seemed as though Ezekiel's vision were about to be fulfilled:[76] "The
hand of the Lord was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the
Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which was full of bones...
there were very many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very
dry. And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live? And I
answered, O Lord God, thou knowest. Again he said unto me, Prophesy upon
these bones, and say unto them, O ye dry bones, hear the word of the
Lord. Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones; Behold, I will cause
breath to enter into you, and ye shall live ... and ye shall know that I
am the Lord. So I prophesied as I was commanded: and as I prophesied,
there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together,
bone to his bone ... the sinews and the flesh came up upon them, and the
skin covered them above: but there was no breath in them. Then said he
unto me, Prophesy unto the wind, prophesy, son of man, and say to the
wind, Thus saith the Lord God; Come from the four winds, O breath, and
breathe upon these slain, that they may live. So I prophesied as he
commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood
up upon their feet, an exceeding great army. Then he said unto me, Son
of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel."
Is this not a description of Israel's history in modern days? Old
Judaism, seeing the marvels of the Renaissance, might well exclaim: "Who
hath begotten me these?" and many a pious mind must have reverted to the
ancient words of consolation: "I remember unto thee the kindness of thy
youth, the love of thy espousals, thy going after me in the wilderness,
through a land that is not sown."
In the face of so radical a transformation, Herder, poet and thinker,
reached the natural conclusion that "such occurrences, such a history
with all its concomitant and dependent circumstances, in brief, such a
nation cannot be a lying invention. Its development is the greatest poem
of all times, and still unfinished, will probably continue until every
possibility hidden in the soul life of humanity shall have obtained
expression."[77]
An unparalleled revival had begun; and in Germany, in which it made
itself felt as an effect of the French Revolution, it is coupled first
and foremost with the name of Moses Mendelssohn.
Society as conceived in these modern days is based upon men's relations
to their families, their disciples, and their friends. They are the
three elements that determine a man's usefulness as a social factor. Our
first interest, then, is to know Mendelssohn in his family.[78] Many
years were destined to elapse, after his coming to Berlin, before he was
to win a position of dignity. When, a single ducat in his pocket, he
first reached Berlin, the reader remembers, he was a pale-faced, fragile
boy. A contemporary of his relates: "In 1746 I came to Berlin, a
penniless little chap of fourteen, and in the Jewish school I met Moses
Mendelssohn. He grew fond of me, taught me reading and writing, and
often shared his scanty meals with me. I tried to show my gratitude by
doing him any small service in my power. Once he told me to fetch him a
German book from some place or other. Returning with the book in hand, I
was met by one of the trustees of the Jewish poor fund. He accosted me,
not very gently, with, 'What have you there? I venture to say a German
book!' Snatching it from me, and dragging me to the magistrate's, he
gave orders to expel me from the city. Mendelssohn, learning my fate,
did everything possible to bring about my return; but his efforts were
of no avail." It is interesting to know that it was the grandfather of
Herr von Bleichroeder who had to submit to so relentless a fate.
German language and German writing Mendelssohn acquired by his unaided
efforts. With the desultory assistance of a Dr. Kisch, a Jewish
physician, he learnt Latin from a book picked up at a second-hand book
stall. General culture was at that time an unknown quantity in the
possibilities of Berlin Jewish life. The schoolmasters, who were not
permitted to stay in the city more than three years, were for the most
part Poles. One Pole, Israel Moses, a fine thinker and mathematician,
banished from his native town, Samosz, on account of his devotion to
secular studies, lived with Aaron Gumpertz, the only one of the famous
family of court-Jews who had elected a better lot. From the latter,
Mendelssohn imbibed a taste for the sciences, and to him he owed some
direction in his studies; while in mathematics he was instructed by
Israel Samosz, at the time when the latter, busily engaged with his
great commentary on Yehuda Halevi's _Al-Chazari_, was living at the
house of the Itzig family, on the _Burgstrasse_, on the very spot where
the talented architect Hitzig, the grandson of Mendelssohn's
contemporary, built the magnificent Exchange. To enable himself to buy
books, Mendelssohn had to deny himself food. As soon as he had hoarded a
few _groschen_, he stealthily slunk to a dealer in second-hand books. In
this way he managed to possess himself of a Latin grammar and a wretched
lexicon. Difficulties did not exist for him; they vanished before his
industry and perseverance. In a short time he knew far more than
Gumpertz himself, who has become famous through his entreaty to Magister
Gottsched at Leipsic, whilom absolute monarch in German literature: "I
would most respectfully supplicate that it may please your worshipful
Highness to permit me to repair to Leipsic to pasture on the meadows of
learning under your Excellency's protecting wing."
After seven years of struggle and privation, Moses Mendelssohn became
tutor at the house of Isaac Bernhard, a silk manufacturer, and now began
better times. In spite of faithful performance of duties, he found
leisure to acquire a considerable stock of learning. He began to
frequent social gatherings, his friend Dr. Gumpertz introducing him to
people of culture, among others to some philosophers, members of the
Berlin Academy. What smoothed the way for him more than his sterling
character and his fine intellect was his good chess-playing. The Jews
have always been celebrated as chess-players, and since the twelfth
century a literature in Hebrew prose and verse has grown up about the
game. Mendelssohn in this respect, too, was the heir of the peculiar
gifts of his race.
In a little room two flights up in a house next to the Nicolai
churchyard lived one of the acquaintances made by Mendelssohn through
Dr. Gumpertz, a young newspaper writer--Gotthold Ephraim Lessing.
Lessing was at once strongly attracted by the young man's keen,
untrammelled mind. He foresaw that Mendelssohn would "become an honor to
his nation, provided his fellow-believers permit him to reach his
intellectual maturity. His honesty and his philosophic bent make me see
in him a second Spinoza, equal to the first in all but his errors."[79]
Through Lessing, Mendelssohn formed the acquaintance of Nicolai, and as
they were close neighbors, their friendship developed into intimacy.
Nicolai induced him to take up the study of Greek, and old Rector Damm
taught him.
At this time (1755), the first coffee-house for the use of an
association of about one hundred members, chiefly philosophers,
mathematicians, physicians, and booksellers, was opened in Berlin.
Mendelssohn, too, was admitted, making his true entrance into society,
and forming many attachments. One evening it was proposed at the club
that each of the members describe his own defects in verse; whereupon
Mendelssohn, who stuttered and was slightly hunchbacked, wrote:
"Great you call Demosthenes,
Stutt'ring orator of Greece;
Hunchbacked AEsop you deem wise;--
In your circle, I surmise,
I am doubly wise and great.
What in each was separate
You in me united find,--
Hump and heavy tongue combined."
Meanwhile his worldly affairs prospered; he had become bookkeeper in
Bernhard's business. His biographer Kayserling tells us that at this
period he was in a fair way to develop into "a true _bel esprit_"; he
took lessons on the piano, went to the theatre and to concerts, and
wrote poems. During the winter he was at his desk at the office from
eight in the morning until nine in the evening. In the summer of 1756,
his work was lightened; after two in the afternoon he was his own
master. The following year finds him comfortably established in a house
of his own with a garden, in which he could be found every evening at
six o'clock, Lessing and Nicolai often joining him. Besides, he had laid
by a little sum, which enabled him to help his friends, especially
Lessing, out of financial embarrassments. Business cares did, indeed,
bear heavily upon him, and his complaints are truly touching: "Like a
beast of burden laden down, I crawl through life, self-love
unfortunately whispering into my ear that nature had perhaps mapped out
a poet's career for me. But what can we do, my friends? Let us pity one
another, and be content. So long as love for science is not stifled
within us, we may hope on." Surely, his love for learning never
diminished. On the contrary, his zeal for philosophic studies grew, and
with it his reputation in the learned world of Berlin. The Jewish
thinker finally attracted the notice of Frederick the Great, whose poems
he had had the temerity to criticise adversely in the "Letters on
Literature" (_Litteraturbriefe_). He says in that famous criticism:[80]
"What a loss it has been for our mother-tongue that this prince has
given more time and effort to the French language. We should otherwise
possess a treasure which would arouse the envy of our neighbors." A
certain Herr von Justi, who had also incurred the unfavorable notice of
the _Litteraturbriefe_, used this review to revenge himself on
Mendelssohn. He wrote to the Prussian state-councillor: "A miserable
publication appears in Berlin, letters on recent literature, in which a
Jew, criticising court-preacher Cramer, uses irreverent language in
reference to Christianity, and in a bold review of _Poesies diverses_,
fails to pay the proper respect to his Majesty's sacred person." Soon an
interdict was issued against the _Litteraturbriefe_, and Mendelssohn was
summoned to appear before the attorney general Von Uhden. Nicolai has
given us an account of the interview between the high and mighty officer
of the state and the poor Jewish philosopher:
Attorney General: "Look here! How can you venture to write against
Christians?"
Mendelssohn: "When I bowl with Christians, I throw down all the pins
whenever I can."
Attorney General: "Do you dare mock at me? Do you know to whom you are
speaking?"
Mendelssohn: "Oh yes. I am in the presence of privy councillor and
attorney general Von Uhden, a just man."
Attorney General: "I ask again: What right have you to write against a
Christian, a court-preacher at that?"
Mendelssohn: "And I must repeat, truly without mockery, that when I play
at nine-pins with a Christian, even though he be a court-preacher, I
throw down all the pins, if I can. Bowling is a recreation for my body,
writing for my mind. Writers do as well as they can."
In this strain the conversation continued for some time. Another version
of the affair is that Mendelssohn was ordered to appear before the king
at Sanssouci on a certain Saturday. When he presented himself at the
gate of the palace, the officer in charge asked him how he happened to
have been honored with an invitation to come to court. Mendelssohn said:
"Oh, I am a juggler!" In point of fact, Frederick read the objectionable
review some time later, Venino translating it into French for him. It
was probably in consequence of this vexatious occurrence that
Mendelssohn made application for the privilege to be considered a
_Schutzjude_, that is, a Jew with rights of residence. The Marquis
d'Argens who lived with the king at Potsdam in the capacity of his
Majesty's philosopher-companion, earnestly supported his petition: "_Un
philosophe mauvais catholique supplie un philosophe mauvais protestant
de donner le privilege a un philosophe mauvais juif. Il y a trop de
philosophie dans tout ceci que la raison ne soit pas du cote de la
demande._" The privilege was accorded to Mendelssohn on November 26,
1763.
Being a _Schutzjude_, he could entertain the idea of marriage. Everybody
is familiar with the pretty anecdote charmingly told by Berthold
Auerbach. Mendelssohn's was a love-match. In April 1760, he undertook a
trip to Hamburg, and there became affianced to a "blue-eyed maiden,"
Fromet Gugenheim. The story goes that the girl shrank back startled at
Mendelssohn's proposal of marriage. She asked him: "Do you believe that
matches are made in heaven?" "Most assuredly," answered Mendelssohn;
"indeed, a singular thing happened in my own case. You know that,
according to a Talmud legend, at the birth of a child, the announcement
is made in heaven: So and so shall marry so and so. When I was born, my
future wife's name was called out, and I was told that she would
unfortunately be terribly humpbacked. 'Dear Lord,' said I, 'a deformed
girl easily gets embittered and hardened. A girl ought to be beautiful.
Dear Lord! Give me the hump, and let the girl be pretty, graceful,
pleasing to the eye.'"
His engagement lasted a whole year. He was naturally desirous to improve
his worldly position; but never did it occur to him to do so at the
expense of his immaculate character. Veitel Ephraim and his associates,
employed by Frederick the Great to debase the coin of Prussia, made him
brilliant offers in the hope of gaining him as their partner. He could
not be tempted, and entered into a binding engagement with Bernhard. His
married life was happy, he was sincerely in love with his wife, and she
became his faithful, devoted companion.
Six children were the offspring of their union: Abraham, Joseph, Nathan,
Dorothea, Henriette, and Recha. In Moses Mendelssohn's house, the one in
which these children grew up, the barriers between the learned world and
Berlin general society first fell. It was the rallying place of all
seeking enlightenment, of all doing battle in the cause of
enlightenment. The rearing of his children was a source of great anxiety
to Mendelssohn, whose means were limited. One day, shortly before his
death, Mendelssohn, walking up and down before his house in Spandauer
street, absorbed in meditation, was met by an acquaintance, who asked
him: "My dear Mr. Mendelssohn, what is the matter with you? You look so
troubled." "And so I am," he replied; "I am thinking what my children's
fate will be, when I am gone."
Moses Mendelssohn was wholly a son of his age, which perhaps explains
the charm of his personality. His faults as well as his fine traits
must be accounted for by the peculiarities of his generation. From this
point of view, we can understand his desire to have his daughters make a
wealthy match. On the other hand, he could not have known, and if he had
known, he could not have understood, that his daughters, touched by the
breath of a later time, had advanced far beyond his position. The Jews
of that day, particularly Jewish women, were seized by a mighty longing
for knowledge and culture. They studied French, read Voltaire, and drew
inspiration from the works of the English freethinkers. One of those
women says: "We all would have been pleased to be heroines of romance;
there was not one of us who did not rave over some hero or heroine of
fiction." At the head of this band of enthusiasts stood Dorothea
Mendelssohn, brilliant, captivating, and gifted with a vivid
imagination. She was the leader, the animating spirit of her companions.
To the reading-club organized by her efforts all the restless minds
belonged. In the private theatricals at the houses of rich Jews, she
filled the principal roles; and the mornings after her social triumphs
found her a most attentive listener to her father, who was in the habit
of holding lectures for her and her brother Joseph, afterward published
under the name _Morgenstunden_. And this was the girl whom her father
wished to see married at sixteen. When a rich Vienna banker was proposed
as a suitable match, he said, "Ah! a man like Eskeles would greatly
please my pride!" Dorothea did marry Simon Veit, a banker, a worthy
man, who in no way could satisfy the demands of her impetuous nature.
Yet her father believed her to be a happy wife. In her thirtieth year
she made the acquaintance, at the house of her friend Henriette Herz, of
a young man, five years her junior, who was destined to change the
course of her whole life. This was Friedrich von Schlegel, the chief of
the romantic movement. Dorothea Veit, not beautiful, fascinated him by
her brilliant wit. Under Schleiermacher's encouragement, the relation
between the two quickly assumed a serious aspect. But it was not until
long after her father's death that Dorothea abandoned her husband and
children, and became Schlegel's life-companion, first his mistress,
later his wife. As Gutzkow justly says, his novel "Lucinde" describes
the relation in which Schlegel "permitted himself to be discovered. Love
for Schlegel it was that consumed her, and led her to share with him a
thousand follies--Catholicism, Brahmin theosophy, absolutism, and the
Christian asceticism of which she was a devotee at the time of her
death." Neither distress, nor misery, nor care, nor sorrow could
alienate her affections. Finally, she became a bigoted Catholic, and in
Vienna, their last residence, the daughter of Moses Mendelssohn was
seen, a lighted taper in her hand, one of a Catholic procession wending
its way to St. Stephen's Cathedral.
The other daughter had a similar career. Henriette Mendelssohn filled a
position as governess first in Vienna, then in Paris. In the latter
city, her home was the meeting-place of the most brilliant men and
women. She, too, denied her father and her faith. Recha, the youngest
daughter, was the unhappy wife of a merchant of Strelitz. Later on she
supported herself by keeping a boarding-school at Altona. Nathan, the
youngest son, was a mechanician; Abraham, the second, the father of the
famous composer, Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, established with the
oldest, Joseph, a still flourishing banking-business. Abraham's children
and grandchildren all became converts to Christianity, but Moses and
Fromet died before their defection from the old faith. Fromet lived to
see the development of the passion for music which became hereditary in
the family. It is said that when, at the time of the popularity of
Schulz's "Athalia," one of the choruses, with the refrain _tout
l'univers_, was much sung by her children, the old lady cried out
irritably, "_Wie mies ist mir vor tout l'univers_" ("How sick I am of
'all the world!'").[81]
To say apologetically that the circumstances of the times produced such
feeling and action may be a partial defense of these women, but it is
not the truth. Henriette Mendelssohn's will is a characteristic
document. The introduction runs thus: "In these the last words I address
to my dear relatives, I express my gratitude for all their help and
affection, and also that they in no wise hindered me in the practice of
my religion. I have only myself to blame if the Lord God did not deem me
worthy to be the instrument for the conversion of all my brothers and
sisters to the Catholic Church, the only one endowed with saving grace.
May the Lord Jesus Christ grant my prayer, and bless them all with the
light of His countenance. Amen!" Such were the sentiments of Moses
Mendelssohn's daughters!
The sons inclined towards Protestantism. Abraham is reported to have
said that at first he was known as the son of his father, and later as
the father of his son. His wife was Leah Salomon, the sister of Salomon
Bartholdy, afterwards councillor of legation. His surname was really
only Salomon; Bartholdy he had assumed from the former owner of a garden
in Koepenikerstrasse on the Spree which he had bought. To him chiefly the
formal acceptance of Christianity by Abraham's family was due. When
Abraham hesitated about having his children baptized, Bartholdy wrote:
"You say that you owe it to your father's memory (not to abandon
Judaism). Do you think that you are committing a wrong in giving your
children a religion which you and they consider the better? In fact, you
would be paying a tribute to your father's efforts in behalf of true
enlightenment, and he would have acted for your children as you have
acted for them, perhaps for himself as I am acting for myself." This
certainly is the climax of frivolity! So it happened that one of
Mendelssohn's grandsons, Philip Veit, became a renowned Catholic church
painter, and another, Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, one of the most
celebrated of Protestant composers.
After his family, we are interested in the philosopher's disciples. They
are men of a type not better, but different. What in his children sprang
from impulsiveness and conviction, was due to levity and imitativeness
in his followers. Mendelssohn's co-workers and successors formed the
school of _Biurists_, that is, expounders. In his commentary on the
Pentateuch he was helped by Solomon Dubno, Herz Homberg, and Hartwig
Wessely. Solomon Dubno, the tutor of Mendelssohn's children, was a
learned Pole, devoted heart and soul to the work on the Pentateuch. His
literary vanity having been wounded, he secretly left Mendelssohn's
house, and could not be induced to renew his interest in the
undertaking. Herz Homberg, an Austrian, took his place as tutor. When
the children were grown, he went to Vienna, and there was made imperial
councillor, charged with the superintendence of the Jewish schools of
Galicia. It is a mistake to suppose that he used efforts to further the
study of the Talmud among Jews. From letters recently published, written
by and about him, it becomes evident that he was a common informer.
Mendelssohn, of course, was not aware of his true character. The noblest
of all was Naphtali Hartwig Wessely, a poet, a pure man, a sincere lover
of mankind.
The other prominent members of Mendelssohn's circle were: Isaac Euchel,
the "restorer of Hebrew prose," as he has been called, whose chief
purpose was the reform of the Jewish order of service and Jewish
pedagogic methods; Solomon Maimon, a wild fellow, who in his
autobiography tells his own misdeeds, by many of which Mendelssohn was
caused annoyance; Lazarus ben David, a modern Diogenes, the apostle of
Kantism; and, above all, David Friedlaender, an enthusiastic herald of
the new era, a zealous champion of modern culture, a pure, serious
character with high ethical ideals, whose aims, inspired though they
were by most exalted intentions, far overstepped the bounds set to him
as a Jew and the disciple of Mendelssohn. Kant's philosophy found many
ardent adherents among the Jews at that time. Beside the old there was
growing up a new generation which, having no obstructions placed in its
path after Mendelssohn's death, aggressively asserted its principles.
The first Jew after Mendelssohn to occupy a position of prominence in
the social world of Berlin was his pupil Marcus Herz, with the title
professor and aulic councillor, "praised as a physician, esteemed as a
philosopher, and extolled as a prodigy in the natural sciences. His
lectures on physics, delivered in his own house, were attended by
members of the highest aristocracy, even by royal personages."
In circles like his, the equalization of the Jews with the other
citizens was animatedly discussed, by partisans and opponents. In the
theatre-going public, a respectable minority, having once seen "Nathan
the Wise" enacted, protested against the appearance upon the stage of
the trade-Jew, speaking the sing-song, drawling German vulgarly supposed
to be peculiar to all Jews (_Mauscheln_). As early as 1771, Marcus Herz
had entered a vigorous protest against _mauscheln_, and at the first
performance of "The Merchant of Venice" on August 16, 1788, the famous
actor Fleck declaimed a prologue, composed by Ramler, in which he
disavowed any intention to "sow hatred against the Jews, the brethren in
faith of wise Mendelssohn," and asserted the sole purpose of the drama
to be the combating of folly and vice wherever they appear.