You all remember the fearful vengeance David took when his ambassadors were disgraced by shaving their Beards.
The Beard continued to be worn in all its glory by these chosen people, and it would be impossible for us to imagine to ourselves the appearance of any of their patriarchs, judges, priests, prophets, or mature kings—or of the sublime founder of our religion—or of the chosen twelve—save the youthful John, without this venerable and venerated feature. What painter would dare such an offence to our most sacred associations, as to represent any of these with the smirking smoothness of razored neatness!
That in Mahomet's time, the Jews still held to their primitive custom, is evident from that lawgiver's command to his followers to clip the whiskers and Beard, in order to distinguish themselves from the Jews. Indeed the latter, in every way most remarkable people, have clung to the prescribed custom with all the force of religious feeling and firm conviction. And however in modern times some of the laity, impelled by a desire to mix unobserved amongst the populations of Western Europe, may have sacrificed conviction to convenience, their Rabbies have remained invariably consistent in their testimony to truth and nature; and one of the most enduring impressions of my youth is the remembrance of the Chief Rabbi Herschel treading the streets of London, like the last of the pro-
