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Gabriel, A Story in Prague

It was the morning of a wintry autumnal day in the year 1620, when a
young man stepped slowly and thoughtfully through the so-called
Pinchas-Synagogue Gate into the Jews' quarter in the city of Prague. A
strange scene presented itself. The morning service was just over in
the synagogues, and whilst numerous crowds were still streaming out of
the houses of prayer, others, mostly women with heavy bunches of keys
in their hands, were already hurrying to the rag-market situated
outside of the Ghetto. The shops too and stalls within the Ghetto were
now opened, and even in the open street an activity never seen in the
other quarters of the city displayed itself. Here, for instance,
dealers--in truth of the lowest class--were offering their wares
consisting of pastry, wheat-bread, fruits, cheese, cabbage, boiled peas
and more of such kind of stuff to the passers-by. Here and there too in
spite of the early hour emerged some peripatetic cooks, in peaceful
competition extolling loudly the products of their kitchen, bits of
liver, eggs, meat and puddings, and whilst in one hand they held a tin
plate, in the other a two-pronged fork,--a very unnecessary article for
most of their guests,--devoted their attention chiefly to the foreign
students of the Talmud. To them also the greatest attention was paid by
those cobblers who less wealthy than their colleagues in the so-called
Golden St. offered their services to the students in open street, and
most assiduously, while the owners were obliged to wait in the street
or a neighbouring house, mended their shoes at a very moderate price,
but, it must also be allowed, in a very inefficient manner.

The young man who had just stepped into the Jew's quarter, gazed
earnestly and observantly at this busy stir, and did not seem to
notice, that he himself had become an object of common attention. His
appearance was however fully calculated to excite observation. His form
was powerful and commanding; his dress that of a Talmud-student, cloak
and cap. Out of his pale face shadowed by a dark beard, under heavy
arching eyebrows there shone two black eyes of uncommon brilliance;
raven locks fell in waves from his head; the fingers of a white sinewy
hand, that held close the silken cloak, were covered with golden rings;
his thick ruff was of spotless purity and smoothness. Had not the
stranger by the elegance of his appearance, perhaps also by his
gigantic make, struck a little awe into the curious dealers in the
street, of a surety at his first appearance, a whole heap of questions
would have been addressed to him. "Who or what he wanted? What could
they do for him?" and such like.... Under the circumstances, however,
it was Abraham, a cobbler, who sat on a bench by the Pinchas-Synagogue
that after some consideration mustered up courage and as he laid down a
shoe that had been committed to his artistic skill, began to ask: "dear
student! whom are you seeking? Certainly not me, that I can see from
your beautifully made shoes with their glittering silver buckles;
_they_ were not made at Prague."--This was put in more for the benefit
of those about him and himself than the stranger.--"You are surely a
stranger here? pardon me, you are perhaps a German, a Moravian or a
Viennese? do you wish to go to a lecture upon the Talmud, or perchance
to the Rabbi, or to Reb Lippman Heller? Who do you want to go to? I
will gladly shew you the way to the Talmud-lecturers--or, perhaps, you
are looking out for a lodging? I can very likely procure you a
convenient one." "I _am_ a stranger here," replied the student, "and
must, indeed, first of all look about me for a lodging. If you happen
to know of an apartment where I could pursue my studies undisturbed I
shall thankfully avail myself of your offer: but the apartment must be
large, light and cheerful."

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Gabriel, A Story in Prague