Part 14
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.”
XV
THE INFLUENCE OF HEBREW LITERATURE ON HEINRICH HEINE
It is curious to observe that Carlyle, who frequently writes with unqualified admiration of the literary genius of certain representatives of modern German literature, such as Goethe, Schiller, and Jean Paul Richter, makes only one brief reference to Heine. He there stigmatizes him with even more than his usual savagery, “blackguard.” The injustice of this obloquy has been amply proved by Heine's popularity on both sides of the Atlantic among English-speaking people.
A writer in the _Quarterly Review_, some years ago, in a lengthy article on Heine, said that his writings differed from other works of the same nature in their bizarre and grotesque style, as well as in the delightful humour with which they often overflow—a humour vividly reminiscent of Aristophanes. Heine, he goes on to say, who was a direct descendant of the prophets in mind and inspiration, somewhat resembled the two great seers of Israel—Isaiah and Ezekiel. Like them, he found in the use of strange metaphors and wonderful visions a ready means of appealing to the imagination of his readers. The present essay is an attempt to show that, in a spiritual sense, Heine really had something in common with some of the great authors of the Bible, whose peculiar style and beautiful diction he instinctively imitated.
The first and most important question that arises is naturally, Whether Heine had ever read the Bible or some parts of it in the original Hebrew, or whether he acquired his undoubtedly deep knowledge of it from a modern version? Two of the greatest authorities, Graetz and Karpeles, say that Heine was sent in his early days by his mother, Betty von Geldern, to a Jewish school, where he actually learned some Hebrew, together with various other subjects connected with the Jewish faith. However much or little it was, Heine retained a vivid recollection of it to the end, for in some of his later works are found some Hebrew quotations, which are mainly short phrases and sentences that occur in the Bible and in other Hebrew volumes of a more modern date^[166-1].
But it was not only during the time he was at the Jewish school at Düsseldorf that he had an opportunity of learning certain important things about Judaism and its literature. It is known that he was a keen member of a Jewish society that was formed at Berlin in 1822 for the promotion of the study and knowledge of Jewish history and literature; and through his intimate acquaintance with several of the members, such as Zunz, David Friedländer, Moser, and others, Heine learnt to appreciate the charm of these studies. He was enthusiastic in his praises of the Bible, and likewise found in the poetry of the great Jewish poets of the Middle Ages a perpetual source of delight. His knowledge of them was derived from Michael Sach's well-known volume, entitled _Die religiöse Poesie der Juden in Spanien_ (“Religious Poetry of the Jews in Spain”). Though his inability to read the writings of Jehuda Halevi, Ibn Gabirol, Moses and Meïr Ibn Ezra, and Alcharizi in the original prevented him from an entire appreciation of their merits, yet he speaks of them in his _Hebrew Melodies_ in terms of great admiration. Referring, for instance, to Alcharizi, he says that he was a Voltaire six hundred years before Voltaire lived; and of his special favourite Jehuda Halevi, he says that he was kissed at his birth by the Almighty, and that the sound of the kiss echoed in all his poems and songs.
There can be little doubt that his own works were influenced in no small degree by these illustrious predecessors, but it would seem that he was even more directly inspired by the Bible itself, and particularly by the lyric songs, which especially abound in the Book of Psalms and the Song of Songs. He refers to it more than once in eulogistic terms, but most characteristic are the following remarks^[167-1]: “I have to-day,” he writes, “again looked through the Old Testament. What a marvellous book it is! Its contents are wonderful, and so is its diction. Every word it contains is as natural as the growing tree, the smiling flower, the flowing ocean, the glittering star, and the living man. The Bible is divine and emanates from God, while all the other books in existence are but the poor products of feeble-minded mortals. The Bible is the drama of the human race, and may, moreover, be pronounced to be the book of books—_Biblia_. . . . The Jews ought, indeed, to console themselves for the loss of Jerusalem and the Temple, together with the Ark of the Covenant, and the precious jewels of King Solomon; such a loss is surely quite insignificant when compared with that indestructible treasure, the Bible, which they have luckily saved. . . . My admiration for it is extremely great.”
These were the views of Heine, the sceptic and the mocker, who said, for instance, of Judaism, that it was not a religion, but a misfortune. His early antipathy for his religion may not improbably have been due to the repellent effect, which the performance of a number of unattractive and to him meaningless rites would naturally cause to a man of his aesthetic sensibilities. But, as he grew older and more serious in disposition, he looked upon Judaism in a different light, and he changed his mockery into a hymn of praise and admiration. He was deeply impressed by the great antiquity of the Jewish race, which had bravely withstood the shocks of time, and continued to live and to endure in spite of the many obstacles and hostile influences to which it had been subjected. In his so-called “Confessions,” written when he was already advanced in years, he said that he felt proud of the fact that his ancestors had been members of the noble house of Israel, and that he was thus descended from those very martyrs, who had given to the world a God and an admirable code of ethics, for the sake of which they had often suffered and died.
Heine's knowledge of Hebrew was, as already stated, by no means so extensive as to make it credible that he had of himself been able to detect in the poetical portions of the Hebrew Bible certain beauties of form and diction, as well as many of the graceful irregularities which constitute a unique characteristic of their own. Yet he seems to have had a sort of instinctive feeling for them. That such singularities are also met with in many of Heine's lyric songs is a fact that will hardly be disputed, though it is uncertain whether they were really imitations of the Biblical ones or not. At all events, they possess many of the unique qualities which distinguish the poems in the Hebrew Bible. They are characterized by a certain peculiarity of rhythm, by their charming word-pictures, and by their changes from gaiety to melancholy, from sobriety to mirth. They have, moreover, supplied the theme for many of the charming compositions of musicians, like Schubert, Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, and Schumann. Further, though they have been repeatedly translated into various languages by some of the most eminent scholars of the day, there is scarcely a single version which can be said to preserve a reproduction of the spirit of the original. The following two examples, which are English versions of a Hebrew and German lyric song respectively, may be considered sufficient to prove this. The Hebrew one occurs in the Song of Songs (viii. 6 and 7), and its English translation runs thus:—
Love is strong as death; The passion thereof is hard as _Shéol_; Its heat is the heat of fire, A very flame of the Lord!
Many waters cannot quench love, Neither can the floods drown it: If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, He would utterly be despised^[169-1].
The second example is represented here by one of Heine's lyric songs, which in the original German runs as follows:—
Leise zieht, durch mein Gemüth Liebliches Geläute; Klinge, kleines Frühlingslied, Kling' hinaus ins Weite.
Kling' hinaus, bis an das Haus, Wo die Veilchen spriessen, Und wenn du eine Rose schaust, Sag', ich lass' sie grüssen.
_Translation._
Softly ring, and through me spring The sweetest tones to-day; Gently ring, small song of spring, Ring out, and far away.
Ring and roam, into the home, Where violets you see, And when unto a rose you come, Oh, greet that rose from me.
The translation is by Sir Theodore Martin, whose versions of many of Heine's poems and songs are generally considered to be specially good, but it cannot truly be said that in either of these two renderings is there much more than the pale reflection of the charm of the original.
Again, it will be found that in the Biblical lyric songs and those of Heine there is a striking community of sentiment, and more particularly in the idealization of womanhood or of one of its fairest representatives. The following translation (again by Sir Theodore Martin) of two songs of Heine may serve as examples:—
I
Thou, so fair, so pure of guile, Maiden of the sunny smile, Would, to thee, it were my fate, All my life to dedicate.
Like the sunbeam's tender shine, Gleam these gentle eyes of thine; Thy soft cheeks, so ruddy bright, Scatter rays of rosy light.
Thy dear little mouth does show Pearls within, a shining row, But the gem of gems the best, Is enshrined within thy breast.
It was love, divinely deep, That into my heart did creep, When I looked on thee erewhile, Maiden of the sunny smile^[170-1].
II
Thou art as a tender floweret, So gentle, and pure, and fair; I gaze on thee, and sadness Comes over me unaware.
I feel, as though I should lay, sweet, My hands on thy head with a prayer, That God may keep thee, my darling, As gentle, and pure, and fair^[170-2].
Several poems of Heine, which are coloured with what is called in modern phrase the “Weltschmerz,” show even more clearly that their author has inherited something of the sombre spirit of the prophets. Any one who has, for instance, read the Book of Lamentations, or the 137th Psalm beginning with the words “By the river of Babylon there we sat down, and when we thought of Zion our tears did flow,” will hardly fail to detect an identity of feeling in the fine verses of Heine on Zion. One of these poems runs in the original German as follows:—
Brich aus in tiefe Klagen, Du düsteres Martyrlied, Das ich so lang getragen Im flammenstillen Gemüth!
Es dringt in alle Ohren Und durch die Ohren ins Herz; Ich habe gewaltig geschworen Den tausendjährigen Schmerz.
Es weinen die Grossen und Kleinen, Sogar die alten Herr'n, Die Frauen und Blumen weinen, Es weinen am Himmel die Stern'.
Und all die Thränen fliessen Nach Süden im stillen Verein, Sie fliessen und ergiessen Sich all in den Jordan hinein.
From the examples given it may be seen that whether Heine sang the praises of his lady-love, or whether he lamented the sad fate of his long-suffering people, he was imbued with the same spirit which abode in the old singers of Israel. Similarly he would seem to have gone to the Bible for his inspiration when he took the wonders of nature for his theme. If, for instance, the 104th and the 107th Psalms, in which the moods of nature in her opposite aspects are so effectively described, are compared with those poems of Heine which deal with the same subjects, it will readily be seen how close is the resemblance between Heine and the Biblical models.
As in his poems so also in his sketches are found extraordinary visions, which have, moreover, frequently witty turnings. All these have something of Jewish Talmudism about them, and are in the true Rabbinic vein. Similar visions, fancies, and witticisms are common in that section of the Talmud which is generally called the _Agada_, wherein the grave Rabbis often enlivened their learned discussions with curious and fantastic tales, love-songs, and sometimes even with facetious and satirical digressions. From them, therefore, Heine seems to have inherited much of the humour and incisive satire, which he now and again employs as a weapon against his own detractors and the enemies of the Jewish race.
Invested with something of a Jewish colouring are also some of his epigrams, _bons mots_, and witty descriptions of persons and things. Of these the following example may serve as a specimen. Speaking of Fortune and Misfortune, Heine offers the following amusing definitions: “Fortune, or Good Luck,” he says, “is like a young and lively girl, a relative of ours, who is staying with us on a visit. By her unaffected merriment, sweet singing, and airy gossip she makes her surroundings extremely happy, and her presence is therefore hailed by us with much delight. But, alas, she is, like a golden butterfly, flighty and restless, and cares not much to abide in one place for any length of time. Quite different, however, is Dame Misfortune, who may be likened to an aged relative, and a spinster to boot, that has a bitter look about her, and a sour temper. When _she_ is paying us a visit, she considers herself quite at home, and would thus sit, and knit, and chatter, and moan, from morning till night. Oh, how ardently we all long for her speedy departure from among us; but she, for her part, is fully determined to stay on and on, for ever and ever.”