The two envoys and their escort were filled with heartfelt joy. The three synagogues in Alexandria resounded with prayers of thanksgiving and blessings for Mehmet Ali, Metternich, and the Austrian consuls Laurin and Merlato, and all who had taken part in the deliverance and who were delighted at the result of their efforts.
Great was the astonishment, however, of the two Jewish representatives, when a Turkish copy of Mehmet Ali's order reached them, and Munk, who was a skilled linguist, read out the words, "Mr. Moses Montefiore and M. Crémieux have besought me to bestow mercy upon the Jews in Damascus and to grant them liberty," which implied that the accused Damascus Jews, though guilty, had been treated by the Pasha with mercy, instead of justice. The hand of Cochelet was visible in this attempt to shield Ratti Menton and the monkish executioners. Crémieux straightway hastened to the Pasha, explained to him how the expression "mercy" cast a slur upon the accused, and with them upon all Jews, because they were thus declared to be guilty. He asked that the words "liberty and peace" be substituted. Mehmet Ali ordered this alteration to be made in the Firman, and thus the last intrigues of Cochelet were destroyed.
As soon as the order arrived at Damascus, Sherif Pasha, who knew Mehmet Ali's severity, was obliged to liberate the nine Jewish prisoners who were still detained in jail (September 6) without consulting Ratti Menton. Seven of the men had been mutilated by the tortures, only two having escaped injury who had suffered persecution, while four victims had died. No sooner did the joyful news of their liberation get abroad in Damascus, than all the Jews and many Turks assembled before the prison, and accompanied the sufferers to the synagogue, to offer up thanks to God for their regained freedom, and to pray for Mehmet Ali and their Jewish protectors.
The joy of the Jews in all parts of the world, on hearing of the triumph of their just cause, may be imagined; it was a national rejoicing, in which the best men, both in Europe and Asia, participated. All that remained to be effected was to obtain from Mehmet Ali the official statement that the blood accusation was a calumny, and of this there were ample proofs when everyone in Damascus could speak freely about the sad occurrence. The Jewish envoys also made it their duty to induce the Pasha to abolish torture altogether. But political complications prevented the accomplishment of this humane proposal. Mehmet Ali was obliged to surrender Syria as well as Crete to Turkey. Thus punishment overtook him for having complacently witnessed for nearly three months the scenes of blood in Damascus out of deference to France. Sherif Pasha, even before Damascus was captured by the Turks, was dragged in chains to Cairo, and there executed, it is said for treason. François Salins, one of the malicious French persecutors of the Jews in Damascus, was torn to pieces by the mob. The fanatical Catholics of this city, who under Mehmet Ali had been permitted to practice so much cruelty, were humiliated, or felt humiliated, when Raphael Farchi, the distinguished Jew, was again installed in his position as member of the city council. No longer able to torture the Jews, they cooled their hatred by inciting to a crusade against them. The representative of the Greek Patriarch, the Armenian bishop Vantabiet, the vicar of the Holy Land, the Syrian priest Jacob, and the representative of the Catholic Patriarch, the priest Maruni—in short, the representatives of three sects who bore deadly hatred against each other united in fastening a new calumny on the Jews, who were hated equally by all three.
"The Jews of Damascus allowed themselves grossly to insult the Christians, to abuse them and subject them to all sorts of indignities. Several persons made complaints of the disgraceful behavior of the Jews, abominable behavior, which humiliates all Christians."
The majority of European Christendom were, however, sufficiently well acquainted with the veracity of the clergy of Damascus to pay no attention to this hypocritical lament, and the heads of Catholicism felt ashamed of having exposed themselves in the Damascus affair.
The Jewish envoys did not think their task completed, unless they sought to prevent, as far as lay in their power, the repetition of events which branded all Judaism with dishonor. Foreseeing that Syria, together with Damascus, would be restored to Turkey, Montefiore made his way to Constantinople, entered into communications with the Porte, to which he had influential letters of recommendation, and together with some distinguished Jews of the Turkish capital obtained an audience of the Sultan, when he asked for a Firman (November 6), which should in future secure the Turkish Jews from blood accusations.
Crémieux chose another field for his activity. The martyrdom of the Damascus Jews had the unexpected effect of strengthening the connection between the Jews in Europe and those in the East. The latter saw with astonishment how much their European brethren could accomplish by means of culture, influence, and courage, and that they were treated with distinction by princes and the great, whilst they themselves bent their backs, unresistingly, to every blow. This reverent admiration of the Asiatic Jews for those of Europe, Crémieux utilized in the attempt to emancipate the Egyptian Jews (or at least those in the two capitals of Alexandria and Cairo) from their state of ignorance, and render them susceptible to civilization. Their ignorance of even Jewish writings, a consequence of the immeasurable oppression under which they had labored, as well as of their indescribable poverty, was the cause of the intense contempt in which they were held by Mahometans and Christians. From this ignominy Crémieux hoped to free them, and he was powerfully supported by Solomon Munk, who appears to have been destined to be the intermediary between the European and the Egyptian Jews—between the past and the present. Munk addressed an eloquent Hebrew and Arabic circular letter (Elul 23) to the Jews of Egypt, in which he contrasted the former splendor of the Jews of that country in the time of the Second Temple, in the time of Philo and Maimuni, when they stood at the head of Jewish spiritual activity, with the darkness of their present misery, the consequence of their intellectual decay. He exhorted them to wake from their deathlike torpor and establish schools, where their children might obtain a knowledge of Judaism and of Jewish literature, and at the same time a secular and practical education. Munk effected for the Egyptian Jews what Wessely had done for those of Europe. But, unlike his predecessor, he was not denounced as a heretic for his efforts. On the contrary, the rabbi of Alexandria was the first to offer assistance in the work. A distinguished Jew, named Valensino, placed himself at the head of a society for establishing schools and supervising public education. Then Crémieux, together with Munk, repaired to Cairo, where there dwelt a large congregation of about 300 families, only about twelve of whom were very wealthy, while about 200 lived on charity. Here also the rabbi, Moses Joseph Algazi, an aged man of seventy-six, and a prominent man named Adda, readily assisted in founding schools. Owing to their exertions and those of other persons, two schools for boys were opened in Cairo (October 4), and one for girls; these were called the Crémieux schools. Here Munk succeeded in bringing about an important reconciliation. In spite of the fanaticism of the rigidly orthodox, he succeeded in having the children of Karaites admitted to the schools, there being only about a hundred persons of this sect left in Cairo. The rabbi Algazi also supported the innovation, which seemed to be a step tending to restore brotherhood between Rabbanites and Karaites. Stirred by these movements, the grand rabbi of Constantinople (Chacham Bashi), Moses Fresco, issued a circular letter (October 28) to the Turkish congregations, urging that it was the duty of the Jews to learn the language of the country (Turkish), in order to meet the Sultan's wishes, who, by his Firman Hatti-Sherif, had raised them from their abject state. The mixed language in which this circular letter of the Chacham Bashi was written (Old Spanish with Hebrew and Turkish words), proved sufficiently the necessity of a pure language for the Jews.
However, these beginnings were merely seeds scattered in the desert sand, and it was doubtful whether they would take root and grow. The efforts were resumed on a larger scale twenty years later, under the name of "the Universal Alliance of Israelites" (Alliance Israélite Universelle). The mission to Egypt produced practical and lasting fruit for Jewish science, chiefly through Solomon Munk (born at Glogau, 1802; died at Paris, 1867). It is doubtful whether the spotless character of this man, or his devoted attachment to science, is to be more admired. He added to the number of great men produced among the Jews during the first half of the nineteenth century. His modesty was a marked feature, which grew in proportion to the increase of his scientific importance. For his patience in misfortune, and cheerfulness in the sufferings which he had incurred in the service of science, he was greatly admired in his native country, Germany, and in France, his adopted country, and he was loved as much as he was revered. Munk possessed all the virtues of the Jews without their faults. In the comprehensive range of Arabic literature he was one of the first masters of the day, and the most profound scholars in the same study recognized his equality, or awarded him the palm. As interpreter to the escort of Crémieux, he spoke and wrote Arabic like one born in an Arab tent. He divined the words and sense of any manuscript passage by a kind of instinct, which only increased in keenness when he lost his sight from poring over manuscripts. His intellectual sight compensated for the loss of his physical power. The darkness which enshrouded him for nearly twenty years before his death did not prevent his vision from being clear and distinct.
The glory of Jewish history during the Middle Ages developed during the rule of the Arabs in the East and West; its dawn began with Saadiah, and it reached its zenith with Maimuni. Munk banished the obscurity in which this epoch had been enwrapped, and illumined it with the full light of his profound studies. The innermost thoughts of Maimuni, the awakener of intellects, to whom the Jewish race is chiefly indebted for its renaissance in modern days, were completely revealed only through the researches of Munk. He renewed in its original form what had been spoilt by continual emendations. The proud boast of Christendom, that even in the obscurity of the Middle Ages it had disseminated the bright germs of thought, Munk controverted by incontestable proofs that without Arabic and Jewish philosophy, the darkness of the Middle Ages would have been impenetrable, and that the so-called Christian schools of philosophy of that period were fed upon the crumbs which fell from the lips of Jewish thinkers. Munk so conclusively established this historical fact that it is scarcely possible to speak of a Christian philosophy. Another historical fact, the origin and development of the Karaite sect, which, notwithstanding the powerful influence it exercised upon thought in the Jewish Middle Ages, was known only in rough outlines, was brought to light by Munk; in a word, Jewish science is deeply indebted to him. He not only greatly added to it by his profound knowledge, but he also showed how to pursue a sound course of investigation. As Luzzatto opened up new Hebrew sources for Jewish science, so Munk discovered new Arabic sources, rendering them comprehensible and accessible, and thereby greatly adding to the knowledge of Judaism, which he loved with all his heart. Munk's sojourn in Alexandria and Cairo was of extraordinary value in his literary and historical researches. From that soil, which had lain unproductive as to intellectual results for many a day, he excavated rich treasures for Jewish science. Munk fully recognized that the self-respect of the Jews would be confirmed only by self-knowledge, reached along the paths of science.
Return of Montefiore and Crémieux from the East—Patriotic Suggestions—General Indecision—Gabriel Riesser—Michael Creizenach—Reform Party in Frankfort—Rabbinical Assembly—Holdheim—Reform Association—Zachariah Frankel—The Berlin Reform Temple—Michael Sachs—His Character—His Biblical Exegesis—Holdheim and Sachs—The Jewish German Church—Progress of Jewish Literature—Ewald and his Works—Enfranchisement of English Jews—The Breslau Jewish College—Its Founders—The Mortara Case—Pope Pius IX—The Alliance Israélite—Astruc, Cohn, Caballo, Masuel, Netter—The American Jews—The "Union of American Hebrew Congregations"—The Anglo-Jewish Association—Benisch, Löwy—The "Israelitische Allianz"—Wertheimer, Goldschmidt, Kuranda—Rapid Social Advance of the Jews—Rise of Anti-Semitism.
1840–1870 C. E.
The return from the East of the Jewish envoys, who not only had saved a few men from death, but had rescued all Judaism from disgrace, was a veritable triumphal procession. From Corfu to Paris and London, and even to the depths of Poland, the Jewish communities were unanimous in expressions of thanksgiving to the rescuers, and sought by visible signs to evince their gratitude, and at the same time show their patriotic sentiments for Judaism. The tributes took the form of public orations, addresses, articles written in every European language, naturally also in Hebrew, and both in prose and verse. Attentions and gifts were freely bestowed upon the two chief representatives of Judaism, to celebrate in a worthy fashion the momentous events which had occurred in Damascus, and transmit the remembrance of these deeds to posterity. Crémieux, who was the first to set out on the return journey, received enthusiastic homage in Corfu, Trieste, Venice, Vienna, Fürth, Nuremberg, Frankfort, and Mayence (November-December, 1840). The large communities through whose cities he could not pass sent deputations and addresses. It was naïvely touching that old-fashioned orthodox rabbis, at a loss how to show their gratitude, bestowed upon him the title of Rabbi (Morenu), as the highest honor in their gift. Only the Jewish community in Paris behaved in a cool fashion, and prepared no fitting reception for their emissary, as if fearing to wound the sensitiveness of King Louis Philippe, whose ambiguous attitude had been striking.
Montefiore, who had remained in Constantinople a long time, in order to obtain a favorable Firman, and who began his return journey later, and traveled mostly by sea, did not come into contact with so many congregations as Crémieux, hence did not receive so much public homage. He was, however, overwhelmed with letters from all sides. By his watchful care, continually directed to the welfare and honor of his brethren, and without any idea of reward, he had in his simplicity put their enemies to shame. He obtained a promise from Cardinal Rivarola, the protector of all Capuchins in Rome, that the tombstone should be removed which had been erected in the Capuchin church at Damascus recording the murder of Father Tomaso by the Jews, and representing him as a martyr. He also compelled King Louis Philippe to appear pleased with what had occurred. At an audience obtained through the English ambassador, Lord Granville (February 22, 1844), Montefiore handed the king a copy of the Sultan's Firman which testified the innocence of the Damascus Jews, and tacitly condemned the French consul. Louis Philippe was compelled to swallow this humiliation, and assume a gracious manner for the sake of appearances, and congratulate Montefiore on the success of his journey and his mission. Queen Victoria thanked Montefiore all the more sincerely, through Lord Palmerston (who was prime minister at the time, and to whom he was presented on his return), for the succor which he had brought his co-religionists.
The entire body of Jews in Europe were at this time engaged in carrying out three objects: offering to their two rescuers an enduring and striking token of gratitude, perpetuating the memory of the deliverance effected by them, and finally, discovering, through combined action, a means whereby to prevent the recurrence of similar false accusations against Jews and Judaism. The leaders of the German Jews felt themselves especially moved to put on record their interest in the events, and their admiration for the two noble representatives of their race. They, the very ones who had hitherto taken the lead in advocating progress, had done little in connection with the sanguinary events of Damascus. A prominent Jewish scholar, Zunz, had completely refuted the alleged proofs, supposed to be drawn from the Talmud, of the use of blood by the Jews. The Jewish newspapers had boldly fought against anti-Jewish attacks and slanders. But this was all that had been done in Germany towards vindicating the honor of Judaism. Riesser might easily have joined Montefiore and Crémieux, might have accompanied them to Egypt as the representative of the German Jews, and used his eloquence on behalf of the sufferers; but no such idea was even suggested. Geiger, from hatred to the Talmud, had actually admitted that the anti-Semites were right in attributing misanthropical expressions to the Talmud. Certain high-minded Jews in Germany felt it the more necessary to take public action in the matter. Riesser, together with a few friends, desired to found societies, through which the Jews of the four chief countries of Europe were to offer some public recognition to their two representatives. But this plan of acknowledging their indebtedness fell through. In fact, the three objects desired by the people were only imperfectly carried out, because the right means to attain them were not pursued. The services of Montefiore were, however, acknowledged with fervent enthusiasm on his return to London by a public celebration in the synagogues, and a piece of plate was presented to him in remembrance of his success. A still greater distinction awaited him at the hands of Queen Victoria. She rewarded him with an addition to his armorial bearings (June 24), a great honor both to his race and himself. Yet more important than this toy for adults were the words of Her Majesty that accompanied the gracious distinction:
"Inasmuch as it was brought to our notice, that in consequence of tidings from the East, which stated that, on account of the accusation that they had murdered Father Tomaso, Jews in Damascus and Rhodes had been imprisoned and tortured, that many children had been thrown into prison and deprived of almost all nourishment, and that many persons had been so cruelly tortured that death ensued, ... our trusty and well-beloved Sir Moses Montefiore, accompanied by Lady Montefiore, had quite voluntarily journeyed to Alexandria with the view of proving the falsehood of the charge and of conducting the affairs of his unhappy and persecuted brethren; that he succeeded in obtaining from the Pasha, Mehmet Ali, the honorable liberation of the accused who were incarcerated, and the permission for those who had fled the city to return home; that for this purpose he procured a Firman in Constantinople from his Imperial Majesty the Sultan Abdul Meg'id, which declared the innocence of the Jews, and assured equal rights with all other subjects to members of the Jewish religion under Turkish rule—we have taken the above mentioned facts into our royal consideration, and desire to give to Montefiore a special mark of our royal favor, in memory of his persevering efforts on behalf of his suffering and persecuted brethren in the East, and of his nation in general."
It was an extract from the history of modern Jews related by the Queen herself.
In comparison with this distinction, the proposal of certain French congregations of the Upper Rhine to strike a medal in honor of Crémieux appears very trivial. They shared the general idea, "that it was important for future generations to perpetuate the memory of the events of 1840 affecting Israelites." But Crémieux declined the medal. In what manner these joyful, national memories were to be immortalized was a matter concerning which there was general indecision. Crémieux asked the French Jews and others to support the schools that he had established in Alexandria and Cairo by their contributions. Only a small amount, however, was subscribed: the maintenance of the Crémieux schools in Egypt was only accidentally connected with the main question, and was not likely to keep the exaltation of the Jews at a high pitch. One suitable proposition was made, but no notice was taken of it.
"It is not by ostentatious gifts, nor by clamorous celebrations, that we can testify our gratitude. We would offer the finest testimonial to the men who went to the rescue by perpetuating this great historical event in a religious form appropriate to its religious spirit. It should be commemorated by an annual festival equal to the festivals of Chanuka and Purim; for on those days it may be said that Israel was delivered from bodily suffering, whilst on this day it was delivered from spiritual servitude."
Judaism never knew a more effectual way of commemorating its liberation and victories and arousing a spirit of emulation in posterity than by establishing days of memorial, by means of which, time, the destroyer, is made the protector of historical events. If that most skillful master of the Hebrew language, Isaac Erter, had completed the narrative of the persecution and the deliverance in Damascus, which he had commenced in the simple biblical style, and if the heads of the Jewish communities had resolved to commemorate the most important day in the Damascus affair, and to read this "Scroll" (Megillah) in public, the lasting remembrance of these occurrences would have been assured, and at the same time a means would have been found of cementing afresh the bonds of fellowship. The Jews of Asia and Africa and on the whole globe would joyfully have accepted such a festival as an international memorial. Munk, whose voice carried great weight, remarked:
"Would that the sad Damascus incident might at least serve to make us take cognizance of our disorganized condition, which, though mournful to contemplate, is unfortunately a fact. Would that it might show us that in times of danger we must rely upon ourselves, and that the bond that formerly united us might be renewed."
Instead of unity, however, a rupture took place within German Judaism, which, though caused by a trifling dispute that might easily have been settled in the commencement, grew to great proportions. The consciousness of opposition was present, and by chance it asserted itself on this occasion; but it might equally well have shown itself at any other time, so long as it was not allayed, or had not worn off. The Hamburg Temple, which twenty years before had first stirred up dissensions between the old-fashioned orthodox party and the reformers, again brought about a quarrel, which henceforth assumed a fiercer complexion. The congregation of the Temple had largely increased in numbers since its foundation. The younger members of the old-fashioned community had joined, because in the old synagogue they found no satisfaction for their devotional cravings, and they objected to the continual disorder that prevailed. The new congregation had already grown to nearly eight hundred members, and included a man who in his own person was a great attraction. After the death of Bresselau, the secretary of the congregation, Gabriel Riesser had accepted that post. He became closely connected with the Temple, and was elected to the office of second warden. As his name was in extraordinary repute, owing to his untiring zeal for the political and social emancipation of the Jews in Germany, his adhesion to the Temple shed new luster upon it. When the members of the Temple determined to erect a new and larger house of prayer, the old party by complaining to the senate threw obstacles in the way of the undertaking. The authorities of the Temple had also caused a new prayer-book to be compiled.
The altered liturgy of the Temple was published and announced as a general "Prayer-Book for Israelites," but was so objectionable to the orthodox party as to be utterly rejected. The circumstance that the new prayer-book claimed to be used by all Jews gave rise to great annoyance. Chacham Bernays therefore renewed on a Sabbath, in the three synagogues (Marcheshvan 1, October 16, 1841), the proclamation against heretics which the three rabbis had issued on the foundation of the Temple, forbidding any Israelite to use this prayer-book. In the reasons assigned, harsh expressions were employed charging that this prayer-book, even more than the former, gave wanton and frivolous treatment to the religious convictions contained in the Hebrew prayers. This denunciation naturally excited the Temple congregants, and transported even the cautious Riesser to inordinate lengths. Whilst the preachers regarded the insulting expression of opinion from a religious standpoint, Riesser saw in it an encroachment upon their rights, "because the Chacham had no authority over the Temple." The Temple committee then published a counter-declaration (October 24), in which Bernays was charged not alone with "arrogance, impotent partiality, and malicious ignoring of the contents of the book," but with "ignorance of all theological and liturgical literature." There now arose a violent dispute, conducted with such passion, that the senate was compelled to reprove both parties. The Chacham and the leaders of his congregation, who sided with him, circulated thousands of copies of the sentence of condemnation upon the prayer-book in many communities; whilst the authorities of the Temple (November) requested rabbis and preachers holding the same religious views to give their opinions as to the value or worthlessness of the innovations, expecting that the decisions would be in their favor. On this occasion, the changes which had taken place in the German communities during two decades became evident. Whereas formerly only three rabbis had ambiguously given their assent to the ritual of the Temple, and many others had condemned it, at this second discussion only the rabbi of Altona supported Bernays, whilst twelve or thirteen others pronounced judgment adverse to him; this was at the close of 1841, or the beginning of 1842. Then began the aggressive stage of the reform movement. Young rabbis or clergymen, pastors (as they preferred to be called), who had mostly drawn their wisdom from academies, and were enthusiastic for the reform which had become the fashion, now were at the head. The old rabbis, on the other hand, no longer ventured to oppose them. Thus it seemed as if all the Jews of Germany were in favor of innovations in the synagogue, and only a few wanting in spirit struggled against this tendency.
The contest concerning the Hamburg Temple bore no results in the city itself, as a terrible conflagration (May, 1842) transformed a great part of the town into a mass of ruins, and distracted attention from party interests. The flame of reform blazed up from another point, and threatened to spread far and wide. In Frankfort-on-the-Main, for some time past, there had been discontented persons who had broken away from the Judaism of the day. These disturbing elements partly originated in a school called the Philanthropin (which from small beginnings had grown into an important institution), partly in the first Jewish Freemasons' lodge. The managers and teachers of the school and the members of the lodge favored a radicalism repugnant to Judaism. For a long time Michael Creizenach (born 1789, died 1842), a teacher at the Philanthropin, formed the center of an invisible society. Creizenach, who was honest, judicious, but uninteresting, had published many pamphlets combating Rabbinical Talmudical Judaism, but owing to their temperate tone and want of depth, these writings made little impression. By his personal influence, however, he filled the circle of his friends and admirers with a passion for innovation and a deep aversion to antiquity.
After his death several of his adherents endeavored to form a congregation, and to establish a sect, even at the risk of separating from Judaism. Their aim was in a measure to remove the pretext of anti-Jewish politicians, who withheld equal rights from the Jews on the score of attachment to their nationality, to the Talmud, and to old forms, and they also desired to secure freedom of action for themselves. They were educated laymen, who, owing to the prevailing confusion, had lost mental balance, or they may have been misled by false leaders. They constituted themselves a Society of the Friends of Reform (October, 1842), and drew up a confession of faith, which clearly proved the perplexity of the times. They refused to recognize the Talmud as an authority. But the Bible? "They considered the Mosaic religion capable of continual development." First of all they wished to throw off the fetters of the dietary laws, because they "had originated in the ancient constitution of the state," and at the present day had lost their significance as a religious act or symbol. They definitely gave up all hope in the Messiah, or a return to Palestine, "because they regarded their native land as their sole fatherland."
The Creizenach Friends of Reform did not find many supporters. They therefore sought to interest Gabriel Riesser, whose importance was already acknowledged, and who might attract others. He was at first inclined to join them. He appears not to have overcome the excitement into which he had been thrown by Bernays' intervention in the affairs of the Hamburg Temple. He did not even shrink from total secession, although he had hitherto constantly desired to have "the shell of Judaism respected on account of its soul." The idea of freedom, which completely filled his mind, destroyed his emotional attachment to existing Judaism. He was therefore eminently in favor of the paragraph in the Creizenach or Frankfort programme which declared that it was optional with every Jewish father to have his sons circumcised, and that in case of the omission of this rite civil disabilities should not be entailed. Riesser wished to combat any presumptive right of forcing conscience. However, others who had been asked to join, took umbrage at this very question of circumcision. The founders of the Society of the Friends of Reform, therefore, saw themselves obliged to relinquish this point as well as the declaration against the dietary laws, and to adhere to only three out of the five resolutions of their original programme: that against the Talmud, that against the Messiah, and that enunciating the possibility of the development of the "Mosaic religion." This abridgment and enfeebling of the original confession, Riesser considered illogical and cowardly, and he withdrew his support. The power of attraction was lacking in the society, and as only a few joined, it perished at its birth. The question of circumcision was shortly afterwards brought forward from another quarter. Several unfortunate accidents at the circumcision of Jewish boys had induced the health officers in Frankfort-on-the-Main to issue an order (February 8, 1843) with the ambiguous wording, "Israelite citizens and inhabitants, if they desire to have their children circumcised, must employ the services of competent persons." From this it appeared that the Frankfort Senate made it optional with Jewish parents to perform the rite or neglect it, and did not regard it as a necessary mark of the Jewish religion. The Senate at the same time explained that they did not mean thereby to give untrammeled liberty to the innovators. But the reformers seized upon the words in order to have a pretext for abolishing the rite of circumcision. In consequence, Rabbi Solomon Trier invited the opinions of his brother rabbis upon the subject (1843–44) in order to dispose of the question forever. However, it caused but a slight sensation, seeing that even young rabbis favorably disposed to reform had decisively asserted the obligation and necessity of circumcision. Therefore, no seceding sect was formed among the Jews of Germany, although the elements existed, and an uneasy state of feeling was the result.
This feeling was especially noticeable among the younger rabbis, who were not very clear about the purpose and extent of the reforms to be instituted, or met with continual opposition on one side or the other in their congregations, and in their isolation were without support. At this time the fashion of assemblies and societies had come into vogue; railways had already been built between the great cities, and had facilitated personal intercourse. Thus the invitation calling a conference of rabbis met with approval. This meeting of rabbis and preachers who were, to some extent, at one upon the subjects under discussion, at first awakened a certain expectancy; it was a novelty, and this always possesses a certain amount of charm. However, at the first session only twenty-two rabbis assembled in Brunswick, the majority coming from southern and western Germany. The remainder waited until the resolutions of the assembly should be made known, and according as they agreed or disagreed with them, they would decide whether to join or to hold aloof. Few rabbis attended who adhered to the Judaism rooted in the Talmud; most of the members had partially, or wholly, severed themselves from the Talmud, although they did not practically manifest this severance in their religious practices.
The first Rabbinical Assembly was dominated by a man possessing all the qualities calculated to widen the breach and bring about a complete separation. This was Samuel Holdheim (born at Kempen, 1806; died at Berlin, 1860). It is a curious yet natural fact that Talmudism, which had acquired its power and extensive range through Polish students, should be attacked by a Pole with unsparing severity. On emerging from boyhood Holdheim displayed not only extraordinary acquaintance with the Talmud and Rabbinical literature, but also such remarkable versatility in dialectics and the art of discussion that he won the admiration of grey-bearded rabbis, and was considered a highly-skilled Talmudist.
Like Solomon Maimon, Holdheim when he already had a son began his secular education in the academy at Prague, skipping the lower grades. All that he heard in the philosophical lecture-rooms in this not very distinguished university was new to him, astounded and dazzled him, and resulted in great perturbation of mind. He quickly assimilated such elements of knowledge as were connected with his previous acquirements, such as Christian theology and the commonplace philosophy tolerated in Austria under Metternich. But he had no appreciation of solid, disciplining branches of learning, and even the subjects which attracted him he had first to reproduce in a Talmudical form. Holdheim's knowledge therefore was only of a fragmentary nature, and contained numerous gaps. He was, however, sufficiently careful and practical to devote himself to useful work, to acquire a good style, which had been neglected in his education, and cultivate pulpit eloquence. Owing to his poverty, he was compelled to devote himself to professional studies, and was thus unable to spend time upon his favorite subjects. The Bible which had hitherto been a closed book to Holdheim, or had only been examined by him through Talmudical glasses, he studied solely to obtain verses for his sermons. It is not granted to everyone to possess ideals and regulate his conduct by them. There must also exist dry, calm, doubting natures, occupied only with the world of real things, who build themselves huts here below, and look with contempt on all sublime and ideal sentiments as being froth and folly. Such Mephistophelian temperaments, the incarnation of the spirit of doubt, are as necessary in the sphere of moral life as opposition in nature. Holdheim had this tendency, and his Talmudical culture nourished and developed it. He knew of no enthusiasm, neither for the calm light of pale memories, nor for the dim, cloudy dreams of the future. The firm ground of the present was more to his taste. Since Judaism consists of memories and hopes, Holdheim was not heart and soul devoted to it, but sought to remodel and alter it, so that he might not be inconvenienced.
Mecklenburg-Schwerin, where the typical brutality of the Middle Ages had been preserved, and where mere caprice wielded the scepter, was at this time ruled by a prince, who, instead of making his Jews free in action, wished them to be Freethinkers. They were to cast off all old memories and forms and remodel themselves. A superintendent was appointed for the disciplining of the congregations, and Holdheim was made chief rabbi (1840) to assist in reforms, and stamp innovations with the rabbinical seal. Here he felt untrammeled, and could abolish whatever was distasteful to him. He who formerly had had no conception that divine service must possess dignity, now discovered that disorder in the synagogue was unseemly, and determined to remove everything not countenanced by the spirit of the times. As, however, a desire for changes in the synagogue did not originate from any impulse of his own, he looked around for patterns, and introduced the Würtemberg ritual, undisturbed by any consideration as to whether he was forcing the consciences of the mostly old-fashioned orthodox congregations.
But Holdheim was not to win laurels by introducing innovations into the synagogue. He marked out a wider field for himself. He wished to alter the whole of Judaism in its threefold form, with its Biblical, Talmudical, and Rabbinical components, to confuse all ideas and stultify the consciences. Since Paul of Tarsus, Judaism had not known such an enemy in its midst, who shook the whole edifice to its very foundations. But Holdheim possessed no original ideas to use as a lever for overthrowing Judaism: he had only a certain ingenuity which he had gained from the Talmud. He was therefore obliged to make use of such thoughts of others as had become public property. His acute intellect, however, enabled him to piece together these disjointed, half true premises, and give them a coloring of truth. Judaism, he said, consists of a close combination of religious and moral ideas with national and political elements. Holdheim accepted this definition in order to separate the religious from the national ordinances, the latter having lost all significance since the downfall of the Jewish state. Which laws are national and therefore temporary? Holdheim gave a wide application to the term, calling all observances national and political which are inconvenient, and require a certain amount of self-denial, such as keeping the Sabbath, the Jewish laws of marriage, and even the acquisition of the Hebrew language, which he desired to banish from the midst of the Jewish race, because it is a national bond of union; and still more national is a hope in the Messiah. To this sophistry Holdheim added other quibbles. He considered every state, however constituted, even Russian despotism, an all-devouring Moloch which continually demands victims, and whose lust for sacrifices can be satisfied only by the abnegation of independence, freedom, and every religious sentiment. The culminating point of Holdheim's theory was that Talmudical Judaism itself, in the expression "the law of the state is law for the Jews" (in civil relations), obliges every Jew to subordinate his religious affairs to those of the state; Judaism, in other words, prescribes its own suicide, if the state provides it with a silken halter. Had he lived in the time of the Maccabees, Holdheim would have joined the renegade Menelaus in urging the Jews to worship the Greek Zeus, because the state, which was then called Antiochus Epiphanes, had so commanded. In the time of Hadrian, like a second Acher, he would have lauded the cult of Jupiter of the Capitol, and in the days of Philip of Spain and Emanuel of Portugal he would have advocated the worship of the cross. The millions of Jewish martyrs, according to his theory, were malefactors against the state, inasmuch as they had opposed the laws given to them. Holdheim, the son of the Talmud, struck down Talmudical Judaism with the weapons which it had bestowed upon him. The authority and power which the legislative Synhedrion had formerly possessed, or is said to have possessed, Holdheim wished to see transferred to the Christian state, even the right of interfering with matters of conscience. These ideas he propounded with sophistic casuistry, unmistakably according to the method of the Polish Rabbinical school. It was difficult for Holdheim to decide what Judaism actually was, and what would be left of it, after everything in any way connected with national political life had been excluded, and when supreme authority was besides vested in each state, to change, command, or prohibit religious practices.
The majority of the members of the first assemblage of rabbis in Brunswick looked upon Holdheim with awe as a Talmudical scholar and a reckless reformer, and he obtained distinct influence over the discussions and resolutions of the meeting. Less attention was paid to the letter and spirit of Judaism "than to the state, the exalted German governments," and the intangible, whimsical "spirit of the age." The Talmud was sacrificed by most of the delegates as a scapegoat. Yet the debates and conclusions of the Brunswick conference of rabbis (June, 1844) produced but little effect. The congregations troubled themselves as little about it as they did about the protest from seventy-seven rabbis of Germany, Bohemia, Moravia, and Hungary, which, set on foot by an upright, self-sacrificing, disinterested, but bigoted zealot, Hirsch Lehren of Amsterdam, utterly condemned the assembly of Brunswick.
Events in the Christian world at about this time demonstrated more effectually than this laboriously constructed protest, that Judaism with its ancient confession had not yet become superfluous. The exhibition of the pretended holy coat of Jesus in Treves, to which more than a million Catholics from all countries made a pilgrimage and bent the knee (August-October, 1844), showed that the "spirit of the age" was a deceptive standard. In consequence of this excess of mediæval superstition and credulity, there arose in Germany what promised to be an influential anti-Catholic movement. A German Catholic Church was established (January, 1845), and next to it, in the bosom of Protestantism, "Communities of the Friends of Light" were formed, who threatened Christianity, its belief in the Trinity, and the Divine Incarnation, with imminent dissolution. Every period has its delusions, and Jews can always be found ready to imitate strange customs. Here and there voices were raised in favor of founding a German Jewish Church after the pattern of the German Catholic. In Breslau the agitation for this new scheme was only artificially kept alive, but this movement was somewhat more energetic in Berlin. In this city a popular preacher, Stern, had been delivering lectures upon Judaism and Jewish history, and had characterized Jewish doctrines as a capricious system. At his suggestion, some twenty men, whose opinions upon these topics were in accord with his own, assembled for the purpose of establishing a sort of Church system of a peculiar type, called the Reform Association (April 2, 1845). They believed that the majority of German Jews had disowned all attachment to ancient Judaism in their hearts, and would gladly adopt a new creed. The founders of the Berlin Reform Association therefore issued a summons to all Israel to attend a synod, in order to establish a new Jewish religion. In their programme they naturally tabulated only negative principles, such as the rejection of the Talmud and of the Messianic doctrine, because they belonged with body and soul to their Berlin home; they advocated a return to Holy Writ, not to its literal sense, but to its spirit. The affirmative principles were: "We desire faith, positive religion, Judaism." The confusion of ideas at this time was as great as when the Christian communities of old were first originated from semi-Jewish elements, and even clear heads became affected.
The matter did not, however, result in a synod for the discussion of reform, which would indeed have marked the Jews as slavish imitators of the Church and of the "Friends of Light." The speeches in favor of the movement made in various quarters proved full of hollow phrases. The Berlin Society adhered to its programme, and as this found no favor in the eyes of the masses, it was to be ratified by the second Rabbinical Convention held in Frankfort (July, 1845), as being in consonance with Judaism.
This Assembly aroused greater excitement and fiercer passion than the first, because, on the one hand, the Berlin Reform Union participated in it, in order to infuse their own spirit or to effect its downfall, whilst, on the other hand, a skillful leader of the orthodox party temporarily joined it, in order to show how Judaism should be purified, or to throw obstacles in the way, if the Reformers should seem to rush to reckless extremes. The orthodox leader was Zachariah Frankel (born 1801, died 1875). He somewhat resembled Holdheim. Both were profoundly learned in the Talmud, and both acquired their secular education when advanced in years, but their points of dissimilarity were yet more striking. In Holdheim's character the prominent features were his innate or acquired love of scoffing at, and his utter contempt for, the past. In Frankel one is struck by the moral earnestness which, together with his warm-heartedness, rendered him worthy of respect by his true regard for inherited forms, his conscientiousness in every matter, and his firm but somewhat peculiar character. Holdheim loved the present and the practical, Frankel the future and the ideal: the former strove to erase from men's memories all traces of the Talmud and Rabbinical Judaism, if not of Judaism altogether; whilst the latter justified and glorified the Talmud. The main aim of Frankel's scientific activity was to demonstrate that Talmudical tradition was correct, and that another Talmud had been known even before ours. He sought traces of this original tradition in the ancient Greek translation of the Pentateuch, in the compositions of the two Judæo-Greek authors, Philo and Josephus, and especially in non-Talmudical sources. Such comprehensive studies were possible only in a man of his marvelous intellectual power and wonderful constitution.
Although Frankel labored to maintain the glory of the Talmud and to prove that reverence was due to Jewish antiquity, he was not averse to religious reforms, nor was he blind to the necessities of modern times. However, although he would not recognize the claim of an individual to institute reforms, he was ready to appeal to a scientific tribunal and the voice of the people, the whole Jewish world. He did not desire to revive obsolete forms into a semblance of life, even though they had formerly been of importance, and was willing to abolish such existing customs as scientific inquiry pronounced to be unjustified or hurtful. Frankel wished to see a conference of rabbis, or, more correctly, of notables in the foremost rank of Jewish learning, so that the chasm between the old and the new systems might be bridged over. He therefore joined the assembly of rabbis at Frankfort, hoping to counteract the eager desire for reform by the weight of his name, which, owing to his distinguished position as a writer, was already famous, and to aid in guarding against imprudent measures, or at least in modifying them. Like Holdheim and Geiger, who brought their programmes of reform with them, he brought his, and in it he endeavored to reconcile antiquity with progress.
Harassed by the contending influences of Frankel and the reformers, the conference grew vacillating. The first motion brought forward, which was not wholly unexpected, that the Hebrew language should, if possible, be eradicated from the minds and memories of the whole Jewish race, obliged Frankel to sever his connection with the assembly publicly, and the applause that his conduct called forth revealed the fact that the Rabbinical Convention did not represent the entire body of the German Jews, but only a small, active party. Unconsciously the Frankfort Assembly had lost its balance. Its members were obliged to dissemble before the Reform Society. They had to praise its actions, or they would have lost its support. On the other hand, they did not dare openly to espouse its hollow views, or they would have lost favor with the congregations. A subterfuge helped them out of this perplexity; they promised to support the efforts of the Reform Association to the utmost, if the latter would "agree with the principles by which they thought reform in Judaism ought to be guided," which sounded like a hidden reproach.
The Reform Society was not repelled by this partial condemnation; they knew that the leaders of the conference, especially Holdheim, sided with them, and they deceived themselves with the delusion that they were creating an essentially new form of Judaism. They formed themselves into a congregation of about two hundred members, and celebrated a consecration (April 2, 1846), when Holdheim as high priest offered up clouds of incense. The congregation and their pastor were well fitted for each other, and however much they resisted at first, in the end they had to embrace in friendship. Thus a "German Jewish Church" was established with a temple, a preacher, and a ritual of its own. It seemed as if time had gone back some seventeen centuries, and that they were in some town of Syria, or Asia Minor, or in Rome, when, out of the conflict of ancient Judaism with semi-Christian and semi-pagan elements, new congregations had arisen, retaining only faint traces of Judaism. The new customs prevailed in the Reform Temple in Berlin. Praying with uncovered heads especially marked it as of foreign growth, and repulsed even some who otherwise approved of reform. Hebrew was retained only in a few prayers and in the readings from the Pentateuch. The Reform Temple, in fact, assumed a Germanic tinge, and threw off its Jewish cosmopolitan character. The trace of its Jewish origin was visible only in the divine service; in their mode of living the members could not be recognized as the descendants of Jews. Perhaps Holdheim was even more fanatically desirous of seeing every Jewish custom abolished than his free-thinking congregants. He disregarded not alone Rabbinical Judaism and the Talmud, but also duties ordained by the Holy Scripture. But even in the reform community it was evident that Jewish self-reliance had progressed greatly since the time of Friedländer. The reform party had completely overcome its inclination towards Christianity. Of its constituents, who number one thousand souls, not one member nor any of their children joined the Christian Church. They do not desire to be considered a separate sect, but as an integral element of the Jewish race.
The Berlin reformers, however, remained isolated, and found no following in Europe. In their own midst, a lukewarm spirit crept in, sooner even than their opponents had anticipated. From want of visitors to the house of prayer, the Sabbath worship had to be transferred to Sunday, the same change that had been made by the Jewish Christians in the first century. The question of Sunday worship cannot be discussed here; it belongs to the immediate present. Such lukewarmness and lack of interest should have convinced the founders, who lived to witness them, that they had committed some mistake. To give an account of this blunder in its entirety cannot be attempted in this history; it would be overstepping the bounds of a record of events. One circumstance, however, must not be forgotten, that the Berlin Society of Reform had an antagonist in its vicinity. This enemy, of whom it had taken no account, was the more dangerous, as he used his incisive eloquence and every fiber of his being to protest against the new sect founded by the Berlin Committee. This opponent was Michael Sachs, who was born at Glogau, 1808, and died at Berlin at the beginning of 1864.
If bountiful nature had determined to create a thorough contrast to Holdheim, she succeeded in Sachs. Externally, mentally, in appearance, speech, attitude, and tendency of mind, in his learning and character, even in habits and fancies—in everything the two men were so totally opposed, that at first sight they could hardly be recognized as members of the same race, devotees of the same calling. If Holdheim represented the Jewish Polish spirit, strung to the highest pitch by Talmudical dialectics, Michael Sachs called to mind the Jewish emigrants from the Pyrenean peninsula, ennobled by classic forms and æsthetic teachings. He resembled the noble Isaac Cardoso, or Isaac de Pinedo, or any one of the numerous poets and scholars of Marrano lineage in Holland and Italy, who combined deep devotion to Judaism with taste for poetical or philological studies.
Owing to his peculiar nature, and the twofold influence exercised upon his mind by Hebrew and Greek literature, Sachs became an ideal personality, like Gebirol and Jehuda Halevi, who could flourish only upon the clear heights of existence, and felt physical disgust at everything of a mean character. There was no equivocation in him; feeling, thought, and action all flowed from one source. He was, therefore, mercilessly bitter against falsehood, ambiguity, and hypocrisy, against all ostentation and pomposity, against noisy hollowness and vanity; he scourged them with the lash of his words and with his striking, brilliant wit. Noble-minded and self-sacrificing to a fault, humble before God and before man as bearing the impress of the Divine, Sachs was proudly repellent to all who in religion, art, science, or public life use counterfeit coin, and conceal their own self-seeking petty interests under the veil of a general, large purpose. If Sachs in respect to convictions, character, moral elevation, capacity for self-denial, and devotion to duty and his faith, was thoroughly Jewish, in his deep love of beauty he was Hellenic, and in his person contradicted the alleged impossibility of this dual nature, which had been asserted by Heine. Whatever was ugly, inharmonious, or ungainly, was as repugnant to him as the immoral and the untrue.
Judaism was dearest to his heart, for he considered it a revelation from the God who directs mankind, and the embodiment of all that is exalted and sacred; and he would not allow it to be subtly explained away by the philosophy of the times. Sachs did not fail to observe the objectionable excrescences which had arisen on its surface, but he knew their origin, and believed that time, which had produced, would destroy them. He hesitated, however, to lay hands upon them, for fear of injuring the sound, whilst removing the unsound and decayed parts. He would not trust himself, nor any one, with the task of making innovations. This suspicion of decisive reforms originated partly in his aversion to active measures, which was one of his failings. As he was only human he could not be without faults. Another error, which avenged itself upon him and the party he represented, was his unconquerable dislike to uniting for common action even with those who shared his opinions. Sachs would have joyfully subordinated himself to leaders whose loftiness of mind could have inspired him with respect. But as he found no such characters among his contemporaries, he would not attach himself to men in no way superior to himself, or who did not even attain to his own height. Thus he was equally unfit to be a party-leader and a partisan.
Sachs' great qualities and small failings forced his vocation upon him: he was destined for the pulpit. The easy stream of his eloquence, his depth of feeling, warmth of conviction, grace of gesture, the charm that he exercised when interpreting the prophets and Agadists, the brilliant wit at his command, the beauty of his voice and his smooth diction—all combined to make him unsurpassed by the best preachers of his time, and his only equal was Mannheimer. When standing in the pulpit, Sachs appeared to be transfigured and oblivious of himself; it seemed as if one of the prophets of God were exhorting the people, or encouraging the despondent by his tidings of an ideal future. Even those of his hearers who did not share his convictions were carried away by his eloquence, and were compelled to yield him a tribute of praise. Sachs, however, was a persuasive speaker not only in the pulpit, but also in ordinary conversation. His speech overflowed with the warmth of the sentiments which filled his heart. His impressive words, which issued from the depths of his being, attracted many faithful adherents to Judaism. Whosoever came into contact with him was drawn into a magic circle, and absorbed somewhat of his convictions. His influence was the greater because he never made an effort to persuade; he simply spoke out what was in him. Nothing was more hateful to him than the display of official dignity, sham devotional fervor, and the pastoral airs copied from Christian clergymen.
In Prague, where he roused the German-speaking inhabitants, both Christians and Jews, to a high pitch of enthusiasm, a happy chance brought him into contact with Rapoport (1840–44), one of the founders of Jewish science. An intimate friendship sprang up between these two men, whose education had been conducted on such different lines, and Sachs was introduced by his friend into the rich domain of Jewish literature, which had hitherto been only in part accessible to him, as his attention had been concentrated on the study of the Holy Scriptures and on classical literature. His talent of vividly perceiving the essential and excellent elements of a subject and storing them in his brain, soon made him master of this new material, and enabled him to impart it to a wide circle in a refined form. But Sachs never became fully acquainted with the dialectics of the Talmud, which was Holdheim's strong point, and this territory remained foreign to him. Though he deeply lamented this deficiency in his knowledge, it was no real defect, for such studies did not accord with the Hellenic side of his nature, and would have blighted the blossoms of his genius. As though destined to counteract the influence of the Jewish German Church, which was to assume form in Berlin, and to become the opposite pole to Holdheim's endless negations, he was elected by the congregation of Berlin as preacher and rabbi. Here, by instilling into the minds of his congregants the same Jewish confidence with which he was inspired, and a feeling of righteous pride in belonging to so ancient, noble, and cultured a race, he succeeded to some extent in curing them of their inclination to Christianity, and the evil habit of imitation to which they had so long been subject. This change in thought, which affected the most remote circles, weakened the antipathy towards the Jews of Berlin, which since the time of Friedländer had prevailed in other communities. Sachs was included among the most distinguished personages of the Prussian capital; the cultured Christian world lavished attentions on him, although he did not seek them. Had he given vigorous and energetic effect to his words, and created permanent institutions—for which plenty of opportunity would have been given him by the liberal Berlin community—perhaps the reform congregation might not have arisen.
He combated the reform tendency with all his strength. In Holdheim and his allies he beheld only perverters of Judaism and false leaders of the people, and he openly expressed this opinion, for, as he often remarked, "Against insult and harsh words I am hardened and indifferent." From the pulpit he wielded the scourge of his annihilating scorn against the Jewish German Church, which had so limited the development of Judaism, that it could be contained in a nutshell. But even his opponents admitted that he employed only honorable weapons, the use of others being at variance with his noble nature. He did great harm to the Reform Temple. Persons who had heard Sachs' sermons were wearied by those in the reform synagogue. A comparison between Sachs and his opposite, Holdheim, who was a contrast to him in every way, always resulted in favor of the former. Whilst the Temple where Holdheim preached became more and more deserted, the synagogue in which Sachs officiated became more crowded week after week.
As Sachs performed great services in elevating and strengthening Jewish self-respect, so also he promoted Jewish knowledge. His contributions to the latter touch the form rather than the essence. In fact, he merely popularized Jewish subjects, and rendered them accessible to educated Christians. Sachs did not indeed promulgate novel, epoch-making truths, or discover new facts. Nor was he a poetical artist who could create brilliant pictures of ideal worlds. There was more poetry in his life and teachings than in his verses. His refined perceptions enabled him to recognize and reproduce the slightest shades in the beauties which other artists had created, and he idealized what other inquirers had discovered. The most decided bent of his intellect was towards the exegetical interpretation of Holy Writ. His fervent love of Judaism and its ancient scriptures, his profound knowledge of Hebrew, which was the language of his heart, and finally his delicate æsthetic feeling for philology, were all displayed in his exegetical work. Early in life Sachs conceived the idea, to which he ever remained true, of restoring to the Hebrew Scriptures their pure and original sense, and freeing them from all accretions and blemishes. Inspired by the example of Rückert, "the poet of the East and West, the learned master in translation and exposition," he commenced with the Psalms, which might have been the outpourings of his own pious heart. Afterwards, assisted by various fellow-workers, Sachs translated several books of Holy Scripture in an admirable style to form a "Bible for Israelites." But as he worked more with his heart than his brain, his biblical exegesis was wanting in a firm basis. The task of opening up new paths in this direction fell to the lot of Christian scholars.
Sachs took an active part in excavating the buried figures of the Jewish past, cleansing them from disfiguring incrustations, and placing them in their proper light. Three periodicals were particularly devoted to this purpose—the "Kerem Chemed" and the "Zion" in Hebrew, and the "Orient" in German. Young and old assisted in erecting a Jewish temple of fame, and contributions flowed in from all parts of Europe. The "forties" were especially prolific in the cultivation of Jewish science. It was not pedantic scholarship, but their heart that urged Jewish authors to bring forward clear proof that Judaism, in all its ramifications, went hand in hand with civilization. The Judæo-Spanish epoch exercised special attraction upon Jewish inquirers. It showed what the Jews had accomplished, and could accomplish in wealth of thought and beauty of form. Jewish science at the same time was to serve as an apology to the detractors of Jews and Judaism, and as an ideal for arousing emulation. The brilliant Spanish epoch was known to Jewish scholars alone, and to them only in rough fragments. Sachs undertook to reconstruct from these fragments an organic, beautiful whole, and by his eloquent language to attract those who had no religious interest in the subject. His "Religious Poetry of the Jews in Spain" (1845) offers more than the title indicates. Sachs attractively describes the series of the products of Jewish genius, from the time "when in terrible agony the limbs were torn from the living body," after the destruction of the Jewish center by the Romans, until the flourishing period of neo-Hebraic poetry in Spain. The attention of the cultured world was directed by Sachs' work to the wealth and beauty of Jewish literature in the Middle Ages, of which hitherto it had had no suspicion; even Heine was seized with admiration, and employed his golden pen in its cause.
At the same time the literature of the mediæval Jews in France and Germany, and of the Jewish poets of Provence was treated with copious detail, but in a style fitted for a learned audience. Zunz, the author of this work, justly rebuked his contemporaries for their contemptuous neglect of this branch of literature, to which Christian students of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries had devoted so much attention.
Continuous devotion to the literature of the Middle Ages threatened to become too one-sided. That epoch, with its productions, was after all only the offspring of the national activity of bygone days, and the grandchild or great-grandchild of a still more important period. This obscure question, the dual origin of Judaism, from the Bible and the Talmud, was clearly illumined by the light of investigation through Jewish science in the "forties." The Talmud lay under a ban, and was treated with most offensive contempt. It was the scapegoat upon which all the guilt and misery of the Jews were laid. Like a leper it was shunned by respectable investigators. But this did not last; the question was raised whether the very writings which had served as the basis for Christianity had not been inter-penetrated with Talmudic elements. The proof of the affirmative answer to this question was boldly undertaken by Frankel. Yet more important was the fact that it was made apparent that the strong side of the Talmud lies in its ideas of justice and their development. The superiority of the Talmudic penal code over the legislation of ancient times was established. The result of a scientific treatment of the Talmud was that Judaism had no cause to be ashamed of it.
But Judaism, together with its followers, remained an undecipherable hieroglyphic, a dark mystery, which one century transmitted to the other unsolved, so long as the "original rock from which it had been hewn, the depths from which it had been hollowed" continued to be unknown. Only a thorough knowledge of its primary sources, its sacred scriptures, could supply the key to this riddle. Centuries had elapsed, and the solution was not yet found. After Holy Writ, the mother of two or three religions, had so long been deified by the masses that it was regarded as "the all in all," and its explanations of life, nature, and history had been eagerly accepted, it had fallen into contempt since the middle of the eighteenth century. It shared the fate of the Jewish race. The rationalistic school indeed paid a good deal of attention to Hebrew sources, but only with the intention of diminishing their value. Eichhorn, Gesenius, Von Bohlen, De Wette, and Tuch were filled with antipathy to the Jews, and were thereby hindered from arriving at a correct understanding of the Old Testament. The clericals Tholuck and Hengstenberg sought vainglory therein, and what they discovered they claimed for Christianity. In Jewish circles there were only three men who occupied themselves in a scientific manner with the exposition of the Scriptures, namely, Krochmal, Luzzatto, and Sachs; but they were timid, they feared pressing too close to the borders of Sinai. A man of childlike mind was the first to raise the veil, to comprehend the language of the Prophets and Psalmists, and to reveal the ancient history of the Jewish people in its true light. With the appearance of "The Prophets of the Old Testament," and "The History of the People of Israel" (1843–1847) by Heinrich Ewald, a new path was opened up for the comprehension of the Hebrew genius and people. The riddle so long obscured approached its solution by the discovery of the key.
"The nations of antiquity, the Babylonians, Indians, Egyptians, Phœnicians, Greeks, and Romans, each under favorable circumstances, pursued only one particular object, till at length they reached an eminence not attained by later generations.... The people of Israel, on the other hand, from the beginning of its historical consciousness, has so clearly kept in view its ultimate goal, and so strongly striven to attain it, that it could not lose it from sight for any length of time, and after any momentary pause it pursued it only the more perseveringly. Its goal is perfect religion.... The history of this ancient people is the history of true religion showing every stage of development up to perfection."
This new promising school has, as its fundamental idea, that the race which owed its origin to the seed of Abraham is actually and truly a "people of God," that has given the world truths of salvation in abundance. The unfolding of these truths is manifested in the course of the history and in the literature of the Israelites. It is certainly a grave error of this school, the first to unravel the artistic web, to imagine that the last page of the history of God's people was written eighteen centuries ago, and that since that period it has only led a shadowy existence. Great memories bring about resurrections, and what people has a grander or more brilliant past than the Jewish, or Israelite, or Hebrew people? But if this people is still to accomplish work in the world's history, its chains must be removed, not only those which weigh down the limbs, but also those which confine the mind. The nation had to be freed, only then was it possible to find out whether it would continue an independent existence, or whether it would succumb in the conflict of races.
Unexpectedly the hour of freedom for the European Jews dawned with the revolutions of February and March (1848) in Paris, Vienna, Berlin, in Italy, and other countries. An intoxicating desire for liberty came over the nations of Europe, more overpowering and marvelous even than the movement in 1830. With imperious demands the people confronted their princes and rulers. Among the demands was that of the emancipation of the Jews. In all popular assemblies and proclamations, the despised Jews of yesterday were admitted into the bond of "Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity." What the most sanguine had never ventured to hope for suddenly took place. Jews were elected into parliaments with a vote in the reconstruction of states. A member of the Prussian Landtag had expressed aversion to the idea that a Jew should one day sit beside him, and be able to vote. The following day it actually came to pass, for Riesser and Veit took their seats next to this very man, in order to consider the reconstruction of Germany, whilst Mannheimer, together with Meisels, a rabbi of the old school, clad in Polish garb, helped to reorganize Austria. An assembly of Protestant clergymen had declared that the conversion of a Christian to Judaism was a sign of insanity or idiocy, but within a short space of time, the laws were compelled to concede freedom even to that creed.
During the stormy years of the Revolution and those which followed, newly-established constitutions in Germany were plentiful as blackberries. When, however, the first panic of terror had passed away, and the privileges of nations had become greatly restricted, the emancipation of the Jews was nevertheless taken as a matter of course (even in such cases where a constitution had been forced upon the people), as though this unqualified "Vox populi vox dei" should not be in any way infringed.
It is probable that the partisans of the reaction, as also their rulers, did not intend to realize those paragraphs in the conditions, but the written words had unexpectedly worked like a magic rune. On England alone the storm-year had no effect. The disabilities imposed upon the Jews of that country were gradually put aside as occasion offered. Distinguished personages were elected as aldermen and sheriffs. But the last link in the chain, that of opposition to their admission into Parliament, had not yet been removed. When Baron Lionel de Rothschild was elected as representative of the City, in London, a Bill to confirm this election was repeatedly presented (in the years 1847–51), but after passing through the House of Commons with a majority, it was each time thrown out by the Peers. Although their opponents conceded that the Jews were worthy of admission to Parliament, they were excluded by the formulary of the prescribed oath, "on the true faith of a Christian." Great was the sensation created when David Salomons, after having filled the office of Alderman, and on being elected member for Greenwich, was daring enough to enter the House, and on three occasions to take part in the debates. For this conduct he was fined £1,500, being £500 for each breach of the law. The absurdity of such exclusion became the more striking, when the High Court of Appeal confirmed the heavy penalty (1852) as justifiable by law.
From that time the Liberal party determined to effect the abolition of the form of oath. As no prejudice prevailed in England against the descendants of the Patriarchs, but, on the contrary, a tendency existed in their favor, it was to be foreseen that this last limitation would also disappear. In fact, a few years later a resolution was passed in the House of Peers, that Jews should be admitted without taking the prescribed oath, and this vote was immediately approved by Queen Victoria (1858). Since that time several Jews have occupied the post of Lord Mayor, Baron Nathaniel M. de Rothschild has been created a Peer, and the late Sir George Jessel, Master of the Rolls.
Meanwhile Judaism has made marked progress in another direction. A home for Jewish science was founded in Breslau (1854). It was a matter of pressing necessity, although the want was not universally felt. The march of progress surprised Judaism before the needful measures for remodeling its religious life had been determined upon. Talmudical schools, even in Russia and Hungary, had collapsed for want of support. The rabbis were useless in this emergency. Some who adhered to the old forms found that the congregations no longer appreciated their importance; others who visited the universities chiefly studied Christian theology, but were at a loss how to acquire Jewish knowledge. This knowledge existed only in an embryonic state. There certainly were various learned periodicals, both in Hebrew and in modern tongues, which treated of Jewish scientific subjects, but these afforded only fragmentary information. The teachers of Judaism needed first of all to learn, what is Judaism? What justification is there for it in the new phase of the world's history? They did not know, and could only grope about blindly. They were required to teach, and had not yet acquired the rudiments of the subject. Their precious heritage, the Scriptures, was not sufficiently prized, and only a few specialists, Nachman Krochmal, Michael Sachs, and Samuel David Luzzatto, occupied themselves with this study, and even they threw light only upon certain points. Jewish theological students, unable to drink at the pure source of the word, listened to Christian exponents, and were led astray.