There were two things in the Ghetto that had a strange attraction for
the child: one was a large marble slab on the wall near his house,
which he gradually made out to be a decree that Jews converted to
Christianity should never return to the Ghetto nor consort with its
inhabitants, under penalty of the cord, the gallows, the prison, the
scourge, or the pillory; the other was a marble figure of a beautiful
girl with falling draperies that lay on the extreme wall of the
Ghetto, surveying it with serene eyes.
Relic and emblem of an earlier era, she co-operated with the slab to
remind the child of the strange vague world outside, where people of
forbidden faith carved forbidden images. But he never went outside; at
least never more than a few streets, for what should he do in Venice?
As he grew old enough to be useful, his father employed him in his
pawn-shop, and for recreation there was always the synagogue and the
study of the Bible with its commentaries, and the endless volumes of
the Talmud, that chaos of Rabbinical lore and legislation. And when he
approached his thirteenth year, he began to prepare to become a "Son
of the Commandment." For at thirteen the child was considered a man.
His sins, the responsibility of which had hitherto been upon his
father's shoulders, would now fall upon his own, and from counting for
as little as a woman in the congregation, he would become a full unit
in making up the minimum of ten men, without which public worship
could not be held. And so, not only did he come to own a man's
blue-striped praying-shawl to wrap himself in, but he began to "lay
phylacteries," winding the first leather strap round his left arm and
its fingers, so that the little cubical case containing the holy words
sat upon the fleshy part of the upper arm, and binding the second
strap round his forehead with the black cube in the centre like the
stump of a unicorn's horn, and thinking the while of God's Unity and
the Exodus from Egypt, according to the words of Deuteronomy xi. 18,
"And these my words ... ye shall bind for a sign upon your hand, and
they shall be as frontlets between your eyes." Also he began to study
his "Portion," for on the first Sabbath of his thirteenth year he
would be summoned, as a man, to the recitation of the Sacred Scroll,
only instead of listening, he would have to intone a section from the
parchment manuscript, bare of vowels and musical signs. The boy was
shy, and the thought of appearing brazenly on the platform before the
whole congregation was terrifying. Besides, he might make mistakes in
the words or the tunes. It was an anxious time, scarcely redeemed by
the thought of new clothes, "Son-of-the-Commandment" presents, and
merry-makings. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night in a
cold sweat, having dreamed that he stood on the platform in forgetful
dumbness, every eye fixed upon him. Then he would sing his "Portion"
softly to himself to reassure himself. And, curiously enough, it
began, "And it was in the middle of the night." In verity he knew it
as glibly as the alphabet, for he was infinitely painstaking. Never a
lesson unlearnt, nor a duty undone, and his eager eyes looked forward
to a life of truth and obedience. And as for Hebrew without vowels,
that had long since lost its terrors; vowels were only for children
and fools, and he was an adept in Talmud, cunning in dispute and the
dovetailing of texts--quite a little Rabbi, they said in the Ghetto!
And when the great moment actually came, after a few timid twists and
turns of melody he found his voice soaring aloft triumphantly, and
then it became to him a subtle pleasure to hold and dominate all the
listening crowd. Afterwards his father and mother received many
congratulations on the way he had "said his Portion."
And now that he was a man other parts of Judaism came into prominence
in his life. He became a member of the "Holy Society," which washed
and watched the bodies of the dead ere they were put to rest in the
little island cemetery, which was called "The House of Life" because
there is no death in the universe, for, as he sang triumphantly on
Friday evenings, "God will make the dead alive in the abundance of His
kindness." And now, too, he could take a man's part in the death
services of the mourners, who sat for seven days upon the ground and
said prayers for the souls of the deceased. The boy wondered what
became of these souls; some, he feared, went to perdition, for he knew
their owners had done and eaten forbidden things. It was a comfort to
think that even in hell there is no fire on the Sabbath, and no
Fire-woman. When the Messiah came, perhaps they would all be forgiven.
Did not the Talmud say that all Israel--with the good men of all
nations--would have a part in the world to come?