Jewish Literature and Other Essays Part 12

"Within my heart I held concealed My love so tender and so true; But overflowing tears revealed What I would fain have hid from view.

My heart could evermore repress The woe that tell-tale tears confess."

Charisi is at his best when he gives the rein to his humor. Sparks fly; he stops at no caustic witticism, recoils from no satire; he is malice itself, and puts no restraint upon his levity. The "Flea Song" is a typical ill.u.s.tration of his impish mood:

"You ruthless flea, who desecrate my couch, And draw my blood to sate your appet.i.te, You know not rest, on Sabbath day or feast-- Your feast it is when you can pinch and bite.

My friends expound the law: to kill a flea Upon the Sabbath day a sin they call; But I prefer that other law which says, Be sure a murd'rer's malice to forestall."

That Charisi was a boon companion is evident from the following drinking song:

"Here under leafy bowers, Where coolest shades descend, Crowned with a wreath of flowers, Here will we drink, my friend.

Who drinks of wine, he learns That n.o.ble spirits' strength But steady increase earns, As years stretch out in length.

A thousand earthly years Are hours in G.o.d's sight, A year in heav'n appears A minute in its flight.

I would this lot were mine: To live by heav'nly count, And drink and drink old wine At youth's eternal fount."

Charisi and his Arabic models found many imitators among Spanish Jews.

Solomon ibn Sakbel wrote Hebrew Makamat which may be regarded as an attempt at a satire in the form of a romance. The hero, Asher ben Yehuda, a veritable Don Juan, pa.s.ses through most remarkable adventures.[51] The introductory Makama, describing life with his mistress in the solitude of a forest, is delicious. Tired of his monotonous life, he joins a company of convivial fellows, who pa.s.s their time in carousal. While with them, he receives an enigmatic love letter signed by an unknown woman, and he sets out to find her. On his wanderings, oppressed by love's doubts, he chances into a harem, and is threatened with death by its master. It turns out that the pasha is a beautiful woman, the slave of his mysterious lady-love, and she promises him speedy fulfilment of his wishes. Finally, close to the attainment of his end, he discovers that his beauty is a myth, the whole a practical joke perpetrated by his merry companions. So Asher ben Yehuda in quest of his mistress is led from adventure to adventure.

Internal evidence testifies against the genuineness of this romance, but at the same time with it appeared two other mock-heroic poems, "The Book of Diversions" (_Sefer Sha'ashuim_) by Joseph ibn Sabara, and "The Gift of Judah the Misogynist" (_Minchatk Yehuda Soneh ha-Nas.h.i.+m_) by Judah ibn Sabbata, a Cordova physician, whose poems Charisi praised as the "fount of poesy." The plot of his "Gift," a satire on women, is as follows:[52] His dying father exacts from Serach, the hero of the romance, a promise never to marry, women in his sight being the cause of all the evil in the world. Curious as the behest is, it is still more curious that Serach uncomplainingly complies, and most curious of all, that he finds three companions willing to retire with him to a distant island, whence their propaganda for celibacy is to proceed. Scarcely has the news of their arrival spread, when a ma.s.s meeting of women is called, and a coalition formed against the misogynists. Korbi, an old hag, engages to make Serach faithless to his principles. He soon has a falling out with his fellow-celibates, and succ.u.mbs to the fascinations of a fair young temptress. After the wedding he discovers that his enemies, the women, have subst.i.tuted for his beautiful bride, a hideous old woman, Blackcoal, the daughter of Owl. She at once a.s.sumes the reins of government most energetically, and answers her husband's groan of despair by the following curtain lecture:

"Up! up! the time for sleep is past!

And no resistance will I brook!

Away with thee, and look to it That thou bringst me what I ask: Gowns of costly stuff, Earrings, chains, and veils; A house with many windows; Mortars, lounges, sieves, Baskets, kettles, pots, Gla.s.ses, settles, brooms, Beakers, closets, flasks, Shovels, basins, bowls, Spindle, distaff, blankets, Buckets, ewers, barrels, Skillets, forks, and knives; Vinaigrettes and mirrors; Kerchiefs, turbans, reticules, Crescents, amulets, Rings and jewelled clasps; Girdles, buckles, bodices, Kirtles, caps, and waists; Garments finely spun, Rare byssus from the East.

This and more shalt thou procure, No matter at what cost and sacrifice.

Thou art affrighted? Thou weepest?

My dear, spare all this agitation; Thou'lt suffer more than this.

The first year shall pa.s.s in strife, The second will see thee a beggar.

A prince erstwhile, thou shalt become a slave; Instead of a crown, thou shalt wear a wreath of straw."

Serach in abject despair turns for comfort to his three friends, and it is decided to bring suit for divorce in a general a.s.sembly. The women appear at the meeting, and demand that the despiser of their s.e.x be forced to keep his ugly wife. One of the trio of friends proposes that the matter be brought before the king. The poet appends no moral to his tale; he leaves it to his readers to say: "And such must be the fate of all woman-haters!"

Judah Sabbata was evidently far from being a woman-hater himself, but some of his contemporaries failed to understand the point of his witticisms and ridiculous situations. Yedaya Penini, another poet, looked upon it as a serious production, and in his allegory, "Woman's Friend," dest.i.tute of poetic inspiration, but brilliant in dialectics, undertook the defense of the fair s.e.x against the misanthropic aspersions of the woman-hater.

Such works are evidence that we have reached the age of the troubadours and minnesingers, the epoch of the Renaissance, when, under the blue sky of Italy, and the fostering care of the trio of master-poets, Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio, the first germs of popular poetry were unfolding. The Italian Jews were carried along by the all-pervading spirit of the times, and had a share in the vigorous mental activity about them. Suggestions derived from the work of the Renaissance leaders fell like electric sparks into Jewish literature and science, lighting them up, and bringing them into rapport with the products of the humanistic movement. Provence, the land of song, gave birth to Kalonymos ben Kalonymos, later a resident of Italy, whose work, "Touchstone"

(_Eben Bochan_) is the first true satire in neo-Hebraic poetry. It is a mirror of morals held up before his people, for high and low, rabbis and leaders, poets and scholars, rich and poor, to see their foibles and follies. The satire expresses a humorous, but lofty conception of life, based upon profound morality and sincere faith. It fulfils every requirement of a satire, steering clear of the pitfall caricature, and not obtruding the didactic element. The lesson to be conveyed is involved in, not stated apart from the satire, an emanation from the poet's disposition. His aim is not to ridicule, but to improve, instruct, influence. One of the most amusing chapters is that on woman's superior advantages, which make him bewail his having been born a man:[53]

"Truly, G.o.d's hand lies heavy on him Who has been created a man: Full many a trial he must patiently bear, And scorn and contumely of every kind.

His life is like a field laid waste-- Fortunate he is if it lasts not too long!

Were I, for instance, a woman, How smooth and pleasant were my course.

A circle of intimate friends Would call me gentle, graceful, modest.

Comfortably I'd sit with them and sew, With one or two mayhap at the spinning wheel.

On moonlight nights Gathered for cozy confidences, About the hearthfire, or in the dark, We'd tell each other what the people say, The gossip of the town, the scandals, Discuss the fas.h.i.+ons and the last election.

I surely would rise above the average-- I would be an artist needlewoman, Broidering on silk and velvet The flowers of the field, And other patterns, copied from models, So rich in color as to make them seem nature-- Petals, trees, blossoms, plants, and pots, And castles, pillars, temples, angel heads, And whatever else can be imitated with needle by her Who guides it with art and skill.

Sometimes, too, though 'tis not so attractive, I should consent to play the cook-- No less important task of woman 'tis To watch the kitchen most carefully.

I should not be ruffled By dust and ashes on the hearth, by soot on stoves and pots; Nor would I hesitate to swing the axe And chop the firewood, And not to feed and rake the fire up, Despite the ashy dust that fills the nostrils.

My particular delight it would be To taste of all the dishes served.

And if some merry, joyous festival approached, Then would I display my taste.

I would choose most brilliant gems for ear and hand, For neck and breast, for hair and gown, Most precious stuffs of silk and velvet, Whatever in clothes and jewels would increase my charms.

And on the festal day, I would loud rejoice, Sing, and sway myself, and dance with vim.

When I reached a maiden's prime, With all my charms at their height, What happiness, were heaven to favor me, Permit me to draw a prize in life's lottery, A youth of handsome mien, brave and true, With heart filled with love for me.

If he declared his pa.s.sion, I would return his love with all my might.

Then as his wife, I would live a princess, Reclining on the softest pillows, My beauty heightened by velvet, silk, and tulle, By pearls and golden ornaments, Which he with lavish love would bring to me, To add to his delight and mine."

After enumerating additional advantages enjoyed by the gentler s.e.x, the poet comes to the conclusion that protesting against fate is vain, and closes his chapter thus:

"Well, then, I'll resign myself to fate, And seek consolation in the thought that life comes to an end.

Our sages tell us everywhere That for all things we must praise G.o.d, With loud rejoicing for all good, In submission for evil fortune.

So I will force my lips, However they may resist, to say the olden blessing: My Lord and G.o.d accept my thanks That thou has made of me a man."

One of Kalonymos's friends was Immanuel ben Solomon of Rome, called the "Heine of the middle ages," and sometimes the "Jewish Voltaire." Neither comparison is apt. On the one hand, they give him too high a place as a writer, on the other, they do not adequately indicate his characteristic qualities. His most important work, the _Mechabberoth_, is a collection of disjointed pieces, full of bold witticisms, poetic thoughts, and linguistic charms. It is composed of poems, Makamat, parodies, novels, epigrams, distichs, and sonnets--all essentially humorous. The poet presents things as they are, leaving it to reality to create ridiculous situations. He is witty rather than humorous. Rarely only a spark of kindliness or the glow of poetry transfigures his wit. He is uniformly objective, scintillating, cold, often frivolous, and not always chaste.

To produce a comic effect, to make his readers laugh is his sole desire.

Friend and admirer of Dante, he attained to a high degree of skill in the sonnet. In neo-Hebraic poetry, his works mark the beginning of a new epoch. Indelicate witticisms and levity, until then sporadic in Jewish literature, were by him introduced as a regular feature. The poetry of the earlier writers had dwelt upon the power of love, their muse was modest and chaste, a "rose of Sharon," a "lily of the valleys."

Immanuel's was of coa.r.s.er fibre; his witty sallies remind one of Italian rather than Hebrew models. A recent critic of Hebrew poetry speaks of his Makamat as a pendant to "Tristan and Isolde,"--in both sensuality triumphs over spirituality. He is at his best in his sonnets, and of these the finest are in poetic prose. Female beauty is an unfailing source of inspiration to him, but of trust in womankind he has none:

"No woman ever faithful hold, Unless she ugly be and old."

The full measure of mockery he poured out upon a deceived husband, and the most cutting sarcasm at his command against an enemy is a comparison to crabbed, ugly women:

"I loathe him with the hot and honest hate That fills a rake 'gainst maids he can not bait, With which an ugly hag her gla.s.s reviles, And prost.i.tutes the youths who 'scape their wiles."

His devotion to woman's beauty is altogether in the spirit of his Italian contemporaries. One of his most pleasing sonnets is dedicated to his lady-love's eyes:[54]

"My sweet gazelle! From thy bewitching eyes A glance thrills all my soul with wild delight.

Unfathomed depths beam forth a world so bright-- With rays of sun its sparkling splendor vies-- One look within a mortal deifies.

Thy lips, the gates wherethrough dawn wings its flight, Adorn a face suffused with rosy light, Whose radiance puts to shame the vaulted skies.

Two brilliant stars are they from heaven sent-- Their charm I cannot otherwise explain-- By G.o.d but for a little instant lent, Who gracious doth their l.u.s.trous glory deign, To teach those on pursuit of beauty bent, Beside those eyes all other beauty's vain."

Immanuel's most congenial work, however, is as a satirist. One of his best known poems is a chain of distichs, drawing a comparison between two maidens, Tamar the beautiful, and Beria the homely:

"Tamar raises her eyelids, and stars appear in the sky; Her glance drops to earth, and flowers clothe the knoll whereon she stands.

Beria looks up, and basilisks die of terror; Be not amazed; 'tis a sight that would Satan affright.

Tamar's divine form human language cannot describe; The G.o.ds themselves believe her heaven's offspring.

Beria's presence is desirable only in the time of vintage, When the Evil One can be banished by naught but grimaces.

Tamar! Had Moses seen thee he had never made the serpent of copper, With thy image he had healed mankind.

Beria! Pain seizes me, physic soothes, I catch sight of thee, and it returns with full force.

Tamar, with ringlets adorned, greets early the sun, Who quickly hides, ashamed of his bald pate.

Beria! were I to meet thee on New Year's Day in the morning, An omen 'twere of an inauspicious year.

Tamar smiles, and heals the heart's bleeding wounds; She raises her head, the stars slink out of sight.

Beria it were well to transport to heaven, Then surely heaven would take refuge on earth.

Tamar resembles the moon in all respects but one-- Her resplendent beauty never suffers obscuration.

Beria partakes of the nature of the G.o.ds; 'tis said, None beholds the G.o.ds without most awful repentance.

Tamar, were the Virgin like thee, never would the sun Pa.s.s out of Virgo to s.h.i.+ne in Libra.

Beria, dost know why the Messiah tarries to bring deliverance to men?

Redemption time has long arrived, but he hides from thee."