These misfortunes were more advantageous than injurious to the neo-Chassidim. They spread in the north, and whilst hitherto they had been able to carry on their cult only in small, comparatively young communities, from this time they gained ground in the large and old congregations. Their numbers had already grown to such an extent that they formed two branches—the Mizriczians and the Karlinians—the former called after their original home, the latter after the village of Karlin, near Pinsk. The Karlinians spread as far as Wilna and Brody. At first they proceeded cautiously. As soon as at least ten persons had assembled, they looked for a room (Stübel) in which to conduct their services; there they practiced the rites of their creed, and sought to gain new adherents; but all this was skillfully done, so that nothing came to light before they had secured a firm foothold. In Lithuania their system was not yet known, and thus at first they aroused no suspicion.
The first violent attack upon them was made by a man whose influence was blessed during his lifetime, and even after death, and who, in a more favorable environment, might, like Mendelssohn, have effected much for the moral advancement of his co-religionists. Elijah Wilna (born 1720; died 1797), whose name, with the title of "Gaon," is still mentioned by the Lithuanian Jews with reverence and love, was a rare exception among the mass of the Polish Jews. He was of the purest character, and possessed high talents, which he did not put to perverted uses. It suffices to say of his character that in spite of his comprehensive and profound Talmudical erudition, he refused a post as rabbi, in contrast to most scholars in Poland, who were office-seekers, and obtained rabbinates by artifice. In spite of the marvelous fertility of his pen in many domains of Jewish literature, he allowed nothing to be published during his lifetime, again in contradistinction to contemporary students, who, in order to make a name and to see their ideas in print, scarcely waited till the ink of their compositions was dry. In his disinterestedness, Elijah Wilna realized the ideal of the Talmud, that a teacher of Judaism "should use the Law neither as a crown to adorn himself therewith, nor as a spade to dig therewith." In spite of the superiority of his knowledge and the full and general recognition accorded him, he modestly and conscientiously avoided asserting himself. The gratification that results from research, from the seeking of knowledge, completely satisfied him. His intellectual method corresponded in its unaffected simplicity with his character and life. As a matter of course, the Talmud and all the branches connected with or dependent on it filled his mind. But he disliked the corrupt method of his countrymen, who indulged in hair-splitting, casuistry, and subtleties. His sole aim was to penetrate to the simple sense of the text; he even made an attempt at the critical examination and emendation of texts, and by his undistorted explanations he blew down the houses of cards which the subtle Talmudists had erected upon quicksand.
It required extraordinary mental force to swim against the high tide of custom and rise above the aberrations into which all the sons of the Talmud in Poland had fallen. In point of fact Elijah Wilna stood isolated in his time. It seemed as though from his youth he had been afraid of following the errors of his compatriots, for he attached himself to no special school, but, strange to say, was his own teacher in the Talmud. Talmudical studies did not exclusively occupy his mind. Elijah Wilna devoted great attention to the Bible—a rarity in his circle—and, what was still more unusual, he acquainted himself with the grammar of the Hebrew language. Unlike his compatriots, he by no means despised a knowledge of extra-Talmudic subjects, but studied mathematics, and wrote a book upon geometry, algebra, and mathematical astronomy. He exhorted his disciples and friends to interest themselves in profane sciences, and openly expressed his conviction that Judaism would be the gainer from such studies. Only his scrupulous piety, his immaculate conduct, his unselfishness, and his renunciation of every office and position of honor, saved him from the charge of heresy on account of his pursuing extra-Talmudical branches of knowledge.
Elijah Wilna, above all, implanted a good spirit in the Lithuanian Jews. He taught his sons and disciples to seek simplicity and avoid the casuistry of the Polish method. In Elijah Wilna the beautiful Talmudical saying was exemplified, "He who flees from honors is sought out by them." At an early age he was recognized, even outside of Poland, as an authority and a man of truth. Yet even Elijah was subject to the delusion that the hateful Kabbala was a true daughter of Judaism, and contained true elements. He deeply lamented the moral ruin wrought by the Kabbala among Podolian and Galician Jews, through the rascally Frank, who had driven them into the arms of the Church, and made them enemies to the Synagogue; yet he could not free himself from it. Even when the danger of these false doctrines was brought home to him by the rise of the Chassidim, and he was compelled openly to oppose them, he could not relinquish his blind fondness for the Kabbala.
The neo-Chassidim, or Karlinians, had crept into Wilna, and had established a secret "Stübel" for their noisy conventicles. A trusty friend of their leader, and an emissary sent by him, had stealthily introduced their cult into the town, and won over several members of the Wilna community. Their meetings, their proceedings, and their derision of the Talmudists, were betrayed. The whole congregation were greatly excited at this. They were indignant that the Karlinians impudently asserted of the respected Elijah Wilna, that, like his occupation and his belief, his life was a lie. The elders and rabbis forthwith took counsel. The Chassidic conventicles were straightway attacked, investigations set on foot, and trials instituted. Writings were found among the Chassidim, which contained the principle that all sadness was to be avoided, even in the repentance for sins. But greatest uneasiness was aroused by the alterations in the liturgy and the disrespectful utterances against the rabbis. Elijah Wilna, who, although he filled no official position, was always invited to the council meetings, and had an important voice in its decisions, took a very serious view of the matter. He beheld in the Chassidic aberration a continuation of Frank's excesses and corrupting influence. The otherwise gentle and meek man became a veritable fanatic. The rabbis and the chiefs of the community, together with Elijah Wilna, addressed a letter to all the large communities, directing them to keep a sharp eye upon the Chassidim, and to excommunicate them until they abandoned their erroneous views. Several congregations immediately obeyed this injunction. In Brody, during the fair, in the presence of many strangers, the ban was published against all those who prayed noisily, deviated from the German synagogue ritual, wore white robes on Sabbath and the festivals, and were guilty of other strange customs and innovations. Elijah Wilna's circle launched a vigorous denunciatory pamphlet against the offenders. This was the first blow that the Chassidim experienced. In addition, their leader, Beer Mizricz, died in the same year (1772)—the rabbis imagined in consequence of the excommunication—and thus they felt themselves utterly deserted. Owing to the weakness of the king, and the greed of the neighboring nations, the kingdom of Poland was dismembered. Through this disorganization the union of the Chassidim was broken, and the separated members became dependent upon the legislature, or the arbitrary treatment, of various governments.
However, this storm did not crush them; they remained firm, and did not display the slightest sign of submitting to their opponents (Mithnagdim). On the contrary, the struggle made them more active and energetic. They were not deeply moved by the ban under which they had been placed; this weapon, blunted since the contest for and against Jonathan Eibeschütz, could no longer inflict wounds. The Chassidim, grown to the number of fifty or sixty thousand, formed themselves into small groups, each with a leader, called Rebbe. Their itinerant preachers encouraged the individual communities to persevere in their tenets, and to accept persecution as a salutary trial. The connection of the groups with one another was maintained in this way; a chief from the family of Beer Mizricz was placed at the head as the supreme Zaddik, to whom the various Rebbe were subordinate, and for whose use they were to set aside a portion of their income. The possible apostasy of members through the onslaughts from Wilna was met by the order that the Chassidim might read no work that had not received the approval of the Chassidic authorities. Obedience towards their leaders had taken so deep a root in the minds of the Chassidim that they never transgressed this prohibition. Their chiefs distributed among them the sermons or collections of sayings supposed to have been written by Israel Baalshem, or Beer Mizricz, which emphasized the high importance of the Zaddik, of the Chassidic life, and of scorn for the Talmudists—vile writings, which were nevertheless read with admiration by the members, who were kept in a constant state of intoxication. What had hitherto been optional and individual was raised by these writings to the rank of statutes and stringent laws.
After Beer's death, two men chiefly contributed to the exaltation of Chassidism, one through his unbounded enthusiasm, the other by his scholarship. These men, neither of whom is open to suspicion, were Israel of Kozieniza (north of Radom) and Salman of Liadi, both Beer's disciples.
So strong did the Chassidim again become, that a second interdict had to be fulminated against them. This time also the persecution originated in Wilna, and was instigated by Elijah Wilna. The Chassidim were declared to be heretics, with whom no pious Jew might intermarry (summer of 1781). Two messengers were sent from Wilna to the Lithuanian congregations to induce them to support the ban. In consequence of this, the collections of Chassidic sermons and other writings, although they contained sentences from Holy Writ, were publicly burnt in Brody and Cracow. In Selvia, near Slonim, during the fair, in the presence of large numbers of Jews, the ban was publicly promulgated against the Chassidim and their writings (August 21, 1781); but these obsolete methods were of little use. In the Austrian Polish provinces (Galicia) other means were employed by the disciples of the Mendelssohn school against the stultifying system of the Chassidim. The decree of Joseph II, that schools for instruction in German and elementary subjects be established in all Jewish communities, encountered vigorous resistance from all Jews, but especially from Chassidim. In the belief that culture would improve the demoralized and barbarous state of the people, a small body of men, Mendelssohn's admirers, strove zealously to oppose them. Among the most ardent workers for the enlightenment of the Galician Jews was Alexander Kaller. Kaller and his associates probably obtained a decree from the court at Vienna, commanding that no Chassidic or Kabbalistic writings be admitted into Galicia (1785). After the second partition of Poland, denunciations were also leveled against the Chassidim in Russian Poland as dangerous to the state. Salman of Liadi was dragged in chains to St. Petersburg. Elijah Wilna is said to have been the instigator of this charge, too; indeed, he persecuted the sect as long as he lived. After his death the Chassidim took vengeance upon him by dancing upon his grave, and celebrating the day of his decease as a holiday, with shouting and drunkenness. All efforts made to suppress the Chassidim were in vain, because in a measure they represented a just principle, that of opposing the excesses of Talmudism. Before the end of the eighteenth century they had increased to 100,000 souls. At the present day they rule in congregations where they were formerly persecuted, and they are spreading on all sides.
The Progressionists—The Gatherer (Meassef)—David Mendes—Moses Ensheim—Wessely's Mosaid—Marcus Herz—Solomon Maimon—Culture of the Berlin Jews—Influence of French Literature—First Step for Raising the Jews—The Progressive and Orthodox Parties—The Society of Friends—Friedländer and Conversion—Depravity of Berlin Jewesses—Henrietta Herz—Humboldt—Dorothea Mendelssohn—Schlegel—Rachel—Schleiermacher—Chateaubriand.
1786–1791 C. E.
The state of the German Jews, among whom the battle against unreason began, was more satisfactory than that of the Polish Jews. In Germany youthful activity and energy asserted themselves, an impulse to action that promised to repair in a short space of time the neglect of centuries. Great enthusiasm suddenly sprang up, which produced wonderful, or at least surprising, results, and overcame the benumbing effects of apathy. Young men tore the scepter from the grasp of the aged, and desired to preach new wisdom, or rather to rejuvenate the old organism of Judaism with new sap. The synagogue might well have exclaimed, "Who hath begotten me these, seeing I have lost my children, and am desolate, a captive, and removing to and fro? and who hath brought up these?" A new spirit had come upon these youths, which, in one night, put an end to their isolation, and transformed them into organs for historical reconstruction. As if by agreement they suddenly closed the ponderous folios of the Talmud, turned away from it, and devoted themselves to the Bible, the eternal fount of youth. Mendelssohn's Pentateuch translation poured out a new spirit over them, furnished them with a new language, and infused new poetry into them. Whence this body of spirited young men? What had hitherto been their course of education? Why were they so powerfully influenced? Suddenly they made their appearance, prophesied a new future, without knowing exactly what they prophesied, and, scarce fledged, soared aloft. From Poland to Alsace, from Italy to Amsterdam, London, and Copenhagen, new voices were heard, singing in harmonious union. Their significance lay wholly in their harmony; singly, the voices appear thin, piping, and untrained; only when united do they give forth a pleasant and impressive tone. Those who had but recently learnt to appreciate the beauties of Hebrew, came forward as teachers, to re-establish in its purity a language, so greatly disfigured, so generally used, and so continually abused. Inspired by ideals which the sage of Berlin had conjured up, they desired to pave the way to a thorough understanding of Holy Writ, to acquire a taste for poetry, and awaken zeal for science. Carried away by ardor, they ignored the difficulties in the way of a people, internally and externally enslaved, which seeks to raise itself to the heights of poetry and philosophy, and therefore they succeeded in accomplishing the revival. On the whole they achieved more than Mendelssohn, their admired prototype, because the latter was too cautious to take a step that might have an untoward result. But these youths pressed boldly forward, for they had no reputation to lose, and represented no interests that could be compromised.
This result was produced by a material and an ideal circumstance. Frederick's eagerness for money, his desire to enrich the land, almost compelled the Jews, especially those of Berlin, to accumulate capital. Owing to their manufactories, speculations, and enormous enterprises on the one hand, and their moderate manner of living on the other, the first Jewish millionaires arose in Berlin, and by their side many houses in affluent circumstances. But what could be done with these riches? To the nobility and the court, Jews were not admitted; the Philistine burghers closed their doors against these Jewish upstarts, whom they regarded with envy. There thus remained for wealthy Jews only literary intercourse, for which they have always had a preference. All or the majority had in their youth made the acquaintance of the Talmud, and were intimate with the world of books. This circumstance gave their efforts an ideal character: they did not worship Mammon alone; reading in their leisure hours was a necessity to them. As soon as German literature had been naturalized in their midst through Mendelssohn, they included it in their circle of studies, either with the serious object of cultivating themselves or to be in accord with fashion. In this matter they excelled the Christian citizens, who as a rule did not care for books. Jewish merchants, manufacturers, and bankers interested themselves in literary productions, as if they belonged to a guild of learned men, using for them the time that Christian citizens and workmen passed in drinking.
The first movement was made in Königsberg, a kind of colony to Berlin. In this town certain men had acquired wealth by their industry and circumspection, and shared in the culture dawning in Germany under the influence of French literature. Three brothers named Friedländer (Bärmann, Meyer, and Wolf) were the leaders. To this family belonged David Friedländer (born 1750, died 1834), a servile imitator of Mendelssohn, who by means of his connection by marriage with the banking-house of Daniel Itzig, obtained influence in Berlin (since 1771), and brought about close intercourse between Berlin and Königsberg. He also took part in the promotion of the revival among Jews. It was an event in the history of the Königsberg Jews, when Mendelssohn stayed there for several days while on a business journey. He was visited by distinguished persons, professors and authors, and was treated with extraordinary attention. Immanuel Kant, the profound thinker, publicly embraced him. This trifling occurrence gave to the cultured Jews of Königsberg a sort of consciousness that the Jew can by self-respect command the regard of the ruling classes. Moreover, the Königsberg University, at the instigation of certain liberal-minded teachers, especially Kant, admitted Jewish youths thirsting for knowledge as students and academical citizens. Among these young men, trained partly on Talmudical, partly on academical lines, there were two who awakened a new spirit, or rather, continued the quiet activity of Mendelssohn with greater effect. These were Isaac Abraham Euchel and Mendel Bresselau, both tutors employed by the wealthy, culture-loving Friedländers. Isaac Euchel, through Mendelssohn and Wessely, had acquired a dignified, correct Hebrew style contrasting most favorably with the corrupt language hitherto employed. His younger companion, Mendel Bresselau, who afterwards took part in the great contest against the old school, was of more importance. He was truly an artist in the Hebrew tongue, and without elaboration or ambiguity he applied biblical phraseology to modern conditions and circumstances. He took as his model the poet Moses Chayim Luzzatto, and like him composed a moral drama, entitled "Youth." Supported by two young members of the wealthy Friedländer family, Euchel and Bresselau, during the lifetime of Mendelssohn, and at the time of Wessely's conflict with the ultra-orthodox (spring, 1783), issued a summons to the whole Jewish world to establish a society for the promotion of the Hebrew language (Chebrath Dorshe Leshon Eber), and to found a journal to be called "The Gatherer" (Meassef). They had reckoned upon the support of Wessely, already recognized as an authority upon style, and had asked contributions from him, who, as they expressed themselves, "had taken down the harps from the willows of Babylon, and had drawn forth new songs from them." The aged poet gladly joined the young men, but, as if he had had a foreboding of the ultimate result, he warned them against turning their darts against Judaism, and in general against employing satire. Their summons found widespread response. They had chosen the right means to advance culture, and they satisfied a real want. The Hebrew language in its purity and chastity could alone accomplish the union between Judaism and the culture of the day.
"The Gatherer" found most encouragement in Berlin, the capital of Jewish culture. Here numerous literary contributions and material support were forthcoming. In this city lived a number of youths moved by the same aspirations as Euchel and Bresselau, who fostered enthusiasm for the Hebrew language, and renewed its youth. Not too proud to enter into rivalry with beginners, Mendelssohn also contributed a few Hebrew poems anonymously. It is characteristic of the newly-aroused spirit, that the fine introductory Hebrew verses in the periodical are represented as being written by a young child who modestly begs admittance, as if henceforth, not the grey-headed Eliphaz, but the youthful Elihu was to be spokesman, and lay down the law. Fresh names appeared in the newly-established organ, and their owners, under the collective name of Measfim, contributors to "The Gatherer" (Meassef, first published in the autumn of 1783), mark a definite tendency, a Sturm und Drang period of neo-Hebraic literature. Another pair of friends of Euchel and Bresselau afterwards undertook the editorship; these were Joel Löwe and Aaron Halle, or Wolfssohn—the one an earnest inquirer, the other a bold iconoclast, who first verified Wessely's fears, and, in a dialogue between Moses Maimonides and Moses Mendelssohn, subjected unprogressive Judaism to scathing criticism.
Two Poles residing in Berlin, Isaac Satanow and Ben-Zeeb, most accomplished masters of Hebrew style, also belonged to the Measfim, but their studies in German culture had an injurious effect upon their moral character. Besides, the small number of contributors to the "Gatherer" was swelled by Wolf Heidenheim, a strange man, who equally abhorred the crudeness and folly of the old system, and the frivolity and sophistry of the new, and banished his ill-humor by pedantically exact grammatical and Masoretic studies on the lines of the old masters. By his carefully arranged editions of old writings, if he did not destroy, he at least curbed, the old habits of slovenliness and carelessness.
The cultivators of Hebrew stretched out friendly hands to each other across widely-sundered districts, and formed a kind of brotherhood which spread to Holland, France, and Italy. David Friedrichsfeld was also an enthusiast for the Hebrew language and biblical literature. He possessed such delicate appreciation of the beauties of the language, that an ill-chosen Hebrew word caused him pain. He constantly insisted upon pure forms and expressions, and was a cultivated and severe judge. In his youth, Friedrichsfeld had chosen the better fate, by turning his back upon Prussia, so cruel to the Jews, and emigrating to the free city of Amsterdam. He heartily welcomed, with youthful ardor, the plan for the study of Hebrew, and lived to enjoy the good fortune of celebrating in Hebrew verse the complete emancipation of the Jews in Holland. At his proposition, the Jewish poets in Holland joined the ranks of the Measfim. The most renowned was David Franco Mendes in Amsterdam (born 1713; died 1792). He was descended from a Marrano family, was a disciple of the poet Luzzatto when the latter lived in Amsterdam, and took him as a pattern. A series of occasional poems, in the form of the Judæo-Spanish poetry of the seventeenth century, had gained him a name which was increased by his Hebrew historical drama, "The Punishment of Athalia" (Gemul Athalia). It distressed Franco Mendes to see how the Jews turned away from Hebrew to the fashionable French literature, because the latter produced beautiful, artistic works, whilst the Hebrew language seemed smitten with sterility. This disgrace Mendes desired to blot out, and, following in the wake of Racine and Metastasio, he undertook to dramatize the interesting history of the royal boy Joash who, to be protected from murderous hands, was brought up secretly in the Temple, and of the downfall of the bloodthirsty queen Athalia.
In France the Hebrew literature of the Measfim was represented by Moses Ensheim (Einsheim), or Moses Metz, who for several years was private tutor to Mendelssohn's children. He was a mathematician of great repute, whose work has been praised by qualified authorities of the first rank. Thus he wrote a work upon Integral and Differential Calculus, which won the applause of Lagrange and Laplace. But he never published any of his writings. He only gave voice to triumphal songs in Hebrew upon the victory of freedom over slavery in France, and some of these were sung in the synagogues. Ensheim influenced an advocate (Grégoire) of the liberation of his co-religionists in France, and provided him with material wherewith to defend them. Ensheim formed a contrast to an older teacher in Mendelssohn's house, Herz Homberg, a great favorite with Mendelssohn. The latter was deceived in him, and trusted in him too far when he invited his co-operation in the Pentateuch translation. Homberg was of a prosaic nature, actuated wholly by selfish motives, and was somewhat of a place-hunter. Through Homberg, during his stay in Görz, and Elijah Morpurgo, who corresponded with Mendelssohn and Wessely, the educational influence of the Measfim penetrated to Italy; and the younger generation, which afterwards united with the French Jews, drew inspiration from that source.
In this manner, the Hebrew language and neo-Hebraic poetry became a bond of union for the Jews of Western Europe, to some extent embracing also the Jews of Poland, and led the way to an astonishingly swift and enduring revival. The Hebrew tongue was known to almost all Jews, with the exception of a few ignorant villagers, and afforded an excellent medium for propagating European culture. Thousands of youths who studied the Talmud in various colleges, gradually, for the greater part secretly, took an active share in the movement, and drank deep draughts from the stream of innovation. Thus, with the expected deliverance from political oppression, which had already been realized in various places, there arose a peculiar excitement and confusion. The old and the new mingled, forming a kind of a spiritual hotch-potch. The question was raised whether or not, beside the Talmud, it was allowed to engage in biblical studies and profane literature, to cultivate philosophy, and in general to study the sciences (Chochmoth). The great rabbis, Ezekiel Landau, Raphael Cohen, and others, condemned such studies, whilst Mendelssohn and Wessely, blamelessly pious men, not only permitted, but even recommended them for the elevation of Judaism. Of the old and respected authorities, some permitted them and even occupied themselves therewith, whilst others prohibited and held aloof from them, as from some seductive sin. These important questions presented themselves to thinking Jewish young men, and gave rise to much disquietude. For the greater number the charm of novelty, the attractive language of the representatives of the new tendency, or the inclination to cast off burdensome ritual fetters decided the question. The number of those interested in the periodical, "The Gatherer," increased from year to year. The death of Mendelssohn also exerted a decided influence. His pupils—as such, all the Measfim regarded themselves—deified him, glorified him in bright colors, idealized him and his eventful history in prose and verse, pointed him out as an ideal worthy of imitation, and turned his renown to advantage in their cause. They went a step further, or widened the extent of their activity, aiming not merely at ennobling the Hebrew language, but at refinement in general. They called themselves "The Society for the Good and the Noble" (from 1787), without being able to define their purpose. The all-powerful stream of innovation could not be stemmed by the adherents of the old school. Unskillfully they attempted to vindicate the old system, exaggerating the dangers, and thereby losing all influence.
Thus in almost every large community, there arose a party of the "Enlightened" or "the Left," which had not yet broken with the old school, but whose action bordered upon secession. By the ultra-orthodox they were denounced as heretics, on account of their preference for pure language and form, both in Hebrew and European literature. This abusive name hurt them but little, and rather afforded them a certain amount of satisfaction. The outcome of the work of the Measfim was that they stirred men's minds, extending their range of observation, and leading them to ennobling thoughts and acts; but these writers did not leave any permanent results. Not a single production of the circle has enduring value. Their best performance was Wessely's swan-song, which possesses literary, if not artistic worth. Roused perhaps by the astonishment of Herder, the admirer of ancient Hebrew poetry, that no poet had celebrated the miracles of the departure from Egypt—whose center was the sublime prophet Moses—Wessely determined to compose a neo-Hebraic epic. Animated by the spirit of the prophets, there poured from his pen smooth, well-rounded, euphonious verses, which unroll before the eye the grand events that occurred from the cruel bondage in Egypt till the miraculous passage of the Red Sea and the wanderings in the wilderness. "Songs of Glory" Wessely called his Hebrew heroic poem, his Mosaid. In fact his verses and strophes are beautifully arranged and perfect in form. It is the best work that the school of the Measfim produced. Wessely's epic was so much admired that two Christian poets, Hufnagel and Spalding, rendered the first two cantos into German. The Mosaid is, however, by no means a masterpiece; it lacks the breath of true poetry, fancy and loftiness of conception. It is merely a history of the origin of the Israelites transcribed into verse, or, more correctly, a versified commentary on the Pentateuch. This criticism holds of the school as a whole; its disciples were good neo-Hebraic stylists, but as poets their ability was not even mediocre.
The appearance of the "Gatherer" aroused attention in Christian circles. The old assailant of the Jews, Michaelis, could not remain silent. Others greeted it as the dawn promising a fair day; it was in fact daybreak for the Jewish race. What is the distinction of a cultured people? Next to gentle manners, it consists in taste for harmonious forms and in the power to produce artistic creations. This taste and power, lost through external oppression and internal disorganization, were re-awakened among the Jews by the organ of the Measfim. To elevate the Jewish race to the rank of the cultured nations, nothing new was required; it was merely necessary that a comprehension of the beauties and sublimities of their own literature be inculcated.
In this period, the Jews owned profound philosophical thinkers, if not of the first, certainly of the second rank, who in acuteness of intellect almost surpassed Mendelssohn. Three are especially to be mentioned, who, though trained in the Mendelssohnian system, soon recognized its weaknesses, and directed their minds to new paths: these were Marcus Herz, Solomon Maimon, and Ben-David. The events of their lives picture on a small scale how the Jewish race as a whole worked its way from degradation and ignorance to freedom and enlightenment. Marcus (Mordecai) Herz (born in Berlin, 1747, where he died 1803) was the son of poor parents, and his father, like Mendelssohn's, supported himself and his family by copying Hebrew manuscripts. He received his Talmudical education in the school founded by Ephraim Veitel. Owing to poverty he was unable in spite of his talents to continue his studies, but at fifteen years of age was compelled to go to Königsberg as an apprentice. The desire for knowledge soon withdrew him from business and led him to the University, as the Albertina at that time admitted Jewish youths to the medical department. Philosophy, however, exerted greater attraction upon him. Herz was regarded as being gifted with the "keen mind peculiar to the Jewish nation." Kant, then at work upon his monumental system, saw Herz in his audience as often as the medical professors saw him in theirs. He distinguished him, drew him into the circle of his intimates, and treated him as his favorite disciple. When entering upon his professorship, according to an absurd and antiquated custom Kant had to argue in public upon a philosophical subject, and found no one better fitted than Herz to act as his assistant. Several University representatives objected that a Jewish student, however talented and superior to his Christian companions, should be allowed equal privileges with them. Kant, however, insisted upon his demand. Pressed by pecuniary difficulties, and because a Jew could not receive the degree at the Königsberg University, Herz returned to his native town and joined Mendelssohn's circle. He was, however, an advocate of the Kantian philosophy. He became at the same time a skilled physician, and practiced his art with conscientiousness and zeal. By his marriage with Henrietta de Lemos, he secured a large practice and numerous acquaintances as assistant-physician to his Portuguese father-in-law; and through his incisive wit and versatile knowledge he became a noted personage in the Prussian capital. When he delivered philosophical lectures upon the Kantian philosophy, still new and but little understood, many distinguished men were among his auditors. Had not progress been great, if notabilities sat at the feet of a Jew to hear his instruction upon the highest truths, whilst men like Michaelis roundly denied all possibility of culture in the Jews? Herz afterwards delivered discourses upon physics, and illustrated the marvellous laws of nature by experimental demonstration. These lectures were still more crowded; even the Crown Prince (afterwards King Frederick William III) and other princes did not disdain to enter the house of a Jew and be taught by him. His philosophical lucidity, acquired from Kant and Mendelssohn, contributed towards rendering his lectures upon medicine, as well as upon other subjects, enjoyable and appreciated. Herz was not, however, an independent thinker, able to illumine the dark ways of human knowledge by brilliant ideas; but he succeeded in explaining the profound thoughts of others and in making them intelligible to the average mind. Through his personality and his social position, Herz deeply influenced not alone the culture of Berlin Jews, but also of Christian circles.
Of the remarkable capacity of Jews for culture, Solomon Maimon was a still more striking example. This Pole, whose real name was Solomon of Lithuania, or of Nieszwiez (born about 1753, died 1800), rose from the thickest cloud of Polish ignorance to pure philosophical knowledge, attaining this height by his unaided efforts, but owing to his scepticism, he fell a prey to shocking errors. The story of his life is full of travel and restlessness, and is a good example of the versatility of Jews.
As in the case of Mendelssohn, Maimuni's philosophical religious work, "The Guide of the Perplexed" (More Nebuchim), was the cause of Solomon's intellectual awakening. He read the book until it became part of him, consequently assumed the name of Maimon, swore by the name of the Jewish sage whenever evil desire prompted him to sin, and conquered by its aid. But whereas Mendelssohn reached the right way through Maimuni, Solomon Maimon was led into error, doubt, and unbelief, and to the end of his life lived an aimless existence. In despair he snatched at the Kabbala, wishing to become a Jewish Faust, to conjure up spirits who would obtain deep wisdom for him; he also made a pilgrimage to the leader of the Chassidim, Beer of Mizricz. But the deception practiced disgusted him, and he quickly turned away from him. But what was he, with his spirit of scepticism, to do in a narrow world of rigid orthodoxy? Continually play the hypocrite? Rumor had carried a report to Poland, that in certain towns of Germany a freer religious system prevailed, and that more scope for philosophical inquiry was given. At this period a Pole felt no scruples in forsaking wife, children, and home, and wandering abroad. It cost Maimon the less effort, seeing that his wife had been thrust upon him when he was a child, and it was to his vexation that children were born to him. To appease his conscience he deceived himself by the pretext that he would study medicine in Germany, and be enabled to maintain himself and his family.
Thus Maimon left Lithuania (spring, 1777), at the age of twenty-five, "with a heavy, dirty beard, in torn, filthy clothes, his language a jargon composed of fragments of Hebrew, Judæo-German, and Polish, together with grammatical errors," as he himself says, and in this guise he introduced himself to some educated Jews in Königsberg, saying that he desired to devote himself to science. In this ragged Pole was a brain full of profound thoughts, which, as he grew older, developed into maturity. His journey from Königsberg to Berlin by way of Stettin was a succession of pitiful troubles. In Berlin the authorities refused to grant him residence. Those Poles who had severed themselves from the Talmud, and devoted themselves to science, lived in the odor of the worst heresy, and often gave occasion to suspicion. Maimon was sincere enough to admit the justice of this opinion. A moral life, activity of any kind, participation in the work of mankind, utilization of talent in the conquest of nature, man's liberation from the shackles of self-interest, the awakening of his moral impulse to act for the welfare of his brethren, the realization of the heavenly kingdom of justice and beneficent love—of all these ideals Maimon had no appreciation. These were indifferent matters, with which a thinker need not trouble himself. In this unsound state of mind he shunned all active work; to meditate idly and draw up formulas were his chief occupations. He attained no fixed goal in life, but staggered from folly to folly, from misery to misery.
To the general public he was first known through his "Autobiography," wherein he revealed the weak points of the Polish Jews, to him the only representatives of Judaism, as well as his own, with unsparing, cynical severity, as some years previously Rousseau had done in his "Confessions." He thereby performed an evil service for his co-religionists. His opinions concerning his brethren, originating in ill-humor, were accepted to their detriment as universal characteristics; and what he depicted as hateful in the Polish Jews was attributed to all Jews.
This kind of confession was considered extraordinary, and aroused great attention, in stiff, pedantic Germany. The "Autobiography" found its way into numerous circles, and gained many readers. The two great German poets, Schiller and Goethe, were absurdly fond of the cynical philosopher; and Goethe expressed the wish to have him live near him. His fame made Maimon neither better nor happier, and he did honor to the Jewish race only with his mental powers; in his actions he altogether dishonored it.
The third Jewish thinker of this time, Lazarus Ben-David (born in Berlin 1762; died there 1832), had neither the tragic nor the comic history of Maimon. He was a prosaic, pedantic personality, who in any German university could have filled the chair of logic and mathematics, and year after year given the same instruction unabridged and unincreased. For the philosophy of Kant, however, Ben-David possessed ardor and enthusiastic devotion, because he recognized it as the truth, and faithfully conformed to its moral principles. This philosophy was well suited to Jews, because it demanded high power of thought and moral action. For this reason Kant, like Aristotle in former days, had many Jewish admirers and disciples. Ben-David was also learned in the Talmud, and a good mathematician. It was perhaps a mistake on his part to go to Vienna to lecture upon the Kantian philosophy. At first the University permitted his discourses in its halls,—a Jew lecturing on a philosophy which denied the right of Catholicism to exist! He soon however had to discontinue them; but Count Harrach offered him his palace as a lecture-room. Meeting with obstacles here, too, he left the imperial city, continued his discourses in Berlin, and for some time acted as editor of a journal. Ben-David produced but little impression upon the course of Jewish history.
The German Jews, however, under Mendelssohn's inspiration, not only elevated themselves with great rapidity to the height of culture, but unmistakably promoted the spread of culture in Christian circles. Intellectual Jews and Jewesses created in Berlin that cultured public tone which has become the distinction of this capital, and has influenced the whole of Germany. Jews and Jewesses were the first to found a salon for intellectual intercourse, in which the elements of elevated thought, taste, poetry, and criticism mingled together in a graceful, light way, and were discussed, and made accessible to men of different vocations. The Christian populace of Berlin at the time of Frederick the Great and his successor greatly resembled that of a petty town. The nobility and high dignitaries were too aristocratic and uneducated to trouble themselves about intellectual and social affairs and the outside world. For them the court and the petty events of everyday life were the world. The learned formed an exclusive guild, and there was no high or wealthy class of burghers. The middle classes followed the narrow path of their old-fashioned German fathers; met, if at all, over the beer-jug, and were continually engaged in repeating stories of "old Fritz's victories." Particularly, the women lived modestly within their four walls, or occupied themselves wholly with the concerns of their family circles. With the Jews of Berlin it was entirely different. All, or most of them, had been more or less engaged with the Talmud in their youth; their mental powers were acute, and susceptible to fresh influences. These new elements of culture Mendelssohn gave them through his Bible translation, and his philosophical and æsthetic writings. In Jewish circles, knowledge procured more distinction than riches; the ignorant man, however wealthy, was held up as a butt for contempt. Every Jew, whatever his means, prided himself on possessing a collection of old and new books, and, when possible, sought to know their contents, so that he might not be wanting in conversation. Every well-informed Jew lived in two worlds, that of business, and that of books. In consequence of the impulse given by Mendelssohn, the younger generation occupied itself with belles-lettres, language, and philosophy. The subjects of study had changed, but the yearning for knowledge remained, or became still stronger. Amongst the Jews of Berlin, shortly after the death of Mendelssohn, were more than a hundred young men burning with zeal for knowledge and culture, from whose midst the contributors to the periodical "Ha-Meassef" were supplied.
To this honest inclination for study, there was added a fashionable folly. Through Frederick the Great, French literature became acclimatized in Prussia, and Jews were especially attracted by the sparkling intellectuality of French wit. Voltaire had more admirers in the tents of Jacob than in German houses. Jewish youths ravenously flung themselves upon French literature, and acquired its forms; French frivolity naturally made its entry at the same time. The clever daughters of Israel also ardently devoted themselves to this fashionable folly; they learned French, at first, to be sure, for the purpose of conversing in the fashionable language with the youthful cavaliers who borrowed money from their fathers. It was one more ornament with which to deck themselves. Through the influence of Mendelssohn and Lessing, such trifling gave way to earnest endeavors for the acquisition of solid knowledge, in order that they might occupy an equally exalted footing with the men. Mendelssohn's daughters, who were continually in the society of cultivated men, led the way, and stirred up emulation. In no town of Germany were there so many cultured Jewish women as in Berlin, for they learned easily, were industrious, and altogether superior to their Christian sisters in knowledge of literature.
Mendelssohn's house became the center for scientific and literary intercourse, and was the more frequented as his friends might expect to meet distinguished strangers there who were attracted by his wide-spread renown, and from whom something new might be learned. His daughters were admitted to this witty and charming society, to which they also introduced their young companions. After Mendelssohn's death David Friedländer and Marcus Herz took his place. Friedländer was, however, too stiff and plain to exercise attraction. Thus Herz's house became headquarters for Mendelssohn's friends, who became the nucleus of a large circle. Herz was a popular physician, and had numerous acquaintances among distinguished Jewish and Christian families. His lectures attracted people of every rank to his house, and those eager for knowledge were admitted into the intimacy of the family circle. Herz was gifted with caustic wit, with which he seasoned the conversation. But more powerful than his science and his genius was the influence of his wife. Hers was a magic circle, into which every native or foreign personage of importance in Berlin was magnetically drawn. Intercourse with the beautiful and gifted Jewess Henrietta Herz was, next to the court circle, the most sought after in Berlin. Had she not been misled by seductive influences, she might have been a source of rich blessings to Judaism.
This beautiful woman, then, made her house the gathering-place of the select society of Berlin, and illustrious strangers pressed for the honor of an introduction to her. Here the Christian friends of Mendelssohn, already accustomed to intercourse with Jews, mingled freely with cultured Jews, but also new men, who filled high positions, and diplomatists were to be met there. Mirabeau, in whose mind the storm-charged clouds of the Revolution were already forming, and to whom the Jews owed so much, during his secret diplomatic embassy (1786) to Berlin was more in the society of Henrietta Herz than in that of her husband. Gradually ladies of high degree and education also entered into relations with Madame Herz and her friends, attracted by the charm of refined, social communion. But her salon exercised most powerful attraction upon cultured Christian youths, by reason of its beautiful Jewish damsels and ladies, the satellites of the fair hostess. These Jewish beauties, however, did not merely form the ornament of the salon, but took an active part in the intellectual entertainment, and distinguished themselves by their originality. Gentz called them "the clever women of Jewry." Among them were two who shone by superior intellectual qualities, and combined modern culture with Jewish keenness of mind and wit: Mendelssohn's eldest daughter Dorothea, and Rachel Levin, afterwards the wife of Varnhagen von Ense. Both possessed eminent talents, in addition to which Rachel Levin had an inflexible love for truth, united with gentleness and amiability.
Almost at the same time a brilliant salon, where authors, artists, nobles, and diplomatists, native and foreign, came together, was opened in Vienna, by a Berlin Jewess, Fanny Itzig, daughter of the banker Daniel Itzig. She was witty, amiable and noble, and was married to Nathan Adam von Arnstein, who had been made a baron. Like her friends in Berlin she brought about the social intermingling of Jews with Christians in Vienna. These Jewish coteries most triumphantly refuted the foolish remark of the insolent scholar of Göttingen, "that gypsies would sooner undergo the transformation into a people than Jews." The prejudice of a thousand years was blown away with one breath more effectually than by a hundred learned or eloquent disquisitions.
The social equalization of the Jews in cultivated circles of Prussia caused them to hope, if not for complete civil rights, at least for a lightening of the oppressive taxes and the humiliations imposed upon them. Between the social position of cultured Jews and their legal standing there was a deep chasm. In the burgher classes, the Jews of Berlin were the first millionaires—no indifferent matter considering the important place held by money at that time—yet, according to the law, they were treated like peddlers. Humane treatment could not be expected from the philosophical king. Dohm's apology for the Jews did not exist for him. Hope was aroused among the Berlin Jews on the accession of Frederick William II, who was of a weak but kindly nature. Urged on by David Friedländer, who, the successor of Mendelssohn, was at the same time considered the representative of Jewish interests, the chiefs and elders of the Berlin community presented a petition for the abolition of the Jewish poll-tax, the repeal of barbarous laws against the Jews, and the concession of freedom of movement. They received a favorable reply, directing them to "choose honest men from their midst," with whom the government might negotiate. Their proposal to select delegates from amongst the Jews in the provinces was assented to, and a commission was established to investigate the complaints of the Prussian Jews and make suggestions for improvement. As general deputies of the Jews there were selected Friedländer and his rich father-in-law, Daniel Itzig, who, with great independence and courage, laid bare the barbarous and venal legislation of Frederick the Great in reference to the Jews.
The deputies drew up a list of the imposts extorted from the Jews, bearing ridiculous titles; for instance, the exportation of porcelain, which bound them to purchase articles of the worst quality for an exorbitant price (called in mockery "Jews' porcelain") from the royal manufactory and to sell them abroad; and taxes for the support of manufactories for caps, stockings, pocket-handkerchiefs, and veils. They pointed out burdensome restrictions, how in courts of justice they were not treated as the equals of Christian suitors, and they especially complained of the responsibility laid upon all for each, and boldly demanded complete equalization, not mere permission to engage in agriculture and trades, but also to fill public offices and university chairs (May, 1787). The expectations of the Jews of Berlin and Prussia were however baffled. Only the law to deal in bad porcelain was annulled for a sum of four thousand thalers. The degrading body-tax was also repealed for native Jews journeying from province to province, and for strangers when frequenting the fair at Frankfort-on-the-Oder (December, 1787; July, 1788.) This release from slavery had been effected by Joseph II and by Louis XVI of France several years previously. The high officials therefore advised the abolition of the Jewish poll-tax from shame. But the gain was not great, for, as Prussian Jews had to prove themselves such at every public gate, the stigma was not removed. The ultimate result of the petition of the Jewish deputies was lamentable. What was given with one hand, was taken away with the other. It redounds to the honor of the deputies that they frankly rejected the paltry, narrow-minded concessions, remarking, "The intended favors are below our expectation, and hardly accord with the joyful hopes entertained at the accession of the king." They declared that they were not empowered to accept the reforms offered, "which contain few advantages and many restrictions," especially as regarded the enlistment of common soldiers. Only certain individual Jews received exceptional equalization of rights. Orders were given that in official acts they should not be treated as Jews. Otherwise everything continued as of old, only slight relief being given to the Jews in Silesia.
Thus a nucleus for the elevation of the Jewish race was formed in the Berlin community, and their efforts were encouraged, if not by the state, at least by public opinion. In two ways their action influenced a wider circle—through the Free School (Chinuch Nearim), and the printing establishment connected with it. The Free School, conducted by David Friedländer and his brother-in-law, Itzig Daniel Itzig, was not managed according to Wessely's ideal plan. The curriculum was composed mainly of the subjects of a general education, and gradually everything Jewish (Hebrew, the Bible, the Talmud) was crowded out. In ten years (1781–1791) over five hundred well-taught pupils were graduated from the school—apostles of the Berlin spirit, who spread its influence in all directions. It became a model school for German and other communities. With similar ends in view the printing-press sent into the Ghettos a large number of instructive works in Hebrew and German. The spirit engendered thereby was at first one of scepticism, of superficial enlightenment. Its aim was to eradicate from Jewish life and manners everything that offended cultured taste or made the Jews objects of derision, but it included in its attack whatever did not at once recommend itself to the sober-minded, and so tended to obliterate everything that recalled the great events of the past, and that caused the Jews to appear as a separate race in the eyes of Christians. The dearest ambition of the advocates of this movement was to resemble Christians in every respect. "Enlightenment, Culture" were their passwords, the idols of their worship, to which they sacrificed everything. Mendelssohn had left no disciple of any importance able to recognize the great truths of Judaism, and bring them into accord with culture. Men like Euchel, Löwe, Friedländer, Herz, and almost all the Measfim, possessed mediocre minds and limited views; they were unable to scatter abroad fruit-bearing germs of thought. Despite their enthusiasm for Mendelssohn, they did not appreciate the essence of his nature, and thought that he was still in their midst, when they had long forsaken him. Even his own children, not excepting his accomplished daughters, misunderstood him; and this misconception resulted in great confusion.
With every step forward taken by the Berlin school of enlightenment, it became more opposed to the main body of Judaism, vexing its susceptibilities, and thereby frustrating its own efficacy. Misunderstandings, bitter feelings, friction, and strife were the direct consequences.
The ultra-orthodox party, however, numbered still fewer men of importance than the advanced school. The most eminent leader among them, or the one regarded as such, Ezekiel Landau, in Prague, had not the slightest sympathy with the new tendency, but thoughtlessly clung to every usage however unjustifiable, and thereby injured the cause he represented. He had only condemnation and denunciation as heretics for those who withdrew from the well-trodden path.
Owing to the friction between the progressive and the orthodox parties, both of whom exceeded all proper bounds, an exciting quarrel sprang up in the Berlin community. Young men—private tutors, merchants' apprentices, the sons of the rich, and fashionable youths—boasted a frivolous philosophy, and proudly despised their hoary religion, considering everything that interfered with their pleasures as superstition, prejudice, and Rabbinical folly. The adherents of the old views therefore grew the more tenacious, and held to everything that bore a religious stamp. As the orthodox communal leaders still had the upper hand in the benevolent institutions, they refused support to the partisans of enlightenment, especially to strangers, would not admit their sick into the Jewish hospital, and denied the dead honorable burial. In short all the phenomena that usually accompany religious party conflicts appeared. Those without families, among whom were two prominent Measfim, Euchel and Wolfssohn, determined to unite together so as not to stand isolated against the orthodox party. They desired to form a union for the protection of its members. Mendelssohn's eldest son, Joseph, was very zealous in promoting such a union, and on the strength of his name it met with abundant encouragement. Thus the "Society of Friends" was formed (1792), a community of illuminati within the community, comprising solely unmarried men, whose chief aim was to regard each other as brothers, and to support each other in distress and illness; but their collateral intention was to spread culture and promote enlightenment. The "Friends" took a saying of Mendelssohn as their motto, "To seek for truth, to love the beautiful, to desire the good, to do the best." A bundle of staves was their symbol. In the first year of its existence, the union numbered more than a hundred members in the capital. Young men in Königsberg, Breslau, and Vienna, joined the ranks. A bond of cordial brotherhood held the members together, and to the present day, a fraternal feeling of delicate benevolence has survived in the Society. But it was a morbid symptom. The Society floated in the air without a firm basis; it had roots neither in its own midst, nor in Judaism, nor did it attach itself to any great political ideal. It aimed at bodily welfare and quietude, as if civilized men could live by bread only: the catchwords and phrases of culture and enlightenment did not avail much. The struggle against the old régime was but weak; all that they succeeded in doing was to keep their deceased friends longer above ground. In short, the "Society of Friends" lacked the leaven of inspiration, the only quality which ultimately bears fruit.
If the members of this Society took up no firm attitude, those who never knew an ideal, nor even a dreamy striving, the commonplace men who were mere slaves, and sought their whole happiness in mixing with Christians, acted yet more culpably. The old system had no charms for them, and the new one no tangible form to attract them. The example of the court and high circles of society exercised an evil influence also upon the Jews of the large towns of Prussia. "Under Frederick William II," as Mirabeau remarks from his own observation, "Prussia had fallen into a condition of rottenness, before having attained the stage of maturity." Jewish youths of wealthy houses followed the general inclination to sensual pleasures. Not secretly, but openly in the light of day, they over-leapt all bounds, and with contempt of Judaism united contempt for chastity and morality. They aped other apes. Earnest men, such as David Friedländer, Lazarus Ben-David, and Saul Asher, deplored the decay of morality among the Jews, without noticing that their own shallow desire for enlightenment had contributed to it.
"Vices have spread in our midst, which our fathers knew not, and which at any price have been bought too dearly. Irreligion, voluptuousness, and effeminacy, weeds that spring from the misuse of enlightenment and culture, have alas! taken root amongst us, and especially in the principal towns we are exposed to the danger that the stream of luxury along with our boorishness is sweeping away our severe and simple morals."
Having broken loose from the bond of a national religion existing for thousands of years, superficial reasoners and profligates passed over to Christianity in a body. "They were like moths, fluttering around the flame, till they were consumed." Of what use was it to be galled by the fetters of the "general privilege," of what use to continue to bear the disgrace of being "protected" Jews, if by the repetition of an empty formula they could become equal to the Christians! So they washed away the mark of the yoke and its shame with the waters of baptism. The congregations of Berlin, Breslau, and Königsberg beheld daily the apostasy of their members, of the richest and outwardly the most cultured people. It appeared as if the words of the prophet would be verified, "I will leave in the midst of thee an afflicted and poor people." It must be considered a miracle that the entire Jewish party of enlightenment in Germany did not abjure Judaism. Three invisible powers kept them from following en masse the example of treachery and apostasy: deep aversion to the dogma of Divine Incarnation, indestructible attachment to their families and to their great past of thousands of years, and love for the Hebrew language and literature. Without suspecting it, they felt themselves united as a nation, a link in the long chain of the history of the Jewish race, and they could not persuade themselves to separate from it. The revival of Hebrew through the Measfim had had beneficial influence in this direction. Whoever could comprehend the beauties and elevated thoughts of biblical literature, and could imitate the language, remained a Jew in spite of secret doubts, degradation, and disgrace. Thus Mendelssohn provided the new generation both with a poison and its antidote.
David Friedländer alone proved an exception to this rule. Neither Jewish antiquity, nor Hebrew poetry, nor family ties, had power to keep him loyal to his banner, even with half-hearted devotion. The tearing asunder of all family connections, the casting aside of the duties of the religious brotherhood, did indeed oppress him. Nevertheless, he proceeded to sever himself from the Jewish community and to desert to the hostile camp. He had striven to obtain for himself and his whole family an exceptional naturalization with all its rights and duties, but had not succeeded. This pained him, and instead of hiding his annoyance in the pride of ancestry and martyrdom, instead of working on behalf of his co-religionists so as to surpass the haughty Christians, he coveted the honor of joining them. Friedländer, however, did not desire to effect this desertion alone or absolutely. He therefore, together with other fathers of families similarly disposed, in a cowardly manner directed a letter, without mentioning either himself or others by name, to the chief consistorial councilor Teller, who was on friendly terms with Jews. This letter expressed their desire for conversion and baptism, under the condition that they might be excused from believing in Jesus, and from participating in the rites of the church, or that at least they might be allowed to explain Christian dogmas in their own manner—a suggestion equally silly and dishonorable. Friedländer could not deny that, among the Jews, "virtue was general, benevolence inherent, parental and filial love, and the sanctity of marriage deeply rooted, self-sacrifice for the sake of others frequent; and that, on the other hand, gross crimes—murder, robbery, and outrage—were rare." But this bright side of their servile state seemed to him only a secondary matter. Therefore, in this foolish letter, he libeled his people and its past, called the Talmud (that mental tonic) mysticism, spoke in illogical confusion now of the harmful character, now of the utility of the ritual laws of Judaism, and sketched the development of Jewish history in a way not to be excelled for perversity.
Teller disposed of the Jewish fathers who craved a Christianity without Jesus politely, but decisively, as they deserved. They might remain what they were, for Christianity had no desire for such infidel believers. Friedländer had met with an ignominious experience; he remained a Jew, but his children pressed forward to be baptized without conditions or qualifications. His letter however aroused more attention than it deserved.
If the German Jews, especially those of Berlin, through their intercourse with Christian society, and their interest in literature, gained in external conduct, in forms of politeness, and social manners—advantages not to be underrated—they lost something for which there was no compensation. The chastity of Jewish women and maidens during their isolation had been of inviolable sanctity; the happiness of family life rested upon this precious basis. Jewish women were seldom married for love—the Ghetto was not the place for the dallyings of love—but after marriage duty induced love. This sanctuary, the pride of Israel, which filled earnest Christians with admiration, and led them highly to esteem the Jews, became dishonored by their association with Christians of the corrupt higher ranks.
If the enemies of the Jews had designed to break the power of Israel, they could have discovered no more effectual means than infecting Jewish women with moral depravity, a plan more efficacious than that employed by the Midianites, who weakened the men by immorality. The salon of the beautiful Henrietta Herz became a sort of Midianite tent. Here a number of young Jewish women assembled, whose husbands were kept away by their business. The most prominent male member of this circle was Frederick von Gentz, the embodiment of selfishness, licentiousness, vice, and depravity, whose chief occupation was the betrayal of women. Henrietta Herz was the first to be confused and led astray by homage to her beauty. It was the time when German romanticism, the product of Goethe's muse, began to act upon the minds of men, urging them to translate lyrical emotions into reality, and transfigure life poetically. This romantic tendency resulted in fostering sentimentality and in infamous marriages which were contracted and dissolved at pleasure. A so-called Band of Virtue (Tugend-Bund) was formed, of which Henrietta Herz, two daughters of Mendelssohn, and other Jewesses, together with Christian profligates, were members. The Jewish women felt themselves exalted and honored by their close intimacy with Christians of rank; they did not see the fanged serpent beneath the flowers. With William von Humboldt, an ardent youth, afterwards a Prussian minister, Henrietta secretly maintained an amatory correspondence behind her husband's back.
When William von Humboldt married, and forgot Henrietta, who had been misled by her vanity, she entered into an ambiguous relation with Schleiermacher, the modern apostle of the new Christianity. Their conspicuous intimacy was mocked at by acquaintances, even more than by strangers. Both parties denied somewhat too anxiously the criminality of their intimate intercourse. Whether true or not, it was disgrace enough that evil tongues should even suspect the honor of a Jewish matron of good family.
Schleiermacher's companion was Frederick Schlegel, who stormed heaven with childish strength,—a chameleon in sentiments and views, enthusiastic now for the republic, now for monarchical despotism, who conjured up the specters and evil spirits of the Middle Ages. Introduced into the salon of Herz, he became the bosom friend of Schleiermacher, and at once resolved to seduce Dorothea Mendelssohn. Her father had died with the knowledge that she was joined in happy wedlock to the banker Simon Veit Witzenhausen. Her husband surrounded her with marks of attention and love. Two children were the issue of this marriage. Nevertheless, she allowed herself to be led into faithlessness by the treacherous voice of the romantic Schlegel. It was the fashion in this society to complain about being misunderstood and the discord of souls. The immoral teachings of Goethe's elective affinities had already taken root in Jewish families. The thought of parting from her husband and children did not restrain Dorothea from going astray, and Henrietta Herz acted as go-between. Dorothea therefore left her husband, and lived with Schlegel, at first in unlawful union. All the world was astounded at this immorality, which dragged Mendelssohn's honorable name in the mud. Doctor Herz forbade his wife to hold intercourse with this depraved woman. But she herself was at heart an adulteress, and informed her husband that she would not forsake her friend. Schleiermacher, the preacher, also took but little offense at this dissolute conduct. Dorothea followed her romantic betrayer from one folly to another, was baptized as a Protestant, and finally, together with him, became converted to Catholicism. It was a lamentable sight when Mendelssohn's daughter kissed the toe of the pope. The younger sister, Henrietta Mendelssohn, was not handsome enough to enthrall the libertines of the salon. It suffices to indicate her bent of mind to say that she also went over to Catholicism. The consequence of this internal corruption was to render the participators out of sorts with life.
Rachel Levin, another high-spirited woman, was too clever to take part in the frivolity of the Band of Virtue. She desired to pursue her own way. But her wisdom and clear mind did not secure her against the contamination of immorality. In one respect she was superior to her sinful Jewish sisters; she was truthful, and wore no mask. When Rachel first made the acquaintance of the heroic but dissolute Prince Louis Ferdinand, she undertook to teach him "garret-truths"; but she rather learned from him the follies of the palace. Herself unmarried, she consented to become the intermediary between him and the abandoned Pauline Wiesel. Rachel Levin, or, as she was also called, Rachel Robert, in whose veins flowed Talmudic blood, which endowed her with a bright and active mind, and enabled her to penetrate to the very foundation of things, and pursue the soul and its varying instincts in their subtlest manifestations, ignored her own origin. She desired to distinguish the breath of God in the mutations of history, yet had no appreciation of the greatness of her race. She despised it, considering it the greatest shame and her worst misfortune to have been born a Jewess. Only in the hour of death did a faint suspicion of the great importance of Judaism and the Jews cross her mind.
"With exalted delight I meditate upon my origin and the web of history, through which the oldest reminiscences of the human race are united with present affairs, despite distance of time and space. I, a fugitive from Egypt, am here, and find assistance. What all my life I considered my greatest disgrace, I now would not give up for any price."
But even in that hour her mind did not see clearly, her thoughts were disordered, and she exhausted herself in fantastic dreams.
These talented but sinful Jewish women did Judaism a service by becoming Christians. Mendelssohn's daughters and Rachel were converted publicly, while Henrietta Herz, who had more regard for appearances, received baptism in a small town to avoid hurting her Jewish friends, and took this step only after her mother's death.
Schleiermacher again inoculated the cultivated classes in Germany with a peculiar, scarcely definable, antipathy to Judaism. He was in no way a Jew-baiter, in the usual sense of the term, and indignantly protested against being called so; but his mind was agitated with a vague, disagreeable feeling towards the Jews, from which he could not escape. When Friedländer's foolish letter on the admission of certain families into Christianity divested of the dogma of the Trinity, was published, Schleiermacher expressed himself adverse to their admission. The state might concede to the Jews the rights of citizenship, but should tolerate them only as a special sect, inasmuch as they would not surrender their hope in the Messiah. It was quite in accordance with his romantic neo-Christianity, that from ignorance and confusion he depicted Judaism as a mummy "around which its sons sit moaning and weeping." He would not even acknowledge Judaism as the forerunner of Christianity. "I detest this sort of historical relationship in religion." Hitherto, Christendom had been conscious of a certain connection with Judaism, and the Old Testament, the Bible, had been the common ground upon which the insolent daughter and the enslaved mother met, and for the moment forgot their hatred. To this connection, or its recognition, the Jews owed their salvation in the sad days of excess of Christian faith, or they would have been altogether annihilated in Europe. The papacy protected them, "because the Saviour had come from their midst." This bond Schleiermacher destroyed at a breath. To have anything in common with the Jews enraged him. But were not Jesus, the Apostles, and the early Fathers of the Church, Jews? Schleiermacher would willingly have denied this fact, if he could possibly have done it; but as this was impracticable, he enshrouded it in mystery.
"What? we are to believe that Jesus was only a Jewish Rabbi, with philanthropic sentiments, and some Socratic morality; with certain miracles, or at least what some consider as such, and with the talent of composing neat riddles and parables—some follies will even then have to be forgiven him, according to the first three Evangelists; and such a man could have established a new religion and a Church—a man who cannot be compared with Moses and Mahomet?"
This fact Schleiermacher could not tolerate; for in such case, not only Moses the prophet, but also Moses Mendelssohn, the sage of Berlin, would have been greater. Therefore Schleiermacher removed his Jesus far away from Judaism; he had only had the accident of birth in common with the Jews, but he was superhuman, and still a man, "whose consciousness of God may properly be called existence of God within him," as it is expressed in this mystic, extravagant, romantic teaching, which thus took its own chief under its protection. Schleiermacher's sermons were filled with this kind of word-juggling, to which the Berlin Jews, especially the women, listened as devoutly as their ancestors to the lying tricks of the false prophets. The school of Schleiermacher, which became the leading influence in Germany, made this intense contempt of Judaism its password and the basis of its orthodoxy.
At the same time, another romanticist, Chateaubriand, invented new, flimsy supports for Christianity, which was in ruins and almost forgotten in France. Even though he traced the origin of the arts, music, painting, architecture, eloquence, and poetry, to Christianity, he, at least, did not deny a share in these merits to Judaism, though only with the intention of claiming for Christianity the noblest features in Hebrew literature and history. "There are only two bright names and memories in history, those of the Israelites and the Pelasgians (Greeks)." When Chateaubriand desired to prove his assertion that the poetry of nature is the invention of Christianity, he cited as examples the beautiful descriptions in Job, in the Prophets, and the Psalms, to whose poetry the works of Pindar and Horace were much inferior. Chateaubriand gathered the flowers of Hebrew poetry to weave a beautiful garland for his crucified god. But he did not, like Schleiermacher, crush Judaism into the dust by denying the paternity of the child grown to be so powerful.