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Reb Schlome Sachs, superior attendant in the old synagogue, had on Friday evening just returned home from this synagogue. In his house and in his heart there ruled a Sabbath-peace. There is something very pleasurable in a small room on such a winter Friday evening! A large black stove radiated a pleasant warmth, whilst in the middle of the room a pendant lamp of eight branches, spread abroad a subdued, ruddy, but yet friendly light. On the oblong table lay a clean white cloth, under it again might be seen yet another particoloured covering, from the corners of which tassels were hanging and served as a cheerful pastime for a lively cat. But the loveliest ornament of the room was without a doubt the housewife Schöndel, a blooming graceful woman of about thirty. As she, in her elegant Sabbath-attire, the rich clusters of her dark hair becomingly covered by a richly worked cap, in her pretty, close fitting neatly made gown, fastened high up on the neck, stepped to meet her husband, and took off his cloak and cap, as they both of them joyously wished one another a happy Sabbath, as in their features a pure and childlike joyfulness of soul, a deep and blessed peace of mind mirrored itself--then surely would neither of them have exchanged their lot for that of kings or princes.

The master sang the Psalm of the day, and as he ended, enquired, "was Reb Gabriel not yet come home."

"No, he wished to go to-day to the old New-synagogue which he has not yet seen."

"Oh, then he will return later; we in the old synagogue only repeat the Friday-Psalm once and have no 'benediction.'--How do you like our new tenant that Cobbler Abraham brought us?"

"Oh, I like him very well, a handsome man of refined habits and demeanour; not at all like a Talmud-student; they think of nothing but their themes and disputations; but Reb Gabriel converses well and gracefully. He must be of a good and wealthy family; his deportment too is very different to that of the others, so bolt upright and so stiff, you know, just as if he was a soldier; but he is not so devout as the others."

"He has a profound knowledge of the Talmud, as in the course of this very day I became aware, and I'm glad of that--you know I take no rent from our lodger, only make a point of having a god-fearing sound Talmudist in the house; but tell me, dear wife, what makes you think that he holds himself like a soldier?"

"Nay, because they hold themselves straight and upright. What is there remarkable in that."

"Nothing, nothing,--but I have not yet told you; yesterday evening, when I came home from the midnight-prayer-meeting, just as I was going to unlock the door of our cottage--I always take the key with me that I may not be obliged to wake you--I heard a loud voice in our lodger's room; I listened a moment.--It was not the way, in which one studies the Talmud--he seemed to be addressing one or more persons, but what he said had such a strange ring about it, I could not at first clearly make it out, especially as according to the tenor of his words he at one moment muttered softly, at another cried loud out--the wind moreover whistled loud through the passage; but my ear soon grew accustomed to the sound, and I heard him plainly say: 'Man, we are both lost--both of us, you and I--they will betray us to the Imperialists--they will deliver us to our deadliest enemy,' afterwards he cried out again suddenly--'they shall not surprise us! we are armed, march, halt! fire! storm! no quarter--they give none, level everything. Ah, ah, blood, blood! that refreshes the soul. The victory is mine! mine the blood stained laurel wreath, I am victor,--I victor. Ah me, it avails nothing, I am still a ----' the last words died lightly away. After some minutes all was again still in the room, and I heard the measured breathing of his mighty breast. This is the first opportunity that I have had of telling you about it, for Friday, as you know, I am entirely occupied by my duty in the synagogue,--I might, perhaps, have forgotten it, had not you remarked upon his military aspect."--

"I am not at all surprised that he has such dreams," replied Schöndel, "his mind is always full of such wonderful things.--This morning, when I wanted to fetch for you your Sabbath clothes out of the chest, that he lets us leave in his room, getting no answer to my knock, I lifted up the latch, to assure myself that he was out; but the door came open and Gabriel, his head resting on both hands, was gazing with fixed attention--not on a folio, but a roll of coloured paper on which he was drawing different lines with a pen. When I got nearer, I made out that it was a map. I asked him in astonishment what that meant, and he told me that as he travelled from Germany to Prague, he had in the course of his journey encountered the Bohemian and Imperial armies, and that to amuse himself he was now looking where they were--then he pointed out to me the exact spot, where the brave Field-Marshal Mannsfield was, where the Elector Maximilian, and Generals Tilly and Boucquoi lay with their troops, then he showed me how badly Christian of Anhalt, Frederick's General-in-chief, was supporting the operations of the brave Ernest of Mannsfield, and how that the troops of the union in spite of their bravery and gallant leader must succumb, so long as Anhalt, incapable, or as he expressed himself, perhaps won over by the Imperialists remained at the head of the army: all this he explained to me so clearly, and distinctly, that even I, a foolish woman, could quite easily see the force of it.--'How do you come to have such a clear perception of all that,' I enquired, 'of all the students of the present School not one would understand so much about these things as you--you'd make a good officer.' 'Nay, who knows,' he laughingly answered, 'if some day I do not get a good Rabbinate, I may still become a soldier.' The whole occurrence struck me as so strange, that it haunted me the whole day; I cannot help smiling when I think of it. In the middle of the day, about three hours afterwards, as I crossed over to the 'Kleinseite' to buy some wax tapers, I saw two superior officers riding over the bridge, one I happened to know, the young Thurn--every child here knows him; but as to the other, a captain, who rode a perfectly black horse, he seemed to me as like our lodger Gabriel, as one twin-brother is to the other, and as they both turned the corner into the 'Kleinseite,' this captain caught sight of me and gave me such a friendly unconstrained look, as if he would greet me. But all this was a pure deception, the whole resemblance may have been a slight and casual one, and Gabriel's strange conversation of which my thoughts were still full, may have probably been the cause of my exaggerating the likeness--and that officers turn round to stare at young women, is certainly no new occurrence."

"Trust me," answered Schlome, "Gabriel is no captain. The students of the School at Prague are not the stuff out of which kings, or states would fashion heroes. I do not say that they would not make as good as others.--The Maccabees fought as bravely as a Thurn, a Boucquoi, a Mannsfield, and even more bravely,--but so long as the Lord of Hosts in his lofty wisdom does not entirely turn the hearts of the princes and peoples among whom we live, we must accept oppression, contumely, scorn, and all else that Providence has ordained for us. Do you not know, that for some years the fencing-masters here in Prague have been forbidden to teach the Jews the noble art of fencing? But, dear wife, this is no pleasant subject of conversation for a joyful Friday-evening."

"You are ungrateful! Do we not now live quietly under the protection of the laws? Look back to the dark and horrible times of yore."--

"To-day let us conjure up no sad memories, let us not disturb a joyous Sabbath peace," implored Schlome, "let us speak of something else, of what you will. You say our lodger is not as devout as other students?"

"No, he is not so industrious, does not often attend a lecture on the Talmud, even in the few days that he has been here has often neglected to attend at synagogue; besides he never kisses the scroll on the door as he goes in and out."

Schlome was about to answer, but was prevented by the hurried entrance of Gabriel, who by an actual omission confirmed the assertion that had just been made.

"A happy Sabbath to you; excuse my late return. I was in the old New-synagogue, an awe striking synagogue! We hear much of this synagogue in my country. It is certainly one of the most ancient Judaic buildings in Europe, if we except the house of God at Worms, perhaps, the most ancient;--but tell me, good man, are all the stories, that they tell us in the schools of Germany, especially towards midnight, about this edifice and which have often caused me a thrill of pleasant ghostly horror, true?"

"The child-like temper of the people," replied the goodman, "delight in the unwonted and strange, and then many stories are told, that in reality may have happened very differently."

"Yes, but there is much truth in it," interposed the good wife; "ah, this community of Prague has in the course of time met with so much sorrow, has suffered such endless anguish, and yet God--blessed be his name--has so wonderfully supported it, that even now it shines forth a brilliant example to its sisters in Germany. Whenever I pass that ancient and reverend house of God, pictures of the days that are gone come back upon me. Do you know the history of how our brethren in the faith were once ruthlessly slaughtered in the old New-synagogue?"

Schöndel was obliged to repeat this question; Gabriel seemed suddenly lost in deep reflection. "No," said he, at length arousing himself from his reveries, as though his spirit was for away;--"tell it, noble lady! Everything sounds doubly beautiful from your rosy lips."--

Schlome shook his head in thoughtful astonishment over this manner of speaking, so different from that usual with Talmud-students.

"Reb Gabriel! you talk like a knight to a lady of rank. Do not forget that you are a student of the Talmud, and my wife the wife of a servant."

"You must not talk as if you wished to mock us," said Schöndel, and a deep flush suffused her face; "or I cannot"--

"Oh, the story, good wife! mind not my talk. I am at times absent, and often far off in imagination."

"High on horseback in the battle, is it not so?" asked Schöndel slily.

The face of the student became a deep dark red. He required a moment to recover command of himself. "What do you mean by that?" he impetuously demanded.

"Women are gossiping, as you know from the Talmud and surely from your own experience also," said Schlome. "I was just telling my wife, as we waited for you, that yesterday when I returned from midnight prayer, as I passed by the door of your room, I could hear you call out loud in your sleep, and that you appeared to be dreaming of a battle or something of that kind.--We thought the dream a strange one for a student."

"Ah," said Gabriel, drawing a deep breath, and visibly relieved--"ah, you thought so? Well, I do sometimes dream heavily of battles.--But do you know, how that happens? I was too industrious as a student--studied the Talmud day and night; but a man cannot endure too much work, and as my ambition compelled me to unbroken exertion, it fell out, that my mind became confused, I became subject to delusions and fancied myself, a knight, a warrior--but I am now thanks to a clever physician and rest of body and mind, perfectly well again, perfectly! Do not be anxious!--But as on my journey here I encountered many troops of soldiers, my mind may again in sleep have been terrified by gloomy visions: for although I am now quite well, yet still, if I have shortly before been excited about anything, unpleasant dreams are wont to pain me; but they are only dreams; and it seldom happens, so I beg you to pay no attention if I do again talk such strange stuff in my sleep."

It was an age, when the study of the Talmud afforded almost the only outlet for spiritual activity. It was no uncommon event for a student, especially if he combined an ascetic life with hard study, to unhinge his mind by what is called over-study. It was known too, that mental derangements which had been caused in that way, could be healed by sensible treatment, rest of body and mind, just as Gabriel had stated, and the husband and wife themselves knew more than one student, who had been affected just in the same way as their lodger, and like him too had recovered. They had no reason, therefore, for doubting Gabriel's open confession, and even the obvious embarrassment, that he had evinced at the quick retort of the good-wife seemed entirely justified by the really unpleasant and affecting confession that had been wrung from him.

"Poor young man," thus Schöndel broke the long pause that intervened and began to be uncomfortable. "Thank God,--praised be he therefore!--that he hath helped you, and be right glad. Now I too understand, wherefore you took such warm sympathy in the old Jacob, and immediately granted his request."

"No, that was not the reason," said Gabriel earnestly, and reflectively, as if in fact he too participated in Schöndel's wonder, and could find within himself no sufficient explanation of his behaviour at that time--"but please, let us leave this subject, and talk of something else.--You were going to tell me, how once on a time."

"Yes, yes," cried Schöndel, glad to be able to give another direction to the conversation; "listen: It must be now more than two hundred years ago,--Wenceslaus the Slothful was ruler of the country--when it fell out that a knight was inflamed with a hot lust for a Jewish maiden. She rejected his shameful proposals with virtuous indignation. Cunning and seductive arts were shattered against the maiden's steadfast determination. The knight, therefore, resolved to attain his warmly coveted aim by violence. The day of the feast of the atonement seemed to him the best suited for the accomplishment of his ruthless plan. He knew, that Judith--so the maiden was named--would on that day stay at home alone with her blind mother, while all the rest were detained by prayer and devout exercises in the house of God. On the evening of that day--Judith was softly praying by the bed-side of her slumbering mother--the door of her chamber opened, and her detested persecutor entered with sparkling eager look. Unmoved by the prayers, the tears of Judith, he already held her fast embraced in his powerful arms when a lucky chance brought home her brother to enquire after the health of his mother and sister. The terrible unutterable wrath that took possession of him, gave the man, naturally powerful, the strength of a giant. He wrenched his arms from the villain, who had only the women to thank, that he did not by the forfeit of his life pay for the attempted infamy. With kicks and grim mockery the outraged brother expelled the dissolute fellow from the house. The knight given over to the scorn of the people who had assembled in considerable numbers, swore a bloody deadly revenge against the Jews. He kept his word--Reb Gabriel! for God's sake! what is the matter with you?" suddenly the narrator interrupted herself; "are you unwell?"

Gabriel, who had listened to the housewife, with ever growing attention, was in fact at this moment a sight to look upon, his features had become as pale as ashes and twitched convulsively, his large and glassy eyes were fixed immoveably on one spot, as though he saw a ghost.

"What ails you?" cried Schlome, shaking his lodger with all his force, "recover yourself."

Gabriel's lips closed more than once with a quiver, without being able to give forth an intelligible sound; at length he passed his hand across his forehead that was covered with a cold sweat, and said with a powerful effort at self-command, and as if awaking from a dream: "That was in the days of King Wenceslaus, was it not? two hundred years ago,--a blind mother--a beautiful daughter--and the day of reconciliation was it?"

"Thank God, that you are well again, you must have had a sudden giddiness."

"Yes, yes," said Gabriel, faint and enfeebled, "I felt very unwell for a moment, very unwell--but I am better again. Go on with your story, dear lady, I pray you, go on with it."

Complying with his urgent request, Schöndel continued: "Long ago expelled from the ranks of the nobility on account of his worthless behaviour, the knight had cultivated a connection with some discontented idle burghers of the city, and these he hoped to make the ministers of his cruel vengeance. Some short time afterward he put himself at the head of a mob rendered fanatical under frivolous pretexts to murder and plunder in the Jews-town. The first, who, frightened out of their peaceful dwellings, went to meet the robbers, were cut down. Determined men endeavoured to oppose a monstrously superior force. Vain effort. Without arms, they saw themselves after an heroic opposition compelled to take refuge in the old New-synagogue already filled with old men, women, and children. Mighty blows sounded heavily on the closed doors of the synagogue. 'Open and give yourselves up,' yelled the knight from outside. After a short pause of consultation answer was made, that the Jews would deliver their property over to the mutineers, would draw up a deed of gift of it, and only keep back for themselves absolute necessaries; they also promised to make no complaint to king or states, in exchange for which, the honour of their wives and daughters was to be preserved, and no one compelled to change his religion.

"'It is not your business,' a voice from outside again resounded, 'it is ours to dictate conditions.--Do you desire life and not a wretched death, then open and at once abjure your faith. I grant but short delay for reflection; if that fruitlessly elapses, you are one and all given over to death!'

"No answer followed. Farther resistance could not be thought of, and hope that the king would at length put a stop to this unheard of, unparalleled iniquity, grew every moment less. The battle in the street--if the desperate resistance of a few unarmed men against an armed superior force could be called by that name--had lasted so long; that King Wenceslaus might have easily sent assistance; but none came. They were at length constrained to admit, that he did not trouble himself about the fate of the Jews. A silence as of death reigned in the synagogue; only here and there a suppressed sobbing, only here and there an infant at the breast, that reminded its mother of her sweetest duty, was heard. Once more the voice of the knight thundered rough and wild: 'I demand of you for the last time, whether do you choose: the new faith or death?' There was a momentary silence, then broke a cry of thousands 'Death' with a dull sound against the roof of the house that was consecrated to God.--The insurgents now began to demolish the doors with axes and hatchets. But the besieged in their deadly agony lifted up their voice in wonderful accord, and sang in solemn chorus the glorious verse of the Psalmist: