their oppressors. And the familiar story of ancient Egypt and its tyrants would soon lead up to the more recent barbarities in Spain and Portugal. Possibly, nay most probably, there were strangers, guests at table for hospitality had become, not a luxury, but a necessity among the wandering Jews. Perhaps some recent arrival, fresh from the hell-fires of the Inquisition, would relate the latest story of martyrdom. On such an occasion it may have been that Spinoza heard of the martyrdom of "a certain Judah, called the Faithful, who in the midst of the flames, and when he was already believed to be dead, commenced to chant the psalm To thee, God, I commit my Soul, and died singing it."[1] But the ground-notes of the Passover evening celebrations were those of courage, and faith that the Guardian of Israel neither slumbered nor slept.
There were also other celebrations of Israel's deliverance in the past. There was the Feast of Lights, or of the Re-dedication of the Temple (Chanukah) in memory of the brave Maccabees. A whole week was more or less spent as a half-holiday, and given to games and merriment. The spirit of the holiday is well expressed in a gay table-hymn composed by Ibn Ezra, the poet and commentator of whom Spinoza thought so highly. The following are the opening stanzas:
" Eat dainty foods and fine,
And bread baked well and white,
With pigeons, and red wine,
On this Sabbath Chanukah night.
CHORUS.
" Your chattels and your lands
Go and pledge, go and sell!
Put money in your hands,
To feast Chanukah well!"[2]
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