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This
well-managed association celebrated on the evening of the 14th
December, (being Thanksgiving day in that state,) its twenty-second
anniversary, by a dinner at the Washington Hotel. Judge Noah, the
President of the Society, presided at the festive board, which was
honoured by the presence of many gentile friends of Israel, among whom were the Recorder of the city, several members
of the bar, editors, and the three distinguished musicians now
sojourning in this country, Ole Bull, Vieux Temps, and Wallace. The Rev.
Mr. Isaacs pronounced the blessing; after which, as usual, the customary
sentiments were drunk, one of which, on charity, was prefaced by the
chairman as follows:
Before
I announce the next toast, it gives me pleasure to say, that this
society has collected and expended $3000 during the year. Amongst those
relieved, were many of those from foreign lands, who, unfortunate here,
were desirous to return to their homes in comfort and in peace. There
are many looking to this meeting with anxiety, confident of your good
feeling. To their own people they appeal, for they are never found in
poor houses. I trust—I know, you need no exhortation to duty in this
particular. I give then—"Charity—the first, the highest, and
the most noble obligation of man."
Rev.
Mr. Isaacs rose to reply, and was received with great applause. He
delivered a beautiful address, in substance as follows:
Mr.
Chairman and Gentlemen—In rising to illustrate, by a few remarks, the
toast of "Charity," which has just emanated from our worthy
chairman, I am neither desirous to display any oratorical prowess, nor
anxious to utter vain declamation; for happily the sentiment cannot be
benefitted by the one, or influenced by the other. Charity speaks for
itself in a language universally understood. Its principles are so well
known, so duly appreciated, and so extensively practised, that it may,
in truth, be asserted, the being who can contemplate the rugged paths of
his existence without becoming impressed with the "vale of
tears," is totally unfit to dwell with man, and only suited for
some uninhabitable clime, where the foot of humanity has never left its
impress. Charity is the theological virtue for universal lore. True, it
does not dazzle by its brightness, nor captivate by a meretricious
glare; yet its active virtues shed that serenity which is a solace to
the mind it adorns. Words cannot essay to image its powers. The most
comprehensive language cannot utter half its transcendent worth. All the
powers of oratory cannot depict in sufficiently glowing colours the
benefit it confers on society. It will, therefore, only be attempted to
unveil a portion of its excellence. The Almighty God, who knoweth the
wants of his creatures, and to whom we this day offered our prayers, had
endowed his noblest creature, man, with an innate love to relieve
distress. All the necessary qualifications were, therefore, assigned
him, not alone to confer true dignity and worth, but, at the same time,
to conduce to his own highest attainments and immortal bliss. By the
unequal distribution of blessings and gifts, it was benignly intended
and designed, for the promotion of the general good, that a mutual
dependence should subsist between man and man. That the sphere of
enjoyment might be extended, the pleasure of life improved, charity was
constituted the irrefragable basis of human compacts. Thus, when we
behold one being basking in the sunshine of prosperity, another
enveloped in the clouds of adversity, we argue that such is the will of
Heaven; that thereby He spreads the means of life over all living. Like
the links of a chain, one being depends on the other, and charity is the
unseen cement by which the world is bound together. If, then, such be
charity, considered in the abstract, how superlatively bright does its
light become, if we view its brilliancy as it appears this evening,
beholding men of varying faiths unite at the same festive-board, for the
like purpose, to relieve their fellow-creatures in distress, not as in
days of yore, by prejudice, scholastic subtleties, and polemical
ingenuities, to embitter the springs of life, sowing the seeds of
discord so thick, that ages, long and dreary, reaped its bitter fruits,
but by mutual charity, relieving the distressed, sheltering the
persecuted, healing the wounded, and drying the tear of sorrow, stealing
some rays of the Divinity, and sowing such seeds of excellence, that
future ages will reap fruits of perennial blessings.
Such
is the view I take, gentlemen, of meetings like those, we celebrate this
evening. Not alone do we, for the twenty-second time, make the poor
man's heart glad throughout a long and cheerless winter, but the mental
eye, too, sparkles with delight at the grand scheme of benevolence it
unfolds to his view, a living portraiture of Christian and Jew, mutually
advantageous to both creeds of their adoption; for whilst the Christian
is assured, that in the Israelite he beholds nothing overreaching, but a
good citizen, endowed with the characteristic virtues of Abraham,
charity and faith, it at the same time consoles the Jew in the
reflection, that here, on freedom's soil, he is fully compensated for
all the acts of tyranny and oppression which despotic governments have
for ages inflicted on his co-religionists.
We
are almost inclined to imagine that our lawgiver must have had America
in his "mind's eye," when he so beautifully eulogized the
eagle's characteristics:
The
eagle stirreth up her nest,
Fluttereth o'er her young, spreadeth
Abroad her wings, taketh them,
Beareth them on her wings."
What
tongue could more graphically depict the American ensign? What language
better describe the benevolent land in which we have the happiness to
dwell? Does America not stir up her nest, flutter o'er her young,
manifest the same care for the Jew she does for the Christian? Does she
not spread abroad her wings to take them, whether they have been driven
hither by the tide of adversity, or emigrated from the shores of
oppression? Yet not alone does she receive and guard them, but like the
banner she unfurls, she bears them on her wings; soaring higher than any
other, she does not imitate them by nestling them in her bosom, and when
imaginary danger threatens, hug them to death, but with true benevolence
and undaunted courage, she bears them on her wings, fearless alike of
the frowns of crowned heads, and the jealousy of benighted countries.
She is fully equipped for every danger, and if the arrow of superstition
and bigotry should be drawn from its quiver to injure, it must strike at
her heart ere it can affect the children of her adoption. Stand, proud
and prouder still, heaven-born Columbia! whilst thine ensign is
unfurled, to diffuse light and civilization, to enlarge the boundaries
of religion and virtue, thy "star" is in the ascendent, the
"stripes" which fanaticism and superstition have implanted are
scarcely retained in memory's catalogue; while such continues thy
course, thou hast nought to fear, although the world war against
thee—thou hast a champion who loves benevolence, who will watch over
thee with parental care—it is Israel's God, the Father of the world.
Gladly,
gentlemen, would I now resume my seat, were it not that in the fulness
of my heart, I have been unmindful of my duty to speak for those whose
heart is torn by grief, riven and lacerated by anguish, who look to you,
as the mariner to his compass, to guide him to the haven of repose, and
who await the result of this evening's charity, with anxiety depicted on
their countenance, that you administer soothing relief by "binding
up their wounds," and staunching their bleeding heart; and even at
the expense of being considered tedious, I cannot thus desert my
clients. I stand here not to covet your applause, or to flatter your
feelings, but as a minister of religion engaged in his holiest
duties—that of pleading the cause of poor, suffering humanity, of
speaking for those who, but for you, will scarce have a crumb to gnaw,
or a plank on which to lodge their weary limbs, and this in a cold,
cheerless and arid winter. Is there one in this assembly callous to the
gnawing of misery, the shout of anguish, the cry of despair, or the
piercing shriek of want? Your appearance here denotes the contrary; you
have been invited to gladden the heart
of some care-worn being—to illumine with a smile some countenance
furrowed by grief, and your presence is a guarantee that you are ready
to discharge that sacred and pleasing obligation. Full well I know, my
co-religionists, that you are ever ready to respond to those calls; you
have tears to shed for every misfortune, hearts to relieve every sorrow.
It requires but to touch the sympathetic chord, at once to bring forth
the tear of pity. Who, then, is more entitled to your pity and relief
than the heir of grief? Trace the hardships of the child of misery from
its earliest infancy, as, sapped by sorrow and nursed by poverty, it is
born to inconceivable horror, in a world cold and hard as the straw-bed
of its birth, with scarcely a covering to hide its nakedness. Ah, bitter
and deplorable indeed is the lot of him, who, born to want, brings
neither sin nor virtue, but a superabundance of sorrow. The parents,
too, tied to a cumbrous load of pain and anguish, have not the means of
supporting their offspring; every cry for bread the child utters, sends
an arrow to the parents' heart, penetrating to its very core. Shall I
paint, even in faint colours, the sufferings of some widow, bereft of
all hope? the anguish of some veteran, with scarce enough food to
support his withered frame? Rather let me ask, whether such conditions,
uncontrollable as they are, shall be allowed to remain unmitigated? No!
your liberality this evening will convince the most sceptical that you
are of the Abrahamic seed. You will, by the celestial light of charity,
dissipate the chill horrors and wretched gloom which poverty engenders.
Christian and Jew—by faith divided, in charity united—I conjure you
both, lay this tribute of your zeal on the mighty altars of your faith,
that your rest may be placid, your efforts successful, your lives
serene, and your deaths glorious. Defer not your charity till to-morrow;
but now, while the arrow is on the string, let your donations be as
liberal as the poor are numerous. Here, in such congenial soil, sow the
seeds of charity; and these, above virtue, shall conduct you to
happiness and glory. Here prepare yourselves for superior
communion, and the widow's tear and orphan's prayer shall bring you to
the fountain of substantial enjoyment. Here assimilate the Deity
in benevolence, and the light heaven sent, shall usher you to ecstasy
and endless bliss.. By such means the prediction of the seer will be
accomplished, your lives will be productive of true blessings, and your
souls participate in the unbounded felicity received for the charitable
and righteous.
What
brings my friend on the left, his honour, the Recorder? charity. What so
many members of the bar, and the medical profession? charity. What such
a number of our wealthy merchants? charity. Let us now leave our
fellow-citizens, and ask what brings a Vieux Temps from France, a
Wallace from Scotland, and last, though not least, an Ole Bull from the
Norwegian mountains? charity. The last named gentleman comes most
opportune, at a moment when the rulers of his country have considered
the propriety of admitting Jews to their civil rights; let him, after he
has reaped a bountiful harvest in this land, let him, when he returns to
his fatherland, tell the nobles of Norway that when in the great city of
New York, he dined at the same table with the most wealthy Christians
and Jews, and that it was a mutual benefit to both creeds—they
differed in points of faith, but they were united in charity.
The
Secretary of the Society then read a list of contributors to the funds
of the society. The announcement of the donation of $100 from "Ole
Bull and his friend," was received with deafening applause.
Park
Benjamin then rose and said, "I am requested to state, on the
authority of Vieux Temps and Wallace, that they will give a concert for
the benefit of the funds of this society."
This
was received with a perfect
storm of applause, cheering and waving of handkerchiefs.
Over
two thousand dollars were here collected.
Mr.
Park Benjamin, in a response to a toast, the "Poetry of the
Bible," recited the following beautiful verses, which we extract
from the Herald:
The
chosen ones of Israel are scattered far and wide
Where flows the lordly Tiber, where rolls the Atlantic tide—
By Danubes winding waters, by Hudson's crystal springs,
Dwell the myriad descendants of the Prophet and the Kings.
Abroad
along the valleys are their habitations found—
They are hunters in the forest and tillers of the ground—
The rising sun beholds them in torrid realms afar,
And on their broken legions looks down the northern star.
In
the old world's crowded cities, in the prairies the new,
Unchanged amid all ranges, to their faith for ever true—
Alike by Niger's fountains and Niagara's flood,
Still flow, unmixed, the currents of the grand, heroic blood.
Ye
mourn your lasting exile, your temples strown in dust,
Yet forget not ye the promise of the righteous and the just—
Ye know ye shall be gathered, from every clime and shore,
And be again the chosen of th' Eternal evermore.
From
Assyria, Egypt, Elam—from Pathros, Cush, Shinar—
From Hamath, and the islands of foreign seas afar—
From all the earth's four corners, where Israel's children roam,
Shall the dispersed of Judah throng to their long promised home.
And
again, like some high mountain whose tops are crowned with snow,
Shall the temple's thousand turrets in the golden sunset glow—
And again before their altars shall the congregation stand,
On thy plains, O loved Jerusalem! the happy, holy land!
And
it shall come to pass that the remnant in that day,
Upon the Lord of Hosts above, the great I AM, shall stay:
And the escaped of Jacob, from the paths which they have trod,
Shall return to Him that smote them—your fathers' mighty God!
The
health of Salem Dutcher, Esq., having been proposed, he responded as
follows:
Mr.
President and Gentlemen—The friendship which prompted the toast just
drank, I take pleasure in saying, is not of new growth, but reaches back
to the days of my childhood. For the kind and complimentary manner in
which you received and drank it, I give you my heartfelt thanks. As a
comparative stranger to all, or nearly all of you, I cannot but
acknowledge with gratitude the good feelings you have just manifested
towards me.
But,
gentlemen, after the eloquence, the poetry, and the music we have
witnessed this evening, it would ill become me to say any thing which
might disturb the agreeable excitement these have created in your minds.
In looking over this great meeting, however, composed as it is of the
lineal descendants of our great father, Abraham, gathered now
under one hospitable roof, in a land where freedom dwells, and liberty
extends all her blessings alike upon all, gathered, too, from every
region, country and clime, I cannot help reverting to one scene in your
fathers' history, perhaps the greatest and most magnificent of all, as
illustrative of the present occasion. I refer to that glorious
exhibition of the power of Him who has called you his chosen
people, when He carried your ancestors from Egyptian bondage to a land
flowing in milk and honey. The passage was through a wilderness and
waste. Hostility on one hand, hunger and thirst on the other, sickness
and death followed in the rear. In the midst of these accumulated and
distressing evils, Israel journeyed safely. The cloud and the pillar
were their compass. But here and there, in this vast wilderness, a green
spot was found, watered with pure springs, clothed with perennial
verdure, and here, on these oases, Israel reposed, and quenched
his burning thirst and invigorated his exhausted cattle.
Your
lives and history may be aptly compared to this great scene.
Notwithstanding the perils which have surrounded you, the trials you
have endured, the oppression you have so long suffered, you that are
here have reached in safety Canaan's shore. And if those green spots and
well-springs of life can be compared to any thing on earth else may they
not be aptly compared to such joyous, and festive, and charitable scenes
as this? Here, and in such meetings, we repose from life's dreary waste,
and drink of the sweet waters of friendship and brotherly love, and feed
on the exhibition of the best qualities of our nature.
Gentlemen,
I would not longer trespass on your time. (Cries, Go an, go on.) Well,
then, gentlemen, I can only make one remark further; it is this: as
among the lofty cedar-topped mountains of Lebanon, there is one peak
higher than the rest, and as on that high peak there is one tall cedar
higher than them all, I will claim that cedar as expressive of the
emotions I feel, the happiest of my life. Gentlemen, you have repeatedly
and in every heartfelt variety of phrase and figure, toasted Charity.
I will again toast Charity, and in the words of Avon's bard, say
like
"The
quality of mercy it is not strained;
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven,
Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes."
We
are compelled, as usual, to condense the proceedings which have been
sent us reported in full in the Plebeian; since our space is not so
extensive as to allow us to give of all passing occurrences any more
than a brief outline. It was much to our regret that we could not accept
the invitation which had been sent to us; but official and private
duties do not leave us the power of disposing of our time as we might
wish upon all occasions. Yet though absent we were present in spirit,
and we wish the Society and its worthy officers many happy returns. |
