XIV

SAMUEL DAVID LUZZATTO AND ZACHARIAH FRANKEL

I

The nineteenth century is remarkable in the annals of Jewish history and bibliography on account of the many eminent Jewish scholars it has produced, men who greatly enlarged the field of what is known in modern phrase as the science of Judaism. They threw new light on diverse Jewish subjects of much importance, such as the Mishna, the Talmud, the Midrash, and likewise on general Jewish history and literature. Especially notable were Zunz, Rapoport, Geiger, Munk, Jost, Fürst, Jellinek, Luzzatto, and Frankel.

The two last-named savants form the subject of the present essay, and are here treated together, not merely because the centenary of their birth was some time ago celebrated in several Jewish communities within the same year, but because they were the renowned heads of two Rabbinical colleges, which brought about a revival of Talmudical and general Jewish studies.

Samuel David Luzzatto was born at Trieste, in Austria, in August, 1800. He belonged to an old Italian Jewish family, several members of which occupied conspicuous places in the annals of Jewish history and scholarship. The most noted among them were Moses Hayim Luzzatto (1707–40), the well-known author of two delightful Hebrew dramas, entitled La-Yesharim Téhilla and Migdal Oz, and Ephraïm Luzzatto, who (in 1768) published in London a collection of charming little Hebrew poems and songs[154-1], which is spoken of in eulogistic terms by Franz Delitzsch, in his Geschichte der jüdischen Poesie. Samuel D. Luzzatto received his early education at the excellent Jewish Free School of his native town, where he studied Biblical and Talmudical subjects, general science, and ancient and modern languages. On leaving school, Luzzatto chose literature as his future calling, and with that purpose in view he applied himself with the utmost zeal to the study of the Italian language and literature, which he in later years knew almost to perfection. At the age of nineteen he became, by mere chance, known throughout the whole of Italy as a talented writer of Italian verses. It so happened that the then Austrian Crown Prince, who subsequently became Emperor of Austria, paid a flying visit to Trieste, and that the leaders of the local Jewish community commissioned young Luzzatto to write an Italian sonnet in commemoration of the royal visit. The Prince expressed his appreciation of its excellence by causing it to be published in several leading papers of the country.

But a far more substantial recognition of his attainments was accorded to Luzzatto a few years later in the shape of a professorship at the Collegio Rabbinico, which, at the instigation of the Austrian government, had been established at Padua in the year 1829. A little before this Luzzatto had married the daughter of one of his former masters, and having just finished his first important literary work on Targum Onkelos, called Oheb Ger, he bestowed upon his firstborn son the name of “Philoxenes,” which was a literal translation of the title of his book. The book was not printed for some time, as the only publisher who was willing to produce it, made the curious stipulation that the author should bind himself to buy 200 copies of his own work! This was the honorarium offered at the beginning of last century to a Jewish scholar for an epoch-making work. Undaunted by this discouragement Luzzatto continued his literary occupation, and the fruits of his labours ultimately appeared in print, partly during his lifetime and partly after his death. They dealt with a great variety of subjects, more especially with Biblical exegesis, homiletics, Jewish history, philosophy, and poetry. Poetry was one of Luzzatto's favourite subjects, and he enriched it with many valuable contributions of his own, which mostly appeared in his two volumes entitled Kinnor Naïm (כנור נעים). To Luzzatto credit is also due for having unearthed a great number of Hebrew MSS. containing poems and songs, which had Ibn Gabirol, Jehuda Halevi, the two Ibn Ezras, and other famous Hebrew writers of the Middle Ages for their authors. Luzzatto devoted a great deal of his time and attention to editing them, although he knew very well from past experiences that work of this kind was a labour of love only, and nothing more. He was always most willing to assist, in a literary sense, any one who asked him for the loan of a copy of a rare Hebrew MS., which he happened to possess, and would himself very often copy it out with his own hands. Writing to Luzzatto, Zunz once reproached him for his generosity to unknown persons, who often took advantage of his kindness and abused it. In his reply to Zunz he said: “It lies in my nature to act in literary matters just as I do. If to-day Satan himself were to come to me and ask for a MS., which he wished to have printed in Hades, I would kiss his hands and cheerfully comply with his request. For surely I do not work for my own benefit, nor for any ambitious purpose of my own.”

For many years Luzzatto carried on a correspondence with some of the most renowned savants of his time, such as Rapoport, Zunz, Steinschneider, the Christian professors Delitzsch, Rosenmüller, and Martinet, in addition to whom might also be mentioned Geiger, Sachs, Dukes, Jellinek, Fürst, Kirchheim, Reggio, and Ghirondi. They all profited more or less from the literary contents of his letters, which they frequently utilized in their own work. Luzzatto wrote Hebrew, Aramaic, Latin, French, and German with a certain amount of ease and fluency, but he was a master of Italian prose and verse. A renowned Italian poetess, Eugenia Pavia Gentilomo by name, thought so much of his taste that she always submitted her poems in MS. to him before she sent them to the press for publication.

Though Luzzatto's general correspondence was large the bulk of it was with Rapoport and Geiger. It is a well-known fact that Geiger was greatly helped by Luzzatto in the preparation of his excellent German version of Jehuda Halevi's Hebrew poems and songs. On one occasion, when Geiger delayed in answering a long letter of Luzzatto's, the latter reminded him of his omission in a poem consisting of four stanzas, each of which was composed in another language. One stanza, written in French, is worth reproducing:—

Monsieur le Grand-Rabbin, Abraham Violoniste[157-1]

Avez-vous tout d'un coup cassé le violon?

Ne donne-t-elle plus votre main le doux son,

L'aimable mélodie, ranimant l'esprit triste?

Equally interesting is a German poem by Geiger to Luzzatto, accompanying a copy of Jehuda Halevi's works, in which he gratefully acknowledges his many obligations to Luzzatto. It runs as follows:—

Aus frommer Dichter Stamm, selbst frommer Dichter,

Ein Weiser, Edler, mild zugleich als Richter,

Ein Nil, der überströmend Segen spendet,

Doch Deines Wissensfluth nicht Schlamm aussendet.

Hast meine Fluren auch getränket,

Dort edle Reben eingesenket.

Die Frucht ist reif, lass sie Dir reichen,

Nimm sie als treuer Freundschaft Zeichen.

In spite of his multifarious literary occupations Luzzatto devoted particular care and attention to his professorial duties in the Collegio Rabbinico. It was his ambition to make it a model for all Rabbinical colleges. His disciples, consisting as they did of Italians, Germans, Poles, and Russians, loved and revered their master, who, in his turn, treated them as if they were his personal friends, and took the liveliest interest in their affairs. He took a special pride in noting in his own works any clever idea suggested by his pupils in the course of his lectures, and he thus encouraged them to literary enterprise on their own account. If the question were asked what the leading feature of Luzzatto's character was, it might unhesitatingly be answered that it was conscientiousness. When it is remembered how he had to struggle against absolute poverty for many years, and how frequently his home was visited by sickness and death, his whole-hearted devotion to his duties, his enthusiasm in his literary pursuits, and his universal kindness become intensified. It was this conscientiousness which led him to decline the post of Haham to the Spanish and Portuguese congregation in London, because he thought that he could not acquire sufficient mastery over the English language to enable him to preach in it satisfactorily.

It is interesting to note that Luzzatto's literary activity continued almost till his death. His very last literary production was a Hebrew sonnet composed in commemoration of the sixth centenary of the birth of Dante. Luzzatto died after a short illness, on the eve of the Day of Atonement, in 1865.

The limits of an essay do not permit of entering on any detailed account of Luzzatto's multifarious books and treatises. Suffice it to say that, if put together, they would occupy a large space in a small library. It is, however, not the quantity but rather the quality of his writings that commands our close attention. This is specially the case with those which deal with the exposition of the Bible. To this particular branch of study Luzzatto devoted much time, and to his credit it must be said that he was one of the first Jewish scholars of the nineteenth century who took it up seriously and with conspicuous success.

It would be idle to ignore altogether Luzzatto's faults and inconsistencies, which resulted in a rupture with some of his best friends. As an instance may be mentioned his quarrels with Rapoport, Geiger, and some other friends. Again, he sometimes expressed the most radical views concerning the Massorah, and, on the other hand, attacked the works of Maimonides and Ibn Ezra on account of their liberal ideas in the exposition of certain Biblical subjects. But, in spite of all this, we cannot and must not diminish our admiration for a man like Luzzatto, whose self-sacrificing efforts were always directed towards the advancement of the interest of Jewish literature generally.


II

ZACHARIAH FRANKEL

In the first part of this essay reference was made to the similarity between Luzzatto and Frankel in respect of their mental training, their vocation, and the first success, which they both achieved therein. It is now proposed to give a short sketch of Frankel's life, from which it will be seen that he, like Luzzatto, was ever animated by the noble desire of promoting the interests of Judaism, and its ancient and modern literature.

Zachariah Frankel was born at Prague, in Austria, on October 1, 1801, corresponding to the 24th of Tishri, 5562. He was the son of well-to-do parents, both of whom belonged to ancient Jewish families, and some of whose members had successively held the honourable post of Chief Rabbi there. Young Frankel received his early education in Prague. He studied Biblical and Talmudical subjects, but also devoted part of his time to mathematics, French, Latin, and Greek. At the age of twenty-three he went to Buda-Pesth, at the university of which town he continued his former studies, and there in due course he graduated as Doctor of Philosophy. Being already well known as a Talmudical scholar and as master of Jewish literature, and having, moreover, obtained the authorization to act in the capacity of Rabbi, Frankel was soon elected (in 1831) the spiritual head of the Jewish community of Teplitz, in Bohemia. After staying there for four years, during which time he introduced into the ritual the German sermon, which, by the way, was then quite an innovation in Austria, he was appointed Chief Rabbi of Saxony, having his domicile at Dresden. There a wide field of activity was at once opened for him, and he was not slow in showing his great abilities. He soon proved himself to be not only an eminent scholar and earnest writer and preacher, but also a man of singularly vigorous action in communal matters. It was chiefly due to his untiring and strenuous efforts that some of the civil disabilities, under which the Jews of Saxony then laboured, were removed by the government. To this category belongs the ancient form of oath, which used to be administered to them more Judaico.

While at Dresden, Frankel was offered the important post of Chief Rabbi of Berlin, which he, however, declined; but he consented to undertake the duties of organizer and Director of the Jüdisch-theologisches Seminar (Jewish Theological College), which was then about to be established at Breslau, and has subsequently become famous as a model institution of its kind. It was a post after his own heart. He cherished the hope that in his capacity as leader and teacher of numerous disciples, who would themselves one day be leaders in the synagogue, he would be able to serve the cause of Judaism better than if he were always to remain the spiritual head of one single community. Frankel lived to see the realization of his wishes; for a great many of his pupils occupied more or less important positions as Rabbis and preachers in different parts of the world, and some of them worked as professors in institutions that were almost identical in position and organization with the one over which he himself presided.

When the Breslau Seminary was opened (on August 10, 1854), there were two conflicting currents of thought prevailing in respect of Jewish law and custom. The Ultra-orthodox party advocated a noli me tangere policy in religious matters, and considered that any attempt towards the modification of any antiquated usage was levelled at the whole structure of Judaism. The opposite party, of whom there were many representatives in Germany and elsewhere, were in favour of such radical changes in the ritual as were calculated to create a positive revolution. In these circumstances Frankel recommended his pupils the adoption of a middle course in their future careers, showing that, while he tacitly admitted the necessity of some reform in Judaism, as it then existed, he was of opinion that the changes should be introduced gradually and with the utmost caution. He had already expressed these views publicly, notably at the assembly of Rabbis at Frankfort, and it is therefore obvious that he was not averse to moderate religious reforms.

Although at the time of the opening of the Breslau Seminary Frankel numbered among his colleagues such eminent scholars as Graetz, Bernays, Joel, and Zuckermann, he himself was and always remained the head, in fact as well as name. His lectures were chiefly on the Talmud, the importance and value of which he continually endeavoured to make clear to his pupils. He read and explained to them certain sections of it on each of the first five days of the week, and in so doing he made a somewhat free use of the mode of teaching that had been in vogue in the ancient Jewish academies. He allowed and even encouraged his pupils to enter upon discussions on the subject-matter of his lecture. By this means Frankel was able to test the industry and talent of each individual pupil. Once a week, however, he gave a regular lecture in the classroom, at which there was no discussion. On these occasions he generally discoursed on the origin and development of the oral law, extending over a period of several centuries. These lectures were subsequently embodied in his book entitled Darkè Hammishnah, to which special reference will presently be made.

There is no doubt that Frankel was greatly in favour of a free and unrestricted investigation of Judaism and its teachings, and that he always essayed to reconcile them with what is called in modern phrase “der Zeitgeist.” Instances of this are to be found everywhere in his writings and treatises, many of which appeared in the monthly magazine Die Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judenthums, which he edited from 1852 till 1868. As regards Frankel's books it may justly be said that they are classical, but want of space precludes a reference to more than three of them, which appear to be of special interest.

Frankel's first important volume appeared at Leipsic in 1841, under the title of Die Vorstudien zu der Septuaginta (“Studies in the Septuagint”). Several other writers, including the renowned Jewish critic Azarya de Rossi (1514–78), had already devoted their earnest attention thereto, but none of them attained the same measure of success as the author of the Vorstudien. Frankel throws much light on the genesis, the composition, and the tendency of the Septuagint, and explains the reason why its appearance was hailed with delight by the Alexandrian Jews, but condemned by that section of the Jews which then resided in Palestine. Equally instructive and interesting are the remarks he makes on the influence which it exercised on several of the subsequent ancient translations of the Bible, and on the development of the so-called Halacha. But, he says, it has done much more than that. It has infused for the first time into the thoughts and language of the civilized nations of antiquity the lofty teachings of Judaism, and has directly and indirectly enriched the world of letters with many suggestive ethical and moral lessons. By the publication of this particular book Frankel accomplished two important things: in the first place he showed the world that the Jews, as the authors of the Septuagint, have contributed a great deal to universal literature; and then he also made his own people acquainted with some of the precious literary treasures which they possessed, but which they had hitherto ignored.

His second important work, published at Leipsic in 1859, is entitled Darkè Hammishnah, but it has also the following additional heading in Latin Hodogetica in Mishnam librosque cum ea conjunctos, Tosefta, Mechilta, Sifra, Sifri. It is written in an easy Hebrew style, which the author no doubt rightly thought would be thoroughly understood by all students of Rabbinical literature, as were not well versed in any other language. This volume contains, as its two titles already briefly indicate, much information on the ancient Rabbinical lore and tradition generally, but chiefly in respect of the Mishna. The latter is fully described there with regard to its many authors, its varied characteristics, its idiom, and its literary and scientific value. It seems scarcely credible, but it is a fact that this important and highly instructive work was at the time of its appearance vehemently assailed by some ultra-orthodox German and Austrian Rabbis, who publicly declared it to be a dangerous book, and one calculated to undermine the very foundations of Jewish law and tradition. On the other hand it is gratifying to note that Rapoport at once recognized its great merits, and did his best to defend it.

Frankel's third and last work was his M'bo Ha-Yerushalmi, which means “An Introduction to the Jerusalem Talmud.” Like the Darkè Hammishnah it was written in Hebrew, and was published in 1870, that is to say, when the author was seventy years old. What makes the M'bo Ha-Yerushalmi particularly valuable is the circumstance that in it he broke entirely new ground. It has, in fact, become an indispensable guide to all who have chosen Talmudical literature as their special study. In it Frankel displayed his usual thoroughness in the critical analysis of its details, especially of its many compilers, its peculiar language, and its relation to the Babylonian Talmud.

The aims of Luzzatto and Frankel were in a large measure identical. They appeared in the early part of the nineteenth century when the presence of really able men was specially needed in the Jewish camp. At that particular time it was fast becoming evident that unless Rabbinical and other Jewish literature received an academical and classical treatment it would sink into utter oblivion, and it is mainly due to their exertions, both by the spoken word and the published writing, that this misfortune was averted. Their personal example moreover, in their capacity as heads of Rabbinical seminaries, stimulated their pupils to embark on original research into the various branches of Jewish science and literature, and showed them at the same time how to do it methodically and on scientific lines, with what results latter-day history has sufficiently demonstrated.

Like Luzzatto, Frankel was actively engaged in literary work till almost the very day of his death, which occurred on February 23, 1875. He left no children of his own to mourn him, but, as this essay is in its humble way intended to show, he lives in the remembrance of his pupils, who revered him as a teacher and loved him as a man.

Footnotes:

[154-1] Entitled אלה בני הנעורים.

[157-1] The point lies here in the circumstance that the term “violoniste” is equivalent to the German word “Geiger.”