The disruption and final partition of the Polish
kingdom by its three neighboring states occurred
in 1795. With its dissolution a new era began in
the history of the numerous Jewish communities in
that part of the Polish territory which passed under
Prussian and Austrian sovereignty. The event
that thus ushered them into the world of Western
civilization may justly be considered as marking for
them the transition from the middle ages to modern
times. Prussia allowed no interval to elapse between
the act of taking possession of her newly
acquired domain and its organization. It was incorporated
into the state as the provinces of South
Prussia and New East Prussia. But after 1815
the Prussian crown remained in possession only of
the Grand Duchy, or the Province, of Posen, the
district that had constituted the kernel of Great
Poland. This piece of land was of extreme importance
to the Jews, being the home of the most
numerous, the oldest, and the most respectable
congregations. It was situated at only a short
distance from the Prussian capital, to which it appeared
to have been brought still nearer by the
organic connection established with the older parts
of the state. It was natural to expect that, in consequence
of the political union, the economic relations
with Berlin, always close, would become more
intimate and more numerous, and would develop
new business advantages. On the other hand, the
capital was viewed with distrust as the home of the
movement radiating from Mendelssohn and his
school, which aimed at something beyond the one-sided
Talmud study then prevalent, and strove to
bring modern methods of education and modern
science within reach of the younger generation.
The rigorous system of organization by which
the Polish districts were placed upon a Prussian
basis induced so radical a transformation of all the
relations of life that the Jews experienced great difficulty
in adjusting themselves to the new order of
things. Opposition to the state authorities and the
economic conditions was futile; there was nothing
for it but to try to adapt oneself without ado. By
way of compensation, the efforts to keep religious
practices and traditional customs pure, untouched
by alien and suspicious influences, in the grooves
worn by ancient habit, were all the more strenuous.
Talmudic literature was to continue to be the center
and aim of all study and science, and religious
forms, or habits regarded as religious forms, were
not to lose an iota of their rigidity and predominance.
The urgent charge of the Prussian government
to provide properly equipped schools to
instruct and educate the young in a manner in
keeping with the spirit of the times was evaded,
now by subterfuges, now by promises. But in the
long run the influences of the age could not fail to
make themselves felt. Sparks from the hearth of
the emancipation movement were carried into the
Province, and burst into flame in one of the great
congregations, that of the city of Posen, particularly
proud and jealous of the Talmudic renown and
the hoary piety of its Ghetto.
The position of rabbi in Posen had become
vacant, and in 1802 it was proposed to fill it with
Samuel ben Moses Pinchas from distant Tarnopol,
the brother of the deceased rabbi. He was the
author of בית שמואל אחרון {Hebrew: Beyt Shmuel Acharon}, and an arch-Talmudist of
the old stamp. Under the shelter of assumed
names, a number of the younger men ventured to
send the government a protest against the choice
of an “uncouth Polack.” It was alleged that the
mass of the people favored him on account of
“the Kabbalistic fable which constructs a genealogy for this Podolian
that makes it appear that he belongs to the stock from which
the Jewish Messiah is to spring, etc.”
The government took the petition into consideration,
and so informed the signers. On account of
the fictitious names the answer went astray. Instead
of reaching the petitioners, it fell into the
hands of the directors of the congregation and into
those of the deputy rabbis, the B’ne Yeshiba.
“They immediately assembled all so-called scholars and Talmud
disciples after the manner of the ancient Synhedrin, and invited
the parents, parents-in-law, and relatives of all persons suspected
of harboring heterodox ideas. Then they summoned each of us
singly, put him into the center of a terrifying circle of rough
students, and upbraided him in the following words, accompanied
by the most awful curses: ‘Thou devilish soul that hast vowed
thyself unto Satan! Thy appearance gives evidence of thy antipathy
to our statutes; thy shaved beard, thy apparel (thy Jewish garb is
only a sham), everything proves thee, thou impious one, a betrayer
of Jewish mysteries to Christians. Thou readest German books.
Instead of holy Talmud folios, thou keepest maps, journals, and
other heathenish writings concealed in thy attic. Therefore, confess
thy sin, that thou art one of the authors of the accursed memorial!
Do penance as we shall direct. Deliver up to us thy unclean books
immediately. Subscribe without delay to this sacred election of our
rabbi; else, etc., etc.’”1
The hotly contested election of the rigidly Talmudic
yet none the less gentle rabbi was carried,
but no effort availed to check the spread of the new
spirit. Steadily though slowly modern views gained
the upper hand, and in 1816 a Jewish private school
of somewhat advanced standing was successfully
established in Posen. Now and again men of independent
fortune mustered up courage to send their
children to the Gymnasium or to the higher Christian
schools, of which, to be sure, not a large number
existed at the time. In 1824 the state interfered,
and ordered the establishment of German
elementary schools in all the Jewish communities
of the Province giving evidence of vitality. The
situation now assumed a peculiar aspect. General
culture, acquaintance with the classic literature of
Germany, France, and England, came to be esteemed
an accomplishment and a personal charm;
yet beyond the three R’s the rising generation was
not given the opportunity of acquiring a general
education. On the contrary, the desire was to
limit study to that of rabbinic and Hebrew
writings. In the larger communities, like Posen
and Lissa, the centers of Talmud study, a conscious
effort was made to frighten off young people,
especially Talmud disciples, from the acquisition of
secular culture. It should be mentioned, however,
that in many of the smaller communities the longing
for education was encouraged as much as
possible. So it came about that the highly endowed,
ambitious spirits of that generation in the
Province had to struggle most bitterly and painfully
to make headway. But their hardships were counterbalanced
by the advantages they derived from
the conflict. Their intellectual energy and self-reliance
came forth from the contest steeled. Impregnated
as almost all of them were with the
spirit of the Talmud, they had pierced to its essence,
and, filled with enthusiasm for the rabbinical
heroes, they had breathed in devotion to the ideals
of Judaism.
This was the soil upon which Heinrich Graetz
grew up, and such were the conditions and agencies
moulding the development of a man destined to
create an historical work, at once monumental and
popular; embracing thousands of years, the most
widely separated regions, and the most diversified
fields of human activity; retracing with all the
resources of learning and ingenuity the magic,
faded, illegible characters of the evolution of Judaism,
and illuminating them with colors of fairy-like
brilliance;--an historical work, which, by reason of
the warmth of its narrative style, has come to be a
book of edification, in the best sense of the word,
unto the author’s brethren-in-faith.
Heinrich Hirsch Graetz was born October 31
(Cheshwan 21), 1817, in Xions (pronounced Kshons),
a wretched little village of 775 inhabitants in the
eastern part of the Province of Posen. In a family
of two brothers and one sister he was the first-born.
His father, Jacob Graetz, was a man of tall
stature, who, dying in 1876, reached an age of over
ninety years. His mother, Vogel, of the family of
Hirsch of Wollstein, was of average height and
robust physique, with lustrous gray eyes. She died
in 1848 only fifty odd years old. To her the son
showed most resemblance, both spiritually and
physically. A little butcher-shop yielded them an
honest but paltry livelihood. In the hope of improving
their material condition, the family removed to
Zerkow, a few miles off, some years after Heinrich’s
birth. At the time the village contained not more
than 800 inhabitants, among them a single person
able to read, a real estate owner, to whom all letters
were carried to be deciphered on the open
street in solemn public assembly.2 But the Jewish
congregation consisted of one hundred members,
and a remarkable increase in the population of the
little town seemed to give fair promise of a prosperous
future. It is worthy of mention, besides,
that the scenery of Zerkow, wreathed round with
hill and stream, forest and meadow, is not so flat
and unattractive as that of most parts of the Province.
Here the boy received his first impressions, and
here he enjoyed his first instruction in a school distinguishable
from a genuine Cheder only inasmuch
as it began in a measure to accommodate itself to
the modest demands made by the government upon
a Jewish primary school. He was taught reading,
writing, ciphering, and the translation of the Bible.
Great love of study and marked talent became apparent
in him; he was therefore introduced to a
knowledge of Hebrew and the Talmud. When he
was confirmed at thirteen, the age at which the
boys of that period were in the habit of deciding
definitely on their careers, his parents did not for a
moment question the propriety of continuing their
son’s intellectual training. It would have been
most natural to send him to Posen, where a popular
Talmud school was flourishing under the direction
of the highly esteemed Chief Rabbi Akiba Eger.
But his parents’ means were too slender to suffice
for his maintenance, and shyness and pride prevented
young Graetz from making his way after
the fashion of beggar students. There was but one
course, to send him to Wollstein, where his mother
had sisters and other relatives. Though by no
means possessed of great wealth, they were willing
to give him assistance. The Wollstein sojourn
proved eminently favorable to his development.
The town, situated in the western part of the Province,
was not destitute of natural charms, to which
the boy’s impressionable mind eagerly responded.
The population, chiefly German, numbered 2258
persons, among them 841 Jews,3 by no means an
inconsiderable congregation. Besides, it was in
fairly comfortable circumstances. It had always
taken pride in maintaining a Talmud school, which,
at the time of Graetz’s advent, was distinguished
for the liberal, enlightened spirit pervading it and
the active encouragement accorded its students in
their desire for culture. Rumor had it that the
rabbi, Samuel Samwel Munk, who had been called
from Bojanowo to Wollstein at the beginning of
the century, knew how to read and write German,
and was in the habit of reading German books and
even journals in the hours that are “neither day
nor night.” At all events, he did not put obstacles
in their way, when his disciples, spurring each other
on in the impetuous rivalry of youth for pre-eminence,
sought to slake their thirst for secular knowledge.
Graetz arrived in Wollstein at the end of the
summer of 1831, fourteen years old. At that
youthful age, the Bachur had ventured to undertake,
in a Hebrew far from perfect, it must be confessed,
a work on the calendar entitled, “חשבון העתים {Hebrew: Cheshbon Ha’itim},
Jewish and German Chronology.”4 He was a zealous
attendant upon the rabbi’s Talmudic lectures,
and derived great profit from them. His teacher
conceived a lively and kind interest in him, as well
as a high opinion of his ability, though he did not
suspect his future eminence. Rabbinic studies did
not occupy his mind to the exclusion of other pursuits.
Inextinguishable thirst for knowledge had
taken possession of him, and all books that fell in
his way were read with avidity. Most of the available
literature consisted of romances of chivalry,
of the kind in vogue at that time. Among them
“Raspo of Felseneck,” now completely forgotten,
made a particularly deep impression upon him.
Reproved by one of his patrons, and provided with
more suitable books by him, he read with keen
enjoyment Campe’s narrative and moral writings.
At the same time historical books began to attract
him strongly. Though he had to confess to himself,
somewhat crestfallen, that he did not understand
the greater part of what he read in them, he studied
Bredow’s short compendium of universal history,
Becker’s large work on the same subject, and a
biography of Napoleon. He soon realized the
necessity of acquiring Latin and French. Without
teacher, without guidance, without counsel other than
that afforded by like-minded companions, he devoted
himself to Meidinger’s French grammar and later to
Bröder’s Latin grammar, until he had gotten all
between their covers by heart. He was overjoyed
when he could begin to read the classic writers of
foreign countries in their own languages. In his
zeal, he permitted himself to be governed by chance.
Whatever fortune played into his hands, he grasped
at with instantaneous ardor, and pursued with
sporadic industry. He picks up a translation of
Euclid, for instance. At once he devotes himself to
it heart and soul, difficult though he finds it to gain
a clear notion of geometric concepts and methods.
An itinerant rabbi from Poland, offering his own
commentary upon the Book of Job for sale, comes
to Wollstein, and meets with appreciation and
respect. Reason enough for the enthusiastic and
ambitious Talmud disciple to take interest in nothing
but Bible exegesis and Hebrew grammar for
months thereafter. Keen, discriminating love of
nature, to whose attractions he remained susceptible
until his last days, develops in him. He
spares no effort to acquaint himself with the flora of
his native province and with the mysteries of the
starry heavens. Success was a foregone conclusion
with one whose equipment consisted of miraculously
quick comprehension, a retentive memory, and industry
oblivious of all but its object; coupled with
an iron constitution and indestructible working
powers, not in the least impaired by lack of food and
sleep.
Despite his modest demands, he constantly had
to battle against want and distress. His nature
was proud, self-reliant, and, it must be admitted,
unpractical. An exaggerated sense of honor forbade
his seeking help even when a petition would
have been justified. He preferred to conceal his
troubles. For example, he ate dry bread on many
a Sabbath, a day on which it was considered a privilege
to entertain Talmud disciples. Regardless of
wind and weather, he would slip off into the country,
a book in his pocket, in order not to reveal his helpless
condition. Finally, in spite of his secretiveness,
some friend or other discovered his plight, and
found ways and means of relieving his distress. Of
sanguine temperament, he sought and found consolation
in books. Graetz managed to read and study
an amazing quantity in the four years and a half of
his Wollstein sojourn. His most determined efforts
were applied to the acquisition of the French language
and literature, his favorite studies, at that
time ranking high in the scale of accomplishments.
The more important works of Fénelon, Voltaire,
Rousseau, and others, and the dramas of Racine and
Victor Hugo he knew thoroughly. He had read
Lessing, Mendelssohn, Schiller, and other classic
writers of Germany, and was attracted particularly to
Wieland, to whose works he devoted earnest attention.
It is curious that the diary which he then kept
does not contain a single reference to Goethe, as if by
chance or for some reason he had remained in ignorance
of the great poet’s works. On the other
hand, he became acquainted towards the end of the
Wollstein period with the writings of Börne, Heine,
and Saphir, which vivified the proneness to irony and
satire dormant in him. The Latin authors gave him
most trouble. Yet he mastered Cornelius Nepos,
Curtius, and several books of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
and of Virgil’s Æneid. That he accomplished
extensive reading of rabbinic literature at
the same time, and did not neglect his Talmudic
studies, is attested by the distinction with which
Rabbi Munk honored Graetz, much to his surprise.
At New Year 5595 (October, 1834), he was invested
with the title Chaber, a degree conferred only upon
most worthy and most rarely endowed Talmud
disciples of his youthful age.
But now fermentation set in, and white flakes
began to rise to the surface of the young wine.
Wholly self-taught, he had devoted himself to reading
without plan or method, following blind chance
or humoring his whims. In this way he had laid up
a store of knowledge, promiscuous as well as rich.
A chaotic mixture of irreconcilable, disparate ideas
and opinions surged through his head, and excited
tumultuous commotion in his world of thought and
feeling. In November, 1835, the following entry
was written in his diary:
“By the various contradictory ideas that perplexed my brain--heathen,
Jewish, and Christian, Epicurean, Kabbalistic, Maimonidian,
and Platonic--my faith was made so insecure that, when a notion
concerning God, eternity, time, or the like, assailed me, I wished
myself into the abyss of the nether world.”
Although his humor and his opinions were somewhat
unsettled, he by no means had drifted from
his moorings. The existence of God and the immortality
of the soul were the fixed poles of his
emotional world to which he clung. Another entry
a little further on in his diary says:
“Like furies such thoughts tugged at my heart-strings, when, as
often happened, they arose, suggested by my poverty as well as by
certain classes of books. Only the clear, star-studded sky, upon
which my eyes were wont to rest with delight on Saturday evenings
after sundown, renewed the blessed comforting consciousness in me:
Yes, there is a God beyond the starry canopy!”
On the other hand, he began to chafe against the
daily religious practices of Judaism, which he had
always observed with scrupulous conscientiousness,
as he had been taught to do. Even then he did
not neglect them, but he was offended by the multiplicity
of ceremonies and still more by the petty,
poor-spirited, unæsthetic manner in which the people
among whom he lived observed them. They no
longer were religious observances; they were
habits. Attributing the responsibility for these
conditions to the Talmud, he bore it ill-will. His
repugnance grew whenever he contrasted its style
and method with those of the great works of literature
with which he had recently become conversant.
Comparisons of this kind did not serve to enhance
the credit of the rabbinic collection with him.
There was another cause for irritation. Up to
that time he had lived, or rather studied, heedless
of practical concerns. Now his parents and relatives
were probably beginning to urge upon him
the necessity of considering the choice of a vocation
or of turning to professional studies. So just a
demand he could not disregard, especially in the
sensitive state of mind in which he then found
himself. Often he brooded over the question,
“What next?” and elaborated the most bizarre
plans only to reject them. A seemingly slight
incident occurred which quelled the commotion in his
breast. His craft, helplessly driving among perilous
crags, was guided into smooth waters by a little
book appearing just then under the title, “אגרת צפון {Hebrew: Igeret Tzafon},
Nineteen Letters on Judaism, published by Ben
Usiel.”5
The partisans of the reform movement, who proposed
to remodel or set aside religious customs
and traditional observances of historical Judaism as
incompatible with modern life, had up to that time
maintained the upper hand in the literary discussion
of religious affairs. They were exerting constantly
increasing attraction upon the younger generation,
and were growing bolder and more impetuous in
their propaganda for the obliteration, as far as possible,
of religious peculiarities. Bent upon the preservation
of old faith and custom unimpaired, their
opponents had at first refused to make any concession
whatsoever to the modern demands, and had
even failed to provide themselves with new weapons
of defense. When the movement assumed threatening
dimensions, the conservatives faced it unprepared
and impotent. Bewildered strangers in the
great world, habituated to the social forms of the
Ghetto, enmeshed in the web of Talmudic ideas,
they were wholly unable to put up an efficient
leader or regenerator. Suddenly that which had
long been painfully lacking seemed to incorporate
itself in a young theologian. In the above-mentioned
anonymous work, “Nineteen Letters,” Samson
Raphael Hirsch, rabbi at Oldenburg, championed
the undiminished value of all religious usages
with skill, eloquence, and intrepidity. His manner
held out the hope that he would breathe a new
spirit into the old forms. The boldness of the
work in frankly presenting this point of view with
all the consequences springing therefrom produced
the effect of a sensational occurrence upon the
Jewish public. Into the mind of Graetz, casting
about for an anchor for his disturbed feelings, it fell
like a flash of lightning, revealing the path to be
followed in the search for his ideals. He reports:
“Often I spoke of it [religious doubt] to B. B., the only one to
whom I could tell my thoughts on such subjects. Then he would
allege the urgent necessity for reforms in view of the gradual decay
of religion. But I realized, that reform, that is, the omission of a
number of laws organically interwoven with the rest, would abrogate
the whole Law. How delighted I therefore was with a new book,
‘אגרת צפון {Hebrew: Igeret Tzafon}, Nineteen Letters on Judaism, anonymous,’ in which
a view of Judaism I had never before heard or suspected was defended
with convincing arguments. Judaism was represented as
the best religion and as indispensable to the salvation of mankind.
With avidity I devoured every word. Disloyal though I had been
to the Talmud, this book reconciled me with it. I returned to it as
to a mistress deemed faithless and proved true, and determined to
use my utmost effort to pierce to its depths, acquire a philosophical
knowledge thereof, and, as many would have me believe that I
might become a so-called ‘rabbi-doctor of theology’ (studirter
Rabbiner), publicly demonstrate its truth and utility. I set about
my task at once, beginning with the first folio ברכות {Hebrew: Berachot} and the first
Book of Moses. I dwelt upon every point with pleasure, treating
them not as remnants of antiquity, but as books containing divine
help for mankind. My endeavor was materially advanced by the
knowledge I had acquired here, among other things of theology,
which only now I learned to esteem as a branch of science; of
geometry--I had studied nearly the whole of the first three books
of Euclid; and of history.”
After that he could not content himself with life
in Wollstein; the place had nothing more to offer
him. The resolution to quit the town, which had
grown into his heart as his second home, was facilitated
by the removal of an uncle, depriving him of
his strongest support; by the usual disappointment
and revulsion of feeling following the usual extravagance
of a youthful, fantastic love-affair; and by
conflicts with companions and patrons, caused to
some extent doubtless by the disharmonious state
of his mind and aggravated by tittle-tattle. But
whither was he to turn to satisfy the yearnings of
his soul? He decided on Prague, the Mecca of
the young Jewish theologians of the day, “a city
most famous for learning, hospitality, and other
virtues.”
Graetz left Wollstein in April, 1836, and went to
Zerkow to acquaint his parents with his intentions
and consult with them. Letters of recommendation
to families in Prague were obtained, and his
parents and other relatives made up a small purse
for him. Graetz secured a passport, packed his
modest belongings in a handbag, and set out on
his journey in high spirits. Partly afoot, partly by
stage when the fare was not forbidding, he made
his way to Breslau, and thence through the Silesian
mountains to the Austrian boundary, which he
reached not far from Reinerz. Here, though he
was fortified with a passport, the frontier inspector,
like a cherub with a flaming sword, opposed his
entrance into Austria. He was unable to produce
ten florins ($5) cash, the possession of which had
to be demonstrated by the traveler who would gain
admission to the land of the double eagle, unless
he came as a passenger in the mail-coach. Dismayed
our young wanderer resorted to parleying,
and appealed to his letters of recommendation. In
vain; the official would hear of no compromise.
Too proud and inflexible to have recourse to
entreaty or trickery, Graetz grimly faced about,
and much disheartened journeyed as he had come,
over the same road, back to Zerkow. His parents
were not a little astonished at his return, and
equally rejoiced to have their son with them for
some time longer. The adventure may be taken
as typical of the curious mishaps that befell him in
practical life, particularly at the beginning of his
career. They often cut him to the quick, but never
shook his belief in his lucky star. His originative
and impressionable nature carried with it the power
of discerning important points of view and valid
aims, but he seems to have been too far-sighted and
impetuous to lay due stress upon the means and
levers necessary for the attainment of ends.
For the moment he sought to drown remembrance
of his abortive journey in study. He became
absorbed in Latin works; he read Livy, Cicero’s
de natura deorum, which compelled his reverential
admiration, Virgil’s Æneid, and the comedies of
Terence. Besides, he busied himself with Schrökh’s
universal history and with his Wieland, whose “Sympathies,”
“Golden Mirror,” and other works “delighted,
refreshed, and fascinated” him “inexpressibly.”
The Talmud and Hebrew studies claimed no
less attention; he was especially zealous about the
exegesis of the Earlier Prophets. Downcast by
reason of the uncertainty of his future, and his
scorn piqued by the pettiness and narrow-mindedness
of his provincial surroundings, he found an
outlet for his restlessness in all sorts of wanton
pranks, such as high-spirited youths are apt to perpetrate
in their “storm and stress” period. He
ridiculed the rabbi, played tricks on the directors
of the congregation, annoyed the burgomaster,
always escaping unpunished, and even horrified his
parents by accesses of latitudinarianism, such as the
following. On the day before the eve of the Atonement
Day, it is a well-known custom for men to
swing a living rooster and for women to swing a
living hen several times about their heads. At the
same time a short prayer is recited, pleading that
the punishment due for the sins committed by the
petitioner be transferred to the devoted fowl. At
the approach of the holy season, Graetz announced
that he would certainly not comply with the Kapores
custom, but his words were taken to be idle boastfulness.
The fateful evening came, and the seriocomic
celebration was long delayed by the non-appearance
of the eldest son. The father’s wrath
was kindled, and he threatened to burn all books
other than Hebrew found in the possession of his
heretic offspring. The mother set out to search
everywhere for her erring son. When she finally
found him, he went home with her in affectionate
obedience, but nothing could induce him to manipulate
the rooster in the customary way. Unswung
and uncursed the bird had to be carried to the
butcher, and only on the following day a touching
reconciliation was effected.
After the Fast, a bookdealer at Wollstein, a
friend of his, who usually kept him informed about
new books on Jewish subjects, sent Graetz the
“Nineteen Letters by Ben Usiel,” which he had
longed to possess. The book again electrified him,
and he conceived the idea of offering himself as a
disciple to its author, whose identity had meantime
been revealed. Samson Raphael Hirsch appeared
to him to be the ideal of a Jewish theologian of the
time and of the confidence-inspiring teacher for
whom he had yearned, to obtain from him guidance
and, if possible, a solution of the manifold problems
occupying his mind. Accordingly, Graetz wrote to
the District Rabbi (Landesrabbiner) of Oldenburg.
He did not conceal his views, but clearly and frankly
laid bare the state of his feelings and the course
of his intellectual development. He was successful.
After a short time, Hirsch addressed the following
letter to him:
“My dear young Friend:--With pleasure I am ready to fulfill, as
far as in me lies, the wish expressed in your letter to me. You know
the sentence of our sages, יותר משעגל רוצה לינק הפרה רוצה להניק {Hebrew: Yoter mishe’egel rotzeh linak, haparah rotzah l’hanik},6 and
if, as I should gladly infer from your letter, the views therein expressed
are more than an evanescent mood; if it is your resolute determination
to study Torah for its own sake, you are most cordially
welcome, and I shall expect to see you after פסח הבע''ל {Hebrew: Pesach haba aleynu l’tovah}.7 But I have
one request to make. In the ardor of your feelings, you have conceived
an ideal picture of the author of the ‘Letters’ by far exceeding
the real man in size. Reduce the picture by half, by three-fourths,
indeed, and ask yourself whether you are still attracted by
it. Do not expect to find an accomplished master, but a student
occupied with research. If your heart still says yes, then come. I
should like to be informed as soon as possible, whether I may
expect you after Pessach, as I shall have to modify another relation
accordingly. Be kind enough, too, if you have no objection, to let
me know how you expect to support yourself here. I trust that you
will neither take umbrage at this question nor misconstrue it. It
was put only because I wanted to express my willingness to assist
you as much as I can during your stay here, if it should be necessary.
Therefore, I beg you to be as frank and unreserved in your
answer as I ventured to be in my question. With kindest regards,
etc.
Oldenburg, December 26, ’36.”
To this letter Graetz replied, that he did say
“yes” from the bottom of his heart; that it was
his dearest ambition to devote himself to genuine
Judaism and its doctrines; that he especially desired
to learn the methods of Talmud study, particularly
of the Halakha, pursued by a man whom he admired
profoundly; that as for his livelihood, the satisfaction
of the most elementary needs sufficed for him;
and that his parents would give him a small allowance.
In answer thereto, the formal invitation to come
to Oldenburg was extended by Hirsch on February
I, 1837. He offered Graetz board and lodging in
his own house, with the understanding that his
parents would provide for other needs, and he expected
his disciple after Passover (in May). Wishing
to visit relatives on the way and see the
sights of Berlin and Leipsic, Graetz set out as early
as the beginning of April. In Berlin the museum
and the picture-gallery made a deep impression
upon him. That he was a remarkably sharp observer
is shown in the following accurate characterization
of the preacher Solomon Plessner, with
whom he became acquainted in Berlin:
“This famous man I also visited, and I found attractive features
indicative of acuteness, but a neglected exterior and careless, ungrammatical
speech, not guiltless of the Jewish sing-song (mauscheln).
This surprises me, for his language in his sermons is pure
and choice. He is between forty and fifty years old, wears a beard,
and seems to be honestly and genuinely religious. But his manner
is excited; he speaks with rapid utterance, all the while running to
and fro and arranging his books absent-mindedly.”
In Leipsic he visited his countryman Fürst, concerning
whom he reports:
“A little man whose face was familiar to me from my childhood
days came towards me. I handed him the letter given me by his
mother. He said indifferently: I shall write in a few days. But
when I told him the goal and purpose of my journey, and showed
him the letters [from Hirsch], his attitude changed, and he talked
with me in a very friendly way. Finally, when he recognized that
I was not an ignoramus, he confided several matters to me, told me
about his scientific adversaries, and boasted that he had taught
Gesenius, that he had become reconciled with Ewald, that the
greatest scholars corresponded with him, etc.... Our conversation
grew more and more confidential, and finally we parted as friends.
He invited me to visit him again, if I changed my mind and staid
over פסח {Hebrew: Pesach}.... In case I did not remain, I had to promise that I
would enter into correspondence with him.... I was particularly
pleased to find, that Fürst has no intention of accepting baptism,
and that he means to promote the cause of Judaism.... To work
for Judaism, he says, is the prime obligation of every Jew that
devotes himself to study, by which he means strictly scientific, possibly
also philologic study.”
In order not to fritter away all his time while
traveling, Graetz began to study Greek, and the
Greek conjugations served to beguile dreary hours,
banishing remembrance of the mishaps that could
not fail to befall one with straitened means on so
long a journey, and counteracting the despondency
which in consequence often seized upon him. In a
miserable village, in which he was forced to spend
a whole day on account of the Sabbath, he found a
copy of the New Testament, and read it for the first
time. He describes the impression made upon him
by this first reading in the following words:
“Despite the many absurdities and inconsistencies, the mildness
of the character of Jesus attracted me; at the same time I was
repelled, so that I was altogether confused.”
On May 8, finally, he arrived in Oldenburg, where
a new world opened before him.
In Samson Raphael Hirsch he met a man whose
spiritual elevation and noble character compelled
his profound reverence, and who fully realized all
the expectations that he had harbored concerning
him. Hirsch was a man of modern culture, and
his manner was distinguished, even aristocratic,
although he kept aloof from all social intercourse.
He was short of stature, yet those who came in
contact with him were strongly impressed by his
external appearance, on account of his grave, dignified
demeanor, forbidding familiarity. With great
intellectual gifts and rare qualities of the heart, he
combined varied theological attainments and an
excellent classical education. Comprehensive or
deep ideas cannot be said to have been at his disposal,
but he scintillated with original observations
and suggestive sallies, which put his new pupil into
a fever of enthusiasm. He was the only teacher
from whom Graetz’s self-centered being received
scientific stimulation; perhaps the only man to
exercise, so far as the stubborn peculiarity of
Graetz’s nature permitted it, permanent influence
upon his reserved, independent character.
On his arrival in Oldenburg, the new-comer was
most kindly received by Hirsch, and was at once
installed in his house, of which thenceforth he was
an inmate. Instruction was begun on the very
next day. The forenoons were devoted to the
Talmud, the late afternoons to the Psalms. The
disciple was singularly attracted and stimulated,
fairly elevated by the brilliant, penetrating method
applied to the exegesis of these works. Plan, order,
and coherence were now imposed upon his scientific
acquirements. Hirsch took true fatherly interest
in his protegé; he exerted himself to discipline his
mind and fix his moral and religious standards. At
the same time, as though even then a suspicion of
the unusual force and talent of this youth panting
for knowledge and instruction had dawned upon
him, he guarded against assuming the airs of a
domineering pedagogue. Despite the difference
in age between them he treated him as an equal.
He was endowed with truly marvelous power to
stir his disciple’s soul-life to its depths. Every
chord of Graetz’s being was set in vibration, and
he solemnly vowed to remain a true son and an
honest adherent of Judaism under all circumstances.
Added years may have contributed to the result;
but at all events it is certain that Graetz developed
visibly under this master’s guidance.
The services required of him in the house of his
teacher were mainly those of an assistant. He
accompanied the District Rabbi on his tours of
inspection, the tedium of their journeys being relieved
with discussions on Talmudic and Biblical
subjects. He revised with Hirsch the last part of
the latter’s “Horeb,” helped him read the proof of
the last sheets of the book, which delighted and
thrilled the young man, and assisted him in various
similar ways. How flattering an opinion the punctilious
rabbi must have held of his assistant is
proved by the fact, that when he had to go to a
resort for the restoration of his undermined health,
he authorized him to render decisions on questions
of religious law (שאלות {Hebrew: Sh’eylot}) during his absence. The
assistant fulfilled his duties so conscientiously that
the responsibility oppressed him. He confessed
that he had imagined the rendering of correct decisions
much easier. His enthusiasm burst into
flame when he received the following affectionate
letter from Hirsch:
“My dear Graetz:--I still owe you cordial thanks for your kind
lines. I am delighted to hear that you are industrious, and that you
keep to my time-schedule so well. Continue to study, for I, on
my part, shall soon have forgotten how to study, and literally shall
have to begin to learn all over again. Before my departure, I
wanted to call your attention to something, and I do now what I
then forgot. I have frequently seen you read the works of Bayle.
They are a treasury of learning, and much information can be
derived from them, but the man takes peculiar pleasure in laying
stress upon דברי ערוה {Hebrew: Divrei ervah};8 things of that kind are טמא {Hebrew: tamei} and מטמא {Hebrew: M’tamei}9. Pass
lightly over such passages; they are unprofitable and harmful; read
only what is purely scientific. Follow my advice, etc., etc.”
Such friendly and tactful admonitions, permitting
the pupil to follow out his own bent, were always
employed by Hirsch, and they but served to enkindle
Graetz’s enthusiasm anew. In spite of the
young man’s critical propensities combined with a
sanguine temperament, his devoted attachment to
his master by no means waned under the strain of
daily intimate intercourse, not even when he could
no longer doubt his ideal’s lack of historic depth
and scientific, or rather philosophic insight. Graetz’s
nature strongly impelled him to form friendships,
and his attachments were fervent. He always felt
a lively interest in what went on about him, and
even at that early time he was fond of taking an
active part in shaping the occurrences of the day,
whenever he thought, that by assuming the rôle of
Providence he might be useful to his friends in the
ordering of their affairs--a disposition that redounded
later to the benefit of many of his pupils.
In January, 1837, for instance, the belated news
reached him from his home, with which he kept up
a steady correspondence, that the Chief Rabbi
Akiba Eger had died in Posen. Without being
commissioned to do so, he wrote to the directors
of the Posen congregation, and brought Hirsch,
whose yearning for a wide sphere of activity he
knew, to their notice. When the directors entered
into negotiations with Hirsch he broke out into
jubilation. In fact, a party favoring the pretensions
of the Oldenburg District Rabbi formed in Posen,
but nothing more resulted. The procedure was repeated
when the Wollstein rabbinate fell vacant in
1840, except that Hirsch, to his disciple’s great disappointment,
would not share Graetz’s enthusiasm
for Wollstein. From this it appears that Graetz
was not a recluse nor a bookworm. In Oldenburg,
as everywhere, he sought to meet people and cultivate
friendly intercourse with them, and his joyous
nature readily yielded to the innocent gayety of
social pleasures.
At the same time he neglected neither his duties
nor his studies. While with Hirsch he acquired the
English language, and finding some Syriac books
in the rabbi’s library, he began to devote himself to
Syriac. The study of the former language his master
seems to have encouraged, but not of the latter.
Hirsch met his disciple with uniform kindness, and
returned his enthusiastic devotion with fatherly
benevolence. Graetz was treated as a member of his
family. In the third year of his Oldenburg sojourn,
his relations with the mistress of the house
were disturbed by slight discords, such as cannot
fail to arise in long-continued, familiar intercourse,
and tend now to strengthen, now to abridge intimacy.
With Graetz’s proud sense of independence
they finally sufficed to ruffle the tranquillity of a soul
wholly absorbed by the present. Anxiety about
his future began to disquiet him. The desire to
decide definitely upon a career and the longing
to see his parents, who in the meantime had removed
from Zerkow to Kosten near Posen, a somewhat
larger town, united to make his departure from
Oldenburg seem advisable.
The adieux were said with touching cordiality,
and after an absence of more than three years
Graetz set his face homeward, and arrived in Kosten
in the middle of August, 1840. The younger
people everywhere received Hirsch’s disciple with
joyous welcome, and induced him to preach at Wollstein,
Kosten, and Zerkow. His sermons, to be
sure, did not transport his audiences with enthusiasm,
but they were ample guarantees of the
preacher’s fund of knowledge and originality. All
his friends, therefore, agreed, that it would be advisable
for Graetz to “study,” in the technical sense
of the German word, that is, go through the university
and obtain a degree. They adduced the
fact that the smaller congregations at least, such
as Wreschen, Wollstein, and Kosten, in part had
appointed “graduate rabbis” (studirte Rabbiner), in
part had resolved to fill their rabbinates with them.
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 canes13 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. Freund15 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.”
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.
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 Candide38 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
It must be looked upon as providential that the
task of first impressing the modern spirit upon the
theologic training for the rabbinical office fell to
the share of men of such eminent distinction as
Frankel, the director of the new institution, and
Graetz and Jacob Bernays, its regular teachers.
The personality of each of the three was strongly
marked. Each one was a homo trium litterarum,
in the sense that in subordination to his specialty,
he had acquired mastery over the Hebrew-rabbinic,
the classical, and the modern literature. By
deep and earnest thought each had arrived at a
conservative view of Judaism. Of the three, Jacob
Bernays,46 a scholar of far-reaching fame in classical
philology, doubtless possessed greatest ability as a
teacher, which, however, demanded talented pupils
for its effective exercise. Frankel’s forte lay in his
tact as an organizer and in his practical gifts; he
exerted wholesome authority over his disciples in
religious as well as scientific matters. Both desired
to impress their scientific bias upon those that came
under their influence. Graetz, on the other hand,
heeded the individuality of his pupils, and in his
activity as teacher had in mind especially their stimulation
and encouragement. Frankel was desirous
of transferring to the Theological Seminary the rigid
discipline and detailed supervision of an elementary
school,47 because his dearest object was to turn
out thorough Talmudists and professionally well-equipped
rabbis. Bernays aspired to the romantic
splendor of a theologic faculty, and wanted to
educate scholarly theologians. With correct and
healthy instinct, Graetz endeavored to reconcile
these opposite aims and identify the Seminary with
a middle course. Although Frankel grasped the
rudder with a firm hand, he was sensible enough to
consider prudent counsel and kindly enough to
give scope to the wishes and views of his colleagues.
In this way harmony prevailed among the Seminary
teachers, which reacted beneficially upon the students.
As long as he lived, Frankel justly maintained
what officially and morally was the dominant
position in the Seminary. The prosperity of the
institution he considered the consummation of his
life-work, and being childless, he regarded his pupils
as his children, and took a truly paternal interest in
their fortunes. Next to him Graetz exercised the
most generous hospitality towards the students.
He was ever ready to serve any one of them that
needed help and advice. Especially such as had
aroused his interest, or had impressed him favorably
with their ability and character enlisted his sympathy,
which he manifested with all the ardor of his
temperament. Like Frankel, he identified himself
completely with the Breslau Seminary. After many
thwarted plans and years of anxious uncertainty, he
felt that, at last, through his position as teacher at
the Seminary, his vessel had floated into deep,
navigable waters, that he could venture to ply the
oars with full force, unfurl all the sails, and, favored
by wind and weather and propelled by the buoyant
courage peculiar to his sanguine nature, steer
straight for the destination whither impulse drew
him. It was the first time that his official duties
coincided with his inner vocation. Faithful, zealous
performance of the service he was engaged to do
promoted the work he had set himself as the goal
of his life. In regular, uninterrupted succession,
volume after volume of his “History” now began
to appear in complete realization of his plan.
In 1856 the third volume was published under
the title, “History of the Jews from the Death of
Judas Maccabæus to the Downfall of the Jewish
State.”48 It formed the complement and justification
of his view of the Talmudic epoch, the one with
which he had begun as being the period “least understood
in its inner relations.” At the same time
the third volume distinctly bounds the spiritual territory
in which the Jewish history of the diaspora is
rooted. For he intended to dispose of the Jewish
history of the diaspora down to the present time
before beginning the account of the Biblical and the
early post-Biblical periods. Therefore, when he
published his fifth volume, “History of the Jews
from the Completion of the Talmud (500) to the
Beginnings of Jewish-Spanish Culture (1027),”49 he
had, as he said in the preface, “got back on the
right track.” Now every doubt was bound to
vanish; after many years a genuine historian had
arisen unto Judaism.
The historian must not be confounded with the
scholar. The chief tasks of the latter are the critical
examination of historical records, the determining
and grouping of facts, the identifying and differentiating
of persons, the demarcation of time and
place, and the defining and demonstrating of the
causal relation between events, their succession, and
their interaction. The minute details to which his
research happens to be devoted at any moment are
as important in his eyes as great and comprehensive
principles. Style, form, and manner, moreover,
are minor considerations with the scholar; he aims
only at accuracy and lucid presentation adapted to
the subject-matter. The demands made upon the
historian are more numerous and more exacting.
He must constantly carry the whole in mind, he
must have the ability to mould the historical material
with an artist’s creative power and restore the
faded features of the past by the life-bestowing word.
First of all, he must be equipped with unlimited
mastery over the existing material and with easy
and sure grasp of all the phases of the historical
process, in order to be able to estimate every phenomenon
duly, according to its intrinsic value and
its external effect, emphasize characteristic and significant
points, and allot to persons and events their
proper place in the historical succession. He cannot,
of course, dispense with the acumen that intuitively
arrives at the inwardness of every detail.
For it is needful, not only to determine with critical
penetration the trustworthiness of existing traditions
and documents, but also to discern and demonstrate,
as one traces the course of a stream
with its tributaries and branches, the presence of the
primal forces at work under the surface of things,
giving them impetus and direction, and of the factors
that impede, strengthen, or divert the action of these
forces. From investigations of this kind the historian
should derive the chief points of view, those
which grow naturally and logically out of the course
of events. The true historian must be endowed to
a high degree with a faculty for presaging, amounting
almost to divination, that he may, like a “backward-looking
prophet,” overcome the inadequacy
and incompleteness of the material transmitted to
him; restore the defective parts by means of his
plastic fancy; and everywhere recognize as well
as bring to the recognition of his readers, that
historical events in their connection are developments
from within outward, the outcome, not of
a game of chance, but of the workings of absolute
law. For such results of his research and insight
the historian must then find adequate expression.
His presentation of them must serve as the clear,
polished mirror reflecting the play of many-hued,
chaotic details in distinct and simply grouped pictures,
and permitting the peculiarities and characteristics
of single persons and events to be apparent,
as the warp and the woof are distinguishable
in the finished fabric. Real life as it throbbed in
the happenings of the past must stand renewed
before our eyes, and its fresh, warm breath as it
brushes us must constrain our souls to respond at
once to its humors and passions.
These qualities are the distinction of Graetz. By
reason of their possession and exercise he is a
master historian, and his art manifests itself in each
of the twelve comprehensive volumes in which he
has thrown light upon the history of the Jewish race
from its early beginning to the present, a period of
more than three thousand years, with every part of
the earth as the scene of its events. But we have
not yet come to the end of Graetz’s accomplishments
as an historian. The lack of special studies
in the province of Jewish history made his attempt
to write a history of the Jews appear untimely and
the prospect of successful execution slight. His
undertaking seemed to be opposed not only by
well-nigh insuperable inner and outer obstacles,
but also by stubborn prejudices. Graetz heeded
nothing of all this. Unaided by any committee
or corporation, simply by virtue of his exuberant
genius, he executed the apparently impossible work.
He created the history of their race for his brethren-in-faith,
and awakened in the general public sympathetic
interest in the past of Judaism. With bold
hand he ventured to brush aside the layer of dust
and mould encrusting the darkened portraits of the
past, and restore freshness and color to the faded,
pale contours and forms.
The most important particulars upon which the
value and influence of his work depend deserve
analysis.
Above all, Graetz, though he did not create it,
was the first to define and occupy the point of view
from which the historical development of Judaism
must be judged. He cleared the whole historical
field, so as to be able to examine the various phases
of this development with ease and accuracy. As
an historian, Graetz had had but a single predecessor50
who must be taken into account, Isaac Marcus
Jost. In 1820, the latter began to publish a “History
of the Israelites from the Time of the Maccabees.”51
Nine years later nine volumes had appeared, bringing
the history down to his own time. Under the
title, “Universal History of the Israelitish People,”52 he
published, in 1850, a two-volume epitome with corrections
and improvements, covering in addition the
period from Abraham to the Maccabees. He did
not prove himself a real pioneer in either work.
Jost was a scholar, but not an historian; a noble
man with admirable qualities, whose varied knowledge
gave a considerable impetus to Jewish historical
work, but he had not been singled out as the
proclaimer of an historical revelation to be spread
far and wide in joyful, vigorous utterance. In view
of the fact, however, that no monographs on special
phases of the subject existed at his time, Jost’s
achievement cannot be sufficiently admired. He
sought out and arranged the more or less obvious,
but widely scattered data, appraising their value
and assigning to each its due place. He thus produced
a manual for the chaos of confusing details
and facts. In respect to manner, his presentation
of the subject makes the impression of an herbarium.
His work consists of a collection of persons
and events, heaped up without reference to their
inner relations and classified only according to
superficial and accidental marks of resemblance.
His speculations are prosy, and do not touch the
essence of their subject. His style is dry, diffuse,
and monotonous, destitute of fire and force, with
nothing to indicate that the author had a lively
realization of the past. An admirer of the Roman
system and impregnated with Christian ideas, he was
unconsciously oppressed by the fear that he was
not abreast of the times, and dreaded the charge
of partiality if he gave due credit to Judaism and
Rabbinism. This accounts for his misrepresentation
of the Pharisees and their successors, the
Rabbis, and for his false, almost caricature-like
treatment of the Talmud and the literature depending
upon it. He felt that the consideration of
Judaism from the point of view of history at once
becomes a glorification thereof, and under no circumstances
did he care to incur the imputation of
being its apologist.53
Graetz entertained no such scruples. In the
formation of his opinions fear or timidity had no
part; they did not curtail the expression of his
judgment regardless of the feelings of friend or
foe. He was the first to divest himself wholly of
Christian prejudices in the consideration of the
Jewish past; the first to try to explain the development
of Judaism on inherent principles, as all
similar phenomena are explained. He was thus
able to distribute light and shade justly, without
any attempt to gloss or slur facts. Graetz had
been in Berlin but a short time when he met Zunz
at the house of Michael Sachs. The two visitors
had not yet made each other’s personal acquaintance.
The host presented Graetz, adding in praise
of him, that he was about to publish a Jewish history.
“Another history of the Jews?” Zunz asked
pointedly. “Another history,” was Graetz’s retort,
“but this time a Jewish history.”54 And, in truth,
Graetz was the first to vindicate the fair claims of
Jewish history; he did pioneer work in establishing
the validity of the Jewish point of view. Christianity
considers the belief in the Messiahship of
the Son of God and in the miracles reported in
connection with his birth and death the completion
and fulfillment of the Law of Moses and of the prophetical
promises. Only what springs from this
dogma can rise to a proper conception of God, to
the heights of true morality, and is capable of promoting
the advancement of civilization. Accordingly,
having begotten Christianity, Judaism fulfilled
its religious mission, and the loss of Jewish
national independence occurring almost simultaneously
with the rise of Christianity, its spiritual
importance was extinguished and its historical
progress arrested. Its development since then, it
is maintained, bears the marks of decrepitude and
degeneration--is nothing more than idolatry of the
Torah and religious formalism. To this consciously
or unconsciously biased view Graetz wished to oppose
a faithful presentation of facts, free from partiality,
personal predilections, or specious coloring. He
held, that an objective, unprejudiced account sufficed
to demonstrate the vitality of Judaism, asserting
itself again and again in the midst of distress
and persecution; continuing to develop its monotheistic
doctrines and its ethical system undisturbed
by the loss of a national background, and
borne onward only by virtue of its spirituality and
ideality; producing thinkers, poets, and even statesmen
despite untold suffering; and contributing
zealously to the solution of the problems of human
civilization, uprooted and dispersed though its adherents
were. This point of view Graetz assumed
energetically and applied consistently in the elaboration
of Jewish history, with the result that we owe
to him our conscious acquaintance with the various
aspects of Judaism in all their abundance and suggestiveness.
Besides making new sources available, Graetz
gained fresh points of view and surprising information
from the old ones. He was particularly successful
in restoring to Jewish accounts that had become
hazy or sounded incredible a freshly colored background
and life-like reality, or at least in laying bare
their kernel of fact, by the discovery of hardly recognizable
parallel passages and proofs in non-Jewish
authors. He sought everywhere, and was more or
less successful in finding and inserting in their
place, connecting links and complementary pieces.
When he approached his bold undertaking with the
courage inspired by enthusiasm, Jewish history was
a vast field of debris, over which volcanic events
had poured out their lava, and the centuries had
scattered their dust. Here and there a gigantic
ruin, some literary production, towered in solitude
over the wide stretches of the pathless, dismal
waste, the only guide-posts to direct the wanderer
through the labyrinth of ruins and underbrush. The
great creators of Jewish science, to be sure, Zunz
and Rapoport, whose extraordinary deserts are not
yet duly appreciated by their brethren-in-faith, had
already given the world their excellent works of
fundamental importance; yet the great tracts explored
and made arable by them seemed no more
than smaller or larger islands in a vast sea of rubbish.
They did not afford vantage-ground from
which the whole could be overlooked. Rarely leaving
the domain of literary history, these scholars did not
lead up to the positions that dominated the field.
In this respect particularly Graetz proved himself a
pioneer. Whatever epoch he may be considering,
and however much he may seem to be absorbed in
details, he never takes his eye from the grand
whole. His purpose always is to clear a path
through the rank underbrush, or to trace on the
exposed surfaces of shattered remains the lines and
veins that indicate the essential character and the
trend of the historical process. He was endowed
with a number of qualities that enabled him to introduce
light, order, system, and classification into the
chaos of the historical material at his disposal.
With rare energy he plunged into the consideration
of vast systems of thought, and almost without an
effort assimilated and grouped them. In his learned
notes he opposes varying accounts, proofs, and hints
to one another, and with an adroit hand and a perspicacious
mind grasps the main idea firmly and unravels
the knotted thread. Finally, fear of error
did not deter him from taking a decided stand
towards events and persons and giving frank
and vigorous expression to his views upon them.
Let the reader examine the essays that serve as
introductions to certain parts of his work, as, for
instance, those in the fourth, fifth, and seventh volumes,
and he will appreciate the unerring eye that
espies and never loses from sight the motive ideas
and the dominating points of view, which not merely
are sketched in a general, comprehensive way, but
are applied in detail. His “History” affords numerous
illustrations of the way in which Graetz promoted
and enriched historical research. For example,
Saadiah Gaon had been discovered, as it
were, by Rapoport, and Geiger had made valuable
contributions to our knowledge of him, but the
chapter about him in the “History”55 first fully revealed
his epoch-making importance and his rich
literary activity. Graetz was the first to recognize
and appreciate the notable influence exerted by
Chasdaï Crescas56 upon philosophy and social conditions.
The great Disputation of Tortosa, of
which we have a trustworthy Jewish account, was
nevertheless not understood in its historical bearing
and political effect until Graetz ingeniously confronted
the Jewish source with Christian reports.57
The cloud of legend enveloping the enthusiasts
David Reubeni and Solomon Molcho,58 whom students
were inclined to regard as no more than hallucinations
or phantasmagoria, he resolved into the reality
of their fantastic adventures. In short, coupled with
rare sagacity in perceiving the true meaning of a
mutilated text and emending it accordingly, he had
a remarkable instinct for piercing to the reality of
facts, no matter how grotesque they might appear.
Such endowments qualified Graetz to translate
the Talmudic method of thought and expression into
the terms of modern feelings and views, and give a
model illustration of the critical examination of the
literature of Talmudic times and its use as a valuable
historical source. Non-Jewish scholars and
sciolists were quick to brand the apparently unintelligible
or the curious passages abounding in
rabbinic literature as evidences of Talmudic ignorance
or rabbinic folly, and the Jews of the emancipation
period, if they did not subscribe to this
verdict, at least hesitated whether or not to endorse
it. Graetz showed plainly that precisely the text of
the historical narratives had become wretchedly corrupted
and would have to be restored. Besides, he
called attention to various features of the historical
tradition as told by the rabbis. Either they were
treated pragmatically, with their causes and results,
or their presentation was intentionally biased, or
layers of legend had deposited themselves about the
kernel of fact, which awaited release from its envelopes.
Over and above all this, he urged that the
concrete, figurative expressions of the rabbis, derived
from a sphere of thought foreign to us, must be translated
into modern concepts. For instance, in an
ancient rabbinic chronicle, the Seder olam rabba, it is
reported that the war of Vespasian is separated from
that of Titus by an interval of twenty-two years.
Aside from the consideration that it is neither historical
nor justifiable to distinguish between a war
of Vespasian and a war of Titus, it is impossible to
give a satisfactory explanation of the period of
twenty-two years. The same incomprehensible
distinction between Vespasian’s and Titus’ war
occurs in the Mishna at the end of the tractate Sota.
Graetz changed a single letter, ט {Hebrew: tet} into ק {Hebrew: kof}, and instead
of טיטוס {Hebrew: Titus} (Titus), he reads קיטוס {Hebrew: Kitus} (Kitus), i. e. Quietus.
In this way he discovered a rebellion in Palestine
against Lucius Quietus. We know none of its
details, but its occurrence is beyond the peradventure
of a doubt. The conjecture, as simple as it is
ingenious, has been corroborated by a manuscript
reading.59 A narrative in tractate Sabbath 17a is no
less curious: “A sword was thrust into the academy,
with the words: Whoever desires may go in,
but none may come out,” etc. Graetz explains the
enigma thus: in the first year of the rebellion
against Nero a terrorist synod was dominated by
the Shammaites.60 In general, he considered the
opposition between the schools of Hillel and Shammai
not merely theoretic but also political, and he
identified the rabid Zealots with extreme Shammaites.
“Graetz is deserving of great praise for having established this
fact [the existence of the terrorist synod], until then not sufficiently
appreciated. In itself it is an extremely important result, and its
value is heightened by reason of the data growing out of it....
At all events, Herr Graetz has won a second distinction of equally
great importance by his use of the Megilla Taanith as a historical
source and his verification of its statements, even though many
remain dubious.”
This is the opinion of the historian61 Jost, surely a
competent judge in such matters.
Where so much light is radiated, there cannot
fail to be some shadows. Graetz’s admirable qualities
have a reverse side. He often permits subjective
views to obtrude themselves too much, and
in stating his hypotheses he is apt to clothe them in
terms too positive and incisive, not heeding that
events dovetail into each other; that men yield to
changeful humors and motives, often of a contradictory
nature; and that illogical, even irrational
turns of language and thought may occasionally
occur in the texts. It surely is not astonishing to
find inaccuracies, human errors, and misconceptions
here and there in a gigantic work of twelve
bulky volumes. Faults and shortcomings vanish
into forgetfulness by the side of the multiplicity
of his results and the grandeur of his achievement.
Perspective, life-like characterization, distinct
outline, glowing color--these Jewish history
owes solely to Graetz’s rich fancy. He opened
up new problems, created the historical types,
constructed the framework of Jewish history. But
his greatest achievement, one that cannot be rated
sufficiently high, is that of having procured a hearing
with all strata of his coreligionists by means
of his charming, easy style. He revived the consciousness
of an illustrious past, glorious in spite of
persecution and degradation, and the belief in a
future of spiritual triumph for Israel. Energetic
and ardent as his temperament was, he merged his
being in the past of his race, as it were, giving
devoted study to the most hidden emotions of the
national soul. He associated with the rabbis, philosophers,
and poets whose features and forms he
draws as with companions and intimate friends.
When storms are imminent in the course of the
history, he is visibly swayed by hope and fear, and
when a catastrophe has overwhelmed his people, he
is bowed down with anguish and grief. The reader
sees his suffering, and cannot withhold passionate
sympathy. For instance, he trembles at the thought
of the disgrace and misfortune threatening Israel
on account of the aberrations of the pseudo-Messiah
Sabbataï Zevi, and consoles himself with the
brilliant light of Jewish origin irradiating the world
through Spinoza. According to his favorite method
of setting men and events over against each other
and permitting them to elucidate each other by
their very opposition, he sharply contrasts the two
figures. He represents both as the product of the
Jewish passion for speculation on the infinite, and
shows how in the end both sever their connection
with Judaism; the one, lured on by the will-o’-the-wisp
mysticism, to sink into the abyss of deception
and immorality; the other, borne upward by philosophic
thought, to soar to the calm but cold heights
of an ideal sage.62 His creative, life-dispensing
power wafted the warm, liberating breath of spring
over the dull apathy settling like an icy crust on the
soul-life of the Jewish brotherhood. He re-awakened
general interest in the spirit and the history of
Judaism. The most popular writer in the field of
Jewish science, he could boast of success phenomenal
for a Jewish author; in a comparatively short
time, his voluminous work, apparently intended for
scholars, attained the distinction of a third, in parts
even of a fourth, edition, and in its English, French,
Russian, and, last though not least, Hebrew translations,63
it has become the common possession of
all the author’s brethren-in-faith.
The only help extended to Graetz in the prosecution
of his comprehensive plan proceeded from
the “Institute for the Promotion of Israelitish Literature,”64
founded in 1855 by Dr. Ludwig Philippson,
the most genial and most productive journalist
among rabbis. In return for a modest subscription
price several books were issued annually, among
which a volume of Graetz’s “History” usually
formed the chief attraction. Through the “Institute,”
a large circulation was secured for the “History”
from the first. The Society in turn was so
dependent upon Graetz’s work for its popularity
that when, on account of a misunderstanding with
Philippson, Graetz refused to have the last (eleventh)
volume published by the “Institute,” it could not
maintain itself long.
On the other hand, there was not lack of hostility,
jealousy, and petty annoyances. His work
was used everywhere, but not infrequently without
an open acknowledgment of its helpfulness. Especially
at first the faultfinders and finical critics plied
their trade vigorously on his work, as though any
Talmudist considered a scholar in his small circle
needed but to dip his pen into ink to write a history
superior to Graetz’s. Even later, when recognition
could not be withheld, praise was given grudgingly,
in half-hearted accents. The young theologians of
both parties, of the right and of the left wing, were
indefatigable in picking flaws of all kinds in his
details. They did not realize how effectually they
were thus demonstrating his pre-eminence, and
failed to understand that so monumental a work
cannot by any possible means escape blemishes
and malformations.
The “History” completed the breach between
Graetz and his sometime teacher, Samson Raphael
Hirsch. The latter had left Nikolsburg to act as
the rabbi of a wealthy private congregation in
Frankfort-on-the-Main. Soon after his removal, he
began to issue a monthly journal, Jeshurun. In
the second and third volumes of the magazine
appeared a passionate, violent review of the two
parts of the “History” then published, in which
Hirsch sat in judgment on Graetz’s heresies. The
soreness of the critic is unmistakable. It is doubtful
whether his thrusts were not meant to strike the
Jewish Theological Seminary at Breslau rather than
the “History.” Personal attacks usually left Graetz
unmoved, though he was in the habit of repelling
them with caustic brevity. But he never forgave
hostility towards the young institution. Thus the
last slender ties that had still bound the two men
to each other were snapped asunder forever. For
the rest, active and joyous as his nature was, he did
not trouble himself about his critics, nor did they
thwart the success of his work; its triumph was
complete. On the other hand, he was frankly proud
of the distinction conferred upon him by the Prussian
government in making him, in December,
1869, honorary professor of the Breslau University.
This governmental recognition went far towards
compensating him for the lack of regular professional
advancement in his academic career, the sore
point in his life, at which spiteful antagonists delighted
to aim their shafts.
With the eleventh volume, published in 1870, he
brought the history of the Jews since the Maccabean
struggle down to the present time (1848); nine
volumes had appeared in uninterrupted succession.
To complete and crown the work it was necessary
to give an account of ancient Jewish history covering
the Biblical and three centuries and a half of
post-Biblical times. Graetz devoted scrupulous
care to this portion of his work. He considered
its importance paramount, and regarded the
treatment of the early epochs as a most difficult
task, requiring for its adequate performance exegetical
studies and original text criticism. Graetz
thought himself particularly qualified and endowed
for such work; it had always been his favorite pursuit.
But before attacking the history of Israel and
ancient Judæa, he determined to satisfy his longing
to behold the Holy Land with his bodily eye, as he
had often sought to picture it to his mental eye.
With equal force his artistic impulse drew him to
Palestine. He hoped to derive local color and
inspiration for the description of hoary events from
the sight of consecrated places, which had been
their scenes and their witnesses. As early as 1865,
he had formed the plan of a journey to Palestine, the
execution of which became possible only in March,
1872, when two friends joined him. Limited to his
private resources and hampered by consideration
for his traveling companions, he was not able to
make his trip thoroughly satisfactory from a scientific
point of view. After all he obtained what he
had journeyed abroad to find; he brought back impressions,
enthusiasm, inspiration. In quick succession
the two, or more accurately, three65 parts of
his work treating of the Biblical and early post-Biblical
time appeared between 1874 and 1876, and
his historical work was complete according to the
plan he had sketched for himself. It was the brilliant
fulfillment of the promise “to furnish a history
of the Jews from the most ancient times to the
present day elaborated from the original sources,”
which he had made in 1854, when he began his
career as an historian with the publication of the
fourth volume of his “History.” Grand in conception,
clear and perspicuous in execution, riveting
attention by its charming style, the work has
not failed to find entrance into the hearts of the
author’s brethren-in-faith. It remains unsurpassed
in the present, and the future historian will realize
that he cannot deviate from the great lines laid
down in it. The little blemishes and errors of
various kinds that disfigure all human creations do
not affect the impression made by the work as a
whole. The discovery of hidden sources, now unsuspected,
may necessitate additions and changes
in details, but the great points of view, the pragmatic
conception, the underlying thoughts, as he
deduces them from the intricate complexity of
Jewish history, will never be superseded. Graetz’s
“History of the Jews,” voluminous though it is,
will forever remain an integral part of Jewish literature.
The first two, or rather three, parts of the “History”
form the transition to Graetz’s exegetical
studies. In their excellencies as well as in their
shortcomings they betray all the characteristics of
his work in Bible exposition. Obviously Graetz
had only awaited the completion of the history of
Judaism from the end of the Maccabean struggle to
the present time to enter, with all the vigor of his
intellect, upon the second phase of his activity as a
writer, that devoted to Bible exegesis and textual
criticism. Exegetical studies, no less than historical
research, were a distinct life-aim with him. They
were begun in 1871, and continued without interruption
until unexpected death snatched the pen
from his hand. To be accurate, the second phase
of his literary activity should be dated from 1869.
In that year Zacharias Frankel, wishing to devote
all his energy to his work on the so-called Jerusalem
Talmud, transferred the Monatsschrift to Graetz.
He marked the beginning of his editorial management
with an essay on “The Ebionites in the Old
Testament,”66 the first of a series in Old Testament
exposition and Hebrew philology. In part, they
may be regarded as monographs in preparation for
his history of the Biblical times. The series was
continued uninterruptedly, year after year, until
1887, when Graetz discontinued the publication of
the Monatsschrift.
In view of the narrow compass of Biblical literature,
comprising the whole residue of ancient
Israelitish writings and therefore the whole treasury
of the Hebrew language at our disposal, even those
expounders that cling to the word and to tradition
with slavish faithfulness are granted wide scope for
individual judgments and subjective hypotheses,
depending for their acceptance not upon precise
proof, but upon the inquirer’s will and disposition.
It is natural, then, that Graetz with his strongly
developed subjectivity, his delicately attuned ear,
and his gift of bold conjecture, should have reached
conclusions sharply contrasting with all accepted
views and incapable of logical, scientific demonstration.
His results and explanations, the outcome
of a passionate desire for clearness and consistency,
are often of startling originality. All sorts
of new questions were set on foot by him, many
fruitful suggestions may be traced to him, and he
bore many a trophy from the battlefields of textual
criticism. The boldness of his exegesis is illustrated
by his treatment of the two Hagiographic
books, Ecclesiastes and the Song of Songs, which,
published in quick succession in 1871, introduced
him to the world as an exegete. He attributes the
composition of Koheleth (or the Preacher, translation
and critical commentary)67 to the reign of
Herod, and places the author of Shir ha-Shirim
(or the Song of Songs, translation and critical commentary)68
in the Macedonian-Syrian time. Though
the hypotheses concerning the time of the composition
of the two books and many other propositions
are curious, and overwhelm the reader by their
pronounced deviation from all opinions hitherto
advanced; still it must be confessed, that the conjecture
with regard to the origin of Ecclesiastes is
engaging in the extreme, and it cannot be denied,
that the translations are good and in unexceptionable
taste, that the remarks and references are
instructive, and that the older versions were used
with care and attention. In the commentary on
Ecclesiastes, decidedly more valuable than that on
the Song of Songs, he offers besides interesting
data with regard to the Greek translation. Moreover,
Graetz frequently adduced analogies from the
Mishna and the Talmud, made exhaustive use of
whatever was advantageous for textual criticism in
the Talmudic literature, and thus brought to light
new material in such a way as to make it available
for the “higher criticism.” This, in fact, constitutes
his real and permanent distinction as an exegete.
His expositions were guided by two chief assumptions,
both rooted in the depths of his character.
He held that in every Biblical work an historical
background can be discerned with more or less
ease; that even generalizations and reflections cannot
conceal their connection with special facts, which
must be deduced and determined. Again, he was
of the opinion, that a contradiction or obscurity in
a Biblical passage cannot be resolved by a twisting
of words and phrases or by far-fetched analogies
in remote though related idioms. They were evidence
to him that the text had come to grief, and
that the original text could be restored only by a
conjecture, which might be disengaged from the
context, or patterned on a Talmudic parallel, or
deduced from older translations. He did not doubt
that catastrophes, the centuries, and perhaps also
the incompetence of copyists, had mutilated the
original Bible text, and wrenched it out of shape,
and he thought that even later, when it had been
fixed with scrupulous care, all sorts of errors might
have crept in.
According to these principles Graetz treated the
Psalms. In 1881 he published a German translation
of them, and in 1882–83 followed a “Critical
Commentary to the Psalms with Text and Translation.
2 vols.”69 The commentary is designed on a
generous scale, and gives abundant evidences of
ripe scholarship. But by the side of its excellent
features it contains many hazardous guesses and
vague, even though ingenious hypotheses. Justus
Olshausen, an Orientalist highly esteemed on
account of his learning and his sobriety, who was
occupied with the critical examination of the Old
Testament text for philological purposes, says the
following about the commentary on the Psalms in a
letter to the author:70
“On account of its boldness your commentary will certainly arouse
serious objections with the larger number of exegetes, themselves
overbold in exegesis, but weak in criticism. As for me, you know
that I am not affrighted by boldness in criticism when coupled with
knowledge of the language and the subject-matter, with acumen, and,
above all, with sound common sense. Doubtless, I shall not be
able to agree with you in every case in which, overconfident perhaps,
you may believe that you have hit upon the correct solution
of a difficulty. That, however, does not prevent me from recognizing
that your book, by reason of its abundance of excellent emendations,
is a valuable addition to exegetical literature.”
Graetz undoubtedly hit upon many a happy guess,
and applause was not lacking, but in general his
results met with opposition so decided that we may
surely expect a later generation to review the judgment
of our time and separate the chaff from the
wheat. Not in the least intimidated by the adverse
criticism upon his exegetical methods, he was
resolved to remove the difficulties attaching to the
Old Testament language by all the means at his
command. He thought himself justified in his confidence
in himself in matters of textual criticism,
upon which chiefly he concentrated his explanations
in the course of time. He grew more and more
unrestrained in his efforts to restore approximately
the original text of the Bible by means of audacious
conjectures, which his sympathetic mind was never
weary of devising. In other fields he was always
careful to keep in connection and in touch with tradition;
destructive tendencies were not at all characteristic
of him. But in his textual criticism he permitted
his zeal to run away with him, until he lost
the solid ground of the Bible text and of reality
from under his feet. His acumen displayed and
dissipated itself chiefly in the blinding pyrotechnics
of rocket-like emendations. Of this character are
his exegetical studies on the prophet Jeremiah,71 on
the Proverbs of Solomon,72 and his fine essay on
Bible exegesis.73
This kind of work was so attractive to him, that
in the latter years of his life he set about the
execution of a long-cherished and widely comprehensive
plan for the critical examination and the
emendation of the text of the whole Bible. The
realization of this plan was to be the consummation
and crown of his life’s labors. But he was not destined
to celebrate such unquestioned and brilliant
successes in this field as in that of history, where
he had earned and received the laurels due a
pioneer. Yet, we must be careful not to underrate
his exegetical and critical achievements as to
their intrinsic value and their influence. His exegetical
works and essays are replete with new
points of view and interesting suggestions. Many
a germ that has since proved fruitful can be traced
to them, and they have had a lasting effect upon the
development of Bible exegesis. His works of this
class, original and important enough to fill a life
of scholarly research, would suffice to secure to their
author an honorable name and a prominent place in
the history of Jewish science.
From year to year Graetz received an increasing
number of proofs of the recognition and veneration
paid him by a large circle of readers and admirers
and a growing band of friends and aspiring disciples.
But the enjoyment of his success was not
to be unalloyed. In 1879 the feeling against Jews
in Germany, always on the point of breaking out,
was set free in the shape of an anti-Semitic movement,
to serve as an unfailing instrument for political
agitation. Heinrich von Treitschke, an historian
characterized by patriotic ardor rather than scrupulous
adherence to word and truth, a writer with affecting,
oratorical pathos and a brilliant style at his
command, soon assumed the rôle of challenger in
the fray. He was scandalized by the boasting
spirit which, he alleged, was in the ascendant in
Jewish circles, and was to be regarded as a menace
to the German empire. He illustrated his strictures
by references to Graetz, who, he maintained, made
use of intemperate language in his polemics against
Christianity, and in his “History” had been guilty
of applying disrespectful expressions to the German
nation.74 Graetz replied, and Treitschke in turn made
him the subject of an article,75 in which he tried to
prove his allegations. He quoted passages from
the “History,” tearing them from their context, and
resorted to all sorts of sophistry. The leaders of
the intelligent portion of Berlin Jewry probably did
not realize the gravity of the situation. At all
events, they were far from having a clear idea of
the means necessary for stemming the rapidly
swelling tide. They were disinclined, however, to
suffer Treitschke’s attacks to pass unrepulsed, for
they had reason to suppose them to be more than
the venomous utterances of a professor. Thereupon
H. B. Oppenheim, a well-known politician and
writer on political economy, and highly esteemed for
his disinterested and noble character, adopted the
mistaken course of sacrificing Graetz to Treitschke’s
aggressive charges without examining them. Confessedly
he had not read Graetz’s works, yet he disposed
of their author summarily as “a man without
tact and fanatically one-sided, whose great learning
has been rendered nugatory by the absurdity of his
practical deductions.”76 This peculiar defense of
Judaism, to be sure, did not excite distressful feeling
in any one, but later events prove it to have been
symptomatic of the opinions and the mental constitution
of the intellectual notabilities of the Berlin
Jewish community.
A Berlin Jew had been put at the head of the
“Union of German Israelitish Congregations,”77 when
its headquarters had been moved from Leipsic to
Berlin. Active and clever in practical affairs, he invested
the “Union” with dignity, and stirred it up
to work and enterprise. With his help all sorts of
useful undertakings were executed; among them,
in 1885, a plan to promote the science of Judaism,
hitherto wholly neglected, along definite lines. A
commission was to be appointed to make means
and sources for research into the history of the Jews
of Germany available under the protection of the
“Union.” The project was hailed with satisfaction
by Jewish scholars. It was hoped that it would
eventually furnish the center from which other
scientific endeavors might radiate. All hopes of
this kind were early doomed to grievous disappointment.
The leaders of the “Union” lacked
perception of the needs of the situation; they permitted
an ambitious young scholar of the Jewish
faith, an “extraordinary” professor at the University
of Berlin, to become the governing spirit. He was
familiar with the mediæval government offices, and
did valiant service in the study of documents. But
he was destitute of the most elementary knowledge
of Hebrew, and therefore could have no conception
of the peculiar difficulties the writer of Jewish history
has to grapple with. Besides, he had so completely
identified himself with his specialty and with
the academic world of professors that a realizing
sense of the condition and needs of German Judaism
was out of the question. Under these circumstances
serious mistakes were inevitable. In the
first place Graetz was disregarded, completely
ignored, when the commission which was to organize
and superintend the historical investigations was
made up. The arbitrary exclusion of the only or,
at all events, the most eminent historian the Jews
can boast of must be considered a gross offense
against good manners. What is more, the good
work was thereby deprived of the best and most
valuable guarantee of success. Personal animosity
may have contributed to bring about the deplorable
action, but that does not alter the fact that Graetz
was most familiar with the field of work to be cultivated.
None recognized more clearly than he the
desiderata78 that occupied the attention and guided
the efforts of the scholars interested in Jewish history
at the time. Besides, he was an indefatigable, impulsive
worker, and his name was one to conjure
with. The slight put upon Graetz called forth
decided ill-humor among his numerous friends and
disciples, a large portion of whom were the rabbinical
heads of respected congregations. Their irritation
could not long remain without tangible effect.
Moreover, though the commission was composed
of highly esteemed scholars, among them Christians
who were master historians of the first rank, there
was not one member who had attained to more than
respectable dilettanteism in his acquaintance with
Jewish literature, a thorough knowledge of which
was indispensable for the proper realization of the
plan, and only one member who had given evidence
of his special interest in Jewish history by a work of
note. This exception was Professor Stobbe, a humane
Christian scholar and eminent jurist, who has
described the historico-legal status of the German
Jews in “The Jews in Germany during the Middle
Ages,”79 a book that has not yet been superseded.
The absence of Jewish scholars, specifically of Jewish
historians, awakened distrust in the ability of the
commission. In fact, its achievements, as displayed
in the “Journal for the History of the Jews in Germany”80
and in separate publications, are far from
realizing the expectations awakened by the boastful,
arrogant tone of scientific conceit in which the
leaders announced the undertaking, and are out of
all proportion to the expenditures incurred. The
most ambitious production, “Documents on the
History of the Jews, etc.,”81 is a fragment. Quietly,
unnoticed, the experiment died one day in the year
1892.82
The inconsiderate treatment accorded him by
the Berlin coterie or other circles did not cause
Graetz much heart-ache, and whatever soreness it
may have produced was completely healed by
London, whence he received the flattering invitation
to open the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition
with a lecture. The honorable reception accorded
him in the English capital, the persons
whose acquaintance he made, and the impressions
he carried home with him, all this refreshed
him, and put him into a buoyant frame of mind.
The visit to England he accounted one of the
happiest and most enjoyable events of his life.
The experiences gathered there strengthened the
hope, to which he had often given expression, that
salvation would arise for Judaism out of England
and America.
On October 31, 1887, he celebrated the seventieth
anniversary of his birth. His disciples and friends
made it the occasion for an extraordinary ovation,
and from all countries and climes homage was laid
at his feet. An overwhelming number of addresses,
gifts, congratulatory letters, and poems proved that
his achievements were in the mind and his honor
in the keeping of the whole body of intelligent Jews.
A particularly gratifying surprise came in the shape
of a diploma announcing that on October 27, 1888,
he, the Jew, who had not dealt leniently with the
Spanish nation in his historical writings, had been
elected an honorary member of its section in history
by the Spanish Academy at Madrid.
Until the very last his body and mind retained
remarkable elasticity and vigor; time seemed to
pass him by unnoticed. His indestructible working
powers and his literary fertility continued to be
astonishing.83 Even after concentrating his efforts
on exegetical research, he was a vigilant reader of
the monographs in whatever civilized language,
bearing, however remotely, on problems of the
science of Judaism. He gave the conclusions
reached in them a critical examination, and either
noted them for the enrichment and correction of a
new edition of his “History,” or refuted them in
special articles, if they seemed sufficiently important.
For, besides his historical and exegetical works, in
number and bulk an imposing array, he published
numberless essays and Programmschriften on the
most various subjects, many of them real gems,
models of clear writing and deep scholarship. In
some of them daring theories are advanced, as, for
instance, the one which he would never abandon,
that the Massora originated with the Karaites, from
whose literary works the Rabbanites derived it.
The conjecture was received with a great display
of indignation, but its refutation was not equally
emphatic, and it cannot be denied that certain evidences
may be interpreted in its favor.
Among his Programmschriften the following deserve
to be singled out: “Visigothic Legislation
with Regard to the Jews,”84 in the annual report of
the Jewish Theological Seminary for 1858; “Frank
and the Frankists,”85 in that for 1868; and “The
Kingdom of Mesene and its Jewish Population,”86
in that for 1879. In the Monatsschrift für Geschichte
und Wissenschaft des Judenthums, of which, as mentioned
above, he was the editor from 1869, the
greater part of the articles issued from his pen.
There is but one way of accounting for his numerous
achievements: he understood to perfection the art
of utilizing every moment.
Five o’clock in the morning found Graetz at his
desk. Until nine he gave uninterrupted attention
to his literary work. After that hour he was in the
habit of devoting himself to his lectures. He carried
on an extensive correspondence, found leisure for
all sorts of things, and was fond of the innocent
gayeties of social life. He retired late, and in
general needed but little sleep. His sound, almost
invincible nervous system was supplemented by a
constitution calculated to supply his extraordinary
capacity for work with a proper physical basis. He
was of average height, and habitually bent forward
his lean and spare, but sinewy, muscular figure, built
upon a strong bony frame. His face was somewhat
marred by pock-marks, but his head made a
massive, unusual impression. Soft, chestnut-brown,
later gray hair, in fair though not clustering abundance,
crowned his board-like, square forehead. His
sharp, observant eyes, grayish-brown in color, betokened
the owner’s enjoyment of life, and a somewhat
large, prominent nose with its delicate nostrils,
quivering like “feelers,” gave his long, oval,
bony face its characteristic searching expression.
Sometimes sadness played about his lips, but
usually they were curled by mockery, irony, and
defiance, as though sarcastic words might dart out
at any moment. In point of fact, sharp satire occasionally
spiced his conversation, which, as a rule,
however, was far from fulfilling the expectations
aroused by his writings. In his younger years
happy moments found him full of jokes and pranks
for the delectation of his domestic circle, and at all
times he displayed unquenchable zest for life and
cheerful optimism. Love of family was a dominant
trait in him. Towards his wife his bearing was always
tender and attentive, as though the honeymoon had
not passed; towards his daughter it was marked
by the perfection of gallantry; towards his sons he
exercised forbearance and self-sacrificing devotion,
and his aged father he met with the filial respect of
Talmudic times. He enjoyed and cultivated intercourse
with friends. For a friend, for any person
or cause that had enlisted his sympathy, he was
ready to pledge himself. Deeply moved by the
sad conditions prevalent in Palestine, he had brought
thence a plan for the education of Jewish orphans
in Jerusalem. He and his traveling companions
founded a society, and he exerted himself to secure
a fund, small though it might be, for the promotion
of its object. For this purpose he took journey
after journey, delivered lectures, at first much
against his inclination, in many cities, and even
accepted an invitation to go to Galicia, where he
was received with joyful demonstrations and overwhelmed
with flattering homage. Encouraged by
such successes, he persisted, until he had put the
society upon a modest but secure basis, which
enables it to continue its good work to this day.
Robust and vigorous as he felt himself, he undertook
in his old age a work in which he meant to
sum up his Bible studies of a critical and exegetical
character. He counted, not upon the sympathy of his
contemporaries, but upon the appreciation of a late
posterity. All subordinate occupations were dropped.
In 1888 he even discontinued the publication
of the Monatsschrift, none of his pupils being able
then to assume the editorial management. In order
to give a clear, comprehensive review of the results
of his Biblical text studies, he proposed to print the
Hebrew Bible in its entirety with emendations and
short notes justifying them. In 1891 all preparatory
work was completed, and the printing was begun.
How he cherished this life-work of his is evident
from the prospectus. Contrary to his custom, he
addresses himself to his friends, and requests them
to assist him in his venture.
“At the end of my life,” he says in the prospectus, “I have undertaken
the laborious task of summarizing the emendations of the
text of the Holy Scriptures, the admissibility and justification of
which no less than the necessity for which the accompanying prospectus
sets forth.... I beg you to aid my efforts ... in order that
the pecuniary risk incurred may not too far transcend my means.”
This prospectus appeared in July, 1891, and it
was the last word that issued from the author’s
untiring pen for publication.
Although he was escaping the infirmities and
ailments of the old, and considered himself perfectly
well, and certainly felt vigorous, age had crept
upon him insidiously. The action of his heart
was so much impaired that his physicians became
anxious about his condition. According to his
annual custom he went to Carlsbad for the cure of
minor indispositions. Thence he had planned to
go to Munich on a few days’ visit to his oldest son,
who occupied the position of “extraordinary” professor
of physics at the University there, and then
spend some time resting at Reichenhall with his
son’s family. Shortly before the time set for his
departure from Carlsbad, where he had not taken
care of himself, he had a fainting spell of so serious
a nature that the physician urged Mrs. Graetz to
return to Breslau without delay. He considered
the precaution exaggerated, and when he finally
yielded, he refused to forego the trip to Munich.
There, at his son’s house, he suffered, in the night
between the sixth and the seventh of September, a
violent attack of colic. Under the influence of
opium administered by a physician the pain passed
away, and he dropped to sleep. When his wife
arose early in the morning to observe his condition,
she found him lying in bed lifeless. His heart had
ceased to act, and so a life replete with work and
rich in attainment had too soon come to an end.
His remains were transported to Breslau, and three
days later, in the presence of a numerous gathering
of his pupils and friends and amid demonstrations
of general sympathy, they were consigned to the
grave in the Jewish cemetery.
His wife, whose days are devoted to the memory
of her celebrated husband, considered it incumbent
upon her to publish his last work, the manuscript of
which was all but complete, but of which only a few
sheets had issued from the press at the time of
Graetz’s death. The editor is Professor W. Bacher
of Buda-Pesth, one of Graetz’s disciples, who has
won honorable repute by his editions and his studies
in the history of Hebrew grammar and exegesis.
Besides the editorial work proper, he has been
forced to supply from memoranda a considerable
piece in the Prophets, which by some mischance had
gone astray. On the whole, this critical Bible edition,
by which the departed author set great store,
has been pursued by peculiar ill-luck. Unlike his
other productions it must miss the author’s pruning
and correcting hand as it passes through the
press. It is doomed to appear as an incomplete
because a posthumous work. The title is: Emendationes
in plerosque Sacræ Scripturæ Veteris Testamente
libros secundum veterum versiones nec non
auxiliis criticis cæteris adhibitis. Ex relicto defuncti
auctoris manuscripto edidit Guil. Bacher. 3 Pts.
Breslau, 1892–1894. The Hebrew text of the Bible
is treated boldly and subjectively. But it remains
for a later generation to pass final judgment upon
the value of Graetz’s contributions to the critical
determination of the Bible text. There can be no
doubt that Graetz was as much a master in the field
of exegesis as in that of history.
The time will come when his contemporaries will
be envied for the privilege of having stood face to face
with one so great and noble. Those days, to be
sure, will not know the grief and sorrow that befell us
when unexpectedly and without warning the revered
teacher was removed from our sight. Still less
will there be a suspicion of the self-reproaches that
assail us too late for having frequently had a
keen eye for the detection of minute shortcomings
and inadequacies, the inherent foibles of the human
kind, rather than a willing, attentive ear to listen to
the suggestions and solutions so lavishly offered.
After all, the most beautiful blossoms put forth by
him, the best fruits produced by his mind, are in
his writings; he that can read may enjoy them.
* * * * *
Note.--While this Memoir was passing through the press, the
commission on the history of the Jews of Germany, spoken of on
pp. 78–80, after five years of inactivity again showed signs of life
in the form of a valuable publication by a rabbi: Das Martyrologium
des Nürnberger Memorbuches by Dr. S. Salfeld. At the same time,
the promise of the completion of Die Regesten zur Geschichte der
Juden, etc., is held out.
