A Second Daniel; A Tudor Intrigue by Neal Roberts

I was drawn to the title of this book which appeared on a list of books that could be downloaded, and seized the opportunity to read it on my Kindle as I recognized the quote from The Merchant of Venice, and was intrigued to find out more about it. I had studied Tudor England at school as well as English literature, and was hoping to expand my knowledge of those subjects. To my surprise, when I began to read the first few pages I found that I was reading about secret Jews in England at the time of Queen Elizabeth the First.

The theme of Jews in sixteenth century England, after they had been expelled from the country two hundred years earlier and had not been officially allowed to return, recurs throughout the book. However, the main subject deals with the English legal system of the time and its relation to the Magna Carta, and this is presented in considerable detail. The (partly true) events surrounding the plot to accuse and convict the queen’s physician, a Jew by the name of Rodrigo Lopez, also feature prominently in the book, and the way the author weaves the various fictitious and real characters and events together is truly worthy of admiration.

As I found out on reading the afterword, the author is a professor of jurisprudence and an amateur historian, and in the novel he displays his admirable erudition on both subjects to the full. We also gain insights into the wider society and customs of the time as well as the machinations, conspiracies and deceptions that characterize the conduct of the aristocracy, the royal court, and the legal system. The picture that the reader gains is of a highly complex and necessarily unfair society in which some attempts are being made to introduce greater impartiality and equality before the law.

I’m not certain that the average reader will appreciate this book, which as well as imparting considerable knowledge also requires a modicum of intelligence in order to enjoy the references to contemporary literature and culture. On the other hand, the informed reader can derive a great deal of pleasure from recognizing these references. The violence and brutality that attended the legal and social system of the time also casts a shadow over the events described in the book, and the course of events leading to the execution of Dr. Lopez are documented and described in detail.

There are several parallels to the trial scene in The Merchant of Venice, and the events surrounding the actual trial and death of Dr. Lopez may well have served to inspire Shakespeare to write his play. The legal status of Jews in England at the time was precarious, to say the least, though the fact that Lopez was able to serve as the queen’s physician indicates that exceptions could be made. Fortunately, the author spares us a graphic description of Lopez’s death, although the mere knowledge of it is enough to give anyone nightmares.

Ravel’s Bolero

 

After a week of cultural delights in Vienna, we spent a week in France to recover from our exertions before returning to Israel a few days ago. And so it was that, as usual, on our first full day in the beautiful Limousin region we tuned our radio to the classical music programme. As the hours passed the realization gradually dawned that from seven in the morning throughout the day we were being subjected to the same piece of music played over and over again: Ravel’s Bolero.

That particular piece of music is popular all over the world, and has accompanied several films as well as being played on radio programmes and in numerous concert halls in variations and arrangements of all kinds. That day, on the French radio, we heard every possible combination of instruments and assorted ensembles, but always maintaining that consistent rat-a-tat-a-tat rhythm, sometimes augmented by additional syncopations. Hearing the Bolero once or twice or even thrice in succession, interspersed by chit-chat and commentary by various experts in the studio, is all well and good, but twelve straight hours of the same interminable tune eventually becomes tedious, annoying even, and eventually maddening. Yes, from seven in the morning until seven in the evening (and possibly even beyond, but I had switched the radio off by then) that was all we heard.

Like classical music programmes all over the world, the French one has its good and bad points. Fair enough, one hears a lot of music by French composers, there is a general aversion to playing an entire work, e.g., all four movements of a symphony by Beethoven, and the broadcasting day always ends (after eleven p.m.) with jazz, but on the whole there is variety and interest. That, however, was not the case on that day in early May.

The reason for the repetition was revealed a few days later when I read the Figaro newspaper of the following weekend. It turns out that from the first of May 2016 it is no longer necessary to pay royalties on performances of the Bolero to Evelyne Pen de Castel, the daughter of the second wife of the husband of the masseuse of Ravel’s brother’s wife. Get that? As the Figaro points out, the situation was ‘Ubuesque,’ but it meant that a great deal of money continued to pour into the coffers of the happy heiress. But no longer. Finito della Commedia.

And so, it would seem, the French radio took the opportunity to cock a collective snook at the unfortunate lady, who presumably – perhaps even hopefully – squirmed as she thought of all the royalties she would not be earning on that particular day. It’s consoling to think of those serious and respectable producers at the French classical music programme rubbing their hands in glee as they planned that day’s programming, their eyes lighting up with the joy of schadenfreude (no English equivalent exists for that particular emotion, and that is interesting in itself).

They say that revenge is a dish best eaten cold, and I can only hope that those faceless men and women behind the microphone enjoyed their meal.

 

 

 

 

Hoppe Hoppe Reiter

Now that we are well and truly entrenched in the digital age it comes as no surprise to find that this has been adopted and adapted to its own ends by the community of Jews originally from German-speaking lands, otherwise known as Yekkes.

Ever since I joined Facebook some time ago I am constantly bombarded by homilies about how best to conduct my life, pictures of kittens, puppies and babies, and occasionally also edifying information about world developments, ideas, and of course jokes. I do my best to keep up with this flood of data, but am starting to feel that I am increasingly being inundated with indigestible material

There are, however, one or two points of light in the barrage, and among them are two groups intended for Jews originally from German-speaking countries. The first such group, entitled ‘Hoppe Hoppe Reiter,’ is based in Israel and tends to display family photos and accounts of the life and times of the members of the group from before the war. And, of course, their descendants. One by-product of this virtual group has been the establishment of physical groups that meet in various places in Israel. I belong to the one here in Jerusalem which meets every two weeks to talk about a variety of subjects, but always only in German. The group meets in the offices of the Association of Jews from Central Europe, and is led by the ever-energetic Ilana Alroy-Brosh, who is considerably younger than most of the members. These are people (mainly women) who were born in Israel or abroad to German-speaking parents, heard and spoke German at home as children, but now no longer have anyone with whom to converse in German.

I personally do not fit into that category because in wartime England it was not considered appropriate to speak in German, and so I grew up hearing English spoken at home. Luckily, both of my parents spoke English well, and although in my childhood I was aware of their foreign accents I had no desire to speak any other language, and did not even take up the option of learning German at school. It was only much later in my life, in the last fifteen years or so, that I have been studying German in order to be able to read the documents and correspondence my parents brought out of Germany with them in 1938 as well as other material. My German isn’t as native as that of the other members of the group, but I manage to understand what’s going on and even add my little bit to the conversation from time to time.

In the group of German speakers we generally decide on a topic for discussion at the next meeting and are sometimes asked to prepare suitable material to illustrate our contribution. When the topic was children’s books we were treated to original editions of Struwwelpeter and I even found myself joining in when everyone sang Hänschen Klein, though I have no idea where or when I learned it. And no, we did not play Hoppe Hoppe Reiter with one another. At another meeting we were asked to talk about our childhood hobbies and were treated to impressive themed collections of stamps, paper serviettes, transfers, and even a couple of professional-looking puppets made entirely by one of the participants. One participant is an expert chocolatière, so you can imagine how we delighted in what she had brought along.

The other Facebook group is run by another energetic lady, this time in America. The group, known as JEWS, Jews Engaging Worldwide in Social Networking, is run by Vera Meyer, who hails from Boston, I believe. The group posts items of interest to the Yekke community as well as potted biographies of individuals and families. As is the case with the Hoppe Hoppe Reiter group, the posts are in a variety of languages, mainly English and German but also Hebrew and even occasionally Spanish, French or Italian. New members are welcomed and asked to send a small autobiography and account of their family. In this way people who are scattered all over the world are given a sense of community and are able to get in touch with their roots.

[This article originally appeared in the May issue of AJR Journal]