REFORM AND YOUNG ISRAEL.
Segregation of the Jews--Its Results--Secession and Obstinate
Conservatism--Israel Jacobson--His Reforms--The Hamburg
Reform Temple Union--Gotthold Salomon--Decay of Rabbinical
Authority--Eleazar Libermann--Aaron Chorin--Lazarus Riesser
--Party Strife--Isaac Bernays--His Writings--Bernays in
Hamburg--Mannheimer--His Congregation in Vienna--Berlin
Society for Culture--Edward Gans--His Baptism--Collapse of
the Society for Culture.
1818-1830 C. E.
The advance of the Jews in Germany had been completed in an amazingly
short time, as appears when we contrast Mendelssohn's reticence in
touching upon religious and political conditions in Christendom with
the boldness of Börne and Heine, who displayed them in their naked
form. And mark the progress made in France! Here the Jews had become
men, dauntlessly encountering every opponent, and ready to avenge
with the sword insulting remarks on their origin. Judaism, however,
was less rapid in casting off servile forms than its followers. For
nearly two thousand years it had struggled for existence against every
new people and every new tendency which appeared on the stage of
history. With Greeks and Romans, Parthians and Neo-Persians, Goths and
Slavonic tribes, with Arabs and mediæval knights in armor, with monks
of every order and fanatic Lutherans, it had maintained ever-recurring
contests, and had of necessity become covered with disfiguring scars
and foul dust. To defend itself against the assaults of so many hostile
powers and during so long a period, Judaism had been compelled to
surround itself with an impenetrable coat of mail, to isolate itself
completely, or withdraw into a shrine of its own, every access to which
was carefully barricaded. So accustomed had the Jews become to their
heavy armor, that it seemed to have grown into their very being; nor
could it be discarded so long as new battles were imminent. Left to
its own resources, and excluded from the external world, especially
since the expulsion of its members from Spain and Portugal, and their
simultaneous banishment from many German districts, Judaism had created
a dreamland for itself. It had admitted magical formulas into its world
of thought and fancy to distract the minds of its adherents from pangs
of torture, so that they might endure them with greater ease, or forget
them entirely. Suddenly its sons were awakened from their dreams by
the dazzling sunlight, and beheld the real world, to which they were
utter strangers. At first they closed their eyes the tighter, in order
to retain the pleasant dream-pictures. In this new age, and in the new
conditions, they could not at once find their proper level, and they
feared that the altered state of affairs was a mere stratagem, a novel
method of warfare in disguise, which their ancient enemies expected to
use against Judaism.
During its long journey through the world, and its acquaintance with
many nations, Judaism, in spite of its exclusiveness, had admitted
various perverse ideas, which became as thoroughly a part of itself, as
if derived from the original stock. Memory had been weakened through
persecution and martyrdom; the power of thought had also suffered
somewhat through daily increasing afflictions. At first it was too
distracted to apply tests, to distinguish foreign and unfit elements
from native and essential parts and remove them. Among the Jews in
Germany, England, and France, the adoption of the uncultivated Polish
manner had conferred a barbarous aspect upon Judaism, and among the
Portuguese and Italian Jews, owing to Isaac Lurya and Chayim Vital, it
had assumed a Kabbalistic form. This disfigurement of Judaism existing
among the Portuguese along with external decorum, and its neglected
condition in Polish and German communities, affected every element
of religious life--divine service, sermons, marriages, interments,
in short, every ceremonial, especially those of a public nature. The
official representatives and expounders of Judaism, the rabbis and
leaders of divine service, were repulsive, either semi-barbarians or
visionaries. The foreign additions and excrescences, the fungous growth
attached to the original trunk, were regarded by these leaders of
Judaism as integral elements. The times had not yet matured men, who,
by a delicate perception of the inner kernel of Judaism (as contained
in the Bible and the Talmud), by wide vision, and clear insight, could
recognize the abuses that had accumulated in the course of time, and
separate them from the essential parts. To remove these objectionable
excrescences gradually, and with a gentle hand, without giving offense,
required profound understanding. A necessary reform, not prompted by
external considerations, had been suggested several centuries earlier
by far-sighted men; but the modern generation had no knowledge thereof.
Neither was there any adequate representative body in the Jewish world.
There was, to be sure, an organization, possessing, or in a position
easily to obtain, a sort of official character and authority, namely,
the French Synhedrion and Consistory. But the chiefs, David Sinzheim
and Abraham di Cologna, had not the needful discernment to accomplish
the ennoblement and rejuvenescence of Judaism. Sinzheim was only an
orthodox Talmudist, and Di Cologna an interesting preacher. The right
men were wanting to undertake and promote this much-needed reform,
not of the religion itself--for neither the leaders nor the rank
and file had lost any degree of morality through the deterioration of
Judaism--but of its exterior, to beautify it and remove excrescences.
No men being forthcoming, time effected the changes, and so quarrels
and contentions were produced. It was destined to be no easy work for
Judaism to cast its slough.
The changes in Judaism, like those in the Jews, began in Germany. To
the German Jews (because Mendelssohn had come from their midst) a
task was allotted similar to that achieved in earlier times by the
Alexandrian and Spanish, and in part by the Provençal Jews, that of
reconciling Judaism with culture. But when these efforts commenced,
the situation was already one of great confusion, and the method by
which they were conducted only intensified the difficulties. During
the struggles of the German Jews to secure emancipation, when every
step towards freedom was accomplished only after the most strenuous
exertions, when each advance was met with scorn and neglect, when they
were continually being hurled back into their humiliated condition and
reminded of their despised state, two equally unpleasant phenomena
manifested themselves. Those who, improved by culture and education,
swam with the stream, estranged themselves from Judaism, disowned all
connection with its official acts, and despised it as the obstacle to
their civil or social advancement. To them Judaism appeared as a mummy,
a petrifaction, or a specter, which restlessly and aimlessly flitted
through the centuries, a picture of grief beyond help. Only a few of
this educated class, like Heine in his bright moments, when not led
astray by wantonness, were clear-sighted enough to recognize life in
this mummy, capable some day of bursting its cerements and engaging in
combat with its enemies. On the other hand, the majority of the Jews,
who still bore in their hearts deep love for the wrinkled mother of
all religions, clung to those unessential forms to which from youth
they had been accustomed, because they perceived the treachery of the
opposite party, and did not wish to be classed amongst the betrayers of
Judaism. "They loved stones, and treasured dust." Theirs was no longer
the innocent piety of bygone days which had no opposition to contend
with, but an active, passionate feeling. The representatives of the
old school became anxious and suspicious about the growing weakness of
religious feeling, the loosening of all bonds of union, the manifest
symptoms of apostasy, and the contempt for their origin. Judaism seemed
a gigantic structure composed of tiny cubes, supporting each other and
the whole. They feared the downfall of the whole edifice, if a single
support became loose. They had no confidence in the permanence of the
structure, for whose maintenance they were ready to sacrifice their
lives. They would give up not even the use of their miserable jargon,
defiant of every grammatical law, in the ritual, nor their indecorous
habits, nor any particular of their disorderly system. Every sign of
yielding, any departure from the old order, appeared to them an act of
treachery to Judaism.
It seemed impossible to find a means of uniting these opposites.
Nevertheless, an attempt was made, but in a rough, unskillful manner,
the result being that the advance of Judaism was retarded for a
considerable time. The first to undertake some sort of reform was
Israel Jacobson. He was especially fitted for the leadership of a
new party by his attachment to his faith, his admiration for beauty
and external qualities, his activity, wealth, and high position.
Immediately after the Westphalian Consistory had been appointed, and
he had been placed at its head, he came forward with innovations of a
two-fold nature. From the public service in the synagogue connected
with the newly-erected school in Cassel, he removed all objectionable
and noisy features, especially the sing-song reading so much in use.
He naturally insisted upon the delivery of sermons in German. He also
introduced new forms and methods borrowed from the Church, such as
German as well as Hebrew prayers, insipid German songs by the side of
the psalms pregnant with thought, and the ceremony of confessing the
faith (Confirmation) for half-grown boys and girls--an idea without
meaning in Judaism.
Jacobson exercised such power over his associates in the Westphalian
Consistory, that they unresistingly accepted these innovations. He
then proceeded to introduce his reforms into all the communities of
Westphalia, with the threat that he would have such synagogues as
refused to adopt his regulations closed. This compulsion, however,
aroused the feelings of the orthodox party; the introduction of the
German language into divine service being particularly objectionable
to the majority. A rabbi of mild temperament, Samuel Eger of Brunswick
(died 1842), had the courage to protest against the arbitrary conduct
of the president of the consistory. He prophetically expressed the
conviction, that by employing German prayers and hymns the Hebrew
language would fall into disuse, and finally die out, and the bond
uniting the Jews dispersed throughout the world would thereby be
relaxed. Jacobson appears to have paid no heed to these warnings
and signs of opposition. The dissatisfied Jews must have lodged
complaints about him and his new schemes with King Jerome, for the
king reprimanded him for his autocratic interference in matters of
conscience and his ardor for reform.
Jacobson's glory ended with the speedy downfall of the Westphalian
kingdom. Having moved to Berlin, he furnished a room in his house as
a synagogue (1815), although he had formerly been opposed to private
synagogues, and introduced his reformed service with German prayers,
songs, and a choir. At first there was no room for an organ. Afterwards
Jacob Beer, the banker, the father of Meyer Beer, provided a large
chamber (1817), where an organ could be put up. After the victory of
the Germans over Napoleon, it became the fashion to be religious, and
it infected Jews who had previously not experienced the slightest
necessity for devotional exercises, and had been quite indifferent
to religious ceremonial. Such sentimentalists, who had no regard
for Judaism, attended the services of Jacobson, in order to "edify
themselves" and "be devout," as the new phrases ran. The "Society of
Friends" furnished members. This was the origin of a Reform party,
a tiny community within the community, which however, as could be
easily foreseen, had a future, owing to the energy displayed at the
commencement and the repulsive form of the ordinary divine service.
The great attraction in the new form of service was the German sermon,
which Jacobson usually delivered. His addresses exercised great power,
because the so-called "homiletic discourses" of the rabbis and the
Polish or Moravian itinerant preachers, were dull and unattractive.
But the private synagogue in Berlin, owing to complaints made by some
of the orthodox party, was closed by the Prussian government. The king
of Prussia, Frederick William III, was averse to all innovations, even
in Jewish circles, and hated them as being revolutionary plots. A
young preacher from the school of Jacobson thereupon betook himself to
Hamburg, having been invited to conduct a free school established by
certain rich Jews. Here he set on foot the plan of erecting a reform
temple on the model of Jacobson's.
This young minister, Kley, had brought from Jacobson's synagogue a
complete scheme, which included German hymns and prayers, sermons,
and the organ. He composed a so-called "religious song-book," in
imitation of the Protestant liturgy, an empty and feeble work, suited
only to a race of children, ignorant of the psalms, the pattern sources
of religious devotion. But there were men in Hamburg who, although
they approved of modern ideas, were yet unwilling to break entirely
with Judaism and its past, and who decidedly objected to the omission
of Hebrew in their prayers. The chiefs of this movement were M. J.
Bresselau, himself a good Hebrew stylist, and Sæckel Fränkel (died
in Hamburg, 1833), likewise a Hebrew scholar, who had retranslated
several of the Apocryphal books into the sacred language. These two
men compiled a selection from the Hebrew prayers in use, in order to
amalgamate them with the newly-adopted German songs and prayers, a
discordant medley in contents and form, which somewhat called to mind
a friendly compromise among contending parties. About fifty families
joined, and thus arose the Reform Temple Union in Hamburg. This
mongrel birth was ushered into the world without love and enthusiasm.
Its promoters were so prosaic that the anniversary of the battle of
Leipsic was chosen for the day of the consecration of the Temple
(October 18, 1818). The preacher Kley, in order to have ample material
for a discourse, had to use as a starting point the German wars of
freedom, which had caused the Jews in Germany to retrograde rather
than to advance. Young maidens sang hymns with the young men, in order
to create the sensation which the cause itself could not awaken, and
this gave great offense. Kley could not have kept the Temple community
together for long, had not the Templars, as they were called, found an
efficient preacher in Gotthold Salomon, of Dessau (died 1862), who was
well acquainted with biblical and Jewish literature, and knew how to
conceal the bareness of the new movement. On the one hand, he invested
the Temple with Protestant attributes, and on the other, by reason of
his conceit and ostentation, he gave it an aggressive character. With
Salomon the influence of the preacher among the German Jews commenced;
the pulpit took the place of the school, and from it there often
resounded the hollow phrases which conceal thought, or the lack of
thought. The Temple Union had officially given up the belief in the
Messiah, without exactly defining what position Judaism was to assume
with reference to Christianity. Some of the zealous reformers meditated
a complete rupture, and the refusal to contribute to the communal funds.
The originators and leaders were filled with the delusive idea, which
at first appeared justifiable, that the Temple, through its modern
and attractive form of service, would bring back to the fold those
alienated from Judaism. They hoped that the less stringent religious
forms would overcome the dislike felt by worldly men against everything
Jewish. In a few instances those who had fallen away from Judaism were
restrained from overstepping the threshold into the Church, but it was
not a remedy with permanent effect. Nevertheless, the achievements
of the Hamburg Temple, commonplace though its origin was, are not to
be underrated. At one stroke, without much hesitation, it banished
the rubbish of centuries from the synagogue, swept away with youthful
impetuosity the holy cobwebs which no one had ventured to touch, and
awakened a taste for a well-regulated service, for decorous behavior at
divine worship, and for order and simplicity. The injury inflicted on
Judaism by the aping of foreign customs, and the dilution of its own
strength, cannot be altogether attributed to it.
Naturally the establishment of the Hamburg Temple produced a split in
the Jewish world. Hitherto there had existed only the "old-fashioned"
and the "new-fashioned" people, as they termed each other, but no
distinct sects possessing a banner, a password, and a confession of
faith. Not even the old-fashioned orthodox section constituted a
definite party. For, although the adherents of the past, who would
not swerve a hair's breadth from former practices, were so numerous,
that even in Hamburg they might have suppressed the innovators if they
had chosen, they did not act as a body. Only the faint remonstrance
of single individuals was heard lamenting the ruin of Judaism through
its betrayers, and these oft-repeated wailings were pitiful. The old
party had no chiefs, no leaders; respect for the rabbis had vanished
in a single generation. The wretched dispute for and against Jonathan
Eibeschütz, and the satires of Hebrew writers of the period of the
Measfim, had completely undermined their authority. In the larger
German congregations the empty rabbinical chairs were permitted to
remain untenanted. They no longer wished to have rabbis from Poland,
because these could not speak the language of the land, and in Germany
there were no great rabbis of recognized authority. Berlin set the
example, which was followed by the community of Prague, after the
death of the wise Ezekiel Landau, by Hamburg after the retirement of
the zealot Raphael Cohen, and by Frankfort-on-the-Main after the death
of the ultra-orthodox (Chassidic) Pinchas Hurwitz. The assistants
(Dayanim) of the rabbis administered the rabbinical office--hybrid
creatures, too dependent to have an opinion of their own, and too weak
to oppose the demands of reckless leaders of communities.
As a result of the disregard in which the rabbis were held, the
Talmudical schools fell into decay. Gifted Jewish youths, whose
education formerly had begun with the Talmud, preferred to attend the
gymnasiums and universities, and learned to despise the Talmud and
Judaism. The most famous Talmudical academies in Prague, Frankfort,
Altona and Hamburg, Fürth, Metz, and Halberstadt, which had boasted
at least several hundred pupils (Bachurim), were gradually closed.
This desolation spread to Poland, as the Talmud students no longer
had hope of finding employment in Germany and France. They still made
their way to Germany, but with the intention of studying science
(Chochmoth), or if they remained at home, they devoted themselves to
the ensnaring mysticism of Neo-Chassidism. There were but four rabbis
of the younger generation who, on account of their profound knowledge
of the Talmud and their pure, patriarchal character, enjoyed widespread
authority: Mordecai Benet, in Nikolsburg, Jacob Lissa, Akiba Eger,
and his son-in-law, Moses Sofer, of Frankfort-on-the-Main. These four
rabbis, by their ingenious methods, kept alive the zeal for Talmudical
study. Akiba Eger, owing to his astoundingly ingenious mind and high
virtues--among which modesty was preëminent--enjoyed almost
divine reverence from the thousands of disciples who came from his
academies in Friedland and Posen. He was a quiet man, who never took
the initiative, and was averse to aggressive opposition. Moses Sofer,
on the other hand, was a fanatical zealot and an active heretic-hunter.
He possessed courage and determination which disregarded consequences.
He might have been a useful leader, but, like his companions, he was
at too great a distance from the scene of action, to take part in
the contest, or even to set up a standard. These rabbis had not the
slightest conception of the new tendency which the times and the Jews
had developed, and were therefore ignorant of the importance of the
cause which they represented. They did not know the enemy whom they
attacked, or despised him too much to be dangerous opponents. When a
serious question or a critical situation arose, they were at a loss
what to do, brought out their old rusty weapons, and damaged their
cause by revealing its weakness. This awkwardness created an impression
of feebleness and decrepitude. Thus the old orthodox party (as their
opponents, borrowing the name from Church phraseology, termed them),
or conservatives, were without a head, without a banner or a plan,
utterly without unanimity or discipline, without consciousness of their
own strength. They especially lacked eloquence, the indispensable
means by which public opinion is influenced and ruled, and its follies
and hollow emptiness are made apparent. Their utter want of education
avenged itself bitterly upon the rigidly pious party.
On the other hand, the opposing section, the ardent innovators, the
party of Jacobson, possessed what was wanting in the others: a daring
leader, unity, and especially a wealth of passwords and phrases, such
as, "spirit of the times, enlightenment," by which the thoughtless
are captivated. Their victory and ultimate success could be foreseen.
They had confidence and the courage of youth, were bold, and not
over-particular as to the means employed. Jacobson, their chief, knew
how to pursue and achieve an end, and how to utilize the means at his
disposal. He saw that the Hamburg Temple would encounter difficulties,
and would be condemned as heretical by the old rabbis. Jacobson
was in correspondence with the founders, and knew that the Senate,
instigated by the orthodox party, would, like the king of Prussia,
forbid innovations. He also saw that many of the Hamburg Templars were
too lukewarm to struggle against great difficulties. For this reason
he strove to obtain in advance the ratification of the Temple ritual.
Among the rabbis of Germany he could find no voice of approval for the
new order of service. He, therefore, connected himself--a fact which
throws no favorable light upon the cause--with a base adventurer,
who, it appears, was bribed to help him. Eleazar Libermann from
Austria, a gambler, became his apostle of reform. To characterize
the man, it suffices to note that he afterwards was baptized. At
the bidding of the reformers, Libermann traveled in Austria. From
him they learned that in Hungary and Italy there were rabbis or
would-be rabbis, willing to pronounce a favorable opinion upon the new
ritual. Jacobson addressed his inquiries to them, and his wishes were
fulfilled. The first who allowed himself to be used by Libermann was
Aaron Chorin (from Chorin), rabbi in Arad, Hungary, a tedious talker
of superficial culture and mediocre Talmudical scholarship, who was
capable of repeating absurdities in three languages--in Hebrew, German,
and the Jewish-German jargon. He was devoted to the new movement
without clearly understanding its bearings. Two Italian rabbis of low
attainments also spoke in favor of the innovations. The opinions of
all these men--not one of whom was of wholly sound mind--showed that
the introduction of the organ was not against Rabbinical law. Chorin
alone produced authorities in favor of the other reforms, and for
German prayers. Libermann collated these opinions, strengthened them
by his own pretended learning, adding the falsehood that not only all
the rabbis of Leghorn, but even those of Jerusalem, had declared it
permissible to use the organ in Jewish divine service. These opinions,
which were printed and scattered broadcast, were intended to exonerate
the Hamburg Reform Temple from blame at its very birth, and to remove
the blot of illegitimacy which, as might have been foreseen, the rabbis
of the old school would affix to it.
Whilst the reformers energetically tried to forestall every obstacle,
the conservatives remained idle, and allowed the dangers which
threatened their convictions to gather unnoticed. As already observed,
Hamburg had at this time no rabbi at its head, but a college of three
assistants (Dayanim) of little repute. Although these official
representatives of Judaism had almost the entire Hamburg community to
support them, they opposed the innovations with little vigor. Shortly
after the opening of the Temple, the college ordered a feebly-written
proclamation to be put up in the synagogues (October 26, 1818),
that the new prayer-book should not be used by Israelites of pious
sentiments, because contrary to usage essential passages had been
omitted or altered. But this declaration lost its effect, when the lay
heads of the community--whose assistance the Dayanim had not been
able to win--took it down, and rebuked the authors, because "they
had been guilty of intolerable presumption." The lay heads, at the
recommendation of the college, afterwards invited the leaders of the
Temple (November 8th) to a meeting, and requested them to discontinue
the use of the prayer-book, as it did not agree with the ritual
accepted by all Jewish communities. The Templars, however, laughed this
demand to scorn.
The Temple Union unexpectedly received moral support from a person
having great influence in Hamburg. Lazarus Riesser, the father of the
indefatigable champion for the emancipation of the Jews in Germany, had
always been reckoned one of the old orthodox party. As the son-in-law
of Rabbi Raphael Cohen and his right hand, he was absorbed in the
Talmud. He had published a Hebrew life of Raphael Cohen, in which he
eulogized not only the author, but also his rabbinical views, and
declared himself his faithful follower. How astonished, therefore, were
the Hamburg Jews of both parties when a letter from Riesser suddenly
appeared, entitled "To my Co-religionists in Hamburg" (the beginning
of 1819), applauding the Temple innovations, and sharply rebuking
the rabbinical college which had opposed them! He frankly called the
opponents "sanctimonious hypocrites" who "nourish contentions in
Israel, and bar the way of the sons desirous of returning to the favor
of their father." It appears that he wished to wreak a petty revenge
upon the members of the rabbinical college of Hamburg, by whom he
perhaps thought himself kept in the background.
The orthodox party in Hamburg, who imagined that no rabbi in the whole
of Europe would approve of the reforms, were bitterly disappointed;
owing to the activity of Jacobson and Libermann, the Jewish public
discovered that several rabbis in various districts upheld them. The
old rabbis were so listless and indolent in the matter, that they
had to be addressed twice, before they pronounced judgment against
the Temple. In the first excitement the Hamburg rabbis had unwisely
condemned the innocent and commendable customs which were introduced
into the Temple, such as the Portuguese pronunciation of Hebrew, the
omission of intoning in reading from the Bible. To rectify these
mistakes, they afterwards limited their complaints to three points--the
abridgment of the prayers, especially with reference to the omission
of Messianic passages, prayers in German, and the use of the organ.
To this programme the agreement of numerous distinguished rabbis and
rabbinates was at length secured; four in Germany (Fürth, Mayence,
Breslau, and Hanau), five in Italy (Trieste, Modena, Padua, Mantua,
and Leghorn), three in Prussian Poland (Posen, Lissa, and Rawitz), and
two in Moravia (Nikolsburg and Trietsch). Moses Sofer in Presburg,
the German rabbi in Amsterdam, and the French chief rabbis of the
consistory of Wintzenheim, also signed the document. They all declared
the reforms in the Temple to be distinctly heterodox. Libermann's
falsehoods now became apparent, as the Leghorn rabbinate had not given
its assent to the use of the organ. Samun, a would-be rabbi of Leghorn,
and Chorin of Arad, probably under moral compulsion, revoked their
former testimonials. The most zealous in their denunciations of the
Temple were Sofer of Presburg and Benet of Nikolsburg, who declared the
slightest deviation from ancient usages as heresy. But the impression
which the authors of this document had hoped for did not follow. It
had been delayed too long, more than seven months having elapsed
before sentence of heresy was promulgated; and meantime the Temple
Union had established itself. Eighteen antagonistic rabbinates (in
all forty rabbis) did not seem many; and the most eminent of all, the
Central Consistory of France, had remained silent. The signers of the
protest asserted that more opinions had been received; but this belated
statement was of no avail. The arguments adduced by the rabbis against
the Temple service were for the most part void, some were thoroughly
childish. The letter of the law spoke against them. The diversity of
opinions among rabbinical authorities of various ages and countries,
always made it possible to find reasons for and against any question.
This weakness was mercilessly exposed by M. J. Bresselau, one of the
originators of the Hamburg reform. In a Hebrew letter (1819) written in
beautiful Hebrew style and with such skillful manipulation of biblical
verses, that it seemed as though the prophets and psalmists themselves
were scourging the delusions of the obtuse rabbis, Bresselau treated
them now as ignorant boys, now as false prophets, and especially as
disturbers of the peace. Every sentence in this seemingly earnest
but bitingly satirical epistle was a dagger-thrust against the
old perversions and their defenders. The reformers also obtained
reinforcement from Poland. The old-fashioned party, on the other hand,
were unable to present a single Hebrew writer to defend their cause.
Even the Hebrew style used in the document of the opposing rabbis
was rugged and coarse. The Dayanim of Hamburg, indeed, caused the
testimonial to be in part translated into German--a concession that
betrayed the weakness of their cause--but the German version was not
calculated to create a good impression. For this they had to employ
Shalom Cohen, a turn-coat, who had formerly belonged to the ranks of
the reformers. In short, the conservatives were unfortunate, because
they were unskillful and imprudent.
It also happened that the Temple quarrel took place in the year when
the "Hep, hep!" cry was being raised, and Hamburg also participated
in it. The wealthy and worldly Jews were thereby restricted to the
society of their own people, and actively supported the banner that had
been unfurled. The Jewish merchants of Hamburg, members of the Temple
Union, who were accustomed to attend the fair at Leipsic during the
chief festivals in the spring and autumn, joined some Berlin merchants
of similar opinions, and established a branch synagogue (September 20,
1820). Meyerbeer composed the songs for the opening ceremony. They
appointed a so-called fair-preacher (Messprediger), Jacob Auerbach,
and from this gathering-place of Jews from various countries, the
innovations spread to a wider circle. The Hamburg reforms thus were
adopted in some parts; and in other communities, such as those of
Carlsruhe, Königsberg, and Breslau, where the entire programme was
not carried out, at least the rite of confirmation, imitated from the
Church, was introduced.
The first attempt to set up an opposing party, so as to dam the
overflowing stream of reform, and make it subside into a quiet bed,
commenced on account of the Temple innovations. This opposing party
was established by a man who had himself partially forsaken rabbinical
Judaism, but who strove to strengthen and vindicate it, under the
correct impression that development must take place upon its own
soil, with due regard to historical conditions, and along its peculiar
lines, and especially without aping foreign Church forms. Isaac
Bernays (born at Mayence, 1792; died at Hamburg, 1849) was the man who
intelligently opposed the prevailing flaccidity of semi-enlightened
reform and thought. In South Germany, in contradistinction to North
Germany with its love for formal statements of doctrines, which never
rose beyond the commonplaces of rationalism, a mystic philosophical
school had been established, which promoted visionary notions. In all
things, the smallest and the greatest, in nature and history, in the
grouping of things, in numbers, colors, and names, this philosophy
beheld a system, germs of ideas, the shattered ruins of a gigantic
mirror reflecting fundamental thoughts in huge size. Isaac Bernays
belonged to this school. To his vision Judaism in its literature and
historical progress revealed itself half unveiled. Bernays' mind, with
its overflowing wealth of ideas, found in all phenomena the harmonious
systemization and development of a fundamental thought, which to
manifest all its latent possibilities permeated passing events and
historical achievements, and which had developed from the beginning
of creation to the most recent fact. Bernays, much profounder than
Mendelssohn, was the first to recognize the important rôle of Judaism
in the history of the world, and at a glance to measure the range of
its literature. His fault was, perhaps, that he was too rich in ideas,
that therefore he sought out and discovered too much, and was not equal
to the task of clothing his ideas in fitting form and language. From
his superior altitude he looked with contemptuous pity upon the poverty
of thought of Jewish reformers, who desired to contract and confine the
giant spirit of Judaism (of which they had no conception) within the
narrow bounds of a catechism for big and little children. In his eyes
the followers of Friedländer were the embodiment of insipidity and
narrowness. They impressed Bernays with the idea of a rabble who dwell
in a Pyramid, and fit it up for petty household purposes.
"They, the disciples of Mendelssohn, ashamed of their
antiquity, prefer, as foundlings of the present day, wildly
to overleap the unfashionable limits of the Law, instead of
listening in the school of their race, to hear what God has
brought about at the present day."
The train of thought by which Bernays reconstructed Judaism in his
mind from its original sources and history, is little known to us.
He preferred oral to written instruction, and was averse to put
his thoughts on paper. The "Biblical Orient," which is ascribed to
him, is, so to speak, only the foundation of the vestibule of a
reverence-inspiring temple. This work, odd as it was in form, is
distinguished for its depth and originality; it starts with the idea,
that to Judaism is allotted the task of bringing back to God men
created in His image, and that the Jewish people was to serve as a type
to mankind, showing how the lost likeness to God may be regained. The
"Biblical Orient" endeavored to establish a more thorough comprehension
of the Bible than had been effected by the Mendelssohnian school.
They had regarded it merely from its poetical side, and had failed
to see that it portrays the collision between two views of life.
Bernays believed that his criticism dethroned the Mendelssohn school,
together with its founder; for Mendelssohn himself, by his superficial
treatment of Hebrew literature, had been the first to contribute to the
enervation of Judaism.
According to the opinion of Bernays, the Hebrew cult differed from that
of the heathen, and was intended to be a contrast. Idolatry expressed
itself in plastic, Judaism in ritual, symbolism. Therefore the very
aspect of Judaism which the reformers desired to abolish as unfitting
and unworthy, should be preserved. Everything which in the course
of Jewish history had been assimilated and developed, according to
Bernays, ought to have a place assigned to it, being a necessary part
of the whole,--even Talmudism and the Kabbala.
This book contains many immature and unpolished ideas, much that
borders on the ridiculous. But if the author only succeeded in
awakening the idea that Judaism has an historical mission as an apostle
to the nations, it should suffice to procure for him a place of honor
in the records of Jewish history. Not that he could claim this as a
new discovery, for the text-book of Judaism plainly points to it. It
is the essence of the messages proclaimed by the prophets. It has
been verified by history, that European and Asiatic nations have been
delivered from their darkness by the light that came from Judaism. But
the accumulated sufferings of the Jews, and the servile form assumed by
Judaism, had caused this fact to be so entirely forgotten, that its own
sons had no idea thereof. The merit of the man who again called it to
mind is therefore of no mean degree.
The extraordinary talents and original ideas of Bernays directed the
attention of Jewish society to him. Afterwards, it is true, he denied
the authorship of the "Biblical Orient"; but if he did not actually
compose it, he might have done so, for it is flesh of his flesh, or
spirit of his spirit.
The Hamburg community, which sorely needed a power to withstand the
Temple Union, in consequence of his renown chose Bernays for their
spiritual guide. It was a good move on their part, and bore important
results. The rabbis of the old school were ill prepared for the contest
between two justifiable principles, the preservation of Judaism in its
peculiar manifestations, and the assimilation of European culture by
the Jews. Their weapons had grown rusty, and injured the owners more
than their opponents. Fresh forces were therefore required in their
cause--men cognizant of the wants of the age, who could utilize them
for the honor and purification of Judaism. The appointment of Bernays
to the Hamburg rabbinate (November, 1821) created a stir: he was the
first rabbi with a well-ordered secular education. It was a sign of
the times that he dispensed with the title of rabbi and preferred to
be called Chacham, as was customary among the Portuguese Jews: he
did not wish the despised title of rabbi to be a hindrance to his
activity. True to his aversion for slavish imitation, he eschewed all
clerical mummery in costume and gestures, to which the reform preachers
attached great importance in the pulpit. Bernays did not claim to be
the guardian of souls, only the teacher of his congregation. He also
delivered sermons, but the contents, form, and other details differed
entirely from those introduced by the Jacobson school. Owing to his
peculiar mode of thought, his addresses were not understood by the
multitude; but thoughtful hearers at least conceded to him the merit
of originality, which contrasted favorably with the insipidity of the
Temple preachers. When Heine, who at this time was still interested
practically in Judaism, was staying in Hamburg, he was induced to hear
Bernays' sermons, and to compare them with those of other preachers.
Heine understood the method and form of his thoughts, and the opinion
of the lyrical satirist ran as follows:
"I have heard Bernays preach ..., none of the Jews understand
him, he desires nothing for himself, and will never play any
other part; but he is a man of mind, and has more life in him
than Kley, Salomon, and Auerbach I and II."
By unobtrusive work, Bernays succeeded in gaining the respect, not
only of the community, but also of the rigidly pious party elsewhere.
Their suspicious natures found nothing to blame in the religious
conduct of the Chacham. The changes that he introduced, in reality
reforms, met with approval and imitation in orthodox congregations.
By his penetration and his great erudition he exercised deep influence
over the rising generation, to whom he opened up the rich treasures
of Jewish literature, then but little known. He thereby imbued his
disciples with joyous attachment to Judaism. As already stated, he did
not care for writing. If his courage had kept pace with his knowledge
and wealth of ideas, his activity would have had greater influence on
modern Jewish history.
In another quarter, an equally beneficent and elevating, though
differently constituted, personality, was at work. Isaac Noah
Mannheimer (born at Copenhagen, 1793; died at Vienna, 1864), originally
a disciple of the school of Jacobson, softened its crudities, and so
caused the offensive alterations in the divine service to be received
favorably; he struck the right note when making improvements. He may
justly be considered the incarnation of Jewish refinement--every inch
a man. In him the essential elements of peculiarly Jewish culture
were harmoniously combined with the attractive forms of European
civilization; indeed, in every respect his was a perfectly moulded
nature. Gifted with genial humor and wit, enthusiasm and discretion,
leading an ideal life, and possessing a sure practical instinct,
endowed with poetic talents and sober thought, with childlike
tenderness and cutting satire, great eloquence and earnest vigor, deep
love of Judaism and delight in modern ideas--he combined these varied
characteristics in the happiest manner. These brilliant qualities,
together with his nobility of soul and disinterestedness, devotion to
his convictions, and conscientiousness in all official duties, his
delicacy of feeling, tact, aversion to vulgarity and forbearance with
the vulgar--swiftly captivated all hearts, attracted the noble-minded,
and even filled the unworthy with respect, and thus lightened his
labors. Born and bred under the mild Danish government, which at an
early date had granted equal rights to Jews, nor, like other states,
withdrew or abridged them when circumstances changed, Mannheimer
from childhood learned to hold his head high, and to represent his
co-religionists and utter his convictions without fear even in a
country where a servile conception of the position of burgesses,
peasants, and especially of the Jews, long prevailed. Mannheimer did
not possess original ideas or deep knowledge of Jewish literature; but
he was powerfully swayed by his own convictions, which he cherished
and disseminated, not hiding them away as buried treasures. This man
of words and action was placed by destiny in a situation, where his
peculiar nature and special gifts could find scope, and ennoble wide
circles. Everyone cognizant of the state of affairs then prevailing
in Austria, and the extent to which the Austrian Jews have since
progressed, must confess that Mannheimer was providentially fitted
for his position in the Austrian capital, on the boundary-line of
semi-barbarous countries, to raise the Jews of those lands from the
moral degeneracy into which they had been plunged as much by Joseph
II's benevolent despotism as by his mother's hostility, and to repair
the harm caused by the Herz Hombergs, the Peter Beers, and the whole
troop of so-called "Normal teachers" and official religious instructors.
A chief who, in face of constant strife and danger, founds a colony
with a band of half savage men, elevates it, and trains it to be
a pattern to others, can claim no greater praise than Mannheimer
deserved in founding the congregation of Vienna. The camp of Metternich
and Francis I tolerated no Jews within its domains; only by way of
exception a few rich families with their dependents were tolerated
under various extraordinary titles. These favored families had
immigrated from various countries, were in no way connected, had no
rights as a community, could not possess a synagogue, nor appoint a
rabbi; in short, by law almost everything was forbidden to them as a
religious body. Nevertheless, certain adventurous persons amongst them
desired to introduce a German order of service, founded on the model
of the Hamburg Temple, and their efforts were alternately encouraged
and frustrated by the government. When these enlightened men in Vienna
undertook to build a Temple, they secured the aid of Mannheimer as
preacher (June, 1825), but were compelled to evade the restrictive laws
by inventing some insignificant title for him, so that he might be
allowed to reside in Vienna.
Although Mannheimer was intimate with David Friedländer, Jacobson, and
the young iconoclasts with whom destruction of the old Judaism was a
principle, and had occasionally preached in the Reform synagogues of
Berlin, Hamburg, and Leipsic, yet he was not so strongly attached to
the new system that he did not recognize its fundamental errors. His
first and his last word in his new sphere of action was that no rupture
should be caused between Jews, no sectarianism should be encouraged,
and that the old orthodox party should not be offended and repelled by
daring movements, but should gradually be won over to the new forms.
Actuated by these ideas, he carried a moderate change in the synagogue
service, in opposition to the wishes of the man who had promoted him
to his office. Mannheimer in the new synagogue removed only offensive
excrescences, making the service dignified, and animating it by his
impressive words, but he retained the Hebrew language, that strong bond
of union, and, to the regret of his former brother reformers, dispensed
with the organ and German hymns. Even more successfully than Isaac
Bernays did Isaac Mannheimer pave the way to the reconciliation of old
and new ideas.
In his pulpit eloquence, acknowledged by competent judges, Jews
and Christians, to be of high quality, his power of harmoniously
combining two apparently hostile elements was displayed. Mannheimer
had discovered a noble treasure in Jewish literature and profited
richly by it. In the Talmud and Agada--a mine of thoughtful sayings,
parables, riddles, interesting observations and witty play upon
words--he made himself thoroughly at home, discovered the golden
grain, or, to speak more accurately, knew how to extract a pleasing
meaning from the most insignificant saying, and employed the remarks
of the old Agadists as interpreters of new views and thoughts. By
utilizing the Agadic elements, his method of preaching acquired a
peculiar character, and exercised strong attraction over the pious
Jews and the rising generation. Portuguese Jews (Franks), who had
migrated from Turkey to Vienna, also listened with pleasure to this
lively and spirited preacher. The East and West were united in
Mannheimer and in the new Viennese Temple, consecrated April, 1826.
As if the congregation of this Temple were intended from the outset
to complete the work of propitiation between old and new forms, they
succeeded in securing the services of Sulzer, a skilled musician, who
with his wealth of musical resources endowed the Hebrew prayers with
almost magical expressiveness, and transformed the old objectionable
intoning into soul-stirring melodies. These melodies rendered an organ
superfluous. The soft, swelling chorals and solos of the Viennese
Temple, as also Mannheimer's sermons, proved that the old possessions
were not utterly useless, as violent reformers had represented them to
be, but only required modifying to be impressive. Pulpit and choir,
working in accord, produced great effect upon the minds of the growing
congregation of Vienna, whose affection for inherited Judaism, and
reverence for Jewish antiquity were combined with a desire to satisfy
the demands of progress. Mannheimer's personality served to strengthen
the feeling so awakened. In the pulpit, as in household and social
affairs, he appeared, not as a guardian of souls, as a clergyman, or
priest--he abominated a sanctimonious, unctuous manner--but as a tender
father, as a friend, adviser, and help. As he did not shrink from
censuring the objectionable side of old and new customs, he educated,
by word and example, a pattern community in which each individual
strove to maintain peace and suppress dissension.
It was in Vienna that the subservient humility of the Jew was first
turned into self-respect, and this in spite of the political oppression
which lasted until the year of the Revolution. The aversion felt by
the barbarous Polish Jews to civilization gradually disappeared,
giving way to a desire for self-improvement. The Viennese community
thereby obtained historical importance. The tones that resounded from
the pulpit and the choir, stirring the members of the congregation,
awoke a mighty echo in the near and remote communities of Austria.
Pesth, Prague, and smaller communities in Hungary and Bohemia followed
the impulse given by Vienna, influenced by the conciliatory manner
with which the "purified divine service" was there conducted, and the
movement commenced in Vienna extended to Galicia.
The election of Chacham Bernays as head of the Hamburg congregation,
and Mannheimer's activity in establishing the order of service in the
Vienna synagogue, gradually aroused the emulation of other German
communities. Educated rabbis were preferred, and they restored dignity
to the synagogue. The German Jews in turn made their influence felt
in France and Italy. The Franco-Jewish consistories having neglected
the favorable opportunity to be leaders, offered by French supremacy,
had to content themselves with being followers. In Italy those of the
communities that belonged to Austria also felt the impulse originating
in Germany, although sermons in the vernacular or in Spanish had been
delivered there since olden times, and the divine service, at least
outwardly, showed no signs of neglect.
How great the harm that can be done through unsoundness of mind or
nebulous theories even by distinguished men, or how, at least, they can
nullify their own efforts, was proved by a striking example in Berlin,
in most remarkable contrast to that in Vienna. At the time when the
learned mob of Germany were flinging stones at the Jews with the cry
of "Hep, hep!" three Jewish young men met together to plan a sort of
conspiracy against the incorrigible Christian state, all three filled
with earnest ideals. They pondered carefully the means to be employed
in destroying the deeply-rooted hatred against Jews in Germany. The
first of the three was Zunz who lived to grow grey in research; the
second, Edward Gans, the champion and apostle of Hegel's philosophy
and the assailant of the old ways of jurisprudence; and lastly, an
accountant who lived in a literary world, Moses Moser, Heine's most
trusted friend, whom he called, "The _édition de luxe_ of a real man,
the epilogue of Nathan the Wise." They combined (November 27, 1819) for
the purpose of founding a "Society for the Culture and Science of the
Jews." Gans, who was of a mercurial nature, and might have been the
leader of a revolution, was the chief of this movement. These three
young men secured the aid of two others similarly disposed, who were
enthusiastic for science, freedom, and idealism. The two fossilized
Mendelssohnians, Ben-David and David Friedländer, also became members
of the society, and Jacobson was ready with advice and assistance.
In all it numbered about fifty members in Berlin; in Hamburg it
owned about twenty of the supporters of the Temple Union, and a few
others scattered in one place and another. As already mentioned, Heine
afterwards attached himself to it, and worked for its success.
The first condition made by the founders was that the members were to
adhere faithfully to Judaism, to withstand bravely the allurements of
the Church, and thus give to the young generation a brilliant example
of constancy and independence. Had it remained true to this programme,
the society would have been a beneficent factor in the advancement of
Judaism, seeing that most of its members were talented, and occupied
the heights of culture. But it started from false premises, aimed at
results too far removed, and employed the wrong means to attain the
end. Practical minds were wanting in the society. The false premise
was, that if the Jews acquired solid culture, devoted themselves to
arts and science, and carried on agriculture and handicrafts instead
of trade, German anti-Semitism would vanish, the sons of Teut would
fraternally embrace the sons of Jacob, and the state would not
deny them equal privileges. Therefore the society desired--their
multitudinous wishes seem almost ludicrous--to establish schools,
seminaries, and academies for the Jews, to promote trades, arts,
agriculture, and scientific studies, and even educate them in the forms
of polite society. From the idea of founding academies, however, only
a sort of private school resulted, where the cultured members of the
society taught or caused to be instructed poor youths who had come to
Berlin principally from Poland, students of the Talmud who escaped
from its folios to learn "wisdom." The founders soon perceived that
they had built castles in the air, and that the Society for Culture,
on account of its pretentious character, met with no support. They
therefore took up a less exalted position, limiting themselves to mere
agitation, and to the promotion of the science of Judaism,--certainly
a praiseworthy enterprise and a pressing necessity. They determined to
deliver discourses in turn, and to establish a journal for the "Science
of Judaism." But the leaders themselves did not exactly know what was
meant by this term, nor how to commence their work.
Hegel, the profound thinker and great sophist, the court and church
philosopher, introduced these young Jews, ardent in the pursuit of
truth, into the labyrinths of his method, and confused their minds.
Young Israel, the founders of the Society for Culture, at first
listened to the utterances of this philosophical acrobat as to oracles.
In a parrot-like manner they repeated after him, that Judaism is
the religion of the spirit, which has given up the ghost, and that
Christianity has united in itself the whole of ancient history,
and radiates its ideas in a rejuvenated, ennobled form. They also
accustomed themselves, like their master, to walk upon stilts. The
simplest thoughts were presented in distorted forms, as though they did
not wish to be understood. How, indeed, could feeling for Judaism have
awakened in them? Edward Gans, it is true, was continually speaking
of the "unrelieved pain of Judaism," but was all the time thinking
of himself, who could not obtain a position in Prussia. What was the
aim of the science of Judaism which this Society for Culture desired
to promote? Gans expressed it in the hollow phrases of the Hegelian
jargon, and it is apparent that the leader did not know what cause his
followers were to defend.
"The Jews cannot perish, nor can Judaism be utterly destroyed.
But in the great movement of the whole, it is to seem to have
perished, still it is to continue to live, as the stream lives
on in the ocean."
The Society desired to assist in demolishing the wall of separation
dividing Jews from Christians, and the Jewish world from the European.
It wished to abolish every dissimilarity existing between the Jewish
and the universal system.
The journal of the Society for Culture testified to the uncertainty and
obscurity of its aim. Its articles consisted chiefly of indigestible
Hegelian phraseology, or of learned matter of use to an exceedingly
limited circle as material for further work. Heine, who called a spade
by its name, bluntly declared to the editor of the journal, "That the
greater part of it is useless owing to its obscure form."
"Did I not know by chance what Marcus [one of the contributors]
and Gans are aiming at, I should not understand anything of
what they write.... Insist upon culture of style with your
contributors. Without this, the other culture cannot thrive."
Yet with this farrago of nonsense the Society hoped to elevate not only
the Jews, but even Judaism, and were indignant that the former paid no
regard to their efforts. Gans, in an article giving an account of their
plans, complained that the founders were not understood. The reproach
which he cast upon the Jews in general was especially true of the
Society for Culture--
"Enthusiasm for religion, together with the solidity of ancient
institutions, has vanished, but no new enthusiasm has come to
light, and no new state of affairs has established itself.
We have not gone beyond that negative enlightenment, which
consists in despising and contemning things as they are,
without troubling to infuse a new spirit."
This marvel could least of all be brought about by the Society for
Culture, because it was deaf to the voice of God, which speaks in
Jewish history, in Jewish law from its very commencement, and in the
Jewish people. The Society inveighed against the whole world, and
relieved its feelings in elegiac effusions. Gans, the chief mover,
poured out his wrath over the rich men in Israel, who showed no
sympathy with his world-awakening dreams.
Great was the disappointment of the founders of the Society for
Culture. Its supporters diminished rather than increased in number. The
journal with its curiously confused language found no readers, supplies
ran short, and the members themselves forsook the standard, and in
spite of the tacit oath embraced Christianity. Edward Gans himself
secretly cherished the idea of obtaining a professorship by means of
baptism. The dissensions among the German Jews, the contemptuous tone
in which the sons of Judaism spoke of their religion, and the numerous
examples of baptism in their midst--up to the year 1823 there were no
less than 1,236 conversions in Berlin, comprising half of the members
of the community, and in other parts of Prussia there were 1,382--and
the pietism of the Prussian court, brought about the formation in
Berlin of a Society, "For the Promotion of Christianity among the
Jews," which hoped to see the whole body of the Jews enter the Church.
The election of talented Jews to academic posts was strenuously
opposed. In vain did Hardenberg, the minister, intercede for Gans,
to obtain for him the chair of historical jurisprudence, which was
his specialty. Gans considered the possibility of becoming baptized
whilst delivering long addresses before the Society for Culture. The
Society dissolved, and at length died out quietly, uncared for, and
unregretted. Gans, the chief mover, who possessed sufficient wealth to
enable him to remain true to his vow, increased the number of sceptics
and infidels professing Christianity. This so exasperated Heine,
although he himself was a convert to Christianity, that two decades
later, even after the grave had closed over him, he could not forgive
Gans.
"The apostasy of Gans was the more revolting, because he played
the part of agitator, and accepted the positive duties of a
president. It is a traditional duty for the captain to be the
last to leave the sinking ship; Gans, however, was the first to
save himself."
Moser, the second of the triumvirate of the Society for Culture,
remained more steadfast to his views, although he doubted the
possibility of saving Judaism, and proclaimed the wholesale baptism of
the Jews. The third member of the triumvirate was the most steadfast,
and alone remained thoroughly true to his word. He was also filled with
doubts, but he did not despair of improvement. He pointed out how the
cure or the completion of the new revival must commence. "What alone
survives and is imperishable in the midst of this 'Mabul' (deluge) is
the science of Judaism; it continues to live, even though for centuries
no finger has been raised on its behalf. I confess that next to my
submission to the justice of God, my hope and support consist in the
cultivation of this science. These storms and experiences shall not
so influence me as to bring me into collision with myself. I have
done what I thought my duty. Because I saw that I was preaching in a
wilderness I ceased to preach, but not in order to be faithless to the
purport of my own words. There remains naught for the members of the
Society to do, save to remain true, each man to the work of his own
limited sphere, and leave the rest to God."
If the Society for Culture, which started on its career with high
aspirations, and ended so lamentably, succeeded in producing only
this one result, stirring up love for the science of Judaism, then
its dreams and attempts have not been entirely vain. In history not
even the slightest seed is wasted; but no plant could blossom in soil
covered with the dust cast on it by Friedländer and Jacobson in Berlin.
As if smitten with a curse, the spot where Mendelssohn began the work
so full of promise, nothing could be made to thrive or be of service in
the revival of Judaism. The rabbinical academy, which the rabbinical
assistant in Berlin, in conjunction with excellent men, desired to call
into existence, never saw the light. From another quite unexpected
quarter, however, there arose the prospect, if not of salvation, yet of
its beginning.