 a prudent wife is from the Lord" 
 
 Many years ago, a discussion was carried on in 
 the columns of Notes and Queries concerning the 
 origin of the saying round which my present desul 
 tory jottings are centred. One correspondent, 
 with unconscious plagiarism, suggested that the 
 maxim was derived from Proverbs xix. 14. 
 
 Another text that might be appealed to is Tobit 
 vi. 1 8. The Angel encourages Tobit to marry 
 Sarah, though her seven husbands, one after the 
 other, had died on their wedding eves. " Fear 
 not," said Raphael, " for she is appointed unto 
 thee from the beginning " 
 
 Here we may, for a moment, pause to consider 
 whether any parallels to the belief in Heaven-made 
 marriages exist in other ancient literatures. It 
 appears in English as early as Shakespeare : 
 
 God, the best maker of all marriages, 
 Combine your hearts in one. 
 
 Henry V ., <u. 2. 
 175 
 
" MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 
 
 This, however, is too late to throw any light on 
 its origin. With a little ingenuity, one might, per 
 haps, torture some such notion out of certain fan 
 tastic sentences of Plato. In the Symposium (par. 
 192), however, God is represented as putting ob 
 stacles in the way of the union of fitting lovers, in 
 consequence of the wickedness of mankind. When 
 men become, by their conduct, reconciled with God, 
 they may find their true loves. Astrological divi 
 nations on the subject are certainly common enough 
 in Eastern stories; a remarkable instance will be 
 given later on. At the present day, Lane tells us, 
 the numerical value of the letters in the names of 
 the two parties to the contract are added for each 
 name separately, and one of the totals is sub 
 tracted from the other. If the remainder is un 
 even, the inference drawn is favorable; but if even, 
 the reverse. The pursuit of Gematria is apparently 
 not limited to Jews. Such methods, however, 
 hardly illustrate my present point, for the identity 
 of the couple is not discovered by the process. 
 Whether the diviner s object is to make this dis 
 covery, or the future lot of the married pair is all 
 that he seeks to reveal, in both cases, though he 
 charm never so wisely, it does not fall within the 
 scope of this inquiry. Without stretching one s 
 
 176 
 
" MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 
 
 imagination too much, some passages in the Pant- 
 schatantra seem to imply a belief that marriage- 
 making is under the direct control of Providence. 
 Take, for instance, the story of the beautiful prin 
 cess who was betrothed to a serpent, Deva Serma s 
 son. Despite the various attempts made to induce 
 her to break off so hideous a match, she declines 
 steadfastly to go back from her word, and bases 
 her refusal on the ground that the marriage was 
 inevitable and destined by the gods. 
 
 As quaint illustrations may be instanced the fol 
 lowing: " Raba heard a certain man praying that 
 he might marry a certain damsel; Raba rebuked 
 him with the words: If she be destined for thee, 
 nothing will part thee from her; if thou art not 
 destined for her, thou art denying Providence in 
 praying for her. Afterwards Raba heard him 
 say, If I am not destined to marry her, I hope 
 that either I or she may die, " meaning that he 
 could not bear to witness her union with another. 
 Despite Raba s protest, other instances are on rec 
 ord of prayers similar to the one of which he dis 
 approved. Or, again, the Midrash offers a curious 
 illustration of Psalm Ixii. 10, " Surely men of low 
 degree are a breath, and men of high degree a lie." 
 The first clause of the verse alludes to those who 
 12 177 
 
" MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 
 
 say in the usual way of the world, that a certain 
 man is about to wed a certain maiden, and the 
 second clause to those who say that a certain 
 maiden is about to wed a certain man. In both 
 cases people are in error in thinking that the vari 
 ous parties are acting entirely of their own free 
 will; as a matter of fact, the whole affair is predes 
 tined. I am not quite certain whether the same 
 idea is intended by the Yalkut Reubeni, in which 
 the following occurs: " Know that all religious 
 and pious men in this our generation are hen 
 pecked by their wives, the reason being connected 
 with the mystery of the Golden Calf. The men 
 on that occasion did not protest against the action 
 of the mixed multitude [at whose door the charge 
 of making the calf is laid], while the women were 
 unwilling to surrender their golden ornaments for 
 idolatrous purposes. Therefore they rule over 
 their husbands." One might also quote the bear 
 ing of the mystical theory of transmigration on the 
 predestination of bridal pairs. In the Talmud, on 
 the other hand, the virtues of a man s wife are 
 sometimes said to be in proportion to the husband s 
 own; or in other words, his own righteousness is 
 the cause of his acquiring a good wife. The obvi 
 ous objection, raised by the Talmud itself, is that 
 
 178 
 
"MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN" 
 
 a man s merits can hardly be displayed before his 
 birth and yet his bride is destined for him at that 
 early period. 
 
 Yet more quaint (I should perhaps rather term 
 it consistent, were not consistency rare enough to 
 be indistinguishable from quaintness) was the con 
 fident belief of a maiden of whom mention is made 
 in the Sefer ha-Chasidim (par. 384). She refused 
 persistently to deck her person with ornaments. 
 People said to her, " If you go about thus un 
 adorned, no one will notice you nor court you." 
 She replied with firm simplicity, " It is the Holy 
 One, blessed be He, that settles marriages; I need 
 have no concern on the point myself." Virtue was 
 duly rewarded, for she married a learned and pious 
 husband. This passage in the " Book of the Pious " 
 reminds me of the circumstance under which the 
 originator of the latter-day Chasidism, Israel 
 Baalshem, is said to have married. When he was 
 offered the daughter of a rich and learned man of 
 Brody, named Abraham, he readily accepted the 
 alliance, because he knew that Abraham s daughter 
 was his bride destined by heaven. For, like Moses 
 Mendelssohn, in some other respects the antagonist 
 of the Chasidim, Baalshem accepted the declara 
 tion of Rabbi Judah in the name of Rab : " Forty 
 
 179 
 
"MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN" 
 
 days before the creation of a girl, a proclamation 
 [Bath-Kol] is made in Heaven, saying, " The 
 daughter of such a one shall marry such and such a 
 one." 
 
 The belief in the Divine ordaining of marriages 
 affected the medieval Synagogue liturgy. To re 
 peat what I have written elsewhere : When the 
 bridegroom, with a joyous retinue, visited the syna 
 gogue on the Sabbath following his marriage, the 
 congregation chanted the chapter of Genesis 
 (xxiv) that narrates the story of Isaac s marriage, 
 which, as Abraham s servant claimed, was provi 
 dentially arranged. This chapter was sung, not 
 only in Hebrew, but in Arabic, in countries where 
 the latter language was the vernacular. These 
 special readings, which were additional to the regu 
 lar Scripture lesson, seem to have fallen out of use 
 in Europe in the seventeenth century, but they are 
 still retained in the East. But all over Jewry the 
 beautiful old belief is contained in the wording of 
 the fourth of the " seven benedictions " sung at the 
 celebration of a wedding, " Blessed art thou, O 
 Lord our God, King of the Universe, who hast 
 made man in thine image, after thy likeness, and 
 hast prepared unto him out of his very self a per 
 petual fabric." Here is recalled the creation of 
 
 180 
 
" MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 
 
 Eve, of whom God Himself said, " I will make 
 for man a help meet unto him." Not only the 
 marriage, but also the bride was Heaven-made, 
 and the wonderful wedding benediction enshrines 
 this idea. 
 
 In an Agadic story, the force of this predestina 
 tion is shown to be too strong even for royal op 
 position. It does not follow that the pre-arrange- 
 ment of marriages implies that the pair cannot fall 
 in love of their own accord. On the contrary, just 
 the right two eventually come together; for once 
 freewill and destiny need present no incompati 
 bility. The combination, here shadowed, of a pre 
 destined and yet true-love marriage, is effectively 
 illustrated in what follows : 
 
 " Solomon the king was blessed with a very beautiful daughter; 
 she was the fairest maiden in the whole land of Israel. Her 
 father observed the stars, to discover by astrology who was des 
 tined to be her mate in life and wed her, when lo ! he saw that 
 his future son-in-law would be the poorest man in the nation. 
 Now, what did Solomon do? He built a high tower by the sea, 
 and surrounded it on all sides with inaccessible walls; he then 
 took his daughter and placed her in the tower under the charge 
 of seventy aged guardians. He supplied the castle with pro 
 visions, but he had no door made in it, so that none could enter 
 the fortress without the knowledge of the guard. Then the king 
 said, I will watch in what way God will work the matter. 
 
 181 
 
" MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 
 
 " In course of time, a poor and weary traveller was walking 
 on his way by night, his garments were ragged and torn, he was 
 barefooted and ready to faint with hunger, cold, and fatigue. 
 He knew not where to sleep, but, casting his eyes around him, 
 he beheld the skeleton of an ox lying on a field hard by. The 
 youth crept inside the skeleton to shelter himself from the wind, 
 and, while he slept there, down swooped a great bird, which 
 lifted up the carcass and the unconscious youth in it. The bird 
 flew with its burden to the top of Solomon s tower, and set it 
 down on the roof before the very door of the imprisoned princess. 
 She went forth on the morrow to walk on the roof according to 
 her daily wont, and she descried the youth. She said to him, 
 Who art thou? and who brought thee hither? He answered, 
 I am a Jew of Acco, and a bird bore me to thee. The kind- 
 hearted maiden clothed him in new garments; they bathed and 
 anointed him, and she saw that he was the handsomest youth in 
 Israel. They loved one another, and his soul was bound up in 
 hers. One day she said, Wilt thou marry me? He replied, 
 Would it might be so! They resolved to marry. But there 
 was no ink with which to write the Kethubah, or marriage cer 
 tificate. Love laughs at obstacles. So, using some drops of his 
 own blood as ink, the marriage was secretly solemnized, and he 
 said, God is my witness to-day, and Michael and Gabriel like 
 wise. When the matter leaked out, the dismayed custodians of 
 the princess hastily summoned Solomon. The king at once 
 obeyed their call, and asked for the presumptuous youth. He 
 looked at his son-in-law, inquired of him as to his father and 
 mother, family and dwelling-place, and from his replies the king 
 recognized him for the selfsame man whom he had seen in the 
 stars as the destined husband of his daughter. Then Solomon 
 
 182 
 
" MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN " 
 
 rejoiced with exceeding joy and exclaimed, Blessed is the Omni 
 present who giveth a wife to man and establisheth him in his 
 house." 
 
 The moral of which seems to be that, though 
 marriages are made in Heaven, love must be made 
 on earth. 
 
 [Notes, p. 307] 
 
 183 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 Palestine is still the land of song. There the 
 peasant sings Arabic ditties in the field when he 
 sows and reaps, in the desert when he tends his 
 flock, at the oasis when the caravan rests for the 
 night, and when camels are remounted next morn 
 ing. The maiden s fresh voice keeps droning 
 rhythm with her hands and feet as she carries 
 water from the well or wood from the scanty for 
 est, when she milks the goats, and when she bakes 
 the bread. 
 
 The burden of a large portion of these songs is 
 love. The love motive is most prominent musi 
 cally during the long week of wedding festivities, 
 but it is by no means limited to these occasions. 
 The songs often contain an element of quaint, even 
 arch, repartee, in which the girl usually has the 
 better of the argument. Certainly the songs are 
 sometimes gross, but only in the sense that they 
 are vividly natural. With no delicacy of expres 
 sion, they are seldom intrinsically coarse. The 
 troubadours of Europe trilled more daintily of 
 
 184 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 love, but there was at times an illicit note in their 
 lays. Eastern love songs never attain the ideal 
 purity of Dante, but they hardly ever sink to the 
 level of Ovid. 
 
 But why begin an account of Hebrew love 
 songs by citing extant Palestinian examples in 
 Arabic? Because there is an undeniable, if remote, 
 relationship between some of the latter and the 
 Biblical Song of Songs. In that marvellous poem, 
 outspoken praise of earthly beauty, frank enumer 
 ation of the physical charms of the lovers, thor 
 ough unreserve of imagery, are conspicuous 
 enough. Just these features, as Wetzstein showed, 
 are reproduced, in a debased, yet recognizable, 
 likeness, by the modern Syrian wasf a lyric de 
 scription of the bodily perfections and adornments 
 of a newly-wed pair. The Song of Songs, or Can 
 ticles, it is true, is hardly a marriage ode or drama; 
 its theme is betrothed faith rather than marital 
 affection. Still, if we choose to regard the Song 
 of Songs as poetry merely of the wasf type, the 
 Hebrew is not only far older than any extant Ara 
 bic instance, but it transcends the wasf type as a 
 work of inspired genius transcends conventional 
 exercises in verse-making. There are superficial 
 similarities between the wasf and Canticles, but 
 
 185 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 there is no spiritual kinship. The wasf is to the 
 Song as Lovelace is to Shakespeare, nay, the dis 
 tance is even greater. The difference is not only of 
 degree, it is essential. The one touches the surface 
 of love, the other sounds its depths. The Song of 
 Songs immeasurably surpasses the wasf even as 
 poetry. It has been well said by Dr. Harper 
 (author of the best English edition of Canticles), 
 that, viewed simply as poetry, the Song of Songs 
 belongs to the loveliest masterpieces of art. ; If, 
 as Milton said, poetry should be simple, sensuous, 
 passionate, then here we have poetry of singular 
 beauty and power. Such unaffected delight in all 
 things fair as we find here is rare in any literature, 
 and is especially remarkable in ancient Hebrew 
 literature. The beauty of the world and of the 
 creatures in it has been so deeply and warmly felt, 
 that even to-day the ancient poet s emotion of joy 
 in them thrills through the reader." 
 
 It is superfluous to justify this eulogy by quota 
 tion. It is impossible also, unless the quotation 
 extend to the whole book. Yet one scene shall be 
 cited, the exquisite, lyrical dialogue of spring, be 
 ginning with the tenth verse of the second chapter. 
 It is a dialogue, though the whole is reported by 
 one speaker, the Shulammite maid. Her shepherd 
 
 186 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 lover calls to her as she stands hidden behind a lat 
 tice, in the palace in Lebanon, whither she has been 
 decoyed, or persuaded to go, by the " ladies of 
 Jerusalem." 
 
 The shepherd lover calls 
 Rise up, my love, 
 
 My fair one, come away ! 
 For, lo, the winter is past, 
 The rain is over and gone, 
 The flowers appear on the earth: 
 The birds singing time is here, 
 
 And the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land. 
 The fig-tree ripens red her winter fruit, 
 And blossoming vines give forth fragrance. 
 Rise up, my love, 
 
 My fair one, come away! 
 
 Shulammith makes no answer, though she feels 
 that the shepherd is conscious of her presence. She 
 is, as it were, in an unapproachable steep, such as 
 the wild dove selects for her shy nest. So he goes 
 on: 
 
 O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, 
 
 In the covert of the steep ! 
 
 Let me see thy face, 
 
 Let me hear thy voice, 
 
 For sweet is thy voice, and thy face comely! 
 
 She remains tantalizingly invisible, but becomes 
 audible. She sings a snatch from a vineyard- 
 
 187 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 watcher s song, hinting, perhaps, at the need in 
 which her person (her " vineyard " as she else 
 where calls it) stands of protection against royal 
 foxes, small and large. 
 
 Shulammith sings 
 
 Take us the foxes, 
 The little foxes, 
 
 That spoil the vineyards: 
 For our vines are in blossom ! 
 
 Then, in loving rapture, 
 
 Shulammith speaks in an aside 
 
 My beloved is mine, and I am his: 
 He feedeth his flock among the lilies! 
 
 But she cannot refuse her lover one glance at 
 herself, even though sh.e appear only to warn him 
 of his danger, to urge him to leave her and return 
 when the day is over. 
 
 Shulammith entreatlngly to her lover 
 Until the evening breeze blows, 
 And the shadows disappear (at sunset), 
 Turn, my beloved ! 
 Be thou as a young hart 
 Upon the cleft-riven hills! 
 
 This is but one of the many dainty love idylls of 
 this divine poem. Or, again, " could the curious 
 helplessness of the dreamer in a dream and the 
 
 188 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 yearning of a maiden s affection be more exquisitely 
 expressed than in the lines beginning, I was asleep, 
 but my heart waked " ? But, indeed, as the critic 
 I am quoting continues, " the felicities of expression 
 and the happy imaginings of the poem are endless. 
 The spring of nature and of love has been caught 
 and fixed in its many exquisite lines, as only Shakes 
 peare elsewhere has done it; and, understood as 
 we think it must be understood, it has that ethical 
 background of sacrifice and self-forgetting which 
 all love must have to be thoroughly worthy." 
 
 It is this ethical, or, as I prefer to term it, spiri 
 tual, background that discriminates the Song of 
 Songs on the one hand from the Idylls of Theocri 
 tus, and, on the other, from the Syrian popular 
 ditties. Some moderns, notably Budde, hold that 
 the Book of Canticles is merely a collection of pop 
 ular songs used at Syrian weddings, in which the 
 bride figures as queen and her mate as king, just as 
 Budde (wrongly) conceives them to figure in the 
 Biblical Song. Budde suggests that there were 
 " guilds of professional singers at weddings, and 
 that we have in the Song of Songs simply the reper 
 toire of some ancient guild-brother, who, in order 
 to assist his memory, wrote down at random all 
 the songs he could remember, or those he thought 
 the best," 
 
 189 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 But this theory has been generally rejected as 
 unsatisfying. The book, despite its obscurities, is 
 clearly a unity. It is no haphazard collection of 
 love songs. There is a sustained dramatic action 
 leading up to a noble climax. Some passages al 
 most defy the attempt to fit them into a coherent 
 plot, but most moderns detect the following story 
 in Canticles: A beautiful maid of Shulem (per 
 haps another form of Shunem), beloved by a 
 shepherd swain, is the only daughter of well-off 
 but rustic parents. She is treated harshly by her 
 brothers, who set her to watch the vineyards, and 
 this exposure to the sun somewhat mars her beauty. 
 Straying in the gardens, she is on a day in spring 
 surprised by Solomon and his train, who are on a 
 royal progress to the north. She is taken to the 
 palace in the capital, and later to a royal abode in 
 Lebanon. There the " ladies of Jerusalem " seek 
 to win her affections for the king, who himself pays 
 her his court. But she resists all blandishments, 
 and remains faithful to her country lover. Sur 
 rendering graciously to her strenuous resistance, 
 Solomon permits her to return unharmed to her 
 mountain home. Her lover meets her, and as she 
 draws near her native village, the maid, leaning on 
 the shepherd s arm, breaks forth into the glorious 
 
 190 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 panegyric of love, which, even if it stood alone, 
 would make the poem deathless. But it does not 
 stand alone. It is in every sense a climax to what 
 has gone before. And what a climax ! It is a vin 
 dication of true love, which weighs no allurements 
 of wealth and position against itself; a love of free 
 inclination, yet altogether removed from license. 
 Nor is it an expression of that lower love which 
 may prevail in a polygamous state of society, when 
 love is dissipated among many. We have here the 
 love of one for one, an exclusive and absorbing de 
 votion. For though the Bible never prohibited 
 polygamy, the Jews had become monogamous 
 from the Babylonian Exile at latest. The splendid 
 praise of the virtuous woman at the end of the 
 Book of Proverbs gives a picture, not only of mo 
 nogamous home-life, but of woman s influence at 
 its highest. The virtuous woman of Proverbs is 
 wife and mother, deft guide of the home, open- 
 handed dispenser of charity, with the law of kind 
 ness on her tongue ; but her activity also extends to 
 the world outside the home, to the mart, to the 
 business of life. Where, in olden literature, are 
 woman s activities wider or more manifold, her 
 powers more fully developed? Now, the Song 
 of Songs is the lyric companion to this prose pic- 
 
 191 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 ture. The whole Song works up towards the de 
 scription of love in the last chapter towards the 
 culmination of the thought and feeling of the 
 whole series of episodes. The Shulammite speaks : 
 
 Set me as a seal upon thy heart, 
 
 As a seal upon thine arm : 
 
 For love is strong as death, 
 
 Jealousy is cruel as the grave: 
 
 The flashes thereof are flashes of fire, 
 
 A very flame of God ! 
 
 Many waters cannot quench love, 
 
 Neither can the floods drown it: 
 
 If a man would give the substance of his house for love, 
 
 He would be utterly contemned. 
 
 The vindication of the Hebrew song from de 
 gradation to the level of the Syrian wasf is easy 
 enough. But some may feel that there is more 
 plausibility in the case that has been set up for the 
 connection between Canticles and another type of 
 love song, the Idylls of Theocritus, the Sicilian poet 
 whose Greek compositions gave lyric distinction 
 to the Ptolemaic court at Alexandria, about the 
 middle of the third century B. c. E. It is re 
 markable how reluctant some writers are to 
 admit originality in ideas. Such writers seem to 
 recognize no possibility other than supposing The 
 ocritus to have copied Canticles, or Canticles The- 
 
 192 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 ocritus. It does not occur to them that both may 
 be original, independent expressions of similar 
 emotions. Least original among ideas is this de 
 nial of originality in ideas. Criticism has often 
 stultified itself under the obsession that everything 
 is borrowed. On this theory there can never have 
 been an original note. The poet, we are told, is 
 born, not made; but poetry, apparently, is always 
 made, never born. 
 
 The truth rather is that as human nature is 
 everywhere similar, there must necessarily be some 
 similarity ia its literary expression. This is em 
 phatically the case with the expression given to the 
 emotional side of human nature. The love of man 
 for maid, rising everywhere from the same spring, 
 must find lyric outlets that look a good deal alike. 
 The family resemblance between the love poems of 
 various peoples is due to the elemental kinship of 
 the love. Every true lover is original, yet most 
 true lovers, including those who have no familiar 
 ity with poetical literature, fall instinctively on the 
 same terms of endearment. Differences only make 
 themselves felt in the spiritual attitudes of various 
 ages and races towards love. Theocritus has been 
 compared to Canticles, by some on the ground of 
 certain Orientalisms of his thought and phrases, as 
 13 193 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 in his Praise of Ptolemy. But his love poems bear 
 no trace of Orientalism in feeling, as Canticles 
 shows no trace of Hellenism in its conception of 
 love. The similarities are human, the differences 
 racial. 
 
 Direct literary imitation of love lyrics certainly 
 does occur. Virgil imitated Theocritus, and the 
 freshness of the Greek Idyll became the convention 
 of the Roman Eclogue. When such conscious imi 
 tation takes place, it is perfectly obvious. There 
 is no mistaking the affectation of an urban lyrist, 
 whose lovers masquerade as shepherds in the court 
 of Louis XIV. 
 
 Theocritus seems to have had earlier Greek 
 models, but few readers of his Idylls can question 
 his originality, and fewer still will agree with Ma- 
 haffy in denying the naturalness of his goatherds 
 and fishermen, in a word, his genuineness. Ma- 
 haffy wavers between two statements, that -the 
 Idylls are an affectation for Alexandria, and sin 
 cere for Sicily. The two statements are by no 
 means contradictory. Much the same thing is true 
 of Canticles, the Biblical Song of Songs. It is un 
 reasonable for anyone who has seen or read about 
 a Palestinian spring, with its unique beauty of 
 flower and bird and blossom, to imagine that the 
 
 194 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 author of Canticles needed or used second-hand 
 sources of inspiration, however little his drama 
 may have accorded with the life of Jerusalem in 
 the Hellenistic period. And as the natural scenic 
 background in each case is native, so is the treat 
 ment of the love theme ; in both it is passionate, 
 but in the one it is nothing else, in the other it is 
 also spiritual. In both, the whole is artistic, but 
 not artificial. As regards the originality of the 
 love-interest in Canticles, it must suffice to say that 
 there was always a strong romantic strain in the 
 Jewish character. 
 
 Canticles is perhaps (by no means certainly) 
 post-Exilic and not far removed in date from the 
 age of Theocritus. Still, a post-Exilic Hebrew 
 poet had no more reason to go abroad for a roman 
 tic plot than Hosea, or the author of Ruth, or the 
 writer of the royal Epithalamium (Psalm xlv), 
 an almost certainly pre-Exilic composition. This 
 Psalm has been well termed a " prelude to the 
 Song of Songs," for in a real sense Canticles is an 
 ticipated and even necessitated by it. In Ruth we 
 have a romance of the golden corn-field, and the 
 author chooses the unsophisticated days of the 
 Judges as the setting of his tale. In Canticles we 
 have a contrasted picture between the simplicity of 
 
 195 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 shepherd-life and the urban voluptuousness which 
 was soon to attain its climax in the court of the 
 Ptolemies. So the poet chose the luxurious reign 
 of Solomon as the background for his exquisite 
 " melodrama." Both Ruth and Canticles are 
 home-products, and ancient Greek literature has no 
 real parallel to either. 
 
 Yet, despite the fact that the Hebrew Bible is 
 permeated through and through, in its history, its 
 psalmody, and its prophetic oratory, with images 
 drawn from love, especially in rustic guise, so com 
 petent a critic as Graetz conceived that the pastoral 
 background of the love-story of Canticles must 
 have been artificial. While most of those who 
 have accepted the theory of imitation they can 
 not have reread the Idylls and the Song as wholes 
 to persist in such a theory have contended that 
 Theocritus borrowed from Canticles, Graetz is 
 convinced that the Hebrew poet must have known 
 and imitated the Greek idyllist. The hero and 
 heroine of the Song, he thinks, are not real shep 
 herds; they are bucolic dilettanti, their shepherd- 
 role is not serious. Whence, then, this superficial 
 pastoral mise-en-scene? This critic, be it observed, 
 places Canticles in the Ptolemaic age. 
 
 "In the then Judean world," writes Graetz, "in the post- 
 196 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 Exilic period, pastoral life was in no way so distinguished as to 
 serve as a poetic foil. On the contrary, the shepherd was held 
 in contempt. Agriculture was so predominant that large herds 
 were considered a detriment; they spoiled the grain. Shepherds, 
 too, were esteemed robbers, in that they allowed their cattle to 
 graze on the lands of others. In Judea itself, in the post-Exilic 
 period, there were few pasture-grounds for such nomads. 
 Hence the song transfers the goats to Gilead, where there still 
 existed grazing-places. In the Judean world the poet could find 
 nothing to suggest the idealization of the shepherd. As he, 
 nevertheless, represents the simple life, as opposed to courtly 
 extravagance, through the figures of shepherds, he must have 
 worked from a foreign model. But Theocritus was the first 
 perfect pastoral poet. Through his influence shepherd songs be 
 came a favorite genre. He had no lack of imitators. Theocritus 
 had full reason to contrast court and rustic life and idealize the 
 latter, for in his native Sicily there were still shepherds in 
 primitive simplicity. Under his influence and that of his fol 
 lowers, it became the fashion to represent the simple life in pas 
 toral guice. The poet of Canticles who wrote for cultured 
 circles was forced to make use of the convention. But, as though 
 to excuse himself for taking a Judean shepherd as a representa 
 tive of the higher virtues, he made his shepherd one who feeds 
 among the lilies. It is not the rude neat-herds of Gilead or the 
 Judean desert that hold such noble dialogues, but shepherds of 
 delicate refinement. In a word, the whole eclogic character of 
 Canticles appears to be copied from the Theocritan model." 
 
 This contention would be conclusive, if it were 
 based on demonstrable facts. But what is the evi- 
 
 197 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 dence for it? Graetz offers none in his brilliant 
 Commentary on Canticles. In proof of his start 
 ling view that, throughout post-Exilic times, the 
 shepherd vocation was held in low repute among 
 Israelites, he merely refers to an article in his 
 Monatsschrift (1870, p. 483). When one turns 
 to that, one finds that it concerns a far later period, 
 the second Christian century, when the shepherd 
 vocation had fallen to the grade of a small and dis 
 reputable trade. The vocation was then no longer 
 a necessary corollary of the sacrificial needs of the 
 Temple. While the altar of Jerusalem required 
 its holocausts, the breeders of the animals would 
 hardly have been treated as pariahs. In the cen 
 tury immediately following the destruction of the 
 Temple, the shepherd began to fall in moral es 
 teem, and in the next century he was included 
 among the criminal categories. No doubt, too, as 
 the tender of flocks was often an Arab raider, the 
 shepherd had become a dishonest poacher on other 
 men s preserves. The attitude towards him was, 
 further, an outcome of the deepening antagonism 
 between the schoolmen and the peasantry. But 
 even then it was by no means invariable. One of 
 the most famous of Rabbis, Akiba, who died a 
 martyr in 135 c. E. ; was not only a shepherd, but 
 
 198 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 he was also the hero of the most romantic of Rab 
 binic love episodes. 
 
 At the very time when Graetz thinks that agri 
 culture had superseded pastoral pursuits in general 
 esteem, the Book of Ecclesiasticus was written. On 
 the one side, Sirach, the author of this Apocryphal 
 work, does not hesitate (ch. xxiv) to compare his 
 beloved Wisdom to a garden, in the same rustic 
 images that we find in Canticles ; and, on the other 
 side, he reveals none of that elevated appreciation 
 of agriculture which Graetz would have us expect. 
 Sirach (xxxvii. 25) asks sarcastically : 
 
 How shall he become wise that holdeth the plough, 
 That glorieth in the shaft of the goad: 
 That driveth oxen, and is occupied with their labors, 
 And whose talk is of bullocks? 
 
 Here it is the farmer that is despised, not a word 
 is hinted against the shepherd. Sirach also has 
 little fondness for commerce, and he denies the 
 possibility of wisdom to the artisan and craftsman, 
 " in whose ear is ever the noise of the hammer " 
 (ib. v. 28). Sirach, indeed, is not attacking these 
 occupations; he regards them all as a necessary 
 evil, " without these cannot a city be inhabited " 
 (v. 32). Our Jerusalem savant, as Dr. Schechter 
 well terms him, of the third or fourth century 
 
 199 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 B. c. E., is merely illustrating his thesis, that 
 
 The wisdom of the scribe cometh by opportunity of leisure; 
 And he that hath little business shall become wise, 
 
 or, as he puts it otherwise, sought for in the coun 
 cil of the people, and chosen to sit in the seat of 
 the judge. This view finds its analogue in a 
 famous saying of the later Jewish sage Hillel, 
 " Not everyone who increaseth business attains 
 wisdom" (Aboth ) ii. 5). 
 
 Undeniably, the shepherd lost in dignity in the 
 periods of Jewish prosperity and settled city life. 
 But, as George Adam Smith points out accurately, 
 the prevailing character of Judea is naturally pas 
 toral, with husbandry only incidental. " Judea, 
 indeed, offers as good ground as there is in all the 
 East for observing the grandeur of the shepherd s 
 character," his devotion, his tenderness, his op 
 portunity of leisurely communion with nature. 
 The same characterization must have held in an 
 cient times. And, after all, as Graetz himself 
 admits, the poet of Canticles locates his shepherd 
 in Gilead, the wild jasmine and other flowers of 
 whose pastures (the " lilies " of the Song) still 
 excite the admiration of travellers. Laurence Oli- 
 phant is lost in delight over the " anemones, cycla 
 mens, asphodels, iris," which burst on his view as 
 
 200 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 he rode " knee-deep through the long, rich, sweet 
 grass, abundantly studded with noble oak and tere 
 binth trees," and all this in Gilead. When, then, 
 the Hebrew poet placed his shepherd and his flocks 
 among the lilies, he was not trying to conciliate 
 the courtly aristocrats of Jerusalem, or recon 
 cile them to his Theocritan conventions; he was 
 simply drawing his picture from life. 
 
 And as to the poetical idealization of the shep 
 herd, how could a Hebrew poet fail to idealize 
 him, under the ever-present charm of his tradi 
 tional lore, of Jacob the shepherd-patriarch, 
 Moses the shepherd-lawgiver, David the shepherd- 
 king, and Amos the shepherd-prophet? So God 
 becomes the Shepherd of Israel, not only explicitly 
 in the early twenty-third Psalm, but implicitly also, 
 in the late iiQth. The same idealization is found 
 everywhere in the Rabbinic literature as well as in 
 the New Testament. Moses is the hero of the 
 beautiful Midrashic parable of the straying lamb, 
 which he seeks in the desert, and bears in his 
 bosom (Exodus Rabba, ii). There is, on the 
 other hand, something topsy-turvy in Graetz s sug 
 gestion, that a Hebrew poet would go abroad for 
 a conventional idealization of the shepherd char 
 acter, just when, on his theory, pastoral conditions 
 were scorned and lightly esteemed at home. 
 
 201 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 It was unnecessary, then, and inappropriate for 
 the author of Canticles to go to Theocritus for the 
 pastoral characters of his poem. But did he bor 
 row its form and structure from the Greek? 
 Nothing seems less akin than the slight dramatic 
 interest of the idylls and the strong, if obscure, 
 dramatic plot of Canticles. Bndde has failed al 
 together to convince readers of the Song that no 
 consistent story runs through it. It is, as has been 
 said above, incredible that we should have before 
 us nothing more than the disconnected ditties of a 
 Syrian wedding-minstrel. Graetz knew nothing 
 of the repertoire theory that has been based on 
 Wetzstein s discoveries of modern Syrian mar 
 riage songs and dances. Graetz believed, as most 
 still do, that Canticles is a whole, not an aggrega 
 tion of parts ; yet he held that, not only the drama 
 tis personae, but the very structure of the Hebrew 
 poem must be traced to Theocritus. He appeals, 
 in particular, to the second Idyll of the Greek poet, 
 wherein the lady casts her magic spells in the vain 
 hope of recovering the allegiance of her butterfly 
 admirer. Obviously, there is no kinship between 
 the facile Simaitha of the Idyll and the difficult 
 Shulammith of Canticles : one the seeker, the other 
 the sought; between the sensuous, unrestrained 
 
 202 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 passion of the former and the self-sacrificing, con 
 tinent affection of the latter. The nobler concep 
 tions of love derive from the Judean maiden, not 
 from the Greek paramour. But, argues Graetz 
 with extraordinary ingenuity, Simaitha, recounting 
 her unfortunate love-affair, introduces, as Shulam- 
 mith does, dialogues between herself and her ab 
 sent lover; she repeats what he said to her, and she 
 to him ; her monologue is no more a soliloquy than 
 are the monologues of Shulammith, for both have 
 an audience : here Thestylis, there the chorus of 
 women. Simaitha s second refrain, as she bewails 
 her love, after casting the ingredients into the 
 bowl, turning the magic wheel to draw home to 
 her the man she loves, runs thus: 
 
 Bethink thee, mistress Moon, whence came my love ! 
 
 Graetz compares this to Shulammith s refrain in 
 Canticles : 
 
 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, 
 
 By the roes, 
 
 And by the hinds of the field, 
 That ye stir not up 
 Nor awaken love, 
 
 Until it please! 
 
 But in meaning the refrains have an absolutely 
 opposite sense, and, more than that, they have an 
 
 203 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 absolutely opposite function. In the Idyll the re 
 frain is an accompaniment, in the Song it is an 
 intermezzo. It occurs three times (ii. 7; iii. 5; 
 and viii. 4), and like other repeated refrains in the 
 Song concludes a scene, marks a transition in the 
 situation. In Theocritus refrains are links, in the 
 Song they are breaks in the chain. 
 
 Refrains are of the essence of lyric poetry as 
 soon as anything like narrative enters into it. 
 They are found throughout the lyrics of the Old 
 Testament, the Psalms providing several examples. 
 They belong to the essence of the Hebrew strophic 
 system. And so it is with the other structural de 
 vices to which Graetz refers : reminiscent narrative, 
 reported dialogues, scenes within the scene all 
 are common features (with certain differences) of 
 the native Hebraic style, and they supply no justi 
 fication for the suggestion of borrowing from non- 
 Hebraic models. 
 
 There have, on the other side, been many, es 
 pecially among older critics, who have contended 
 that Theocritus owed his inspiration to Canticles. 
 These have not been disturbed by the considera 
 tion, that, if he borrowed at all, he must assuredly 
 have borrowed more than the most generous of 
 them assert that he did. Recently an ingenious 
 
 204 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 advocate of this view has appeared in Professor 
 D. S. Margoliouth, all of whose critical work is 
 rich in originality and surprises. In the first chap 
 ter of his " Lines of Defence of the Biblical Reve 
 lation," he turns the tables on Graetz with quite 
 entertaining thoroughness. Graetz was certain 
 that no Hebrew poet could have drawn his shep 
 herds from life; Margoliouth is equally sure that 
 no Greek could have done so. 
 
 "That this style [bucolic poetry], in which highly artificial 
 performances are ascribed to shepherds and cowherds, should 
 have originated in Greece, would be surprising; for the persons 
 who followed these callings were ordinarily slaves, or humble 
 hirelings, whom the classical writers treat with little respect. 
 But from the time of Theocritus their profession becomes asso 
 ciated with poetic art. The shepherd s clothes are donned by 
 Virgil, Spenser, and Milton. The existence of the Greek transla 
 tion of the Song of Solomon gives us the explanation of this fact. 
 The Song of Solomon is a pastoral poem, but its pictures are true 
 to nature. The father of the writer [Margoliouth believes in the 
 Solomonic authorship of Canticles], himself both a king and a 
 poet, had kept sheep. The combination of court life with country 
 life, which in Theocritus seems so unnatural, was perfectly 
 natural in pre-Exilic Palestine. Hence the rich descriptions of 
 the country (ii. 12) beside the glowing descriptions of the king s 
 wealth (iii. 10). Theocritus can match both (Idylls vii and xv), 
 but it may be doubted whether he could have found any Greek 
 model for either." 
 
 205 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 It is disturbing to one s confidence in the value 
 of Biblical criticism both of the liberal school 
 (Graetz) and the conservative (Margoliouth) 
 to come across so complete an antithesis. But 
 things are not quite so bad as they look. Each 
 critic is half right Margoliouth in believing the 
 pastoral pictures of Canticles true to Judean life, 
 Graetz in esteeming the pastoral pictures of the 
 Idylls true to Sicilian life. The English critic sup 
 ports his theme with some philological arguments. 
 He suggests that the vagaries of the Theocritan 
 dialect are due to the fact that the Idyllist was a 
 foreigner, whose native language was " probably 
 Hebrew or Syriac." Or perhaps Theocritus used 
 the Greek translation of the Song, " unless The 
 ocritus himself was the translator." All of this is 
 a capital jeu d esprit, but it is scarcely possible that 
 Canticles was translated into Greek so early as 
 Theocritus, and, curiously enough, the Septuagint 
 Greek version of the Song has less linguistic like 
 ness to the phraseology of Theocritus than has 
 the Greek version of the Song by a contempo 
 rary of Akiba, the proselyte Aquila. Margoliouth 
 points out a transference by Theocritus of the 
 word for daughter-in-law to the meaning bride 
 (Idyll, xviii. 15). This is a Hebraism, he thinks. 
 
 206 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 But expansions of meaning in words signifying 
 relationship are common to all poets. Far more 
 curious is a transference of this kind that Theoc 
 ritus does not make. Had he known Canticles, 
 he would surely have seized upon the Hebrew 
 use of sister to mean beloved, a usage which, in 
 nocent and tender enough in the Hebrew, would 
 have been highly acceptable to the incestuous pat 
 ron of Theocritus, who actually married his full 
 sister. Strange to say, the ancient Egyptian love 
 poetry employs the terms brother and sister as 
 regular denotations of a pair of lovers. 
 
 This last allusion to an ancient Egyptian simi 
 larity to a characteristic usage of Canticles leads to 
 the remark, that Maspero and Spiegelberg have 
 both published hieroglyphic poems of the xixth- 
 xxth Dynasties, in which may be found other paral 
 lels to the metaphors and symbolism of the He 
 brew Song. As earlier writers exaggerated the 
 likeness of Canticles to Theocritus, so Maspero 
 was at first inclined to exaggerate the affinity of 
 Canticles to the old Egyptian amatory verse. It 
 is not surprising, but it is saddening, to find that 
 Maspero, summarizing his interesting discovery in 
 1883, used almost the same language as Lessing 
 had used in 1777 with reference to Theocritus. 
 
 207 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 Maspero, it is true, was too sane a critic to assert 
 borrowing on the part of Canticles. But he speaks 
 of the " same manner of speech, the same images, 
 the same comparisons," as Lessing does. Now if 
 A = B, and B = C, then it follows that A=C. But 
 in this case A does not equal C. There is no simi 
 larity at all between the Egyptian Songs and The 
 ocritus. It follows that there is no essential like 
 ness betwen Canticles and either of the other two. 
 In his later books, Maspero has tacitly withdrawn 
 his assertion of close Egyptian similarity, and it 
 would be \vell if an equally frank withdrawal were 
 made by the advocates of a close Theocritan 
 parallel. 
 
 Some of the suggested resemblances between 
 the Hebrew and Greek Songs are perhaps inter 
 esting enough to be worth examining in detail. In 
 Idyll i. 24, the goatherd offers this reward to 
 Thyrsis, if he will but sing the song of Daphnis: 
 
 I ll give thee first 
 
 To milk, ay, thrice, a goat; she suckles twins, 
 Yet ne ertheless can fill two milkpails full. 
 
 It can hardly be put forward as a remarkable fact 
 that the poet should refer to so common an inci 
 dent in sheep-breeding as the birth of twins. Yet 
 the twins have been forced into the dispute, though 
 
 208 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 it is hard to conceive anything more unlike than 
 the previous quotation and the one that follows 
 from Canticles (iv. 2) : 
 
 Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes, 
 That are newly shorn, 
 Which are come up from the washing, 
 
 Whereof every one hath twins, 
 
 And none is bereaved among them. 
 
 It is doubtful whether the Hebrew knows any 
 thing at all of the twin-bearing ewes; the penulti 
 mate line ought rather to be rendered (as in the 
 margin of the Revised Version) " thy teeth .... 
 which are all of them in pairs." But, however 
 rendered, the Hebrew means this. Theocritus 
 speaks of the richness of the goat s milk, for, after 
 having fed her twins, she has still enough milk to 
 fill two pails. In Canticles, the maiden s teeth, 
 spotlessly white, are smooth and even, " they run 
 accurately in pairs, the upper corresponding to the 
 lower, and none of them is wanting " (Harper). 
 
 Even more amusing is the supposed indebted 
 ness on one side or the other in the reference made 
 by Theocritus and Canticles to the ravages of 
 foxes in vineyards. Theocritus has these beautiful 
 lines in his first Idyll (lines 44 et seq.) : 
 14 209 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 Hard by that wave-beat sire a vineyard bends 
 Beneath its graceful load of burnished grapes; 
 A boy sits on the rude fence watching them. 
 Near him two foxes: down the rows of grapes 
 One ranging steals the ripest; one assails 
 With wiles the poor lad s scrip, to leave him soon 
 Stranded and supperless. He plaits meanwhile 
 With ears of corn a right fine cricket-trap, 
 And fits it in a rush: for vines, for scrip, 
 Little he cares, enamored of his toy. 
 
 How different the scene in Canticles (ii. 14 et seq.) 
 that has been quoted above ! 
 
 Take us the foxes, 
 
 The little foxes, 
 
 That spoil the vineyards, 
 For our vineyards are in blossom ! 
 
 Canticles alludes to the destruction of the young 
 shoots, Theocritus pictures the foxes devouring the 
 ripe grapes. (Comp. also Idyll v. 112.) Foxes 
 commit both forms of depredation, but the poets 
 have seized on different aspects of the fact. Even 
 were the aspects identical, it would be ridiculous 
 to suppose that the Sicilian or Judean had been 
 guilty of plagiarism. To-day, as of old, in the 
 vineyards of Palestine you may see the little stone 
 huts of the watchers on the lookout for the foxes, 
 
 210 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 or jackals, whose visitations begin in the late spring 
 and continue to the autumn. In Canticles we have 
 a genuine fragment of native Judean folk-song; in 
 Theocritus an equally native item of every sea 
 son s observation. 
 
 So with most of the other parallels. It is only 
 necessary to set out the passages in full, to see that 
 the similarity is insignificant in relation to the real 
 differences. One would have thought that any 
 poet dealing with rustic beauty might light on the 
 fact that a sunburnt skin may be attractive. Yet 
 Margoliouth dignifies this simple piece of observa 
 tion into a theory! " The theory that swarthiness 
 produced by sun-burning need not be disfiguring to 
 a woman " is, Margoliouth holds, taken by The 
 ocritus from Canticles. Graetz, as usual, reverses 
 the relation: Canticles took it from Theocritus. 
 But beyond the not very recondite idea that a sun 
 burnt maid may still be charming, there is no paral 
 lel. Battus sings (Idyll x. 26 et seq.) : 
 
 Fair Bombyca ! thee do men report 
 
 Lean, dusk, a gipsy: I alone nut-brown. 
 
 Violets and pencilled hyacinths are swart, 
 
 Yet first of flowers they re chosen for a crown. 
 
 As goats pursue the clover, wolves the goat, 
 
 And cranes the ploughman, upon thee I dote ! 
 211 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 In Canticles the Shulammite protests (L 5 et seq.) : 
 
 I am black but comely, 
 
 O ye daughters of Jerusalem! 
 [Black] as the tents of Kedar, 
 [Comely] as the curtains of Solomon. 
 
 Despise me not because I am swarthy, 
 Because the sun hath scorched me. 
 My mother s sons were incensed against me, 
 They made me the keeper of the vineyards, 
 But mine own vineyard I have not kept! 
 
 Two exquisite lyrics these, of which it is hard to 
 say which has been more influential as a key-note 
 of later poetry. But neither of them is derived; 
 each is too spontaneous, too fresh from the poet s 
 soul. 
 
 Before turning to one rather arrestive parallel, 
 a word may be said on Graetz s idea, that Can 
 ticles uses the expression " love s arrows." Were 
 this so, the symbolism could scarcely be attributed 
 to other than a Greek original. The line occurs 
 in the noble panegyric of love cited , before, with 
 which Canticles ends, and in which the whole 
 drama culminates. There is no room in this eulogy 
 for Graetz s rendering, " Her arrows are fiery 
 arrows," nor can the Hebrew easily mean it. 
 " The flashes thereof are flashes of fire," is the 
 
 212 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 best translation possible of the Hebrew line. 
 There is nothing Greek in the comparison of love 
 to fire, for fire is used in common Hebrew idiom 
 to denote any powerful emotion (comp. the asso 
 ciation of fire with jealousy in Ezekiel xxxix. 4). 
 
 Ewald, while refusing to connect the Idylls with 
 Canticles, admitted, that one particular parallel is 
 at first sight forcible. It is the comparison of both 
 Helen and Shulammith to a horse. Margoliouth 
 thinks the Greek inexplicable without the Hebrew ; 
 Graetz thinks the Hebrew inexplicable without the 
 Greek. In point of fact, the Hebrew and the 
 Greek do not explain each other in the least. In 
 the Epithalamium (Idyll xviii. 30) Theocritus 
 writes, 
 
 Or as in a chariot a mare of Thessalian breed, 
 So is rose-red Helen, the glory of Lacedemon. 
 
 The exact point of comparison is far from clear, 
 but it must be some feature of beauty or grace. 
 Such a comparison, says Margoliouth, is extraordi 
 nary in a Greek poet; he must have derived it from 
 a non-Greek source. But it has escaped this critic 
 and all the commentaries on Theocritus, that just 
 this comparison is perfectly natural for a Sicilian 
 poet, familiar with several series of Syracusan 
 coins of all periods, on which appear chariots with 
 
 213 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 Nike driving horses of the most delicate beauty, 
 fit figures to compare to a maiden s grace of form. 
 Theocritus, however, does not actually compare 
 Helen to the horse; she beautifies or sets off Lace- 
 demon as the horse sets off the chariot. Graetz, 
 convinced that the figure is Greek, pronounces the 
 Hebrew unintelligible without it. But it is quite 
 appropriate to the Hebrew poet. Having identi 
 fied his royal lover with Solomon, the poet was 
 almost driven to make some allusion to Solomon s 
 famed exploit in importing costly horses and chari 
 ots from Egypt (I Kings x. 26-29). And so Can 
 ticles says (i. 9) : 
 
 I have compared thee, O my love, 
 To a team of horses, in Pharaoh s chariots. 
 Thy cheeks are comely with rows of pearls, 
 Thy neck with chains of gold. 
 
 The last couplet refers to the ornaments of the 
 horse s bridle and neck. Now, to the Hebrew the 
 horse was almost invariably associated with war. 
 The Shulammite is elsewhere (vi. 4) termed " ter 
 rible as an army with banners." In Theocritus the 
 comparison is primarily to Helen s beauty; in Can 
 ticles to the Shulammite s awesomeness, 
 
 Turn away thine eyes from me, 
 For they have made me afraid. 
 214 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 These foregoing points of resemblance are the 
 most significant that have been adduced. And 
 they are not only seen to be each unimportant and 
 inconclusive, but they have no cumulative effect. 
 Taken as wholes, as was said above, the Idylls and 
 Canticles are the poles asunder in their moral atti 
 tude towards love and in their general literary 
 treatment of the theme. Of course, poets describ 
 ing the spring will always speak of the birds; 
 Greek and Hebrew loved flowers, Jew and Egyp 
 tian heard the turtle-dove as a harbinger of na 
 ture s rebirth ; sun and moon are everywhere types 
 of warm and tender feelings; love is the converter 
 of a winter of discontent into a glorious summer. 
 In all love poems the wooer would fain embrace 
 the wooed. And if she prove coy, he will tell of 
 the menial parts he would be ready to perform, to 
 continue unrebuked in her vicinity. Anacreon s 
 lover (xx) would be water in which the maid 
 should bathe, and the Egyptian sighs, " Were I but 
 the washer of her clothes, I should breathe the 
 scent of her." Or the Egyptian will cry, " O were 
 I the ring on her finger, that I might be ever with 
 her," just as the Shulammite bids her beloved 
 (though in another sense) " Place me as a seal 
 on thine hand" (Cant. viii. 6). Love intoxicates 
 
 215 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 like wine; the maiden has a honeyed tongue; her 
 forehead and neck are like ivory. Nothing in all 
 this goes beyond the identity of feeling that lies 
 behind all poetical expression. But even in this 
 realm of metaphor and image and symbolism, 
 the North-Semitic wasf and even more the He 
 braic parallels given in other parts of the Bible are 
 closer far. Hosea xiv. 6-9 (with its lilies, its fig 
 ure of Israel growing in beauty as the olive tree, 
 " and his smell as Lebanon"), Proverbs (with 
 its eulogy of faithful wedded love, its lips dropping 
 honeycomb, its picture of a bed perfumed with 
 myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon, the wife to love whom 
 is to drink water from one s own well, and she the 
 pleasant roe and loving hind) these and the 
 royal Epithalamium (Ps. xlv), and other Biblical 
 passages too numerous to quote, constitute the real 
 parallels to the imagery and idealism of Canticles. 
 The only genuine resemblance arises from iden 
 tity of environment. If Theocritus and the poet 
 of Canticles were contemporaries, they wrote when 
 there had been a somewhat sudden growth of 
 town life both in Egypt and Palestine. Alexander 
 the Great and his immediate successors were the 
 most assiduous builders of new cities that the 
 world has ever seen. The charms of town life 
 
 216 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 made an easy conquest of the Orient. But pastoral 
 life would not surrender without a struggle. It 
 would, during this violent revolution in habits, re 
 assert itself from time to time. We can suppose 
 that after a century of experience of the delusions 
 of urban comfort, the denizens of towns would 
 welcome a reminder of the delights of life under 
 the open sky. There would be a longing for some 
 thing fresher, simpler, freer. At such a moment 
 Theocritus, like the poet of Canticles, had an irre 
 sistible opportunity, and to this extent the Idylls 
 and the Song are parallel. 
 
 But, on the other hand, when we pass from ex 
 ternal conditions to intrinsic purport, nothing 
 shows better the difference between Theocritus and 
 Canticles than the fact that the Hebrew poem has 
 been so susceptible of allegorization. Though the 
 religious, symbolical interpretation of the Song be 
 far from its primary meaning, yet in the Hebrew 
 muse the sensuous and the mystical glide imper 
 ceptibly into one another. And this is true of 
 Semitic poetry in general. It is possible to give a 
 mystical turn to the quatrains of Omar Khayyam. 
 But this can hardly be done with Anacreon. There 
 is even less trace of Semitic mysticism in Theocri 
 tus than in Anacreon. Idylls and Canticles have 
 
 217 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 some similarities. But these are only skin deep. 
 In their heart of hearts the Greek and Judean 
 poets are strangers, and so are their heroes and 
 heroines. 
 
 No apology is needed for the foregoing lengthy 
 discussion of the Song of Songs, seeing that it is 
 incomparably the finest love poem in the Hebrew, 
 or any other language. And this is true whatever 
 be one s opinion of its primary significance. It 
 was no doubt its sacred interpretation that im 
 parted to it so lasting a power over religious sym 
 bolism. But its human import also entered into 
 its eternal influence. The Greek peasants of 
 Macedonia still sing echoes from the Hebrew song. 
 Still may be heard, in modern Greek love chants, 
 the sweet old phrase, " black but comely," a favor 
 ite phrase with all swarthy races; " my sister, my 
 bride " remains as the most tender term of endear 
 ment. To a certain extent the service has been re 
 paid. Some of the finest melodies to which the 
 Synagogue hymns, or Piyyutim, are set, are the 
 melodies to Achoth Ketannah, based on Canticles 
 viii. 8, and Berach Dodi, a frequent phrase of the 
 Hebrew book. The latter melody is similar to 
 the finer melodies of the Levant; the former strik 
 ingly recalls the contemporary melodies of the 
 
 218 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 Greek Archipelago. To turn a final glance at the 
 other side of the indebtedness, we need only recall 
 that Edmund Spenser s famous Marriage Ode 
 the Epithalamium the noblest marriage ode in 
 the English language, and Milton s equally famous 
 description of Paradise in the fourth book of his 
 Epic, owe a good deal to direct imitation of the 
 Song of Songs. It is scarcely an exaggeration to 
 assert that the stock-in-trade of many an erotic 
 poet is simply the phraseology of the divine song 
 which we have been considering so inadequately. 
 It did not start as a repertoire ; it has ended as one. 
 We must now make a great stride through the 
 ages. Between the author of the Song of Songs 
 and the next writer of inspired Hebrew love songs 
 there stretches an interval of at least fourteen cen 
 turies. It is an oft-told story, how, with the de 
 struction of the Temple, the Jewish desire for song 
 temporarily ceased. The sorrow-laden heart 
 could not sing of love. The disuse of a faculty 
 leads to its loss; and so, with the cessation of the 
 desire for song, the gift of singing became atro 
 phied. But the decay was not quite complete. It 
 is commonly assumed that post-Biblical Hebrew 
 poetry revived for sacred ends; first hymns were 
 written, then secular songs. But Dr. Brody has 
 
 219 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 proved that this assumption is erroneous. In 
 point of fact, the first Hebrew poetry after the 
 Bible was secular not religious. We find in the 
 pages of Talmud and Midrash relics and frag 
 ments of secular poetry, snatches of bridal songs, 
 riddles, elegies, but less evidence of a religious 
 poetry. True, when once the medieval burst of 
 Hebrew melody established itself, the Hebrew 
 hymns surpassed the secular Hebrew poems in 
 originality and inspiration. But the secular verses, 
 whether on ordinary subjects, or as addresses to 
 famous men, and invocations on documents, at 
 times far exceed the religious poems in range and 
 number. And in many ways the secular poetry de 
 serves very close attention. A language is not liv 
 ing when it is merely ecclesiastical. No one calls 
 Sanskrit a living language because some Indian 
 sects still pray in Sanskrit. But when Jewish poets 
 took to using Hebrew again if, indeed, they ever 
 ceased to use it as the language of daily life, as 
 the medium for expressing their human emotions, 
 then one can see that the sacred tongue was on the 
 way to becoming once more what it is to-day in 
 many parts of Palestine the living tongue of 
 men. 
 
 It must not be thought that in the Middle Ages 
 220 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 there were two classes of Hebrew poets : those 
 who wrote hymns and those who wrote love songs. 
 With the exception of Solomon ibn Gabirol a 
 big exception, I admit the best love songs were 
 written by the best hymn writers. Even Ibn Gabi 
 rol, who, so far as we know, wrote no love songs, 
 composed other kinds of secular poetry. One of 
 the favorite poetical forms of the Middle Ages 
 consisted of metrical letters to friends one may 
 almost assert that the best Hebrew love poetry is 
 of this type epistles of affection between man and 
 man, expressing a love passing the love of woman. 
 Ibn Gabirol wrote such epistles, but the fact re 
 mains that we know of no love verses from his 
 hand; perhaps this confirms the tradition that he 
 was the victim of an unrequited affection. 
 
 Thus the new form opens not with Ibn Gabirol, 
 but with Samuel ibn Nagrela. He was Vizier of 
 the Khalif, and Nagid, or Prince, of the Jews, in 
 the eleventh century in Spain, and, besides Syna 
 gogue hymns and Talmudic treatises, he wrote 
 love lyrics. The earlier hymns of Kalir have, in 
 deed, a strong emotional undertone, but the Span 
 ish school may justly claim to have created a new 
 form. And this new form opens with Samuel the 
 Nagid s pretty verses on his " Stammering Love," 
 
 221 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 who means to deny, but stammers out assent. I 
 cite the metrical German version of Dr. Egers, 
 because I have found it impossible to reproduce 
 (Dr. Egers is not very precise or happy in his at 
 tempt to reproduce) the puns of the original. The 
 sense, however, is clear. The stammering maid s 
 words, being mumbled, convey an invitation, when 
 they were intended to repulse her loving admirer. 
 
 Wo ist mein stammelnd Lieb? 
 Wo sie, die wurz ge, blieb? 
 Verdunkelt der Mond der Sterne Licht, 
 Ueberstrahlt den Mond ihr Angesicht! 
 Wie Schwalbe, wie Kranich, die 
 Bei ihrer Ankunft girren, 
 Vertraut auf ihren Gott auch sie 
 In ihrer Zunge Irren. 
 
 Mir schmollend rief sie " Erzdieb," 
 Hervor doch haucht sie " Herzdieb " 
 Hin springe ich zum Herzlieb. 
 " Ehrloser ! " statt zu wehren, 
 " Her, Loser ! " lasst sie horen ; 
 Nur rascher dem Begehren 
 Folgt ich mit ihr zu kosen, 
 Die lieblich ist wie Rosen. 
 
 This poem deserves attention, as it is one of the 
 first, if not actually the very first, of its kind. The 
 Hebrew poet is forsaking the manner of the Bible 
 
 222 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 for the manner of the Arabs. One point of re 
 semblance between the new Hebrew and the Ara 
 bic love poetry is obscured in the translation. In 
 the Hebrew of Samuel the Nagid the terms of 
 endearment, applied though they are to a girl, are 
 all in the masculine gender. This, as Dr. Egers 
 observes, is a common feature of the Arabic and 
 Persian love poetry of ancient and modern times. 
 An Arab poet will praise his fair one s face as 
 " bearded " with garlands of lilies. Hafiz de 
 scribes a girl s cheeks as roses within a net of vio 
 lets, the net referring to the beard. Jehudah Halevi 
 uses this selfsame image, and Moses ibn Ezra and 
 the rest also employ manly figures of speech in por 
 traying beautiful women. All this goes to show 
 how much, besides rhyme and versification, medi 
 eval Hebrew love poetry owed to Arabic models. 
 Here, for instance, is an Arabic poem, whose au 
 thor, Radhi Billah, died in 940, that is, before the 
 Spanish Jewish poets began to write of love. To 
 an Arabic poet Laila replaces the Lesbia of Catul 
 lus and the Chloe of the Elizabethans. This 
 tenth century Arabic poem runs thus : 
 
 Laila, whene er I gaze on thee, 
 
 My altered cheeks turn pale; 
 While upon thine, sweet maid, I see 
 
 A deep ning blush prevail. 
 223 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 Laila, shall I the cause impart 
 Why such a change takes place? 
 
 The crimson stream deserts my heart 
 To mantle on thy face. 
 
 Here we have fully in bloom, in the tenth cen 
 tury, those conceits which meet us, not only in the 
 Hebrew poets of the next two centuries, but also 
 in the English poets of the later Elizabethan age. 
 It is very artificial and scarcely sincere, but also un 
 deniably attractive. Or, again, in the lines of Zo- 
 heir, addressed by the lover to a messenger that 
 has just brought tidings from the beloved, 
 
 Oh ! let me look upon thine eyes again, 
 For they have looked upon the maid I love, 
 
 we have, in the thirteenth century, the very airs 
 and tricks of the cavalier poets. In fact, it can 
 not be too often said that love poetry, like love it 
 self, is human and eternal, not of a people and an 
 age, but of all men and all times. Though 
 fashions change in poetry as in other ornament, 
 still the language of love has a long life, and age 
 after age the same conceits and terms of endear 
 ment meet us. Thus Hafiz has these lines, 
 
 I praise God who made day and night: 
 Day thy countenance, and thy hair the night. 
 224 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 Long before him the Hebrew poet Abraham ibn 
 Ezra had written, 
 
 On thy cheeks and the hair of thy head 
 
 I will bless: He formeth light and maketh darkness. 
 
 In the thirteenth century the very same witticism 
 meets us again, in the Hebrew Machberoth of Im- 
 manuel. But obviously it would be an endless 
 task to trace the similarities of poetic diction be 
 tween Hebrew and other poets : suffice it to realize 
 that such similarities exist. 
 
 Such similarities did not, however, arise only 
 from natural causes. They were, in part at all 
 events, due to artificial compulsion. It is well to 
 bear this in mind, for the recurrence of identical 
 images in Hebrew love poem after love poem im 
 presses a Western reader as a defect. To the Ori 
 ental reader, on the contrary, the repetition of 
 metaphors seemed a merit. It was one of the rules 
 of the game. In his " Literary History of Per 
 sia " Professor Browne makes this so clear that a 
 citation from him will save me many pages. Pro 
 fessor Browne (ii, 83) analyzes Sharafu d-Din 
 Kami s rhetorical handbook entitled the " Lover s 
 Companion." The " Companion " legislates as 
 to the similes and figures that may be used in de 
 scribing the features of a girl. 
 15 225 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 " It contains nineteen chapters, treating respectively of the hair, 
 the forehead, the eyebrows, the eyes, the eyelashes, the face, the 
 down on lips and cheeks, the mole or beauty-spot, the lips, the 
 teeth, the mouth, the chin, the neck, the bosom, the arm, the 
 fingers, the figure, the waist, and the legs. In each chapter the 
 author first gives the various terms applied by the Arabs and 
 Persians to the part which he is discussing, differentiating them 
 when any difference in meaning exists; then the metaphors used 
 by writers in speaking of them, and the epithets applied to them, 
 the whole copiously illustrated by examples from the poets." 
 
 No other figures of speech would be admissible. 
 Now this " Companion " belongs to the fourteenth 
 century, and the earlier Arabic and Persian poetry 
 was less fettered. But principles of this kind 
 clearly affected the Hebrew poets, and hence there 
 arises a certain monotony in the songs, especially 
 when they are read in translation. The monotony 
 is not so painfully prominent in the originals. For 
 the translator can only render the substance, and 
 the substance is often more conventional than the 
 nuances of form, the happy turns and subtleties, 
 which evaporate in the process of translation, leav 
 ing only the conventional sediment behind. 
 
 This is true even of Jehudah Halevi, though in 
 him we hear a genuinely original note. In his Syn 
 agogue hymns he joins hands with the past, with 
 the Psalmists; in his love poems he joins hands 
 
 226 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 with the future, with Heine. His love poetry is 
 at once dainty and sincere. He draws indiscrimi 
 nately on Hebrew and Arabic models, but he is no 
 mere imitator. I will not quote much from him, 
 for his best verses are too familiar. Those exam 
 ples which I must present are given in a new and 
 hitherto unpublished translation by Mrs. Lucas. 
 
 MARRIAGE SONG 
 
 Fair is my dove, my loved one, 
 None can with her compare: 
 Yea, comely as Jerusalem, 
 Like unto Tirzah fair. 
 
 Shall she in tents unstable 
 
 A wanderer abide, 
 While in my heart awaits her 
 
 A dwelling deep and wide? 
 
 The magic of her beauty 
 
 Has stolen my heart away: 
 Not Egypt s wise enchanters 
 
 Held half such wondrous sway. 
 
 E en as the changing opal 
 
 In varying lustre glows, 
 Her face at every moment 
 
 New charms and sweetness shows. 
 227 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 White lilies and red roses 
 There blossom on one stem: 
 
 Her lips of crimson berries 
 Tempt mine to gather them. 
 
 By dusky tresses shaded 
 
 Her brow gleams fair and pale, 
 Like to the sun at twilight, 
 
 Behind a cloudy veil. 
 
 Her beauty shames the day-star, 
 And makes the darkness light: 
 
 Day in her radiant presence 
 Grows seven times more bright. 
 
 This is a lonely lover ! 
 
 Come, fair one, to his side, 
 That happy be together 
 The bridegroom and the bride! 
 
 The hour of love approaches 
 That shall make one of twain: 
 
 Soon may be thus united 
 All Israel s hosts again ! 
 
 OPHRAH 
 
 To her sleeping Love 
 Awake, my fair, my love, awake, 
 
 That I may gaze on thee! 
 And if one fain to kiss thy lips 
 Thou in thy dreams dost see, 
 Lo, I myself then of thy dream 
 The interpreter will be! 
 228 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 TO OPHRAH 
 
 Ophrah shall wash her garments white 
 
 In rivers of my tears, 
 And dry them in the radiance bright 
 
 That shines when she appears. 
 Thus will she seek no sun nor water nigh, 
 Her beauty and mine eyes will all her needs supply. 
 
 These lovers tears often meet us in the Hebrew 
 poems. Ibn Gabirol speaks of his tears as ferti 
 lizing his heart and preserving it from crumbling 
 into dust. Mostly, however, the Hebrew lover s 
 tears, when they are not tokens of grief at the ab 
 sence of the beloved, are the involuntary confes 
 sion of the man s love. It is the men who must 
 weep in these poems. Charizi sings of the lover 
 whose heart succeeds in concealing its love, whose 
 lips contrive to maintain silence on the subject, but 
 his tears play traitor and betray his affection to all 
 the world. Dr. Sulzbach aptly quotes parallels to 
 this fancy from Goethe and Brentano. 
 
 This suggestion of parallelism between a medi 
 eval Hebrew poet and Goethe must be my excuse 
 for an excursion into what seems to me one of the 
 most interesting examples of the kind. In one of 
 his poems Jehudah Halevi has these lines : 
 
 229 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 SEPARATION 
 So we must be divided! Sweetest, stay! 
 
 Once more mine eyes would seek thy glance s light! 
 At night I shall recall thee ; thou, I pray, 
 
 Be mindful of the days of our delight! 
 Come to me in my dreams, I ask of thee, 
 And even in thy dreams be gentle unto me ! 
 
 If thou shouldst send me greeting in the grave, 
 The cold breath of the grave itself were sweet; 
 
 Oh, take my life ! my life, tis all I have, 
 If I should make thee live I do entreat ! 
 
 I think that I shall hear, when I am dead, 
 
 The rustle of thy gown, thy footsteps overhead. 
 
 It is this last image that has so interesting a 
 literary history as to tempt me into a digression. 
 But first a word must be said of the translation and 
 the translator. The late Amy Levy made this 
 rendering, not from the Hebrew, but from Geiger s 
 German with obvious indebtedness to Emma 
 Lazarus. So excellent, however, was Geiger s 
 German that Miss Levy got quite close to the 
 meaning of the original, though thirty-eight He 
 brew lines are compressed into twelve English. 
 Literally rendered, the Hebrew of the last lines 
 runs: 
 
 Would that, when I am dead, to mine ears may rise 
 The music of the golden bell upon thy skirts. 
 230 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 This image of the bell is purely Hebraic; it is, of 
 course, derived from the High Priest s vest 
 ments. Jehudah Halevi often employs it to express 
 melodious proclamation of virtue, or the widely- 
 borne voice of fame. Here he uses it in another 
 context, and though the image of the bell is not 
 repeated, yet some famous lines from Tenny 
 son s " Maud" at once come into one s mind: 
 
 She is coming, my own, my sweet; 
 
 Were it ever so light a tread, 
 My heart would hear her and beat, 
 
 Were it earth in an earthy bed; 
 My dust would hear her and beat, 
 
 Had I lain for a century dead ; 
 Would start and tremble under her feet, 
 
 And blossom in purple and red. 
 
 It is thus that the lyric poetry of one age affects, 
 or finds its echo in, that of another, but in this par 
 ticular case it is, of course, a natural thought that 
 true love must survive the grave. There is a mys 
 tical union between the two souls, which death can 
 not end. Here, again, we meet the close connec 
 tion between love and mysticism, which lies at the 
 root of all deep love poetry. But we must attend 
 to the literary history of the thought for a moment 
 longer. Moses ibn Ezra, though more famous 
 
 231 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 for his Synagogue hymns, had some lyric gifts of a 
 lighter touch, and he wrote love songs on occasion. 
 In one of these the poet represents a dying wife 
 as turning to her husband with the pathetic prayer, 
 " Remember the covenant of our youth, and 
 knock at the door of my grave with a hand of 
 love." 
 
 I will allude only to one other parallel, which 
 carries us to a much earlier period. Here is an 
 Arab song of Taubah, son of Al-Humaiyir, who 
 lived in the seventh century. It must be remem 
 bered that it was an ancient Arabic folk-idea that 
 the spirits of the dead became owls. 
 
 Ah, if but Laila would send me a greeting down 
 
 of grace, though between us lay the dust and flags of stone, 
 
 My greeting of joy should spring in answer, or there should cry 
 toward her an owl, ill bird that shrieks in the gloom of graves. 
 
 C. J. L. Lyall, writing of the author of these 
 lines, Taubah, informs us that he was the cousin 
 of Laila, a woman of great beauty. Taubah had 
 loved her when they were children in the desert to 
 gether, but her father refused to give her to him 
 in marriage. He led a stormy life, and met his 
 death in a fight during the reign of Mu awiyah. 
 Laila long survived him, but never forgot him or 
 
 232 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 his love for her. She attained great fame as a 
 poetess, and died during the reign of Abd-al- 
 Malik, son of Marwan, at an advanced age. " A 
 tale is told of her death in which these verses fig 
 ure. She was making a journey with her husband 
 when they passed by the grave of Taubah. Laila, 
 who was travelling in a litter, cried, By God! I 
 will not depart hence till I greet Taubah. Her 
 husband endeavored to dissuade her, but she would 
 not hearken; so at last he allowed her. And she 
 had her camel driven up the mound on which the 
 tomb was, and said, Peace to thee, O Taubah! 
 Then she turned her face to the people and said, 
 I never knew him to speak falsely until this day. 
 What meanest thou? said they. Was it not he, 
 she answered, who said 
 
 Ah, if but Laila would send a greeting down 
 
 of grace, though between us lay the dust and flags of stone, 
 My greeting of joy should spring in answer, or there should cry 
 
 toward her an owl, ill bird that shrieks in the gloom of graves. 
 
 Nay, but I have greeted him, and he has not an 
 swered as he said. Now, there was a she-owl 
 crouching in the gloom by the side of the grave; 
 and when it saw the litter and the crowd of people, 
 it was frightened and flew in the face of the camel. 
 
 233 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 And the camel was startled and cast Laila head 
 long on the ground; and she died that hour, and 
 was buried by the side of Taubah." 
 
 The fascination of such parallels is fatal to pro 
 portion in an essay such as this. But I cannot 
 honestly assert that I needed the space for other 
 aspects of my subject. I have elsewhere fully de 
 scribed the Wedding Odes which Jehudah Halevi 
 provided so abundantly, and which were long a 
 regular feature of every Jewish marriage. But, 
 after the brilliant Spanish period, Hebrew love 
 songs lose their right to high literary rank. Satires 
 on woman s wiles replace praises of her charms. 
 On the other hand, what of inspiration the Hebrew 
 poet felt in the erotic field beckoned towards mys 
 ticism. In the paper which opens this volume, I 
 have written sufficiently and to spare of the woman- 
 haters. At Barcelona, in the age of Zabara, Abra 
 ham ibn Chasdai did the best he could with his 
 misogynist material, but he could get no nearer to 
 a compliment than this, " Her face has the shim 
 mer of a lamp, but it burns when held too close " 
 (" Prince and Dervish," ch. xviii). The Hebrew 
 attacks on women are clever, but superficial; they 
 show no depth of insight into woman s character, 
 and are far less effective than Pope s satires. 
 
 234 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 The boldest and ablest Hebrew love poet of the 
 satirical school is Immanuel of Rome, a younger 
 contemporary of Dante. He had wit, but not 
 enough of it to excuse his ribaldry. He tells many 
 a light tale of his amours; a pretty face is always 
 apt to attract him and set his pen scribbling. As 
 with the English dramatists of the Restoration, 
 virtue and beauty are to Immanuel almost contra 
 dictory terms. For the most part, wrinkled old 
 crones are the only decent women in his pages. 
 His pretty women have morals as easy as the 
 author professes. In the second of his Machbe- 
 roth he contrasts two girls, Tamar and Beriah; on 
 the one he showers every epithet of honor, at the 
 other he hurls every epithet of abuse, only be 
 cause Tamar is pretty, and Beriah the reverse. 
 Tamar excites the love of the angels, Beriah s face 
 makes even the devil fly. This disagreeable pose 
 of Immanuel was not confined to his age; it has 
 spoilt some of the best work of W. S. Gilbert. The 
 following is Dr. Chotzner s rendering of one of 
 ImmanuePs lyrics. He entitles it 
 
 PARADISE AND HELL 
 At times in my spirit I fitfully ponder, 
 
 Where shall I pass after death from this light; 
 Do Heaven s bright glories await me, I wonder, 
 Or Lucifer s kingdom of darkness and night? 
 235 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 In the one, though tis perhaps of ill reputation, 
 A crowd of gay damsels will sit by my side; 
 
 But in Heaven there s boredom and mental starvation, 
 To hoary old men and old crones I ll be tied. 
 
 And so I will shun the abodes of the holy, 
 And fly from the sky, which is dull, so I deem: 
 
 Let hell be my dwelling; there is no melancholy, 
 Where love reigns for ever and ever supreme. 
 
 Immanuel, it is only just to point out, occasion 
 ally draws a worthier character. In his third 
 Machbereth he tells of a lovely girl, who is intelli 
 gent, modest, chaste, coy, and difficult, although a 
 queen in beauty; she is simple in taste, yet exqui 
 site in poetical feeling and musical gifts. The 
 character is the nearest one gets in Hebrew to the 
 best heroines of the troubadours. Immanuel and 
 she exchange verses, but the path of flirtation runs 
 rough. They are parted, she, woman-like, dies, 
 and he, man-like, sings an elegy. Even more to 
 Immanuel s credit is his praise of his own wife. 
 She has every womanly grace of body and soul. 
 On her he showers compliments from the Song of 
 Songs and the Book of Proverbs. If this be the 
 true man revealed, then his light verses of love 
 addressed to other women must be, as I have 
 hinted, a mere pose. It may be that his wife read 
 
 236 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 his verses, and that his picture of her was calcu 
 lated to soothe her feelings when reading some 
 other parts of his work. If she did read them, 
 she found only one perfect figure of womanliness 
 in her husband s poems, and that figure herself. 
 But on the whole one is inclined to think that Im- 
 manuel s braggartism as to his many love affairs 
 is only another aspect of the Renaissance habit, 
 which is exemplified so completely in the similar 
 boasts of Benvenuto Cellini. 
 
 Be this as it may, it is not surprising to find that 
 in the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayyim, ch. 317, 
 1 6), the poems of Immanuel are put upon the 
 Sabbath Index. It is declared unlawful to read 
 them on Saturdays, and also on week-days, con 
 tinues the Code with gathering anger. Those who 
 copy them, still more those who print them, are 
 declared sinners that make others to sin. I must 
 confess that I am here on the side of the Code. 
 Immanuel s Machberoth are scarcely worthy of 
 the Hebrew genius. 
 
 There has been, it may be added, a long strug 
 gle against Hebrew love songs. Maimonides 
 says ("Guide," iii. 7): "The gift of speech 
 which God gave us to help us learn and teach and 
 perfect ourselves this gift of speech must not be 
 
 237 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 employed in doing what is degrading and disgrace 
 ful. We must not imitate the songs and tales of 
 ignorant and lascivious people. It may be suitable 
 to them, but it is not fit for those who are bidden, 
 Ye shall be a holy nation." In 1415 Solomon 
 Alami uses words on this subject that will lead 
 me to my last point. Alami says, " Avoid listen 
 ing to love songs which excite the passions. If 
 God has graciously bestowed on you the gift of a 
 sweet voice, use it in praising Him. Do not set 
 prayers to Arabic tunes, a practice which has been 
 promoted to suit the taste of effeminate men." 
 
 But if this be a crime, then the worst offender 
 was none other than the famous Israel Najara. In 
 the middle of the sixteenth century he added some 
 of its choicest lyrics to the Hebrew song-book. 
 The most popular of the table hymns (Zemiroth) 
 are his. He was a mystic, filled with a sense of the 
 nearness of God. But he did not see why the devil 
 should have all the pretty tunes. So he delib 
 erately wrote religious poems in metres to suit 
 Arabic, Turkish, Greek, Spanish, and Italian 
 melodies, his avowed purpose being to divert the 
 young Jews of his day from profane to sacred 
 song. But these young Jews must have been exi 
 gent, indeed, if they failed to find in Najara s sa- 
 
 238 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 cred verses enough of love and passion. Not only 
 was he, like Jehudah Halevi, a prolific writer of 
 Wedding Odes, but in his most spiritual hymns he 
 uses the language of love as no Hebrew poet be 
 fore or after him has done. Starting with the 
 assumption that the Song of Songs was an alle 
 gory of God s espousal with the bride Israel, Na- 
 jara did not hesitate to put the most passionate 
 words of love for Israel into God s mouth. He 
 was strongly attacked, but the saintly mystic Isaac 
 Luria retorted that Najara s hymns were listened 
 to with delight in Heaven and if ever a man had 
 the right to speak of Heaven it was Luria. And 
 Hebrew poetry has no need to be ashamed of the 
 passionate affection poured out by these mystic 
 poets on another beloved, the Queen Sabbath. 
 
 This is not the place to speak of the Hebrew 
 drama and of the form which the love interest 
 takes in it. Woman, at all events, is treated far 
 more handsomely in the dramas than in the satires. 
 The love scenes of the Hebrew dramatists are 
 pure to coldness. These dramas began to flourish 
 in the eighteenth century; Luzzatto was by no 
 means an unworthy imitator of Guarini. Some 
 times the syncretism of ideas in Hebrew plays is 
 sufficiently grotesque. Samuel Romanelli, who 
 
 239 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 wrote in Italy at the era of the French Revolution, 
 boldly introduces Greek mythology. It may be 
 that in the Spanish period Hebrew poets intro 
 duced the muses under the epithet " daughters of 
 Song." But with Romanelli, the classical ma 
 chinery is more clearly audible. The scene of his 
 drama is laid in Cyprus; Venus and Cupid figure 
 in the action. Romanelli gives a moral turn to his 
 mythology, by interposing Peace to stay the con 
 flict between Love and Fame. Ephraim Luzzatto, 
 at the same period, tried his hand, not unsuccess 
 fully, at Hebrew love sonnets. 
 
 Love songs continued to be written in Hebrew 
 in the nineteenth century, and often see the light in 
 the twentieth. But I do not propose to deal with 
 these. Recent new-Hebrew poetry has shown it 
 self strongest in satire and elegy. Its note is one 
 of anger or of pain. Shall we, however, say of 
 the Hebrew race that it has lost the power to sing 
 of love ? Has it grown too old, too decrepid ? 
 
 And said I that my limbs were old, 
 And said I that my blood was cold, 
 And that my kindly fire was fled, 
 And my poor wither d heart was dead, 
 And that I might not sing of love? 
 
 Heine is the answer. But Heine did not write 
 240 
 
HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 in Hebrew, and those who have so far written in 
 Hebrew are not Heines. It is, I think, vain to 
 look to Europe for a new outburst of Hebrew love 
 lyrics. In the East, and most of all in Palestine, 
 where Hebrew is coming to its own again, and 
 where the spring once more smiles on the eyes of 
 Jewish peasants and shepherds, there may arise 
 another inspired singer to give us a new Song of 
 Songs in the language of the Bible. But we have 
 no right to expect it. Such a rare thing of beauty 
 cannot be repeated. It is a joy forever, and a joy 
 once for all. 
 
 [Notes, pp. 308-310] 
 
 16 241 
 
A HANDFUL OF CURIOSITIES 
 I 
 
 GEORGE ELIOT AND SOLOMON MAIMON 
 
 That George Eliot was well acquainted with cer 
 tain aspects of Jewish history, is fairly clear from 
 her writings. But there is collateral evidence of 
 an interesting kind that proves the same fact quite 
 conclusively, I think. 
 
 It will be remembered that Daniel Deronda 
 went into a second-hand book-shop and bought a 
 small volume for half a crown, thereby making the 
 acquaintance of Ezra Cohen. Some time back I 
 had in my hands the identical book that George 
 Eliot purchased which formed the basis of the 
 incident. The book may now be seen in Dr. Wil- 
 liams s Library, Gordon Square, London. The few 
 words in which George Eliot dismisses the book in 
 her novel would hardly lead one to gather how 
 carefully and conscientiously she had read the 
 volume, which has since been translated into Eng 
 lish by Dr. J. Clark Murray. She, of course, 
 bought and read the original German. 
 
 242 
 
GEORGE ELIOT AND SOLOMON MAIMON 
 
 The book is Solomon Maimon s Autobiography, 
 a fascinating piece of self-revelation and of his 
 tory. (An admirable account of it may be found 
 in chapter x of the fifth volume of the English 
 translation of Graetz s " History of the Jews.") 
 Maimon, cynic and skeptic, was a man all head 
 and no heart, but he was not without " character," 
 in one sense of the word. He forms a necessary 
 link in the progress of modern Jews towards their 
 newer culture. Schiller and Goethe admired him 
 considerably, and, as we shall soon see, George 
 Eliot was a careful student of his celebrated pages. 
 Any reader who takes the book up, will hardly lay 
 it down until he has finished the first part, at least. 
 
 Several marginal and other notes in the copy of 
 the Autobiography that belonged to George Eliot 
 are, I am convinced, in her own handwriting, and 
 I propose to print here some of her jottings, all of 
 which are in pencil, but carefully written. Above 
 the Introduction, she writes : " This book might 
 mislead many readers not acquainted with other 
 parts of Jewish history. But for a worthy account 
 (in brief) of Judaism and Rabbinism, see p. 150." 
 This reference takes one to the fifteenth chapter of 
 the Autobiography. Indeed, George Eliot was 
 right as to the misleading tendency of a good deal 
 
 243 
 
GEORGE ELIOT AND SOLOMON MAIMON 
 
 in Maimon s " wonderful piece of autobiography," 
 as she terms the work in " Daniel Deronda." She 
 returns to the attack on p. 36 of her copy, where 
 she has jotted, " See infra, p. 150 et seq. for a bet 
 ter-informed view of Talmudic study." 
 
 How carefully George Eliot read ! The pagina 
 tion of 207 is printed wrongly as 160; she corrects 
 it! She corrects Kimesi into " Kimchi " on p. 48, 
 Rabasse into " R. Ashe " on p. 163. On p. 59 
 she writes, " According to the Talmud no one is 
 eternally damned." Perhaps her statement needs 
 some slight qualification. Again (p. 62), " Rashi, 
 i. e. Rabbi Shelomoh ben Isaak, whom Buxtorf 
 mistakenly called Jarchi." It was really to Ray- 
 mund Martini that this error goes back. But 
 George Eliot could not know it. On p. 140, Mai- 
 mon begins, " Accordingly, I sought to explain all 
 this in the following way," to which George Eliot 
 appends the note, " But this is simply what the 
 Cabbala teaches not his own ingenious explana 
 tion." 
 
 It is interesting to find George Eliot occasionally 
 defending Judaism against Maimon. On p. 165 
 he talks of the u abuse of Rabbinism," in that the 
 Rabbis tacked on new laws to old texts. u Its ori 
 gin," says George Eliot s pencilled jotting, " was 
 
 244 
 
GEORGE ELIOT AND SOLOMON MAIMON 
 
 the need for freedom to modify laws " a fine 
 remark. On p. 173, where Maimon again talks 
 of the Rabbinical method of evolving all sorts of 
 moral truths by the oddest exegesis, she writes, 
 " The method has been constantly pursued in va 
 rious forms by Christian Teachers." On p. 186 
 Maimon makes merry at the annulment of vows 
 previous to the Day of Atonement. George Eliot 
 writes,. " These are religious vows not engage 
 ments between man and man." 
 
 Furthermore, she makes some translations of 
 the titles of Hebrew books cited, and enters a cor 
 rection of an apparently erroneous statement of 
 fact on p. 215. There Maimon writes as though 
 the Zohar had been promulgated after Sabbatai 
 Zebi. George Eliot notes: " Sabbatai Zebi lived 
 long after the production of the Zohar. He was 
 a contemporary of Spinoza. Moses de Leon be 
 longed to the fourteenth century." This remark 
 shows that George Eliot knew Graetz s History, 
 for it is he who brought the names of Spinoza and 
 Sabbatai Zebi together in two chapter headings in 
 his work. Besides, Graetz s History was certainly 
 in George Eliot s library; it was among the Lewes 
 books now at Dr. Williams s. Again, on p. 265, 
 Maimon speaks of the Jewish fast that falls in 
 
 245 
 
GEORGE ELIOT AND SOLOMON MAIMON 
 
 August. George Eliot jots on the margin, " July? 
 Fast of Ninth Ab." 
 
 Throughout passages are pencilled, and at the 
 end she gives an index to the parts that seem to 
 have interested her particularly. This is her list: 
 
 Talmudic quotations, 36. 
 
 Polish Doctor, 49. 
 
 The Talmudist, 60. 
 
 Prince R. and the Barber, no. 
 
 Talmudic Method, 174. 
 
 Polish Jews chiefly Gelehrte, 211. 
 
 Zohar, 215. 
 
 Rabbinical Morality, 176. 
 
 New Chasidim, 207. 
 
 Elias aus Wilna, 242. 
 
 Angels ( ?), 82. 
 
 Tamuz, II., 135. 
 
 It is a pleasure, indeed, to find a fresh confirma 
 tion, that George Eliot s favorable impression of 
 Judaism was based on a very adequate acquain 
 tance with its history. Sir Walter Scott s knowl 
 edge of it was, one cannot but feel, far less inti 
 mate than George Eliot s, but his poetic insight 
 kept him marvellously straight in his appreciation 
 of Jewish life and character. 
 
 [Notes, pp. 310-311] 
 
 246 
 
II 
 
 How MILTON PRONOUNCED HEBREW 
 
 English politics in the seventeenth and eigh 
 teenth centuries maintained a closer association 
 with literature than is conceivable in the present 
 age. England has just witnessed a contest on 
 fundamental issues between the two Houses of 
 Parliament. This recalls, by contrast rather than 
 by similarity, another conflict that divided the 
 Lords from the Commons in and about the year 
 1645. The question at issue then was the respec 
 tive literary merits of two metrical translations 
 of the Psalms. 
 
 Francis Rous was a Provost of Eton, a member 
 of the Westminster Assembly of Divines, and rep 
 resentative of Truro in the Long Parliament. 
 This " old illiterate Jew," as Wood abusively 
 termed him, had made a verse translation of the 
 Psalms, which the House of Commons cordially 
 recommended. The House of Lords, on the other 
 hand, preferred Barton s translation, and many 
 other contemporaneous attempts were made to 
 
 247 
 
HOW MILTON PRONOUNCED HEBREW 
 
 meet the growing demand for a good metrical 
 rendering a demand which, by the way, has re 
 mained but imperfectly filled to the present time. 
 Would that some Jewish poet might arise to give 
 us the long-desired version for use, at all events, in 
 our private devotions! In April, 1648, Milton 
 tried his hand at a rendering of nine Psalms (Ixxx.- 
 Ixxxviii.), and it is from this work that we can see 
 how Milton pronounced Hebrew. Strange to say, 
 Milton s attempt, except in the case of the eighty- 
 fourth Psalm, has scanty poetical merit, and, as a 
 literal translation, it is not altogether successful. 
 He prides himself on the fact that his verses are 
 such that " all, but what is in a different character, 
 are the very words of the Text, translated from 
 the original." The inserted words in italics are, 
 nevertheless, almost as numerous as the roman 
 type that represents the original Hebrew. Such 
 conventional mistakes as Rous s cherubims are, 
 however, conspicuously absent from Milton s 
 more scholarly work. Milton writes cherubs. 
 
 Now, in the margin of Psalms Ixxx., Ixxxi., 
 Ixxxii., and Ixxxiii., Milton inserts a transliteration 
 of some of the words of the original Hebrew text. 
 The first point that strikes one is the extraordinary 
 accuracy of the transliteration. One word appears 
 
 248 
 
HOW MILTON PRONOUNCED HEBREW 
 
 as Jimmotu, thus showing that Milton appreciated 
 the force of the dagesh. Again, Shiphtu-dal } bag- 
 nadath-el show that Milton observed the presence 
 of the Makkef. Actual mistakes are very rare, 
 and, as Dr. Davidson has suggested, they may be 
 due to misprints. This certainly accounts for 
 Tishphetu instead of Tishpetu (Ixxxii. 2), but 
 when we find Be Sether appearing as two words 
 instead of one, the capital S is rather against this 
 explanation, while Shifta (in the last verse of 
 Psalm Ixxxii.) looks like a misreading. 
 
 It is curious to see that Milton adopted the nasal 
 intonation of the Ayln. And he adopted it in the 
 least defensible form. He invariably writes gn 
 for the Hebrew Ayin. Now ng is bad enough, but 
 gn seems a worse barbarism. Milton read the 
 vowels, as might have been expected from one liv 
 ing after Reuchlin, who introduced the Italian pro 
 nunciation to Christian students in Europe, in the 
 " Portuguese " manner, even to the point of mak 
 ing little, if any, distinction between the Zere and 
 the Sheva. As to the consonants, he read Tav as 
 th y Teth as t, Qof as k, and Fav and Beth equally 
 as v. In this latter point he followed the u Ger 
 man " usage. The letter Cheth Milton read as 
 ch, but Kaf he read as c t sounded hard proba- 
 
 249 
 
HOW MILTON PRONOUNCED HEBREW 
 
 bly, as so many English readers of Hebrew do at 
 the present day. I have even noted among Jewish 
 boys an amusing affectation of inability to pro 
 nounce the Kaf in any other way. The some 
 what inaccurate but unavoidable ts for Zadde was 
 already established in Milton s time, while the 
 letter Yod appears regularly as ; , which Milton 
 must have sounded as y. On the whole, it is quite 
 clear that Milton read his Hebrew with minute 
 precision. To see how just this verdict is, let any 
 one compare Milton s exactness with the erratic 
 and slovenly transliterations in Edmund Chid- 
 mead s English edition of Leon Modena s Rlti 
 Ebraici, which was published only two years later 
 than Milton s paraphrase of the Psalms. 
 
 The result, then, of an examination of the 
 twenty-six words thus transliterated, is to deepen 
 the conviction that the great Puritan poet, who de 
 rived so much inspiration from the Old Testament, 
 drew at least some of it from the pure well of 
 Hebrew undefiled. 
 
 [Notes, p. 311] 
 
 250 
 
Ill 
 
 THE CAMBRIDGE PLATONISTS 
 
 As a "Concluding Part" to u The Myths of 
 Plato," Professor J. A. Stewart wrote a chapter 
 on the Cambridge Platonists of the seventeenth 
 century, his object being to show that the thought 
 of Plato " has been, and still is, an important in 
 fluence in modern philosophy." 
 
 It was a not unnatural reaction that diverted 
 the scholars of the Renaissance from Aristotle to 
 Plato. The medieval Church had been Aristote 
 lian, and " antagonism to the Roman Church had, 
 doubtless, much to do with the Platonic revival, 
 which spread from Italy to Cambridge." But, 
 curiously enough, the Plato whom Cambridge 
 served was not Plato the Athenian dialectician, but 
 Plato the poet and allegorist. It was, in fact, 
 Philo, the Jew, rather than Plato, the Greek, that 
 inspired them. 
 
 " Philo never thought of doubting that Plato- 
 nism and the Jewish Scriptures had real affinity to 
 each other, and hardly perhaps asked himself how 
 
 251 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE PLATONISTS 
 
 the affinity was to be accounted for." Philo, how 
 ever, would have had no difficulty in accounting 
 for it; already in his day the quaint theory was 
 prevalent that Athens had borrowed its wisdom 
 from Jerusalem. The Cambridge Platonists went 
 with Philo in declaring Plato to be " the Attic 
 Moses." Henry More (1662) maintained 
 strongly Plato s indebtedness to Moses; even 
 Pythagoras was so indebted, or, rather, " it was a 
 common fame [report] that Pythagoras was a 
 disciple of the Prophet Ezekiel." The Cambridge 
 Platonists were anxious, not only to show this de 
 pendence of Greek upon Hebraic thought, but they 
 went on to argue that Moses taught, in allegory, 
 the natural philosophy of Descartes. More calls 
 Platonism the soul, and Cartesianism the body, of 
 his own philosophy, which he applies to the expla 
 nation of the Law of Moses. " This philosophy 
 is the old Jewish-Pythagorean Cabbala, which 
 teaches the motion of the Earth and Pre-existence 
 of the Soul." But it is awkward that Moses does 
 not teach the motion of the earth. More is at no 
 loss; he boldly argues that, though "the motion 
 of the earth has been lost and appears not in the 
 remains of the Jewish Cabbala, this can be no 
 argument against its once having been a part 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE PLATONISTS 
 
 thereof." He holds it as u exceedingly probable " 
 that the Roman Emperor " Numa was both de 
 scended from the Jews and imbued with the Jew 
 ish religion and learning. * 
 
 Thus the Cambridge Platonists of the seven 
 teenth century are a very remarkable example of 
 the recurrent influence exercised on non-Jews by 
 certain forms of Judaism that had but slight direct 
 effect on the Jews themselves. Indirectly, the 
 Hellenic side of Jewish culture left its mark, es 
 pecially in the Cabbala. It would be well worth 
 the while of a Jewish theologian to make a close 
 study of the seventeenth century alumni of Cam 
 bridge, who were among the most fascinating de 
 votees of ancient Jewish wisdom. Henry More 
 was particularly attractive, " the most interesting 
 and the most unreadable of the whole band." 
 When he was a young boy, his uncle had to 
 threaten a flogging to cure him of precocious u for 
 wardness in philosophizing concerning the mys 
 teries of necessity and freewill." In 1631 he en 
 tered Christ s College, Cambridge, " about the 
 time when John Milton was leaving it," and he 
 may almost be said to have spent the rest of his 
 life within the walls of the college, u except when 
 he went to stay with his * heroine pupil, Anne, 
 
 253 
 
THE CAMBRIDGE PLATONISTS 
 
 Viscountess Conway, at her country seat of Rag- 
 ley in Warwickshire, where his pleasure was to 
 wander among the woods and glades." He abso 
 lutely refused all preferment, and when " he was 
 once persuaded to make a journey to Whitehall, to 
 kiss His Majesty s hands, but heard by the way 
 that this would be the prelude to a bishopric, he at 
 once turned back." Yet More was no recluse. 
 " He had many pupils at Christ s; he loved music, 
 and used to play on the theorbo; he enjoyed a 
 game at bowls, and still more a conversation with 
 intimate friends, who listened to him as to an 
 oracle; and he was so kind to the poor that it was 
 said his very chamber-door was a hospital for the 
 needy." But enough has been quoted from Over- 
 ton s biography to whet curiosity about this Cam 
 bridge sage and saint. More well illustrates what 
 was said above (pp. 114-1 16) the man of letters 
 is truest to his calling when he has at the same 
 time an open ear to the call of humanity. 
 [Notes, p. 312] 
 
 254 
 
IV 
 
 THE ANGLO-JEWISH YIDDISH LITERARY SOCIETY 
 
 The founder and moving spirit of this unique 
 little Society is Miss Helena Frank, whose sym 
 pathy with Yiddish literature has been shown in 
 several ways. Her article in the Nineteenth Cen 
 tury (" The Land of Jargon," October, 1904) 
 was as forcible as it was dainty. Her rendering of 
 the stories of Perez, too, is more than a literary 
 feat. Her knowledge of Yiddish is not merely 
 intellectual; though not herself a Jewess, she evi 
 dently enters into the heart of the people who ex 
 press their lives and aspirations in Yiddish terms. 
 Young as she is, Miss Frank is, indeed, a remark 
 able linguist; Hebrew and Russian are among her 
 accomplishments. But it is a wonderful fact that 
 she has set herself to acquire these other languages 
 only to help her to understand Yiddish, which 
 latter she knows through and through. 
 
 Miss Frank not long ago founded a Society 
 called by the title that heads this note. The So 
 ciety did not interest itself directly in the preserva- 
 
 255 
 
THE ANGLO-JEWISH YIDDISH LITERARY SOCIETY 
 
 tion of Yiddish as a spoken language. It was 
 rather the somewhat grotesque fear that the role 
 of Yiddish as a living language may cease that ap 
 pealed to Miss Frank. The idea was to collect a 
 Yiddish library, encourage the translation of Yid 
 dish books into English, and provide a sufficient 
 supply of Yiddish books and papers for the pa 
 tients in the London and other Hospitals who are 
 unable to read any other language. The weekly 
 Yiddish* Gaze t ten (New York) was sent regu 
 larly to the London Hospital, where it has been 
 very welcome. 
 
 In the Society s first report, which I was per 
 mitted to see, Miss Frank explained why an 
 American Yiddish paper was the first choice. In 
 the first place, it was a good paper, with an estab 
 lished reputation, and at once conservative and 
 free from prejudice. America is, moreover, " in 
 tensely interesting to the Polish Yid. For him it 
 is the free country par excellence. Besides, he is 
 sure to have a son, uncle, or brother there or to 
 be going there himself. * Vin shterben in vin 
 Amerika kan sich keener nisht araus drehn ! 
 (* From dying and from going to America, there 
 is no escape! )" Miss Frank has a keen sense of 
 humor. How could she love Yiddish were it not 
 
 256 
 
THE ANGLO-JEWISH YIDDISH LITERARY SOCIETY 
 
 so? She cites some of the Yiddishe Gazetten s 
 answers to correspondents. This is funny: u The 
 woman has the right to take her clothes and orna 
 ments away with her when she leaves her husband. 
 But it is a question if she ought to leave him." 
 Then we have the following from an article by 
 Dr. Goidorof. He compares the Yiddish lan 
 guage to persons whose passports are not in 
 order the one has no grammar, the others have 
 no land. 
 
 And both the Jewish language and the Jewish nation hide 
 their faulty passports in their wallets, and disappear from the 
 register of nations and languages no land, no grammar! 
 
 "A pretty conclusion the savants have come to!" (began the 
 Jewish nation). "You are nothing but a collection of words, 
 and I am nothing but a collection of people, and there s an end 
 to both of us ! " 
 
 " And Jargon, besides, they said to which of us did they 
 refer? To me or to you?" (asks the Jewish language, the word 
 jargon being unknown to it). 
 
 "To you! " (answers the Jewish nation). 
 
 " No, to you! " (protests the Jewish language). 
 
 "Well, then, to both of us! " (allows the Jewish nation). "It 
 seems we are both a kind of Jargon. Mercy on us, what shall 
 we do without a grammar and without a land ? " 
 
 "Unless the Zionists purchase a grammar of the Sultan!" 
 (romances the Jewish language). 
 
 "Or at all events a land! " (sighs the Jewish nation). 
 17 257 
 
THE ANGLO-JEWISH YIDDISH LITERARY SOCIETY 
 
 "You think that the easier of the two?" (asks the Jewish 
 language, wittily). 
 
 And at the same moment they look at one another and laugh 
 loudly and merrily. 
 
 This is genuine Heinesque humor. 
 [Notes, p. 312] 
 
 258 
 
V 
 
 THE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA 
 A book by Professor J. C. Oman, published not 
 long ago, contains a clear and judicially sympa 
 thetic account of Hinduism. The sordid side of 
 Indian asceticism receives due attention; the ex 
 cesses of self-mortification, painful posturings, and 
 equally painful impostures are by no means 
 slurred over by the writer. And yet the essential 
 origin of these ascetic practices is perceived by 
 Professor Oman to be a pure philosophy and a not 
 ignoble idealism. And if Professor Oman s anal 
 ysis be true, one understands how it is that, though 
 there have always been Jewish ascetics, at times 
 of considerable numbers and devotion, yet asceti 
 cism, as such, has no recognized place in Judaism. 
 Jewish moralists, especially, though not exclu 
 sively, those of the mystical or Cabbalistic schools, 
 pronounce powerfully enough against over-indul 
 gence in all sensuous pleasures; they inculcate mod 
 eration and abstinence, and, in some cases, where 
 the pressure of desire is very strong, prescribe 
 
 259 
 
THE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA 
 
 painful austerities, which may be paralleled by 
 what Professor Oman tells us of the Sadhus and 
 Yogis of India. But let us first listen to Professor 
 Oman s analysis (p. 16) : 
 
 " Without any pretence of an exhaustive analysis of the vari 
 ous and complex motives which underlie religious asceticism, I 
 may, before concluding this chapter, draw attention to what 
 seem to me the more general reasons which prompt men to 
 ascetic practices: (i) A desire, which is intensified by all per 
 sonal or national troubles, to propitiate the Unseen Powers. 
 (2) A longing on the part of the intensely religious to follow in 
 the footsteps of their Master, almost invariably an ascetic. (3) 
 A wish to work out one s own future salvation, or emancipation, 
 by conquering the evil inherent in human nature, i. e. the flesh. 
 
 (4) A yearning to prepare oneself by purification of mind and 
 body for entering into present communion with the Divine Being. 
 
 (5) Despair arising from disillusionment and from defeat in the 
 battle of life. And lastly, mere vanity, stimulated by the admira 
 tion which the multitude bestow on the ascetic." 
 
 With regard to his second reason, we find noth 
 ing of the kind in Judaism subsequent to the Es- 
 senes, until we reach the Cabbalistic heroes of the 
 Middle Ages. The third and the fourth have, on 
 the other hand, had power generally in Jewish 
 conduct. The fifth has had its influence, but only 
 temporarily and temperately. Ascetic practices, 
 based on national and religious calamity, have, for 
 
THE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA 
 
 the most part, been prescribed only for certain 
 dates in the calendar, but it must be confessed that 
 an excessive addiction to fasting prevails among 
 many Jews. But it is when we consider the first 
 of Professor Oman s reasons for ascetic practices 
 that we perceive how entirely the genius of Juda 
 ism is foreign to Hindu and most other forms of 
 asceticism. To reach communion with God, the 
 Jew goes along the road of happiness, not of aus 
 terity. He serves with joy, not with sadness. On 
 this subject the reader may refer with great profit 
 to the remarks made by the Reverend Morris 
 Joseph, in " Judaism as Creed and Life," p. 247, 
 onwards, and again the whole of chapter iv. of 
 book iii. (p. 364). Self-development, not self- 
 mortification, is the true principle; man s lower 
 nature is not to be crushed by torture, but to be 
 elevated by moderation, so as to bear its part with 
 man s higher nature in the service of God. 
 
 What leads some Jewish moralists to eulogize 
 asceticism is that there is always a danger of the 
 happiness theory leading to a materialistic view of 
 life. This is what Mr. Joseph says, and says well, 
 on the subject (p. 371) : 
 
 "And, therefore, though Judaism does not approve of the 
 ascetic temper, it is far from encouraging the materialist s view 
 
 261 
 
THE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA 
 
 of life. It has no place for monks or hermits, who think they 
 can serve God best by renouncing the world ; but, on the other 
 hand, it sternly rebukes the worldliness that knows no ideal but 
 sordid pleasures, no God but Self. It commends to us the golden 
 mean the safe line of conduct that lies midway between the 
 rejection of earthly joys and the worship of them. If asceticism 
 too often spurns the commonplace duties of life, excessive self- 
 indulgence unfits us for them. In each case we lose some of 
 our moral efficiency. But in the latter case there is added an 
 inevitable degradation. The man who mortifies his body for 
 his soul s sake has at least his motive to plead for him. But 
 the sensualist has no such justification. He deliberately chooses 
 the evil and rejects the good. Forfeiting his character as a son 
 of God, he yields himself a slave to unworthy passions. 
 
 " It is the same with the worldly man, who lives only for 
 sordid ends, such as wealth and the pleasures it buys. He, too, 
 utterly misses his vocation. His pursuit of riches may be moral 
 in itself; he may be a perfectly honest man. But his life is un 
 moral all the same, for it aims at nothing higher than itself." 
 
 Thus Professor Oman s fascinating book gives 
 occasion for thought to many whose religion is 
 far removed from Hinduism. But there is in 
 particular one feature of Hindu asceticism that 
 calls for attention. This is the Hindu doctrine of 
 Karma, or good works, which will be familiar to 
 readers of Rudyard Kipling s " Kim." Upon a 
 man s actions (Karma is the Sanskrit for action) 
 in this life depends the condition in which his soul 
 will be reincarnated. 
 
 262 
 
THE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA 
 
 " In a word, the present state is the result of past actions, and 
 the future depends upon the present. Now, the ultimate hope of 
 the Hindu should be so to live that his soul may be eventually 
 freed from the necessity of being reincarnated, and may, in the 
 end, be reunited to the Infinite Spirit from which it sprang. 
 As, however, that goal is very remote, the Hindu not uncom 
 monly limits his desire and his efforts to the attainment of a 
 good time now, and in his next appearance upon this earthly 
 stage" (p. 108). 
 
 We need not go fully into this doctrine, which, as 
 the writer says elsewhere (p. 172), "certainly 
 makes for morality," but we may rather attend to 
 that aspect of it which is shown in the Hindu de 
 sire to accumulate " merits." The performance 
 of penances gives the self-torturer certain spiritual 
 powers. Professor Oman quotes this passage from 
 Sir Monier Williams s " Indian Epic Poetry " 
 (note to p. 4) : 
 
 " According to Hindu theory, the performance of penances was 
 like making deposits in the bank of Heaven. By degrees an enor 
 mous credit was accumulated, which enabled the depositor to 
 draw on the amount of his savings, without fear of his drafts 
 being refused payment. The power gained in this way by weak 
 mortals was so enormous that gods, as well as men, were equally 
 at the mercy of these all but omnipotent ascetics, and it is re 
 markable that even the gods are described as engaging in pen 
 ances and austerities, in order, it may be presumed, not to be 
 undone by human beings." 
 
 263 
 
THE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA 
 
 Now, if for penance we substitute Mitzvoth, 
 we find in this passage almost the caricature of the 
 Jewish theory that meets us in the writings of Ger 
 man theologians. These ill-equipped critics of 
 Judaism put it forward seriously that the Jew per 
 forms Mitzvoth in order to accumulate merit 
 (Zechuth) , and some of them even go so far as to 
 assert that the Jew thinks of his Zechuth as irre 
 sistible. But when the matter is put frankly and 
 squarely, as Professor Monier Williams puts it, 
 not even the Germans could have the effrontery to 
 assert that Judaism teaches or tolerates any such 
 doctrine. Whatever man does, he has no merit 
 towards God: that is Jewish teaching. Yet con 
 duct counts, and somehow the good man and the 
 bad man are not in the same case. Judaism may 
 be inconsistent, but it is certainly not base in its 
 teaching as to conduct and retribution. " Be not 
 as servants who minister in the hope of receiving 
 reward " this is not the highest level of Jewish 
 doctrine, it is the average level. Lately I have 
 been reading a good deal of mystical Jewish litera 
 ture, and I have been struck by the repeated use 
 made of the famous Rabbinical saying of Antigo- 
 nos of Socho just cited. One wonders whether, 
 after all, justice is done to the Hindus. One sees 
 
 264 
 
THE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA 
 
 how easily Jewish teaching can be distorted into a 
 doctrine of calculated Zechuth. Are the Hindus 
 being misjudged equally? Certainly, in some cases 
 this must be so, for Professor Oman, with his re 
 markably sympathetic insight, records experiences 
 such as this more than once (p. 147). He is de 
 scribing one of the Jain ascetics, and remarks : 
 
 " His personal appearance gave the impression of great suffer 
 ing, and his attendants all had the same appearance, contrasting 
 very much indeed with the ordinary Sadhus of other sects. And 
 wherefore this austere rejection of the world s goods, wherefore 
 all this self-inflicted misery? Is it to attain a glorious Heaven 
 hereafter, a blessed existence after death? No! It is, as the old 
 monk explained to me, only to escape rebirth for the Jain 
 believes in the transmigration of souls and to attain rest." 
 
 Other ascetics gave similar explanations. Thus 
 (p. 100) : 
 
 "The Christian missionary entered into conversation with the 
 Hermit (a Bairagi from the Upper Provinces), and learned from 
 him that he had adopted a life of abstraction and isolation from 
 the world, neither to expiate any sin, nor to secure any reward. 
 He averred that he had no desires and no hopes, but that, being 
 removed from the agitations of the worldly life, he was full of 
 tranquil joy." 
 
 [Notes, pp. 312-313] 
 
 265 
 
VI 
 
 LOST PURIM JOYS 
 
 It is scarcely accurate to assert, as is sometimes 
 done, that the most characteristic of the Purim 
 pranks of the past were children of the Ghetto, 
 and came to a natural end when the Ghetto walls 
 fell. In point of fact, most of these joys origi 
 nated before the era of the Ghetto, and others were 
 introduced for the first time when Ghetto life was 
 about to fade away into history. 
 
 Probably the oldest of Purim pranks was the 
 bonfire and the burning of an effigy. Now, so far 
 from being a Ghetto custom, it did not even ema 
 nate from Europe, the continent of Ghettos; it 
 belongs to Babylonia and Persia. This is what 
 was done, according to an old Geonic account re 
 covered by Professor L. Ginzberg: 
 
 " It is customary in Babylonia and Elam for boys to make an 
 effigy resembling Haman; this they suspend on their roofs, four 
 or five days before Purim. On Purim day they erect a bonfire, 
 and cast the effigy into its midst, while the boys stand round about 
 it, jesting and singing. And they have a ring suspended in the 
 
 266 
 
LOST PURIM JOYS 
 
 midst of the fire, which (ring) they hold and wave from one 
 side of the fire to the other." 
 
 Bonfires, it may be thought, need no recondite 
 explanation; light goes with a light heart, and 
 boys always love a blaze. Dr. J. G. Frazer, in his 
 " Golden Bough," has endeavored, nevertheless, 
 to bring the Purim bonfire into relation with 
 primitive spring-tide and midsummer conflagra 
 tions, which survived into modern carnivals, but 
 did not originate with them. Such bonfires be 
 longed to what has been called sympathetic or 
 homeopathic magic; by raising an artificial heat, 
 you ensured a plentiful dose of the natural heat of 
 the sun. So, too, the burning of an effigy w r as not, 
 in the first instance, a malicious or unfriendly act. 
 A tree-spirit, or a figure representing the spirit of 
 vegetation, was consumed in fire, but the spirit was 
 regarded as beneficent, not hostile, and by burning 
 a friendly deity the succor of the sun was gained. 
 Dr. Frazer cites some evidence for the early preva 
 lence of the Purim bonfire; he argues strongly and 
 persuasively in favor of the identification of Purim 
 with the Babylonian feast of the Sacaea, a wild, 
 extravagant bacchanalian revel, which, in the old 
 Asiatic world, much resembled the Saturnalia of a 
 later Italy. The theory is plausible, though it is not 
 
 267 
 
LOST PURIM JOYS 
 
 quite proven by Dr. Frazer, but it seems to me that 
 whatever be the case with Purim generally, there 
 is one hitherto overlooked feature of the Purim 
 bonfire that does clearly connect it with the other 
 primitive conflagrations of which mention was 
 made above. 
 
 This overlooked feature is the u ring." No ex 
 planation is given by the Gaon as to its purpose in 
 the tenth century, and it can hardly have been used 
 to hold the effigy. Now, in many of the primitive 
 bonfires, the fire was produced by aid of a revolv 
 ing wheel. This wheel typifies the sun. Waving 
 the " ring " in the Purim bonfires has obviously 
 the same significance, and this apparently inexpli 
 cable feature does, I think, serve to link the ancient 
 Purim prank with a long series of old-world cus 
 toms, which, it need hardly be said, have nothing 
 whatever to do with the Ghetto. 
 
 Then, again, the most famous of Purim paro 
 dies preceded the Ghetto period. The official 
 Ghetto begins with the opening of the sixteenth 
 century, whereas the best parodies belong to a 
 much earlier date, the fourteenth century. Such 
 parodies, in which sacred things are the subject of 
 harmless jest, are purely medieval in spirit, as well 
 as in date. Exaggerated praises of wine were a 
 
 268 
 
LOST PURIM JOYS 
 
 foil to the sobriety of the Jew, the fun consisting 
 in this conscious exaggeration. The medieval 
 Jew, be it remembered, drew no severe line be 
 tween sacred and profane. All life was to him 
 equally holy, equally secular. So it is not strange 
 that we find included in sacred Hebrew hymnolo- 
 gies wine-songs for Purim and Chanukah and other 
 Synagogue feasts, and these songs are at least as 
 old as the early part of the twelfth century. For 
 Purim, many Synagogue liturgies contain serious 
 additions for each of the eighteen benedictions of 
 the Amidah prayer, and equally serious para 
 phrases of Esther, some of them in Aramaic, 
 abound among the Genizah fragments in Cam 
 bridge. Besides these, however, are many harm^ 
 lessly humorous jingles and rhymes which were 
 sung in the synagogue, admittedly for the amuse 
 ment of the children, and for the child-hearts of 
 adult growth. For them, too, the Midrash had 
 played round Haman, reviling him, poking fun at 
 him, covering him with ridicule rather than exe 
 cration. It is true that the earliest ritual refer 
 ence to the wearing of masks on Purim dates from 
 the year 1508, just within the Ghetto period. 
 But this omission of earlier reference is surely an 
 accident. In the Babylonian Sacaea, cited above, 
 
 269 
 
LOST PURIM JOYS 
 
 a feature of the revel was that men and women 
 disguised themselves, a slave dressed up as king, 
 while servants personated masters, and vice versa. 
 All these elements of carnival exhilaration are 
 much earlier than the Middle Ages. Ghetto days, 
 however, originated, perhaps, the stamping of 
 feet, clapping of hands, clashing of mallets, and 
 smashing of earthenware pots, to punctuate cer 
 tain passages of the Esther story and of the subse 
 quent benediction. 
 
 My strongest point concerns what, beyond all 
 other delights, has been regarded as the charac 
 teristic amusement of the festival, viz. the Purim 
 play. We not only possess absolutely no evidence 
 that Purim plays were performed in the Ghettos 
 till the beginning of the eighteenth century, when 
 the end of the Ghettos was almost within sight, 
 but the extant references imply that they were then 
 a novelty. Plays on the subject of Esther were 
 very common in medieval Europe during earlier 
 centuries, but these plays were written by Chris 
 tians, not by Jews, and were performed by monks, 
 not by Rabbis. Strange as it may seem, it is none 
 the less the fact that the Purim play belongs to 
 the most recent of the Purim amusements, and 
 that its life has been short and, on the whole, in 
 glorious. 
 
 270 
 
LOST PURIM JOYS 
 
 Thus, without pressing the contention too 
 closely, Purim festivities do not deserve to be 
 tarred with the Ghetto brush. Is it, then, denied 
 that Purim was more mirthfully observed in 
 Ghetto days than it is at the present day? By no 
 means. It is unquestionable that Purim used to 
 be a merrier anniversary than it is now. The ex 
 planation is simple. In part, the change has arisen 
 through a laudable disinclination from pranks that 
 may be misconstrued as tokens of vindictiveness 
 against an ancient foe or his modern reincarna 
 tions. As a second cause may be assigned the 
 growing and regrettable propensity of Jews to 
 draw a rigid line of separation between life and ( 
 religion, and wherever this occurs, religious feasts 
 tend towards a solemnity that cannot, and dare 
 not, relax into amusement. This tendency is eat 
 ing at the very heart of Jewish life, and ought to 
 be resisted by all who truly understand the genius 
 of Judaism. 
 
 But the psychology of the change goes even 
 deeper. The Jew is emotional, but he detests 
 making a display of his feelings to mere onlookers. 
 The Wailing Wall scenes at Jerusalem are not a 
 real exception the facts are " Cooked," to meet 
 the demands of clamant tourists. The Jew s sensi- 
 
 271 
 
LOST PURIM JOYS 
 
 tiveness is the correlative of his emotionalism. 
 While all present are joining in the game, each 
 Jew will play with full abandonment to the humor 
 of the moment. But as soon as some play the 
 part of spectators, the Jew feels his limbs grow 
 ing too stiff for dancing, his voice too hushed 
 for song. All must participate, or all must leave 
 off. Thus, a crowd of Italians or Southern French 
 may play at carnival to-day to amuse sight-seers in 
 the Riviera, but Jews have never consented, have 
 never been able, to sport that others might stand 
 by and laugh at, and not with, the sportsmen. In 
 short, Purim has lost its character, because Jews 
 have lost their character, their disposition for in 
 nocent, unanimous joyousness. We are no longer 
 so closely united in interests or in local abodes that 
 we could, on the one hand, enjoy ourselves as one 
 man, and, on the other, play merry pranks, with 
 out incurring the criticism of indifferent, cold- 
 eyed observers. Criticism has attacked the au 
 thenticity of the Esther story, and proposed Marduk 
 for Mordecai, and Istar for Esther. But criticism 
 of another kind has worked far more havoc, for its 
 " superior " airs have killed the Purim joy. Per 
 haps it is not quite dead after all. 
 
 [Notes, pp. 313-314] 
 
 272 
 
VII 
 
 JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 The jubilee of the introduction of the Penny 
 Post into England was not reached till 1890. It 
 is difficult to realize the state of affairs before this 
 reform became part of our everyday life. That 
 less than three-quarters of a century ago the scat 
 tered members of English families were, in a mul 
 titude of cases, practically dead to one another, 
 may incline one to exaggerate the insignificance of 
 the means of communication in times yet more 
 remote. Certainly, in ancient Judea there were 
 fewer needs than in the modern world. Necessity 
 produces invention, and as the Jew of remote times 
 rarely felt a strong necessity to correspond with 
 his brethren in his own or other countries, it natu 
 rally followed that the means of communication 
 were equally extempore in character. It may be 
 of interest to put together some desultory jottings 
 on this important topic. 
 
 The way to Judea lies through Rome. If we 
 wish information whether the Jews knew any- 
 18 273 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 thing of a regular post, we must first inquire 
 whether the Romans possessed that institution. 
 According to Gibbon, this was the case. Excellent 
 roads made their appearance wherever the Ro 
 mans settled; and " the advantage of receiving the 
 earliest intelligence and of conveying their orders 
 with celerity, induced the Emperors to establish 
 throughout their extensive dominions the regular 
 institution of posts. Houses were everywhere 
 erected at the distance only of five or six miles; 
 each of them was constantly provided with forty 
 horses, and by the help of these relays it was easy 
 to travel a hundred miles a day along the Roman 
 roads. The use of the posts was allowed to those 
 who claimed it by an Imperial mandate; but, 
 though originally intended for the public service, 
 it was sometimes indulged to the business or con- 
 veniency of private citizens." This statement of 
 Gibbon (towards the end of chapter ii) applies 
 chiefly, then, to official despatches; for we know 
 from other sources that the Romans had no public 
 post as we understand the term, but used special 
 messengers (tabellarius) to convey private letters. 
 Exactly the same facts meet us with reference 
 to the Jews in the earlier Talmudic times. There 
 were special Jewish letter-carriers, who carried the 
 
 274 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 documents in a pocket made for the purpose, and 
 in several towns in Palestine there was a kind of 
 regular postal arrangement, though many places 
 were devoid of the institution. It is impossible to 
 suppose that these postal conveniences refer only 
 to official documents; for the Mishnah (Sabbath, 
 x, 4) is evidently speaking of Jewish postmen, 
 who, at that time, would hardly have been em 
 ployed to carry the despatches of the government. 
 The Jewish name for this post was Be-Davvar, 
 and apparently was a permanent and regular insti 
 tution. From a remark of Rabbi Jehudah (Rosh 
 ha-Shanah, 9b), " like a postman who goes about 
 everywhere and carries merchandise to the whole 
 province," it would seem that the Jews had estab 
 lished a parcels-post; but unfortunately we have 
 no precise information as to how these posts were 
 managed. 
 
 Gibbon s account of the Roman post recalls an 
 other Jewish institution, which may have been 
 somehow connected with the Be-Davvar. The offi 
 cial custodian of the goat that was sent into the 
 wilderness on the Day of Atonement was allowed, 
 if he should feel the necessity a necessity which, 
 according to tradition, never arose to partake of 
 food even on the fast-day. For this purpose huts 
 
 275 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 were erected along the route, and men provided 
 with food were stationed at each of these huts to 
 meet the messenger and conduct him some dis 
 tance on his way. 
 
 That the postal system cannot have been very 
 much developed, is clear from the means adopted 
 to announce the New Moon in various localities. 
 This official announcement certainly necessitated a 
 complete system of communication. At first, we 
 are told (Rosh ha-Shanah, ii, 2), fires were lighted 
 on the tops of the mountains; but the Samaritans 
 seem to have ignited the beacons at the wrong 
 time, so as to deceive the Jews. It was, therefore, 
 decided to communicate the news by messenger. 
 The mountain-fires were prepared as follows: 
 Long staves of cedar-wood, canes, and branches 
 of the olive-tree were tied up with coarse threads 
 or flax; these were lighted as torches, and men 
 on the hills waved the brands to and fro, up 
 ward and downward, until the signal was repeated 
 on the next hill, and so forth. When messen 
 gers were substituted for these fire signals, it does 
 not appear that they carried letters; they brought 
 verbal messages, which they seem to have shouted 
 out without necessarily dismounting from the 
 Animals they rode, Messages were not sent every 
 
 870 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 month, but only six times a year; and a curious 
 light is thrown on the means of communica 
 tion of the time, by the legal decision that anyone 
 was to be believed on the subject, and that the 
 word of a passing merchant who said that " he 
 had heard the New Moon proclaimed," was to be 
 accepted unhesitatingly. Nowadays, busy men are 
 sometimes put out by postal vagaries, but they 
 hardly suffer to the extent of having to fast two 
 days. This calamity is recorded, however, in the 
 Jerusalem Talmud, as having, on a certain occa 
 sion, resulted from the delay in the arrival of the 
 messengers announcing the New Moon. 
 
 Besides the proclamation of the New Moon, 
 other official documents must have been despatched 
 regularly. " Bills of divorce," for instance, 
 needed special messengers; the whole question of 
 the legal position of messengers is very intimately 
 bound up with that of conveying divorces. This, 
 however, seems to have been the function of pri 
 vate messengers, who were not in the strict sense 
 letter-carriers at all. It may be well, in passing, 
 to recall one or two other means of communica 
 tion mentioned in the Midrash. Thus we read 
 how Joshua, with twelve thousand of his warriors, 
 was imprisoned, by means of witchcraft, within a 
 
 277 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 sevenfold barrier of iron. He resolves to write 
 for aid to the chief of the tribe of Reuben, bidding 
 him to summon Phineas, who is to bring the 
 " trumpets " with him. Joshua ties the message 
 to the wings of a dove, or pigeon, and the bird 
 carries the letter to the Israelites, who speedily 
 arrive with Phineas and the trumpets, and, after 
 routing the enemy, effect Joshua s rescue. A simi 
 lar idea may be found in the commentary of Kim- 
 chi on Genesis. Noah, wishing for information, 
 says Kimchi, sent forth a raven, but it brought 
 back no message ; then he sent a dove, which has a 
 natural capacity for bringing back replies, when 
 it has been on the same way once or twice. Thus 
 kings train these birds for the purpose of sending 
 them great distances, with letters tied to their 
 wings. So we read (Sabbath, 49) in the Talmud 
 that " a dove s wings protect it," i. e. people pre 
 serve it, and do not slay it, because they train it to 
 act as their messenger. Or, again, we find arrows 
 used as a means of carrying letters, and we are not 
 alluding to such signals as Jonathan gave to David. 
 During the siege of Jerusalem by the Romans, the 
 Emperor had men placed near the walls of Jerusa 
 lem, and they wrote the information they obtained 
 on arrows, and fired them from the wall, with the 
 
 278 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 connivance, probably, of the philo-Roman party 
 that existed within the doomed city. 
 
 In earlier Bible times, there was, as the Tell-el- 
 Amarna bricks show, an extensive official corre 
 spondence between Canaan and Egypt, but private 
 letter-writing seems not to have been resorted to; 
 messages were transmitted orally to the parties 
 concerned. This fact is well illustrated by the 
 story of Joseph. He may, of course, have delib 
 erately resolved not to communicate with his fam 
 ily, but if letter-writing had been usual, his broth 
 ers would naturally have asked him a question 
 that did not suggest itself to them why he had 
 never written to tell his father of his fortunes. 
 When Saul desired to summon Israel, he sent, not 
 a letter, but a mutilated yoke of oxen; the earliest 
 letter mentioned in the Bible being that in which 
 King David ordered Uriah to be placed in the fore 
 front of the army. Jezebel sends letters in Ahab s 
 name to Naboth, Jehu to Samaria. In all these 
 cases letters were used for treacherous purposes, 
 and they are all short. Probably the authors of 
 these plots feared to betray their real intention 
 orally, and so they committed their orders to writ 
 ing, expecting their correspondents to read be 
 tween the lines. It is not till the time of Isaiah 
 
 279 
 
JEWS AND UETTEKS 
 
 that the references to writing become frequent. In 
 tercourse between Palestine on the one hand and 
 Babylon and Egypt on the other had then in 
 creased greatly, and the severance of the nation 
 itself tended to make correspondence through 
 writing more necessary. When we reach the age 
 of Jeremiah, this fact makes itself even more 
 strongly apparent. Letters are often mentioned by 
 that prophet (xxix. 25, 29), and a professional 
 class of Soferim, or scribes, make their appear 
 ance. Afterwards, of course, the Sofer became 
 of much higher importance; he was not merely a 
 professional writer, but a man learned in the Law, 
 who spread the knowledge of it among the people. 
 Later, again, these functions were separated, and 
 the Sofer added to his other offices that of 
 teacher of the young. Nowadays, he has regained 
 his earlier and less important position, for the 
 modern Sofer is simply a professional writer. 
 In the time of Ezekiel (ix. 2) the Sofer went 
 abroad with the implements of his trade, including 
 the inkhorn, at his side. In the Talmud, the 
 scribe is sometimes described by his Latin title 
 libellarius (Sabbath, iia). The Jews of Egypt, 
 as may be seen from the Assouan Papyri, wrote 
 home in cases of need in the time of Nehemiah; 
 
 280 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 and in the same age we hear also of " open letters," 
 for Sanballat sends a missive of that description by 
 his servant; and apparently it was by means of a 
 similar letter that the festival of Purim was an 
 nounced to the Jews (Esther ix., where, unlike the 
 other passages quoted, the exact words of the let 
 ter of Mordecai are not given) . The order to cele 
 brate Chanukah was published in the same way, 
 and, indeed, the books of the Apocrypha contain 
 many interesting letters, and in the pages of Jose- 
 phus the Jews hold frequent intercourse in this way 
 with many foreign countries. In the latter cases, 
 when the respective kings corresponded, the letters 
 were conveyed by special embassies. 
 
 One might expect this epistolary activity to dis 
 play itself at an even more developed stage in the 
 records of Rabbinical times. But this is by no 
 means the case, for the Rabbinical references to 
 letters in the beginning of the common era are few 
 and far between. Polemic epistles make their ap 
 pearance; but they are the letters of non-Jewish 
 missionaries like Paul. This form of polemical 
 writing possessed many advantages; the letters 
 were passed on from one reader to another; they 
 would be read aloud, too, before gatherings of the 
 people to whom they were addressed. Maimoni- 
 
 281 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 des, in later times, frequently adopted this method 
 of communicating with whole communities, and 
 many of the Geonim and other Jewish authorities 
 followed the same plan. But somehow the device 
 seems not to have commended itself to the earliest 
 Rabbis. Though we read of many personal visits 
 paid by the respective authorities of Babylon and 
 Palestine to one another, yet they appear to have 
 corresponded very rarely in writing. The reason 
 lay probably in the objection felt against commit 
 ting the Halachic, or legal, decisions of the schools 
 to writing, and there was little else of consequence 
 to communicate after the failure of Bar-Cochba s 
 revolt against the Roman rule. 
 
 It must not be thought, however, that this pro 
 hibition had the effect we have described for very 
 long. Rabbi Gamaliel, Rabbi Chananiah, and 
 many others had frequent correspondence with far 
 distant places, and as soon as the Mishnah acquired 
 a fixed form, even though it was not immediately 
 committed to writing, the recourse to letters be 
 came much more common. Pupils of the com 
 pilers of the Mishnah proceeded to Babylon to 
 spread its influence, and they naturally maintained 
 a correspondence with their chiefs in Palestine. 
 Rab and Samuel in particular, among the Amo- 
 
 282 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 raim, were regular letter-writers, and Rabbi Jocha- 
 nan replied to them. Towards the end of the third 
 century this correspondence between Judea and 
 Babylon became even more active. Abitur and 
 Abin often wrote concerning legal decisions and 
 the doings of the schools, and thereby the intellec 
 tual activity of Judaism maintained its solidarity 
 despite the fact that the Jewish people was no 
 longer united in one land. In the Talmud we fre 
 quently read, " they sent from there," viz. Pales 
 tine. Obviously these messages were sent in writ 
 ing, though possibly the bearer of the message was 
 often himself a scholar, who conveyed his report 
 by word of mouth. Perhaps the growth of the 
 Rabbi s practice of writing responses to questions 
 a practice that became so markedly popular in 
 subsequent centuries may be connected with the 
 similar habit of the Roman jurists and the Chris 
 tian Church fathers, and the form of response 
 adopted by the eighth century Geonim is reminis 
 cent of that of the Roman lawyers. The substance 
 of the letters, however, is by no means the same ; 
 the Church father wrote on dogmatic, the Rabbi 
 on legal, questions. Between the middle of the 
 fourth century and the time of the Geonim, we 
 find no information as to the use of letters among 
 
 283 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 the Jews. From that period onwards, however, 
 Jews became very diligent letter-writers, and some 
 times, for instance in the case of the " Guide of 
 the Perplexed " of Maimonides, whole works were 
 transmitted in the form of letters. The scattering 
 of Israel, too, rendered it important to Jews to ob 
 tain information of the fortunes of their brethren 
 in different parts of the world. Rumors of Messi 
 anic appearances from the twelfth century on 
 wards, the contest with regard to the study of phil 
 osophy, the fame of individual Rabbis, the rise of 
 a class of travellers who made very long and dan 
 gerous journeys, all tended to increase the facilities 
 and necessities of intercourse by letter. It was 
 long, however, before correspondence became easy 
 or safe. Not everyone is possessed of the post 
 men assigned in Midrashim to King Solomon, who 
 pressed demons into his service, and forced them 
 to carry his letters wheresoever he willed. Chas- 
 dai experienced considerable difficulty in transmit 
 ting his famous letter to the king of the Chazars, 
 and that despite his position .of authority in the 
 Spanish State. In 960 a letter on some question of 
 Kasher was sent from the Rhine to Palestine 
 proof of the way in which the most remote Jew 
 ish communities corresponded. 
 
 284 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 The question of the materials used in writing 
 has an important bearing on our subject. Of 
 course, the ritual regulations for writing the holy 
 books, the special preparation of the parchment, 
 the ink, the strict rules for the formation of the 
 letters, hardly fall within the province of this 
 article. In ancient times the most diverse sub 
 stances were used for writing on. Palm-leaves 
 (for which Palestine of old was famous) were a 
 common object for the purpose, being so used all 
 over Asia. Some authorities believe that in the 
 time of Moses the palm leaf was the ordinary 
 writing-material. Olive-leaves, again, were thick 
 and hard, while carob-leaves (St. John s bread), 
 besides being smooth, long, and broad, were ever 
 green, and thus eminently fitted for writing. Wal 
 nut shells, pomegranate skins, leaves of gourds, 
 onion-leaves, lettuce-heads, even the horns of cattle, 
 and the human body, letters being tattooed on the 
 hands of slaves, were all turned to account. It is 
 maintained by some that leather was the original 
 writing-material of the Hebrews; others, again, 
 give their vote in favor of linen, though the Tal 
 mud does not mention the latter material in connec 
 tion with writing. Some time after Alexander the 
 Great, the Egyptian papyrus became common in 
 
 885 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 Palestine, where it probably was known earlier, as 
 Jewish letters on papyrus were sent to Jerusalem 
 from the Fayyum in the fifth century B. c. E. 
 Even as late as Maimonides, the scrolls of the 
 Law were written on leather, and not on parch 
 ment, which is now the ordinary material for the 
 purpose. That the Torah was not to be written 
 on a vegetable product was an assumed first prin 
 ciple. The Samaritans went so far as to insist 
 that the animal whose hide was needed for so 
 
 holy a purpose, must be slain Kasher. Similarly 
 with divorce documents. A Get on paper would 
 be held legal post factum, though it is not allowed 
 to use that material, as it is easily destroyed or 
 mutilated, and the use of paper for the purpose 
 was confined to the East. Some allowed the Book 
 of Esther to be read from a paper copy; other au 
 thorities not only strongly objected to this, but 
 even forbade the reading of the Haftarah from 
 paper. Hence one finds in libraries so many parch 
 ment scrolls containing only the Haftarahs. The 
 Hebrew word for letter, Iggereth, is of unknown 
 origin, though it is now commonly taken to be an 
 
 Assyrian loan-word. It used to be derived from a 
 root signifying to " hire," in reference to the 
 " hired courier," by whom it was despatched. 
 
 286 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 Other terms for letter, such as " book," " roll," ex 
 plain themselves. Black ink was early used, though 
 it is certain that it was either kept in a solid state, 
 like India ink, or that it was of the consistency of 
 glue, and needed the application of water before it 
 could be used. For pens, the iron stylus, the reed, 
 needle, and quill (though the last was not admitted 
 without a struggle) were the common substitutes 
 at various dates. 
 
 We must now return to the subject with which 
 we set out, and make a few supplementary re 
 marks with regard to the actual conveyance of 
 letters. In the Talmud (Baba Mezia, 83b) a 
 proverb is quoted to this effect, " He who can read 
 and understand the contents of a letter, may be 
 the deliverer thereof." As a rule, one would pre 
 fer that the postman did not read the correspond 
 ence he carries, and this difficulty seems to have 
 stood in the w r ay of trusting letters to unknown 
 bearers. To remove this obstacle to free inter 
 course, Rabbenu Gershom issued his well-known 
 decree, under penalty of excommunication, against 
 anyone who, entrusted with a letter to another, 
 made himself master of its contents. To the 
 present day, in some places, the Jewish writer 
 writes on the outside of his letter, the abbreviation 
 
 287 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 , which alludes to this injunction of Rab- 
 benu Gershom. Again, the Sabbath was and still 
 is a difficulty with observant Jews. Rabbi Jose 
 ha-Cohen is mentioned in the Talmud (Sabbath, 
 iQa) as deserving of the following compliment. 
 He never allowed a letter of his to get into 
 the hands of a non-Jew, for fear he might carry it 
 on the Sabbath, and strict laws are laid down on 
 the subject. That Christians in modern times en 
 trusted their letters to Jews goes without saying, 
 and even in places where this is not commonly al 
 lowed, the non-Jew is employed when the letter 
 contains bad news. Perhaps for this reason Rab- 
 benu Jacob Tarn permitted divorces to be sent by 
 post, though the controversy on the legality of such 
 delivery is, I believe, still undecided. 
 
 Besides packmen, who would often be the me 
 dium by which letters were transmitted, there was 
 in some Jewish communities a special class that de 
 voted themselves to a particular branch of the pro 
 fession. They made it their business to seek out 
 lost sons and deliver messages to them from their 
 anxious parents. Some later Jewish authorities, 
 in view of the distress that the silence of absent 
 loved ones causes to those at home, lay down the 
 rule that the duty of honoring parents, the fifth 
 
 288 
 
JEWS AND LETTERS 
 
 commandment, includes the task of corresponding 
 when absent from them. These peripatetic letter- 
 carriers also conveyed the documents of divorce to 
 women that would otherwise be in the unpleasant 
 condition of being neither married nor single. 
 Among the most regular and punctual of Jewish 
 postmen may be mentioned the bearers of begging 
 letters and begging books. There is no fear that 
 these will not be duly delivered. 
 
 Our reference to letters of recommendation re 
 minds us of an act, on the part of a modern Rabbi, 
 of supererogation in the path of honesty. The 
 post is in the hands of the Government, and, ac 
 cordingly, the late Rabbi Bamberger of Wiirz- 
 burg, whenever he gave a Haskamah, or recom 
 mendation, which would be delivered by hand, was 
 wont to destroy a postage stamp, so as not to de 
 fraud the Government, even in appearance. With 
 this remarkable instance of conscientious upright 
 ness, we may fitly conclude this notice, suggested 
 as it has been by the modern improvements in the 
 postal system, which depend for their success so 
 largely on the honesty of the public. 
 
 [Notes, p. 314] 
 
 19 
 
VIII 
 THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 Dr. Johnson said, " It is easier to know that a 
 cake is bad than to make a good one." I had a 
 tiny quantity of material which, by dint of much 
 rolling, I might have expanded into a broad, flat, 
 unsubstantial whole, I preferred, however, to 
 make of my little piece of dough a little cake, small 
 and therefore less pretentious. I am afraid that 
 even in this concentrated form it will prove flavor 
 less and indigestible, but the cook must be blamed, 
 not the material. 
 
 I have no intention to consider the various opera 
 tions connected with the preparation of unleavened 
 Passover cakes : the kneading, the ingredients, the 
 curious regulations regarding the water used, such 
 precautions as carefully watching the ovens. Those 
 who are inclined to connect some of these customs 
 with the practices of non-Jewish peoples will find 
 some interesting facts on all theses topics; but 
 what I wish to speak of now is the shape and form 
 of Passover cakes. 
 
 290 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 The Christian emblems that figure in the cele 
 bration of the Eucharist, or Lord s Supper, were 
 probably derived from the ceremonies of the 
 Passover eve. The bread employed in the Eucha 
 rist is with some Christian sects unleavened, and, 
 indeed, leavened cakes seem to have been intro 
 duced solely as a protest against certain so-called 
 Judaizing tendencies. The Latin Church still con 
 tends for the propriety of employing unleavened 
 bread, and from the seventh century unleavened 
 bread was used at Rome and leavened bread at 
 Constantinople. From the earliest times, how 
 ever, the Eucharistic loaves were invariably round 
 in shape, there being, indeed, a supposed edict by 
 Pope Zephyrinus (197-217) to that effect. It is 
 passing strange that Bona, an ecclesiastical writer, 
 derived this roundness from the shape of the coins 
 Judas received for betraying his master. But 
 though there is no distinct enactment either in the 
 Talmud or in any of the later codes as to what 
 the form of the Matzoth must be, these have 
 been from time immemorial round also. Some 
 Minhagim are more firmly rooted than actual laws, 
 and this custom is one of them. In one of his car 
 toons, Picard has an illustration which is appar 
 ently that of a squarish Matzah; this may, how- 
 
 291 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 ever, be only a case of defective drawing. It is true 
 that in Roumania square Matzoth are used, but 
 in the controversy raised by the introduction of 
 Matzah-making machines, the opponents of the 
 change argued as though no other than a round 
 shape were conceivable. Kluger, for instance, never 
 seems to have realized that his weightiest objec 
 tion to the use of the machine would be obviated 
 by making the Matzoth square or rectangular. 
 When it was first proposed to introduce Matzah 
 machines in London, the resistance came chiefly 
 from the manufacturers, and not from the eccle 
 siastical authorities. The bakers refused categori 
 cally to make square Matzoth, declaring that if 
 they did so, their stock would be unsalable. Even 
 to the present day no square Matzoth are baked in 
 London ; those occasionally seen there are imported 
 from the Continent. The ancient Egyptians made 
 their cakes round, and the Matzoth are regarded 
 Midrashically as a memorial of the food which the 
 Egyptian masters forced on their Israelite slaves. 
 A round shape is apparently the simplest symmetri 
 cal form, but beyond this I fancy that the round 
 form of the Passover bread is partly due to the 
 double meaning of Uggoth Matzoth. The word 
 Uggoth signifies cakes baked in the sand or hot 
 
 292 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 embers; but Uggah also means a "circle." To re 
 turn, however, to the Eucharistic wafers. 
 
 A further point of identity, though only a mi 
 nute detail, can be traced in the regulation that the 
 Eucharistic oblate from which the priest communi 
 cated was, in the ninth century, larger than the 
 loaves used by the people. So the Passover cakes 
 (Shimmurim) used by the master of the house, 
 and particularly the middle cake, pieces of which 
 were distributed, were made larger than the ordi 
 nary Matzoth. Picard (1723) curiously enough 
 reverses this relation, and draws the ordinary 
 Matzoth much larger and thicker than the Shim 
 murim. The ordinary Matzoth he represents as 
 thick oval cakes, with a single coil of large holes, 
 which start outwards from the centre. Picard 
 speaks of Matzoth made in different shapes, but 
 he gives no details. 
 
 In the Middle Ages, and, indeed, as early as 
 Chrysostom (fourth century), the Church cakes 
 were marked with a cross, and bore various inscrip 
 tions. In the Coptic Church, for example, the le 
 gend was " Holy! holy! holy is the Lord of hosts." 
 Now, in a Latin work, Roma subterranea, about 
 1650, a statement is made which seems to imply 
 that the Passover cakes of the Jews were also 
 
 293 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 marked with crosses. What can have led to this 
 notion ? The origin is simple enough. The ancient 
 Romans, as Aringhus himself writes, and as Virgil, 
 Horace, and Martial frequently mention, made 
 their loaves with cross indentations, in order to 
 facilitate dividing them into four parts : much as 
 nowadays Scotch scones are baked four together, 
 and the central dividing lines give the fourfold 
 scone the appearance of bearing a cross mark. It 
 may be that the Jews made their Passover cakes, 
 which were thicker than ours and harder to break, 
 in the same way. But, besides, the small holes and 
 indentations that cover the surface of the modern 
 Matzah might, if the Matzah be held in certain 
 positions, possibly be mistaken for a cross. These 
 indentations are, I should add, very ancient, being 
 referred to in the Talmud, and, if I may venture 
 a suggestion, also in the Bible, I Kings xiv. 3, and 
 elsewhere, Nekudim being cakes punctuated with 
 small interstices. 
 
 We can carry the explanation a little further. 
 The three Matzoth Shimmurim used in the Hag- 
 gadah Service were made with especial care, and in 
 medieval times were denominated Priest, Levite, 
 Israelite, in order to discriminate among them. 
 Picard, by an amusing blunder, speaks of a gateau 
 
 294 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 des Uvites; he, of course, means the middle cake. 
 From several authorities it is clear that the three 
 Matzoth were inscribed in some cases with these 
 three words, in others with the letters Alef ) Beth, 
 Gimmel, in order to distinguish them. A rough 
 Alef would not look unlike a cross. Later on, 
 the three Matzoth were distinguished by one, two, 
 three indentations respectively, as in the Roman 
 numerals; and even at the present day care is 
 sometimes taken, though in other ways, to prevent 
 the Priest, Levite, and Israelite from falling into 
 confusion. I do not know whether the stringent 
 prohibition, by the Shulchan Aruch, of " shaped 
 or marked cakes " for use on Passover, may not 
 be due to the fact that the Eucharistic cakes used 
 by Christians were marked with letters and sym 
 bols. Certain it is that the prohibition of these 
 " shaped " cakes is rather less emphatic in the Tal 
 mud than in the later authorities, who up to a cer 
 tain date are never weary of condemning or at 
 least discouraging the practice. The custom of 
 using these cakes is proved to be widespread by 
 the very frequency of the prohibitions, and they 
 were certainly common in the beginning of the six 
 teenth century, from which period seems to date 
 the custom of making the Matzoth very thin, 
 
 295 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 though the thicker species has not been entirely 
 superseded even up to the present day. In the 
 East the Matzoth are still made very thick and 
 unpalatable. They cannot be eaten as they are; 
 they are either softened, by being dipped in some 
 liquid, or they are ground down to meal, and then 
 remade into smaller and more edible cakes. 
 
 The Talmud mentions a " stamp " in connec 
 tion with " shaped cakes," which Buxtorf takes 
 for Lebkuchen, and Levy for scalloped and fanci 
 fully-edged cakes. The Geonim, however, ex 
 plain that they were made in the forms of birds, 
 beasts, and fishes. I have seen Matzoth made in 
 this way in London, and have myself eaten many 
 a Matzah sheep and monkey, but, unfortunately, I 
 cannot recollect whether it was during Passover. 
 In Holland, these shaped cakes are still used, but 
 in " strict " families only before the Passover. 
 
 Limits of space will not allow me to quote some 
 interesting notes with reference to Hebrew inscrip 
 tions on cakes generally, which would furnish par 
 allels to the Holy! holy! of the Coptic wafers. 
 Children received such cakes as a " specific for be 
 coming wise." Some directions may be found in 
 Sefer Razlel for making charm-cakes, which must 
 have been the reverse of charming from the unut 
 terable names of angels written on them. One such 
 
 296 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 charm, however, published by Horwitz, I cannot 
 refrain from mentioning, as it is very curious and 
 practical. It constitutes a never-failing antidote to 
 forgetfulness, and, for aught I know, may be quite 
 as efficacious as some of the quack mnemonic sys 
 tems extensively advertised nowadays. 
 
 " The following hath been tried and found reliable, and Rabbi 
 Saadia ben Joseph made use of it. He discovered it in the cave 
 of Rabbi Eleazar Kalir, and all the wise men of Israel together 
 with their pupils applied the remedy with excellent effect: At 
 the beginning of the month of Sivan take some wheatmeal and 
 knead it, and be sure to remain standing. Make cakes and bake 
 them, write thereon the verse, Memory hath He made among 
 His wondrous acts: gracious and merciful is the Lord. Take 
 an egg and boil it hard, peel it, and write on it the names of 
 five angels ; eat such a cake every day, for thirty days, with an 
 egg, and thou wilt learn all thou seest, and wilt never forget." 
 
 The manuscript illuminated Haggadahs are re 
 plete with interest and information. But I must 
 avoid further observations on these manuscripts ex 
 cept in so far as they illustrate my present subject. 
 In the Haggadah the question is asked, " Why do 
 we eat this Matzah? " and at the words " this 
 Matzah " the illuminated manuscripts contain, in 
 the great majority of cases, representations of Mat- 
 zoth. These in some instances present rather in- 
 
 297 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 teresting features, which may throw historical light 
 on the archeology of the subject. Some of these 
 figured Matzoth are oval, one I have seen star- 
 shaped, but almost all are circular in form. Many, 
 however, unlike the modern Matzah and owing to 
 the shape of the mould, have a broad border dis 
 tinct from the rest of the cake. The Crawford 
 Haggadah, now in the Ryland library, Manchester, 
 pictures a round Matzah through which a pretty 
 flowered design runs. Others, again, and this I 
 think a very ancient, as it certainly is a very com 
 mon, design, are covered with transverse lines, 
 which result in producing diamond-shaped spaces 
 with a very pleasing effect, resembling somewhat 
 the appearance of the lattice work cakes used in 
 Italy and Persia, I think. The lines, unless they be 
 mere pictorial embellishments, are, possibly, as in 
 the Leeds cakes, rows of indentations resulting 
 from the punctuation of the Matzah. In one 
 British Museum manuscript (Roman rite, 1482), 
 the star and diamond shapes are combined, the bor 
 der being surrounded with small triangles, and the 
 centre of the cake being divided into diamond-like 
 sections. In yet another manuscript the Matzah 
 has a border, divided by small lines into almost 
 rectangular sections, while the body of the cake is 
 
 298 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 ornamented with a design in which variously shaped 
 figures, quadrilaterals and triangles, are irregularly 
 interspersed. One fanciful picture deserves special 
 mention, as it is the only one of the kind in all the il 
 lustrated manuscripts and printed Haggadahs in the 
 Oxford and British Museum libraries. This Mat 
 zah occurs in an Italian manuscript of the four 
 teenth century. It is adorned with a flowered bor 
 der, and in the centre appears a human-faced quad 
 ruped of apparently Egyptian character. 
 
 Poetry and imagination are displayed in some 
 of these devices, but in only one or two cases did 
 the artists attain high levels of picturesque illustra 
 tion. How suggestive, for instance, is the chain 
 pattern, adopted in a manuscript of the Michaelis 
 Collection at Oxford. It must not be thought that 
 this idea at least was never literally realized, for 
 only last year I was shown a Matzah made after a 
 very similar design, possibly not for use on the first 
 two nights of Passover. The bread of affliction re 
 calls the Egyptian bonds, and it is an ingenious 
 idea to bid us ourselves turn the ancient chains to 
 profitable use by eating them. This expressive 
 design is surpassed by another, found in a beauti 
 fully-illuminated manuscript of the fourteenth cen 
 tury. This Matzah bears a curious device in the 
 
 299 
 
THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 centre: it is a prison door modelled with consid 
 erable skill, but I do not suppose that Matzoth 
 were ever made in this fashion. 
 
 [Notes, pp. 314-315] 
 
 300 
 
NOTES 
 
 " THE BOOK OF DELIGHT " 
 (pp. 9-61) 
 
 The connection between Zabara s work and the Solomon and 
 Marcolf legend was first pointed out in my " Short History of 
 Jewish Literature" (1906), p. 95. I had long before detected 
 the resemblance, though I was not aware of it when I wrote 
 an essay on Zabara in the Jewish Quarterly Review. To the 
 latter (vi, pp. 502 et seq.} the reader is referred for biblio 
 graphical notes, and also for details on the textual relations of 
 the two editions of Zabara s poem. 
 
 A number of parallels with other folk-literatures are there in 
 dicated; others have been added by Dr. Israel Davidson, in his 
 edition of the "Three Satires" (New York, 1904), which accom 
 pany the " Book of Delight " in the Constantinople edition, and 
 are also possibly by Zabara. 
 
 The late Professor David Kaufmann informed me some years 
 ago that he had a manuscript of the poem in his possession. 
 But, after his death, the manuscript could not be found in his 
 library. Should it eventually be rediscovered, it would be de 
 sirable to have a new, carefully printed edition of the Hebrew 
 text of the " Book of Delight." I would gladly place at the 
 disposal of the editor my copy of the Constantinople edition, 
 made from the Oxford specimen. The Bodleian copy does not 
 seem to be unique, as had been supposed. 
 
 The literature on the Solomon and Marcolf legend is exten 
 sive. The following references may suffice. J. M. Kemble 
 published (London, 1848) "The Dialogue of Solomon and 
 Saturnus," for the Aelfric Society. "Of all the forms of the 
 
 301 
 
NOTES A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 
 story yet preserved," says Mr. Kemble, " the Anglo-Saxon are 
 undoubtedly the oldest." He talks vaguely of the intermixture 
 of Oriental elements, but assigns a northern origin to one portion 
 of the story. Grimm had argued for a Hebrew source, think 
 ing Marcolf a name of scorn in Hebrew. But the Hebrew Mar- 
 colis (or however one may spell it) is simply Mercury. In the 
 Latin version, however, Marcolf is distinctly represented as 
 coming from the East. William of Tyre (i2th cent.) suggests 
 the identity of Marcolf with Abdemon, whom Josephus ( Antiq 
 uities," VIII, v, 3) names as Hiram s Riddle-Guesser. A useful 
 English edition is E. Gordon Duff s " Dialogue or Communing 
 between the Wise King Salomon and Marcolphus " (London, 
 1892). Here, too, as in the Latin version, Marcolf is a man 
 from the Orient. Besides these books, two German works de 
 serve special mention. F. Vogt, in his essay entitled Die deutschen 
 Dichtungen von Salomon und Markolf, which appeared in Halle, 
 in 1880, also thinks Marcolf an Eastern. Finally, as the second 
 part of his Untersuchungen zur mittelhochdeutschen Spielmanns- 
 poesie" (Schwerin, 1894), H. Tardel published Zum Salman- 
 Morolf. Tardel is skeptical as to the Eastern provenance of the 
 legend. 
 
 It has been thought that a form of this legend is referred to 
 in the fifth century. The Contradictio Solomonis, which Pope 
 Gelasius excluded from the sacred canon, has been identified 
 with some version of the Marcolf story. 
 
 A VISIT TO HEBRON 
 (pp. 62-92) 
 
 The account of Hebron, given in this volume, must be read for 
 what it was designed to be, an impressionist sketch. The history 
 of the site, in so far as it has been written, must be sought in 
 more technical books. As will be seen from several details, my 
 visit was paid in the month of April, just before Passover. 
 Things have altered in some particulars since I was there, but 
 there has been no essential change in the past decade. 
 
 302 
 
NOTES THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 The Hebron Haram, or shrine over the Cave of Machpelah, 
 is fully described in the " Cruise of H. M. S. Bacchante, 1879- 
 1882," ii, pp. 595-619. (Compare "Survey of Western Pales 
 tine," iii, pp. 333-346; and the Quarterly Statement of the Pales 
 tine Exploration Fund, 1882, pp. 197-214.) Colonel Conder s 
 account narrates the experiences of the present King of England 
 at the Haram in April, 1882. Dean Stanley had previously en 
 tered the Haram with King Edward VII, in January, 1862 (see 
 Stanley s "Sermons in the East," 1863, pp. 141-169). A good 
 note on the relation between these modern narratives and David 
 Reubeni s (dating from the early part of the sixteenth century) 
 was contributed by Canon Dalton to the Quarterly Statement, 
 1897, p. 53. A capital plan of the Haram is there printed. 
 
 Mr. Adler s account of his visit to Hebron will be found in 
 his "Jews in Many Lands," pp. 104-111; he tells of his entry 
 into the Haram on pp. 137-138. 
 
 M. Lucien Gautier s work referred to is his Souvenirs du 
 Terre-Sainte (Lausanne, 1898). The description of glass-mak 
 ing appears on p. 53 of that work. 
 
 The somewhat startling identification of the Ramet el-Khalil, 
 near Hebron, with the site of the altar built by Samuel in 
 Ramah (I Sam. vii. 17) is justified at length in Mr. Shaw Calde- 
 cott s book "The Tabernacle, its History and Structure" (Lon 
 don, 1904). 
 
 THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 (pp. 93-121) 
 
 The opening quotation is from the Ethical Will of Judah ibn 
 Tibbon, the " father " of Jewish translators. The original is 
 fully analyzed in an essay by the present writer, in the Jewish 
 Quarterly Review, iii, 453. See also ibidem, p. 483. The Hebrew 
 text was printed by Edelmann, and also by Steinschneider; by 
 the latter at Berlin, 1852. 
 
 A writer much cited in this same essay, Richard of Bury, de 
 rived his name from his birthplace, Bury St. Edmunds. " He 
 tells us himself in his Philobiblon that he used his high offices 
 
 I 303 
 
NOTES THE SOLACE OF BOOKS 
 
 of state as a means of collecting books. He let it be known that 
 books were the most acceptable presents that could be made to 
 him" ("Dictionary of National Biography," viii, 26). He was 
 also a student of Hebrew, and collected grammars of that lan 
 guage. Altogether his " Philobiblon " is an " admirable exhibi 
 tion of the temper of a book-lover." Written in the early part 
 of the fourteenth century, the " Philobiblon " was first published, 
 at Cologne, in 1473. The English edition cited in this essay is 
 that published in the King s Classics (De la More Library, ed. 
 I. Gollancz). 
 
 The citation from Montaigne is from his essay on the " Three 
 Commerces" (bk. iii, ch. iii). The same passages, in Florio s 
 rendering, will be found in Mr. A. R. Waller s edition (Dent s 
 Everyman s Library), iii, pp. 48-50. Of the three "Com 
 merces" (/. e. societies) Men, Women, and Books Montaigne 
 proclaims that the commerce of books " is much more solid-sure 
 and much more ours." I have claimed Montaigne as the great- 
 grandson of a Spanish Jew on the authority of Mr. Waller (In 
 troduction, p. vii). 
 
 The paragraphs on books from the " Book of the Pious," 
 873-932, have been collected (and translated into English) 
 by the Rev. Michael Adler, in an essay called " A Medieval 
 Bookworm" (see The Bookworm, ii, 251). 
 
 The full title of Mr. Alexander Ireland s book so much 
 drawn upon in this essay is " The Book-Lover s Enchiridion, a 
 Treasury of Thoughts on the Solace and Companionship of 
 Books, Gathered from the Writings of the Greatest Thinkers, 
 from Cicero, Petrarch, and Montaigne, to Carlyle, Emerson, and 
 Ruskin " (London and New York, 1894). 
 
 Mr. F. M. Nichols edition of the "Letters of Erasmus" (1901) 
 is the source of the quotation of one of that worthy s letters. 
 
 The final quotation comes from the Wisdom of Solomon, ch. 
 vi. v. 12; ch. viii. vv. 2, 16; and ch. ix. v. 4. The " radiance " of 
 Wisdom is, in ch. vii, 26, explained in the famous words, " For 
 she is an effulgence from everlasting light, an unspotted mirror 
 of the working of God, and an image of His goodness." 
 
 304 
 
NOTES MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 MEDIEVAL WAYFARING 
 
 (pp. 122-158) 
 
 The evidence for many of the statements in this paper will be 
 found in various contexts in " Jewish Life in the Middle Ages," 
 in the Hebrew travel literature, and in such easily accessible 
 works as Graetz s " History of the Jews." 
 
 Achimaaz has been much used by me. His " Book of Geneal 
 ogies " (Sefer Yochasin] was written in 1055. The Hebrew 
 text w r as included by Dr. A. Neubauer in his " Mediaeval 
 Jewish Chronicles," ii, pp. 114 et seq. I might have cited 
 Achimaaz s account of an amusing incident in the synagogue at 
 Venosa. There had been an uproar in the Jewish quarter, and 
 a wag added some lines on the subject to the manuscript of the 
 Midrash which the travelling preacher was to read on the fol 
 lowing Sabbath. The effect of the reading may be imagined. 
 
 Another source for many of my statements is a work by Julius 
 Aronius, Regesten zur Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland, 
 Berlin, 1893. It presents many new facts on the medieval Jewries 
 of Germany. 
 
 The quaint story of the Jewish sailors told by Synesius is 
 taken from T. R. Glover s " Life and Letters in the Fourth 
 Century" (Cambridge, 1901), p. 330. 
 
 A careful statement on communal organization with regard to 
 the status of travellers and settlers was contributed by Weinberg 
 to vol. xli of the Breslau Monatsschrift. The title of the series of 
 papers is Die Organisation der jiidischen Gemeinden. 
 
 For evidence of the existence of Communal Codes, or Note- 
 Books, see Dr. A. Berliner s Beitrdge zur Geschichte der Raschi- 
 Commentare, Berlin, 1903, p. 3. 
 
 Benjamin of Tudela s "Itinerary" has been often edited, most 
 recently by the late M. N. Adler (London, 1907). Benjamin s 
 travels occupied the years 1166 to 1171, and his narrative is at 
 once informing and entertaining. The motives for his extensive 
 journeys through Europe, Asia, and Africa are thus summed up 
 by Mr. Adler (pp. xii, xiii) : "At the time of the Crusades, the 
 
 20 305 
 
NOTES THE FOX S HEART 
 
 most prosperous communities in Germany and the Jewish con 
 gregations that lay along the route to Palestine had been exter 
 minated or dispersed, and even in Spain, where the Jews had 
 enjoyed complete security for centuries, they were being piti 
 lessly persecuted in the Moorish kingdom of Cordova. It is not 
 unlikely, therefore, that Benjamin may have undertaken his 
 journey with the object of finding out where his expatriated 
 brethren might find an asylum. It will be noted that Benjamin 
 seems to use every effort to trace and afford particulars of inde 
 pendent communities of Jews, who had chiefs of their own, and 
 owed no allegiance to the foreigner. He may have had trade 
 and mercantile operations in view. He certainly dwells on mat 
 ters of commercial interest with considerable detail. Probably 
 he was actuated by both motives, coupled with the pious wish 
 of making a pilgrimage to the land of his fathers." 
 
 For Jewish pilgrims to Palestine see Steinschneider s contribu 
 tion to Rohricht and Meisner s Deutsche Pilgerreisen, pp. 548- 
 648. My statement as to the existence of a Jewish colony at 
 Ramleh in the eleventh century is based on Genizah documents 
 at Cambridge, T. S. 13 J. i. 
 
 For my account of the Trade Routes of the Jews in the medie 
 val period, I am indebted to Beazley s " Dawn of Modern Geo 
 graphy," p. 430. 
 
 The Letter of Nachmanides is quoted from Dr. Schechter s 
 "Studies in Judaism," First Series, pp. 131 et seg. The text of 
 Obadiah of Bertinoro s letter was printed by Dr. Neubauer in the 
 Jahrbuch fur die Geschichte der Juden, 1863. 
 
 THE FOX S HEART 
 
 (pp. 159-171) 
 
 The main story discussed in this essay is translated from the 
 so-called "Alphabet of Ben Sira," the edition used being Stein 
 schneider s (Alphabetum Siracidis, Berlin, 1858). 
 
 The original work consists of two Alphabets of Proverbs, 
 twenty-two in Aramaic and twenty-two in Hebrew and ii cm- 
 
NOTES " MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN" 
 
 bellished with comments and fables. A full account of the book 
 is given in a very able article by Professor L. Ginzberg, " Jew 
 ish Encyclopedia," ii, p. 678. The author is not the Ben Sira 
 who wrote the Wisdom book in the Apocrypha, but the ascription 
 of it to him led to the incorporation of some legends concerning 
 him. Dr. Ginzberg also holds this particular Fox Fable to be a 
 composite, and to be derived more or less from Indian originals. 
 
 "MARRIAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN" 
 (pp. 172-183) 
 
 The chief authorities to which the reader is referred are: 
 Midrash Rabba, Genesis 68; Leviticus 29; and Numbers 3 
 and 22. Further, Midrash Tanchuma, to the sections Ki tissa, 
 Mattoth, and Vayishlach; Midrash Samuel, ch. v; Babylonian 
 Talmud, Moed Katon, i8b, and Sotah, 2a. 
 
 In Dr. W. Bacher s Agada der Tannaiten, ii, pp. 168-170, will 
 be found important notes on some of these passages. 
 
 I have freely translated the story of Solomon s daughter from 
 Buber s Tanchuma, Introduction, p. 136. It is clearly pieced to 
 gether from several stories, too familiar to call for the citation 
 of parallels. With one of the incidents may be compared the 
 device of Sindbad in his second voyage. He binds himself to 
 one of the feet of a rukh, * . e, condor, or bearded vulture. In 
 another adventure he attaches himself to the carcass of a 
 slaughtered animal, and is borne aloft by a vulture. A similar 
 incident may be noted in Pseudo-Ben Sira (Steinschneider, p. 5). 
 
 Compare also Gubernatis, Zool. Myth, ii, 94. The fabulous 
 anka was banished as punishment for carrying off a bride. 
 
 For the prayers based on belief in the Divine appointment of 
 marriages, see " Jewish Life in the Middle Ages," ch. x. 
 
 One of the many sixteenth century Tobit dramas is Tobie, 
 Comedle De Catherin Le Doux: En- laquelle on void comme les 
 marriages sont faicts au del, & qu il n y a rien qui eschappe la 
 providence de Dieu (Cassel, 1604). 
 
 307 
 
NOTES HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 (pp. 184-241) 
 
 From personal observation, Dr. G. H. Dalman collected a large 
 number of modern Syrian songs in his Palastinischer Diivan 
 (Leipzig, 1901). The songs were taken down, and the melodies 
 noted, in widely separated districts. Judea, the Hauran, Leba 
 non, are all represented. Dr. Dalman prints the Arabic text 
 in "Latin" transliteration, and appends German renderings. 
 Wetzstein s earlier record of similar folk-songs appears in De- 
 litzsch s Commentary on Canticles HoheliedundKoheleth,i% r jf > 
 and also in the Zeitschrijt fur Ethnologic, v, p. 287. Previous 
 commentators had sometimes held that the Song of Songs was a 
 mere collection of detached and independent fragments, but on 
 the basis of Wetzstein s discoveries, Professor Budde elaborated 
 his theory, that the Song is a Syrian wedding-minstrel s reper 
 tory. 
 
 This theory will be found developed in Budde s Commentary 
 on Canticles (1898) ; it is a volume in Marti s Kurzer Hand- 
 Commentar zum Alien Testament. An elaborate and destructive 
 criticism of the repertory theory may be read in Appendix ii of 
 Mr. Andrew Harper s "Song of Solomon" (1902): the book 
 forms a volume in the series of the Cambridge Bible for Schools. 
 Harper s is a very fine work, and not the least of its merits is 
 its exposition of the difficulties which confront the attempt to deny 
 unity of plot and plan to the Biblical song. Harper also ex 
 presses a sound view as to the connection between love-poetry 
 and mysticism. " Sensuality and mysticism are twin moods of 
 the mind." The allegorical significance of the Song of Songs goes 
 back to the Targum, an English version of which has been 
 published by Professor H. Gollancz in his "Translations from 
 Hebrew and Aramaic" (1908). 
 
 Professor J. P. Mahaffy s view on the Idylls of Theocritus may 
 be read in his "History of Greek Literature," ii, p. 170, and in 
 several pages of his " Greek Life and Thought " (see Index, 
 s. .). 
 
 308 
 
NOTES HEBREW LOVE SONGS 
 
 The passage in which Graetz affirms the borrowing of the 
 pastoral scheme by the author of Canticles from Theocritus, is 
 translated from p. 69 of Graetz s Schir ha-Schirim, oder das 
 salomonische Hohelied (Vienna, 1871). Though the present 
 writer differs entirely from the opinion of Graetz on this point, 
 he has no hesitation in describing Graetz s Commentary as a 
 masterpiece of brilliant originality. 
 
 The rival theory, that Theocritus borrowed from the Biblical 
 Song, is supported by Professor D. S. Margoliouth, in his " Lines 
 of Defence of the Biblical Revelation" (1900), pp. 2-7. He also 
 suggests (p. 7), that Theocritus borrowed lines 86-87 of Idyll 
 xxiv from Isaiah xi. 6. 
 
 The evidence from the scenery of the Song, in favor of the 
 natural and indigenous origin of the setting of the poem, is 
 strikingly illustrated in G. A. Smith s " Historical Geography of 
 the Holy Land" (ed. 1901), pp. 310-311. The quotation from 
 Laurence Oliphant is taken from his " Land of Gilead " (Lon 
 don, 1880). 
 
 Egyptian parallels to Canticles occur in the hieroglyphic love- 
 poems published by Maspero in Etudes egyptiennes, i, pp. 217 
 et seq., and by Spiegelberg in Aegyptiaca (contained in the Ebers 
 Festschrift, pp. 177 et seq.}. Maspero, describing, in 1883, the 
 affinities of Canticles to the old Egyptian love songs, uses almost 
 the same language as G. E. Lessing employed in 1777, in summar 
 izing the similarities between Canticles and Theocritus. It will 
 amuse the reader to see the passages side by side. 
 
 MASPERO LESSING 
 
 // n y a personne qui, en Itnmo sunt qui maxima., 
 
 lisant la traduction de ces similitudinem inter Canticum 
 
 chants, ne soit frappe de la Canticorum et Theocriti Idyllla 
 
 ressemblance qu ils presentent esse statuant quod iisdem 
 
 avec le Cantique des Cantiques. fere videtur esse verbis, lo- 
 
 Ce sont les memes faqons , quendi formulis, similibus, 
 
 les memes images , les transitu, figuri s. 
 
 memes comparaisons. 
 
 309 
 
NOTES GEORGE ELIOT AND SOLOMON MAIMON 
 
 If these resemblances were so very striking, then, as argued 
 in the text of this essay, the Idylls of Theocritus ought to resemble 
 the Egyptian poems. This, however, they utterly fail to do. 
 
 For my acquaintance with the modern Greek songs I am 
 indebted to Mr. G. F. Abbott s " Songs of Modern Greece " 
 (Cambridge, 1900). The Levantine character of the melodies 
 to Hebrew Piyyutim based on the Song of Songs is pointed out 
 by Mr. F. L. Cohen, in the " Jewish Encyclopedia," i, p. 294, 
 and iii, p. 47. 
 
 The poem of Taubah, and the comments on it, are taken from 
 C. J. L. Lyall s " Translations of Ancient Arabic Poetry, chiefly 
 prae-Islamic " (1885), p. 76. 
 
 The Hebrew text of Moses ibn Ezra s poem cited with refer 
 ence to the figure of love surviving the grave may be found in 
 Kaempf s Zehn Makamen (1858), p. 215. A German transla 
 tion is given, I believe, in the same author s Nichtandalusische 
 Poesie andalusischer Dichter. 
 
 Many Hebrew love-poems, in German renderings, are quoted 
 in Dr. A. Sulzbach s essay, Die poetische Litter atur (second sec 
 tion, Die iveltliche Poesie), contributed to the third volume of 
 Winter and Wiinsche s Jiidische Litteratur (1876). His com 
 ments, cited in my essay, occur in that work, p. 160. Amy Levy s 
 renderings of some of Jehudah Halevi s love songs are quoted 
 by Lady Magnus in the first of her " Jewish Portraits." Dr. J. 
 Egers discusses Samuel ha-Nagid s " Stammering Maid " in the 
 Graetz Julehchrift (1877), pp. 116-126. 
 
 GEORGE ELIOT AND SOLOMON MAIMON 
 (pp. 242-246) 
 
 The Autobiography of Solomon Maimon (1754-1800) was 
 published in Berlin (1792-3) in two parts, under the title Salo 
 mon Maimon s Lebensgeschichte. Moses Mendelssohn befriended 
 Maimon, in so far as it was possible to befriend so wayward a 
 personality. Maimon made real contributions to philosophy. 
 
 The description of Daniel Deronda s purchase of the volume is 
 
 310 
 
NOTES HOW MILTON PRONOUNCED HEBREW 
 
 contained in ch. xxxiii of the novel. In Holborn, Deronda came 
 across a " second-hand book-shop, where, on a narrow table out 
 side, the literature of the ages was represented in judicious mix 
 ture, from the immortal verse of Homer to the mortal prose of 
 the railway novel. That the mixture was judicious was apparent 
 from Deronda s finding in it something that he wanted namely, 
 that wonderful piece of autobiography, the life of the Polish Jew, 
 Salomon Maimon." 
 
 The man in temporary charge of the shop was Mordecai. This 
 is his first meeting with Deronda, who, after an intensely dra 
 matic interval, " paid his half-crown and carried off his Salomon 
 Maimon s Lebensgeschichte with a mere Good Morning. " 
 
 HOW MILTON PRONOUNCED HEBREW 
 
 (pp. 247-250) 
 
 Milton s transliterations are printed in several editions of his 
 poems; the version used in this book is that given in D. Mas- 
 son s "Poetical Works of Milton," iii, pp. 5-11. The notes 
 of the late A. B. Davidson on Milton s Hebrew knowledge are 
 cited in the same volume by Masson (p. 483). Landor had no 
 high opinion of Milton as a translator. " Milton," he said, " was 
 never so much a regicide as when he lifted up his hand and 
 smote King David." But there can be no doubt of Milton s 
 familiarity with the original, whatever be the merit of the 
 translations. To me, Milton s rendering of Psalm Ixxxiv seems 
 very fine. 
 
 The controversy between the advocates of the versions of Rous 
 and Barton which led to Milton s effort is described in Masson, 
 ii, p. 312. 
 
 Reuchlin s influence on the pronunciation of Hebrew in Eng 
 land is discussed by Dr. S. A. Hirsch, in his " Book of Essays " 
 (London, 1905), p. 60. Roger Bacon, at a far earlier date, must 
 have pronounced Hebrew in much the same way, but he was 
 not guilty of the monstrosity of turning the Ayin into a nasal. 
 Bacon (as may be seen from the facsimile printed by Dr. Hirsch) 
 left the letter Ayin unpronounced, which is by far the best course 
 for Westerns to adopt. 
 
 311 
 
NOTES THE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA 
 
 THE CAMBRIDGE PLATONISTS 
 
 (pp. 251-254) 
 
 Henry More (1614-1687) was the most important of the 
 " Cambridge Platonists." Several of his works deal with the 
 Jewish Cabbala. More recognized a "Threefold Cabbala, Lit 
 eral, Philosophical, and Mystical, or Divinely Moral." He ded 
 icated his Conjectura Cabbalistica to Cudworth, Master of 
 Christ s College, Cambridge, of which More was a Fellow. Cud- 
 worth was one of those who attended the Whitehall Conference, 
 summoned by Cromwell in 1655 to discuss the readmission of 
 the Jews to England. 
 
 Platonic influence was always prevalent in mystical thought. 
 The Cabbala has intimate relations with neo-Platonism. 
 
 THE ANGLO-JEWISH YIDDISH LITERARY SOCIETY 
 
 (pp. 255-258) 
 
 The question raised as to the preservation of Yiddish is not 
 unimportant at this juncture. It is clear that the old struggle 
 between Hebrew and Yiddish for predominance as the Jewish 
 language must become more and more severe as Hebrew ad 
 vances towards general acceptance as a living language. 
 
 Probably the struggle will end in compromise. Hebrew might 
 become one of the two languages spoken by Jews, irrespective of 
 what the other language might happen to be. 
 
 THE MYSTICS AND SAINTS OF INDIA 
 
 (pp. 259-265) 
 
 The full title of Professor Oman s work is " The Mystics, 
 Ascetics, and Saints of India. A Study of Sadhuism, with an 
 account of the Yogis, Sanyasis, Bairagis, and other strange Hindu 
 Sectaries" (London, 1903). 
 
 The subject of asceticism in Judaism has of late years been 
 more sympathetically treated than used to be the case. The 
 Jewish theologians of a former generation were concerned to 
 
 312 
 
NOTES LOST PURIM JOYS 
 
 attack the excesses to which an ascetic course of life may lead. 
 This attack remains as firmly justified as ever. But to deny a 
 place to asceticism in the Jewish scheme, is at once to pronounce 
 the latter defective and do violence to fact. 
 
 Speaking of the association of fasting with repentance, Dr. 
 Schechter says : " It is in conformity with this sentiment, for 
 which there is abundant authority both in the Scriptures and in 
 the Talmud, that ascetic practices tending both as a sacrifice 
 and as a castigation of the flesh, making relapse impossible, be 
 come a regular feature of the penitential course in the medieval 
 Rabbinic literature" ("Some Aspects of Rabbinic Theology," 
 1909, PP- 339-340). 
 
 Moreover, the fuller appreciation of the idea of saintliness, 
 and the higher esteem of the mystical elements in Judaism 
 ideas scarcely to be divorced from asceticism have helped to 
 confirm the newer attitude. Here, too, Dr. Schechter has done a 
 real service to theology. The Second Series of his " Studies in 
 Judaism " contains much on this subject. What he has written 
 should enable future exponents of Judaism to form a more 
 balanced judgment on the whole matter. 
 
 Fortunately, the newer view is not confined to any one school 
 of Jewish thought. The reader will find, in two addresses con 
 tained in Mr. C. G. Montefiore s "Truth in Religion" (1906), an 
 able attempt to weigh the value and the danger of an ascetic view 
 of life. It w T as, indeed, time that the Jewish attitude towards so 
 powerful a force should be reconsidered. 
 
 LOST PURIM JOYS 
 
 (pp. 266-272) 
 
 The burning of Haman in effigy is recorded in the Responsa 
 of a Gaon published by Professor L. Ginzberg in his " Geniza 
 Studies" ("Geonica," ii, pp. 1-3). He holds that the statement 
 as to the employment of " Purim bonfires among the Babylonian 
 and Elamitic Jews as given in the Aruch (s. v. *WV) undoubt 
 edly goes back to this Responsum." 
 
 313 
 
NOTES THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 On Purim parodies much useful information will be found in 
 Dr. Israel Davidson s "Parody in Jewish Literature" (New 
 York, 1907). See Index s. e v. Purim (p. 289). 
 
 For a statement of the supposed connection between Purim 
 and other spring festivals, see Paul Haupt s "Purim" (Balti 
 more, 1906), and the article in the "Encyclopaedia Biblica," cols. 
 3976-3983. Such theories do not account adequately for the 
 Book of Esther. 
 
 Schudt (Jiidische Merkwiirdigkeiten, 1713, ii, p. 314) gives a 
 sprightly account of what seems to have been the first public 
 performance of a Purim play in Germany. 
 
 JEWS AND LETTERS 
 (pp. 273-289) 
 
 Leopold Low investigated the history of writing, and of the 
 materials used among the Jews, in his Graphische Requisiten 
 und Erzeugnisse bei den Juden (2- vols., Leipzig, 1870-71). 
 
 On Jewish letter-carriers in Germany, see the article of Dr. I. 
 Kracauer in the "Jewish Encyclopedia," viii, p. 15. The first 
 Post-Jude is named in 1722. These Jewish letter-carriers re 
 ceived no salary from the Government, but collected a fee from 
 the recipients of the letters. 
 
 The Talmudic Be-Davvar pKn-"3) was really a Court of 
 Justice (perhaps a Circuit Court). As, however, dawvar meant 
 a despatch-bearer, the phrase Be-Davvar passed over later into 
 the meaning Post-Office. Dawar seems connected with the root 
 dur, "to form a circle" ; the pael form (davvar) would mean 
 " to go around," perhaps to travel with merchandise and letters. 
 
 THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 (pp. 290-300) 
 
 In the twentieth chapter of Proverbs v. 17, we find the maxim: 
 " Bread gained by fraud is sweet to a man, 
 But afterwards his mouth will be filled with gravel." 
 314 
 
NOTES THE SHAPE OF MATZOTH 
 
 The exact point of this comparison was brought home to me 
 when I spent a night at Modin, the ancient home of the Macca 
 bees. Over night I enjoyed the hospitality of a Bedouin. In the 
 morning I was given some native bread for breakfast. I was 
 very hungry, and I took a large and hasty bite at the bread, 
 when lo! my mouth was full of gravel. They make the bread 
 as follows: One person rolls the dough into a thin round cake 
 (resembling a Matzah), while another person places hot cinders 
 on the ground. The cake is put on the cinders and gravel, and 
 an earthenware pot is spread over all, to retain the heat. Hence 
 the bread comes out with fragments of gravel and cinder in it. 
 Woe betide the hasty eater! Compare Lamentations iii. 16, 
 " He hath broken my teeth with gravel stones." This, then, may 
 be the meaning of the proverb cited at the head of this note. 
 Bread hastily snatched, advantages thoughtlessly or fraudulently 
 grasped, may appear sweet in anticipation, but eventually they 
 fill a man s mouth with gravel. 
 
 The quotation from Paulus Aringhus Roma subterranea 
 novissima will be found in vol. ii, p. 533 of the first edition 
 (Rome, 1651). This work, dealing mainly with the Christian 
 sepulchres in Rome, was reprinted in Amsterdam (1659) and 
 Arnheim (1671), and a German translation appeared in Arnheim 
 in 1668. The first volume (pp. 390 et seq.) fully describes the 
 Jewish tombs in Rome, and cites the Judeo-Greek inscriptions. 
 There is much else to interest the Jewish student in these two 
 stately and finely illustrated folios. 
 
 315 
 
INDEX 
 
 Aaron of Bagdad, 132. 
 
 Abarbanel, Isaac, 118. 
 
 Abdemon at Hiram s Court, 302. 
 
 Abner, 71. 
 
 Abraham, the Patriarch, 66, 68, 
 92. 
 
 Absalom, 71. 
 
 Achimaaz, Chronicle of, 127, 132, 
 305- 
 
 Achoth Ketannah, melody, 218. 
 
 Adam and Eve at Hebron, 67, 68, 
 79- 
 
 Akiba, 147, 198. 
 
 Akrish, Isaac, 20. 
 
 Alami, Solomon, 238. 
 
 Alexander the Great s city foun 
 dations, 216. 
 
 Alexandria, 129. 
 
 Alexandrian Songs, 194. 
 
 Alfonso V, n 8. 
 
 Alfred the Great translates Boe- 
 thius, 117. 
 
 Allegorization of Canticles, 217. 
 
 Alliance Israelite, 65, 85, 89, 140. 
 
 Alonzo of Aragon, 109. 
 
 Alphabetum Siracidis, 162, 306. 
 
 Alroy, 131. 
 
 Amarna tablets, 279. 
 Amoraim and their correspond 
 ence, 283. 
 
 Amos, 67. 
 
 Anacreon, 17, 215, 217. 
 
 Anglo-Jewish Association, 85, 88. 
 
 Anka, 307. 
 
 Arabic lore, 18, 48; love songs, 
 184, 232; in the liturgy, 180; 
 poetical forms, 223. 
 
 Architecture, Oriental, 76. 
 
 Aringhus on the form of Eu- 
 charistic loaves, 294; his 
 Roma subterranca, 315. 
 
 Aristotle, 54, 161. 
 
 Arnold, Matthew, 96. 
 
 Arrows as missives, 278. 
 
 Asceticism in Judaism, 259, 313. 
 
 Asia Minor, 147, 153. 
 
 Asmodeus, 22. 
 
 Ass in legend, 40, 54, 132, 168. 
 
 Assouan Papyri, 280. 
 
 Baalshem, Israel, 179. 
 
 Bachurim on their travels, 135, 
 
 146. 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 112. 
 Bacon, Roger, 311. 
 Badge discarded in wayfaring, 126. 
 Bamberger, of Wiirzburg, 289. 
 Barcelona, n, 21, 59, 234. 
 Bar-Cochba, 71, 135, 282. 
 Bari, 133. 
 
 Barton s Psalter, 247, 311. 
 Bath-Kol, 1 80. 
 Battus, in Theocritus, 211. 
 Beaucaire, Bachurim at, 147. 
 Be-Davvar, 275, 314. 
 Bedouins, 77, 80, 87, 315. 
 Beggars, travelling, 143. 
 Benfey, 165. 
 
 Benjamin of Tudela, 131, 147, 305. 
 Benveniste, Sheshet, 60. 
 Benvenuto, 132. 
 Berach Dodi, melody, 218. 
 Berechiah ha-Nakdan, 150, 167. 
 Beriah and Tamar, 235. 
 
 317 
 
INDEX 
 
 Bethlehem, 67, 74, 79, 87. 
 
 Beth-Zacharias, 67. 
 
 Beth-Zur, 67. 
 
 Bidpai, 150. 
 
 Boar in legend, 168. 
 
 Boccaccio, 169. 
 
 Bodley founds his library at Ox 
 
 ford, 1 1 8. 
 Boethius, 117. 
 Bonfires on Purim, 267. 
 " Book of Delight," 9 et seq., 301. 
 " Book of the Pious," 99, 155, 179, 
 
 304- 
 " Book-Lover s Enchiridion," 101, 
 
 113, 304- 
 Bottle-making, 86. 
 Bread of Bedouins, 315. 
 Brentano, 229. 
 Bridge Laws, 151. 
 Buddhist Legends, 150. 
 Burial Laws in Angevin England, 
 
 Cabbala, 252, 259, 312. 
 
 Caleb, 71. 
 
 Cambridge Platonists, 251. 
 
 Captives, ransom of, 140. 
 
 Caro, Joseph, 107. 
 
 Carvajal, Antonio Fernandes, 153. 
 
 Chananiah, 282. 
 
 Chanukah, 281. 
 
 Charizi as writer of rhymed prose, 
 10 ; as traveller, 134; as trans 
 mitter of folk-tales, 150; as 
 author of love poems, 229. 
 
 Charles the Great, 127. 
 
 Chasdai and the Chazars, 284. 
 
 Chaucer, 120. 
 
 Chesterfield, Lord, 101. 
 
 " Choice of Pearls," 18. 
 
 Cicero, 113. 
 
 Clare, John, 121. 
 
 " Clever Girl, The, and the King s 
 Dream," 37. 
 
 Cologne, 128. 
 
 Conversation, 22, 48, 133. 
 
 Costume on journeys, 125. 
 Crawford Haggadah, 298. 
 Crocodile in folk-tales, 165. 
 Cromwell, 154. 
 
 Cudworth at Whitehall Confer 
 ence, 312. 
 
 Daniel Deronda, 172, 244, 310. 
 
 Dante, 235. 
 
 Daphnis, 208. 
 
 David, King, 67, 71, 279. 
 
 Demons, 21, 55 et seq. 
 
 Demosthenes, 104. 
 
 Diogenes, 34, 49. 
 
 " Dishonest Singer, The, and the 
 
 Wedding Robes," 40. 
 Divination, 176. 
 Dog, Tobit s, 19. 
 Dogs in the East, 77. 
 Dove as messenger, 278. 
 Dyers, 73. 
 
 Ecclesiasticus, 199, 307. 
 
 Eclogues, 194. 
 
 Egyptian love songs, 309; parallels 
 
 to Canticles, 207, 215. 
 Elijah, 148. 
 Elijah, Gaon, 139. 
 Eliot, George, 172, 174, 242. 
 Emotionalism of Jews, 272. 
 Enan in the " Book of Delight," 
 
 28. 
 
 Erasmus, 113, 304. 
 Erter, 13. 
 
 Essenes as travellers, 141. 
 Eucharistic loaves, 291. 
 Euphrates, 131. 
 
 Fairs, 144. 
 
 Fasting, 313. 
 
 Flowers in Palestine, 201. 
 
 " Fox and Hole," 52. 
 
 " Fox, The, and the Leopard," 29. 
 
 " Fox and Lion," 30. 
 
 " Fox s Heart, The," 159 et seq. 
 
 Franco, Rachmim Joseph, 82. 
 
 318 
 
INDEX 
 
 Gaeta, 132. 
 
 Galilee, 135. 
 
 Gamaliel, 282. 
 
 Geiger, n, 230. 
 
 Gelasius, pope, 302. 
 
 Geonim, correspondence of, 282. 
 
 Gershom, Rabbenu, 287. 
 
 Ghetto regulations as to residence, 
 
 141. 
 
 Giants, 22, 27, 62, 63. 
 Gil Bias, 21. 
 Gilbert de Porre, 100. 
 Gilead, shepherds of, 200. 
 Glassware at Hebron, 86. 
 Goethe, 229. 
 Graetz, 120, 196, 243, 305, 309. 
 
 Hadrian, 71. 
 
 Uaggadah, illuminated, 297. 
 
 Ha-Gomel, 148. 
 
 Haman, effigy, 266, 313. 
 
 Hafiz, 223-4. 
 
 Haram, enclosure at Hebron, 88. 
 
 Haroun al-Rashid, 139. 
 
 Heart, legends and poems concern 
 ing the, 159 et seq. 
 
 Hebrew as living language, 220, 
 312. 
 
 Hebron, 62 et seq., 148. 
 
 Heine, 160, 240. 
 
 Helen and Shulammith, 214. 
 
 Helena, 127. 
 
 Herod, 65, 89. 
 
 Hillel, 145, 200. 
 
 Hindu saints, 259. 
 
 Hosea, 195. 
 
 Hypatia, 138. 
 
 Fin Chasdai, Abraham, author of 
 
 " Prince and Dervish," 150, 
 
 234- 
 Ibn Baud, Abraham, at Narbonne, 
 
 147- 
 Ibn Ezra, Abraham, as traveller, 
 
 147; his optimism, 149; as 
 
 lyricist, 225. 
 
 Ibn Ezra, Moses, author of love 
 
 songs, 223, 231. 
 Ibn Gabirol, Solomon, as writer of 
 
 metrical epistles, 221; his love 
 
 poems, 229. 
 Ibn Nagrela, Samuel, author of 
 
 the " Stammering Maid," 221. 
 Ibn Tibbon, Judah, on the solace 
 
 of books, 93, 303. 
 Ibn Verga, author of the Shebet 
 
 Jehudah, 159. 
 
 Ibrahim, Pasha of Egypt, 91. 
 Idylls of Theocritus, 202, 308. 
 Iggereth, 286. 
 Immanuel of Rome, 235. 
 Indian folk-lore, 17; saints and 
 
 mystics, 259, 312. 
 Isaac, 91; his marriage, 180. 
 Isaac of Erfurt, 129. 
 Ishbosheth, 71. 
 
 Jaabez Press, 20. 
 
 Jaffa, 87. 
 
 Jain ascetics, 265. 
 
 Jamnia, 95. 
 
 Jebb, Richard, 115. 
 
 Jehudah Halevi, journeys to Pales 
 tine, 134; quoted, 170; his 
 love poems, 223 et seq. 
 
 Jerusalem, 62, 66, 70, 156, 157. 
 
 Jezebel, 279. 
 
 Joab, 71. 
 
 Jose bar Chalafta, 172. 
 
 Josephus, 129, 302. 
 
 Joshua, 277. 
 
 Judah I, 135. 
 
 Judah the Pious, 99, 104. 
 
 Kalilah ve-Dimnah, 9. 
 Kalir, 221, 297. 
 
 Karma (Indian) and Zechuth (He 
 brew), 264. 
 Kevlaar, 160. 
 Kimchi family, n, 278. 
 Kiriath-arba, 71. 
 
 319 
 
INDEX 
 
 Lamb, Charles, 116. 
 
 Lanterns, 76. 
 
 Lazarus, Emma, 230. 
 
 Leisure and learning, 200. 
 
 Leopard cycle in Zabara, 28 et seq. 
 
 Letter-writing, 155, 289. 
 
 Levantine melodies for Piyyutim, 
 218. 
 
 Levantine trade, 153. 
 
 Leviathan in legend, 162 et seq. 
 
 Levy, Amy, 230, 310. 
 
 Libellarius, 280. 
 
 Licenses to travel, 124. 
 
 Lightfoot, 93. 
 
 Lion in folk-tales, 30, 167. 
 
 Lorenz, Bishop, 126. 
 
 Lovelace, 186. 
 
 " Lover s Companion," on Persian 
 Rhetoric, 225. 
 
 Love songs, Hebrew, 184 et seq. 
 
 Low, Leopold, 314. 
 
 Luria, Isaac, 239. 
 
 Luzzatto, Ephraim, author of He 
 brew sonnets, 240. 
 
 Ltizzatto, Moses Chayyim, 239. 
 
 Maccabean sites, 67. 
 
 Macedonian folk-songs, 218, 310. 
 
 Machberoth Immanuel, 235 et seq. 
 
 Machpelah, Cave of, 65, 74, 88, 
 303- 
 
 Maharil, 134. 
 
 Maimon, Solomon, 242, 310. 
 
 Maimonides, in Hebron, 72; his 
 Mislmeh Torah, 107; as trav 
 eller, 134; his criticism of mu 
 sical songs, 237; as writer of 
 Respotisa, 281; his "Guide of 
 the Perplexed," 284; refers 
 to leather scrolls, 286. 
 
 Mamre, 68, 70. 
 
 Mannheim, 152. 
 
 " Man s Love and Woman s," 32. 
 
 Marcolf, 22, 301. 
 
 Marcolis-Mercury, 302. 
 
 Marcolphus, 302. 
 
 Marcus Aurelius, 115. 
 
 Mariners tales, 145. 
 
 Markets in Middle Ages, 126. 
 
 Marriage song, 227. 
 
 " Marriages are made in Heaven," 
 
 172 et seq., 307. 
 Martial s epigrams, 105. 
 Martineau, James, 115. 
 Matzoth, 83, 290, 315. 
 Mauclerc, 25. 
 
 " Maxims of the Philosophers," 18. 
 Medieval wayfaring, 122 et seq. 
 Megillah, reading the, in. 
 Melodies, 218, 238. 
 Memory specific, 297. 
 Mendelssohn, Moses, 179, 310. 
 Messengers, 277. 
 Milton, 104, 117, 186, 219, 247, 
 
 253, 311- 
 Miracles, 132. 
 Mishle Shiialim, 167. 
 Missions, 63, 281. 
 Modin, 77, 315. 
 Monkey in folk-tales, 165, 166. 
 Monogamy, 191. 
 Montaigne, 94, 112, 304. 
 Moore, Thomas, 114. 
 More, Henry, 252, 312. 
 Morolf, 22, 301. 
 Moza Colony, 73. 
 Musicians, 149. 
 Mysticism and love, 217 et seq., 
 
 238-9, 308. 
 
 Nachmanides in Hebron, 72; as let 
 ter-writer, 157, 306. 
 
 Najara, Israel, author of mystical 
 hymns, 238. 
 
 Name, Divine, 131, 160. 
 
 Narbonne, 147. 
 
 Natronai, 131. 
 
 Nehemiah, 71, 280. 
 
 New Moon, 276. 
 
 Nike, 213. 
 
 Nineveh, 125. 
 
 Neubauer, 109. 
 
 320 
 
INDEX 
 
 Noah and the dove, 278. 
 " Nobleman, The, and the Neck 
 lace," 41. 
 
 Oak, Abraham s, 69. 
 
 Obadiah of Bertinoro, 72, 155, 306. 
 
 Ophrah, 228-9. 
 
 Oria, 133. 
 
 Packmen, Jewish, 288. 
 Pal dstinischer Diwan, 308. 
 Palestine, envoys from, 144; vis 
 itors to, 63, 67, 72, 73, 127, 
 
 128, 306. 
 
 Pantschatantra, 165, 177. 
 Paper, 286. 
 Papyrus, 286. 
 Paradise, 67, 79. 
 " Paradise and Hell," 235. 
 " Paralytic s, The, Touchstone of 
 
 Virtue," 47. 
 
 Parodies, Purim, 268, 314. 
 Persia, 134. 
 
 Persian love-poetry, 223. 
 Petachiah, 125, 133. 
 Philo, 131, 251. 
 Philobiblon, 97, 304. 
 Physicians, Satires on, 12. 
 Picard, 291, 293, 294. 
 Plato, 101, 176. 
 Pliny, 159, 160-1. 
 Pools of Solomon, 66. 
 Postal arrangements in Jewry, 
 
 144, 273 et seq. 
 Prague, 125. 
 
 " Prince and Dervish," 234. 
 " Princess, The, and the Rose," 
 
 52. 
 Printing, effect of, on reading, 
 
 1 06. 
 
 Proverb lore, n, 25, 38, 130. 
 " Proverbs of the Wise," 18. 
 Psalter, English Metrical Versions, 
 
 247 et seq. 
 Purim joys, 266. 
 Purim plays, 269. 
 
 Queen Sabbath, 239. 
 
 Rab, 179. 
 
 Raba, 177. 
 
 Rachel, tomb of, 66. 
 
 Radhi, Billah, 223. 
 
 Ramet el-Khalil, 70, 303. 
 
 Ramleh, 128. 
 
 Raphael, 175. 
 
 Reading, 102 et seq. 
 
 Rebekah, 91. 
 
 Refrains in Hebrew lyrics, 204. 
 
 Rehoboam, 71. 
 
 Repertory theory of the structure 
 of Canticles, 202, 219, 308. 
 
 Responsa, how communicated, 283. 
 
 Reubeni, David, 72, 73. 
 
 Reuchlin, 249, 311. 
 
 Rhymed prose, 26. 
 
 Rhythmic movement in study and 
 prayer, 95. 
 
 Richard of Bury, 97, 303. 
 
 Riddles, 23, 25, 220. 
 
 Roman letter-carriers, 274. 
 
 Romanelli, Samuel, 239. 
 
 Rome, 143, 315. 
 
 Rous, Francis, and the Psalter, 
 247, 311. 
 
 Routes followed by Jewish trav 
 ellers and merchants in the 
 Middle Ages, 135, 153. 
 
 Ruth, 195. 
 
 Saadia, 119, 297. 
 
 Sabbatai Zebi, 74, 245. 
 
 Sabbath, 136, 239. 
 
 Sacaea and Purim, 269. 
 
 Sadhu and Yogi, 260. 
 
 Sailors, Jewish, 137. 
 
 Saladin, 128. 
 
 Solomon Maitnon s Lebensge- 
 
 schichte, 243, 310. 
 Sambatyon, river, 145. 
 Sanballat, 281. 
 Satan, 15, 55. 
 Saturn, 22, 301. 
 
 321 
 
INDEX 
 
 Saul, 279. 
 
 Schudt, 314. 
 
 Secular Hebrew poetry, 219. 
 
 Sefer ha-Galui, 119. 
 
 Sefer Rasiel, 296. 
 
 " Sendabar," 18. 
 
 " Separation," 230. 
 
 Sepphoris, 135, 145. 
 
 Seudoth Mitzvah, 148. 
 
 Seven Benedictions at Wedding, 
 
 1 80. 
 
 Shadchan, 134, 144. 
 Shakespeare, 117, 175, 186, 189. 
 Sheba, Queen of, 25. 
 Shebet Jchudah, 160. 
 Shechinah, 117. 
 
 Sheliach Kolel in Algiers, 140. 
 Shepherd life idealized, 196. 
 Shipowners, Jewish, 153. 
 Shulammith, 186. 
 Sicilian rural life, 194; love songs, 
 
 194. 
 
 Signals, 276. 
 " Silversmith, The, who followed 
 
 his Wife s Counsel," 31. 
 Simaitha, 202. 
 Simon the Pious, 128. 
 " Sindbad," 9. 
 Singers, 41. 
 Socrates, 34. 
 Soferim, or Scribes, 280. 
 Solace of books, 93 et seq. 
 Solomon, King, 120, 140; in leg 
 end, 21, 181, 284, 301-2, 307. 
 Solomon-Marcolf legend, 10, 301. 
 Solomon the Levite, Don, 159. 
 " Son, The, and the Slave," 42. 
 Song of Songs, 185 et seq. 
 Spencer, Herbert, 112. 
 Spenser, Edmund, 120, 219. 
 Spring in nature and in poetry, 
 
 186, 194. 
 " Stammering Maid, The," 222, 
 
 310. 
 Steinschneider, n, 20, 105, 162, 
 
 306, 307. 
 
 322 
 
 Stevenson, R. L., 105. 
 
 " Stories of King Solomon," 18. 
 
 Stype, John, 94. 
 
 Synagogues in Hebron, 81. 
 
 Synesius of Cyrene, 136, 305. 
 
 Swift, Jonathan, 105. 
 
 Tabellarius, 274. 
 
 Table Talk, 48; see also Conversa 
 tion. 
 
 Tarn, Jacob, 288. 
 
 Tannery at Hebron, 86. 
 
 Targum on Canticles, 308. 
 
 Taubah, 232. 
 
 Tekoah, 66. 
 
 Temple dues, 131. 
 
 Tennyson s " Maud," 231. 
 
 Threes in proverbial maxims, 50. 
 
 Theocritus and Canticles, 189, 192 
 et seq. 
 
 Thyrsis, 208. 
 
 Tiberias, 129. 
 
 Tigris, 125. 
 
 Tobit, 19, 43, 161, 175, 307. 
 
 Tombs, Oriental veneration of, 66, 
 71, 88, 145, 315. 
 
 Town life in Greek period, 216. 
 
 Traffic on Palestinian roads, 75. 
 
 Travellers, 122 et seq. 
 
 Trier, 128. 
 
 Troubadours, 184. 
 
 Uggoth Matzoth, 292. 
 
 Venice, 152. 
 
 Vintage songs, 188. 
 
 Virtuous Woman of Proverbs, 191. 
 
 Wasf, Syrian marriage ode, 185, 
 
 192, 216. 
 " Washerwoman, The, who did the 
 
 Devil s Work," 57. 
 Wayfarers, prayer for, 130; prayers 
 
 of, US- 
 Weavers, 73. 
 Wedding processions, 149, 
 
INDEX 
 
 Western influences on Orient, 63. 
 
 Wetzstein and the wasf, 308. 
 
 " Widow, The, and her Husband s 
 
 Corpse," 35. 
 
 "Widow s Vow, The," 15. 
 Wine-making, 84. 
 Wisdom of Solomon, 121, 304. 
 " Women s Contentions," 15. 
 Women, treatment of, in medieval 
 
 literature, 14, 16, 34, 234, 
 
 236, 239. 
 Women pilgrims, 124-5, I2 7 
 
 "Woodcutter, The, and the 
 
 Woman," 31. 
 Writing materials, 285. 
 
 Yalkut, 167; Reubeni, 178. 
 Yiddish, 255, 312. 
 
 Zabara, Joseph, 9 et seq., 234, 
 
 301. 
 
 Zebi Hirsch, 165. 
 Zephyrinus, Pope, 291. 
 Zoheir, 224. 
 
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