QUtJ 3 1924 074 488 325 The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924074488325 In compliance with current copyright law, Cornell University Library produced this replacement volume on paper that meets the ANSI Standard Z39.48-1984 to replace the irreparably deteriorated original. 1994 WORKS ISSUED By THE NEW YORK. Issue for 5636- 1875-6. •mij/Ti/i NEW YORK: PRINTED AT THE INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL OF THE HEBREW ORPHAN ASYLUM, 76th Street, bet. Thibd and Lexington Aveb. 187;"). Jewish Family Papers: Letters of a TRANSLATED PUOM TllK GERMAN OF Dr. WILHELM HERZBERG (" Gus-civ mAhakdt -), Key. Dr. FREDERIC de SOLA. MENDES, Adjunct Minister of t/ie Congregation " Shaaray 2'ephila" New York. •n-i',T/'n'?-i rrx.vb NEW YORlv: J^m^riijHtt 3^ttti$I| ]?tiWitalian ^tnjlelt^. October, 1875. ;■ i.i Entered, according ix> Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by the Ameeioan Jewish Publication Society, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. NOTICE TO SUBSCRIBERS. Tiiic two lemaining woiks announced on last page for publication in 187o have been witlidrawu for the present. In tlieir stead the following essays are issued with this volume: — ZiNz : — TiiK .Tkavish Moralists ok tiik Mii>i)i,e Ai^es, from his work " Znr (7eschichte und Literatur.'' PEiir.ES: — The Wedding axd Finerai- Ceremonies of the Hebrews in Post-Bibi.icai. Times. For 1876, and by sjieeial permission of the Autlior's heirs, the late Dr. Abraham Geioeu's Classical Lectures on the History of Judaism will be issued early in the Spring. The selection of the works just named will, we trust, satisfy our subscribers that we are earnest]}' striving to attain the objects for which the American Jewish Publication Society has been established, viz. : to make accessible to the English-reading public tlie best and most reliable sources of information on the Philosophy, History, and Literature of Judaism. Acting on behalf of an Association that embraces men of all shades of opinions, we take our stand on per- fectly neutral ground. The works proposed for publication are judged solely by their literary merits, without any reference what- ever to the paiticular views and sentiments, which must be looked upon as those of the authors or (regarding prefaces and notes) of the translators only, and as in no way committing the officers of the Society. PUBLICATION COMMITTEE of the A. J. P. 8. M PREFACE. A FEW words on the origin of the following translation wUl testify to the value of the work which is here presented in a new dress to the English-reading public. The Translator was yet studying at the Breslau Theological Seminary when the book was first brought under his notice by a fellow-student, one of its most enthusiastic admirers. A large number of copies were at once procured and read with avidity by our comrades. It is impossible to describe the apj)lause the book called forth : never had we read so glowing and so powerful a vindication of pure Judaism. We were rejoiced that the country which had produced an Eisenmenger, a Wagenseil, Schudt, Pfefferkorn, et hoc genus onine, should have yielded in our day too so triumphant a Defender of the Faith. Our venerable Director, the Very Rev. Dr, Frankel (to whom be peace !) was as enthusiastic as any of his young disciples in its praise. It was then that the undersigned conceived the idea of rendering the book accessible to his English brethren. The work of translation ' was commenced and carried on in leisure intervals for the next few years. In January, 1874, in conjunction with Mr. A. Herzberg, then of London, brother of the author, a prospectus was issued in England, proposing the publication of the work by subscription. The project was heai-tily indorsed by the Veiy Rev. the Chief Rabbi and the Rev. Dr. Herrman Adler, the latter of whom kindly made valuable suggestions as to omissions and alterations proper in a version to VI PREFACE. come befoi'e average English readers. The matter, however, not being taken up by tlie Anglo-.TewisIi public, the work is now pre- sented to the Jews of America under the auspices of the American Jewish Publication Society. Tiie translation here offered contains all the alterations agreed upon for the London issue, lieing the result of the intermittent Labor of years, it is hoped that most imperfections have been elimi- nated ; the peculiar philosophical character of the middle portions, however, has rendered the tran.slation somewhat more difficult than the general run of German books. The Translator has added a few notes, explaining references which would othei'wise be obscure to the ordinary lay-reader, Hebrew or Christian. Trusting that this little work will be well received by our brethren, both Jew and Gentile — the former of whom will derive valuable support and information, the latter respectful and considerate instruc- tion therefrom — a heai'ty " God-speed !" is wished it by New York, October, ^^^. THE TRANSLATOR. LETTER I. S , Sept. 20tli, I80-. I AicRivED yesterday and aia living with Rabbi Nathan. All passed off easily, more easily than I expected, and the Lord bo praised, I stand on the threshold of my longed-for labor. I am sitting in a back room of the old Frankisli house ; my -win- dows look out upon a large yard filled with children at play. Now and then their meny laughter reaches my ear, as I sit poring over a fine edition of the Mishna,^ which my kind host has permitted me to bring to my room. At one time ray heart beats high within me, in joyful, almost boastful exultation, and then again I shudder and draw back, and call myself unworthy, weak — but am I not fighting for a higher power ? Is not my aim a lofty one, and if I reach it, do I not labor for all eternity? But let me tell you about my jour- ney in proper order. I left Hartlepool, whence I wrote you last, in the Neptune, at mid- night, and aiTived, after a rather rough passage of fortj'-eight hours, in Hamburg. The boat remained all night, I know not wherefore, lying in the middle of the Elbe, but the passengers were allo\ved, if they chose, to disembark. I had been so unwell on the voyage, and the air in the cabin was so close and oppressive, that I honestly longed for the comfort of a respectable hotel. My fellow-voyagers had passed the time in playing cai-dg all the way. Among them was a tall, pale young man, who was equally anxious with me to reach terra firma. There were plenty of boats alongside, and looking out our luggage from the pile the steamer had brought along, we soon landed in the pitch dark night in the quay. I was agi-eeably surprised to find that the Customs-authori- ties, so troublesome with us, left me quite undisturbed, and with the pleasant feeling of a difficulty overcome, I was whirled along into the tow«. My companion asked me whether I intended to put up 1 LETTEliS OF A MISSIONARY. at any ijaiticular hotel ; if not, lie proposed the King of Fertugal, where he usually stopped; I had no objection, and thither we went. The change of scene, the anticipation of the new circumstances I was approaching, had so excited ine that I became more talkative than usual, and my companion's melancholy taciturnity and shoi't answers did not attract my notice. His pale face, as lie listlessly stared into the flame of the street lamps, drew my attention. I asked him, in some concern, if he were unwell, and no great persuasion ■was needed to draw from the poor fellow the history of his misfor- tune. He had failed, he said, in business, through fraud on the side of his partner, and had to flee from his native town, leaving his young wife and an infant three months old. He had spent two months in England in great distress, looking for a means of liveli- hood, but in vain. He intends now to give himself up to justice, and purchase the vicinity of his darlings with imprisonment. For the present, he intends to hide iu Hamburg and await news from them ; I had to promise him to seek out his wife and child in S . I -was soiTy for him, but his confidence, especially in such a delicate personal matter, seemed to ine too easily given, and it made me somewhat suspicious. I rejected therefore, without much ado, his proposition that we should hire a room iu common, held no more conversation with him, and upon arrival at the hotel, had myself shown iiito a chamber where I could drink my tea alone. I sat quietly by the cozy fireside and let the wounds of the past cross my inind in review. What have I done that I should not be rejected like the rest ? Verily, many are called, but few are chosen, and, mindful of my unworthiness, I am overcome Avith humility ! I saw myself a timid boy again, hurrying over the Moorfield hills, aud wandering about our splendid park in my early solitude. I do not remember ever having joined in boyish games ; is it only that I have forgotten ? I know I often stood wondering afar oflT when the others romped in joyous childish sport; just as, later, I used to watch, not without an envious feeling, when the young men of my age whu-led along in the dance, liolding some blooming girl in their arms. They enjoyed a pleasure I did not comprehend, because I never had experienced it; I should indeed very much have liked to do so, but I knew not how to set about it. Why did not t^e boys ask me to join them in their play, like they did others, whose par- J.ETTEKS Oi" A -MISSIONAUY. 3 ents they were incessantly begging for jjermission ? Wliy did tliey fall to whispering to each other when they caught sight of lue, and grow silent when I drew near? I could not imagine the reason. How joowei-ful, even in the boy, was the instinctive sense of grati- tude for deeds of benevolence ! I thought tlie world centred in nie, and I would execute something new, something unheard of: I v.-ould become a benefactor of my brethren. In my dreams I beheld myself possessed of King Soloiuon's signet. Then I would fill the boxes of the poor, secretly and by night, with glittering gold, and with delight depicted to myself their joy when they unexpectedly discovered the treasure in the morning. Poor child! hoping 1o make men happy — with gold I You gave me a peculiar education. I was not suffered to enter the close class-room, had no need to fear the rod of the angi-y school- master who stood among the boys like the arbiter of worlds on the day of judgment. I used to go to the rector. "Why, I knew not. I never asked myself why I studied Hebrew in addition, while the other boys bad enough with their Latin and Gj-eck, nor why I had to learn all those curious customs and observances. I should have liked the study well, almost too well, if that man had not been my teacher. I know you did not like him either. His dignified, pomjj- ous air when silent, and that continual sweet smile wlien he opened his lips — I never ■\entured to be myself, to be natural, in his pres- ence. For he was always wound up, always the same : tlie same sanctimonious vanity always shot from the small, black, piercing eyes ; the same saintly humility was always displayed on his flat fore- head and sharp-cut nose. "I wonder whether he winds himself up at night or in the morning 1" I used to ask myself; "I should dearly like to see him once unwound ! '' I did not fear the man, I rather felt disposed to hate him, and when he went so far as to pat my head with his hand, I shuddered and felt a repugnance amount- ing to disgust. "When I sat in front of him, with my head bent over the book, attentively translating the Hebrew words, if I came to a difficult passage and looked up into his ashy face, with its high, bald forehead, there he used to sit leaning back in his chau-, his shallow black wig displaced, and his own red hair sprouting out beneath it I could not speak then : I could not hear him — I saw his lips moving, talking to me ; but my childish mind was so full of -I BETTERS OF A MISSIONARY. dread, tliat it seemed convulsed, and my members refused their office. He never jjunished me. He M'as silent when he saw I did not speak, and sent me home. Like a released captive, I walked along, reeling under the oppression of his presence, until the meadows and gardens roused me, and nmnlng and jumping made me forget Avhnt I had felt. I used to go tlicn better prepared for the ne.xt lesson ; I translated fluently and noted his corrections, but I dared not look at him ; if I did, the same spell came upon me ! Every other man I looked free and openly in the face ; from this one, I recoiled as if I bore a sense of blackest guilt in my soul, known to him alone ; I shuddered before him as before a guiltj'^ conscience ! How different it was in your lessons, my dear father! You I could look at, and how I loved to look ! Your earnest, c.ihu counte- nance, in which the firm, blue eyes gazed upon the questioner, inspiring confidence ; the calmness and humanitj' of your whole being penetrated me with beneficent warmth. Still I used to prefer being Avith you out of lesson-time. There was no difficulty with secular instruction, but oh ! those religious lessons ! Not an hour, but a:i eternity they used to last ! When the lesson commenced, I felt like a pilgrim taking leave of his friends and entering the glowing desert, and when the clock struck, I sprang up joyfully, like a prisoner released. I took to every other branch of knowledge easily, but theology remained a closed book witli seven seals. To please you, I learned the subject by heait, mechanically, and sighed as I blamed my weak intellect that could not fathom its meaning. My dearest wish was to have a genius for theology, in order to delight you by my pro- ficiency in your favorite study. But as soon as I tried to penetrate to these?ise of your words (and I loved you too well not to try often), I lost my composure, and while I listened to }'ou with my evos beat on the book, with all my powers strained to follow you, the same awful sensation fell upon me that the rector used to inspire. But ■vv^hen, bewildered and in speechless dread, I raised my eyes, expecting to see that man's pale features, and I gazed ou your true, kind eyes instead, a curious sense of confidence pervaded me, for I saw you, and my eyes would not cease gazing. I saw my benefactor — the modest, pious man, the friend of the poor, who had taken the destitute boy LliTl'EKS OF A XIISSIONAKY into his house, and caved for liim more than a father could. Yes, noble-minded man, I foi-got your words, thinking of yourself, or, let me confess, I heard you not, Yfelt you : joy and admiration of your kind heart quite filled up mine. But with all this joy there was min- gled a strange and painful feeling : you loved me so well, and yet I could not understand you ! How curious children's hearts are ■ Grown-up peojjlc look down like gods upon them, and yet they are men too, with )norc intense feel- ings, weaker passions, and nobler impulses. We should never lorget they are human beings in miniature : more resembling animals, it is true, but nearer also to the angels. As a child, I had curious feelings, Avhich I do not even understand now. I used actually to jjity you, my dear father, as you looked me earnestly in the face and taught the doctrine of Salvation, or used I to pity myself f I know my heart was full of tender compassion, and when you used to speak eloquently and earnestly — why shall I not confess now that I am no more bashful, confess what, as a boy, I kept hidden like a crime from you, would fain have hidden from myself? Your words reached my ear — but no farther ! You spoke in German, my mother-tongue : Chinese would not have sounded stranger, and all the inspiring pictures and parables of the Evangelists passed like unsubstantial shadows before my eyes. And — why shall I not speak the truth and illustrate what I owe to you 1 — and the foolish lad used to grow terrified espe- cially at the picture of the Sufferer! Oft did you i)aint in glowing enthusiasm the pains he took upon himself, to redeem mankind ! You showed me the glorious form nailed to the cross, and purple drops of blood oozing fi-om his hands and feet, falling on to the jcllow sand ! lAvatched how the bitter agony distorted his mild features, arid I shuddered at the sight ! I have so long laughed at your doctrine of orignal sin that I almost beo'in to believe it ; for what else could it have been but my sinful sensualism that combated that man's moral excellence ? " Death ' death ! " it rang through me like the tolling of a funeral bell ; I am only just entering life, and they are teaching me to leave it ! Misdirecting a longing, which only in dreams yearns for the welfare of humanity, crippling the lioly emotions of a pure and noble heart, they strive to ' make the futm-e inan believe that a -loomans virtue is the highest of j all ! Wherein should I imitate him : him, the example of all man- 1 6 LETTERS Ol' A MISSIOXAItr. kind ? I coTild jiot work miracles, I couUl not prcacli better tiiiin he ; what remains — hut to die like Mm ? I froze witli liorror at the thought, and sat like one dead, till you closed your book and gave the sign for freedom ! Plow happy is tlie child's disposition that can cast off tlie burden of the past like a knapsack from the shoulders ! In the open au', in the company of my flowers, my fowls and pigeons, not a recollection lown the room. Would they receive me without suspicion 1 Would not the next moment witness the crusliing of the long-cherished plan 1 And what right had I to force my way here under a deceitful mask, and carry discord perliaps into a quiet family circle ? Fie upon those foolish qualms of conscience ; inspired only by childish bashfulness ! My goal rose like a flaming lieacon before me, and I thought of my vows to you. My eyes flashed once more then, my heart throbbed violently : was I not imitating those great martyrs who fought .against error with mental Aveapons ? What our great predecessors did for the heathen, we Avill do for the forsaken children of Israel. They are still accursed wanderers on the face of the earth ; they arj Avretched ; we will comfort them. How is it possible they should not be sunk in sin, Avhen they know not Him Avho took all sin upon Himself ? That baseness and crime should not be their lot, since the iron hand of tyranny has ruled them for centu- ries ? The first part of religion's miracle has been accomplished, the Eurojjean heathen has been converted, and truth spreads ever farther over the e-arth ; but the holy, the chosen people is still banished from its King's royal presence, still is it stiff'-necked and obstinate ; 1,ETTERS OF A MISSIONARY. but love shall effect what hatred failed to do, and fulfill the whole of the great propliecy. With these thoughts in my mind, I remained standing in the reception room, until the door opened and the Rabbi appeared. He was a man of middle stature, in a long old-fashioned robe, with a small velvet cap upon his liead. A dark, almost melancholy cast of countenance, with quiet, soft eyes, and a long gray beard, which accorded well with the dignity of the man's whole appearance. I stood perplexed, uncei-tain how I should greet my uncle. He approached me slowly, took my hand and kissed me on both cheeks. " Blessed be he who cometh ! " said he, " welcome, Samuel, my son ! " He held me long in his arms : when he released me, I saw tears in his eyes. I was touched, for I had not expected such warmth. " Uncle, yon remember my father ? " He looked at me reproachfully. "How should I forget my own blood, my younger brother, who gi'ew up at my side ? He lacked your quiet countenance, he Avas wild and restless. He soon went into the country as a peddler, wliile I sat in the Jieth Ilamedrash (college) and studied. Then lie married and emigi^ated, over the ocean, to America. Thirty years ago.! At first I hoped for a letter from day to day, from week to week ; then I gave up the hope. I often reflected, ' He does not write because he is not prospering ' — then I felt that he was dead, and I grieved I knew not of his end. At last I received your letter with that of your foster-father ; what joyous Iiours you caused me ! For I did not know I had a nephew — but here I stand prating and forget that you have traveled all night. Ton are weary and need repose ! " "Not so, uncle," I answered, "let ine stay with you if your busi- ness allows it." " If my business allows it ! How you speak to your uncle ! Shall I not have leisure for my Reuben's son ? Think you I am not curious to hear what has happened to you, the sole inheritor of his name, and to learn what you know of your parents 1 " I was per]>lexed. How often had I already in thought anticipated the situation and prepared fitting answers to all the questions I imaut go now and rest awhile, your room is ready." As I rose he added, " One tiling more, Samuel : you are of course a good Jew ? " " I hope so, uncle," I replied prevaricating. " Perhaps you do not know in what sen.se we use the word here in Germany; we understand thereby one who strictly adheres to the ceremonial laws.'' " Then, uncle, I am not a good Jew." " But in my house, my dear nephew, you must live .-is such." " 3Iust, uncle ? " " Otherwise, sorry as I should be, I could not receive you." " But, uncle," I exclaimed, " how can you be so intolerant as to lEXTEUS OF A MISSIONARY. 13 demand that a man should accept customs wliicli do not proceed from his conviction ? You may consider the old yoke binding jel, but I, out of my own perception, liave withdrawn myself from it, and you will surely not require of me such unworthy hypocrisyl " " All that I ask, my child, is that you shall be one of us. I>ut whether you repeat the daily pi-ayei-s in your room, is your affair ; but I request strict observance of lioly-days and tlie dietary laws." " Well, that I can agree to, although your demand seems some- what strange to me in this nineteenth century. Is it not exactly tho boast of our age that naen have conceded equal rights to individual convictions, and that the voice of public opinion accordingly ooii- demns him who dares to force his view, his will, on others 1 " " Ha! you read the Times occasionally," said my nncle with dry humor. " But I do not echo it " " Who said you did, my dear nei)hew? Now see : if I wished to tease you, I could say, You are a ti'aveler, you come from the seats of culture, from nations who stand at the summit of civilization, into a small German town, into the secluded house of a Rabbi, who since his student years has held no intercourse with learned men ; please be so kind as to have a little consideration for our conservatis:a in things which are harmless to you, and useful to us. But this I say," and he raised his forefinger, smiling pleasantly, " mind and be pretty cautious with an old man's prejudices, my dear Samuel ; perhaps, if you are good, I'll give you a couple for an ornament." " Oh ! many thanks," I exclaimed laughingly, " I only rejoice that I am free from prejudices." " There, I thought so," he said, nodding his head ; " but answer me, you dangerous young man, will you live according to my projiosal? " " Well, all things considered, I shall not compromise myself there- by." " Go to your room iioav ; you will be called at dinner lime. Rachel!" My cousin came in and greeted me kindly. Her father bade her take me to my room. I followed her up one flight of stairs into a clean old-fashioned chamber, where I found my baggage already. Then I was alone and could ponder on my curious position at leisure. Good-by, dear father. LETTER III. OCTOUKK /iTIl, IS,')- You will be gLul to heai-, my father, that I have become quite at home here, and pass my time usefully. I see alreadj' I have much to leavii, and many views to modify. But things are not so bad as I anticipated fii-st : these jieople are not so worthless as they appear ; prejudice liad sorely blinded even me, who ara one of their race. My first lessons ill Cliristianity inculcated detestation of the Jews: they had committed a most lieinous crime, and therefore misfortune's curse clings to their footsteps. When I went to London, and passed by their poverty-stricken hovels in Houndsditch, their curious jargon and incessaut gestures made me turn from them with contempt and disgust. I was tlius early taught to associate tlie ideas of baseness and avarice with then- very name, and I gradually accustomed myself to look upon the jjeople as a species of Yahoos, as wretched carica- tures of the Divine Image. I remember a curious figure that once appeared on our village common, and attracted universal attention. It was a man in long Eastern garb, a turban on his head. Two long ringlets graced his temples, a;;d an imposmg beard reached to his breast; he was probably a Turkish or an Asiatic Jew. What a godsend for oiu- boys ! After staring a little, in an instant the whole mob Avere round him, hooting, shouting, capering ; at one time closing in on him, and then running awav again ; hurling stones and keeping up an incessant liowling : " a Jew ! a Jew /" I stood afar ofi^, too proud to take part m the uproar, but gazing with a sort of satisfaction on the stranger's terroi', as at one time he stood still and addressed the boys with upraised hands, whereupon wild roars of laughter greeted liim in reply, and how then he continued his Avay without regarding their attacks. " Why Ls he so obdurate ? " I thought ; " why does he so openly and defiantly proclaim himself an unbeliever to the world ? " LETTIiliS OF A JIISSIOSAliV. IS To such a degree hnd the instruction I had received bhmted my feel- ings ; and yet that gai'b that they so derided, was tlie same that our Master of Nazareth "wore : the beard, untouched by the razor, waved on his breast in the same manner. I wonder Avlictlier the Romans, clad in their togas and armor, made like sport of hiiu ! I scarcely think it. It is true, it is only liere that I have learned it is no sin to retain the customs of our ancestors, and that one can be a good man even when wearing gaberdine and beard. A great number of foreigners visit the Rabbi every day, and many poor people, for whom food and drink are continually being prepared. The most interesting to me are the Polish gaberdine- wearers. When my lesson with my nncle is over, and I want recreation, or perhaps after dinner, I go down-stairs where they are comfortably seated, reposing after the labor of eating, and conversing. They look vevj' poor, but their garment is always of silk, and never torn ; they are beggars, are called " schnorrers," but are quite different from our beggars. They are not rough, or ignorant, or riotous, nor are they drunkards. They are intelligent people who have enjoyed some education ; indeed, their knowledge of Hebrew would put many a clergyman to shame. They speak a sort of corrupt German, but their words betray thought and even wit. They consider the alms that are given them as their right, and indeed the bestower does not regard his gift as actually meritorious ; it is only his duty, because his brethren are poor and he rich. I understand now why in spite of all the poverty, there are no poor among the Jews. With us, there is not only an intellectual, but also a moral difference of culture, separ- ating the ujiper and lower classes, because, among our people, the latter difference depends on the former. Our more refined manners protect us, like the Avire-gauze protects the miner's light, from the bi-utality of the mob ; our better knowledge teaches us to avoid vice because we are aware of its consequences. But among the Jews, a difference exists as regards intellect, but not as regards morality. The common schiwrrer stands on an equal level of piety with the rich merchant Avhose j^urse is ever open to the poor. Often indeed is the latter excelled by the poor tradesman in the punctual observance of all religious ceremonies. If I seek the cause of all this, I only lose mvself in a labyrinth of surmise and liypothesis. Verily, this people must be destined for a great future, when, even in the time of IG LETTERS OF A MISSIOXAKY. its rejection, it preserves such valuable qualities wliich are lacking in more favored nations. I love to make them recount the liistory of the sufferings which drove them away from their homes. They are mostly Poles or Russians, who have come hundreds of miles, going they know no<^ whither; the benevolence of their co-religionists assures them notonly traveling expenses and board, but, as I am told, they amass consid- erable sums from the alms they receive. The other day I sat down next to a little Polish man, suffering from some eye-disease ; he had come to Germany to seek medical assistance. I asked him how he liked the country. " The Germans are fortunate," he said. " "What they earn, they earn for themselves. They have laws and a king : everything is orderly — yes, the Germans are very fortunate ! " He meant the German Jews. " How is it then Avith you ?" " Do not ask ! " he cried. " Before I came to Germany, I thought it must be so. If I pass a Goi (Christian), it is only natural that he should strike me ; if I meet the police, it is oidy a matter of coui-se that they should rob me ; when the soldiers come, it is only right they should drag off my child. See, yonder is a dog, but no one kicks it without cause. Leave me alone, young man, leave me alone ! " and the tears ran down his while beard. That is how they jireach the Gospel to the Jews in Russia. "Is it true," I asked, "that the late emperor was so harsh toward you?" "A murderer!" ho cried raising his hands to heaven. "A murderer ! I will not curse him, for he was an anointed ruler ; but he set his iron foot upon us and trod us into the dust, he crushed us, and if it had not been for God's mercy, he would have rooted out Judaism from Russia. He molested us so much : made laws how we should dress, how we should cut our hair and our beards, so that -He grew weary of our life." " Did you ever see him ? " " Yes ; I was one of the deputation from the Jews in the year 1843. I happened to be then president of the congregation, so I went with. I saw him then. A handsome man, but haughty, alas ! how haughty ! " " What was the deputation for ? " I asked. LETTERS OF A MISSIONARY. 17 He looked at me in nstonishment. " Do you not know tliat he decreed tliat all Jews in Russia and Poland should remove fifty veiTSts from the Prussian and Austrian frontiers ? Leave their houses, their synagogues, the graves of their fathers, and settle in a land already overcrowded with Jews ? " "Why was that?" "Because some among us had been guilty of smuggling, his wrath descended on us all. In vain we offered that each community should assume responsibility for its members under severe penalties. It was in vain. Just as Nebuchadnezzar led our race away to Babylon, he dragged 200,000 of us from our homes ! " " And now he has died suddenly," said I, " on the very threshold of his wishes ! " "What sovereign has ever fared well," cried the old man, "that stretched out his arm against Israel ? How could the Czar be prospei'- ' ous when so many thousand mothers knelt and wept tears of blood before the Eternal ; when so loud a cry of anguish went up from our synagogues ? The soldiers broke into our houses at night, tore the lads naked from their beds, cut off their hair, and di-agged them away into the interior of the country, where our eyes never saw them again. He put them into the military schools and drilled them for war ; they learned to eat unclean food, to live like cattle ; to despise their father and their mother, and bow down to gods of wood and stone. Should not the Lord destroy the dearest hopes of this mon- arch, who had sinned so grievously against him 1 God is just : he tore him from liis course like a brilliant star ; as Isaiah says : — 'jFIoio art thou fallen from Heaven, O morning-star, son of the dawn ! ' He has turned his greatness to naught, to a mockery among the nations.'' The Pole got up, and I did not question liirn more. Had tliey robbed Mm of a son ? I went away with a heavy heart and ate nothing at table, for the tears fell from me incessantly. I excused myself on the plea of indisposition, went to my room, and wept over this unfortunate people. But amidst all my sorrow, there was a gleam of consolation : "One thing could have saved them," I said, " could have saved their dearest possessions, home and family : — a few drops of icater and a lie" — but they woidd not lie. God be praised there are yet men who cling to ti'uth, deem it holier than the dearest ties of family ! " 2 LETTER IV. October 12th, 185-. I HAVE devised a plan by which I can lead the conversation to the delicate topic as often as I choose. Yesterday, after we had studied a section in the Gemara,^ explained and debated upon the doubtful points, I said to my uncle: "Rabbi, is it right that we do not dispute with the missionaries f They assert that although we support our- selves on arguments from our learned writings, their polemical con- tents are either little known or lightly esteemed. And so, when we are attacked, we are able to answer nothing." He looked at me without saying a word. " A missionary," I continued, " told me he had often visited a Rabbi for that purpose, but each time had been sent away from the door. At last, upon a written request for an interview, he had received his own letter, back, upon which the Rabbi had written the words in Hebrew : The fool answei-s the /bo? / " My uncle closed his book and said : " Did they ever disjjute with you then ? " " I can not deny it," I answered. " You know the English are very IjiouS; and try hard to make converts ; they tried often enough with me. I thought I ought to take up the challenge for the honor of our religion, and I will not deny I was often at a loss, and even if I did not feel myself conquered, yet I was silenced. If you will permit me, I should like to put a few questions to you now and then ; you will be able to clear up a good many of my doubts." " What I think of your request," he answered, " you will soon see. But I am willing to give you all the explanation I am able, because you are a Jew. I, too, do not vouchsafe such to Christians." I shook my head in wonderment. " Shall the teacher learn wisdom from the scholar ? " he resumed. " As long as they come to us and wish to instruct us, we can have LETTERS OF A MISSIONAUY. I'J nothing to do with them. Believe me, all the disputation in the world never convinced any one. Only when the Eternal shall lead them, in His own wondrous way, to the perception of their folly, only then will be the hour when we may speak. Till that time, we wait, and wait patiently — until, as Zachariah says, ten men of the Gentiles ehall lay hold of the coat of a Jew." " Alas !" I said, " we have already waited thousands of years in vain. I think, if we possess the truth, it is sinful to withhold it from our fellow-men." " You ai-e young, niy son," he answered, " and I do not blame you ; you have much to learn yet. But tell me, what use is it to point out the sun to a blind man ? You may tell him, it illuminates the world, that from it we derive that light without which nothing would be seen — but you forget that he lacks the very first condition of belief in what you are telling him. Or would you perhaps bid him swear by the sun because you assure him of its light % " " Certainly not," I replied. " Then we must wait till the cataract is ready for the surgeon. When the blind man's eyes shall be open, and, full of shame at the fantastic absurdities of his brain, he begs for instruction, then is the time to speak. He who tries to make men happy against their will, gets small thanks. Was not Electricity as potent, centuries ago, as it is to-day ? Was Steam less mighty ? People did not j)erceive these forces because their eyes were too dull." " But, my dear uncle, that is just what the Christians think of us !" " Let them ! Does their thinking alter the real circumstances % " " So we are to wait then until a miracle brings about the clenoii- meiit f Our great ancestors did not act as if they held this opinion." My uncle could not repress a smile, and looked at me with a mis- chievous twinkle in his eyes. " Well, Samuel, if you are to be the man, so be it, in Heaven's name ! You know we do not need to wait for a miracle : wonders happen every day. Whoever feels the divine spark in his heart, is at once a miraculous messenger of salvation to his people; and if you, my son, are to be this " " Mock away, uncle ! You know I only claim to be an igno- rant student, albeit an eager one." " Not by any means an ignorant one," he answered, patting my shoulder ; " on the contrary, you have learned too much. The man 20 LETTEUS OV A MtSSIOXAUY. i:i England let joii study too much. He meant well, but lie let you do like the nations do now : tliey study and study till they forgot to think for themselves. All according to fashion ; formerly they used to study nothing, now they study too much. And because this has been the case with you, I shall have to converse about things of which I never speak to a Talaiud-pupil, ay, never have yet dared to speak." And as I looked at him in astonishment, he added, " Because they know all about them, Samuel. An ordinary scholar of mine would laugh at the mIiv's and wherefore's I have to tell you." And as I looked a little put out : " With you it is different ; your friends have worked upon your reason unceasingly, as it is their wont, until your heart has grown weary and uncertain of feeling the truth. It is not your fault, my son ; depend upon it, you to i/Z attain certainty ; but foremost of all, in order to strengthen your heart, devote your life to the observance of t lie Law.' These words touched me on a sore point ; but without betraying it, I replied, " You too lay stress iipon forms ; nothing but forms. Such outsidedness is surely not roquisit.iL', good uncle °! " ' How old are you, Samuel ? " " Twenty-five." "Wait then till yo>u- blood has llowed some thirtj' or forty winters through 3"0ur veins. It runs hot in you now, and you consider the seat of life so cortainly the centre of gravity thereof, that morality governs you only from the very fact of its existence in j-our nature. Other motor agents will, later on, gi-ow stronger in your organism ; and happy will you be then if custom and holy forms retain you in the good path ! Your Yicar of Wakefield is right ; in tlie common run, cunning is the only virtue that usually remains to us in old age. We must aid natm-e : it is an absolute necessity'. He who neglects to do so, in art and science, remains a barbarian ; in religion, a Heathen." " But, unale," I exclaimed, " do not the Fetish-worshipers do this and yet remain Heathens ? And the Brahmans — and the Buddhists ? " " Hold," he said, laughing, " did not artistic form exist before the Greeks 1 And yet the Greek rightly rejected the attempts of others, and called them barbarous. Only to him did his heart reveal the tj'pe of truly artistic beauty ; the need of it had been felt before by older people. The Egyptian artist who formed the Fire-goddess with the cat's head : the Assvrian who created the colossal svmbol of LETTKES or A MISSIONARY. '21 the Bull widi a liuman countenance : all drew from the aiine mastcr- soiu-ce from which the Apollo Belvedere sprang. Only it was not the Castalian. ■'' So with us. We are the < nly nation whose heart has revealed the type of pure religious form. But who will care to deny that the dull Kegro has some idea of it? There is only one Religion, just .is truly as there is only one Art ; and neither can speak of concessions ! " " As concerns the first part of what you said," I replied, '• I can not dispute your reasoning, as it appeals to a greater experience than mine. But the second portion, I must confess, is not quite clear to me." " Perhaps because you do not know in what sense I used the word ' revealed.' I do not mean thereby, the descent of the eternal God upon eartli to leveal His will to man ; for He speaks His mysterious language to every being, and every being understands Him. He bids the tiger go in quest of prey, and warns the gazelle to be watchful. He stretches His hand over the tiny worm in the flower's cup and over the whale sporting in mid-ocean ; at His command, the planets M'hirl toward the sun, and at His nod, they retire. And shall the eternal Father, who can-ies the world in His arms, care for His planet children, for His animal children, and not for His other children, men? Lord God ! they have blasphemed Thee, and thought they were prais- ing Thee ; but Thou lookest upon these madmen with patience ! " "If I understand you rightly," I said, "you would depnve man- kind of even thi; lust certainty of salvation. All that we believe is deception, and cm- own will is our God ; where then is the Eternal oi whom you speak ? " " Jii ^ou," said the ILabbi with flashing eye, seizing my hand, "in you ! Do you not belong to the House of Israel ? Does not the blood of Abraham run in your veins ? Therefore are you apj)ointcd a revealer of the Eternal ! He has written His will in your heart and iu the fate of your people ; you must fulfill it, i:i order that your brethren, the nations, may learn it. Others have a book revelation ; all their wisdom is contained in words, to which those who need comfort ascribe supernatural origin. Their present is faded and dried up, and thev 6uj)port themselves on the dry leaves of the past, which they strive in vain to make fresh again. The Eternal, they say, appeared ori earth at a time of need, and vanished again. Whither has He gone ? tl2 I,F.TTERS OF A MISSIONARY. lias He retired to the sun or to Jupiter; or does He wander around in the limitless space of a gigantic fixed star? Alas for these unfor- tunates ^vho believe in the word revelation " " You do not think " " Thhxk? " he repeated with a soft smile ; " if you do not/ee/ it, I have been talking in vain ! If it did not, long ago, draw you with mysterious power toward the ineffable ; if a soft whisper haa not warned you all through life, not to cleave to earthly things ; if you have not instinctively felt delight in what is just, and antipathy for wrong, you are no true son of Judah ! " " Oil : I am, I am \ " I cried, overcome; "truly I am ! Oh ! now I know why I suffered ! " "Ay, you are, indeed you are, son of suffering ! Was there ever a Jew but liad to wee2> secret tears, on account of contempt, mortifica- tion, slander ? And if we are no longer the recognized outcasts of society, Hebrew vermin, as the Great Fredei-ick called us, we are still banished, still wilfully misunderstood. Do you see now, my son, why each Jewish child has more to bear than the Christian? It is not an empty boast in our Festival-prayers — ' Thou hast chosen us before all 2)eop]es ! ' Yes. He hath chosen all the children of His covenant to be the supporters of mankind. But lie is not unjust toward the other nations. According to His holy will, we bavejpjwr- chased this preference Avith sorrows such as no other people has borne. But we wrapped the jiiirple mantle of office, with which He had invested us, close round our blood-stained heads, tliat Ave might weep undisturbed ; and even on our joyous festivals, when we stood joyfiiliy before Him, through all our gladsome melodies that recalled the happy past, or sang of a joyous future, tones of sadness echoed !" My uncle, you see, had misunderstood my ejaculation, but I dared not undeceive him. " Then the nations have nothing to do," I said, " but to believe? " "You have named the watchword of the new religion," answered the KabbL "It is Belief, Faith. The Jewish founder of that creed, and his disciples, probably used the Hebrew word enitinah, Avith which Ave designate the essence of all religion, and which Ave might trans- late, Fidelity, Trust. This seems at least to be the sense of the Greek and Latin renderings, Pistis and Fides. The Grseco-Roman world chansred the Avord denoting a sentiment into, one standing for a MTTEES OF A MISSIOSAKY. 23 mental conception. Thus Paul founded a chuich, it is true, though no religion." " Is then faith a faculty of the intellect 1 Do we not read: — Credo quia non inteUigam f (I believe because I do not understand.) And what difference do you make between religion and church ? How can one exist without the other? " " I will answer your last question first," he replied. " Religion I call doctrine as carried out in daily life, as displayed, towards God, in veneration ; towards man, in the strict observance of enacted moral laws. As such, I recognize, for^ instance, Islam. The other creed has never got as far as religion : their doctrine is contained in books and in the mouths of their clergy : it has never become universal practice. The English and Scotch Puritans were exceptions, but they started from a Jewish standpoint. Some of its professors have carried out its doctrine, but the people possess only its name. The Clergy, nevertheless, have succeeded in erecting an external, highly artificial and mighty dominion over their conscience, or, at least, over society, and that is what I call church." " But then laymen belong to the church too," I said. " Yes, inasmuch as you can not conceive rulers without at the same time supposing the ruled," he replied. "And this leads to the answer to your other question. The Catholic Church is consistent when it draws a strict, material difference between Clergy and Laity. When the contents of dogmas oppose common experience and reason, it is necessary to place them under the watchful supervision of a caste possessing superhuman authority. If this be not done, reason will shatter those dogmas sooner or later. A doctrine that excludes reason, absolutely needs a class of priests. It was on this account, that the foundation of Protestantism was the beginning of the new faith's final destruction ; its clergy sways in mid-air " " But what are you then, uncle? " "la clergyman !" he exclaimed in surprise. " Is that all you know of your religion ? Thank God, we Jews have no Church and no Clergy. Even in the days of our nationality, the priests were only superintendents of the ceremonies, and not sole receptacles of the Law. I am a teacher, as my title indicates. Tlie regard due to me is grounded on my deeper knowledge of the Jewish code. Every mem- ber of our congregation who equals or excels me therein, has equal or 2-4 bttter right to be heard. As to the divnie service in synagogue, it is entirely under the direction of the conimuuity; every Jew i.-s qualified to lead it, and if you would like to conduct to-night's service, you need only say so." " Xo, I should scarcely be able," I replied ; " I lack the necessary practice. But still, I do not clearly see what fault you find with Christianity ; you youreelf assert that religion is not an aifair of the intellect." " True. And it is just therefore that I blame its professors, when, like the Heathen, they are better provided with the religious senti inent than with its forms. They are still so weak as to swear by the words of their master, and think they satisfy the divine will when they cling to a few unintelligible propositions that must be learned by heai't, not comprehended." "But you will not deny," I replied, "that many Christians, esj)c- cially since the rc-discovery of the Gospel by the Reformation, liave placed the essence of religion in sentiment, and only accept doctrines which oppose reason because they have become bound up with them by holy traditions, and because much more than sentimental ecstasy or high morality is necessary for religion. Many a mind, yearning for truth," I added, thinking of my own experience, " has wi'estled with itself manfully until it has succeeded in clearing up its own obscurity, and with a bleeding heart, brought the sacrifice of its reason." "Yes," he said, bending his head, "so spake too the women on the banks of the Ganges : — with bleeding hearts they cast their babes into the holy flood. And the pious servants of Moloch, too, laid their children in the heated arms of the brazen god, in humble sub- mission to a higher wisdom. Woe, woe to you who bring oflferings to the Eternal from the choicest gifts His goodness hath sent you ! " Light flashed through my brain, like summer-lightning through the dark night ; I strove to hold it firmly, but it vanished, almost before it appeared — in despair I shook my head. We were interrupted then, and I was glad to retire with the burden of my thoughts. So much was clear to me : I should have to renew the old struggle I had wished buried, renew it here — to what end 1 Suppose there is no end ? I shudder — I wish I had not begun LETTER V. October 20Tn, 185- I FEAR it is a failure, my father ; would that tliis were all I fear ! Be not angry with me if the long-cherished plan for which you educated me, is not carried out. Although I am so unsettled I know not myself what I am writing. jMy thoughts get lost before I can put them on the paper; I would not write at all if I had not promised you a letter at least once a week. It is only a trial ; you know we agreed it would not be more than a trial. I had returned dangerously ill to Davies' Hall. Thank God, tliat I got as far. Let me dwell there a moment. I used to write you from Paris every week, did I not ? Then too you had exacted the same promise. But when I returned — oh ! I do not wish to recall your pain at my distorted features — no, to warm my heart with the recollection of having been so tenderly, so devotedly loved by you ! Joyfully, yes, almost gratefully, you received me, repentant prodigal as I was. My mirror had to reveal to me my bloated features, not your loving eyes. But wheii I surprised you in your room, weeping, no, not weeping, but sobbing in heart-broken prayer for your wretched adopted son, my father, I was not only punished, I was crushed 1 Had I not swooned away, had not a raging fever chained me insensible to my bed, I could never have endured that burning self-reproach, I should have put an end to my miserable life ! When I recovered con- sciousness, and watched your unceasing attention round my couch, I felt that I must live for your sake. Then with secret pleasure I watched my recovery — how sweet was that time of convalescence ! It was worth undergoing a brain-fever. Released from ray room, how sweet it was to stroll through, the park on your arm ! With what secret pleasure I planted my foot on the ground which a few days before I could not touch with a finger ! Eacli zephyr kissed me as it 26 LETTERS or A MISSIONABV. breathed on my clieek, the very birds sang greeting, each flower waa a di%'ine revelation of the beautiful ! Then it seemed to me as I might hope again, and sweet foreboding thrilled my fluttering heart ! But was that the fitting food for my mind ? You know, my father, that I am thoroughly convinced, all you ever did for me was with the purest intentions for my welfare ; you know I can not doubt you, and you will not imagine I reproach you ; but tell me, was the Bible thei>est food for me, who had but newly awakened ; for me, in so delicate a frame of mind ? The old Bible, perhaps, but the Gospels too? And you only read to me from these latter; we conversed only about them as soon as my health allowed. Unable to think for myself, I had forgotten what I had formerly held, and I did not think of fresh reflection — ^I allowed myself to be lulled into a light species of ecstasy which pleased me right well. Capable of no other mental activity than emotion, it was my delight to give myself up to it entirely. I shed teai-s of agony over the suf- ferings of Jesus, tears of admiration and joy over liis self-sacrifice, and over my own rescue, as I called it, and then I dreamed of a higher, a purely spiritual life, such as that of the Saints. When you, in mysterious words, again and again found reason in my Jewish descent for a lofty mission ; when you painted in glowing zeal the grace of my double rescue ; how could I, just risen from a sick-couch; I who esteemed it a luxmy to have no own will, refuse to recognize in all this a sign from above ? Assuredly, I was called, unworthy as I was, to imitate the holy Apostles, to announce the Evangel to my people ! Add to this, that I deemed such a vocation a great and noble one, and you will not wonder at my enthusiasm then. How your pious tears moved me, my father, when I announced my detei-mination, and then you told me that such had been the desire of your life, the obscurely formed plan, when in pure humanity you gave the oi phan boy a home. But as my bodily weakness diminished, so too did what I was later forced to call my mental infirmity. The first time I rode out, I began to notice how my enthusiasm disappeared with my sickness. I saw then I had mistaken a transient delusion for a permanent truth. Understand me, father, I did not repent my determination, I do not say I repent it now ; but I began to feel ill at ease whenever I thought of it. LETTERS OF A MISSIOKAKY. 27 I gradually recovered my former self, and artificial excitement gave way to my natm-al temperament. But with the former domin- ion of reason, all my old disquietude returned, so that I wished the days of my illness back again : they were the only ones in which I was happy. Yes, I reflected, Luther was right ; reason is.a seductive wench, able to arouse desire, but only apparently capable of satisfying it. A shadow in a coquettish mask. But yonder, they offer me evei-ything I need, peace and trust, and if not through the medium of a self-evident trath, such as I desired, one which should light up my mind like a sun, be as a fixed and certain centre around which my unsettled ideas should become rigid ; at all events it was a prop, it was reliance upon anotlier. I had studied the authorities about him, and had made acquaintance with the German critical school ; but their negative system had brought me only emptiness and cheerless - ness. Well then, thought I, let us try the position in which so many find salvation. I will believe, because I must live — I will examine no more, because I wish to believe. Yes, let that personage, be he who he may, be my eternal light too ; yes, you are right, father, it is foolish and too human to judge the Eternal by mortal measure. "Where too, in the world of reality, could that harmony between idea and fact, which I imagined as the essence of the Deity and its manifes- tation, be actually found ? Even the so-called exact sciences laid down niles only to infringe them by exceptions : exception is the rule of Natm-e, and shall this rule not hold in the highest instance % Thus I shut my eyes — and swore on the crucifix. I had succeeded in reasoning myself back into the state of Grace from which my awakened consciousness had aroused me. When I confessed my state of mind to you on the day before my departure — I sat in the writing chair iu your study, and you were walking up and down, with your hands behind you — you said nothing, but shook your head thoughtfully. "Do you not feel a sentiment of sweet solace in believing in him ? " you asked at last. "Ultimately I do," I replied. '-But I am only persuaded, not con- vinced. A dark misgiving remains in my heart, which I can drive off, but not entirely expel, and which I must conquer in obstinate strife whenever it returas." " What misgiving, my son ? " 2H LETTERS OF A 3IISSI0XAKY. " I fear I am placing my trust in a being as weak as myself and long since dead " " Unhappy youth ! " you exclaimed. " The stiif-ueckedness of your fathers has descended to you ! " "Is it my, fault," I replied, feeling hurt, "is it my fault that I am what I am 1 " Then you approached me and laid your hand lovingly upon ni}' shoulder, " Go forth, my son, and make the trial. The Lord who hath preserved you will not forsake you. I do not think He has preserved the remnant of Jacob for nothing. If I blamed your stiff- neckedness, I know how to value it in the cause of tnith. The stamp of Abraham's descendants can not be effaced. Go, ray son, like your great ancestor, cross the water, not to flee from idols, but to carry the good tidings to your people. Remember you are free, my son, free to act according to your sincere conviction ; whatever goal you attain, shall be welcome to me. I rely on the purity and fidelity of your heart as upon myself." Those were your words. "Then I will make the attempt," I exclaimed, "to found my life upon something dark and inconceivable, I will acquire confidence through work. Welcome the trial you have selected for me I If it be ti-uly a holy weapon which I wield, I must conquer ; if it be net, let it be shattered in my hand ! " I little thought it could turn against myself. You ask how the trial has succeeded ? Have I not said ? If not, e.xcuse my aching brain. But, you ask, what have you written to me then? If nothing else, at least a small token of my old love. LETTER VI. November 1st, I80-. I AM too easy, you write, and allow myself to be governed by now impressions. You say I ought to have commenced with the young, instead of with petrified old age'; hear what I have done, and judge whether I have set to work without earnestness. But do not forget I know no higher duty than that of Truth ; whenever and wherever Truth meets me, I am her slave. The appearance of success is indif- ferent to me, and the fame of being a renowned worker in the vineyard of the Lord would be a torment if purchased with my conviction. Yesterday, just as my uncle had gone at his usual hour to the col- lege which adjoins our house, my cousin Benjamin, Avho has left boarding school only a few weeks, came mshing into my room. His father, not wishing to educate him himself, for some reason unknown to me, had let him grow up in rural seclusion among lads of his own years. Perhaps he feared the influence of a city. The young man is now to study theology under his father's direction, and become a Rabbi. This is the father's wish ; as to the son's you will learn from the following. " Samuel," he exclaimed, slapping mq on the shoulder, " I liave two tickets ; come along quickly, the old man has gone out' "What are the tickets for, Benjamin? " " For us, of course. Where is your hatt Come, the curtain rises at six, and it is already half-past five.'' " Benjamin, you know your father does not like you going to a theatre?" " He need not know it, dear Coz ! " " Is that right, Benjamin ? " Now say yourself, Samuel, is there any sin in seeing a good piece? Ought I to starve because my father does not feel hungry? I am no longer a child. Besides, he has never forbidden it to me." 30 LETTERS OF A MISSIONARY. " But it does not liarraonize with your future profession." '• All the more reason I should enjoy the present. Come, I have given my word to be there." *• To whom ? " "To her." " Who is she ? " " Well, Julia. She plays to-night, and would never forgive me if she did not see me in the box." '■ Benjamin, Benjamin, you will be sorry for it " "Goon, Mr. Preacher!" "When your father learns " " That he was eighteen years old once ? " " Peace, cousin ; let us talk earnestly. Do you love that girl ? " "That is a conscience-question, Mr. Father-confessor.'' " And one which demands an answer." "Well then, I believe I do." "And what is to be the result? " He stared at me with his handsome hazel eyes. " Will you marry her ? " He bm"st out into loud laughter. " Really, Samuel, you are a funuy fellow. I marry ? And an actress ? " " Why not, if she is good and virtuous ? " " Well," said Benjamin, walking self-complacently up and down, "I have never thought of that." "But then you can never become a RabbL" " Never, never ! Shall I bury myself alive like my father ? I wish to enjoy my life.'' " Cousin," I said, looking at the clock, " it is time for evening sei-\-ice." " Why do you not pray then 1 " " Because I do not think it right to bind myself to times and forms." " Tou have uttered my own most secret ideas," he exclaimed. " Up till now, I could do as I chose. Our teacher in the country was old, and we were too big for him to manage ; and here I find I have to begin the old nonsense over again." " But your father, Benjamin 1 " " I love and honor my father, but I am a free agent. He is good and noble, but narrow-minded. Because he has grown accustomed LETTERS OF A MISSJOSARY. 31 to the old rusty armor, must I creep into it too 1 I will live accord- ing to my age, will learn and enjoy, but will not yield to worm-eaten observances, which are worn-out and no longer suited to the times." Had not the spirit of the age breathed over our Benjamin's secluded rural solitude tool What lemained for me to do here? Was he not already one of us ? " While I can not find fault with your views," I answered, " I wonder that you can find peace in such a contradictory state." He looked at me in astonishment. " If you feel yourself free," I con- tinued, "and yet go with the yoke around your neck, are you not then a hypocrite 1 Are you not deceiving your father, and, what is worse, that Supreme Being whom you pretend to reverence and yet mock ? " "But what shall I do, Samuel'?"lie replied, uneasily. "Advise me what to do." " Either not to tread that path, or to follow it to the end." " Hush ! " he said, pointing mysteriously to a small cuitain on the wall. I had often noticed it before, and thought it concealed one of those little windows that are to be found in old-fashioned houses. " What is it, Benjamin? " He glanced ai'ound, opened the door to see all was clear, and then quickly pushed a chair to the wall and drew back the cuitain. A bright boy s face gazed at me with scintillating eyes, from a dark walnut frame. " Who is that ? " I asked, sui-prised. " Hush ! " and he let the curtain fall again over the picture. " That is my elder brother : he is an apostate. His name may never be mentioned in this house. Only once a year, on the great Atonement- day, is that picture uncovered ; he himself dares never see his father's face more." I stood as petrified. "And now," said Benjamin, with the happy gayety of his years, "now, Samuel, it is time. Let us start immediately, lest I incur the displeasure of my queen." He drew me with him, and I acquiesced in order to increase my influence over him. We went arm in arm to the theatre. " I say, do I look Jewish ? " asked Benjamin on the way. " What difference does it make 1 " " Firet answer my question." 32 LETTERS OF A MISSIOSARV. " Well, you have, it is true, the curved nose and the dark color of our race, but in your manner there is a certain '" ""Well?" 'I know not how to call it : perhaiis self-consciousness, which deceives the observer." " And by Jupiter, I mean it too. I detest carrying the stamp of the race on my forehead. " '• Benjamin, what do you mean ' by Jupiter ' '? " " Pooh, I do not want to be taken for a Jew. Every man is taken at his own price, but we are condemned at the first glance to be con- sidered as spurious coin. With all others, jjeople wait to see whetlier they prove of noble or base metal : we are marked and stamped beforehand." "You are unjust, cousin." " I wish I were," was the bitter reply. " Consider our social life and judge for youi-self. The Christians either consider them- selves too good to associate with us, or they treat us with imjjertinent reserve. Look at the stage. There is not a farce in which a Jew is not held up to laughter and ridicule. I do not blame them. I shudder myself when I hear the jargon. But I can not avoid it : when I come home and see the old humbug being enacted with tlie most earnest mien in the world, and see my father, whose talents fit him for the highest honors, toiling along under the senseless yoke with all his dignity, I feel as if I should go mad."' '• I do not understand you, Benjamin. The hatred I can compre- liend : it is intelligible, at least. But the ridicule — what is there to laugh at? Is it founded upon the fact that the irreligious in their benightedness generally laugh at the religious ? Let them : should we not pity fools who ridicule what they do not understand ? "And as for our curious gestures and shocking jargon, are thev not the marks of their ill-usage and our own firmness under it ? They are marks that have maintained themselves through whole cen- turies despite foreign influence, and for that reason are venerated bv all true Christians." " Yes, yes, you are right," said the young man. " We are accursed whichever way we take it. Well, here is the theatre : let us forget who we are for a few hours." The theatre was brilliantly lighted, and filled with a numerous ami LETTERS OF A MISSIONARY. 33 genteel audience. We were in a small proscenium box, where we could survey both spectatoi-s and actora at our leisure. The acting is quite different from ours. The German player possesses, so far as I can judge, a sense of dignity which does not allow hira to exaggerate passion ; he knows how to embody the poet's idea in the appropriate manner, and is without that eccentricity which does not desert the Englishman even upon the stage. I can understand now, how, in a country which lacks public life, as well political as religious, worthy men seized the idea of using the theatre as a moral instructor. Except the pulpit, this is the only place where a man can address his fellow-citizens, even though it be only through the mouth of a third party. But then, how must he disguise, ay, distort, what he has to say, in order to give it a presentable form, nay, in order that he may obtain permission to say it at all ! " Occupied with these thoughts, I had paid little attention to my companion, who seemed to follow the tragedy with rapture. It was Schiller's " Love and Intrigue." " Samuel," he said at length during a pause, " do you think poets tell falsehood ? " " I think they do," I answered, smiling. " For shame ! " he replied. " You do not mean to say that what drives that innocent couple upon the stage to destruction, while hundreds here watch their fate with beating hearts, is all sheer non- sense, invented by the sportive poet as a sort of airy phantasmagoria, a /ata morgana, deception without any substance ? Is not love a high and holy sentiment, worthy to rule over our lives ? " " Certainly," I replied, touched. " Love is the highest and most powerful agent on earth and in heaven — but " " You confess it yourself ! " he interi-upted. " You, whose courage and zeal father holds up as an example to me ! Oli ! why is that religion of Love and Grace not truth ! How joyfully would I then accept it! " " Who says it is not truth ? " I exclaimed. " What, do you believe in it, Samuel ? Oh, then I see, the old hallucination can not longer exist : we have outlived ourselves. The eyes of the young generation are being opened, and they hold to the ancient ideas only out of respect to humanity. But is it right, dear Samuel, that our elders should exact from us this sacrifice 1 " " As long as we are not quite clear inoiir new ideas, certainly iti.s.'' 3 34 LETTERS 01'" A MISSIONAUV. " Yes," lie said sadly. " Quite clear — that is it. Alas ! why is the most beautiful system of faith interwoven with sucli nonsensical dogmas ? " "Nonsensical, Benjamin '? But stop, tliis is not the place for such discussion." " Yes, it is ! " he cried vehemently. If you can give me truth, any time and any place is proper. But perhaps it is better we go out now. Come, I am tired of being held on the rack by all that intriguing yonder ; they ai-e going to poison each other, I know all about it, and the audience \vill go home melancholy." We left the theatre and went into the streets, which were as empty as in the early morning at home. " Now, Samuel, I adjure you," said my cousin passionately, " do tell me, without reservation, the true state of -your mind, your honest ooii- victi(m. Do you really think the Christian religion better than ours ? " I had too often considered this question, not to be ready A\'ith an answer. "Are you a just man, Benjamin?" I asked. " What do you mean ? " "Do you consider yom-self, asking your own conscience, a just man as our Law demands of us ? " " I am but a worm in the dust ! " he answered agitated ; " wlio is just before God ? " " If justice then can not be acquired either by good deeds or by cere- monies, it is a dream, a delusion, and there is nothing left but grace." "Yes," he repeated, " there is nothing left but grace." " And who is gracious but the Eternal Love ? " " Yes," he said softly, " the Eternal Love ! That is a sweet reflec- tion, Samuel. Love preserves me, preserves the whole universe. Love permeates all beings and winds itself, like a holy chain, round aU the children of earth ! " " But, Benjamin," I cried, terrified at the outcomiug of his ideas, " Love is personified by the Deity ! " " Who is this Deity, Samuel ? Do you understand that curious mysteiy ? " " Understand ? Do you understand love 1 Would it not be a mira- cle if it could be underetood t Religion is not the subject of reason : we must believe, and belief is happiness." " Does it really bring happiness f Where is it to be had then 1 " IJiTTERS OF A MISSIONAKS. 3o '■ It brings it sometimes, I know, and faith itself is said lo be an clTusion of the Divine grace, which uccords it to him who yields him- self to it entirely.'' "Well, I can not help it," he said, " but I can not get over this point. It seems to me ridiculous, that I should beg God to grant me faith in Himself! Why do I pray to the Deity if I had not already faith in Him ? " " Did you ever comprehend a new foreign language.' I asked, •• all at once, or did it cost much labor and tedious study? "Will you seek then to penetrate this highest of all matters in a few minutes ? " " You are right," he answered. " But the t/u-ee Gods ? " " Fool ! " I exclaimed. '• Dare you repeat the words of the mock- ers % The Christians believe in one God too. That is exactly the greatest miracle, that this God assumed human form, and in order to gave them, bore their sufferings, and " ".Stop ! " he cried. " You are blaspheming, Samuel ! Sin not .igainst the name of the Most High \ When you tell me that God is all-embracing love, I have some sort of idea of what is meant, though perhaps, not a clear conception ; but when you say that that Eternal Being, who is enthroned on the glittering icebergs, and at whose breath oceans tremble ; that the Infinite, who extends through the loftiest empyrean, and before whom our earth is but a grain of sand ; when you tell me that He was born, a naked, helpless infant, of a mortal M'oman, I tell you, Samuel, you blasjpheme your God I " Do you give an answer to that, my father ! I was speechless before the boy, whom I had not credited Avith such depth of religious feel- ing. My heart commenced to beat uneasily. " Why are you so silent, Samuel ? " he asked after a pause. " I am thinking whether you can be right, Benjamin, when I see how the general opinion of all civilized nations is adverse to yours. They have all accepted Christianity : is that only accidental ? Why has not one of the intelligent Indo-German nations taken another course ? It is only among these that we see a steady, undeniable pro- gress : the boasted civilization of the Arabs has stopped short sud- denly. It is only among the former race that order and higher morality jjrevail, while Heathendom — look only at India and China — is on the verge of dissolution, and Islam has outlived itself. Chris- tianity, on the other hand, spreads and grows mightier every day ; ■ub LETTERS OF A MtSSIONARY, besides Europe, America and Australia own its sway, and even Asia begins to yield before it. A short time yet, and it will rule over the whole earth ; and is not history the verdict of God ? " " That I grant," replied the young man. " I accept these facts and their conclusions, but pray do not speak to me more of those old women's tales. Love and Grace shall be my JEgis. And now good night, Samuel." " Good night 1 " I exclaimed, astonished. " Are we not going home together? " " Not to night," he said hesitatingly. " I have long begged her for a token of her affection, and in vain — but to night — she — she — in the theatre she sent me this key " " Cousin," I said eaniestly, " do not go ! Think of virtue and come home with me ! " " Which virtue ? " he replied, laughing roguishly. "You are a mocker,"' I exclaimed, angrily, "and I will have n,otli- ing more to do with vou ! " "Not SO angry, cousin of mine. Tell me, Samuel, have you not yourself just been preaching love ? I want to know now "what love is ; let me ascertain it practically ; you just extolled eternal Grace as the law of the universe, well, I want to claim some of it. Is not the repentant sinner more welcome than the upright who lias not sinned ? Let me go and sin then, repentance will come at the proper tima Good night, dear Coz." Was he mocking, was he in earnest ? I know not. I hastened after him to detain him, but he had disappeared in the darkness and the winding lanes. There you have what I have achieved. I am in my chamber ; it is late, but I do not care to go to bed, so I am writing to you. My heart is heavy in my bosom. Why did you lay this load upon nie, father 1 Give me back my freedom ; I am too weak to bear the fate of these people : I can not support myself. I had covered my wounds, forgotten them, thought them closed, and now they open again and burn worse than ever. I should like to steal to the door, unheard by any one, slink away from the house, disappear as if I had never been here — if I could thereby eradicate the traces of my presence. O father, I am not the man you hold me to be ; I sink under my task, my vei-y heait rebels against me, and every minute I am alone, it lETTEKS or A MISSIONARY. 37 racks me with hideous torture ! Yes, I will': to-morrow I will go to tlie Rabbi and tell him a liypocrite has forced himcelf into his house, that deceit has glided under a sp^^cious mask to his fireside, and poisoned the jn-aoc of its noble occupants. I shall sink to the ground in shame and confusion, but I shall have satisfied my conscience. Cursed be Truth, if that be her fruit : I will be simple as the dove, but not cunning as the serpent. And therewith I quit the service of Him who I thought sent me : I am not suited to perform his behests ! The neighboring chuvch-tower strikes two. Benjamin has not come home yet. I am excited and dread to go to sleep, for fear of bad dreams. I will look among my papers ; perchance I may find something there to soothe me. A carefully sealed bundle comes into my hand. They arc the let- ters- of that woman who loved me as much as any woman ever loved man ; and I have forsaken her. Why does not my heart beat violently, and why do I feel no sense of compunction ? I thought I loved her, and as I told her so, she swooned. It was a lie ; I did not love her. From, that hour, our intercourse was purely conven- tional ; I made the bitter discovery that I had adored an idol fash- ioned by my own hands. She lived only in me, beautified what I Iield beautiful, rejected what I despised. But the chord that vibrated 60 loudly in her, roused no echo in me — cursed be that lie ! Truth, truth ! is she nowhere to be found ? I drove the poor girl from me, I even prefen-ed being cruel, to being a slave to a lie. I knew she would have no word of reproach, that she would take her fate as deserved, ay, would bless the hand that dealt her death-blow, because it was mine — and I drove her from me. My heart is full of grief and melancholy : if there is aught of vanity in it, may the Almighty's thunderbolt shatter me ! Malediction on that love which plays such part in your poems, your drama and your novels ! The men who are alone extolled as inspired by the Deity, feed our youth upon such stuff ; we repeat the words after them, believe them, live in them. We grow up and desire to make a trial ; our young senses, "wearied of mere ideas, demand reality. Then the deception Avith which the ciiiel poets have plied us, becomes evident They have reversed nature. Man has disappeared from the Avorld and Venus is the earth's goddess. Adorn her ^^^th all the graces of your exuberant fancy, make her lofty, holy. 3S LETTERS Of A MISSION AKT. lay all your heart's longings at her feet, she remains a goddess, an idol, and if you translate her adoration into earthly language — a woman I They had bewitched me too, and blinded mc ; I too held womaii and her love to be the only desirable things in life. Do not all those who speak thus, and seem to live thus, know that it is a lie ? Why then do these wicked hypocrites, who possess expeiience, babble to each other, and allow the innocent to run into the snare and perish t. Out upon this abominable life of ours ! It is corrupt, it is rotten : animal propensity is deified, while Nature's lofty aim is ignored. Wearied by the emptiness and sterility of sentiment, man seeks trutli in sensual enjoyment, and the maiden, stripped of veneer, lowers her- self to a degrading hunt after a husband ! I am standing now by the window, gazing long into the peaceful night ; surely a portion of its peace will enter my troubled heart Just outside the window there is an apple-ti-ee, and as the night breeze sighs softly through its branches, silently and steadily it w progressing toward its appointed aim, and develops in dutiful sub- servience the gifts the Almighty has endowed it with. It bears fruit which others consume, and even if you do not take them from it, it retains them not. The fierce sun scorches it : it waits patiently for the cool night. Then winter comes and strips it of its leafy finery, and it stands there like a worn-out broom the servant has thrown away. Snow heaps up on it and the frost gnaws its bark. In pain it shrinks together, and its life seeks shelter in the roots in the dark eartli. There it stands, hoping, longing for spring that shall melt the ice, and bring the warm sun to shine upon it, causing the sap to mount in plenty to its branches that shall spread themselves joyfully with I'enewed courage, with renewed strength. And shall I not hope too ? And will not He who hath implanted in me this fervor for Truth which has made me renounce all peace — even Avhen I laid my head on her supporting shoulder. Thou didst affright me and drive me thence ! and I have sacrificed all — and naught remains ! I am standing bewildered, as if my heart were broken ; but I will bear the apple-tree in mind that waits for its winter to depart. I too will wait for my winter to pass away. O God ! let me not pariah by this chilling frost meanwhile, and let me be convinced at least that there is a glorious spring-time, even if I do not live to see it ! LETTER VII. Novr.Mi'.Ki: St'.t, I80-. You fear iny unreflecting impetuosity, and warn me against despairing of success too readily. You remind me that I must be prepared to encounter obstacles, and point out the tendency of over-sensitive natures like mine, to torture themselves with scruples and uncalled-for qualms of conscience. All this I have i-evolved in my mind, and decided not to give up the struggle spiritlessly. The bright morning had dispelled the night's dark delirium. As I opened ray eyes, I noticed that the sun was alreadj- high in the heavens. Its rays can shine into the courtyard onU' in summer, and we are having, they tell me, an unusually early winter ; it is colder now than in England in January. I jumped up, not without a sense of pleasurable anticipation for the day. My studies, my uncle's con- versation, and Rachel's chats afford me much enjoyment : I begin to love life again. Truly, I was silly last night, very silly. Wh\- look at a youthful folly with the same eyes as ata funeral 1 Who in his time has never been captivated by some pretty face ? Is it wonderful that a pretty child should look with favor upon an impetuous youth 1 Who would have been foolish enough to repel her? Is it not a wise old saw, that just those who have been most virtuously and most secludedly brought up, yield most easily to temptation ? " It is better to acquire experience early than late," I said to myself as I dressed. In spite of these sage reflections, the more I pondered upon tho agitation of the night, the more steadily I experienced a feeling of uneasiness in a little corner of my heart, without being able to assign any specific cause for it. The truth was, I did not even care to try to ascertain it ; I left my room to go and see after my cousin. I knocked sever'al times at his door, but obtaining no answer, I 4 J LETTEKS OF A MISSION" ART "went in. " Hash," said the old servant who was kneeling bci' 're the stove, mating the fire, " Master Benjamin has not woken up yet. '• I will wake him then.'' " Xo, not yet. A little sleep is always wholesome." " Indeed ? " said I, '• then I will wait,' and I sat down ou the edge of the bed, and watched how the o!d woman split the wood — they use wood here yet ! — with trembling hands, and pushed it cauiiousiy into the black tile-stove as if the pieces "would break, so gingerly. " Say, Taube, it must be tnie what people say about yon. that you and this young man are very close friends." "Of course it is true -"and her -wrinkled face strove to laugh, whereby it did not at all improve its beauty. "There you sit oa the gi ouni for half an hoar, and take such care not to make a noise, in order that this hizybones here, who ought to have been up long ago, shall not be disturbed, and when you come *o call me, you shout like a licensed vender." '■ But then he is only a child yet, Mr. Samuel I " "■ A fine child indeed I " said I ; " just look at him." In truth he was a handsome fellow. He had half thrown off the feather-coverlet which is in general u-^e here, and Ids bare breast seemed well fitted to bear his massive head. Beneath the high fore- head, his eyes were closed aad vailed ail within; his delicate cheeks were slightly flashed, and around his mouth there played a sweet line as of Love and Pity. The old woman rose lightly and walked on tiptoe to the bed. where she raised the falUng pillow and covered her favorite with sdl a mother's tenderness. '• He likes old Taube too," she whispered to me, nodding confidentially all the while. " They all are very good toward me : Master, and Miss Rachel, but he is my own, own sonny. And my poor dear mistress too. God bless her, he was the apple of her eye. You see he w;vs a weakly child, and his dear motlier never slept a wink the fii-st thi-ee years with him. He was restless and cried, and then she would get up and walk up and down with him till he was quiet again. At last she grew weak, "weak enough to drop. But the child throve well, and she recavered too. "Well, it was a Sabbath morning ; she "mis a very religious lady and never missed shool ( synagogue) on a Sattirday ; she was sitting in tlie front room, putting on her handsome yellow silk dress, and I was standing LETTtKS OF A MISSION AKY. 41 there helping her— I shall never forget it as long as I live, it seems to me as if it were to-day — ^there comes the postman and brings her a letter, and as she glances at it and lays it aside, she sees it is the handwriting of her eldest son, who was then — ^letmesee — yes, fifteen years old. She began to tremble all over, and because it was Sabbath, she asked the postman to 0|>en it for her, and he does so; she just looks at it like, and falls down like a log of wood, and I, more dead than alive, carry her off to bed, and there she remained. For sbc weeks she lay like a lamb, never stirring, and she knew it was her death-bed, for the greatest doctors couldn't help her ; but when they brought her child to her — it was Benjamin here " The good old creature wiped her eyes with her apron, and shuffled back to the stove, where she commenced to blow the tardy flame anew with all her force. I walked up and down the room, thinking, " There lies now that mother's care ; there he Ues with flushed cheeks. What is he dreaming about ; The strange woman's bright eyes fill his mind asleep and awake ; he has forgotten her who bore him in pain. She who had held him close to her all his life, lies now under the cold ground. She had the pangs, others have the pleasure. Oh ! sacred love of mothers! Unjust Nature! "W^e sow and others reap, and the fruits of life that support us, we dare not ask whether they were planted by fiiend or enemy. Before we reach self-consciousness, the ideas of the age form our nainds for us. We tnust — that is the final reason of things ! Therewith I turned around and stood suddenly before old Taube, who was about to leave the room with the water-ewer. She started and let the vessel fall with a crash. '■i€Wj.ff3eZ/"*stammcred the old woman, gazing ruefully on her feat. ■• Mazel tov! " was the echo from Benjamin's bed, with a hearty lanorh. " For shame, cousin ; is that the way you wake people up f " ■' I did it," said Taube, piteously. '• Nay, Taube,'' said I, " confess the truth, that I accidentally pushed you. ' '• Really now, did you, Mr. Samuel? " She looked at me puzzled. •• Yes, I tamed suddenly and struck your arm. And as I am the author of the mishap, it is only right I should remedy it," said I, and banded her a dollar. ~ Weil. I (icMic know." iii.a die oiJ. servant i^etziaj more pitzzL^; - jQtt ceruialv .iid tacn nm mtfi T^nr sadtieolTr sn..• so j>«ring. it is " *" Well, sj>eak out, man ' ~ ■" I: 15 not "vrortLy o: yon." aid lie east his eyes down. ~ Tl ou are right," I anitrered ; ~ it t« a bad habit." "■ \ ou see. S AmneL I kno\r not how it comes, biit I have more con- fidence in you than in aav other man ; I can open my very lieuit to yon, bat when T see that cmd, moddng smile around your mouth, words :^1 me suddenly, and I feel as if I could cry " Xow it was my torn to be toached. " Ton know, Benjamin," I said, ■• in foggy England we easily get the spleen, as you call it: that lie shook Jiis lieai ~ Xu, Samuel, it is not Ihst. Soiriet'ninj weigtis on yoo. w^hich yon tell no one. It frets me terribly when I ihink of it. and I often do, befciiise " "■ liecanse you are a fhnny fellow, and I have to drag everv word out of yon '. " "" XOj because I love you, Samuel' " " Sttrff; " I rejoined, ~ People do not love those wlicm thev do not know ■welL" " How can I Leip it," he exclaimed, as if eicusins: himself " At first I could t.oi hear you at all, cousin, you were so stiff and cold; but I use-J to be always thinking abont you. I was drawn to you : I stmggied agaicst the impuise : I passed your room-door twice and three times before I had courage to enter. But when I was there " ^ Benjamin, I ■would a.iow you to continue the catalogue of my shortcomings, if I were not afraid that you ^vonld catch cold. S-j make haste with your toilet, or I shall get angry," He obeyed. He washe>l in cold water, dried liimseit. arranged his wet hair and said with serio-comic air: — -• Behold, now my passion h:is passed. Xow I ara a sajje mao .again. Xesterday ^ " Xot a word, until you are dressed," He sat down, drew on his stockings, sighing, and said : — "' Tou are an nnmitigated barbarian, a raw beef-ste.tk '. " ^^ut; t^j 3ttk,e T««t i p. -^i <.;■:;. "%■ jitc "sr." ^ctt ia** ?"* t -Jay; - " i ■■•'v Sliac Ticu^ ; TWtl :■; - - ut r^^ fet : ■Iv < «B?««r, S«- ^.-Wtattt s'ltiectiii:^ "" ''^ i tt.v !'* wi"'-lc*". -'-(.;; "-."w i* is cfCt:",; oictcdy.^ ~ Howtaui tW nasjcwwr v.v;ue aAic :c-Jjiy f Hc>w- .-aa &*-i ciis: <;:■.:•_; ',■,.-_:•; — yes, lec are v-vaffss vijv ^i-t;is.--:<£ss — 1 ; ".'.:;.■._:".: of !j.-. ^.'-v I jcr-.-i'levi wicit, Iwr la dee LTtrdec ;'^:s-. s-f:-ar«r tiia: >■ ra; ,: "c: *; Ovtr teec. 30. k*?w ?"- ; ctve awta* ,-ber-Si>ev. bl-sscrji. Px"£i mr hi^tn: n-is i_;- ■ >»% Vtc sfca: :s ill \-c^ <::»», I: hjs ■-•-•■■-'■■vv. ..vld -; k . ioi v.vl..i ; ar:d yiC — ir^'I x«6 ik .,l.sc-^.er< ta.«»>«- :oc- How I irl*'j. icitte place a lirwk calax scotttj. 1 wouM nevic ch-t:'.:^ back. -ic--t-:'. .< j tfcj w« ia ube Gennao. I.KTTERS OF A MISSIONARY. 4.") fairy tale. Yes, it is an inliuinan wisii, but I fiiul my humanity gives mo a great deal of trouble. I obeyed that secret voice, I hardened my heart against the unhappy i;;irl — I had other things to do than to marry — foolish ! foolish! I am no farther now than thpn, and cer- tainly anything but happier! "Samuel," said Benjamin, laying liis arm round me in his tender manner, " my good Samuel, what is the matter with you ? " "Nothing, nothing, only woolgathering," I replied, starting ; " why did you not rouse me before ? It is not I'iglit that o\ir dreams should persecute us even when awake." " What dreams, Samuel ? " "Do not ask to know them, they will not amuse you." "But Coz, dear Coz, it is not for myself that I want to know your suiferings.'' " Well, old fellow, you shall know all ; dreams come from the sto- mach, it is said, and my stomach has certainly enjoyed leisure enough." " I am only waiting for you, Samuel ; breakfast is ready long ago, I dare say." " Yon surely are not going to eat anything, Benjamin ? " "Why not? On the contrary, you shall see I am going to eat a, good deal ! " "A lover, as a rule, never eats." " Then I am a lover against the rule ; I am almost afraid I am I " he aaid with a half-sigh. "Come along, Coz." LETTER VIII. November 15th, 1S5-. Whex I came lioiiie yesterday and passed by my uncle's door, I heard the low cantillation in which the Holy Books are recited. Struck with the sound I listened at the door. Yes, it was my uncle's voice. So enlightened a man, thought I to myself, shaking in^-^ head, and yet so behind the times. "Why can he not study Avithout speaking, and speak without singing? I entered. Uncle nodded to me to sit down, and continued his reading ; I took up a book and waited. It was a long time before he finished. I left off reading and listened. He had the German pronunciation of Hebrew, so that I could understand but little ; but I listened to the rough gutturals as in a dream. It seemed to me as if I were listening to some strange song — pardon the idea — a strange, mystic song that I once had heard and long, too long forgotten. The mournful, almost wavering, yet withal enei-getic tones sounded to me like some secret incantation, like some mystic spell containing the secret of my life. Alas ! who could solve it 1 Thus, my dear father, was your matter-of-fact son, who despises all sentimentality, moved by the mumble of a Talmudist holding forth, it may luive been, about some dietary law! Life is sober, father, very sober : let me be like the paujier who can not get wine, and seeks exitement in gin. The delusion, if a mere dream deserves this name, does not last long ! When the Rabbi has finished the chapter, he closed the folio, and replacing it among the rows of huge books which lined the walls, turned to me and said : " The sun has gone down, Samuel, and the cozy hour of twilight gives a little leisure. We have neither time nor inclination to take up any absorbing study just now, so we may as well chat about some of the questions you have asked me, especially as the children are not present." LETTEES OF A MISSIONARY. 47 " Exactly wliat I wish, dear uncle, so I will begin at once with one of the most opportune. How can a learned man, a thinker, like you, devote his life to work which evidently is only such in appearance, and be satisfied with customs and habits which have only the sem- blance of good deeds ? How can you contimie to perform ceremo- nies which your reason must long since have rejected, and how can you bo\y down before mere Talmudists, whose general education would not entitle them to be your scholars even ? " I i)aused then, for I saw clouds gathering on the llabbi's fore- head. " Have you finished your speech, Samuel ? " " Oh, I have a gi-eat deal more to say " "Samuel, let what you have said be enough for the present," he interrupted me, with a smile that brought a flush of resentment to my cheek. " Now hear me. I hold that man to be dangerous who has no prejudices : so I prefer retaining mine. Among them is one, that elders and teachers ought to be treated with respect. This weakness, I will readily believe, you, in common with the rest of our sage youth, have overcome ; but if you wish to hold intercourse with me, you must please feign it." " By heaven, uncle, you judge me wrongly ! " I exclaimed, seizing his hand ; " I may have en-ed in the form of my expression, but I cer- tainly meant no ill." " I believe you," he said, looking into my eyes ; " but hear me fur- ther, my son. Never deride a man's profession in which you see him working with all his soul. Never, never, when the derided one, like your own uncle," pointing to his head, "has grown gray.'' It might hapi>en that you were in the right, and then you would have ' shed the blood of thy brother ! ' " " Secondly, my son, do not hojie to take men's hearts by storm, with your English style of questioning ; commonplace people ask a great deal — that is commonplace. Your wise questioner, Samuel, neither presumes that he knows already what ought to be, nor does he demand point-blank. The experienced physician watches the sick man long before he pronounces upon his ailment. Thirdly, were we to talk about your doubts or was it mine ? Has my old brain deceived me, and have I transposed the pereons? " " No, no, dear uncle," I exclaimed, " and I will not leave you till 4'> LETTESS OF i M:3.5I0yi2T. yoa have pardoaed me for those prestun^no ^ tL jfiari^ ' -^ whicii earned me awa J ! " "Xou receive-i my pardon. Samael. as axm .x- roa ask&l for it. Bat enough no'W". let ns get to business-'" " Wdl, tmcle, tdl me if yoa do not think it prejudicial ttir we stigmatize as ntteriy ridicolo'is every attempt at convertKiz 'is ' Granted, of coarse, we hare the truth : bit if that is so cetfain thi: doabt thereof wooM transcend all reason, how 15 it there are sucb. ^eo^e as Christians and Mohammedaasf How sasjIx ei:i it be thoaght — and what other f^h does riot think =.; ! — thar tt Ls truth or ours avoids controversy because it f teas it, bicauge if snrsr p;or ir f "N'ot bad," said xmele, "not bad. let us see then what they wan". to do to OS : convot ns, is it not ? " ■• I bdieve so " " \dA OS consider thai in what this eonversoa consfets. Are the Jews to allow themselves to be eoavertei or tnraei to s-jmething that is quite different £ro!ii thar present prot-irty, or Ls diffa^nt oaly in degree! " "Different in degree only, of coai^e. LL-^muc-fa as Christianity is Judaism perfected." ^ The conversion then means, that we ire to accept 5 jioething additional ; and what may that be, pray ' ~ '^ The belief in Jesns, as the promise! Messiah ^ho reaSy came" " This is it then. In regard to Christianity, we stand in quite a different poation from other nations. These latter are to rec«^ve Something quite new ; bat with ns, it seems, t'ney only deare to alter oar house a little; baild another story on it. we might say.' '- Phrase it so, if you Kke." ^ Now then, if strangers desire to role in oor own house, we, as the owners who are most interested in its irelfere, have the ri^h: before all oth^s, to an opinion whether the prc'p-jse'i aiteraiioa be nece^ary or n<* 1 " " Certainly. But can not a man, as. for histance. the Irish pieasant. grow yj accnstomed to his madhot as to have to be forced to eicLaiLZi it for the clean and roomy dwelling that the landowner has bmlt for him?" " You mean, I suppose, the poor man is hangry, and does not know whether he is or not. And perhaps your Irishmar. is right in resist- LETTERS OF A MISSIONARY. 49 ing being made happy against his will. But enough of figurative language ; the question is then, about acknowledging as Messiah, a person long since dead " "Dead, uncle?" " Well, ascended to Heaven, if you Avill. True, it might puzzle you somewhat to say what that means. However, this story is a a pretty old one to the Jews ; and as they have not bethought them- selves of it in almost two thousand years, if I were a Christian mis sionary, I fear I should have lost all hope ; would you not too 1 " I was at a loss to reply and remained silent. "What does it matter that this aspirant for recognition is not acknowledged by the people he laid claim to % He has many other subjects. Do the great Mogul's Hindoos distress themselves because the Mongolians of Central Asia do not recognize their Lord in Delhi as the descendant of their own lame Devastator-of-towns ? But xis Jews they will not leave alone, as we live on, caring nothing for their new invention, satisfied to live under the same Deity as ever, jmd needing no other Messiah. He whom the heathens acknow- ledged, could not convince our fathers by word or deed. Are ye then mightier than he, and wiser? We, for our part, do not claim to be woree than our forefathers, and I would remind you of the pro- verb : ' When we were young, they considered us men : now we are old, they consider us children.' " " Uncle, you promised to examine the question to please me." " Well then, to please you. The question is, was that individual a Messiah or not ? First, however, we must agree on the meaning of this word. The great Rabbi Akiba declared Bar-Koehba, the leader of the insuiTection against the emperor Adrian, as you know, a Mes- siah, meaning a political liberator. On the other hand, the hopes of enthusiastic visionaries, like Isaiah, were directed higher ; they looked for a hero, whose superhuman might and virtue would spread bliss, love and justice, knowledge of the Loi"d, recognition of His holy name and of His people, among all nations of the earth. Which of the two conceptions shall we adopt ? " " I prefer a third. The view that makes of Messiah a redeemer from sin and eiTor ; the bestower, not of political welfare, nor indeed of teniporary welfare in any shape, but of eternal bliss." " Yes, yes, so the phrase runs ! " 4 LETTEKS OF A XISSIONAUY. " Do you not think the phi-ase stands for a reality, a possible real- ity?" " Perhaps for Christians, not for iis. We have, you see, no eter- nal purgatory, so we do not need a special provision for eternal bliss. You must choose between those two conceptions of Messiah ; they are the only Jewish ones ; as regards Iheir further development, you granted just now that that was our affair. Besides, it seems more than curious that strangers should claim to understand our national idea better than we : they surely can not feel it." " Feel an idea, uncle ? " " Yes, you will understand me better later. To repeat : in which signification are we to take the word Messiah V "If I take it in the Jewish sense " "Ty^you take it in the Jewish sense? Why, Samuel, did the doc- trine of Messiah arise among Jews or Heathens ? I grant you, the tropical i>lant, transferred into our northern climate, if it do not die, will become stunted, and acquire the features of a difierent genus ; but who wishes you to describe date-palms as they gi-ow in Italy, or orange-trees as we see them in Germany ? There is a cer- tain Christian theological professor, who has cut our whole history to the pattern of his idea of the Messiah. He proves to us that the idea of a Redeemer is a purely national one, brought with us out of Egypt ; but when the true Redeemer revealed himself in person, we Jews would not believe in him — we, the same Jews whom they blame to-day, after the example of the skeptic Horace, as the credu- lous people ^ar excellence. Strange that the oppressed bondmen of Egypt understood the idea of a Redeemer, and after a national his- tory of fifteen hundred years under the guidance of the Eternal, Avere so foolish as to deny what was before Jheir very eyes : and it was the same Redeemer, Samuel, was it not? " "I know not, uncle, what the Christian would answer you." " But if it was another, there must have been two Gods ! " " Well, yes, it must have been the same." "Good. Now if you, Samuel, were to go away ten years, on your return I should not expect to find you exactly the same. Change is the essence of every organism ; but my God must not change. He is the same always, just as the chemical elements are the same to-day as they were centuries ago. Do you not think so ? " ],ETT£KS OF A MISSIOXAKY. " I gfant it." "Well then. The Redeemer fi'Oin Egyptian slavery redeemed us indeed, and did not give ns words only. He released ns from exter- nal servitude, and made us mentally free by means of the Law which Moses handed down to us, and expressly as eternal ; for those who would alter it are condemned iu advance as false prophets. This Law our ancestors accepted of. their own free will, and vowed allegi- ance thereto. Since then, the Redeemer lias not disappeared from our midst; we have remained in constant intercourse with him through his servants the prophets, until the encroachments of Heathendom weakened our national strength, and the Lord no more aimounced his will to us dii-ectly. Then, in the time of the second Temple, our national mind took refuge iu letters and forms, for the Stranger loiled over us. Grecian splendor dazzled us, we admired their fine literature and their manufactures, their military art, and the order displayed in their system of government ; we gloated on Plato's Ideals and, perhaps, Avere not insensible to the beauty of their slaves. Enlightenment was the watchword of the times, almost as it is to- day, Samuel ; enlightenment, education, culture, civilization, you know the cant probably better than L Unfortunately only the rich, that j)recious ' peace-party ' of Josephus, could afford these Grecian pleasures ; for these superior luxuries demanded, for their support, the poverty of the few. The poor plebeians were still in the same position: they hoped for and believed in the Redeemer who had brought them out of Egypt, who had wielded Gideon's sword, and inspired the shepherd-son of Jesse; they loved the men who devoted their lifetime to His eternal commands, made the study of them their duty, and patriotically separated themselves sternly from Heathendom. They were therefore called Pharisees. " At last, through our latter Maccabee kings, through the Idu- means, and finally through Rome, there came unspeakable misery over our country. The same system that depopulated Italy, that drove the Gallic peasants into revolt, and against which Germany in vain waged a war of extermination, reigned in increased measure in Judea. In the other countries, those who wielded power were men : over us they set their slaves. It was another Egyptian bondage-: ask your Tacitus : a harsher suffering than we experienced from the Assyrians and Chaldeans. Louder and ever louder waxed the long- .Jl>, LKTTEBS OF A MISSIONAKV. ii)g of Isiatjl f.)r its Redeemer, for it knew yet it was under His pvo- tectiou. " If then, under these circumstances, any one appeared and claimed to be that Redeemer, the first condition would have been, that he should have appeared in liuman form ; for the people knew, from doctrine and from their history, that the Lord was a supernatural being who, to cany out His will, always made use of human instru- ments. It was strictly forbidden to limit the unlimitable, even through symbols: to find him in the narrow limits of a human being, required the inteqiretative power of a Hindoo oi- a Grecian priest. " The second condition of belief was the feat of deliverance from Roman tyranny. Through actual deeds we had been delivered from Pharaoh, from the Philistines, from the Chaldeans. We needed no other redemption : in our minds, we were free, like the Pharisees, the Separatists, from Heathenism. For the pious servant of the Lord exemplifies what philosophy sets up as the essence of freedom : without compulsion, of his own accoril, he obeys the dictates of high morality, the law to which, as recognized truth, he submits with affection. A Buddha, a caste system, prejudice of rank, and priestly arrogance, were needed neither by Heathens nor by Jews. " You know how the pretender fulfilled these conditions, how much he surpassed his predecessors in presumption, how much he fell short of them in actual deeds. How could we recognize the map who, in contradiction of our whole history of two thousand years, wanted to liberate lis from the Romans loith tcorcls; who preached nothing but humility and submission, which we had already tasted to the very dregs ; how could he hope to comfort a freedom-loving and enslaved people by erecting on their alreadv completed temple — a little Heathen turret? If now the descen- dants of the Heathens, who became mentally free througli our law, given to them in his name, demand of us that we should acknowledge him as our liberator, would it appear right to you ? Do you think it proper to summon the English, whose constitution we have adopted .through the medium of the French, to give up their original and .-accept our copy as the standard ? " " But how often, " I replied, " must theory be corrected by prac- tice.. Gas-lighting and railways were condemned by the most cele- LETTERS OF A MiSSIOSAlty. . 53 brated savants as idle dreams, until the despised mechaniciau illumi- nated the streets by night, and set the fiery locomotive rolling. So here too, perhaps the facts -will show, the world's history prove irre- fragably, to him who will open his eyes, that Messiah really has come, while we, in our imperturbable obstinacy, thinking that the world exists only for the people Israel, accuse all the civilized and enlightened nations who accept the Christian dispensation, of error; we, the infinitely small minority, the last remnants of a nation whose Etiff-neckedness even its own lawgiver bemoaned, while we do not read that he ever had cause to rejoice over the degree of tlieir enlightenment." " Go on, go on ! Do you too cast the stone upon the mother wlio bore you? But explain to me about the world's history. Do you assert that its results bear out the Messianic idea of the nations, and disprove that of the Jews ? " "I do." "But which history Jo you meauT The present or t1\e pastf " I know but one." " But an unlimited, an incomplete and vaiying one ; like a mov- ing panorama, or better still, like a giant river that flows on, now softly, now stormily, and passes through an ever-changing land- scape. Wherever you stand still and look back, jou sec a different picture. Above, in the mountains, the stream of melted .snow bursts from the glacier in foam ; lower down on the mountain side, it rushes memly along, a swift and joyous rivei', and then rolls slowly, as a broad fertilizing stream, through the wide plain. But it has not yet reached the sea ; has it? " "No one can assert that" "Then you see, I was right to ask you wliich portion of the river, or i-ather, of history, we were to examine. I think you would • scai'cely be satisfied with some portions ; or would you accept the idea of the Middle Ages as your own ? " " Perhaps that same idea was not so very wrong after all : it was narrow, but extremely simple ; fanatical, but conscientious." " I see you defend your ground like a good general, step by step. Permit me then to give you just a small example of that extremely gimple and conscientious idea. It is only one of a thousand sueli. Is not that Joinville's chronicles yonder ? " ;>4 LETTERS OP A MISSIONARY. I liauded liim the book. After he had turned over a few leavea, he gave it to me open, and I read • '• Aussi vous di je, me diet le roy, que nul si ce n'est grand clerc et theologien parfait ne doit disputer aux Juifs, mais doit torn inelay quand il oit mesdire de la foy chretienne defendre la elwse, non pas seulement deparoles, mais d la bonne epee tranchant et en f rapper les maitdissants et m.ecreans a travers le corps tant qu^elle y pourra etitrer.'' "Thus spake the good khig Louis," said the uncle, as I was silent. " What surname did tliey give the man ? '' '■ The Pious," I answered, crestfallen. " And I remember a brave knight of the German Henry IV., I forgot whether it is in Bruno or in Lambert, gave an emphatic devel- opment of that worthy suggestion." "Perhaps it was only the fanaticism of the Crusades." "And before that ; let Gregory of Tours tell you how the Franks slaughtered those who would not be induced to become baptized ; or read in Thierry with wliat reasons the enlightened prelate strove to convert the honest merchant. " Let us remain here a moment, and do you tell me which side tl.e unprejudiced man should take. Enter the church of the Gallo- Franks, in which the holy saint Martin, the national god of the country, stands in all the glory of gold and silver. Watch how they fall do'wn, prosti-ate themselves before him in adoration, listen l;ow they call to that doll for help in their deeds of violence, and then, if you can, chide the oppressed son Israel, who -will not forget tlie command of Him who spake : ' Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.' Read how the cunning and silly ruler, to ascertain the will of the idol, writes a letter to it, and then reprove the Jew, who, enlightened by his Law, looks down with contempt and scorn upon such pious frauds. Compassionate your fathers as you will, but they alone were exalted above the despotism of the German and Scandinavian princes, who, besides political laws, imposed a reliori. ous conviction on their subjects. " Glance a'.ong the whole lengthy chain of the fearful thousand years which are called the Middle Ages, and tell me where a lover of truth and justice, of mental freedom and morality, dared bid the Jew, 'Embrace this religion, it is purer than yours: join these men, LETTERS OF A MISSIONARY. 5o they ai"e better than you.' For what could the unprejudiced Chris- tian say to us? Something of this nature. 'Come to us: it is tnie we have never ascertained the truth of our faith ; indeed, we can not read, and our holy books are therefore sealed to us; but our priests assert they have the truth, and since they possess superbuman influ- ence, belonging as they do to an institution set up by Heaven, called church, about Avhich it is true we know nothing, therefore we must not only believe them, but obey all they command implicitly. Come to us, for as we are allowed to practice all sorts of vices and excess, you will certainly live more agreeably among ns; they say our God is love, and bo we shall not lack pardon when it is needed. " 'It is true our priests tell us, that for those of us who do not obey his will, which, however, we do not know, God has pi'epared a place called "Hell," in which he makes erring mortals suffer excruciating tortures for the myriads of years of eternity, and all for the sin of a moment, ay, even for the sin of being born an infidel ; and it must be true, for a great many travelers have seen the entrance to those infernal regions of torment in Ireland" with their own eyes. But see now how well we are provided: our priests possess the power of closing these gates of agony, and opening those of Heaven : so if ^ve are on good terms with the priests, we need not fear the Hell of our God of Eternal love. Let us then make this short life of ours as meriy and as carnal as we can ; when we get old, and our senses are too blunted for any more enjoyment, then we will go into a monas- tery and turn our back forever on the sinful world. We will make our daughter a nun, and let her pine away her young life; wo will compel our son to pass his days uselessly as a monk. It is tnie, this is sacrificing our children to Moloch, but then wc escape punishment thereby. Or perhaps we will offer gold and property, for the kind priest will take with equally ready hand our money as well as our children, and then he pronounces us guiltless again, and gives a document signed and sealed, entitling us to a future life of bliss, so that howling old Satan will flee before his otherwise certain prey, with fear and trembling. Well, Jew, do you still hesitate? ' " And if he did hesitate, did pause, Samuel ? For in him resounded the voice of the Lord : 77iou shall be nvj holy people, for I, the Lord thy God, am holy! Thou shall not serve other gods, thou shalt not. commit adidtery, thou shalt not murder — if lie remembered that he 50 r,!:TT::RS of a missiosaky. pei-sonally had inherited from liis father the obligation of observing- this covenant witli the Most Higli, the sign of which he bore on his body — if he sliuddered at the sin and madness of handing over his conscience to the priest, and being driven like a beast into the herd of the heathen — if he thought of all this, you know what followed then, Samuel? Oh! then there were other signs and tokens to convert these obstinate infidels, the deniers and murderers of the new god : there was fire to burn, water to drown, the rack to torture ! All these pious instruments did they employ on our fathers with no sparing hand : they burned thousands, drowned, slaughtered — and the I'emnant they hunted, chased through Europe, and expended all the resources of their inventive power to humble them in thoir own eyes. Yes, the learned and very deep Middle Ages used a"l their hollow wisdom and savage cruelty to teach the Jews a bettor creed ! True, you may say, What folly it was for the wretches to set themselves against the tide of history, how presumptuous, even if confident of their own right, to dare brave the whole world: '' "No, uncle, a thousand times no! " I cried, unable to restrain my- self, " the glory of those martyrs shall not be belittled ! How many are there in antiquity or in Christian times, who have been brave enough to suffer torture and death for the Truth, and here there is a whole people Avho liave accepted martyrdom from pure conviction, and have not relinquished tlie Truth, because it was the Truth ! O uncle, you give me new lift! ! Am not I descended from these heroes too ? Surely their blood flows iu my veins, and I should be unworthy of such high lineage were I not capable of appreciating what they did, even if I do not yet know whether I have the power to imitate them ! " " So then it appears, ' said uncle, " you are ready to pardon the Jews of the Middle Ages for relying on eternal felicity, without pos- Bessing a chip of the Holy Cross, or a hair from the beard of some apostle ? " " I admit, and every enlightened Christian must admit too, that however debased Judaism may have been, it was infinitely to be pre- ferred to such idolatry. I will surrender these Middle Ages, and confine the results of history to the first two and the last three cen- turies of Christianity." " You can scarcely call a people debased, Samuel, that produced UETTERS OF A MISSIONARV. 57 at that very epoch Buch distinguislied thinkers aad poets, whose works have become models for our modern times ; however, let us not wander from the discussion. '•That is afunny idea of yours concerning 'the results of history, 'as you phrase it, or historical proof: what is true to-day is false to-morrow. According to you, then, in the first two centuries the Jew ought to have been converted, because indisputable Truth was oifered him ; but see how soon the converters fell to fighting violently about impenetrable mysteries, and shed streams of blood to decide the question whether pictures should receive adoration or not ; so that the acceptance of their doctrines was scarcely to be recommended to the Jew. It is true these doctrines were only a little obscure for just the small space of thirteen hundred years ; but you must confess that a species of truth that can so fully become falsehood, to say the least, is sus- picious, and that I ought not to be blamed for fearing that perhaps after these last three very enlightened centuries which you laud so highly, yet such another period of obscurity may occur in Christanity and debase it far below the lowest phase of our simple Judaism ; so that my great-grandchildreu will have scant cause to thank me for having been the means of their receiving the new dispensation." " Do you not grant that humanity, as a whole, always progresses ? " said I. He nodded affirmatively, and I continued : " If then retrogression ensues, it is only apparently such. Now ought I to stoj) on the low- est spm-s of the Alps, because I can not get any higher toward the summit of Mont Blanc from the peak of the Rigi, but must descend and cross many a deep valley, and many a lofty crest besides, till 1 reach the greatest Alpine height? " "Well, you are right so far, but you should confine )our progress to siuo'le organizations ; in our case, to people and men in general. Ideas and institutions are diflierent things, or would you i)erliaps maintain that whatever is later in point of time, is better tool Christianity better than Judaism, Islam bettor than either, Mormoiiism than all T Shall we say so ? " " That would be evidently false." "Let us examine your historical proof then a little furtlier. Let us consider what we are more entitled to judge: the later centuries. In those first two, when everything was only in course of develop- d8 LETTERS OF A MISSIOSAUY. ment, we will allow, there we can not speak of liistorical results. In the Sixteenth Century then, the Jew ought to have recognized the newly-risen star. His brethren, just driven out of the Iberian peninsula, and perishing with hunger and pestilence, made powerful preachers of the wonders of loving Catholicism. And I am sorry to say, the Protestants were not any more humane. I will say nothing of Luther, nor of those two centmies to which the bai-barisra of the Middle Ages yet adhered. Dared the down-trodden 'serf of the the Emperor,' as the Jew was called, demand that the nations should respect the man in him, simply because they had at length actually dared to shake off the authority of a man in Rome ? No, let us look only at the last centuiy. See with what praiseworthy pains the good town of Frankfort cooped up its Jewish inhabitants in the close Ghetto, shut out from light and air! Again and again does the worthy Seume ask the reason ; — • They would obstruct the streets ! ' 'inconvenience Christians!' etc. They can give no other an- swer." " But was that not an exceptional case perhaps ? " '• You will find the same obloquy in every other possible form. I will not reconnt that past history to you : it is better you remain ignorant of it." "Then I must allow the Protestants, too, acted most unchristianly toward their Jewish brothers, and that they deserve more censure than the Iroquaws and Jagas, whose religion does not enjoin the love of neighbors. But is it the proper way tD estimate the degi-ee of cul- ture of the nations when Ave make ttieir treatment of the Jews the measure ? " " We may not be so very wrong in doing so ; but you are right to remind me that we should not remain on the consideration of past troubles; perhaps I have already du-elt upon them too long for the aim of our disputation. Indeed, I Jiave always admired the wisdom of our fathers who never gave ns any accounts of their suffering among the strange nations. They bore their distress as sent by God, without revengeful feelings toward their oppressors, and when the chains were lightened a little, they gazed with thankful eyes upon the relieving hand. Thus we have grown up without any inborn prejudice against our fellow-men ; in our youth, when love and hatred take deepest root, we feel ourselves their brothers, until our later life LETTERS OF A MISSIONARY. .>'.) teaches us to restrict this feeling somewhat. But let us resume : what led you to single out the last three centuries'? " " Is it necessary to point out the sun 1 One ■word suffices : the ' Jieforniation.' " " Hm ! that sun of yours, my friend, for many a year has blazed "with somewhat diminished brilliancy : another comet or so would gi-eatly aid it. Since I now am totally unable to see it, you must be good enough to point it out to me. I will tell you all I know about it. A number of Roman Catholic Christians renounced the authority of a priest over their reason and conscience, emancipated themselves from the most comprehensive and complete moral despotism that ever existed in the world, and which they had borne a thousand years. They threw off the authority of a man, to submit themselves to that of a book, the much-meaning " Word." They tried to fashion their religion anew, and selected from their former faith what they considered to contain true Christi.inity. Their leaders made no claim to be considered inspired. They shattered the enthralling power of Rome for ceitain reasons, that is, guided b}-^ common-sense, and it was reason that had to help them to build u;) again. Luther and Calvin would recognize only the Bible as the word of God, and yet the Bible is not sufficient for either. They have recoui-se to the Church Fathers and to Platonic Indian dogmas, of which the poor Evangelists knew not a syllable, and this system of faith, built ou such a foundation, they gave their disciples to swear by. " But, my son, let us leave it to the Catholics to sum up the sins of the Protestants ; to prove to them they have only the name of a religion ; that they accept tradition in practice, while they deny it in theory ; and that out of such opposite materials as criticism and dogma they have constnicted an untenable fortress : let us attend, as you desired, only to the results. Well, we see the English change their religion at the decree of their monarchs ; we see religion in Germany producing the dreadful Thirty Tears' War, in order that kings and princes might attain liberty of conscience: everywhere the victorioua party strives to teach tlie conquered by means of fire and sword. Then follow in Europe, and even in America, the shocking spectacles of trials for witchcraft — ^but excuse me depicting those to you. You know the facts as well as I do s you know all about the wars of con- quest and the traffic in human beings which disgraced the nilei-s of CO LETTEKS OF A JIISSIOXARY the Seventeenth and Eigliteeuth centuries, and the degradatiou and iVivoliiv of the ruled. You know how long it is that we can boast of the abolition of torture and of serfdom. No, my sou: the new life that iiows in the arteries of our modern times, my Avord for it, does not come from Christianity. The English Deists, who first sought the foundation of humanity, morality, and freedom in the sound common-sense of the masses, were decided foes of Christian- ity ; the French Eiicyclopiedia and the Revolution, the champions of 6uch ideas ou the Continent, actually strove to destroy that religion. The great philosophers and poets avIio freed the German mind front the bonds of pedantry, the love of imitation, of aping their neighbors, were diametrically opposed to that code, and stood upon quite other ground. He A\'ho ia acquainted with history knows indisputably, that enlightenment and toleration owe their origin to the restoration of learniug. Theological bickerings and absurdities nipped the opening bud of Science and Art in the P'ifteenth Century ; only when mei:, weakened by the so-called religious Avars, had unwelcome lei- sure to take up the work of that centurj- afresh, only then, I say, did the phantoms with Avhich the priests used to terrify the foolish mob, vanish in the light of knowledge, only then did humanity and phil- anthropy strike root in the hearts of the nations. And now your pious humbugs come and seize the fruit of the tree whose growth they had impeded Avitli all their might, and exclaim :— ' Behold now, the blessnig of our religion ! ' " "These are assertions, uucle," I said, moved " Assertions Avhich you must examine, my son, is it not so ? "Who would agree to that sooner than I? " " I will go now, uucle; I fear I ha^-e detained you too long." I Kiw for the first time that it had grown night, that I had been sitting in darkness without noticing it. " Well, we shall see you at tea this evening, Samuel ? " " Excuse me, uncle, I think not. Leave me to myself to-night." " Well, good night, my son." " Good night, imcle, good night." LETTER IX. November 2jTn, 185-. I HAVE not been out for several clays. I feel myself ill : would that I had never oomc here ! Why did I not take holy orders dii'ectly after my recovery, and go to some quiet fishing-village, and work among the poor and loAvly community for their welfare 1 I should have labored and rejoiced in my labor. I should have paid my adoration to my fetish and have been satisfied therewith ; I would have decked him gayly. And he would have rewarded me. Is it not all one in what absurdity men seek their peace of soul ? 1 ought to have known that an insane longingto reach the unattainable crouches in my heart, and should have been wise enough to slay the monster-passion, instead of making it my master by furnishing new aliment to it. I finished once, condemned my wisdom and swore by the words of others, for I could not go any further by myself. God ! my God ! Why hast thou made me so wretched ? I am thrown back to the old spot, and the treacherous bandage wherewith I had bound my wounds, and which the poor invalid thought contained an anodyne for the ills of humanity (was forced to think it such, in order to deceive himself as to his own situation), has rent into a thousand tatters, and he who sought to lead others, has proved to be a miserable crijjple himself! Xo, I will not believe against my better knowledge: it is a sin to pray for a faith that shall oppose my own heavon-boru reason. I am again in the old dilemma, but this time I Kill solve it if it cost O father! be not angr^- with me, have consideration for the unhappy one wliom an inward torture compels to lake liis own course which he loathes and fears. Indeed it is not your fault ! You worked for my welfare. The teachings of the religion whicli had given you happiness from your earliest years, you strove to instill into me again and again. My childish lips spoke the words as you 02 LETTERS OF A MISSIOSAKY. dictated them. I believed in you, had as soon repeated after you, Allah is God, and Mohammed is his prophet .' " But all this reK- gion remained to me as so many words, and never became part of my mind; at my confirmation, while I proclaimed ray belief in the Incarnation and the Trinity, in my lieart I doubted — oh, do not condemn me — I doubted the very existence of a God ! For the fundamental idea from on high which I had imbibed with my mother's milk, stood in such glaring contradiction to all the petty and useless wonders of your faith, that I began to grow confused even as to the existence of a Higher Being. I applied myself to Natural Science and soon became convinced that all miracles were either fables or tricks of the priesthood. For is not the Fetishman among the Negroes, or the Asiatic Shaman, ay, even the Catholic monk, as success- ful in producing them as that one in Syria, a thousand years ago t It is only in the light of science that these flowers of darkness fail to grow ! So I said to myself, " All is deceit and trickery." But when I walked alone of an evening and gazed on the stany splendor above, and tried to translate its magnitudes and distances into human language, I could not keep back higher promptings, and my lacerated heart felt it could not live without a God. " There must be a God ! " I said to myself; " for without Him the world would be an absurdity : I need Him, therefore He must be there." But how should I obtain information about Him ? He was the only one who could give me information about life's real aim. For I rejected all the positive religions as equally untrue ; I regarded Christianity with the eyes of the Jew, and Judaism with the eyes of a Christian : both the revengeful God and the One that died out of Jove, seemed to me equally senseless. The former Deity, who with wrath pei-secutes Lis creatures who had not made themselves, the latter God, above all conceptions of space and time, yet residing thirty years in a wretched human body! No, the God whom I felt. Him would I recognize, and therefore I rejected all others. I sought to discover the truth that lay at the bottom of all this deception, and this knowledge I hoped to obtain at the university. I sought eagerly, like many a bolder mind than mine before me. Alas, it was in vain ! With ardent zeal I waded deep in the works of philosophers, famous and infamous ; I hoped on, even if it were only to find a hint that should give me an indication of the right way. LETTERS OJ? A MISSIONARY. 63 Saddenly, and like a flash of lightning, I came across the words of Spinoza: — " Whence shall we perceive God, if not from His works?" What could be clearer, more practicable ? " Examine Natuie, Historj-, the world's economy !" I said to myself, " and you will find what you seek." But it was in vain. I could perceive no aim in Nature, in Political Economy no liberty, in History no law ; what philosophers tell about them, they have themselves invented at their study-desks. That was a fearful period : there is no describing my misery. The world was a confused medley to me: I knew not what I should do among men ; they all seemed to work toward a certain end, each one seemed to know what he wanted — I alone was dissatisfied and dis- gusted with all things. When I left my study, I walked about with my eyes full of teai-s for myself and for the insane, wretched world, until I reached home again, and gave mj'self up anew to solitary, sullen brooding. But in the reoesses of my heart, there lay the firm conviction that there was such a thing as Tmth, even if I was unable to find it. Perhaps another has been stronger or more fortunate : I will set forth and seek out the great unknown master. I traversed the greater part of Europe, wishing to study men at first hand, and no more from books. I fell in with the right school in France. I drank full draughts from the fountain of Skepticism, and intoxicated myself with doubting. Tired and wearied of my grumbling which never satisfied me and raised a wall, as it were, between me and the world of active life, I plunged eagerly into the flood of sensuality. I sought to intoxicate myself, fill up thereby that fearful void in my mind ; and when amid the carousals of my worthless boon companions, ray heart put the uneasy question to me, " What right have you heret " warned m.e that tny nature was difierent to thehs, that I had to live for other aims, I threw myself scornfully into a woman's arms, and exclaimed : " Here at least I have reality ! " I desired to live and I did. I emptied the cup of pleasure to its very dregs — and I found it as bitter as gall. Pleasure of the senses was just as unfruitful and as hollow as mental exertion, only more hurtful. I fell ill I felt my strength depart daily, and my nights were passed in ever wilder madness. At length, enervated, I sank upon a sick-bed, and thinking the time had come, journeyed home to die. 64 LETTERS or A MISSIONARV. I did not die, and I felt that I must live. Iq the first new strength of recovery I was ashamed that I had wished to flee from my post. '•Fool! " I exclaimed, " who wishes to be wiser than all the world ! Every one is satisfied with his portion of earth, and you seek to gain possession of Heaven. Yes, Ecclesiastes is right: — ^Themore know- ledge, the more care." It is folly to try to unite head and heart: if the former does not yield you satisfaction, the latter must be pacified at any cost. Then I bade you repeat your dogmas and looked for hope in them. Although they gave me no explanation of my life and of the misery of my fellow-mortals, and no consolation, yet they furnished me at least with a sort of calm, and then I smiled at the proud dreams of my youth, when I imagined to find in the world itself the key to the solution of its riddles. Yes, your plan of making me a powerful instniment for the convei-sion of my people seemed to me not with- out a meaning assigned by Providence ; a new light shone forth in me, I began to see a higher aim in my life, and through instructing others I might hope to instract myself too. But, O my father, why have you done this with me ? I am no hypocrite, and I am lost ! How dared I attempt to make men happy with artificial fruits, men who in their calm conviction stand there like mighty forest nionarchs? Foolish gardener, who desires to transplant an oak, a tliousand years old, to make it grow better ! Oh, scorn me not, for I am wretched ! Reason has asserted its ascendency again. And I laughed bitterly over the old-women's tales in which I had sought a pitiful shelter! But if it were only this — if I had only my own weakness to endure ! Here have I come in the role of a missionaiy, and with the conscience of a man. He who undertakes to tear friend from friend, son from father — he is right ! I have proved it myself: — he must have the heart of a sei-pent, and that, alas! I have not ! jSIy moral feeling predominates over all my book- learning about things divine, and where they come into conflict with each other, I do not hesitate before I shatter what I called religion ! Alas! my father, I am doing no good in this house : perhaps it will do me some : perhaps, perhaps ! LETTER X. Cak it be ti'ue, that mystery 1 True that wliicli we all know, and yet appear not to know? Nay, surelj- not, it is not true. So deep we have not sunk, to such a level the enlightened Indo-Germanio race, the one of all others fitted for progress, has not yet descended. I lead in the huge books how much we have achieved. We make the lightning our messenger, count the inconceivably rapid vibrations of the invisible Light-ether: can trace the formation and develop- ment of the tiny plant ovule in its matrix, and distinguish a hundred species of animalculse, a thousand individuals of which have room abundant in a water-drop : and we, my fatherly friend ? We, who straighten ourselves up before the simple savage in our vain ignorance, and say to him : — " Wretched being, dull sou!, unawakened by the breath of the spirit, loe are of other flesh than tliy flesh, our blood is other than thy blood." Can it be that these proud ones have not the courage to be true 1 Yes, that universal mystery is a lie/ We believe that the Eternal who fills immeasurable and inconceivable worlds with his existence, who awakens life in the depths of oceans and in the glacier ice: who has bound yon sparkling Sirius in his place and guides my poor body with patei-nal care ; we believe, I say, that this Exalted One, this Inefiable Being — abdicated the throne of the world for a time, and was born an unconscious, puny mortal child of a Jewish woman ! Who saw to it that the sun did not become extinguished, that the glorious orbs did not dash together in mad confusion and uproar ? For the Lord of the universe lay upon a cushion and bled : he had been circumcised — is it not so, my father, do we not all believe it, all? Yes! yes! Show me two men who say "}'es! " with me, and "yes," and ever " yes ! " Nay, father, we are not so dishonorable, from fear or from selfish- ness, as to deceive each other ; from pride, to plume ourselves boldly 60 IJiXXKKS OF A MISSIOSAKY. with a falsehood about which we laugh in our heart : we ai'e not so utterly unprincipled as to be indiffei-eiit to truth and endure evil with a slirug of the shoulders. No, we are not such wretched hypocrites. It is true that modern research shows that those writings on which we swear with our eyes shut, are tendency-tracts written at a com- paratively late period. "We gaze compassionately on those who trj' to pi'ove the Truth by means of a miracle that happened centuries ago ; but oh ! surelj' my fellow-men are not so base that they would assert against their better knowledge that black is white, and white black — they can not be so, do you not believe it 1 Surely not ; they can not swear things they hold to be untrue, because it Avould bring them gold and station ; they can not in misei-able courtesy dejjend upon a conviction in another's mind, when they know that conviction does not exist there — oh, no, my father, my fellow-men can not be so base ! No, the masses live on unconsciously, the world wags on, and why should the few sentient ones approach the breach ; for he who till now wielded the pick against the rotten building, tore down like a youth and not like an old m.au ! I know full well what the wise and good among the so-called Christians would answer me. "We grant that oar dogmas are unna- tural, ay, if you will, blasphemous : we know well that the Holy Trinity is a clumsy invention by priestly grace, and that it is an absurdity to speak of bodily children of the Almighty. But with these foolish conceits, the highest goods of humanity are closely bound up ; die purest virtue, trae morality on which society depends, were preached by the Founder of our faith ; if then we take away his authentication, what assurance have we that his teachings would not fall too? Let us therefore bear with those dogmas which aft«r all are harmless in themselves. Oui- code of morals is so inter- woven with them that it would be dangerous to attempt to tear one from the other!" All this sounds well and plausible, and there comes forward the allegoiy of the gold coin that could not circulate as pure and imalloyed metal, and then we are satisfied. We ? 1 wish I too could be satisfied with words, but I can not I can not do without God : he has become my All. Yes, more than society and morals — and slander Him I dare not, not even for the very highest aims. -Vway with the Jesuitical maxim that pobons our whole life! J.BTTKBS OF A MISSIONAKV. 67 Death to all falsehood: a struggle cannot injure noble Truth, it will only leave the battle-field more glorious ! And who will give me a guarantee that that morality of yours you say is so bound up with j'our doctrines, is really the true systcui you laud it to be? It may be that the Universal Mystery shall reveal iist'lf again ; it may be that we all do not believe in this truth, only appear to do so, perhaps only think we do so : may he too that appearance is allied with falsehood, and both are destined to sink into the grave. I shudder as I think of it, and trembling I lay down the pen, affrighted by my own thoughts! LETTER XI. December 15th, 185-. How glad I am, dear father, that I have some one to write to, some one to whom I can tell what my heart compels me to utter. Even if you can not relieve me of it, you help me to bear ray burden. I dare not tell mankind that they do not understand me, for fear of being ridiculed. It is evening and I am alone. Outside the suow is blowing through the air, the wind whistles and howls round the corners of the yard, and even agitates my window curtains. I am walking to and fro in my room, exulting like a child in the turmoil of the ele- ments: like a child, or like a fool. "Blow, ye winds and crack your cheeks ! " I could exclaim with Lear — ^but what right have I to com- pare myself to the grand old King 1 O fortunate time ! When it required the base deeds of two inhuman daughters and the plotting of an assassin-brother to heave the Avorld from its hinges ! We later ones are as dejected as the prophet-poet himself, on account of — a straw, a cipher: we know not ourselves what ails usi Cy IJ'.TTEliS or A MISSIONARY. " Rejiose and peace T' "Yes, i'e|POse and peace ! " I repeat to myself, and a sweet hope steals over me involuntarily ; but I have sworn by reality and ask myself scornfully, M'lio invented those silly "words ? Oh, it is enough to make a man raving mad to find his noblest innate impulses are only deceiving threads in the labyrinth, phantoms to amuse his fancy until his senses have become strong enough to slay his heart '. Father, let me whisper a word in your ear ; softly that no one hear it ; life has become a burden to vie : to what end all the toil and suffering, to what end ? We have lost the art of living and rush wildly across each others irregular course, brother dashes heedlessly against brother, and springs lightly over him he has thrown down. We have lost the art of living, or our ancestors Avere as bad as we are, without knowing it. And to what end the knowledge, if it only m.ike us the more miserable ; to what end open our eyes, if they see only our shame 1 Oh, why can we not purchase forgetfalness as well as knowledge? T would give all I possess to liini who would teach me this piecious art. Henceforth I will ])refer to see a grave dug lo a school founded, and think with tears of the lleformatlou which destroyed the sweet delusion of mankind. Oh, well I know what I would do if I could only forget; for what can be more delightful than lo shift one's fearfid personal responsibility on to the shoulders of the community, and enjoy our heart's, our senses' fill! But I have enjoyed neither with heart nor \\'\i\\ senses, I liave li\ed only with my reason, and I can now no more endure this tyranny. Why must I commence my attempt on one of the oldest civilized peoples in the heart of this sad Europe? Why not try the innocent children of Nature, if we have left any such remaining? I fancy I could have found men among the so-called savages who have leisure to be men ; perhaps they would have undertaken the performance of those golden doctrines, perhaps have proved it wns possible to be a Christian in more than name, for we Emopeans and Americans are a , god-forsaken people : like the sick man weary of his couch, we throw ourselves impatiently from side to side, but in every position the same wounds burn us. It is a secret malady, and we do not like to speak of it: we know it is incui-able, and we try our utmost to conceal it. One would think our whole life was a course of practice in that I.KTTEliS OF A MISSIONARY. (il) art of forgetfuliiess for which I just was sighing. The training for the great chase coumiences while young, and at the same time a whole catalogue of duties is instilled into us which we neither keep nor are expected to. Scarcely are we out of om- swaddling clothes when the real training commences: " What do not people expect nowadays? " say the parents. They make the days of golden childhood bitter with scraps of Latin, they garner so much dead matter in our minds daily, that they successfully destroy original germs. " Education ! education !" is the universal remedy which is prescribed for every ill ; it is the elixir of life, avails against all infirmities, against poverty in the individual, and against the transgressions of society. But men ■who can read and write make as good murderers as the savages of the primeval forest ; crime has become more refined among our higiily educated classes and is more successful in evading justice. An advantage certainly. Whether your schools have benefited the great masses Avho live from hand to mouth, is to be doubted. They have to toil in one way or another to gain a livelihood — that must always be. I have watched with interest the exertions of the Socialists both iti England and France, I have read the books in which they have laid down their theories, and have inspected their practical attempts. But this age is an unfruitful one, and their creations have remained nerveless phantoms. It is an egregious folly to try to make men happy before they are good, it is the height of absurdity to ignore mental disorder iu pity for bodily ailments and bodily want. A mudhut is as fitting a residence for men as a marble palace, sack- cloth as good as silk ; does not the lunatic who thinks he is a prince, and receives us on his straw-pallet, show us where the true value of things is to be sought ? When I balance the conditions of the poor and rich ; when on the one side I find brutality and want, unclouded delight in sensual enjoyment, freedom, nay unbridled liberty of social life ; and on the other, superfluity and satiety, imbounded avarice and jealousy, slavery to fashion and appearances, and malicious narrow-mindedness : I really do not know which class has the better lot : and I think that each has its deserts. How little reason the blithe artisan, depending on the strength of his two liands, has to envy the sickly gentleman ! And you, little seamstress, who take your meagre day's hire home to your mother, and as you pour out the old folks' glass of beer, 70 LKTTERS OF A MISSIOSAKY. detail in ecstasies all the splendor and elegance of your lady-employer's dresses — could you just peep into the bosoms of those stately pria- cesses which your gaudy handiwork conceals — you too, I dare wager, would become a wee philosopher and have a little gratitude for Him who has appointed so lowly an earthly lot for you. It is not happiness that men lack, but goodness : no one has ever given them that. Cliristianity, like every other faith, split upon this rock: yes, it has split! An incontrovertible trnth nowadays. Indeed, the unprejudiced inquirer into history must ask himself the question in all seriousness : did European civilization arise through Christianity, or in. spite of it'? This religion has, in its three great branches, equally fostered priestly tyranny and the ignorance and stupidity of the masses ; for the vices she exterminated, she intro- duced so many fi-esh ones that the orthodox believer of to-day, regarding historical Trnth, can repeat the adage of the old Dogma- tics : — credo quia ahsurdurn est! Happy those who are repaid for the hypocrisy and wickedness of our lives by the glitter and show of our civilization ! I am not ! I shall remain a sarcastic skeptic in the world until my strength fail me, and I purchase peace at the price of my common-sense. For we are all of us thoroughly bad ; which of us does not live in falsehood, the father toward his son, the wife toward her husband ? I have dwelt among poor factory-hands and found immorality and adultery things of course among them ; I resided in the country, and saw how, among the idyllic rustics, prostitution was a recognized institution. The courts of justice punish bigamy as a crime, and a young man is laughed at hj- his comrades if he does not wallow in tlie mire of immorality. All these are inmates of the Christians' ho.spital, belong to their priestly nation. But let me not forget our own class, the educated, the refined, we who have no other care than to make money, dash like persons possessed, into this noble race for wealth ; without looking to the right or left, only to the golden goal, which the nearer we approach, recedes the f:irtlier : where is the end, where is contentment acquired with gain '? We lavish large sums on our daughtei-s accomplishments in order that they the more easily may secure a wealthy husband, and weigh their mutual affections by Troy weight, (/old weight. Meanwhile our learned theologians quarrel about hiia LETTERS or A MISSIOSAltV. '71 in whom we no longer believe, about scruples and points, and excom- municate eacli other's conviction ; and yet all thia worthless empty Society plumes itself on its civilization, and brags of its religion as the highest attainment of mankind ! Yes ; we are all hollow, ailing wretches. Our foreheads ai-e of brass, and our hearts within are black, hard, cold coal. We look around with longing for an object of adoration, but the stars have all fallen fi'om Heaven, and our ancestors' idols, woman's beauty and princes' power, have become our servants. In vain the poor phil- osopher bends the knee to the greatness of the past, or the poet attempts to renew the spell of Love's sweet madness over our cold oentui-y ; we have lost that faith and •will be neither slaves of tyrants nor of our senses. Yott will ask why I embarked in the boat I see to be on the brink of foundering, why I invite passengers on board when the water is leaking in on all sides ? And now the obscure bond which binds me to that wondrous people from whom I sprang, rises to my consciousness. The Jews alone possess the awful power of realitj-, the Jews alone have disdained to prostrate themselves to hypocrisy, and in every, age, in every land, when demanded, they have sealed their faith with their blood, I must confess I begin to reason a little like the Hea- then, and almost would not mind, like the Indian, to consider the more powerful God the trae one. If error and obstinacy have pre- served the Jews through persecutions innumerable, if they have been able to make each wretched peddler into a death-spurning martyr, and everv tender maiden into a fearless heroine, seorninnc sufferine; : and if, on the other hand, their truth and their faitli could make of Chris- tians blood-thirsty fanatics who, bereft of all human feeling, exulted like raving cannibals round the burning stakes of their victims: then I diTiw back in hesitation and dare scarcely venture to give a verdict ! How would it sound if we transposed the names, called the Christians, the Jews, and vice versa? Of course this suggestion is nonsensical, but I can not help gazing on this people with a sense of uneasy expectation. We others, we may as well confess it, have been chasing phantoni.s and shedding our blood for phrases. The first Christians bled to escape idol-worship, and their own priests founded the adoration of images. Millions sacrificed themselves in the Crusades for the phan- ,2 LETTERS OF A MISSIONAllY. toin of the Holy Sepulchre, millions in the wars of the UeforiiiaUoii for the lie of Freedom of Conscience, millions again iu the struggles of the French Revolution for the chimera of political liberty. We hunt shadows and explore castles iu the air ; and we always effect the opposite of what we intended ; out of the religion of love and sincerity, we have made a religion of hatred and deceit! Judah alone among all the peoples possesses yet the power to do as it wills. It succumbed, in a manner worthy of a great nation, to the Romans, and stood out against the Heathenism of the Middle Ages with a god- like endurance, and where it sacrificed itself, it was to the Eternal whom it served. Perhaps the Jews can teach us to be Christians ; maybe they do not remain, as we do, by the word, and just as at the time of Jesus, heroes came from this downtrodden nation* who preached the word that brought salvation to the heathens, so now again from the despised seed of Abraham, champions of God shall arise who with strength and spirit shall point out Truth to this I'ottiug world of ours. Indeed, I should not place my hope in the Jews, if I did not