EL KÛDS
Jerusalem—that much-coveted city of quarrels—was still under Moslem
rule. The Jews—to whom it was as the golden heart of their country—had
done all in their power to possess it, but the Sultan was obdurate, and
had only bartered Palestine on the condition that El Kûds—the
Holy—should be extra-territorialised. So the rivalry between the Greeks,
Latins, Protestants, Armenians, Copts and Mohammedans continued. But the
Jews stood on a firmer footing than heretofore; and if secretly they
looked upon the _Harâm_ with covetous eyes, seeing behind the Mosque of
Omar the dome of their own Temple, they kept their secret well. The
Zionist leaders had impressed upon their minds the need of maintaining
friendly relations with their rivals; and they were urged to treat the
Christian sacred places with due respect, in order to show that they
were as capable as the Mohammedans of guarding them intact, if ever
opportunity should occur. That the opportunity would occur some day, was
to them a foregone conclusion; for however long and weary the waiting,
they were certain that Jerusalem would eventually be theirs.
Dr. Engelmacher’s house was situated in the south-eastern suburb of the
town, adjoining the Jewish quarter. Montella and his wife and child—who
were to be the doctor’s guests—arrived late on a Friday afternoon, just
before the falling of the Sabbath. They had travelled from Haifa to
Jaffa by boat, and then on to Jerusalem by train, for the new railway
between the two capitals was not yet completed. Engelmacher received
them with a breezy cordiality which immediately put them at their ease;
and his wife, a typical German frau, busied herself greatly concerning
their comfort. Little Julian, who had come in the care of the faithful
Anne, was installed in a pretty room transformed into a nursery for the
occasion. Mrs. Engelmacher had no children of her own, her only little
one having died in infancy. Perhaps that was why she had begged Lady
Patricia to bring hers: she longed for the sound of a childish voice.
To the true Jew there is no happier hour than that of a calm Sabbath
eve. Having rid himself of the turmoil of his daily labour, he dons his
best garb to meet the Bride of the Sabbath. The Friday night supper is
in itself an institution; and the ceremonial candles, the sweet wine and
cloth-covered bread, serve as links to unite him to his brethren
throughout the world. So felt Dr. Engelmacher, as with his velvet cap
well set on his head, he intoned the Hebrew grace. To him the Sabbath
had but one disadvantage: he could not smoke, for as to touch fire is
forbidden, his well-beloved briar had to be laid aside until on the
following evening three stars appeared in the sky. But he made the
sacrifice cheerfully, even if he sometimes grumbled about it to his
wife. His motto with regard to his religion was “_Noblesse oblige._” The
more was it to be appreciated in that it cost something to be a Jew.
“Your wife is a picture!” he exclaimed to his guest, when a little while
later Patricia, on the plea of fatigue, excused herself and retired to
rest. “Himmel! what eyes! One can look right through them to her soul.
But she is a thorough Englishwoman. How likes she the foreign life?”
“Very well, I think,” Montella replied, with a contented smile. “She
would make herself happy anywhere with me; she is only unhappy when she
thinks she disappoints me in not doing the proper thing in accordance
with Jewish law.”
“Then she is conscientious?”
“Yes, very; it is her nature. She is the sort of girl who would be happy
in any country and under any conditions so long as she thought she was
doing the right thing. She is the dearest little woman in the world!”
“Little, do you call her?” said Mrs. Engelmacher, who was short and
plump. “_Um Gotteswillen_, if she is little, I must be a pigmy. She is
tall and graceful, such as one reads of. If I were a man I should be
proud of such a wife—eh, Max?”
“Ach well, perhaps.” The good doctor pinched her cheek affectionately,
knowing what she desired. “For myself I prefer a small wife, because she
takes up less room in a house, and you can put her in your pocket if
there is nowhere else for her to go. Besides, I like to see a dear
Yiddishë _ponim_[11] at my side. It would not do for us all to fall in
love with fair and beautiful Christians. Where would Judaism be?”
Footnote 11:
Countenance.
He laughed heartily, and so did Montella, who was too sensible to take
offence. And so the evening passed, enlivened by anecdotes and jokes,
until Mrs. Engelmacher also said good-night. Left to themselves, the two
men entered upon a more serious conversation, for in connection with the
Rabbinical faction there was much to be discussed. Ben Yetzel had openly
declared antagonism towards any kind of reform, and in doing so had
practically thrown down the glove.
“He came back from Haifa with his hands raised in holy horror,”
Engelmacher said, in his short, dry accents. “According to him the city
is a veritable hot-bed of heresy. He saw with his very own eyes a Jewish
man carrying a walking-stick on the Sabbath; and the strange thing about
it was that the heavens did not fall!”
“Ridiculous!” exclaimed the young man, with contempt. “It is a wonder he
will consent to carry his clothes.”
“Well, you know he wears his pocket-handkerchief tied round his knee as
a garter because it would be a sin to carry it in his pocket on the
Sabbath. But there is worse to follow. He went to your house to dinner
in spite of his misgiving as to the orthodoxy of your menage, and your
wife actually offered him milk in his coffee thirty minutes after he had
partaken of meat! After that he has given you all up as hopeless; and
really, my dear Montella, I think you might have exercised greater
care!”
“My wife offered him milk in his coffee!” repeated Lionel incredulously.
“I can scarcely believe it. My mother was in the room, and would surely
have noticed it; she is quite as particular in that way as Ben Yetzel
himself.”
“But how is it there was milk on the tray at all so soon after dinner?”
“Because my wife and Miss Emanuel seldom eat meat. They find that light
food agrees with them better in this climate. Of course, Patricia, who
finds it difficult to realise the importance of the dietary laws,
_might_ unthinkingly have passed him the milk. It is a great pity,
especially as Ben Yetzel is such a fanatic. But I dare not say anything
to her about it; she would be very grieved at her mistake.”
“Oh, it isn’t worth while to rake up the matter now,” said the doctor,
relapsing into his native tongue. “The question is, are we to bow down
to Ben Yetzel or not? Years ago, when I was threshing out the Zionist
question, I thought what a glorious thing national Judaism would be, but
I left the narrowness of Rabbinical Judaism quite out of account. In
this new State, it seems to me, as to my contemporaries, that we should
let every man find salvation in his own particular way.[12] How can we,
who have suffered so much on account of religious persecution, afford to
deny toleration to our own brethren? Let every man do that which seems
right according to his own conscience, thereby abolishing the secret
hypocrisy which is so detestable to an honest soul. To enforce orthodoxy
as Ben Yetzel would do is absolute madness; it will simply mean the
cramping and narrowing down of all the best that is in us; it will mean
the practical ruin of the State.”
Footnote 12:
Dr. Herzl’s principle.
“And yet you are an orthodox Jew yourself?”
“I am. Use is second nature, you know, and I am willing to try and set a
good example. But I am a broad-minded man of the world, and I know that
that world does not end at my own horizon. People of different
temperaments need various forms, even of the same religion. It is
impossible for an Englishman like yourself, for instance, to beat your
breast like the Polish Jew.”
Montella nodded. “You are a sensible man, doctor,” he said, with
enthusiasm. “But what do you advise?”
“I hardly know. The bulk of the people in Palestine are with Ben Yetzel
to a man. It is only the few emancipated, deep-thinking men like
ourselves who have any thought of rebellion. For the present we must
just watch and wait to see how things go. You will see Ben Yetzel, of
course, while you are here?”
“My people in Haifa expect it of me. I suppose I must.”
“Then be careful what you say to him. He is an adept at catching one in
one’s words. He loves to condemn people out of their own mouths; it is a
form of amusement in which he delights.”
“You may rely on me to be discreet,” returned Montella, with a smile. “I
can be as stolid as the Sphinx when I please.”
They parted for the night, and the young man went to his room with a
light step. To his surprise he found Patricia still half dressed, her
willowy figure enveloped in a loose silken wrapper. Sitting with her
elbows resting on the ledge of the open casement, she looked like some
frail sprite in the light of the moon. Montella went up to her, and
tenderly touched the loosened tendrils of her hair.
“I thought you were in bed long ago, sweet,” he said.
She turned towards him with an affectionate gesture. “I have been
talking to Anne,” was her reply. “It is just a month since her
grandchild died. She seemed very much upset about it, poor woman, and I
think it has done her good to tell me. I have been trying to console
her.”
“At the expense of your beauty sleep?”
“I do not feel inclined for sleep; I am not so tired as I was an hour
ago.”
“But you must sleep, or you will be fit for nothing to-morrow,” he urged
gently. “What were you gazing at so intently out of the window?”
“Jerusalem!” she replied, and the words fell almost musically from her
lips. “I look through this casement window, and I see the city stretched
out before me, with its white domes and flat roofs, and a kind of spell
comes over me as I gaze. See how solitary it looks, surrounded by those
savage hills, and yet it is the centre of the three great religions of
the world, and the goal of pilgrims from the uttermost ends of the
earth. Even I, who am neither a Jewess by birth nor scarcely a Christian
by faith, cannot help feeling thrilled. Eight times destroyed, it has
come through fire and blood, and still remains; even Rome cannot boast
of such a record as this.”
Montella smiled.
“What a fascinating goddess Jerusalem is!” he exclaimed softly. “She
intoxicates us all when we first come within her walls; but you will
find that the charm will wear off when you have been here a few days. A
bird’s-eye view of the city is more satisfactory, I think, than a closer
inspection. She doesn’t improve on acquaintance, for beneath her
apparently peaceful exterior, there rises the humbug of her
ecclesiastical show-places, the wrangle of creeds. When you have seen
all the sights of the place, you will find that your pleasing sensations
have gradually evaporated. At least, that was my experience on my first
visit here.”
“You are more matter-of-fact than I am,” she rejoined, almost
reproachfully. “I am sure that to me Jerusalem will always remain the
same.”
She closed the casement and turned away, a thoughtful expression in her
eyes. She could not imagine why the sight of the city should raise such
emotions in her, since she was not bound to it by ties either of race or
faith. She was always moved by places of historic interest, it was true,
and she remembered how greatly she had been stirred by her first view of
the seven hills of Rome; but Jerusalem impressed her in an entirely
different way, and one which she could not so easily explain. She had
looked forward with no especial pleasure to her sojourn in the Holy
City, and had come merely because her husband wished it. Now, however,
her feeling was one of inexplicable delight. She would not have missed
the visit for the world.