when, in 1834, a vacancy in the Court of Session invited him to his
due promotion, he gladly accepted the dignified and honourable office
so nobly earned by his labours and services. He was in his
sixty-second year at the time of his appointment, and he continued for
nearly sixteen years the chief ornament of the Court in which he sat.
In former days the judgment-seats in Scotland had not been unused to
the graces of literature: but in Jeffrey these were combined with an
acute and profound knowledge of law less usual in that connection; and
also with such a charm of demeanour, such a play of fancy and wit
sobered to the kindliest courtesies, such clear sagacity, perfect
freedom from bias, consideration for all differences of opinion; and
integrity, independence, and broad comprehensiveness of view in
maintaining his own; that there has never been but one feeling as to
his judicial career. Universal veneration and respect attended it. The
speculative studies of his youth had done much to soften all the
asperities of his varied and vigorous life, and now, at its close,
they gave to his judgments a large reflectiveness of tone, a moral
beauty of feeling, and a philosophy of charity and good taste, which
have left to his successors in that Court of Session no nobler models
for imitation and example. Impatience of dulness _would_ break from
him, now and then; and the still busy activity of his mind might be
seen as he rose often suddenly from his seat, and paced up and down
before it; but in his charges or decisions nothing of this feeling was
perceptible, except that lightness and grace of expression in which
his youth seemed to linger to the last, and a quick sensibility to
emotion and enjoyment which half concealed the ravages of time.
If such was the public estimation of this great and amiable man, to
the very termination of his useful life, what language should describe
the charm of his influence in his private and domestic circle? The
affectionate pride with which every citizen of Edinburgh regarded him
rose here to a kind of idolatry. For here the whole man was known—his
kind heart, his open hand, his genial talk, his ready sympathy, his
generous encouragement and assistance to all that needed it. The first
passion of his life was its last, and never was the love of literature
so bright within him as at the brink of the grave. What dims and
deadens the impressibility of most men, had rendered his not only more
acute and fresh, but more tributary to calm satisfaction, and pure
enjoyment. He did not live merely in the past, as age is wont to do,
but drew delight from every present manifestation of worth or genius,
from whatever quarter it addressed him. His vivid pleasure where his
interest was awakened, his alacrity and eagerness of appreciation, the
fervour of his encouragement and praise, have animated the hopes and
relieved the toil alike of the successful and the unsuccessful, who
cannot hope, through whatever chequered future may await them, to find
a more generous critic, a more profound adviser, a more indulgent
friend.
The present year opened upon Francis Jeffrey with all hopeful promise.
He had mastered a severe illness, and resumed his duties with his
accustomed cheerfulness; private circumstances had more than
ordinarily interested him in his old Review; and the memory of past
friends, giving yet greater strength to the affection that surrounded
him, was busy at his heart. ‘God bless you!’ he wrote to Sydney
Smith’s widow on the night of the 18th of January; ‘I am very old, and
have many infirmities; but I am tenacious of old friendships, and find
much of my present enjoyments in the recollections of the past.’ He
sat in Court the next day, and on the Monday and Tuesday of the
following week, with his faculties and attention unimpaired. On the
Wednesday he had a slight attack of bronchitis; on Friday, symptoms of
danger appeared; and on Saturday he died, peacefully and without pain.
Few men had completed with such consummate success the work appointed
them in this world; few men had passed away to a better with more
assured hopes of their reward. The recollection of his virtues
sanctifies his fame; and his genius will never cease to awaken the
gratitude, respect, and pride of his countrymen.
HAIL AND FAREWELL!
THE YOUNG JEW OF TUNIS.
People are glad to be assured that an interesting story is true. The
following history was communicated to the writer by a friend, residing
in the East, who had it from the French Consul himself. It reminds one
of the Arabian Nights.
In the year 1836, a Jewish family residing in Algiers were plunged in
the greatest distress by the death of the father. A son, two
daughters, and a mother were by this calamity left almost destitute.
After the funeral, the son, whose name was Ibrahim, sold what little
property there was to realise and gave it to his mother and sisters;
after which, commending them to the charity of a distant relative, he
left Algiers and departed for Tunis, hoping that if he did not find
his fortune, he would at least make a livelihood there.
He presented himself to the French Consul with his papers, and
requested a license as a donkey-driver. This was granted, and Ibrahim
entered the service of a man who let out asses, both for carrying
water and for hire.
Ibrahim was extremely handsome and very graceful in his demeanour;
but, being so poor, his clothes were too ragged for him to be employed
on anything but drudgery that was out of sight. He used to be sent
with water-skins to the meanest parts of the town.
One day, as he was driving his ass laden with water up a narrow
street, he met a cavalcade of women riding (as usual in that country)
upon donkeys covered with sumptuous housings. He drew on one side to
allow them to pass by, but a string of camels coming up at the same
instant, there ensued some confusion. The veil of one of the women
became slightly deranged, and Ibrahim caught sight of a lovely
countenance.
He contrived to ascertain who the lady was and where she lived. She
was Rebecca, the only daughter of a wealthy Jew.
From this time, Ibrahim had but one thought; that of becoming rich
enough to demand Rebecca in marriage. He had already saved up a few
pieces of money; with these he bought himself better clothes, and he
was now sometimes sent to conduct the donkeys hired out for riding.
It so chanced, that one of his first expeditions was to take Rebecca
and her attendants to a mercer’s shop. Either from accident or
coquetry, Rebecca’s veil became again deranged, and again Ibrahim
beheld the heavenly face beneath it. Ibrahim’s appearance, and his
look of burning passionate love, did not displease the young Jewess.
He frequently attended her on her excursions, and he was often
permitted to see beneath the veil.
Ibrahim deprived himself almost of the necessaries of life, and at
length saved enough money to purchase an ass of his own. By degrees he
was able to buy more, and became a master employing boys under him.
When he thought himself sufficiently well off in the world, he
presented himself before the family of Rebecca, and demanded her in
marriage; but they did not consider his prospects brilliant, and
rejected his proposals with contempt. Rebecca, however, sent her old
nurse to him (just as a lady in the ‘Arabian Nights’ might have sent a
similar messenger) to let him know that the family contempt was not
shared by her.
Ibrahim was more determined than ever to obtain her. He went to a
magician, who bade him return to Algiers, and declared that if he
accepted the _first_ offer of any kind which he should receive after
entering the city, he would become rich and obtain the desire of his
heart.
Ibrahim sold his asses and departed for Algiers. He walked up and down
the streets till nightfall, in expectation of the mysterious offer
which had been foretold—but no one came.
He had, however, been observed by a rich widow, somewhat advanced in
years, a Frenchwoman and the widow of an officer of engineers. She
dispatched an attendant to discover who he was and where he lived, and
the next day sent for him to her house. His graceful address
fascinated her even more than his good looks, and she made him
overtures of marriage: offering at the same time to settle upon him a
handsome portion of her wealth.
This was not precisely the mode in which Ibrahim had intended to make
his fortune; but, he recollected the prediction of the magician, and
accepted the proposal.
They were married, and for twelve months Ibrahim lived with his wife
in great splendour and apparent happiness. At the end of that time he
professed to be called to Tunis by indispensable business, which would
require his presence for some time. His wife made no opposition,
though she was sorry to lose him, and wished to accompany him; but
that he prohibited, and departed alone: taking with him a good supply
of money.
He again presented himself before the French Consul at Tunis, who was
surprised at the change in his appearance. His vest of flowered silk,
brocaded with gold, was girded round the waist by a Barbary sash of
the richest silk; his ample trowsers of fine cloth were met by red
morocco boots; a Cashmere shawl of the most radiant colours was
twisted round his head; his beard, carefully trimmed, fell half-way
down his breast; a jewelled dagger hung at his girdle; and an ample
Bournooz worn over all, gave an additional grace to his appearance,
while it served to conceal his rich attire, which far exceeded the
license of the sad-coloured garments prescribed by law to the Jews.
He lost no time in repairing to the house of Rebecca. She was still
unmarried, and again he made his proposals; this time it was with more
success. He had all the appearance of a man of high consideration; and
the riches which he half-negligently displayed, took their due effect.
He had enjoyed a good character when he lived at Tunis before, and
they took it for granted that he had done nothing to forfeit it. They
asked no questions how his riches had been obtained, but gave him
Rebecca in marriage.
At the end of six months, the French Consul received inquiries from
Algiers about Ibrahim; his wife, it was said, had become alarmed at
his prolonged absence.
The Consul sent for Ibrahim, and told him what he had heard. Ibrahim
at first appeared disturbed and afterwards indignant. He denied in the
strongest terms that he had any other wife than Rebecca, but owned
that the woman in question had fallen in love with him. He also denied
that he had given her any sort of legal claim upon him. The French
Consul was perplexed; Ibrahim’s papers were all regular, he had always
led an exemplary life in Tunis, he denied his marriage, and there was
no proof of it.
Had Ibrahim retained the smallest presence of mind, no harm could have
befallen him. In that land of polygamy, his two wives (even though one
were European) would have caused little scandal. His domestic position
was somewhat complicated but by no means desperate. On departing from
the Consul’s house, however, he would seem to have become possessed by
a strange panic not to be explained by any rules of logic, and to have
gone mad straightway. His one idea was that he was hurried on by
destiny to—murder Rebecca!
This miserable wretch, possessed by the fixed idea of destroying
Rebecca, made deliberate preparations for carrying it into effect. But
with the strange fanaticism and superstition which formed a main part
of his character, and which forms a part of many such characters in
those countries, he determined to give her a chance for her life; for,
he seems to have thought in some confused, wild, mad, vain way, that
it might still be the will of Providence that she should live.
He concerted measures with the captain of a Greek vessel, whom he
induced by heavy bribes to enter into his views. He gave it out that
he was going to Algiers, to put an end to the ridiculous report which
had been raised, and to destroy the claim which had been set up by his
pretended wife.
He embarked with Rebecca, without any attendants, on board the Greek
vessel, which was bound for Algiers. Rebecca was taken at once into
the cabin, where her curiosity was excited by a strange-looking black
box which stood at one end of it. The black box was high and square,
and large enough to contain a person sitting upright. The lid was
thrown back; and she saw that the box was lined with thick cotton
cloth, and contained a small brass pitcher full of water and a loaf of
bread. Whilst she was examining these things, Ibrahim and the Captain
entered; they neither of them spoke one word; but, coming behind her,
Ibrahim placed his hand over her mouth, and muffling her head in her
veil, lifted her into the box with the assistance of the captain, and
shut down the lid, which they securely fastened. They then carried the
box between them upon deck, and lowered it over the side of the
vessel. The box had holes bored in the lid; it was very strong; and so
built as to float like a boat.
The Greek vessel continued her course towards Algiers. Either the crew
had really not noticed the strange proceedings of Ibrahim and the
Captain, or (which is more probable) they were paid to be silent. It
is certain that they did not attempt to interfere.
The next morning, as a French steamer, the Panama, was bearing towards
Tunis, something like the hull of a small vessel was seen drifting
about directly in their course. They picked it up, as it floated
athwart the steamer’s bow; and were horrified to hear feeble cries
proceeding from the interior. Hastily breaking it open, they found the
unhappy Rebecca nearly dead with fright and exhaustion. When she was
sufficiently recovered to speak, she told the captain how she had come
into that strange condition, and he made all speed on to Tunis.
The French Consul immediately dispatched a swift sailing steamer to
Algiers with Rebecca and her nearest friends on board, bearing a
dispatch to the governor, containing a hasty account of all these
things. The steamer arrived first. When the Greek vessel entered the
port, Ibrahim and the Captain were ordered to follow the officer on
guard, and in a few moments Ibrahim stood face to face with his
victim. To render the complication more complete, the French wife
hearing that a steamer from Tunis had arrived with dispatches, went
down to the governor’s house to make inquiries after her husband.
At first, Ibrahim nearly fainted; but he soon regained his insane
self, and boldly confessed his crime. Addressing himself to Rebecca,
he said:
‘I confided thee to the sea, for I thought it might be the will of
Providence to save thee! If thou hadst died, it would have been
Providence that decreed thy fate, but thou art saved, and I am
destroyed.’
Both the wives wept bitterly. Their natural jealousy of each other was
merged into the desire to save the fanatic from the consequence of his
madness. Rebecca attempted to deny her former statement, and used
great intercession with her relatives to forego their vengeance. The
Frenchwoman made interest with the authorities too, but it was all,
happily, in vain. The friends of Rebecca were implacable and insisted
on justice.
Ibrahim works now in the gallies at Toulon. The captain is under
punishment also. The magician, it is to be feared, is practising his
old trade.
This is, perhaps, as strange an instance as there is on record, of an
audacious and besotted transference of every responsibility to
Providence. As though Providence had left man to work out nothing for
himself! It is probable that this selfish monomaniac made the same
pretext to his mind for basely marrying the widow, whom he intended to
desert. There is no kind of impiety so monstrous as this; and yet
there is, perhaps, none encountered so frequently, in one phase or
other, in many aspects of life.
* * * * *
_To be Published Monthly, with the Magazines,
Price 2d., or Stamped, 3d.,_
THE HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE
OF
CURRENT EVENTS.
CONDUCTED
BY CHARLES DICKENS.
BEING
A Monthly Supplement to ‘HOUSEHOLD WORDS.’
Published at the Office, No. 16, Wellington Street North, Strand.
Printed by BRADBURY & EVANS, Whitefriars, London.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
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● Renumbered footnotes.
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● The caret (^) serves as a superscript indicator, applicable to
individual characters (like 2^d) and even entire phrases (like
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