It certainly benefited us—this interview with the Rabbi. We became familiar with a man whom religion alone sufficed to inspire a life for Truth; who sought not ephemeral honors, knowing that they were incompatible with a fate wrapt up with that of the infinite heavens.
BAER MEISELS
Having been brought up under the guidance of such a man, we can easily explainthe resignation of Baruch Spinoza, the enthusiasm of William Herschel, the tranquillity of Moses Mendelssohn, and theindefatigableness of Isaac Disraeli.
(Concluded)
ONE afternoon, after a hearing before the investigating committee, Meisels returned to our cell in an unusual state of excitement. After the door had been bolted behind him, the old man, full of indignation, began to relate what that wretch of a Tugendhold proposed to do. Among the papers of the Chief Rabbi, there had been found an envelope on which a few stray Hebrew words had been jotted down, and on account of which it had been handed to the official translator. As Tugendhold could find nothing suspicious in all the papers of the accused, and as he was determined by all means to discover or, if necessary invent, something of a tell-tale nature, he brought all his ingenuity to bear upon the red seal of this envelope. Again it was the alluring origin of the “alliance” which he alleged to have found; the signet of the seal was a cross, and, naturally he forthwith concluded that the letter which the envelope had contained was that of a Catholic priest—and—on what subject would the religious representatives of different faiths correspond, if not upon this—cursed—“alliance,” which had spoiled the broth the government had been preparing for so many years? So you see, gentle reader, that there was not a single link wanting in the chain of evidence. Bow before such acuteness; it would do honor to any detective on the track of a murderer. Of course, Tugendhold’s business was not interpreting seals, it was translating He-
brew manuscripts,—but then what will an ambitious servant not do to patch up his uniform and perhaps add a ribbon or two to his buttonhole?
Rabbi Meisels was requested to name the person who had written the letter which the incriminating envelope had contained. He avowed his inability to do this, considering the extent of his correspondence, but he asked the privilege of examining the corpus delecti. He looked at it again and again and—alas for the clever combination of his accuser—the cross was no cross at all, but an anchor, the coat of arms of a priest of Mercury, vulgo a merchant. The members of the Commission were again convinced of the infamy of their instructor, and—smiled. We, however, had to sacrifice a good part of our health to the zeal of this blue-coated sycophant.
Upon the whole Meisels bore his confinement with philosophic calm. Every morning at four o'clock, he took the lighted candle, which, according to prison regulations had stood upon the floor during the night, and placed it upon the table so that it might light up his books, and there he sat and studied all day until overcome by sleep at night. I can still see him, the handsome old man, nodding over his folios, a picture of physical weakness and mental strength. He made but little use of the hours, or rather minutes of open air exercise allowed us. He had never included much physical exercise in his mode of life,