Chapter II: Preface: To the Index Volume (2)

To secure means for a university course, he agreed to accept a position as tutor in Ostrowo, and entered upon his work at the end of 1840. Ostrowo is a little town in the south-eastern part of the Province, the seat of a large Jewish community, which at the time was still completely under the sway of the graceless habits of Ghetto life. Graetz felt thoroughly uncomfortable. His position in the house at which he was engaged to teach did not please him, and in the town he found no one with whom he cared to cultivate friendly intercourse. He had submitted to tutoring, by no means an arduous occupation, in order to lay by money, but he lacked financial talent and the ability to economize. In fact, his devotion to his family connections, his good nature, and his improvidence involved him in pecuniary embarrassments so serious that the monologues in his diary overflow with pessimistic, melancholy reflections. He sought indemnification in frequent excursions to neighboring towns, in composing a Hebrew biography of Mishna teachers under the title תולדות אבות {Hebrew: Toldot Avot},[10] and, it appears, in reading the works of the Fathers of the Church. On one of his little trips, the occasion being the betrothal of a friend of his, he met the sister of the _fiancée_, a very young girl, who attracted and pleased him, and who was destined to exert decisive and salutary influence upon his life. The meeting acted like a soothing charm upon his ill-humor, though he was far from anticipating the consequences it bore. He remained in his position at Ostrowo for one year and a half, until July, 1842, when a trivial occurrence ruptured the irksome relation in a manner not altogether pleasant.

Now he went straightway to Breslau to the University. As he had not been graduated from a _Gymnasium_, Graetz had to obtain ministerial permission to attend the University. His petition was granted, and, in October, 1842, he was matriculated. With reverential awe and expectation the self-taught student entered the mysterious lecture halls consecrated to pure science, only to leave them shrugging his shoulders at the wisdom proclaimed, disappointed, his longings unsatisfied. The knowledge of which he was master when he began his University course was richer and more varied than ordinary students are likely to start with, and though it was not systematically ordered nor well-balanced, it formed a unit, and had already begun to crystallize about a center. His apprenticeship years, in short, were over; the maturity of his views and his judgment is unmistakable.

While at the University, he heard lectures on a wide variety of subjects--on history, philosophy, Oriental languages, even physics--but it does not appear that any left deep traces upon his mind. Even Professor Bernstein, an Orientalist of considerable reputation, who drew him into the circle of his close associates, did not understand how to kindle his pupil’s zeal, usually so impetuous, for the thorough study of Syriac and Arabic. Apparently Graetz had relinquished the ambition to gain mastery of them. The only one to have success was Professor Braniss, a philosopher in high esteem in his day, with whom also Graetz cultivated intimate relations. He at all events must have been instrumental in acquainting him with the Hegelian system of philosophy, and in imbuing him with the recognition, that even in the world of liberty, that is, man’s world of mental endeavor, phases of development succeed each other in conformity with absolute laws, chiefly of an ideal, non-mechanical nature; that therefore the spiritual powers that produce the history of mankind by the realization of ever higher ideas not only follow their indwelling laws, but at the same time submit unconditionally to the law of cause and effect; and that the paradox of opposites, the principle of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis, is particularly helpful in the consideration of historical phenomena.

Though Graetz was immersed in his studies, he did not fail to give close attention to the occurrences in the Breslau Jewish community. The events happening there in those days were not merely of local interest. They cast their light and their shadow far beyond the Silesian frontier, and were the cause of intense excitement in all Jewish circles of Germany. In Breslau the orthodox and the reform views of Judaism for the first time rushed at each other with full force in the struggle for supremacy. Storm and conflict raged violently between the old and the new. Blind to the conditions of the time, orthodoxy stubbornly opposed a _non possumus_ to every offer looking to an adjustment of difficulties. The representatives of the two parties, the orthodox Solomon Tiktin on the one side and the progressive Abraham Geiger on the other, sought to get the better of each other with remorseless acrimony. Geiger won the upper hand, and even the disruption of the Breslau congregation caused by Tiktin’s defeat did not derogate from the reform champion’s victory.

Dr. Abraham Geiger should be classed among the most prominent rabbis of his time. The modern development of the religious life had been proceeding quietly though steadily, when it was convulsed to its depths by the storm announced by his first appearance upon the rabbinical scene. As a speaker and as a writer he handled a popular style with masterful skill, which manifested itself in felicitous copiousness rather than in the concentration of precise, forcible language. One of the best pulpit orators among Jews, he succeeded in holding attention and stimulating thought by his simple manner and brilliant turns of expression. His published sermons, very limited in number, give not even an approximate idea of the powerful impression produced by his spoken words, totally unaided though they were by charms of person.[11] His scholarly contributions to Jewish science are of pre-eminent and of permanent value. He has rendered particularly valiant service by his researches into the history of literature, a field in which he was master. On the other hand, one sometimes misses thoroughness of scholarly culture in his early productions, especially those of the first part of his Breslau period. Besides, he was fond of obtruding his reform bias. In spite of his scientific attainments, his historical sense lacked profundity, and in spite of his great achievements in the province of modern liturgy, his appreciation of the needs and emotions of the people’s spiritual life was neither sufficiently delicate nor sufficiently intense. At bottom he was a doctrinaire rationalist. His religious program and aims, too, were not clearly and definitely put forth. For example, his attitude towards the radical currents at that time rolling their destructive waves over Judaism amounted to more than benevolent neutrality. The observer cannot ward off the impression, that he was inclined to steer straight for ethical deism, and was restrained only by opportunist reasons. At this above all Graetz took umbrage, and by and by his antipathy to Geiger was complete. A good deal of sham and tinsel had probably slipped into the various tentative organizations which Geiger endeavored to call into existence; perhaps they were unavoidable concomitants of such efforts. It is possible, too, that the unpleasant impression was reinforced by a tendency to officiousness observable in Geiger--at worst a pardonable foible. As Graetz was constituted, he felt so strong a repugnance to humbug and pretense that he exercised neither forbearance nor consideration towards such faults. He visited Geiger only once, possibly twice. Immediately after Graetz had made himself at home in the lecture-rooms of his department, he paid his respects to the two rabbinical party-leaders. The entry in his diary is as follows:

“I have made the acquaintance of Rabbi Tiktin. With what reverence
I used to stand and look at the mail-clad names of the Tiktins on
the first pages of רי''פים {Hebrew: Rifim}![12] As Charlemagne in
his iron armor kept all intruders at a becoming distance, so the
dignity of those theologic knights seemed to me to be enhanced by
the long beards and the imposing Spanish canes[13] and the Talmudic
dust. There was I sitting next to a descendant of those rabbinical
נפילים {Hebrew: Nefilim}.[14] Ah! what a falling-off there has
been! _Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis._ To be sure, there
is still the stately stature, still the Spanish cane. But the
_ensemble_, a something not to be defined in words, is missing.
Next to the rabbi, _nolentes volentes_, I place Dr. Geiger, a
spare little man. Why he was so very kind to me I do not know.
Of Hirsch we have not yet spoken, and probably shall not speak.
But to what depths we have sunk! In the presence of fifty Jews,
headed by a רב {Hebrew: Rav}, Dr. Freund[15] dares utter words like
“rabbinically erratic inferences.” Cicero and Plato, then, are to
be read as antidotes to rabbinical perversions. Zounds! And to-day
Geiger delivered his first lecture on the Mishna. The Mishna is a
collection of _religious notions, as they were formed and developed
from the Exile to R. Jehuda Hanassi_. What insane logic!”

When, in March, 1843, the stiff-necked, tenacious champion of an effete form of Judaism, the lion-warrior Solomon Tiktin, last representative of a race of Talmudic heroes, wounded to the quick by his defeat, was removed from the scene by death, Geiger stood at the zenith of his fame. Since many a day no rabbi’s name had been so well-known as Geiger’s in all the extent of German Jewry, none was so frequently mentioned. In Silesia there was no more popular rabbi, and in Breslau his word was potent, influential, and feared by his adversaries. His scientific eminence was generally acknowledged; his eloquence dominated the pulpit no less than the minds of his hearers. Who dared attack him was badly used, and bore ridicule as well as injury from the fray.

In the course of the year 1844, the first signs of a slowly crystallizing reaction became noticeable. Various germinating forces looking to the formation of a new theologic party on a conservative platform consolidated in that year under the leadership of Zacharias Frankel. From this place and that, single barbed arrows, followed by more and sharper ones, winged by irony and hard to parry, came whizzing through the air, striking Geiger and his followers in the most sensitive spots. A well-known weekly Jewish journal, _Der Orient_, under the editorship of Dr. Fürst, published reports of the more important occurrences in the Breslau community. The descriptions of the anonymous correspondent were graphic, pungent, and critical. The articles naturally aroused attention. In Breslau, as they continued to appear week after week, they created a veritable sensation. The two parties looked forward to each issue of the “Orient” with equal expectancy, though otherwise with opposite feelings. In the orthodox camp there was exultation. At last an expert writer had appeared, who laid bare all sorts of evils fearlessly and unsparingly, and who seemed to serve the cause of conservatism by his bold opposition to Geiger. But who was the archer that sped his arrow with aim so true and poise so elegant? Guesses were hazarded, a narrow search was instituted, and especially the ranks of the Jewish students of theology at that time gathered in Breslau, mostly about Geiger, were sharply inspected. It was established beyond a doubt, that it was a _homo novus_, a student from the Province--Graetz, who, proudly independent of every sort of patronage, was earning a scant livelihood by giving lessons. The amazement grew when Graetz, nearly simultaneously with the just mentioned contributions to the “Orient,” published a critical review, valuable even at this late day, of Geiger’s “Textbook of the Mishnic Language.”[16] This critique, auspiciously ushering him into the scientific world,[17] was begun in the literary supplement of the “Orient” at the end of 1844, and continued as a series of articles in the following year. It gave him the opportunity of expounding his own views upon the subject and displaying advantageously a fund of information, mastery of the material, philological tact, scientific instincts, and considerable talent as a stylist. His criticism of the book is often to the point, but rather severe and not entirely free from animosity. It was characteristic of Graetz to express his opinion clearly and directly. Geiger replied to the challenge in “The Israelite of the Nineteenth Century”[18] in still more acrimonious articles, which likewise are not wholly objective. In fact, they contain approaches to personalities, and dwell upon slips and trivial details, thus demonstrating the importance attached to the appearance of his young antagonist in the arena. In any event, Graetz had drawn the attention of a wider circle to himself, and in Breslau he had become at one bound the central topic of interest in _Karlsstrasse_. The orthodox partisans made advances to him, although he did not for a moment leave them in doubt about his disapproval of their program and his dissent from their religious views. He told them that he was pursuing his own original ideas, and that his guiding principle was unalterable loyalty to positive Judaism. However, he restrained them from many a foolish and fanatic step. In the face of orthodox opposition Geiger had energetically organized a religious school, which was prospering. Graetz therefore advised the adherents of orthodoxy not to permit themselves to lose touch with the younger generation, but to build up a similar institution on conservative lines. The advice seems to have fallen on fruitful soil. It was intimated to the counselor, that the intention was to entrust him with the organization and superintendence of a school of that kind, provided he obtained his University degree before its opening. Besides, his name was beginning to be mentioned in connection with vacant rabbinates. It was therefore necessary to hasten his graduation. After a few weeks of severe application, he finished his thesis, _De auctoritate et vi, quam gnosis in Judaismum habuerit_, which secured him the doctorate from the University of Jena in April, 1845. Under the title, “Gnosticism and Judaism,”[19] the dissertation was published in that year as the first original product of his pen. The work in every respect bears the peculiar stamp of his scientific character. It is distinguished by familiarity with patristic literature; by his method of explaining Talmud statements, commonly taken to be general, as particular historical cases; by lucidity of arrangement and presentation; and by his happy gift of divining the occult relation between things, which enabled him to shed the first rays of light upon the ספר יצירה {Hebrew: Sefer Yetzirah},[20] the most enigmatic book of rabbinical literature. The thesis was received kindly, and it gave him a place in the Jewish world of scholarship.

Such surprising successes swelled the breast of the literary novice, who had worked his way to the front by arduous toil, with justifiable and happy hopes. The halcyon days of young fame, at the remembrance of which his face lighted up with pleasure even in old age, he planned to spend with his parents. On his way home he passed through Krotoschin. There, in his friend’s house, he met the half-grown girl of other days, now in the flush of young womanhood. Her image, faint though it had become in the background of his memory, had not faded entirely. She was the daughter of Monasch, the proprietor of the well-known Hebrew printing establishment. Each made a deep impression upon the other, and encouraged to believe that his future might be considered assured, Graetz did not conceal his feelings. They were requited, and the young people plighted their troth. Graetz did not suspect that he had won a strong womanly heart that would be his beacon and a prop to which he would cling for support during the dark days soon to break over him.

All sorts of vague, undefined hopes arose before his view, and some of them gradually assumed shape. The prospect of an honorable position, such as he had longed for and aspired to, seemed about to be realized. The rabbinate of Gleiwitz, one of the larger congregations of Upper Silesia, taking rank in wealth and perhaps in size after Breslau, was vacant, and the authorities were looking out for a man equipped with rabbinic lore, standing upon the height of modern culture, and favoring a sober, moderate reform movement. All entitled to a voice in the matter fixed upon Graetz, whose reputation as a writer had spread to them. He seemed the most suitable incumbent. By virtue of his native talent and his attainments, it was thought that he would be able to overrule or to meet the manifold, rather hazy views and demands of the members of the congregation. The leading spirits among them declared themselves in favor of his election. Nothing more was necessary than to attract all the other circles of the community by proving his homiletic ability in several trial sermons, the success of which seemed a foregone conclusion. Before the great Holy Days of 1845 (5606) Graetz received a Hebrew communication from the directors of the Gleiwitz congregation, couched in the most flattering terms, assuring him of the reversion of the rabbinate, and inviting him to preach the sermons in their synagogue on the Day of Atonement.

At the appointed time, on the eve of the sacred day, he ascended the pulpit, and the result was--a thoroughly unexpected fiasco, the more deplorable as it shattered his own confidence in his oratorical powers. He had forgotten his memorandum completely. Losing his presence of mind, he had to leave the pulpit after saying a few words. His friends and followers stood by him loyally, and did their utmost to secure for him the opportunity of repairing the damage. He succeeded in rehabilitating himself only partly; the ground lost could not be recovered. The surprising mishap, it must be confessed now after the lapse of time, was a stroke of good fortune for the ambitious scholar and his life-work, ungentle though the impetus was that forced him into the path for which he was peculiarly equipped and gifted. In those days of universal fermentation, the religious life of Jewish communities was crossed and agitated by opposite, confused, and stormy currents. A man of uncontrollable impulse to be active and to exert independent, direct influence whenever it might seem necessary, and prone to give utterance to his convictions in truthful, incisive, and caustic language--a quality of dubious value--would hardly have succeeded in steering his rabbinical boat among the crags of party strife, usually carried on with fanatic violence. He would either have had to become faithless to his nature and genius, or, if that were not possible, eventually be wrecked. At best, in case he had a high degree of tact and prudence at his disposal, he would have consumed his finest powers in putting more or less salutary measures into effect on a restricted field. Graetz, who knew himself thoroughly, had always feared that he would not be in his proper place in a rabbinical position. From the first he had felt a shrinking at the thought of the duties and responsibilities of a rabbi. A few days before he left for Gleiwitz he wrote in his diary:

“Of all positions I am least adapted for that of rabbi; in every
way I lack force of manner, an imposing presence. My knowledge,
too, is highly defective, but my will is strong, energetic. If
God’s service can be performed by an instrument of such caliber,
then here am I ready for it, body and soul. But the preaching!”

In very truth the preacher’s Pegasus serves the noble enthusiasm of the elect willingly and ardently, and as willingly lends his back to mediocrity to execute more or less doubtful tricks before the eyes and ears of the many-headed crowd. Graetz it threw in the critical moment, and the fall affected him deeply and painfully. He who only a short time before, almost without effort, had won literary triumphs, and who as a rule shrank from no difficult undertaking, now despaired of ever being able to wield the living word with the power with which he directed the pen. In fact, he had been denied the external qualifications of an orator. It cannot be said to have been his appearance that stood in the way of success; he was of average height and well-knit frame. But in loud speech his voice lacked modulation, and his manner was ineffectual. Above all, he was incapable of posing; in his character there was not the slightest trace of the actor, who, as Goethe says, “might give points to a preacher.”

IV.

SCHOLAR AND TEACHER.

The above incident put a hopeless end to all the prospects he had entertained. Again care for his daily bread stalked by his side like a specter. The most deplorable aspect of his case was that his strength did not emerge from this severe contest, as from former ones, steeled and braced by cheering hopes for the future. Besides, he reproached himself for having drawn another and a beloved person into his forlorn life. Then the high-mindedness and unselfish devotion of the woman of his choice sustained him, refreshing his weary soul with consolation and encouragement, and calming the tumult of his wounded feelings. His animal spirits rose again under the stimulus of an honorable invitation, extended by Zacharias Frankel, to join a conference of conservative rabbis called by him to meet at Dresden in September,[21] 1846, for the purpose of discussing the religious problems of the day and uniting for concerted action.

At the very beginning of his career in Dresden, Dr. Zacharias Frankel had developed fruitful activity in connection with the removal of the political and civil disabilities, especially with regard to oaths, under which his coreligionists in Saxony were laboring. None the less he was essentially a scholar. Master of comprehensive knowledge of the Talmud, which he had acquired with critical thoroughness, he laid the foundations for the modern analysis of this work of literature. He made it his life-task to promote the scientific study of the Talmud and trace the evolution of the _Halakha_. The first-fruits of his literary endeavor betrayed the serious, thorough scholar by the accuracy, the scrupulous nicety, and the trustworthiness of his research, and secured for him a high and undisputed position in the scientific world. When the reform agitation within the Jewish community of Germany developed into a rapid stream whose waters grew more and more turbulent; when, on the one side, rabbinical conferences were planned for the purpose of systematizing and sanctioning projected innovations, and, on the other, distrust of the progressive leaders inspired the fear that the resolutions and professions of such assemblies might throw dangerous, inflammable material into the different congregations; Frankel deemed it prudent to give up his reserve and actively influence the religious movement. In 1844, accordingly, he began to publish the quarterly “Journal for the Religious Interests of Judaism.”[22] It was to bear a strictly scientific character, and at the same time discuss the religious topics of the day. A sober, experienced, and tolerant theologian, Frankel held the position, that in matters of faith as in the other concerns of life the exigencies of the times have to be considered, but that concessions to the modern spirit may not remove us from historic ground, and that all modifications must result from a scientific appreciation of the essence and traditions of Judaism.

All this appealed strongly to Graetz, and no sooner had he come into public notice, in the year following the first appearance of the journal, than he sought to establish relations with Frankel. The latter met his advances with cordiality, and invited the young scholar to become a contributor to his quarterly review. Graetz responded with a brilliant and suggestive article, “The Septuagint in the Talmud.”[23] It affords a striking example of his peculiar method of comparing Talmud and Midrash passages with each other and with the statements and quotations of the Fathers of the Church, thus determining the historical elements of the Talmudic account and building theories upon it. In the same year (1845), Frankel had gone to Frankfort-on-the-Main, to the second rabbinical conference, with the hope of infusing a spirit of moderation and conciliation into its proceedings and measures. But he abandoned the hope on the passage of the resolution, that the retention of Hebrew as the language of the synagogue service was only “advisable,” not “essential” (_objektiv-nothwendig_). He, therefore, withdrew from the conference in a public manner, and justified his action in a formal declaration, equally dignified and firm.

On all sides Frankel’s course met with hearty approval. Its effect was to startle the conservatives of every shade of opinion out of their apathy. Numerous prominent communities sent him flattering addresses, conveying their thanks and their unreserved commendation of his resolute policy. Graetz had written an enthusiastic document, which was circulated in Breslau, and was quickly covered with signatures. In collecting them, he had not been able to resist the malicious prompting to secure the names of notorious adherents of Geiger. The latter had taken deep offense at Frankel’s secession, and had been betrayed into abuse by his declaration. It is impossible to say now, why Frankel did not at once utilize the disposition in his favor to gather a large conservative party about himself. Only in the following year, 1846, he took steps looking to this end. He issued invitations to the conservative theologians of modern bias, summoning them to a convention at Dresden, with the purpose perhaps of devising an effective opposition to the third reform conference of rabbis to meet at Breslau in July of the same year. But even this effort was not made with the energy characteristic of Frankel and necessary to accomplish the desired result. When Graetz arrived in Dresden in September, 1846, he was amazed to find that no one else had put in appearance. Samson Raphael Hirsch, at that time District Rabbi of Emden, had from the first refused co-operation with the movement, inasmuch as he denied the authority, natural or conferred, of the modern rabbi to modify the religious cult. Rapoport of Prague had declined the invitation for reasons not specified. It is well-known that his interests were enlisted only in scientific pursuits. Michael Sachs of Berlin had excused himself on the plea of routine duties. For most of the others the time and place of convention were not convenient. To sue for support was out of the question with Frankel’s aristocratic temperament. It was repugnant to him, or he did not know how, to create sentiment in his own favor by agitation or self-advertisement. He could not attract a party to his leadership by seductive wiles, nor infuse fanatic factionalism into its ranks. Relying solely on the justice of his cause, and appealing exclusively to the convictions of his followers, he scorned petty tricks and artifices. That Graetz was the only one to render unconditional obedience to his summons must naturally have produced a deep impression upon him. The two men, so different in years, disposition, and endowments, but at one in views and aims, were brought close to each other by the personal meeting. By tacit agreement they became companions in arms from that moment unto the end. Graetz, at all events, recognizing that their religious principles approximated each other, was resolved to take his position in theological affairs by Frankel’s side, whenever so doing involved no loss of independence. Frankel in turn evinced a sense of their religious affinity by conferring upon Graetz, at his request, the formal authorization for the exercise of rabbinical functions התרת הוראה ({Hebrew: Hatarat hora’ah}). At the end of 1846, Frankel gave up the publication of his journal to save his strength for a better future. To this third and last annual series, Graetz had contributed, besides several reviews, one of his important treatises, that discussing “The Construction of Jewish History”[24] in several articles. Bright and vivid in style and replete with fine thoughts which even homiletes drew upon in various ways, the essay defines clearly and sharply the considerations and points of view of essential importance in a complete presentation of Jewish history. But the author was still so prejudiced in favor of the technically philosophic terminology and conceptions of his time that he was betrayed into giving undue prominence to the transcendence of God as compared with the monotheistic idea.

Though Graetz had won high respect by his scholarly productions especially in theologic circles, he vainly looked about for a position, no matter how modest, in which to strike root. At last the sky seemed to grow brighter; he was cheered by the prospect of soon being able to establish a home of his own, a prospect that proved a _fata morgana_. By the end of 1846 the orthodox party in Breslau resumed energetic operations. They had accepted as their rabbi Gedaliah, the son of the deceased Solomon Tiktin, who had inherited from his father only his tall stature, and they were preparing to open a religious school for the propaganda of their principles. Its organization and superintendence were entrusted to Graetz.[25] The Breslau community was no longer a unit, the orthodox members having separated from the congregation. But the seceders had no legally valid right to form a body corporate. Moreover, on July 23, 1847, the law defining the status of the Prussian Jews appeared, and it could not be determined how conditions would be modified by it. Wealthy individuals in their private capacity therefore assumed responsibility in the business contracts of the orthodox party, particularly in the matter of the new school. Then the political storms of 1848 swept over the Prussian provinces. Economic disturbances occurred, and apprehensive of still more serious ones, the wealthy patrons of the orthodox party recalled their pledges. The complete collapse of the religious school followed as the first sacrifice in orthodox circles claimed by the political flood, whose waves carried destructive change to the most remote relations between men. Graetz was again left stranded, without an occupation, without a livelihood.

At that time all eyes were turned towards Vienna, where the popular uprising had assumed vast dimensions and won surprising victories. Democracy stood in battle array, and had gained possession of the Austrian capital. It was fondly hoped that the fortune of war would decide there in favor of the democratic party. A friend of Graetz, Dr. B. Friedmann,[26] later rabbi in Mannheim, was at that time prominent in Breslau as an effective popular speaker, and was a member of the editorial staff of the democratic organ, the _Oderzeitung_. By his intervention the curious proposition was made to Graetz to go to Vienna as correspondent of the journal just mentioned. In his forlorn state he acquiesced, though not without reluctance. On his journey to Vienna, he felt impelled to leave the direct route and stop off at Nikolsburg to pay a visit to his former teacher, Samson Raphael Hirsch, who had meantime resigned the District Rabbinate of Emden for that of Nikolsburg. Letters had passed between them constantly since the Oldenburg days, and although Graetz was not in sympathy with the rigidly traditional point of view occupied by Hirsch, and no longer viewed the theologic attitude of his old guide with youthful enthusiasm, but rather with critical, sober judgment, their friendly relations of other times had suffered no diminution in cordiality. Graetz’s love and reverence for Hirsch had not in the least evaporated, and Hirsch still felt strongly attracted to the younger man. He was not disposed to sanction his project of going to Vienna, the hot-bed of revolution, and Graetz, who had little love and desire for the calling of a political reporter, was easily persuaded to stay in Nikolsburg and content himself with a subordinate place at the religious school of the town. In the background, to be sure, the reversion of a teacher’s position at a theologic seminary, projected and seriously considered by Hirsch, loomed up before him.

Hirsch had long cherished the idea of founding a Jewish theologic institute. He shared this dear ambition with the other prominent rabbis of his generation, who hoped thus to further their wish to perpetuate each one his own theologic bias. The establishment of a theologic seminary was, in fact, one of the burning questions of the day. Nikolsburg, where a popular Talmud school had flourished from time immemorial, seemed to lend itself to the execution of Hirsch’s plan. It was only necessary to use the existing institution as a foundation, make the proper changes in its management, and infuse the new spirit into it. Graetz was at once induced by his patron to give a course of lectures on Jewish history to the students at Nikolsburg, who were well versed in the Talmud, but whose training had been wholly dialectic. The character of his auditors suggested the subject to the lecturer. He treated the time of the Mishna and the Talmud, a period of which he had previously made a thorough study, and to which he again devoted serious research with a view to his academic purpose. Despite the zeal with which he applied himself to his lectures and studies, his main expectation suffered disappointment. The painfulness of his precarious position became more pronounced as time passed. The fanatics of the Nikolsburg Ghetto found fault even with the scrupulously religious conduct of their District Rabbi; as for his disciple, he went up and down among them a strange, repellant figure. Denunciations led the local authorities to suspect him of democratic leanings, and he was thus branded with the darkest stigma that could be fastened upon any one, but particularly upon a foreigner, in the Austria of that day. All the influence possessed by his friends had to be exerted to ward off ugly complications and immediate expulsion.

It became more and more evident that the rabbinical seminary, upon which Graetz had staked all his hopes, was only a bubble. Whether the circumstances of place and time were unpropitious, or whether Hirsch dropped the plan for other reasons, is doubtful.[27] Moreover, the friendly relations between the two men began to be somewhat strained. Therefore, the proposal to undertake the organization and superintendence of a school, made him by the directors of the Jewish community of Lundenburg, a little town in the Nikolsburg district in the neighborhood of Vienna, was hailed by Graetz as release from an untenable position. Negotiations were quickly concluded, and on September 12, 1850, he was appointed director and superintendent of the Jewish school at Lundenburg.

Before entering upon the duties of his office he hastened home, and in the beginning of October, 1850, solemnized his marriage with the loyal woman whose patience had never failed, who had never been discouraged by hope deferred, and had never lost confidence in his ability. He could not have found a truer, a braver comrade than the wife who shared the fortunes of the rest of his career. By her harmonious, temperate, and loving nature, she not only glorified his home and cheered cloudy days, but also restrained his impetuous disposition, and moderated his proneness to sharp, caustic, aggressive words. She understood the needs of his inmost soul, in the recesses of which a reverberation was sometimes heard as of vague, unfulfilled longings. His personality was made up of many an incommensurable factor that baffled explanation. With all his communicativeness he was reserved; the most intimate emotions of his heart were never revealed. To outsiders he always appeared wholly unruffled and serene, and no one suspected the thoughts and feelings stormily surging through his being under its placid surface. But in order to preserve his equanimity, he stood in need of frank expression to some one or in some way. It was the outlet and the purification of the easily excited and strongly reacting emotions of a nature responding quickly to external pressure. Probably the leaves of his diary served this purpose; most of them were written under the stimulus of tense passion. From the day of his marriage the record becomes more and more attenuated, until it ceases entirely. In his life-companion he had found the responsive being devoted to him in boundless veneration and sympathy, whose sentiments were a perfect echo, clearer usually than the original sound, of his thought and feeling. And as she took part in his soul-life, so she shared in his intellectual plans. She made her husband’s scientific interests her own, and in his scholarly research afforded him the efficient help of a careful assistant.

The new principal began his work in Lundenburg on October 15 with zeal and love for his task--he superintended, classified, taught, and delivered solemn addresses. Apparently success was not lacking, for he met with encouraging applause. In the shelter of his modest but happy home, he resumed his literary plans and work. While preparing his Nikolsburg lectures, he had gathered together an abundance of material on the Talmudic era, which he now meant to put to use.

Before long, however, gray clouds cast a shadow on his idyllic condition. The relation between him and Hirsch almost suffered an open breach. When the newly married couple came to Nikolsburg to pay their respects to him, Hirsch demanded that the young wife, in accordance with a Talmudic custom, cover her beautiful hair with a sort of wig, called _Scheitel_. She resisted the bidding politely but firmly, with the pride of an offended woman. Graetz upheld his wife energetically, and the two parties separated little pleased with each other. The low-hanging mist apt to develop in the atmosphere of narrow, undisciplined Ghetto life, particularly in a small Austrian community, was more oppressive even and harder to bear. The Lundenburg rabbi, a narrow-minded Talmudist, who feared to have his fame overshadowed by Graetz’s, now and again asserted his official superiority unpleasantly. Small town rivalries were fomented to annoy the notabilities of the congregation by means of attacks upon the measures and the men they favored. Such conditions made Graetz feel by their hidden venom that unmixed joy is the portion of no mortal, least of all of the principal of an Austrian communal school. Denunciations of him were again rife. Those before the district court representing him as a democrat incarnate were particularly troublesome. Happily the charges were dismissed without in the least injuring him.

The year 1851 heightened his happiness; it brought him the joys of fatherhood. A daughter was born to him, the only one in a family of five children. His relation to her was always peculiarly close and affectionate. In the same year Zacharias Frankel re-entered the theologic arena with a monthly journal, which, unlike his earlier venture, the _Zeitschrift_, was to be devoted first and foremost to scientific interests. Graetz received a most honorable invitation to become a contributor, and he gladly ranged himself under Frankel’s banner. In quick succession he published in the first year of the “Monthly Journal for the History and Science of Judaism”[28] (October, 1851-December, 1852) a series of historical monographs: “Jewish Historical Studies;”[29] a review of Rapoport’s Encyclopedia; “Talmudic Chronology and Topography;”[30] and “The Removable Highpriests of the Second Temple Period”[31]--all of which evinced great erudition, clear grasp of the subject, and mature judgment. They are of the nature of special studies in preparation and as a foundation for a connected account of the events from the downfall of the Jewish state until the completion of the Talmud. He had long cherished the idea of such a work, and he now reduced it to writing with great rapidity.

In the meantime, in the course of the year 1852, the complexion of the district court seems to have changed, or the wind was blowing from another quarter; at all events, Graetz suddenly and with painful surprise became aware that unceasing intrigues and malicious denunciations had at last taken effect upon the district governor. He found himself exposed to serious annoyances and humiliations. No effort to ward them off promising success, he resigned his position at Lundenburg.

He felt impelled to return to his native Prussia, and determined to remove to Berlin with his family. The decision was inspired by the hope of easily finding in the capital a publisher for his history of the Talmudic epoch, which was almost ready for the press. He was furthermore actuated by the consideration, that in the prosecution of the plan of writing a complete history of the Jews, already taking shape in his mind, he could not well do without the libraries to be found only in large cities. In the latter half of September, 1852, he arrived in Berlin, and was kindly received by Dr. Michael Sachs and other friends willing to serve him. Through Dr. Sachs he became acquainted with the excellent Dr. Veit, who undertook the publication of his work. During the winter _semester_ 1852-53 the directors of the Berlin congregation invited him to deliver, for a honorarium, a number of historical lectures before students of Jewish theology, in a course in which the other speakers were Zunz and Sachs. His lectures were received with approval.[32] At the close of one of them, delivered in the middle of February, he was approached by Joseph Lehmann, railway director and editor of a journal in good standing, “Magazine for Foreign Literature,”[33] a man justly enjoying high respect. Acting under the instructions of the Board of Curators of the Fränkel Bequests in Breslau, Lehmann asked Graetz, whether he would be disposed to become a member of the faculty of the rabbinical seminary to be established at Breslau. At the same time he told him, that negotiations with Dr. Frankel, Chief Rabbi of Dresden, were pending with regard to the directorship, and that Frankel, among other conditions of his acceptance, had demanded Graetz’s engagement as teacher. The Board of Curators had assented cheerfully, and now desired Graetz’s answer. Graetz made his consent dependent upon Frankel’s final, favorable decision, which was received soon after. These preliminaries over, the troublesome discussions on the organization of the seminary began. In the first place, no model or scheme whatsoever existed that might serve as a guide in the organization of a rabbinical academy, with regard to such matters as the time-schedule, the curriculum, and the choice of subjects. Its creation was pioneer work, in furtherance of which there was no available experience; yet the arrangements determined upon under such peculiar circumstances were to bear within themselves the guarantee of practical and immediate success. Besides, the will of the founder, Jonas Fränkel, contained certain clauses, the execution of which, in view of the changed times, might become a menace to the new institution.[34] The plan, curriculum, and methods of the future seminary were determined by Zacharias Frankel alone, who recognized the aim to be pursued with clearness and practical insight, and so created the basis for the Jewish theology of the present. His wish to secure a professionally trained man, whose assistance might be freely drawn upon by himself and the Board of Curators, was all the more willingly complied with, as from many considerations an intermediary between the business and the pedagogic heads seemed not superfluous. Frankel had parted from Dresden with a heavy heart, and was inclined to seize the first fairly just pretense to recall his word to the Curators. Thus it came about that Graetz entered the service of the projected seminary on July 1, 1853, with the assurance of being employed, under Frankel’s directorship, as one of the principal teachers,[35] in case the statutes and the plans for the institution met with governmental approval, which seemed not at all doubtful.

V.

THE MASTER HISTORIAN.

At the same time Graetz’s book issued from the press under the title: “History of the Jews from the Downfall of the Jewish State to the Completion of the Talmud.”[36] This was really the sub-title. The chief title-page ran as follows: “History of the Jews from the Earliest Times until the Present Day. Volume IV,”[37] indicating that the author had conceived more than the first sketchy plan of a complete history of the Jews, and that the publication of the fourth volume first was merely an accident in the order of production. Beginning with the account of the Talmudic time turned out a happy hit. If the two literary events admit of comparison, Graetz’s first important work has its only counterpart in the biography of Rashi, with which Zunz, the creator of the science of Judaism, inaugurated his notable activity. The enthusiasm of Zunz’s contemporaries is said to have been kindled when Rashi, the eminent interpreter of Bible and Talmud, familiar to them from their childhood days, and esteemed an indispensable guide and companion in exegesis, appeared to them divested of the vaporous halo of supernatural glory, and translated into the sphere of human reality. Similarly the effect was electrifying when a flood of brilliant light suddenly scattered the mist of the dark epoch in which Mishna and Talmud, the authoritative books of post-Biblical Judaism, were composed, and revealed to sight life-size the rabbi-authors of those works, whose names and maxims were matter of common knowledge. The pen of our historian had charmed them out of the unreality of their existence. They had been habitually looked upon as abstractions, doctrines incarnate. Not much more had been known of them than that they had said, asked, and sometimes wailed. At best, people had been inclined to imagine them a sort of Kabbalists or Polish itinerant rabbis. Now it was seen that hot blood and throbbing life pulsated in their veins. Their clear-cut, mental features with their characteristic excellencies and shortcomings distinguished one from the other. They stood before the reader in checkered array, true knights by the grace of intellect, antique figures, glowing with patriotism, of inflexible will and indestructible faith. With equal vividness the author depicted the spiritual atmosphere of the time with its humors, passions, fermentation, and struggles; the surging and seething of ideas, factions, opinions, and aims in wild disorder and violent opposition to one another; and the final evolution of the impelling forces which determine the course of historical events by the exchange of thrust and counterthrust. Graetz wanted to make the heart-beat of the period perceptible to the senses. Therefore, he was little concerned about the technical correctness of his style and diction. He did not shrink from brusqueness in words, nor from luridness and voluptuousness in coloring. Without regard to sensitive feelings he chose the plainest, the most striking expressions, that he might be understood by all; that no doubt as to his opinion might suggest itself; that personages and events might appear upon the canvas in a clear light and in the proper position, as they were mirrored in his mind.

The book naturally aroused a great sensation upon its appearance. It at once created an audience for itself with which it found a rich measure of favor and applause. On the other hand, most of the author’s scholarly colleagues at first reserved their opinions. They were taken aback by the new data, which--as, for instance, the formation of Christian sects--had been boldly pressed into service to complete the picture, and they could not reconcile themselves to the description of ancient conditions by means of modern catchwords and turns of expression peculiar to the lighter forms of literature. For example, Graetz characterizes Nachum of Gimso, in whose life mishap after mishap redounded to his benefit, as the Candide[38] of the Tanaitic world of legend. He seeks to reconstruct the details of the Bar-Cochba revolt, the chapter on which is one of the most beautiful and touching in his “History,” from single names and widely scattered debris. He goes so far as to speak of two lines of defense, the Esdraelon line and the Tur-Malka line.[39] He charges the eminent teacher Judah ha-Nassi with irritability and sensitiveness.[40] Relying on Talmudic accounts, he refuses to credit the Romans with a civilizing mission in Asia, and describes their influence in Western Asia in particular as destructive of culture and detrimental to morality. Such features of the work confounded the critics and judges. They did not venture to decide whether the boldness of genial originality was asserting itself, or only the uncouthness of fantastic sensationalism, whose tinsel would not stand the test of time. Moreover, the two religious parties looked askance and with dissatisfaction at a book written to serve the truth only and not available for any sort of propaganda. Loud and public quarrel between them had ceased in the face of the world-stirring events of 1848 and their consequences, but they were as sharply divided as ever. The adherents of the reform party reproached the author with having glorified the Talmud and its teachers, and with having omitted to touch in “a single word”[41] upon the sorest spot, “the petrifaction and ossification of Judaism” brought about by the code and its exponents. The rigidly orthodox, on the other hand, were incensed at the criticism, unwarranted in their eyes, to which he subjected the bearers of tradition and at his effort to prove the body of traditional doctrine the product of historical processes.[42]

But no voice dissented from the opinion, that in Graetz Jewish science had gained an eminent promoter with astonishing scholarship at his disposal. His qualifications and achievements were too extraordinary to be belittled on account of the unavoidable errors that had slipped into his history. It could not be denied, that research had received a decided impetus, and that the sum of historical knowledge had been considerably increased by Graetz’s results, which he had obtained by his mastery over the two Talmuds and the Midrash literature; by his close acquaintance with patristic works; by his effective way of bringing these two widely separated literary spheres close to each other, permitting the one to shed light on the other, and thus clearing up critical points; by his happy gift first of discerning, in spite of the rectification they frequently stood in need of, that certain data scattered over various by-paths of literature were complementary, and then of combining them with each other; and by his acuteness in detecting with unerring glance, animating with spirit, and applying to good purpose, long disused geographical names and obsolete terms lying forgotten in some dark corner and buried under debris.[43] In view of the fact that it required rare courage to venture upon the elaboration of one of the obscurest and most difficult portions of Jewish history, thoroughly neglected at that time in the way of special research and monographs, even his opponents could “not help confessing that on the whole he had fulfilled his task satisfactorily.”[44] There was evidence, to be sure, of still higher courage in Graetz’s announcement, made without fear or diffidence, on the title-page and in the preface of his book, designated as the fourth volume, that he intended to publish a complete history of the Jews, written in the same spirit of critical research and in the same style. The promise gave occasion for ironical insinuations. How could a single individual hope to accomplish so great an undertaking? Was Graetz endowed with the creative, plastic power of the genuine historian? Or, perhaps he expected to obtain the laurels of the historian on credit!

On the whole, circumstances shaped themselves in a way favorable to him, and facilitated the execution of his bold undertaking. It should not be imagined that a community, or--still more extravagant idea--a Mæcenas offered to furnish him with the means indispensable for the accomplishment of a task such as he had set himself. Brilliant as his achievement was, how much greater it might have been, if he, with his genius for work, had been put in a position to examine and use at his leisure the manuscript treasures of the various European libraries! Up to the present day such good fortune has not befallen Jewish science. It seems as though the Jewish race, endowed with an understanding heart and an open hand for humane interests in general, has not yet awakened to a full recognition of the debt of honor it owes its own past. Graetz, however, was well content to be relieved of the irksome care for his daily bread by the ratification, on April 10, 1854, on the part of the Prussian government, of the statutes, the plan, and the teaching staff of the Rabbinical Seminary. He returned to Breslau, where his literary star had first risen, and where he had once tried vainly to establish himself permanently. Thenceforth he remained there in the congenial position of a regularly appointed teacher at the first Jewish theologic institution, which was inaugurated, with Z. Frankel as director, on August 10, 1854, under the name of “The Jewish Theological Seminary founded by Fränkel.”[45]