Chapter XV: 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.