Chapter VII: El Kûds

Jerusalem—that much-coveted city of quarrels—was still under Moslem rule. The Jews—to whom it was as the golden heart of their country—had done all in their power to possess it, but the Sultan was obdurate, and had only bartered Palestine on the condition that El Kûds—the Holy—should be extra-territorialised. So the rivalry between the Greeks, Latins, Protestants, Armenians, Copts and Mohammedans continued. But the Jews stood on a firmer footing than heretofore; and if secretly they looked upon the _Harâm_ with covetous eyes, seeing behind the Mosque of Omar the dome of their own Temple, they kept their secret well. The Zionist leaders had impressed upon their minds the need of maintaining friendly relations with their rivals; and they were urged to treat the Christian sacred places with due respect, in order to show that they were as capable as the Mohammedans of guarding them intact, if ever opportunity should occur. That the opportunity would occur some day, was to them a foregone conclusion; for however long and weary the waiting, they were certain that Jerusalem would eventually be theirs.

Dr. Engelmacher’s house was situated in the south-eastern suburb of the town, adjoining the Jewish quarter. Montella and his wife and child—who were to be the doctor’s guests—arrived late on a Friday afternoon, just before the falling of the Sabbath. They had travelled from Haifa to Jaffa by boat, and then on to Jerusalem by train, for the new railway between the two capitals was not yet completed. Engelmacher received them with a breezy cordiality which immediately put them at their ease; and his wife, a typical German frau, busied herself greatly concerning their comfort. Little Julian, who had come in the care of the faithful Anne, was installed in a pretty room transformed into a nursery for the occasion. Mrs. Engelmacher had no children of her own, her only little one having died in infancy. Perhaps that was why she had begged Lady Patricia to bring hers: she longed for the sound of a childish voice.

To the true Jew there is no happier hour than that of a calm Sabbath eve. Having rid himself of the turmoil of his daily labour, he dons his best garb to meet the Bride of the Sabbath. The Friday night supper is in itself an institution; and the ceremonial candles, the sweet wine and cloth-covered bread, serve as links to unite him to his brethren throughout the world. So felt Dr. Engelmacher, as with his velvet cap well set on his head, he intoned the Hebrew grace. To him the Sabbath had but one disadvantage: he could not smoke, for as to touch fire is forbidden, his well-beloved briar had to be laid aside until on the following evening three stars appeared in the sky. But he made the sacrifice cheerfully, even if he sometimes grumbled about it to his wife. His motto with regard to his religion was “_Noblesse oblige._” The more was it to be appreciated in that it cost something to be a Jew.

“Your wife is a picture!” he exclaimed to his guest, when a little while later Patricia, on the plea of fatigue, excused herself and retired to rest. “Himmel! what eyes! One can look right through them to her soul. But she is a thorough Englishwoman. How likes she the foreign life?”

“Very well, I think,” Montella replied, with a contented smile. “She would make herself happy anywhere with me; she is only unhappy when she thinks she disappoints me in not doing the proper thing in accordance with Jewish law.”

“Then she is conscientious?”

“Yes, very; it is her nature. She is the sort of girl who would be happy in any country and under any conditions so long as she thought she was doing the right thing. She is the dearest little woman in the world!”

“Little, do you call her?” said Mrs. Engelmacher, who was short and plump. “_Um Gotteswillen_, if she is little, I must be a pigmy. She is tall and graceful, such as one reads of. If I were a man I should be proud of such a wife—eh, Max?”

“Ach well, perhaps.” The good doctor pinched her cheek affectionately, knowing what she desired. “For myself I prefer a small wife, because she takes up less room in a house, and you can put her in your pocket if there is nowhere else for her to go. Besides, I like to see a dear Yiddishë _ponim_[11] at my side. It would not do for us all to fall in love with fair and beautiful Christians. Where would Judaism be?”

Footnote 11:

Countenance.

He laughed heartily, and so did Montella, who was too sensible to take offence. And so the evening passed, enlivened by anecdotes and jokes, until Mrs. Engelmacher also said good-night. Left to themselves, the two men entered upon a more serious conversation, for in connection with the Rabbinical faction there was much to be discussed. Ben Yetzel had openly declared antagonism towards any kind of reform, and in doing so had practically thrown down the glove.

“He came back from Haifa with his hands raised in holy horror,” Engelmacher said, in his short, dry accents. “According to him the city is a veritable hot-bed of heresy. He saw with his very own eyes a Jewish man carrying a walking-stick on the Sabbath; and the strange thing about it was that the heavens did not fall!”

“Ridiculous!” exclaimed the young man, with contempt. “It is a wonder he will consent to carry his clothes.”

“Well, you know he wears his pocket-handkerchief tied round his knee as a garter because it would be a sin to carry it in his pocket on the Sabbath. But there is worse to follow. He went to your house to dinner in spite of his misgiving as to the orthodoxy of your menage, and your wife actually offered him milk in his coffee thirty minutes after he had partaken of meat! After that he has given you all up as hopeless; and really, my dear Montella, I think you might have exercised greater care!”

“My wife offered him milk in his coffee!” repeated Lionel incredulously. “I can scarcely believe it. My mother was in the room, and would surely have noticed it; she is quite as particular in that way as Ben Yetzel himself.”

“But how is it there was milk on the tray at all so soon after dinner?”

“Because my wife and Miss Emanuel seldom eat meat. They find that light food agrees with them better in this climate. Of course, Patricia, who finds it difficult to realise the importance of the dietary laws, _might_ unthinkingly have passed him the milk. It is a great pity, especially as Ben Yetzel is such a fanatic. But I dare not say anything to her about it; she would be very grieved at her mistake.”

“Oh, it isn’t worth while to rake up the matter now,” said the doctor, relapsing into his native tongue. “The question is, are we to bow down to Ben Yetzel or not? Years ago, when I was threshing out the Zionist question, I thought what a glorious thing national Judaism would be, but I left the narrowness of Rabbinical Judaism quite out of account. In this new State, it seems to me, as to my contemporaries, that we should let every man find salvation in his own particular way.[12] How can we, who have suffered so much on account of religious persecution, afford to deny toleration to our own brethren? Let every man do that which seems right according to his own conscience, thereby abolishing the secret hypocrisy which is so detestable to an honest soul. To enforce orthodoxy as Ben Yetzel would do is absolute madness; it will simply mean the cramping and narrowing down of all the best that is in us; it will mean the practical ruin of the State.”

Footnote 12:

Dr. Herzl’s principle.

“And yet you are an orthodox Jew yourself?”

“I am. Use is second nature, you know, and I am willing to try and set a good example. But I am a broad-minded man of the world, and I know that that world does not end at my own horizon. People of different temperaments need various forms, even of the same religion. It is impossible for an Englishman like yourself, for instance, to beat your breast like the Polish Jew.”

Montella nodded. “You are a sensible man, doctor,” he said, with enthusiasm. “But what do you advise?”

“I hardly know. The bulk of the people in Palestine are with Ben Yetzel to a man. It is only the few emancipated, deep-thinking men like ourselves who have any thought of rebellion. For the present we must just watch and wait to see how things go. You will see Ben Yetzel, of course, while you are here?”

“My people in Haifa expect it of me. I suppose I must.”

“Then be careful what you say to him. He is an adept at catching one in one’s words. He loves to condemn people out of their own mouths; it is a form of amusement in which he delights.”

“You may rely on me to be discreet,” returned Montella, with a smile. “I can be as stolid as the Sphinx when I please.”

They parted for the night, and the young man went to his room with a light step. To his surprise he found Patricia still half dressed, her willowy figure enveloped in a loose silken wrapper. Sitting with her elbows resting on the ledge of the open casement, she looked like some frail sprite in the light of the moon. Montella went up to her, and tenderly touched the loosened tendrils of her hair.

“I thought you were in bed long ago, sweet,” he said.

She turned towards him with an affectionate gesture. “I have been talking to Anne,” was her reply. “It is just a month since her grandchild died. She seemed very much upset about it, poor woman, and I think it has done her good to tell me. I have been trying to console her.”

“At the expense of your beauty sleep?”

“I do not feel inclined for sleep; I am not so tired as I was an hour ago.”

“But you must sleep, or you will be fit for nothing to-morrow,” he urged gently. “What were you gazing at so intently out of the window?”

“Jerusalem!” she replied, and the words fell almost musically from her lips. “I look through this casement window, and I see the city stretched out before me, with its white domes and flat roofs, and a kind of spell comes over me as I gaze. See how solitary it looks, surrounded by those savage hills, and yet it is the centre of the three great religions of the world, and the goal of pilgrims from the uttermost ends of the earth. Even I, who am neither a Jewess by birth nor scarcely a Christian by faith, cannot help feeling thrilled. Eight times destroyed, it has come through fire and blood, and still remains; even Rome cannot boast of such a record as this.”

Montella smiled.

“What a fascinating goddess Jerusalem is!” he exclaimed softly. “She intoxicates us all when we first come within her walls; but you will find that the charm will wear off when you have been here a few days. A bird’s-eye view of the city is more satisfactory, I think, than a closer inspection. She doesn’t improve on acquaintance, for beneath her apparently peaceful exterior, there rises the humbug of her ecclesiastical show-places, the wrangle of creeds. When you have seen all the sights of the place, you will find that your pleasing sensations have gradually evaporated. At least, that was my experience on my first visit here.”

“You are more matter-of-fact than I am,” she rejoined, almost reproachfully. “I am sure that to me Jerusalem will always remain the same.”

She closed the casement and turned away, a thoughtful expression in her eyes. She could not imagine why the sight of the city should raise such emotions in her, since she was not bound to it by ties either of race or faith. She was always moved by places of historic interest, it was true, and she remembered how greatly she had been stirred by her first view of the seven hills of Rome; but Jerusalem impressed her in an entirely different way, and one which she could not so easily explain. She had looked forward with no especial pleasure to her sojourn in the Holy City, and had come merely because her husband wished it. Now, however, her feeling was one of inexplicable delight. She would not have missed the visit for the world.