The Danes Sketched by Themselves Volume Iii Part 11

On hearing these words, old Philip Moses arose; he could no longer endure to listen to his people humbling themselves, as he thought, so basely. He tore his clothes, and anathematized the tongue that spoke last. He then tried, with all the eloquence of which he was master, to touch the hearts and rouse the spirits of those who were the best among the a.s.sembly, by setting forth to them the misery and degradation which their own selfishness and cupidity had brought upon them. He characterized their present persecution as a just punishment from Jehovah for their degeneracy, and their being so absorbed in the pursuit of money. He condemned their indifference to the faith and the customs of their forefathers; their neglect of the Sabbath, and of its holy rites; their shaving off their beards, and their being ashamed to be known to be what they were. He inveighed against their connection with Christians, and more especially their marriages with them, by which two of his own sons had disgraced him. And he denounced their excessive keenness in the pursuit of gold, as likely to be ruinous to them, as being certain to have an injurious effect on their settling happily in any and every country in the world.

But this was too much for his fellow Jews to harken to in silence. They all attacked him vehemently, calling him a crazy old traitor, who only wished their destruction. Loudly, however, as swelled their chorus of abuse, still more loudly arose the voice of the old man, as he, in the words of the prophet Jeremiah, reproved them: 'O Israel! thine own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy backslidings shall reprove thee.

I had planted thee a n.o.ble vine, wholly a right seed; how then art thou turned into the degenerate plant of a strange vine unto me? For though thou wash thee with nitre, and take thee much soap, yet thine iniquity is marked before me, saith the Lord G.o.d. Your sons have withholden good things from me. For among my people are found wicked men; they lay wait as he that setteth snares; they set a trap, they catch men. As a cage is full of birds, so are their houses full of deceit, therefore they are become great and waxen rich. They are waxen fat--they shine; yea, they overpa.s.s the deeds of the wicked. They judge not the cause of the fatherless, yet they prosper. Shall I not visit for these things? saith the Lord. Shall not my soul be avenged on such a nation as this? Go ye upon her walls and destroy; but make not a full end: take away her battlements, for they are not the Lord's!'

Scarcely had he uttered these last words than a shower of stones, hurled against the closed window-shutters, demolished them, and dashed in, while this new attack was followed by shouts of triumph and derisive laughter from the streets.

'Away with him--away with the old prophet!' cried several of the Jews.

'His imprecations are bringing fresh evil and persecution upon us.'

'This is not a time to be preaching all that old twaddle to us about our sins,' said his son, the rich Samuel. 'I will not listen to another word; and if you expect to remain longer in my house, you must keep your tongue to yourself, I can tell you. It would be more to the purpose if you went to your room, and shaved off that beard of yours, that you might look like other men. We must howl with the wolves we are among, and if the mob were to catch a glimpse of your long beard, which is just like that of an old he-goat, and your masquerade garb, they would pull the house down about our ears.'

'Oh, grandfather, grandfather!' exclaimed the youngest of his grandchildren, starting away from him, 'how your eyes are blazing! You are not going to hurt my father?'

'For _your_ sakes, I will not curse him,' said the old man, in a low, tremulous voice; 'but accursed be the spirit which influences him, and my unfortunate, perverted people! I shall shake the dust from my feet at the threshold of your door, my son, and never more shall you behold my countenance in this world; but, in your last moments, you will remember _this_ hour. I will wander defenceless among our enemies; I will bare this grey head to their insults, stand amidst their showers of stones, and peradventure be torn asunder by their violent hands, before my own child shall pluck out the beard from my aged cheeks, or turn me out of his house as a beggar.'

'Stay!--are you mad?' cried Samuel; 'you will not pa.s.s alive through that mob outside. Hold him, some one!' he exclaimed to those around.

'He is deranged, as you see, and is going into his dotage. I should be sorry if anything were to happen to him, or he were to meet with any injury.'

But old Philip Moses went away, like Lot, from the doomed Sodom, and never once looked back. No one attempted to detain him, for his denunciations, and his terrible look, had frightened them all. With his snow-white locks uncovered, and in his torn dark silk _talar_, alone, and without his staff, he went forth, and shook the dust from his feet as he stepped from the door.

When the Hamburg populace perceived him, a group of children began to abuse him, but no one took up the cry, and not a hand was lifted against the silent, venerable-looking old man.

'Let him go in peace!' said one to the other; 'it is old Philip Moses.

He is a good man; it would be a sin to hurt _him_, or to scoff at him.'

'But if we had his son Samuel in our clutches,' said others, 'he should not get off so easily; he is the greatest bloodsucker among them all!'

II.

It was late at night--the tumult in the streets had ceased. No more carriages rolled along from the theatre, or from parties at the houses of the rich Hamburg merchants. The promenade on the 'Jungfernstieg' had been over long before, and the pavilions were locked up. Lights glimmered faintly from the upper windows of the large hotels, and only here and there a solitary reveller was to be seen, humming an air, as he was wending his way homewards from the 'Salon d'Apollon,' or was stopped by some straggling night-wanderer of the female s.e.x. The moon was shining calmly on the Alster, and the watchman had just called the hour by St. Michael's clock; but two strange-looking figures still walked up and down the 'Jungfernstieg,' and seemed to have no thought of home, though the sharp wind scattered the leaves of the trees around them, and the flitting clouds often obscured the moon on that cold September night. A dark-haired young girl walked, shivering with cold, alongside of an old Jew, and seemed to be speaking words of comfort to him, in a low, sweet voice; and that Jew was the aged Philip Moses!

'You are freezing, my child,' said the old man, as he threw the skirt of his torn talar around her shoulders. 'Let me take you back to the house of your mother's brother; but _I_ will not cross his threshold again. I made that vow the day he was seduced into wedding the artful Christian girl. On this day has my third son closed his door against me, and I have no more daughters on this earth. But yes, I have _you_ still--you, the daughter of my dear and excellent Rachel!

Come, let me take you home. It is hard enough upon you to be an orphan--fatherless and motherless--and a servant to your Christian aunt; you shall not become houseless for my sake. Poor Benjamina!' he exclaimed, as a bright beam from the moon, that was unclouded for a minute, enabled him to see her lovely youthful face distinctly, and to observe how tears were gathering in her long dark eyelashes. 'Poor Benjamina! you are indeed kind to care so much for your rough old grandfather, and not to be afraid to come and wander about with him, in our day of persecution, when he was thrust out alone among our foes!'

'Ah, dear, good grandfather!' replied Benjamina, 'how could my uncle Samuel behave so ill to you! But all my uncles are not so bad as he is.

I am tolerably comfortable at uncle Daniel's every other week, and they are kind to me now at uncle Isaac's, since I have grown stronger, and am able to a.s.sist my aunt in the kitchen. Do go with me to one of them.

Their wives and new connections do not hate us as the other Christians do; and you must go somewhere. Since uncle Samuel has become so rich, he disdains all his poorer relations, and will not a.s.sociate with them.

Why did you choose to live with him, rather than with either of your other sons? I am sure neither of them could have found it in his heart to have treated you as Samuel has done to-day. You never took a vow not to enter Isaac's house, therefore do go with me to it. I shall reside there with you, and attend upon you: and the pretty children will become fond of you. They can learn from you the history of Joseph and his brethren, and hear about little Benjamin, my namesake. You can teach them as you taught me at my poor mother's, when I was a little girl. Come, dear grandfather, come!--before day dawn, and our persecutors awake. In these times of tribulation we must cherish each other--we unfortunate and persecuted fugitives.'

'It is five years since I have entered my son Isaac's house,' said the old man, slowly. 'How many children has he now?'

'Ah, you do not know that, dear grandfather, and yet he is your own son! His fifth boy is an infant in its cradle.'

'Is his Christian wife kind to him? and does she not turn his feeble spirit from Jehovah, and the faith and the customs of our forefathers?

I have not seen him lately at the synagogue, but he never misses going to the Exchange.'

'Only come with me to him, grandfather, and you will see that he is better than Samuel, though he may not go to the synagogue, and only puts the shop-door on the latch on Sat.u.r.day, instead of shutting it up.

You will like his nice little boys, though my aunt rather spoils the eldest. They have all light hair and pretty blue eyes, like their mother. Many Christians visit the house; and the good Mr. Veit, who is a painter, sometimes teaches me to draw when I am there. You do not hate _all_ Christians, do you, grandfather, because some of them treat us cruelly? You do not condemn them all so much as these--our uncharitable persecutors?'

'No, my child,' replied the old man. 'I admit the general philanthropy of the Christians, which they believe they learned from their wise but unfortunate prophet; though, in their present conduct towards us, they give no proof of it. Yet far be it from me to blame them for this. Our law tells us to make our own hearts clean before we judge others; that so we may find forgiveness in the day of atonement. But stay not out here longer, so late, my daughter; your good name may be made the prey of the tongue of the backbiter and the slanderer, although it is only in a work of mercy and of love in which you are engaged, and for which the Lord G.o.d of Sabaoth will bless you in future days. Leave me to wander out into the solitary paths! The Lord can send to me--even to me--a raven in the desert, if he think fit. My tent is now the great Temple of the Lord, where the sun and the moon are lights in the high altar, and the four corners of the earth are the pillars of the tabernacle. Hark! from thence shall it seem to me that His mighty cherubs are singing praises to His name, when the wild storms of nature are playing around my head. Let me go, my child, and weep not because I am a lonely wanderer! I would rather roam, houseless, through the world, than seek a refuge under the roof where I am an unwelcome intruder. I would rather be stoned by the Christians than be disdained as a pauper by my own kindred--my own children--and perhaps hear that I am so, when the infirmities of age compel me to listen in silence.'

'Well, then, so be it, dear grandfather, and I will remain with you.

The Christians may stone me in your arms if they will.'

The old man was silent for a time, and he appeared to be fighting a hard battle in his heart.

'Come then, my child,' said he at length, seizing Benjamina by the hand, 'for your sake will I endure disgrace, and ask shelter from a son, who cared more for a strange woman than for his father's blessing.'

They then proceeded in silence to the 'Hopfenmarkt,' and rang at the clothier Isaac's door.

'Is that any of our people?' whispered an anxious voice from a window.

Philip Moses answered in Hebrew, and a little while after the outer door was opened.

Isaac received his deserted old father, who had thus taken refuge with him, with sincere pleasure; yet this pleasure was damped by the perplexed and uneasy feelings which came over him when he thought of the daily reproaches which he foresaw he would have to encounter, and the many disturbances in his domestic life which he feared the unbending rabbi would occasion. But their common grievances and danger drew their hearts together. Though Isaac's house was, at present, exempt from all damage (since, through his marriage with a Christian, and his frequent intercourse with Christians, he seemed almost separated from his own people), he lived still in constant terror, on account of the inimical disposition evinced towards the Jews, which had now actually broken out in open persecution of them; and he sought in vain to conceal from those with whom he a.s.sociated the interest he secretly took in the fate of his unhappy nation.

He was extremely indignant when he heard how his rich brother, Samuel, had behaved to the old man: and he begged his father to forget all the past, and make himself at home in his house. But he resolved, at the same time, not to permit his domestic peace to be disturbed, or the habits of his daily life to be disarranged, by the old man's prejudices--such at least as could not be borne with easily, and might not give cause of complaint. 'He must accommodate himself, as my guest, to the ways of the house,' thought he to himself. 'He will be accustomed to them in time, and there would be no use in beginning as we could not go on.'

'Your brother Samuel has not honoured his father, and he cannot succeed in worldly matters,' said Philip Moses, as he seemed endeavouring to read in the countenance of his son what was pa.s.sing in his mind. 'But may the Almighty give him, and all our people, grace to repent, and let not His angry countenance be turned upon us to our ruin! _My_ days will not be many,' he added, earnestly; 'but had it not been for my faithfully attached Benjamina's sake, I would rather have gone forth to wander over the wide world than have exposed your heart, my son, to a trial which, I fear, is beyond your strength.'

Isaac's wife was quite out of humour when Benjamina went to her bedroom to tell her what had taken place.

'It will never answer,' said she, 'to have that old instigator of strife here in our house. He hates me already, because I am not one of your nation. It was on my account that he has never hitherto chosen to put his foot within our doors.'

'No, my grandfather does not hate the Christians,' replied Benjamina, cheerfully. 'If he lives here, he will bring good luck and a blessing to the house. Dearest aunt, may I not get the little blue chamber ready for him? I did not dare to go near him when he was with my uncle Samuel, and yet he was so kind to me when I was a child.'

'Well, I suppose I can't help his staying, for the present at least,'

replied the aunt, peevishly, 'so you can put the blue chamber in decent order for him, Benjamina. But if you make too much fuss about him, or give me any additional trouble with this new pest, I will send you back to Daniel. You may stay for the present; but keep him as much as possible away from the children and the rest of us. We shall have quite annoyance enough with him at the dinner-table.'

'Poor, poor grandfather!' sighed Benjamina, as weeping silently she left her unkind aunt, who had often before spoken harshly to her, but had never wounded her feelings so deeply as now.

Isaac had afterwards an unpleasant matrimonial scene, and a sharp battle of words with his wife, in reference to the old man, to whom he could not deny an asylum in his house, however many scruples he himself had as to keeping him.

III.

The next day was Sat.u.r.day. Philip Moses kept the sabbath in his own room, and prayed for his unhappy people; but he often started, and a look of pain seemed to contract his features when he overheard his son talking loudly to his customers in the shop, and rattling the money in the till; while his wife, in the other apartments, was engaged in various household duties, in all of which Benjamina was obliged to a.s.sist her. He frequently heard her aunt scolding her, and she had scarcely been able to s.n.a.t.c.h more than a minute to carry her grandfather's breakfast to him, and affectionately to bid him good morning. On that short visit he perceived that she had been weeping; but he would not deprive her of the comfort of fancying she had concealed her tears from him, by letting her know that he had observed them.

Philip Moses was lying with his old head literally bowed into the dust, and was engaged in prayer, when Benjamina returned and called him to dinner. His daughter-in-law had slightly hoped he would be able to put up with such accommodation as their house afforded, but she was neither able nor willing to conceal her ill-humour; and the old man sat silently at table without tasting any of the dishes placed on it, for these consisted of the very things that the Mosaic law particularly forbade. His son did not seem to notice all this; but poor Benjamina did, and fasted also, though she was very hungry. The tumult of the preceding night was talked of, and it was told that there had not been one window left unbroken in Samuel's residence, nor in many of the handsomest houses belonging to the Jews; also, that a couple of Jew old-clothesmen, who were perambulating the streets, had been very ill-used by the mob.

'Why do the rich make so much useless display?' said Isaac, 'and why do the poor seek, by their needless oddity, to draw public observation upon themselves?'

'Have you become a Christian, my son?' demanded the old man; 'or perhaps this is not the Sabbath-day?'

'I adhere to the doctrines of my forefathers,' replied his son, 'in what I consider to be of consequence, and in what is applicable to the age in which we live, and to the ideas of what is holy and unholy that my reason and my senses can acknowledge. I wish my father would do the same, and not be scandalized at what is really quite innocent.'

'My father-in-law must try to put up with our fare,' said the mistress of the house, handing him, with thoughtless indifference, a plate of roast pork. 'Our house is quite in disorder to-day,' she added, by way of apology, when he silently handed her back the plate, 'and I really did not bethink me of our guest; but I shall have something else another time, when I am accustomed to remember what he will not eat.'