And his trust was justified. Called ‘heretic’ by some faithful, fearful co-religionists whilst he lived, posterity has deliberately and unanimously reversed their sentence. Among the great men of Israel, Maimonides has long been accorded a place in the foremost rank. ‘From Moses unto Moses,’ says one Jewish proverb, ‘there has been none like unto Moses.’[42] His books, once condemned, forbidden, and burnt in the open market-place, are now among the works which no orthodox Jewish theologian’s library may be without. Some of his doctrines, certainly, still leave room for amicable discussion, but the important hymns of אְדוֹן עוֹלָם and יִנְדַּל which are founded on his teachings have an honoured home in the Jewish prayer-book. =7. The End of his Life.=――In 1204, when not quite seventy years old, Maimonides died, rich in ‘honour, fame, and troops of friends.’ He was happy in his domestic relations, and his honest, earnest belief that the good of all creeds and of all nations have a share in the life to come, made him in full sympathy with ‘all sorts and conditions of men’ in this life. An upright and consistent Jew, he lived on the pleasantest terms with the large Mahomedan circle of which he was a prominent and distinct figure. He was courteous without undue concession, helpful without unnecessary interference, and thus self-respecting, was universally respected. Maimonides had to bear the sorrow of the death of several children, but a good and clever son survived, to follow the great Jewish philosopher to his honoured grave in Tiberias. CHAPTER XXIX. DARKNESS BEFORE THE DAWN. =1. The Stars die out.=――Maimonides was not only the greatest of the fixed stars in the Jewish literary firmament of the Middle Ages, but he was also the last star that found a chance of shining through the ever-gathering gloom. Denser and denser grew the thick clouds, and, one by one, the stars waned and died out. Even had stars continued to arise, brilliant enough and near enough to pierce that terrible thick darkness, life to the Jewish nation was fast becoming so mere a hurrying from death, that the frantic, stumbling struggle would have left little opportunity or inclination for stargazing. There was no leisure to look up. Jews had to ‘take heed to their ways’ in the saddest and most sordid sense. And even the heedfulness was hopeless of result. The brute force, and the bigoted faith, of the age were both arrayed against the Jews, and oppressions culminated in edicts of expulsion. In 1290 the race was exiled from England, in 1394 from France, and in 1492 from Spain.