The Berlin Jewish Community: Enlightenment, Family and Crisis, 1770-1830 (Studies in Jewish History) 0195083261, 9780195083262

Table of contents :
Contents
Part I: Berlin Before Modernity
1. The Crisis of Berlin Jewry: Introduction to the Problem
2. A Traditional Jewish Community: Berlin Jewry Before the Changes
Part II: The Stage of "Peaceful Modernization"
3. The Seven Years War (1756–1763) and the Emergence of a New Economic Elite
4. The Intellectuals of the Berlin Haskala
5. The Lifestyle of Modernizing Berlin Jews
6. Those Outside the Modernizing Groups: Poor Jews and Orthodox Jews in Berlin
Part III: The Crisis of Berlin Jewry
7. The Struggle for Emancipation and Its Radicalizing Impact
8. Intellectual Radicalization and Economic Crisis
9. The Salons
10. The Crisis: Illegitimacy and Family Breakdown
11. The Crisis—Conversion: Its Scope and Characteristics
12. Religious Reform: An Attempt to Deal with the Crisis
Part IV: The Social Analysis of the Crisis and Its Connection to the Enlightenment
13. Family, Ideology, and Crisis: The Personal Connections Between the Enlightened and the Converts
14. Was the Experience of Women Different from Men's Experience?
15. The Aftermath of the Crisis: Berlin Jewry After 1823
Part V: Conclusion
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
Index
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
R
S
T
U
V
W
Y
Z

Citation preview

THE BERLIN JEWISH COMMUNITY

STUDIES IN JEWISH HISTORY Jehuda Reinharz, General Editor THE JEWS OF PARIS AND THE FINAL SOLUTION Communal Response and Internal Conflicts, 1940-1944 Jacques Adler JEWS IN CHRISTIAN AMERICA The Pursuit of Religious Equality Naomi W. Cohen ATLAS OF MODERN JEWISH HISTORY Evyatar Friesel A SIGN AND A WITNESS 2,000 Years of Hebrew Books and Illuminated Manuscripts Paperback edition (co-published with The New York Public Library) Edited by Leonard Singer Gold A CLASH OF HEROES Brandeis, Weizmann, and American Zionism Ben Halpern THE MAKING OF THE JEWISH MIDDLE CLASS Women, Family, and Identity in Imperial Germany Marion A. Kaplan

THE VATICAN AND ZIONISM Conflict in the Holy Land, 1895-1925 Sergio Minerbi ESCAPING THE HOLOCAUST Illegal Immigration to the Land of Israel, 1939-1944 Dalia Ofer CHAIM WEIZMANN The Making of a Zionist Leader Jehuda Reinharz CHAIM WEIZMANN The Making of a Statesman Jehuda Reinharz COURAGE UNDER SIEGE Starvation, Disease, and Death in the Warsaw Ghetto Charles G. Roland LAND AND POWER The Zionist Resort to Force Anita Shapira

THE TRANSFORMATION OF GERMAN JEWRY: 1780-1840 THE MAKING OF CZECH JEWRY National Conflict and Jewish Society in Bohemia, David ]Sorkin 1870-1918 Hillel J. Kieval FOR WHOM DO I TOIL? Judah Leib Gordon and the Crisis of Russian THE ROAD TO MODERN JEWISH POLITICS Jewry Political Tradition and Political Reconstruction Michael F. Stanislawski in the Jewish Community of Tsarist Russia Eli Lederhendler UNWELCOME STRANGERS THE BERLIN JEWISH COMMUNITY Enlightenment, Family, and Crisis, 1770—1830 Steven M. Lowenstein

East European Jews in Imperial Germany Jack Wertheimer

ON MODERN JEWISH POLITICS Ezra Mendelsohn

THE HOLOCAUST The Fate of European Jewry, 1932-1945 Leni Yahil

RESPONSE TO MODERNITY A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism Michael A. Meyer

WILHELM MARR The Patriarch of Antisemitism Moshe Zimmermann

OTHER VOLUMES ARE IN PREPARATION

THE BERLIN JEWISH COMMUNITY Enlightenment, Family, and Crisis, 1770-1830 STEVEN M. LOWENSTEIN

New York Oxford OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 1994

Oxford University Press Oxford New York Toronto Delhi Bombay Calcutta Madras Karachi Kuala Lumpur Singapore Hong Kong Tokyo Nairobi Dar es Salaam Cape Town Melbourne Auckland Madrid and associated companies in Berlin Ibadan

Copyright © 1994 by Steven M. Lowenstein Published by Oxford University Press, Inc., 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016 Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Lowenstein, Steven M., 1945The Berlin Jewish community : enlightenment, family, and crisis, 1770-1830 / Steven M. Lowenstein. p. cm.—(Studies in Jewish history) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-19-508326-1 1. Jews—Germany—Berlin—History—18th century. 2. Jews—Germany—Berlin—History—19th century. 3. Jews—Germany—Berlin—Cultural assimilation. 4. Jews—Germany—Berlin—Emancipation. 5. Berlin (Germany)—Ethnic relations. I. Title. II. Series. DS135.G4B46725 1993 943.1'55004924—dc 20 92-39884 Droste Verlag, DUsseldorf for picture of the Reetzengasse. Leo Baeck Institute, New York for portrait of Rebbeca Itzig. Oesterreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna for portrait of David Friedlander. Jewish Museum, London for "Der Samstag"—]picture of Jews in front of Fiirth Synagogue. Bildarchiv Preussicher Kulturbesitz for Ephraim mansion and for Jewish poorhouse in Berlin. Staatliche Museeun zu Berlin—Preussischer Kulturbesitz-Nationalgalerie for portrait of Henriette Herz. Jewish Museum, New York and W. J. Wittkower, Herzlia, Israel for portrait of Ephraim Markus Ephraim. Dr. Cecile Lowenthal-Hensel, Berlin for portrait of Moses Mendelssohn. Berlin Museum for photo of cup and saucer with pictures of Isaac Daniel Itzig and his mansion, the Bartholdi'sche Meierei.

135798642 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

To Marilynn with gratitude

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Note on the Transliteration of Hebrew

The practice of transliteration used in this volume departs from the usual procedure of transcribing according to the Sephardic (Israeli) pronunciation. Sephardic pronunciation is used here only in the transcription of book titles, of Hebrew terms well known in English, or of Hebrew terms used by myself and not merely transcribed from a text. Wherever a text from the Berlin Jewish communal records (or a literary text in which Hebrew is mixed together with German or Yiddish) is used, the transcription is based on my reconstruction of the pronunciation that would have been used by a Berlin Jew of the time. This means that the Ashkenazic pronunciation system is used, with the addition that holam is transcribed au. Although this transcription may appear strange and a bit hard to read for those used to modern Israeli Hebrew, it has the advantage of greater authenticity. In the case of Yiddish or mixed German-Hebrew texts it is a necessity.

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Acknowledgments This work has been undertaken over a period of more than five years and has benefited from the help and encouragement of a large number of people. Though I have endeavored to be comprehensive in listing those who have aided me in my work, I may have inadvertently omitted some individuals and ask them for their indulgence. My earliest attempt to deal with some of the issues examined in this book was made in an article about the subscribers to Moses Mendelssohn's Bible translation. That article was published in the Hebrew Union College Annual in a volume in honor of Dr. Fritz Bamberger, who has since passed away. It was dedicated to Dr. Bamberger's lifelong interest in the life and work of Moses Mendelssohn. A grant-in-aid from the American Council of Learned Societies made possible some of the travel to foreign archives necessary for this book. I am grateful to the ACLS for its support. In the course of working on Berlin Jewry, I have written a number of articles announcing preliminary findings. I would like to thank the following people and publishers for permission to use the materials contained in those articles in altered form in this volume: Dr. Arnold Paucker, Leo Baeck Institute, London for "Two Silent Minorities: Orthodox Jews and Poor Jews in Berlin, 1770-1823," Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute 36 (1991), 3-25. Prof. Herbert Paper, editor Hebrew Union College Annual for "The Readership of Mendelssohn's Bible Translation," Hebrew Union College Annual 53 (1982), 179-213. Dennis Ford of Scholars Press for the updated version of the article which appears in my book The Mechanics of Change: Essays on the Social History of German Jewry (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992). Prof. Stefi Jersch-Wenzel of the Historische Kommission zu Berlin for "Soziale Aspekte der Krise des Berliner Judentums 1780 bis 1830" in Bild und Slebstbild der Juden Berlins zwischen Aufklarung und Romantik (Berlin: Colloquim Verlag, 1992). Basil Blackwell Publishers for "Jewish Upper Crust and Berlin Jewish Enlightenment—the family of Daniel Itzig," in Frances Malino and David Sorkin (eds.), From East and West: Jews in a Changing Europe 1750-1850 (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1990). This work could not have been completed without the cooperation and help of the staffs of the archives in which I worked. My former colleagues and continuing

X

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

friends at the Leo Baeck Institute archives, Diane Spielman and Frank Mecklenburg, were most helpful, as were the directors of the institute, Fred Grubel and Robert Jacobs. Thanks are also due to Aryeh Segall and his staff at the Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People in Jerusalem for making available the treasures of their archives. Special thanks are due to the director of the Evangelisches Zentralarchiv in Berlin, Dr. Sander, and to his staff, for permitting me to work in their archives beyond the official opening and closing hours of their institution. This made it possible for me to copy the entire "Judenkartei" of baptisms in the very limited time available to me in Berlin. In this connection, I also thank Dr. Stefi Jersch-Wenzel of the Historische Kommission zu Berlin. Not only did she arrange with the Evangelisches Zentralarchiv to allow me to work on the special schedule but she also arranged for a member of the Kommission's staff, Dr. Michael Brenner, to help me find photographic materials for use in this volume. Dr. Brenner's very professional efforts are acknowledged with gratitude. Professors David Ellenson of Hebrew Union College, Los Angeles, Michael Berkowitz, now of Ohio State University, and Michael A. Meyer of Hebrew Union College, Cincinnati, read the entire manuscript of this book in an early stage. All gave me extremely valuable suggestions and corrections, which led to substantial improvement of the manuscript. I thank them for their helpfulness and their continuing friendship. In the course of working on this project, I have had fruitful discussions with many friends, colleagues, and students. While it is impossible to acknowledge them all, I would like to express special thanks to those who were especially helpful. First, thanks are due to Deborah Hertz of the State University of New York at Binghamton, with whom I have had many discussions on this subject, both in person and in correspondence. Although we did not always agree, we always had a useful exchange of information and views. The administration of the University of Judaism has been most encouraging of my work, and I am grateful for their assistance. The editors and staff of Oxford University Press have been both professional and extraordinarily helpful in bringing this book to the point of publication. Among those who are especially deserving of praise are Nancy Lane, senior editor, her assistant Edward Harcourt, Caroline Tzelios, who worked on the cover design, Ellen Fuchs and Susan Hannan, who supervised the editing and production, and Phyllis Skomorowsky who copy edited the manuscript. Thanks are also due to Professor Jehuda Reinharz, editor of the Studies in Jewish History series for Oxford University Press. My mother, Yette Lowenstein, has always been a model of those values of German Jewry that inspired me to devote myself to the study of its heritage. Finally, the greatest thanks of all are due to my wife, Marilynn, and my children, Ruth and Kenny, for their patience and understanding during the many years when I seemed obsessed with Berlin Jews long gone from this world. Without their support, help, and understanding I would not have been able to complete this work. Los Angeles January 1993

S. L.

Contents

Part I

Berlin Before Modernity, 1

1. The Crisis of Berlin Jewry: Introduction to the Problem, 3 2. A Traditional Jewish Community: Berlin Jewry Before the Changes, 10

Part II

The Stage of "Peaceful Modernization", 23

3. The Seven Years War (1756-1763) and the Emergence of a New Economic Elite, 25 4. The Intellectuals of the Berlin Haskala, 33 5. The Lifestyle of Modernizing Berlin Jews, 43 6. Those Outside the Modernizing Groups: Poor Jews and Orthodox Jews in Berlin, 55

Part III

The Crisis of Berlin Jewry, 69

7. The Struggle for Emancipation and Its Radicalizing Impact, 75 8. Intellectual Radicalization and Economic Crisis, 89 9. The Salons, 104 10. The Crisis: Illegitimacy and Family Breakdown, 111

xii

Contents 11. The Crisis—Conversion: Its Scope and Characteristics, 120 12. Religious Reform: An Attempt to Deal with the Crisis, 134

Part IV The Social Analysis of the Crisis and Its Connection to the Enlightenment, 149 13. Family, Ideology, and Crisis: The Personal Connections Between the Enlightened and the Converts, 151 14. Was the Experience of Women Different from Men's Experience?, 162 15. The Aftermath of the Crisis: Berlin Jewry After 1823, 177

Part V Conclusion, 185 Notes, 197 Bibliography, 277 Index, 284

Conclusion, 183

I Berlin Before Modernity

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1 The Crisis of Berlin Jewry: Introduction to the Problem

Few communities of comparable size have received the scholarly attention that the Jews of Berlin in the period 1770-1823 have received from historians of modern Jewry. Virtually every general history of the Jews devotes several pages to the community, and many histories of modern Jewry devote whole chapters. The life of Moses Mendelssohn, the Berlin Haskala (Jewish Enlightenment), the women of the salons, the "epidemic of baptism," the conflict over early religious reform,1 all are the staples of modern Jewish history. The impact of the events has affected Jewish life far beyond Berlin or Germany. Berlin Jewry has served as a model (and also as a cautionary tale) for Jewish communities in Eastern Europe, America, and elsewhere. Debate over the importance and the merit of the changes that took place in Berlin during those generations has been closely tied to ideological battles within Judaism. And yet, the Jewish community of Berlin was relatively small between the years 1770 and 1823. The total number of Jews in Berlin fluctuated, but was never much greater or fewer than 3,500. When compared to a world Jewish population of several million at the time, this seems an infinitesimal number. Even within the areas later to be part of united Germany, Berlin had none of the numeric dominance it was to have later on. Not only were there probably twice as many Jews in Hamburg as in Berlin, there were a number of small cities in the Posen district (such as Lissa, Kempen, etc.)—little more than shtetlekh—whose Jewish population exceeded that of Berlin. Until the period of Mendelssohn, Berlin had not played nearly the role in Jewish history that such communities as Frankfurt, Hamburg, Amsterdam, Prague, or Vienna had. It was not as important either for Jewish intellectual history or for the economic history of the Jews. Although there had been Jews in Berlin throughout much of the Middle Ages, the community had been expelled in the sixteenth century. The beginning of the history of the Berlin Jewish community of modern times

4

BERLIN BEFORE MODERNITY

does not begin until 1671. In that year the Great Elector, Friedrich Wilhelm of Brandenburg, permitted a group of Jews who had been expelled from Vienna to settle in Berlin. Throughout the ensuing 140 years, the Jewish community of Berlin grew, but it was limited in its growth by severe government restrictions on Jewish numbers and Jewish economic activity. Although not confined to a walled ghetto, Berlin's Jews were hemmed in by myriad restrictions, special taxes, and regulations. The story of the modernization crisis of Berlin Jewry comes in three separate but interconnected stages—a premodern stage, a stage of peaceful modernization, and a stage of crisis. In the first half of the eighteenth century, there was little about the Jewish community of Berlin to hint that it would be a pioneer in breaking with tradition. Berlin Jews set up all the institutions of a traditional kehilla (Jewish community)—synagogue, rabbinate, charity societies, and Talmud study institute (Beth Hamidrash). Religious practice, if it differed from that of other communities, tended to be stricter rather than looser. All in all, Berlin was a typical pious Jewish community. There were, however, two aspects of the situation of Berlin Jews that were unusual from the start. One was the nature of the city of Berlin itself. The city experienced explosive population growth during the first half of the eighteenth century—from 17,400 in 1685 to 113,289 in 1750.2 Unlike many other major cities with Jewish populations, Berlin had little in the way of an established patrician class. Its inhabitants were mostly recent migrants attracted by the role of the city as a governmental center, by its royal court, its huge military garrison, and its growing commercial and manufacturing importance. The city had a varied population including, besides thousands of soldiers, a thriving colony of French Huguenot refugees. The many migrants to the city helped to make it an intellectual center as well. By the second half of the eighteenth century it had become the center of the German Enlightenment. The other special aspect of Berlin Jewish life was the result of the severe restrictions imposed on the Jews by Prussian law. These laws favored Jews with wealth over poor Jews and, in fact, divided the Jewish population into groups with different legal status based mainly on wealth. The effect of such laws was to exclude poor Jews. Berlin Jewry was therefore more affluent than most Jewish communities in Central Europe at the time. Despite the special character of Berlin as a boomtown and of Berlin Jewry as especially wealthy, the distinctiveness of Berlin Jewry did not become evident until the second half of the eighteenth century. In fact, the changes that Berlin Jewry underwent were remarkable for their rapidity, even suddenness. When Moses Mendelssohn arrived in the city in 1743, there was little to suggest the momentous changes that would take place. The first important changes in Berlin Jewish life were associated with the Seven Years War (1756-1763). During those years, a small group of Jewish families became extremely rich and rose to positions of dominance in Berlin Jewish life. Unlike earlier groups of wealthy Jews, they soon began to try to live a life that would correspond in its opulence and its culture to the life of non-Jewish patri-

Introduction to the Problem

5

cians in Berlin. It was in the years immediately before the Seven Years War that Mendelssohn published his first Enlightenment works. In the years after the war, the new Berlin Jewish patricians would be among the chief supporters of Mendelssohn and his Haskala followers. The emergence of a Haskala milieu (as opposed to the rather isolated brilliance of Mendelssohn alone) can be dated to the 1770s.3 It was then that a group of intellectuals, some born in Berlin, others migrants from various places, began to gather in the city and pursue their intellectual activities using both the German and the Hebrew languages. This Haskala circle continued to grow and flourish for most of the rest of the century. Berlin became a center of Jewish intellectual activity and the source of numerous publications concerning Jewish matters written under the influence of the Enlightenment. At first the spread of a new lifestyle and of the Jewish Enlightenment ideology proceeded calmly, with little opposition within the community. Under the rather conservative leadership of men like Mendelssohn and Hartwig Wessely and with the support of the Jewish patricians, Berlin Jewry was moving toward a way of life that combined openness to German culture and preservation of Jewish religious tradition. Though there were certainly circles of Berlin Jews who did not participate in the changes in cultural orientation, there was little in the way of a clear break between a modernist and a traditionalist party in Berlin during Mendelssohn's lifetime. In fact, what was most noticeable in this stage of modernization was the harmony between the Berlin Jewish establishment and the forces of modernity. The death of both Mendelssohn and King Frederick II in 1786 marked the beginning of a new phase in the life of the community. It was around this time, with the coming to the throne of Friedrich Wilhelm II, that the campaign of Berlin Jews for wider rights, and eventually for full emancipation, began in earnest. Despite much disagreement and initial disappointments, this movement, led by Mendelssohn's closest disciple, David Friedlander, reached its fruition in the granting of broad civic rights to Prussian Jews in 1812. The prospect of a possible integration of Prussian Jewry into society as a whole seems to have been one of the inducements that led the Berlin Enlightenment into more radical directions. The political goal of emancipation, the absence of the restraining hand of Mendelssohn, and the changes in the sexual mores of society at large helped usher in a revolutionary stage in the development of Jewish modernity in Berlin. This more radical phase of the modernist movement soon led to division and to a sense of crisis within the Berlin Jewish community. The confidence of the earlier Enlightenment that change would progress steadily and with little conflict now seemed overoptimistic. Haskala publications became outspoken in their criticism of traditional Jewish institutions and religious practices. Many wealthy and Enlightened Berlin Jews began to drop the practice of such Jewish rituals as observing the dietary laws and the Sabbath. Disappointed with the slow progress of legal emancipation and the lack of reform of Jewish communal and religious affairs, some Enlightenment figures pushed more and more desperate and radical measures. Characteristic of the

6

BERLIN BEFORE MODERNITY

most extreme views was the famous letter to Dean Teller of 1799 by David Friedlander, which proposed acceptance of baptism if it did not also require acceptance of the nonrational dogmas of Christianity. In this period after the death of Mendelssohn, other changes in Jewish behavior seemed to indicate the approach of a crisis. The family, traditionally the bulwark of Judaism, began to show signs of strain. Often there was a great cultural gap between the older and the younger generations, who differed in dress, speech patterns, religious practice, and cultural attitudes. Many in the younger generation not only became attracted to the culture of the non-Jewish world but also developed personal attachments outside the Jewish community. Love affairs between Jews and Christians became more common. Often these affairs produced children out of wedlock or resulted in conversions to Christianity so that marriage could be undertaken (intermarriage was illegal). But the attraction of Christianity was not restricted to those wishing to marry. Whole families, especially among the upper classes, converted. Conversion seemed for many to be "an entrance ticket into European culture"4 or to clear away the obstacles to career advancement or to be a means to procure social acceptance. To many it seemed that there was a Taufepidemie (epidemic of baptisms) going on in Berlin between 1780 and 1830. Conversions were only one aspect of the challenge to Jewish tradition, however. Marriages seemed less stable, and the divorce rate climbed. Sexual freedom, which reached its height in Berlin during the reign of Friedrich Wilhelm II, became increasingly characteristic of Jewish sexual mores. The role of women, too, seemed to be undergoing rapid change. Traditionally confined mainly to a domestic role, or to certain aspects of economic life, many women began to desire independence in both social and cultural life. The acquisition of Western culture seemed especially noticeable among upper-class Jewish women. The salons headed by wealthy Jewish women became centers of the social and intellectual life of the city. They became meeting places for aristocrats, intellectuals, and Jews, and they had an important role in furthering early Romanticism. Salon women, including Mendelssohn's own daughter, were prominent in the circles most affected by conversion and libertinage. The period of the salons seems to have ended around 1806, the victim of a change in general mores and of a growing anti-Jewish sentiment. After 1806 waves of libertinage and illegitimacy within the Jewish community slowly began to abate. The trend to accept baptism, however, did not disappear but continued to increase until around 1830. With the granting of citizenship in 1812, new movements arose within the Jewish community. These efforts to come to grips with the growing sense of crisis and its implied threat to Jewish continuity at the same time produced new divisions in the community. Berlin Jewry was racked by conflict over reforms in the synagogue service. The Beer-Jacobson reform temple in Berlin was one of the first of its kind in the world. The reform movement aroused intense opposition among the traditionalist minority in the community. After almost nine years of dissension, the orthodox were victorious, with the aid of the royal government, which in 1823 forbade all religious innovations. Another movement, involving far fewer people than the movement for liturgical reform, but having almost as much intel-

Introduction to the Problem

7

lectual influence, was the beginning of modern Jewish scholarship exemplified by the Verein fur Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden, which flourished briefly, between the years 1819 and 1823. Besides these manifold changes in the life of the Jewish community, there was much else that was noteworthy in the lives of individual Berlin Jews of the time. The community produced or attracted a number of people who played leading roles in the culture of early nineteenth century Europe—most noteworthy among them Felix Mendelssohn, Giacomo Meyerbeer, and Heinrich Heine. After 1823 the government's opposition to innovation put a damper on cultural change in Berlin Jewry. Orthodoxy, though only a weak social and intellectual force in the Berlin of the 1820s and 1830s, regained its dominance in the official community. Increasing migration of Jews from the provinces, especially the eastern provinces, replenished the traditionalist forces. By the 1830s the sense of crisis began to dissipate. The community no longer seemed in danger of dissolution at the hands of the forces of assimilation and conversion. It also no longer seemed the brilliant cultural and intellectual center that it had been. The story outlined above has been told frequently in studies on Jewish history. Some aspects of its unfolding have been the object of intense debate. Some debates concern factual matters—was the wave of baptisms really an epidemic? How many were converted and when was the peak of the conversion wave reached? Other debates are more ideological—did the Enlightenment and other forms of religious liberalism inevitably lead to assimilation and crisis? Was the role of the salons beneficial or immoral and dangerous? This study does not seek to answer the ideological questions underlying much of the debate over the Berlin Haskala. Its purpose, rather, is to give a clear picture of the nature of the events that took place among Berlin Jewry in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Unlike other monographs, this book does not concentrate on a single aspect of the changes but tries to look at the interrelationships among the various events and movements. Also unlike many other works, its main methodology is not the analysis of intellectual positions and their mutual influences. Instead, I have chosen to use the methods of social history to analyze the various aspects of the crisis of Berlin Jewry. Specifically, the study is based on a collective biography of the entire Jewish community of Berlin. It is not necessary to resort to small samples of the population as examples of the whole. It is feasible to cover the entire community because of a number of favorable circumstances. First, the Jewish community, with only 3,500 members, was relatively small. Second, the documentation on the community is so rich and varied that it is possible to trace all sorts of behavior, including the activities that help indicate ideological affiliation. Among the documentation that I have been able to use are the following: tax lists of the Jewish community for every three years from 1723 to 1789 as well as for the year 1809; subscription lists to a number of important Hebrew Enlightenment works;5 a list of all Jewish inhabitants of Berlin in 1812 with their family relationships and their choice of family names; address lists for Berlin Jews in 1744 and 1812; the kosher meat tax list for 1814; genealogical information on all Jewish marriages in the years 1759-1813; baptismal records of Jews converting to Christianity between 1770 and

8

BERLIN BEFORE MODERNITY

1830; the list of those affiliated with the Jacobson-Beer temple in 1818; and much more.6 The idea is to look for the connections between various aspects of change— economic change, participation in Enlightenment activities, conversion, marital and childbearing practices, pro- or antireform affiliations, and religious practice—and to see the personal relationships of those involved in the various activities. I have chosen not simply to compare aggregates of population (for instance, comparing bankers on the subscription lists with bankers in the baptismal records).7 Instead, relying on the very complete available genealogical records, I have traced family relationships as well as the activities of individuals.8 The behavior of whole family groups can be analyzed singly, but it is also susceptible to statistical analysis in the aggregate. It seemed to me that family groups were crucial units for the transmission of cultural values and traditions. By comparing the activities and social position of one generation with the activities of their descendants and collateral relatives, we could get an idea of the effects of the behavior of one generation on the behavior of the next. Using the techniques of collective biography, I was able to come to what I think are definitive conclusions about the nature of Berlin Jewry and the dimensions and general mechanisms of the crisis of Berlin Jewry. We can see approximately how the income structure of the Berlin Jewish community looked and how much of the community actively supported the Enlightenment or the movement for religious reform. We can settle once and for all the exact dates of the wave of baptisms, as well as the percentage of Berlin Jews affected by it, and can delineate changes in the nature of the conversion movement over time.9 Perhaps most important of all, the method of collective biography helps to answer the question of the connection between the "peaceful stage" of Enlightenment and the crisis that followed it. Many historians have built up a case based on such impressionistic evidence as the conversion of four of Mendelssohn's six surviving children or the divorce, romantic liaison, and conversion of his daughter Dorothea von Schlegel. By tracing large numbers of families we can now tell whether such cases were typical or peculiar. We can compare the number of converts among the children of subscribers to Enlightenment works and the children of members of orthodox organizations. We can see what the personal connections were between the converts and those who chose the reform and orthodox sides around 1815. We can look at social and family characteristics of each of the groups and can compare the relative influence of wealth, Enlightenment affiliation, and occupation, among other aspects of lifestyle, on the religious behavior and likelihood of conversion of children. Much of the argument in this study is based on the statistical information arising from the collective biography. In many cases such information can be illustrated as well by citing the behavior of specific families that seemed typical or striking cases of general trends. The collective biography, because it relies almost exclusively on behavior rather than directly observable attitudes, can only indirectly acquaint us with the motivations that led individuals, families, and groups to act the way they did. The statistical material has been enriched wherever possible by use of memoirs of the period as well as by travel accounts and other

Introduction to the Problem

9

literature that acquaint us with the attitudes of the time. Also available were the printed minute book of the Jewish community and many other archival records of the organized community. This "qualitative" material is much less copious than the quantitative material, and it is not nearly as representative of the community as a whole, but it provides an essential supplement to the quantitative material. It enables us to test some of the implications of the statistical material. The end result of this method is a clearer picture of the process by which Berlin became the first major Jewish community to undergo massive "modernization." The role of family relationships, the influence of the choices of one generation on those of the next, the chronological divisions in, and social influences on, the changes and the crisis they produced can be delineated. Still, the results cannot resolve the ideological debates about the merits of the reform or orthodox party or about the success or failure of either as a bulwark against assimilation. As will be seen later, the newly discovered facts can be interpreted variously depending on the viewpoint of the observer. Though some of the debate on the magnitude of the crisis and on the influences that made it unfold as it did may be settled here, the debate of value judgments about the success or failure of the Berlin Haskala or the Berlin salons will undoubtedly continue.

2 A Traditional Jewish Community: Berlin Jewry Before the Changes

There was little in the life of Berlin Jewry during its early years, or even in the first third of the eighteenth century, to indicate that Berlin would be the first Ashkenazic Jewish community to break with tradition. Even in the 1740s and early 1750s, Berlin Jewry was still overwhelmingly traditional. In fact, the Berlin Jewish community of the first half of the eighteenth century may very well have been more traditional than many others. In any case, it would seem that "modernity," however defined, came to Berlin Jewry suddenly rather than gradually. A number of historians, notably Azriel Shohat, have searched for precursors to the changes that took place in German Jewry in the second half of the eighteenth century and thereafter. From their work, a picture has emerged of a traditional society already in the early stages of decay in the first half of the eighteenth century. There was a decline in otherworldliness and asceticism, a lack of respect for traditional authority, a laxity in observance of ritual law, and a growing interest in secular culture. Although some of the phenomena pointed out by Shohat are open to argument, many are undoubtedly true. The bulk of Shohat's examples, however, do not come from Berlin but from such other cities as Hamburg-Altona or even from the countryside.1 It would seem that the scenario of gradual decline in tradition and the gradual rise of a more modern lifestyle is less applicable to Berlin than to other parts of German Jewry. The conventional date for the founding of the modern Berlin Jewish community is 1671,2 the year in which Elector Friedrich Wilhelm ("the Great Elector") of Brandenburg permitted a group of fifty Jewish families who had been expelled from Vienna to settle in his territory. There had been Jewish communities in medieval Berlin, but they had been expelled on several occasions, the last time in 1573. The first eighty years of the new Berlin Jewish communities are marked by a number of characteristics that differentiated that period from the years that followed. It was a time of rapid growth in numbers, of deteriorating legal status, of

Berlin Jewry Before the Changes

11

strong religious and cultural traditionalism, and of conflict within the Jewish elite. The period beginning in the 1750s and 1760s would see a reversal of all these traits. It was only then that we can begin to see the characteristics that made Berlin a distinctively modernizing community. Earlier there were few hints of momentous change.

Increasingly Severe Governmental Restrictions The original decree of admission of 1671 foresaw a small Jewish community with relatively broad rights. Fifty Jewish families were to be admitted to the Kurmark (central Brandenburg) for a period of twenty years. They were to be permitted to buy or rent houses and to deal in cloth, clothing, and groceries in open shops and at fairs. They would each have to pay an annual protection tax (Schutzgeld) of 8 Taler and were freed from the humiliating Leibzoll (body toll). Although not permitted at first to build a public synagogue, they could worship in private homes and could slaughter kosher meat. The Jews were not the only "foreign colony" admitted to Brandenburg by the Great Elector. Bohemian, Dutch, and, especially, French Huguenot colonists were also admitted. Although the conditions for the admission of Jews were relatively generous compared with the conditions for Jews elsewhere, they were far less favorable than those of the French colony admitted by the decree of Potsdam of 1685. Like the Jews, the French colonists had their own places of worship, their own courts and organizations, and their own educational institutions. Unlike the Jews, they were not subject to special taxation and not limited in numbers, and they were eligible for all state offices. The French colony, which in the eighteenth century numbered about 5,000 in Berlin alone, helped to make Berlin a cosmopolitan city and presents a fascinating community to compare with the Jews.3 The relatively favorable legal conditions of Brandenburg Jewry, and even more, the great economic opportunities to be found in the rapidly expanding city of Berlin, attracted a growing Jewish population. Although the Brandenburg4 government wished to have a Jewish colony in Berlin to help build up its economy, it was often disturbed by the growth of the community. Christian merchant guilds and other competitors of the Jews showered the government with demands for restriction of both the size of the Jewish community and its economic activity. The periodic attempts by the Prussian government to limit Jewish population created an oppressive atmosphere for Prussian Jews, but, in the nature of things, these attempts were doomed to failure. In principle, the government wished to stick with the original limits on numbers of families. However, if the children of the original families married and took over their parents' residency rights, the numbers would automatically grow. In addition, the government was often tempted to grant additional residence permits to newcomers who offered it financial inducements or who seemed likely to make a special contribution to the economy. Since Berlin was still an underpopulated town recovering from the devastations of the Thirty Years War in 1671, there was little attempt to limit population in the early years. By 1700 the city had three

12

BERLIN BEFORE MODERNITY

times as many people as it had had in 1680.5 There were about 1,000 Jews in Berlin alone, despite the supposed limit of fifty families in all of Brandenburg. Reluctantly the government agreed to increases in the set number of families to 100 and then to 120. It also attempted to put some limits on natural increase. The law of 1714 allowed Jews with residence permits to settle one son or daughter, and permitted a second child with 1,000 Taler in capital and a third child with 2,000 to marry and acquire residence rights on payment of a special tax. These requirements were later tightened. The periodic attempts to restrict the growth of the Berlin community from immigration and natural increase reached a head under King Friedrich Wilhelm I (1713-1740). His decree of 1737 ordered a reduction of the Jewish population from 180 to 120 families. The 1,761 Jewish residents of Berlin were to be reduced to 1,187, all of them to be registered in a government list. Three hundred eightyseven Jews seem actually to have been expelled from the city.6 An earlier law (in 1730) had excluded third sons from residency and allowed daughters residency only if there were no sons. These restrictions were tightened even further in 1747 under Frederick II ("Frederick the Great"). Only one child could be settled legally by each family. The infamous General-Privilegium of 1750 codified the restrictions in a particularly strict form. The government now distinguished between 203 families of Ordinarii who could settle one child if they had 1,000 Taler in capital, and 63 families of Extraordinarii, none of whose children could inherit their rights. Even younger children of Ordinarii could live with their parents during their lifetime but could not acquire residence rights or marry.7 The increasingly efficient Prussian bureaucracy with its lists and records of changes in Jewish population was becoming better informed of goings on in the Jewish community and was therefore better able to enforce its regulations. The progressive tightening of residence laws had little success in controlling the growth of the Berlin community. Even the expulsions of 1737 seem to have had little effect. The tax lists of the Jewish community show a progressive and rapid growth, averaging between 1.4 and 2.9 percent annually (and usually above 2 percent) for the period 1733 to 1764. In those thirty-one years the number of Jewish taxpayers almost doubled (from 223 to 437) at a time when the general population of the city increased only about 60 percent.8 Paradoxically, in the last third of the century, when legal restrictions began to be loosened, the increase in Jewish population virtually came to an end.9 It was not only the rapidly growing Jewish population that came under ever stricter control; the economic life of the community, too, felt the heavy hand of the Prussian state. This was felt both in the realm of special taxation and in regulations of economic activity. Originally Jews had to pay only 8 Taler per family Schutzgeld for their residence permits. As the Prussian government's need for funds increased, the amount of special taxation on the Jews was increased as well. In 1728 the 8 Taler per family was converted into a tax of 15,000 Taler on all Jews in Prussia, for which all the Jews were collectively responsible. It was calculated at the rate of 14'/2 Taler per family, and Berlin Jews were responsible for 2,610 Taler of the total.10

Berlin Jewry Before the Changes

13

The Schutzgeld was raised to 25,000 (20 Taler per family) in 1765. By 1773 the share paid by Berlin Jewry had increased to 8,210 Reichstaler.11 In addition to these regular taxes, additional "special taxes" were often extorted from the Jewish communities. When Friedrich Wilhelm I came to power in 1713, the Jews of Prussia had to pay 20,000 Taler for confirmation of their privileges. In 1714 they paid 8,000 Taler to prevent a law requiring all Jews to wear red hats. In 1720 they gave 20,000 Taler as a "free gift." Under Frederick the Great these special levies continued, culminating in a payment of 70,000 Reichstaler in 1764 in exchange for the right to settle a second child. The Prussian Jews were also required at various times to deliver silver to the government mint at below market prices.12 Especially annoying was the requirement, introduced in 1769, that Jews acquiring new residency or other rights purchase a large quantity of porcelain from the royal porcelain works and sell it outside the country.13 Even more oppressive than the special taxes were the growing restrictions on Jewish occupational rights. The Great Elector seemed to have been motivated by a procommercial, relatively free trade policy. His successors, especially Friedrich Wilhelm I and Frederick the Great, were influenced much more by a paternalistic, mercantilist philosophy. All the rulers were subject to the demands by the competitors of the Jews for restrictions in their activities. As early as the 1720s, Jews were forbidden to engage in the sale of groceries and spices. Attempts were made beginning in 1718 to limit the number of shops Jews could have in Berlin. In 1727 they were forbidden to buy wool for resale or to engage in rural peddling. By the 1740s they were excluded from all wool trading. All crafts except seal engraving and gold and silver working were forbidden to them. The general Jewry laws of 1730 and 1750 specified in bewildering detail the products that Jewish merchants could or could not sell.14 Other laws limited the number of houses Jews could own in Berlin to forty. The Jews were held collectively responsible for the payment of taxes beginning in 1728, and for thefts, sale of stolen goods, and fraudulent bankruptcies in 1750. All Jews would have to pay the amount owed by the tax delinquent, thief, or fraudulent bankrupt.15 The General-Privilegium of 1750, which remained the basic law for Prussian Jewry until the Emancipation Law of 1812, was called by the French revolutionary Count Honore de Mirabeau a "law worthy of cannibals." By the middle of the eighteenth century the Jews of Prussia, especially those of Berlin, were living under a bureaucratic regime that controlled their most basic human rights—the rights to marry, buy property, or engage in business. The legal condition of the midcentury was much worse than it had been at the beginning of the century. Although, theoretically, little changed until the end of the century, changes in the Prussian economy after midcentury would help improve the position of at least a wealthy minority of the community. Creation of a Traditional Communal Structure Despite the legal restrictions, the Jews of Berlin were able to create a thriving Jewish community. As soon as they could, they created all the Jewish traditional institu-

14

BERLIN BEFORE MODERNITY

tions. The first rabbi of the community was chosen as early as 1672. In the same year the community bought land for a cemetery on the corner of Grosser Hamburger and Oranienburgerstrasse. In 1676 the Burial Society (Chevra Kadisha deGomlei Chasadim) was founded and the first Jewish burial took place. In 1704 the society for the care for the sick (Bikur Cholim) came into existence. This society later acquired its own hospice and engaged the services of two physicians.16 Because of governmental restrictions and conflict within the community, however, it was not until 1714 that a community synagogue was dedicated on the Heidereutergasse. The creation of traditional Jewish organizations continued well into the second quarter of the eighteenth century. By 1723 the community already had separate funds for Eretz Israel (land of Israel) and Talmud Torah (for poor students). In 1728 a fund for the poor of the city of Hebron was created separate from the Eretz Israel fund. Much more costly was the creation in 1743-1744 of a Beth Hamidrash (Talmud study house) in the city. The Beth Hamidrash was housed in its own building adjacent to the synagogue and chose three rabbis whose job it was to "occupy themselves day and night with the Torah."17 The Jewish community of Berlin was governed by a group of elders (parnassim; five at first, later fewer), with their assistants (tovim and ikkuritri). In addition there were four (later five) charity wardens (gabba'ei tzedaka) as well as a number of treasurers (govim) and auditors (ro'ei cheshbonot). In important matters these officials consulted assemblies of community members (yechidei segula).ls The main communal officials were elected by a cumbersome combination of lot and ballot, which favored the wealthier members of the community. Seven electors were chosen by lot—three (later four) from the richest tax class, two from the middle class, and two (later one) from the poorest tax class. These seven then chose the main officials of the community. The rabbi and other communal employees (assistant rabbis [dayanim], cantors, beadles [shamashim], ritual slaughterers, butchers, doctors, grave diggers, etc.) were chosen by the officials, sometimes with the approval of larger assemblies, and were paid by the community. The community had a rabbinic court of three, which judged disputes between community members and had the right to impose fines and excommunication, settle questions of inheritance, marriage, and divorce, and determine questions of religious law. Among the beadle's jobs was to summon community members to the rabbinic court.19 The community raised its main revenues from several sources. Voluntary contributions from ritual honors (mitzvot) and other donations or legacies seem to have played a minor role. The main revenues came from communal taxes. All householders and widows were assessed every three years on their property (Erech) by a commission of members. These assessments were originally collected monthly but were soon increased to as many as forty-four times a year. A part of this tax on capital could be paid by a credit from the individual member's payment to the other main communal tax, the Pardon, which was a consumption tax assessed mainly on kosher meat.20 From the money raised from these sources a considerable proportion was used to pay governmental taxes, and the rest went to the communal budget.21

Berlin Jewry Before the Changes

15

These traditional institutions continued in existence with little change until the Emancipation decree of 1812 and, to some extent, even beyond. The Traditional Ethos of Berlin Jewry The Berlin Jewish community in the early eighteenth century was traditional not only in its institutions but also in its religious practice and ethos. Attendance at daily and weekly services was common. The main synagogue seems not to have sufficed. Despite recurring governmental and communal attempts to forbid private services, such private synagogues (minyanim) were usually to be found in considerable numbers. In 1774 the total number of such prayer meetings was no fewer than twenty-two.22 Such ascetic practices as the twice yearly fasts of MondayThursday-Monday seem to have been widely practiced, at least in the 1720s.23 The half-holidays of Passover were days with enough synagogue attendance for communal election results to be announced after services. As for Sabbath services, they were held very early during the summer months (6:30 A.M.) so as to observe the traditional regulations on times of prayer.24 In general, observance of traditional Jewish ritual in Berlin was strict. Regulations on kosher meat issued in 1729 show that only "glatt kosher" meat was permitted in the city in contrast to more lenient practices in neighboring small towns.25 The observance of traditional Sabbath and family purity laws were taken for granted.26 The traditional role of the rabbi was seen as that of heading the rabbinical court and caring for traditional learning. The contracts appointing new rabbis delight in describing their traditional rabbinic talents. They praise the fact that they teach the law with "sharp pilpul" (bepilpulo chariftd) and that they have great knowledge of "both revealed and secret knowledge" (benigloh uvenistero), i.e., both of Halacha and Kabbala.27 In general Berlin was not a center of Talmudic learning like Prague, HamburgAltona, Frankfurt am Main, Furth, or Metz. Few of the rabbis of Berlin had the scholarly stature of Ezekiel Landau of Prague, Jonathan Eibeschiitz of Altona, or Jacob Emden of Altona. The two most distinguished rabbis of Berlin in the eighteenth century were Joshua Falk (author of P'nei Yehoshud), rabbi from 1731 to 1734, and David Fraenkel (author of Korban Ha'eda—a commentary on the Jerusalem Talmud), rabbi from 1743 to 1762. Fraenkel, who was Moses Mendelssohn's teacher, was a man with many wealthy relatives in Berlin, including Veitel Heine Ephraim, the later communal elder. He had considerable influence in the community; the founding of the Beth Hamidrash occurred at the time of his appointment as rabbi. Traditional Messianic and Jewish national attitudes were often expressed by communal leaders throughout the first two-thirds of the eighteenth century. The communal minute book on several occasions speaks of the Jews as a nation in exile—the last time in 1802. Other documents declare commitments that shall last "until the Messiah shall come."28 Besides such examples of traditional language and stereotyped traditional concepts, there are even documents from the middle of

16

BERLIN BEFORE MODERNITY

the eighteenth century that see the coming of the Messiah as a concrete possibility for the near future, and include clauses in contracts on how to act in case the Messiah arrives.29 The widespread agreement on traditional religious practices and attitudes did not prevent the community from being riven by internal dissension. Disputes and factionalism among the leadership were common from the very beginning. In the early years of the community, the descendants of the Viennese refugees and the rest of the community were sharply divided and could not even agree on the appointment of a rabbi. The building of the community synagogue was delayed for years by a division in the community, which resulted in the creation of two and later four private synagogues. Each of the two main court Jews of the period, Jost Liebmann and Markus Magnus, had his own party. After Liebmann's death, his widow continued the dispute and refused to give up her own private synagogue even when a communal synagogue was built. Often these disputes deteriorated into insults and brawls in the synagogue, some of which came to the attention of the government.30 Such disputes within the Berlin Jewish elite continued throughout the first ninety years of the community's existence. They often interfered with communal business and resulted in numerous challenges to communal elections—in 1698, 1743, 1750, and 1759, to name the most obvious occasions.31 Often the disputes involved personal hatreds among the wealthiest members of the community.32 Seemingly the last disputes occurred in 1762, after which date the elite that dominated the Jewish community seems to have lived in considerable harmony.33

The Jewish Neighborhood The Jews of Berlin did not live in a closed ghetto or Judengasse.34 The one attempt to ghettoize the Jews—in 1737—seems to have been more a move to extort money from them than to enforce restricted residence.35 Originally Berlin was made up of two separate cities, Berlin north of the Spree and Kolln on an island in the river. Later additional sections with their own municipal rights came into existence—Friedrichswerder, Neukolln, and Dorotheenstadt—which eventually were combined into a single city in 1709. For the first hundred years after the readmission of Jews to Berlin in 1671 (and even longer), virtually all Jews lived in the Berlin section (hereafter called Alt Berlin). Whether this was the result of a legal requirement has not been determined by historians.36 In this area, which housed people of all classes, the Jews lived among a mainly non-Jewish population. In 1777, for instance, the civil population of Alt Berlin was about 22,000, of whom between 3,000 and 3,500 were Jews.37 The neighborhood was served by two parish churches, Nikolaikirche and Marienkirche. It was also the site of the Berlin city hall. The royal palace in Kolln was in easy walking distance from the neighborhood. Within Alt Berlin some Jews lived on the important main streets like Spandauerstrasse and Konigstrasse or on the market places Neuemarkt and Molkenmarkt. In the early eighteenth century, however, the bulk of Jews lived in the less desirable

Main streets in Air Berlin.

18

BERLIN BEFORE MODERNITY

back streets of the neighborhood. This is made clear by an address list from the year 1744. While 114 households are listed on the prestigious main streets, a slightly larger number are to be found on various back alleys and small streets, and large numbers (102) are concentrated on two other not very prestigious small streets— Rosenstrasse and Jiidenstrasse.38 The synagogue itself was on the Heidereutergasse, a back street between Rosenstrasse and Spandauerstrasse. The Jews were not concentrated in one part of the neighborhood, though they tended to cluster near the synagogue and north of the Molkenmarkt on the other side of the neighborhood (the later police district 2).

Economic Structure The Jewish community of Berlin, almost from its beginning, had the reputation of being a wealthy community. The historian Ludwig Geiger reports that in 1737 only ten of the legally recognized family heads possessed less than 1,000 Taler in capital and that some had as much as 20,000.39 Naturally, the legal restrictions in Prussia, which favored families with capital and tried to get rid of the Jewish poor, encouraged this development. These regulations were probably more strictly enforced in Berlin than elsewhere, and certain money requirements were higher there than in small towns. But the greater wealth of Berlin Jewry probably had more to do with the economic opportunities of the city than with legal restrictions. The distribution of wealth was always uneven within the community. During the early years, court Jews from the Liebmann, Gumpertz, and Magnus families, among others, played very important roles economically and in the community. They lent money to the royal family, supplied them with jewels, and sometimes even got involved with coining money and other government business. The bulk of the members of the Berlin community in the early eighteenth century were, of course, not court Jews. In 1718 the government listed over fifty-five individual Jews who had businesses open to the public. These were about evenly divided between stores (Laden) and market stalls (Budeii). Most of the Jewish businesses sold various kinds of cloth and other dry goods. Some cut to order; others sold old clothes. These fifty-five open businesses probably employed about half of the Jewish community of the time.40 In 1737 the government listed all Berlin Jewish families with their occupations. Of 120 family heads, the largest number (almost half of the total) were in the cloth trade, especially linens, or sold clothing.41 Other fairly common occupations were money changer (an early form of banker), pawnbroker, embroiderer, and silver deliverer for the mint.42 Besides these 120 heads of family, there were sixty-nine communal employees ranging from rabbis to beadles, gravediggers, hospice orderlies, slaughterers and butchers, bakers, and scribes. The community also had 131 maid servants and forty-six commercial assistants (Knechte). The total official population was 1,187. There was only one manufacturer listed. The wealthiest Jews in Berlin at the time either were in the silk trade or were money changers.43

Berlin Jewry Before the Changes

19

The Special Nature of the City of Berlin Though the Berlin Jewish community of the first half of the eighteenth century still seemed little different from other traditional communities, the city in which it was located embodied certain qualities that would make possible the changes that came about later. Berlin was a rapidly growing city in a rapidly growing country. Up to the middle of the seventeenth century, Berlin had been a relatively small town, the capital of the small electorate of Brandenburg. With the expansion of Brandenburg, and its transformation into the Kingdom of Prussia in 1703, the city began to expand greatly. Whereas in the early seventeenth century it never exceeded 12,000 inhabitants, it had over 20,000 by 1690, 50,000 by 1709, and 100,000 by 1747.44 The Prussian kingdom continued to grow in the middle eighteenth century, gaining the important provinces of Silesia in 1740 and West Prussia in 1772. Since it was such a rapidly growing city, Berlin had little of the entrenched urban patriciate so typical of the imperial free cities of Frankfurt, Hamburg, Niirnberg, or Bremen with their proud traditions of independence and their unwillingness to accept "new men." In Berlin, almost everyone was new to the city. The elites were much more open to admitting new groups than in the more established cities. Berlin was also more cosmopolitan than most German cities, because of the presence of a number of "foreign colonies" in its midst. Besides the Jews, there were some 5,000 in the colony of French Huguenots admitted in 1685 and about 1,000 in the Bohemian colony. The city had also been the refuge of Protestants from Salzburg fleeing Austrian persecution in 1732.45 Of these various colonies, the French were especially influential in the cultural and economic life of the city. A number of them were admitted to the inner circles of Berlin society. The new inhabitants of the city were attracted by a number of factors. First of all, Berlin was a growing administrative center. Many Prussian noblemen and educated bureaucrats came to the city to participate in various aspects of the Prussian government. Second, Berlin was becoming an important commercial center, and the Prussian government did all it could to ensure that East-West trade passed through it rather than its rivals in the region. In addition, Berlin was the center of the fledgling industries encouraged by the mercantilist policies of kings Friedrich Wilhelm I and Frederick II. The silk and cotton industries of Prussia, especially, were centered in the city during the eighteenth century. Finally, Berlin was the military center of what was becoming one of the most important military powers in Europe. The huge garrison in the city made up close to a quarter of the city population. In 1780, there were over 30,000 in the garrison, including wives and children of soldiers.46 The officer corps of the garrison consisted mainly of noblemen. Many of the regular soldiers were quite poor. Both officers and enlisted men provided a lively addition to the commercial and social life of the city. Because so many of its members were young and unmarried, they also constituted an unsettling element to the family life of the city. The presence of the royal court in or near the city, and its attraction of government officials, army officers, as well as merchants and manufacturers, helped give

20

BERLIN BEFORE MODERNITY

impetus to both the social and the intellectual life of the city. The royal palaces at Berlin and nearby Potsdam provided one kind of entertainment with their balls, dances, and other activities for those who were admissible to court, but they were soon rivaled by less exclusive types of entertainment and sociability. The growth of coffeehouses, theaters, and private clubs and reading circles created many more open places for the middle and upper classes to meet. The growing role of Berlin as an intellectual center went together with the development of the newer forms of sociability. Despite the fact that Berlin did not have a university in the eighteenth century, it nevertheless served as a magnet for German intellectuals and, by the middle of the century, had become the center of the German Enlightenment. Besides bringing together the many educated government officials working for the Prussian administration, the royal government of Frederick the Great provided other attractions to intellectuals. Frederick himself dabbled in Enlightenment culture and was a dilettante poet, musician, and deist philosopher. Frederick, who was a marked Francophile, greatly expanded the influence of the royal academy of Prussia and attracted a number of leading French philosophes including the Marquis d'Argens, Maupertuis, and, for a time, Voltaire. The Enlightenment circles in Berlin were by no means restricted to the king and the academy. By the middle of the eighteenth century, the city was attracting Enlightenment intellectuals from all over the German-speaking world, many of whom settled in the city. Among leading Enlightenment thinkers in Berlin in 1750, besides the above-mentioned Frenchmen, were such luminaries as Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, Christoph Friedrich Nicolai, Johann Georg Sulzer, and the poet Karl Wilhelm Ramler. By the 1760s even leaders of the Lutheran church in Berlin like Johann Joachim Spalding and Wilhelm Abraham Teller were followers of the Enlightenment. It was not long before Berlin began to have the reputation of dangerous liberalism in the eyes of many orthodox Christians. The term la religion de Berlin came to be a synonym for deism.47 It was around the middle of the century, too, that Enlightened intellectuals began to create institutions of sociability of their own. The Monday Club of twenty-four leading intellectuals was founded in 1749. In 1755 a more informal "Learned Coffeehouse" was founded, which lasted several years. In the 1780s these organizations would be joined by others such as the journal Berlinische Monatschrift (founded 1783) and the semisecret Wednesday Society.48 Berlin was slow to develop a full-fledged professional theater, but once theatrical institutions were established they played an important role in the social and intellectual life of the city. There was a theater at the royal palace but it was not open to the public. Frederick the Great also favored the French comedy and allowed the traveling troupe of Schoenemann to put on performances. No permanent German-language theater was founded in the city, however, until 1771. This theater later received royal recognition as the national theater.-49 The period of the flowering of the Enlightenment in Berlin stretches from the 1740s almost to the end of the century. Initially, the new Enlightenment culture and life in Berlin had only a limited influence on Berlin's Jews, but this too began to change later in the eighteenth century.

Berlin Jewry Before the Changes

21

The First Glimmers of Change in the Jewish Community In general the Jewish community in the period from 1730 to 1750 was still very much as the community had been in the first quarter of the century. One can notice, though rather faintly, a few changes, both economic and cultural, that began to appear in those years and that would emerge at midcentury as the beginnings of a new era. Although the main period of Jewish involvement in manufacturing occurred after the Seven Years War (1756-1763), there were a few earlier Jewish industrial entrepreneurs. Jews were already getting involved in the "putting-out" system (having weaving and spinning done for the entrepreneurs by peasants in their homes) early in the century. The first real Jewish-owned factory was the ribbon factory of the Ulff family founded in 1714. More significant and larger was the velvet factory set up in Potsdam in 1730 by David Hirsch of Berlin, which by the 1740s employed 144 looms. Most of the other factories set up by Berlin Jews during the reign of Friedrich Wilhelm I were failures.50 The real beginning of large-scale textile manufacturing by Berlin Jews occurred in the years immediately before the Seven Years War with the cotton factory (Barchent und Katturi) of Benjamin Elias Wulff in 1752 and the silk factories of Moses Riess and Bernhard Isaac in 1748. The 1730s and 1740s were marked by the first modest signs of cultural change as well. The community leadership of the time opposed most such changes, however, and took action against them. So, in 1738, when Jeremias Cohen appeared in the synagogue clean shaven and wearing a wig, the community endeavored to punish him by limiting his rights to communal honors. In 1747, in a similar case, Abraham Hirschel (Posner) was reported to the government for having violated government rules by shaving off his beard, by Veitel Heine Ephraim, the future communal elder and Hirschel's personal enemy. In the Hirschel case, Frederick the Great reacted with a play on words: "Der Jude Posner soil mich und seinen Bart ungeschoren lassen" (The Jew Posner should leave me and his beard alone [literally unshaved]). An unconfirmed story claims that the ancestor of Gerson Bleichroder was expelled from Berlin in 1746 for possessing a German book.51 The 1740s were also the period of the first modest linguistic changes within the community. Although communal records continued to be kept in a mixture of Yiddish and Hebrew, the Yiddish began to take on more characteristics of High German.52 A more significant cultural change in the decade or two before the Seven Years War was the emergence of small circles of Enlightened Jews, among whom were the teachers of Moses Mendelssohn and Mendelssohn himself. A small number of Jews had acquired a Western education, either formally by studying medicine at German universities or informally by studying mathematics, German language, science, and philosophy. Such men as Dr. Abraham Kisch (1728-1803), Aron Salomon Gumpertz (1723-1769), and Israel Moses Samoscz (c. 1700-1772) helped acquaint Mendelssohn with the German language and with modern philosophy. It was also in the 1740s that Maimonides's Guide to the Perplexed, which had not been published for many years, was republished in Germany in Hebrew. This work

22

BERLIN BEFORE MODERNITY

introduced Mendelssohn, and undoubtedly many others, to the world of medieval Jewish rationalist philosophy. Gumpertz, who left behind few written works, was the first important Berlin Jew to live within the circle of the Enlightenment. He studied the philosophers John Locke, Shaftesbury, and Christian Wolff and became acquainted with Lessing, Nicolai, and Maupertuis. For a time he was a secretary to the Marquis d'Argens and to Maupertuis, two leading figures in the Prussian Royal Academy.53 When Moses Mendelssohn arrived in Berlin as a boy of fourteen, in 1743, his original intentions seem to have been to continue his Talmud studies with David Fraenkel, the newly appointed rabbi of Berlin. At the time Berlin's Jewish community still seemed totally traditional. In the years that followed, among the most obscure in Mendelssohn's life, he acquired a knowledge of literary German and several other languages, and he taught himself contemporary philosophy and literary criticism. He found employment in 1750 as a tutor in the home of the wealthy silk manufacturer Bernhard Isaac and, beginning in 1754, became a bookkeeper in the family's silk factory. His introduction to Lessing, Nicolai, and the Berlin Enlightenment circle dates to about 1754. Mendelssohn's first published works in German also date from 1754 and the beginning of 1755.54 In the years before the outbreak of the Seven Years War in 1756, the Enlightenment circle among the Jews was still extremely small. In fact, in almost all the literature on the Jewish Enlightenment in Berlin prior to the Seven Years War, the four men noted above—Samoscz, Kisch, Gumpertz, and Mendelssohn—plus Dr. Marcus Elieser Bloch—are mentioned to the exclusion of virtually any other name. Although Mendelssohn and Gumpertz were good friends, there seems to have been little in the way of formal Enlightenment activity within the Jewish community at the time. Almost all of Mendelssohn's literary work in the early years was addressed to a general non-Jewish audience,55 and the bulk of his intellectual fellowship was carried on with Christians. The days of his influence within the Jewish community were still several years in the future. The overall picture of Berlin Jewry, even in the years around 1750 when a small Enlightenment circle had begun to appear, still did not forecast the transformation of the community that would take place in the ensuing decades. Institutionally Berlin was a pious community ruled much as other Jewish communities were ruled. Economically, the cloth trade was still the dominant business of the wealthy. The future domination of coin suppliers and manufacturers was not yet noticeable. In lifestyle the community still leaned to tradition. Yiddish, even if somewhat affected by High German, was the spoken language of the community; only the mildest deviations from traditional dress and no deviations in ritual practice had appeared. All this would begin to change as the Seven Years War transformed the elite of Berlin Jewry.

II The Stage of "Peaceful Modernization"

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3 The Seven Years War (1756-1763) and the Emergence of a New Economic Elite

The seven years of war between Prussia and its French, Austrian, and Russian enemies (1756-1763) have long been recognized as playing an important role in the transformation of Berlin Jewry. Before the war began, the Berlin Jewish community had shown very few signs of being anything but a typical traditional Jewish community. By the end of the war, on the other hand, the conditions were clearly in place for the first phase of the modernization process of Berlin Jewry. The new Jewish elite that emerged during the war would have a double effect on making possible the important cultural transformations of that first phase. First, they would live in a cultural style that had not hitherto been common even for wealthy Berlin Jews. Second, they would become the chief supporters and protectors of a Jewish Enlightenment movement, which came to prominence in the third quarter of the eighteenth century in Berlin. Even though the official policies of Frederick II of Prussia changed little during the latter half of his reign, the emergence of a new acculturated elite induced the government to make increasing numbers of exceptions to its harsh policies. It was during the Seven Years War that the government and outside observers began to think in terms of a small number of "exceptional Jews."

The Emergence of a New Elite The effect of the Seven Years War on the transformation of the upper echelons of Berlin Jewish society was both direct and indirect. Of the direct influences of the war the most important role is generally assigned to the not very edifying story of the Munzjuden (the Jews involved in the Prussian mint).

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THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

Essentially what happened was that three Jewish families—the Ephraims, the Itzigs, and the Isaac-Fliesses—acquired huge wealth during the war by helping Frederick the Great to debase the coinage of Prussia and many of the surrounding countries. At the height of the coin debasement in 1761, these mint entrepreneurs were able to get at least 40 Taler out of a Mark of silver instead of the 14 Taler that had been the rate of coinage before the war. They did this by mixing in all kinds of baser metals and making the coins lighter. The flooding of the German economy with millions of these debased coins unleashed a huge inflation and caused economic upheaval. Public opinion of the time condemned the Jewish mintmasters as the villains of the story and derisively called the debased coins "Ephraimiten." Despite the frequent anti-Semitic interpretations of the coin debasement episode, however, it seems clear to modern historians that the one most responsible for the reduction in the silver content of the coins was none other than Ephraim's employer, King Frederick the Great. Debasing the coinage of his conquered neighbors, the Saxons, and paying government bills with debased coinage while requiring tax payments in good coins helped the Prussian government avoid bankruptcy. Estimates are that 20 percent to 25 percent of the costs of the war for Prussia were financed by this coin manipulation.1 Whatever the ethical questions surrounding the operations of the mint entrepreneurs, there can be little question that the war created a new type of Jewish elite. Before the war and even in the first years of the war, the mint entrepreneurs were divided into two hostile groups (despite the family relations between them)— one consisting of Hertz Moses Gumpertz, Daniel Itzig, and Moses Isaak, the other consisting of Veitel Heine Ephraim and his relatives in the Fraenkel family. After the death of Gumpertz in 1758, Ephraim and his former opponents went into business together. The result was not only unparalleled business success, but the healing of the chief rift within the Berlin Jewish elite. The Itzig-Ephraim-Isaac alliance was sealed with a group of "dynastic" marriages that made the unity of the group greater than ever.2 Of the three families, only the Ephraims had been part of the Berlin Jewish elite before the war. Ephraim had already been a communal elder as early as 1747 and had been among the wealthiest Jews in Berlin since decades before that. Moses Isaac-Fliess had not even been born in Berlin. Daniel Itzig, who was a native of the city, came from a well-to-do but not elite family. Neither Isaac-Fliess nor Itzig had figured among the top taxpaying families in Berlin until the decade before the war. Berlin, like most Jewish communities of the time, had always been dominated by the wealthy families of the community. But never was the domination as great as it was in the years immediately following the Seven Years War. In 1754, following a pattern similar to that throughout the first half of the eighteenth century, the richest 5 percent of Berlin Jewish taxpayers paid about 21 percent of total communal taxes; by 1764, after the war, the top 5 percent were paying over twice as much (43 percent). The Ephraim, Isaac-Fliess, and Itzig families together paid no less than 26 percent of all Jewish communal taxes in 1764. Daniel Itzig's periodic tax assessment rose from 2'/z Taler in 1754 to 47 Taler in 1764. His two partners' taxes increased greatly, too, though not quite as much.3 The wealth of the three

The Emergence of a New Economic Elite

27

was probably greater than that of the court Jews of the early eighteenth century. No one in the prewar period had paid even a fifth the amount of communal taxes paid by Daniel Itzig, Moses Isaac-Fliess, and Veitel Ephraim after the war. For the first time Berlin Jewry had men in its midst who were literally millionaires.

A New Patrician Lifestyle The new coin millionaires initiated a lifestyle that differed considerably from the typical Jewish lifestyle of the pre-Seven Years War period. Although they continued to live in Alt Berlin like the rest of the community, the millionaires began to acquire land on the finest streets of the neighborhood and to build imposing mansions. Ephraim's mansion built on the Molkenmarkt (Poststrasse 16) was purchased in 1761 for the substantial sum of 16,500 Taler and rebuilt over a period of five years. It was famous for its ten-foot-high statues and remained a Berlin monument until it was torn down in 1935.4 It served more as a place of business than as a residence. In 1765 Itzig purchased his home on the Burgstrasse overlooking the river Spree from the Baron de Vernezobre for 20,000 Taler. It had been built by a Prussian general in 1724 on the model of the aristocratic Hotel de Soubize in Paris. Itzig expanded the house by purchasing five neighboring buildings to make the wings of the house symmetrical.5 Moses Isaac-Fliess's three-story mansion on Spandauerstrasse at the corner of Konigstrasse was later torn down to build the new Berlin city hall.6 During the late eighteenth century the Ephraim and Itzig mansions flanked the two edges of the Alt Berlin neighborhood overlooking the Spree river. All three homes were included by Nicolai in his list of important sights in Berlin.7 The interiors and gardens of the houses reflected a desire to live like the Christian elite of the city. All were elegantly decorated. Daniel Itzig's mansion had wall paintings, a private synagogue, and a bath. The gardens of all three houses had decorative fountains. Members of all three families acquired art collections, which included the works of such masters as Poussin, Rembrandt, and Rubens. Daniel Itzig's collection included many landscapes, and such scenes from the Hebrew Bible as Moses striking the rock, and Eli and Elkana with the prophet Samuel. It also contained scenes from Greek mythology and at least two items of Christian content (Saint Jerome in the desert and Mary Magdalene). Similar Christian as well as Old Testament scenes could be found in the Ephraim and Isaac-Fliess collections. Fliess's son and Ephraim's son-in-law were among the leading bibliophiles in the city with important private libraries.8 Besides their main houses, each family acquired a number of other properties in and around the city. In 1769 Daniel Itzig purchased a house near the royal palace (outside the area where the Jews lived) built in 1749. This was later the home of his daughter, the saloniere Sara Levy. A nineteenth century description of this house, located at Hinter dem Neuen Packhof 5, mentions its many portraits, its elegant eighteenth century furniture, its large rooms, and its large garden stretching down to the river bank.9 There was also a large garden on Kopenickerstrasse

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THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

(the Bartholdi Meierei [Bartholdi dairy], which had formerly belonged to a government official, bought by Itzig in 1771) in still another part of town. This garden near the city gate was landscaped for the Itzigs by the royal gardener. It had hedges, shady walks, and thousands of fruit trees. Its outdoor garden theater was adorned with statues.10 The Ephraims' properties included a garden on the Schiffbauerdamm on the outskirts of the city, which included six statues of mythological subjects originally intended for the royal palace. On one side of this garden was the garden of Count von Reuss; on the other side was Ephraim's silver refinery. All of the families also kept the houses they had owned previously. In the former home of Daniel Itzig, on the Geckhol, the Jiidische Freischule founded in the 1770s would have its first home.11 Jewish Manufacturing and Banking The coin millionaires differed from earlier wealthy Berlin Jews in other ways than their new elegant lifestyles. The king required them to invest their windfalls in manufacturing enterprises in Prussia. Although the king's motivation was to enrich his state, he probably also helped the families preserve their gains. In any case, soon after the war, the families became deeply involved in the infant manufacturing sector of the Prussian economy. Daniel Itzig's investments included the iron works in the Harz mountains (purchased 1763), and the English leather factory in Tornow (1767). His son Moses, who died young (in 1783), owned a silk factory. Moses Isaak set up a velvet factory in Potsdam together with his son-in-law Moses Bernhard (1765). The Ephraim manufacturing enterprises were more widespread. The first factory owned by Veitel Ephraim was a lace factory founded in 1745. In 1749 he took over the production of lace, which employed 200 girls of the Potsdam orphanage who received very little payment.12 He also owned a gold and silver factory, which produced huge quantities of gold braid and the like (acquired 1762), and a silver refinery (acquired 1764). Although some of these businesses were a burden to the family that bought them, a few—like Ephraim's gold and silver factory—were extremely profitable.13 The three families were far from the only Jews active in manufacturing. The Jewish role, especially in the silk industry, became quite important. Factories owned by members of wealthy Jewish families were among the chief producers of silk, velvet, and plush in Berlin. The largest factory making Halbseide (half-silk goods) was owned by the Jewish entrepreneur Israel Marcus. In 1783 it had 120 to 150 looms and employed 300 to 500 workers. Other families with leading roles as silk, silk stocking, or ribbon manufacturers were the Hirsch family, Moses Riess, a sonin-law of the Ephraims, and David Friedlander, a son-in-law of Daniel Itzig and a later leader of the Berlin Jewish Enlightenment. Moses Mendelssohn was the employee of another silk manufacturing firm, that of Bernhard Isaac, which at its peak had 120 looms. He later became a full partner in the business.14

The Emergence of a New Economic Elite

29

The heyday of the Jewish manufacturers of silk and other luxury goods was the twenty-year period after the Seven Years War. Beginning in the 1780s a crisis hit many of the silk manufacturers, which resulted in the reduction or closing of many of the silk factories. Those Jews who went into the production of lighter cotton goods, however, were able to prosper even in the later years. Isaac Benjamin Wulff (a relative of the Itzigs) was the most important cotton manufacturer in Berlin in 1785 with 110 looms, 100 cloth-printing employees, and goods worth 100,000 Taler produced annually. The rise of the Jewish manufacturers together with the rise of the mint millionaires, helped transform the Jewish community both internally and in its relationship to the government. Manufacturers were now prominent among the wealthiest Jewish families of the postwar decades, replacing some of the textile merchants. The relationship of the Prussian government to the Jewish textile manufacturers was sharply different from the way it had previously dealt with most Jewish traders. Despite the continued personal antipathy of Frederick the Great to Jews, the government, with its mercantilistic views, saw manufacturing as an indispensable aid to the Prussian balance of trade. It not only provided employment to Prussian citizens, but also helped to boost exports and cut down imports. The very same paternalistic policy that had led the Prussian government to protect its merchant and craft guilds from the competition of Jewish merchants paid no heed to the voice of the competitors of Jewish factories. Quite the contrary—the government rewarded a number of Jewish manufacturing entrepreneurs with bounties, subsidies, and grants of monopolies.15 Another change in the economic activities of Berlin Jews in the second half of the eighteenth century took place in the fields of credit and money lending. Credit operations became more complex and the larger money-changing operations (Wechselgeschdfte) took on more and more of the characteristics of private banks. Pawnbrokers became less important and bankers became more important as sources of credit.16 As Berlin slowly developed into an important financial center, Jews became important as brokers. In 1765 eight Jews were sworn in as legally recognized brokers (Makler). The financial importance of Jews at the turn of the nineteenth century can be seen by the fact that the committee creating the Berlin stock exchange in 1803 consisted of an equal number of Jewish and Christian representatives.17 Exceptional Legal Status Without changing its generally negative attitude toward Jews and their economic activities, the Prussian government of Frederick the Great had seen great value in the activity of a small proportion of the Jewish elite. In its economic policies, the government favored the new manufacturing sector with subsidies, monopolies, and other economic privileges. It also gave these families an improved legal status that matched their enhanced economic importance. A new category of Prussian Jews was created—one treated far better than the bulk of the Jewish subjects. The category was entitled General Privilege. The term

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THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

Generalprivileg or Hauptprivileg had already existed in the early eighteenth century but its meaning was now changed. In the earlier period a small number of Jewish families had received General Privileges permitting them to settle all their children in Prussia without exception. The new General Privileges, the first one of which was given in 1761, included not only the right to settle all one's children in Prussia, but in addition bestowed the "rights of Christian merchants and bankers" on its recipients. Although the General Privilege did not grant equal rights in all matters, it did suspend virtually all economic restrictions.18 General Privileges were usually granted only to exceptionally wealthy individuals and were paid for by special contributions. The first recipient of such a privilege, the Mecklenburg court Jew Abraham Marcuse, paid 2,000 Taler to the royal treasury and agreed to supply the royal mint with precious metals.19 The second and third persons to receive General Privileges, also in 1761, were the mint entrepreneurs Veitel Ephraim and Daniel Itzig. Between 1761 and the death of Frederick the Great in 1786, fifteen Jewish families residing in Berlin received General Privilegien. In the five years after Frederick's death, under a government somewhat more sympathetic to Jews, an additional ten Berlin families received such privileges.20 The recipients of the General Privileges seem almost all to have been either bankers or manufacturers.21 The complex gradations of different ranks of legal status, which were made even more extreme by the granting of full citizenship to the Itzig family in 1791, are usually cited as typical of Prussian policy toward the Jews. It would be more correct to see the gradations of rank as a progressively developing policy that became more and more pronounced in the course of the second half of the eighteenth century. Until the 1740s no one had thought of the distinction between Ordinarii and Extraordinarii, though Publique Bediente (communal employees) had already had a different status from the listed Schutzjuden (protected Jews). The creation of the category of General Privilege heightened the legal distinctions based on economic function and status. It helped create the particularly exalted position of the Berlin Jewish elite in the late eighteenth century.

The New Leadership of the Jewish Community The new position of the Jewish elite soon became evident both within the Jewish community and to the outside world. The new elite soon controlled all the major offices in the Jewish community, so that its domination over the community was even greater than it had been before the war. Unlike the elite of the early eighteenth century, the new leadership was much less likely to get involved in unseemly and divisive bickering. The power of the new elite seemed greater than that held by the prewar elites. The changing of the guard in Jewish communal leadership came about in a number of ways. Until the war, the board of elders (parnassim) tended to remain in office for several terms and not to change composition very quickly.22 The election of 1762 changed all that. In that year the usual modes of voting were suspended and a special set of rules for choosing the officeholders was put into effect.

The Emergence of a New Economic Elite

31

One of the special rules was that none of the high officeholders (except the Oberdltester Veitel Heine Ephraim) could be a person who was an incumbent in office.23 This was the exact reverse of the traditional rule that high officeholders must have held office before. Only one of the prewar elders ever held office again.24 This set of rules was obviously intended to create a radical change in the leadership of the community. Turnover in office was more common after 1762 than it had been before the war (at least in part because the government demanded it). Other rule changes after the war also tended toward a consolidation of the new elite. After 1768 the method of choosing the seven electors was revised to give more weight to wealthy electors.25 The election rules had generally specified that the high elected officials of the community not be closely related to each other, that they had previously held lower offices, and that they had been married residents of the community for a number of years. In the election of 1762 we hear for the first time of a property qualification of 4,000 Taler assessed capital for elders and 2,500 for tovim and ikkurim.26 Because the property qualifications restricted the number of available candidates, it became more difficult (especially after 1780) to find qualified persons to elect. Therefore some of the rules on nepotism were eased. By 1799 it had become permissible for two elders to be related as long as it was not in the first degree (for instance, father and son, two brothers).27 The upshot of all these regulations was to make it possible for the high offices of the community to be controlled by a small group of wealthy families.28 The new rules did no more than codify a situation that had existed since the early eighteenth century. The postwar elders were about equally likely to come from the top 10 percent of communal taxpayers as had been elders before the war. A few of the new elders and assistant elders were relatives of those who had served before the war, but, in general, it was the new elite of manufacturers and bankers who dominated the leadership. Two families were especially dominant in postwar communal offices—those of the two coin millionaires Veitel Ephraim and Daniel Itzig. The Ephraim family was the main personal link between the prewar and postwar elite. Veitel Heine Ephraim (whose father had already served as an elder in the early eighteenth century) was an elder or Oberaltester (government-appointed elder for life), from 1747 till his death in 1775. Veitel Ephraim's son Joseph served as a communal treasurer (gova) from 1765 to 1777 and as an elder after his father death (from 1777 to 1780). Joseph's brother Ephraim succeeded him as elder between 1780 and 1786. Ephraim's son served as an assistant elder (tov) from 1789 to 1799 and then became an elder from 1799 to 1808. Daniel Itzig's family played an even greater role in postwar Jewish affairs. Daniel Itzig himself served as an elder, or Oberaltester, from 1762 until his death in 1799. His brother-in-law, the banker and factory owner Isaac Benjamin Wulff, served as a treasurer from 1765 till 1780, then as an assistant elder (tov) from 1780 to 1786, and finally as an elder from 1789 to 1794. Daniel Itzig's son, Isaac Daniel Itzig, held a number of offices at the same time as his father, including treasurer (1780-1794, 1797-1803, and assistant elder (ikkur; 1794-1797). Daniel Itzig's famous son-in-law David Friedlander served as a communal elder from 1808 to 1814.29

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THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

Other families with several members as top office holders included (1) the interrelated families of Juda Veil and his father-in-law, the silk manufacturer Hirsch David.30 Veit' s son was the first husband of Moses Mendelssohn's daughter Brendel (later Dorothea Schlegel); (2) the members of the banking family Bendix;31 (3) the brothers Isaac Esaias Riess and David Esaias Riess and Isaac's son Philipp.32 Almost all these families later became prominent supporters of the Enlightenment and of early religious reform. The leadership held by elite families was not only expressed through formal communal office. They also had influence in other more independent organizations. This is especially evident in the case of the Itzigs. Isaac Daniel Itzig and David Friedlander were cofounders of the first modern Jewish school in Berlin, the Jiidische Freischule, founded in the 1770s. They also were able to use their influence on Daniel Itzig to support their pro-Enlightenment points of view.33 Daniel Itzig and many of the others who served as communal elders in the late eighteenth century were also members of the board of the Beth Hamidrash. A number were also on the boards of the burial society or the society for the care of the sick. The Seven Years War brought a new elite to the forefront in Berlin. They differed from the previous leadership of the Jewish community not only in their much greater wealth but also in their cultural orientation. The three mint entrepreneurs were the first to build mansions, collect art, and begin to adopt a new lifestyle. Soon other families began to imitate the new style of life, although perhaps not on such a grand scale. The Jewish families at the top of the social scale began to benefit from improved legal status and financial privileges from the government that separated them from the bulk of their coreligionists. Meanwhile their new status and wealth were being recognized by positions of authority in the Jewish community. With its increasing cultural sophistication, the new leadership was able to represent its community to the outside world more successfully than had its predecessors. It would provide a model for other Jewish families trying to become more acculturated. It would support and protect the fledgling Jewish Enlightenment movement. Beginning with the small group of mint entrepreneurs and the bankers and silk manufacturers who soon joined them, a new style of life and a new cultural orientation began to spread to broad sections of the Berlin Jewish community. The new cultural movement began with a group that was in every way the "Establishment" in Berlin. For the next two decades or so, the new cultural style would set the tone for much of Berlin Jewry. At least in its early stage it would not be the subject of very much controversy.

4 The Intellectuals of the Berlin Haskala

The Jewish elite created by the Seven Years War was certainly one of the vital ingredients for the spread of modernity among Berlin Jews. The wealthy coin entrepreneurs, silk manufacturers, and bankers who emerged in the 1760s helped create a new, more acculturated lifestyle that then spread to broad sections of the Berlin Jewish community. But what made developments in Berlin special were not merely external changes that caused Jews to appear to fit in better with their non-Jewish surroundings. It was the fact that these modifications were accompanied by a new intellectual movement that set up acculturation, rationalism, and a reform of Jewish traditional life as an ideology that made the changes in style of life so important and so influential on other communities. This Jewish Enlightenment, or Haskala, expressed itself in theoretical statements, literary works, periodicals, and other publications that were read not only in Berlin but also in other Jewish communities. Its members used both the Hebrew and the German languages to express their views. They often explicitly rejected the Yiddish vernacular as a mode of expression, though a few used it for their own Enlightenment purposes. The relationship between the two groups most influential in furthering the new Jewish way of life—the wealthy elite and the Enlightenment intellectuals—was a complex and sometimes ambivalent one. Without the support and protection given by the wealthy Jewish Establishment of Berlin, the Haskala might have been suppressed or at least slowed in its spread. On the one hand, the existence of an acculturated group of wealthy Jews in the city made it easier to put into practice some of the ideals of the Haskala—especially in the realms of education and cultural adaptation. On the other hand, the intellectuals generally came from a very different milieu than the elite. Although they were grateful for the protection and aid they received, they did not always feel that the conspicuous consumption and

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THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

outward acculturation of the wealthy really embodied the intellectual ideals they wished to promote.

The Social Origins of the Haskala Intellectuals Berlin became the center of the Jewish Enlightenment in much the same way that it had earlier become the center of the German Enlightenment. The city became a magnet for intellectuals seeking a more rationalist way of understanding the world or understanding Judaism. The Haskala was soon so identified with the city that it is generally known as the "Berlin Haskala." Even in the nineteenth century, East European Jewish intellectuals attracted to Enlightenment were derisively called Berlinchikes by their opponents. In most cases, the intellectuals were not themselves natives of Berlin but rather moved to the city, precisely because of its reputation as a center for scholarship. The pattern of migration of intellectuals to Berlin differed somewhat from that of overall Jewish migration to Berlin. As the Jewish Enlightenment gathered momentum in Berlin, it attracted intellectuals from other places. Many who began their intellectual careers elsewhere ended up in Berlin where they could exchange ideas with their fellow Enlighteners face to face. Among the Haskala intellectuals, individuals born in Eastern Europe were much more common than in the Berlin Jewish population as a whole. Two areas within Eastern Europe provided virtually all the East European intellectuals who came to Berlin—Podolia (and neighboring areas in Galicia), and (to a lesser extent) Lithuania. Other parts of Eastern Europe were not represented at all. The Eastern European intellectuals were not always well integrated into the Berlin Jewish circle, and a number of them eventually left the city and sometimes even went back to their homelands. With the single exception of Salomon Maimon, the Eastern European Maskilim (Jewish Enlighteners) wrote in Hebrew. East European Maskilim include Salomon Dubno and Aron Jaroslaw, who participated in Mendelssohn's project to translate the Bible and write a commentary on it. Dubno eventually broke with Mendelssohn, made common cause with traditionalists, and returned to Eastern Europe. Isaac Satanov, who was among the first of the Maskilim to arrive in Berlin, was extremely active in writing and publishing Hebrew works in Berlin. He settled permanently in the city, and his son, Dr. Schonemann, married in Berlin and wrote some Enlightenment works, mainly in German. Salomon Maimon, who never lost his thick Yiddish accent and his Eastern European mannerisms, was a highly original philosopher and a picturesque personality. His autobiography details incidents from his adventurous life and shows him to be much less restrained by convention than most of the German-born Maskilim. Another Lithuanian Jew, Baruch of Sklov, a disciple of the Vilna Gaon, stopped in Berlin only briefly. He is chiefly known as a popularizer of science in Hebrew and as a man who tried to reconcile science and traditional Talmudic learning. His main influence was in his Eastern European homeland.1 Eastern Europeans were an important group but still a clear minority in the Berlin Haskala. Much more influential and numerous were intellectuals from var-

The Intellectuals of the Berlin Haskala

35

ious German-speaking lands. Their places of origin were scattered throughout Germany and its neighbors with no specific places, except perhaps Copenhagen and Konigsberg, having any particularly great role.2 The association of Konigsberg with the Berlin Haskala was especially great, not only because such influential leaders of the Enlightenment as David Friedlander and Isaac Euchel had lived there, but also because Enlightenment institutions, especially the Hebrew periodical Hameassef, were founded there. The Berlin Jewish elite also had family ties to Konigsberg. Only a minority of Haskala authors were native to Berlin—among them Markus Herz, Lazarus Bendavid, Saul Ascher, and Wolff Davidson. All of them wrote almost exclusively in German. Herz had also been associated with Konigsberg where he studied at the university and became a disciple and protege of Immanuel Kant. The Haskala authors were not only heterogeneous in place of origin, they also came from very different social backgrounds. Most distinguished in background was David Friedlander, whose father was the richest Jew in Konigsberg and one of the few with a modicum of Western culture.3 Friedlander married Bliimchen, the daughter of Daniel Itzig. He owned a silk factory and eventually became the first Jewish city councillor of Berlin. He ranked in the top 5 percent of Jewish taxpayers in the city.4 Others who came from well-to-do families were Lazarus Bendavid, Saul Ascher, and Baruch (Berthold) Lindau. None of these were nearly as wealthy as the Friedlanders, however. Bendavid's grandfather was the silk merchant and communal elder Hirsch David. Both Bendavid's father and Ascher's father were just rich enough to fit into the upper tax bracket of Berlin Jewry.5 Lindau, who came from a small town near Berlin, became a banker, and eventually resided in the Itzig family mansion. In contrast, two of the most distinguished members of the Haskala circle began life in poverty. Both Moses Mendelssohn and Markus Herz were the sons of impoverished Torah scribes. Both were able to become financially comfortable later in life. Mendelssohn, after his initial years of struggle in Berlin, found employment as a bookkeeper in the silk business of Bernhard Isaac, and eventually, became a partner of the firm. His sons Joseph and Abraham became wealthy bankers after his death. Markus Herz, after initial struggle, was able to complete his university degree and to gain employment as a physician for the Berlin Jewish community. He married Henriette, the daughter of his fellow physician Benjamin de Lemos, and later received an honorary professorship and the title of Hofrat.6 The background of Enlightenment authors did not necessarily determine their means of livelihood later in life. Compared to literary men of Christian origin, the Jewish Maskilic writers had a very distinctive set of occupations. The typical Christian author's professions of government service, the church, the nobility, or the law were, of course, all closed to Jews. Unlike most Christian writers, but like many of their fellow Jews, many Jewish writers, even the most distinguished, were active as businessmen. Some, like Friedlander and (in his later life) Mendelssohn, conducted their own businesses. In both cases their business affairs sometimes interfered with their intellectual work.7 Most Enlightenment authors, however, functioned as commercial employees, as managers, clerks, and bookkeepers.

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THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

Among other occupations, the two most commonly associated with Enlightenment activities were medicine and education. Jewish physicians were among the few Jews in the eighteenth century who had the opportunity to attend universities. Often Jewish medical students were exposed to more than merely medical studies. The association between medicine, science, and Jewish philosophy is a tradition already found in the medieval Islamic world. It was revived in the Berlin Jewish community where Dr. Marcus Herz was a distinguished Kantian philosopher. His older colleague Dr. Marcus Elieser Bloch was a leading ichthyologist. The families of Jewish physicians of Berlin often married among themselves and formed a miniature society of their own. Not only did a remarkably high percentage of the Jewish doctors in Berlin write works in the Enlightenment mode, but they were also leaders in the move away from tradition. Physicians' opinions played a large part in one of the first attacks by Enlightened Jews on a traditional Jewish practice—the early burial of the dead. Physicians also seem to have been overrepresented among those who later converted to Christianity.8 It is just as easy to understand why so many Enlightenment activists were involved in education as to explain why so many were physicians. Education was an important part of the Enlightenment prescription for the improvement of human society. The reform of Jewish education became one of the first projects of the Haskala. At the highest level, leaders of the Haskala were instrumental in founding schools that incorporated secular as well as religious Jewish studies. Several leading writers became directors of such schools, a function they took up with the utmost seriousness.9 Not all of the Maskilim were on such a high level in education, however. Quite a few, especially at the beginning of their careers, procured employment as private tutors (Hauslehrer) in the homes of wealthy Jews. Unlike the Berlin elite that supported and protected them, the Berlin Jewish intellectuals did not constitute a single social class; they were from many different places and many different backgrounds. Although some came from influential Berlin families, most did not. In fact, quite a few remained economically dependent on, and therefore socially far removed from, the Berlin elite that helped set a modernizing style in Berlin.

The Activities of the Berlin Jewish Intellectuals A complex question in the relationship between the roles of the intellectuals and the wealthy elite in bringing about a transformation of Berlin Jewry is the issue of chronological precedence. Was the creation of the new wealthy elite a precondition for the appearance of a Jewish Enlightenment, or was the Enlightenment already present before the coin entrepreneurs and manufacturers reached the height of their wealth? There certainly is some evidence for Enlightenment activity by Jews even before the rise of Itzig, Ephraim, and Isaac-Fliess. Moses Mendelssohn's first publications date from 1754 and 1755. By the time these early works were written, Mendelssohn had already come into contact with a small group of Jews who were knowledgeable in the ideas of the non-Jewish world and had interest in the

The Intellectuals of the Berlin Haskala

37

Enlightenment—Kisch, Samoscz, and Gumpertz. By the early years of the Seven Years War, Mendelssohn was already on his way to becoming a well-known figure. He was mixing socially with leaders of the general Berlin Enlightenment, especially Lessing and Nicolai, and was writing for their publications. Members of the Berlin Jewish elite later claimed that by this time Mendelssohn was already a link between the general Enlightenment and young members of the elite pursuing their education.10 The activities of Mendelssohn and a small number of other Jewish intellectuals by the late 1750s do not prove the existence of a full-fledged Jewish Enlightenment in Berlin that early. In fact, there is considerable reason to feel that such a well-defined movement did not even exist in the 1760s. Mendelssohn's intellectual activities in the 1760s, including his much acclaimed Phaedon on the immortality of the soul, were written in German for a chiefly non-Jewish audience. The bulk of his intellectual correspondents were also not Jewish. Few of his publications dealt with matters of specifically Jewish interest.11 It was not until Johann Caspar Lavater's famous challenge to Mendelssohn, at the end of 1769, that he refute Charles Bonnet's book proving the truth of Christianity that Mendelssohn turned explicitly to an intellectual consideration of Judaism and its relationship to the Enlightenment. To sum up we can say that there were Jewish Enlightenment activities in the 1750s and 1760s, but they were isolated and often did not deal with Jewish themes or look toward Jewish audiences. A Hebrew writer like Hartwig Wessely, later a partner of Mendelssohn in the leadership of the moderate Enlightenment, was living in Amsterdam in the 1760s and not writing explicitly Enlightenment works. Beginning around 1770, a Haskala circle rapidly developed in Berlin. In the following decades it quickly went into progressively more activist and radical directions. Moses Mendelssohn's scholarly biographer, Alexander Altmann, documents the arrival in Berlin of the chief members of the Mendelssohn Haskala circle in the 1770s. Among those who arrived in (or returned to) Berlin in the 1770s were Markus Herz, physician and Kantian philosopher (returned 1770); David Friedlander, Mendelssohn's favorite disciple (arrived 1771); Isaac Satanov, Hebrew writer (arrived 1771-72), Salomon Dubno, Bible scholar (arrived 1772); Hartwig [Naphtali Hirz] Wessely, Hebrew poet (arrived 1774); Herz Homberg, educational reformer (arrived 1770, left 1772, returned 1778-79); and Salomon Maimon, Kantian philosopher (arrived 1779).12 Although there was a noticeable increase in Haskala activity even in the early 1770s, the most creative years of the Berlin Jewish Enlightenment were the exciting years 1778-1783. In those six years a remarkable number of important Enlightenment works were published and institutions founded. It was also in those years that the Maskilim experienced their first opposition from the rabbinic authorities of their day. A mere listing of the events of those few years gives an idea of the level of innovation of the period. The first Jewish school in which secular subjects were the core of the curriculum, the Jiidische Freischule, was founded in 1778 and opened its doors in 1781. The founders of the school published the first Jewish elementary textbook Lesebuch fur jiidische Kinder in 1779. Mendelssohn's controversial translation of the Bible into High German (in Hebrew script) also

38

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

appeared in those years. In 1782 Wessely published his Divre Shalom Ve'emet, which called for a radical reform of Jewish education. In the following year Mendelssohn published his magnum opus, Jerusalem, which attempted to reconcile Jewish religious practice with the Enlightenment and with freedom of conscience. In the same year, in Konigsberg, a group of young Jews founded the first modern Hebrew periodical, Hameassef, which became the leading literary organ of the Haskala and later moved to Berlin. In the years after the death of Moses Mendelssohn, the Haskala writers, both in German and in Hebrew, began to take a much more openly critical stand on Jewish religious practice and traditions. The period from 1786 to the end of the eighteenth century was a period of great Enlightenment literary activity, most of it in a radical mode. It is significant that the chief years of Haskala publication ended before 1800.13 Since the discussion here concentrates on the period of the peaceful spread of Jewish modernism, a detailed characterization of the radical phase of the Haskala will take place in a later chapter. To some extent the difference between the moderate and radical phases of the Haskala is related to a difference in the generation of the writers. In general we can distinguish three main generations of those active in Berlin Jewish affairs in the late eighteenth century. The oldest generation, born in the 1720s, tended to be moderate. It included such conservative individuals as Mendelssohn and Wessely, as well as Isaac Satarov and Markus Bloch, whose ideologies are harder to characterize. The generation that followed that of Mendelssohn tended to be much more radical than his own generation.14 Many of the most forthright writers of the Berlin Jewish Enlightenment were born in the fifteen years from 1747 to 1762: Markus Herz (1747), Herz Homberg (1749), David Friedlander (1750), Salomon Maimon (c.1753), Isaac Euchel (1756), Baruch Lindau (1758), and Lazarus Bendavid (1762).15 The generation born in the 1750s and 1760s was really the last to be directly active as Haskala writers. The generation that followed seems to have played a much smaller role in Enlightenment activities. Insofar as they were active in Jewish culture, it was as school directors and teachers or as leaders of the religious reform movement. In contrast to their lesser activity in the Enlightenment movement is the much greater role they played in the crisis of Berlin Jewry. They were far more likely to be involved in rejection of traditional Jewish family patterns and in conversion to Christianity than those who came before them.

The Relations between Intellectuals and Members of the Elite The two main leadership groups in the modernization process of Berlin Jewry— the intellectuals and the wealthy elite—were in most cases people of quite different backgrounds. They often cooperated in the work of spreading new ideas and new styles of life, but at times they clearly showed that their interests were not the same. Occasionally there were signs of tension between the two groups, but usually these were muted, since the intellectuals knew that they were dependent on the wealthy families that controlled the Jewish community.

The Intellectuals of the Berlin Haskala

39

The remarkable and overwhelming support the Berlin elite gave to the Haskala can be clearly documented. Virtually every wealthy Berlin Jew of the last quarter of the eighteenth century had some connection to the Berlin Haskala. One way this support was shown was through subscription to works by Enlightenment writers. Presubscribers (Prenumeranteri) helped to make the publication of literary works possible. Although there is no proof that subscribers actually read the works they subscribed to, it would seem likely that many of them did. The Berlin Jewish elite subscribed to numerous Haskala works.16 It was not merely that wealthy Jews subscribed to works far above their proportion in the population. That would be expected, since subscriptions could cost considerable sums. More remarkable was the fact that virtually all those in the upper tax brackets subscribed to something (see Table 1). Of seventy-six persons who were listed for amounts of 4 Reichstaler or above in the communal tax lists and who were alive after 1776, all but sixteen subscribed to at least one of a list of seven Haskala works.17 Of the sixteen who did not'subscribe, six were women (and women were rarely listed as subscribers to books in the period)18 and some of the others no longer lived in Berlin at the time of publication. Most of the wealthy Berlin Jews subscribed to several Haskala works.19 Of those paying at least 2 Reichstaler (that is those eligible for the category of large taxpayers) well over half subscribed to at least one of the Haskala publications. Virtually all those who held high offices in the Jewish community were subscribers to one or more Haskala works.20 Of the six persons who subscribed to all seven works, four were members of the family of Daniel Itzig.21 The Haskala authors and the wealthy elite had many other points of contact besides merely buying the works of the Maskilim or furthering their work in other ways. Moses Mendelssohn, the most famous of the Enlightenment authors, had friendly contact with a number of members of the elite. The communal leadership showered Mendelssohn with honors. Entries in the communal minute book in flowery Hebrew granted Mendelssohn lifelong exemption from communal taxes in 1763, and in 1771 granted him eligibility for election as an assistant elder of the community by suspending the usual rules.22 On the more personal level, Mendelssohn traveled on business with at least two of the sons of the coin millionaire Veitel Heine Ephraim and wrote their families friendly letters.23 He spent happy days as a houseguest at Daniel Itzig's brother-in-law's country house outside Berlin.24 The house he lived in was owned by Veitel Ephraim's daughter, Rosel Meyer. Except for David Friedlander, who was a member of the elite himself, few of the other Jewish intellectuals were on such intimate terms with the Berlin Jewish plutocracy. In fact a considerable number of the Maskilim were in much more dependent positions. Even Mendelssohn himself had begun as a tutor and bookkeeper for a silk manufacturer. His son Joseph followed in his footsteps by working as Daniel Itzig's bookkeeper. Hartwig Wessely was a manager of the firm of Joseph Ephraim (son of Veitel). Isaac Euchel was a bookkeeper for the art dealer Meyer Warburg. Earlier in his career he had been a tutor of the children of David Friedlander's brother in Konigsberg. Several other leading Maskilim began their careers as tutors, either in the homes of the Berlin elite or in the homes of other, more prosperous Maskilim.25

TABLE 1. Subscribers to Haskala Works by Tax Bracket Subscribed to Mendelssohn Bible

Hameassef

Besamim Rosh

Emunot ve-De 'ot

More than 4 Taler

41

23

27

30

2 Taler-3 Taler, 23 Groschen

22

4

14

6

I Taler-1 Taler, 23 Groschen

16

5

16

8

3

5

Tax*

Less than 1 Taler Unknown or exempt All subscribers in Berlin

Sefer Hamidot

Yesod Olam

33

31

21

60

12

13

11

43

77

16

12

11

44

155

5

5

4

6 1

20

201

Mishle Asaf

Any Work

30

20

6

17

65

63

20

146

117

55

68

74

127

122

65

313

*The tax bracket figures for each person are the highest amount recorded for them in the period before 1790. flncludes all those who died after 1776 or whose death dates are unknown and who were listed in a tax list before 1790.

All in Tax Bracket t 76

The Intellectuals of the Berlin Haskala

41

Employment by the elite was not the only form of dependent relationship between the intellectuals and the wealthy. Several of the wealthy, especially Daniel Itzig, Veitel Heine Ephraim, and David Friedlander, acted as patrons for young intellectuals of few means. Several of the budding Maskilim even lived in the homes of their patrons while pursuing their studies. Others were helped by institutions founded by the wealthy or were aided in finding positions by the wealthy.26 Despite the many ways in which members of the Berlin Jewish elite helped the Maskilim (or perhaps because of them), the intellectuals sometimes felt alienated from the elite and distrustful of them. Even Mendelssohn, who was on close terms with many of the elite families, often expressed his qualms about them. In the words of his biographer Alexander Altmann: "Moses was not insensitive to the defects he encountered among the rich. His sympathies were with the poor." Despite his later friendships with members of the Ephraim family, he rejected overtures from Veitel Heine Ephraim to join in the coin operations during the Seven Years War; in a letter to his fiancee Fromet Gugenheim, Mendelssohn wrote: "Your way of thinking is too refined to be capable of correctly assessing a rich Berliner. . . . You will have to avoid associating with the local rich, because your character does not at all agree with their mentality."27 These negative remarks during the Seven Years War were repeated later in his life as well, especially in his reply to Johann David Michaelis's criticism of Christian Wilhelm von Dohm's proposal for the emancipation of the Jews (1783). At that time he said: "Among the Jews . . . I have found comparatively more virtue in the quarters of the poor than in the houses of the wealthy."28 Mendelssohn was not the only one of the Haskala intellectuals to express reservations about the character of the Berlin Jewish elite. In his discussion of the history of the Enlightenment, Bendavid attributes to the wealthy both an acceleration in the growth of the Enlightenment and a deflection of its direction toward superficiality.29 An even stronger distrust of the wealthy was expressed in the Gesellschaft der Freunde, the club of unmarried pro-Enlightenment men founded in 1792. This might at first seem surprising because the club has generally been viewed as an organization of the elite. It is clear that one of the reasons that it did not accept married members in its early years was the fear that the wealthy would take over. In the words of an early club officer, Dr. Rintel: Of course it was expected that only that section of the Berlin fathers of families would want to join who were educated and free of religious prejudices; but first of all these were almost all rich people, full of pride in their wealth and reputation, and therefore little suited to enter into a relationship of equality and friendly dealings with those they considered beneath them. . . . And secondly a large number of younger persons including those who were interested in the society from its very beginning were in a subordinate relationship to these men in their private lives, namely as tutors, bookkeepers etc, for which reason the monied aristocracy . . . was doubly to be feared.30

The sense of alienation felt by some of the Berlin intellectuals from their wealthy protectors does not mean that they saw the elite as their enemies. Rather they felt

42

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

a vague sense of unease and perhaps of moral or intellectual superiority. Such feelings are not unusual in the relationships between creative people and their patrons. Their private doubts about some of the qualities of the Berlin elite had to be balanced against their knowledge of the extent to which they depended on the elite for protection and support. Therefore, no matter what their personal reservations, they continued to cultivate their relationships with the elite and to remain on amicable terms with them. What these minor tensions between intellectuals and patrons point out is that the leaders of modernization were not a single group but rather two groups. With the notable exception of David Friedlander, it would be difficult (and unfair) to claim, as some have, that the Berlin Maskilim were simply the spokesmen of a plutocratic interest group. The relationship between the plutocrats and the intellectuals was much more complex than that. Certainly the new acculturated lifestyle of the rich and their general support for new cultural activities and ideas was a tremendous help to the Jewish intellectuals who gathered in Berlin. Had the elite been more hostile to change, they might have been able to crash the intellectual developments that arose in the city. The intellectuals depended on the good will of the elite, but they were not merely their puppets. Though their intellectual ideas might prove useful to the elite, they were not created for that purpose. Most of the Haskala writers came from backgrounds that differed greatly from those of their protectors. Their early backgrounds as struggling intellectuals and outsiders to the city must have given them a different outlook from that of the elite. The joining offerees between the elite and the intellectuals very much strengthened the forces of cultural change in Berlin. The example of the new lifestyle of the rich and the new theories of the intellectuals helped induce ever-larger circles of Berlin Jews to change their style of living and their cultural orientation. Modernizing trends did not remain confined either to the intellectual or to the elite milieus but, rather, spread to a large portion of Berlin Jewry.

5 The Lifestyle of Modernizing Berlin Jews

The new Jewish elite that emerged during the Seven Years War helped pioneer an acculturated way of life in Berlin. The new style of living also went far beyond conspicuous consumption and luxury. It involved changes in cultural values, ways of educating children, dress, language, and forms of sociability and culture. By the 1770s Berlin was home not only to an acculturating elite but also to a nucleus of Enlightened Jewish intellectuals. The combined influence of the style of the elite and the teachings of the new intellectuals began to affect the way of life of growing numbers of Berlin Jews. The cultural milieu of Berlin Jewry in the two decades or so after the Seven Years War had several characteristics that are worth exploring. First, although the modern lifestyle began at the very top of the Jewish social scale, it soon spread to a broad cross section of the city's Jewish population. Second, the changes during this period occurred peacefully and with only sporadic opposition of any sort. The community was not split into opposing camps of modernists and traditionalists. This is not to say that all Berlin Jews adopted the new cultural attitudes and practices; rather, the traditionalist and modernist milieus seemed to have lived side by side in a kind of "peaceful coexistence." This relatively peaceful situation would change in the last years of the eighteenth century. Just as we can speak of two different social groups that played leading roles in the growth of modernity in Berlin—the wealthy and the intellectuals—we can also speak of two main groups within Berlin Jewry and their responses to the modernizing leadership in the Berlin of the 1760s, 1770s, and 1780s. The first, to be explored here, is the broad group of Berlin Jews who began to change their external style of living and cultural attitudes to incorporate many of the characteristics of their Gentile surroundings. But not all Berlin Jews were equally affected by the changes in lifestyle. Although scholars have often dealt with the large group that was acculturating,

44

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

they have generally paid little attention to those who did not modernize or who were not wealthy. The Jews least affected by the changes, whether because they were poor or because they remained traditionalists, are discussed in chapter 6. A look at both groups is needed to gain a picture of the scope of communal reactions to the forces of rapid change that hit the community. Changes in External Lifestyle Documenting changes in the private lives of an entire community of people is a difficult task. The evidence often consists either of information about the actions, appearance, or attitudes of an individual or small group of individuals, or it consists of generalized statements about the whole community or large sections of it. In either case, it is rarely possible to get a picture of how widespread a particular phenomenon is. Additionally, since the documentation is not systematic but depends on chance observations or the chance survival of a private document, it is difficult to give a precise chronology of most of the changes. Such a chronology would be difficult in any case, because most such change occurs gradually and at varying rates in different groups within a community. Despite these limitations it is possible to give at least a fragmentary picture of changes in many fields of private lifestyle in the Berlin Jewish community. Although it is often difficult to be precise about how widespread specific innovations were, it seems fair to assume that many of the changes affected a large proportion of Berlin Jewry—often more than half. Costume In most communities in Germany in the seventeenth century, Jews were easily recognizable by their clothing, speech, and general mannerisms. The costume of both men and women included large white ruffs or starched collars. Men generally wore flat hats called barrens and when attending synagogue also wore the Schulmantel or Sarbal—a sleeveless cloak. Married women covered their hair with a head covering and often wore a viereckiger Schleier (a kind of huge hair ribbon). These forms of dress distinguished Jews from their non-Jewish contemporaries, and seemed to hark back to much earlier periods in general German costume. In most places, the old laws requiring Jews to wear special badges or marks had been allowed to lapse, although in many countries, including Prussia, Jewish men were forbidden to shave off their beards entirely.1 By the early eighteenth century, distinctive Jewish costumes were in decline in many parts of Germany.2 There is very little evidence to indicate that Berlin Jews wore the Jewish costume. One clear bit of evidence of Jewish costume in early eighteenth century Berlin is a communal regulation dated October 1728 (Cheshvan 5489), which ordered communal elders to wear a Sarbal when attending meetings of the communal board "so that they should show respect for the community and fear of heaven" (eimas hatzibur veyiras shomayim).3 Those who contravened this regulation would have to pay 6 Groschen as a fine.

The Lifestyle of Modernizing Berlin Jews

45

A distinctive part of Jewish costumes were head coverings for men and women. There is no evidence concerning when the barrett disappeared as a man's head covering, if it ever was worn in Berlin in the first place. There is much evidence, some of it visual, to indicate that, by the middle of the century, Jewish men were wearing three-cornered hats like their non-Jewish contemporaries. There are also portraits from the third quarter of the eighteenth century that depict leading Jews, including communal elders, bareheaded. This is true even of persons who seemed otherwise to have been traditional.4 Other portraits of Jews, both traditionalists and nontraditionalists, show them wearing large black skullcaps. It is not clear whether there was anything distinctly Jewish about such skullcaps or whether it was a general practice for men to wear such caps when lounging at home, in the same way that some seem to have worn dressing gowns.5 Another aspect of men's head covers was the use of wigs. The custom of wearing wigs became popular among well-dressed men in the seventeenth century, when wigs were long and flowing. The powdered wig of the eighteenth century was generally shorter and featured either curls on the side of the head, or a queue at the back (Zopf). Wearing wigs was still a matter for controversy among Jews in the first half of the century,6 but by the later eighteenth century, there seemed to be little opposition to the practice. In fact, wigs were widely worn among educated and well-to-do Jews. Mendelssohn is recorded as having begun to wear one around 1760.7 In general, by the third quarter of the eighteenth century, men seemed to be dressing like Christians. The oft-quoted traveler's report of 1774, Bemerkungen eines Reisenden durch die koniglich preussischen Staaten, states that many Jews wore their hair just like the Christians and did not dress differently.8 It would seem that by the late eighteenth century, the only men wearing distinctive costumes were the communal rabbis (who are depicted wearing robes and Polish fur hats). Another aspect of change in the appearance of Jewish men concerned the wearing of beards. In the eighteenth century a beard was a conspicuous sign of Jewishness, since virtually no Christian in Berlin wore one.9 Although it had long been traditional for Jews to wear beards, there is evidence that German Jews slowly modified the practice. Documents of the late seventeenth century already speak of German Jews waiting till they married to grow beards and of married men trimming the full beard into a goatee or a thin strip.10 Still, most married Jewish men kept some remnant of a beard. The incidents in 1738 and 1747, mentioned in chapter 3, show that the Jews' shaving off of their beards was still controversial in Berlin. By the last quarter of the eighteenth century, many married men were doing without beards altogether. The traveler's report of 1774 states: "The reverential nature of the beard no longer appears to them as great as previously. At least it seems to those who have kept it not really to be necessary anymore; rather they grow it only because of what people might say."11 Most of the surviving portraits of Berlin Jews from the 1770s and later show the men to be totally beardless. Included among those so portrayed are elders of the community and many of those active in the Berlin Enlightenment. Even some leaders of orthodox Jewry in Berlin around 1800 were beardless.12

46

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

The shaving of beards was not, however, universal. Those who had their portraits painted were not representative of the community at large, but were disproportionately wealthy and acculturated. Furthermore, even among those who have been depicted, there are some with beards, among them, Moses Mendelssohn13 (whose beard was just a narrow strip) and Ephraim Marcus Ephraim (1716-1776; a nephew of Veitel Heine Ephraim). Mendelssohn's beard was the subject of an anti-Jewish pamphlet, "Uber Mendelssohns Bart."14 It is of interest that both men, who seem to have retained their beards for religious reasons, are depicted as bareheaded. Beards were also to be found among rabbis and some of the orthodox. Among those who shaved off their beards entirely were some who were still traditionalists. Since the Bible's prohibition on shaving one's beard was interpreted by the rabbis as referring only to a razor but not to scissors, a new profession arose, that of Bartzwicker (literally "beard pincher"). The Bartzwicker removed the beards of pious Jews by means of clippers or scissors. In 1812 there were three such Bartzwicker listed in Berlin.15 There is some pictorial evidence that some married Jewish women continued the religious practice of completely covering their hair even in the second half of the eighteenth century. A portrait of Fromet Mendelssohn, the wife of Moses, depicts her as a young woman whose hair is completely covered by a kind of turban. In her letters to Moses during their engagement, she refers specifically to such head coverings.16 Another picture, by Daniel Nicolaus Chodowiecki, from the second half of the eighteenth century, depicts an auction at which the judische Trodlerin (Jewish second-hand dealer) is recognizable by her head covering, which hides her hair.17 A number of portraits of married women of the Berlin elite from the last two decades of the eighteenth century show them wearing elegant hats and coifs that did not completely cover their natural hair.18 It seems evident that Jewish women outside of traditional circles were giving up the traditional coif by the last quarter of the eighteenth century. It is not entirely clear when this new style of dressing became common among Berlin Jewish women, but descriptions of Berlin Jewry from the third quarter of the century indicate that the new style was widespread.

Language Berlin Jews tried to resemble their non-Jewish neighbors not only in their clothing and hairstyles but also in their language. The transition from a Yiddish vernacular to a German one was even more complex than the changeover in outward appearance. Linguistic habits are much more difficult to change than sartorial habits. There were many intermediate stages, and language usage seems to have differed from person to person. There is naturally more evidence about changes in written language than for spoken language, but even the written record is complex and hard to analyze. It is easy to distinguish Latin or German letter writings from Hebrew letter writings, but among Hebrew letter writings in the vernacular there is a complex continuum from "pure" Yiddish through various intermediate stages to pure High German in Hebrew script. One relatively complete set of records that provides a picture of the written language patterns of at least a portion of the Berlin Jewish elite is the minute book

The Lifestyle of Modernizing Berlin Jews

47

of the Jewish community. Like the records of most Ashkenazic Jewish communities of the age, the minute book was written either in Hebrew or in a combination of Yiddish and Hebrew. The communal records from the 1720s show a Yiddish not much different from the Yiddish of other parts of North Germany. Although there are a certain number of High German words (for instance, ist instead of is, or werden for \vern) and some influence of standard German spelling, there could be no mistaking the language for German.19 By the 1740s, there were a few changes in the Yiddish texts, all of them in the direction of German.20 Even the documents of the 1740s are far from being High German, however, and changes continued gradually thereafter.21 Grammatical changes are first apparent in the 1750s.22 The German subjunctive is introduced in some documents as early as the 1750s and becomes common in documents of the 1770s and thereafter. Also typical of the documents of the 1770s and later are the complex constructions of "Schachtel sentences," with one clause within another.23 A steady change in vocabulary was also noticeable in the record book. The changes are often uneven and gradual. The Yiddish word for "[they] are," seinen, is replaced by High German sind only after 1777, whereas niemand replaces keiner by the 1750s, and nicht replaces nit in the 1760s.24 The communal minute book entries of the 1780s are generally in High German in Hebrew script. They are distinct from ordinary High German mainly in the frequent use of Hebrew vocabulary and in occasional grammatical lapses.25 Outside of the communal record books, language usage varied even more widely. The use of High German in Hebrew script was virtually unknown until about 1760. In that year the first High German-Hebrew glossary Milim Le'eloah by Yehuda Loeb Minden appeared.26 Moses Mendelssohn conducted his correspondence with his fiancee, Fromet, in High German (with a few Yiddishisms) in Hebrew script in 1761-62. The use of High German in Hebrew script was a phenomenon that continued for many decades. The most famous example was Mendelssohn's Bible translation issued beginning in 1778. But there were a number of important Enlightenment works that used this medium, which could reach many Jews who could not yet read German script. Among such works are David Friedlander's "Sendschreiben an die deutsche Juden."21 The minutes and correspondence of the Jewish community of Berlin continued to be kept almost exclusively in this form until the Emancipation Law of 1812 was passed. Aron Hirsch Heymann records that the financial records of the leading Jewish businesses in Berlin continued to be in Hebrew script even though they used up-to-date double entry bookkeeping.28 There had long been some Jews who could read and write High German, which they used for business or dealing with the government. In the middle of the eighteenth century and even later, there were still many Berlin Jews who were illiterate in German script.29 This was one of the reasons they objected to a government regulation requiring pawnbrokers to keep record books in German.30 Few Berlin Jews before the middle of the eighteenth century had much formal education in High German. Moses Mendelssohn's acquisition of literary German in the 1740s and 1750s was accomplished almost totally by self-teaching. His ability to produce German literary works in the 1750s was considered a remarkable

48

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

and unusual phenomenon. The use of German script and High German became more widespread in the third and fourth quarters of the eighteenth century. With the growth of formal and informal secular education, more Berlin Jews read German books, corresponded in German, and kept their business records in German script. It is impossible to date or measure these changes precisely. It would seem, however, that at the time of Mendelssohn's Bible translation (1778-1783) there were still many Jews (perhaps even including Jews in Berlin) who could not read any script but Hebrew.31 By the 1790s, on the other hand, a growing number of literary works by Berlin Jews in High German were extant.32 By the 1780s and 1790s, too, we possess correspondence in German script between many Jews. The ability to read and write German fluently does not necessarily indicate the ability to speak it equally well. Here, the evidence is even harder to find than concerning written German. Anti-Semites of the period around 1800 certainly claimed that even educated Jews spoke "im abscheulichsten Dialekte,"33 but such judgments are of course suspect. Reference to Jewish peculiarities in speech are otherwise scattered and not very specific.34 The fact that Jewish educators continued to fight against remnants of Jewish dialect would lead us to believe that such peculiarities still existed.35 When Jews learned to speak like their neighbors, they did not necessarily speak High German. Writers on Berlin indicate that even upper-class Berliners of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century spoke Berlin dialect. Felix Eberty's memoirs about the early decades of the nineteenth century depict some Jews from upper-class families speaking in thick Berlinerisch?6 Socialization and Entertainment By the last quarter of the eighteenth century, Berlin Jews were participating actively in such informal institutions of culture and socialization as the theater and coffeehouses, both relatively new establishments in the city. Jews were noticeable as an important group among the theater audience. The Bemerkungen eines Reisenden durch die koniglich preussischen Staaten in the 1770s remarked: "Among all diversions, the Jews love plays the most. On Saturdays the orchestra seats are mostly taken up by them." Traditionally, the Jewish leadership, especially the rabbis, had frowned upon theater as frivolous and potentially immoral. A remnant of this early attitude still manifested itself in an incident reported by Henriette Herz from her early childhood (around 1772-1773). She had been permitted by her parents to participate in a musical play with a group of amateur players. All the performers were Jews and the play was to be given in the home of a wealthy Jewish woman. The communal elders forbade the play and only changed their minds at the personal request of the young Herz.37 Later, she records attending the theater every year, but states that soldiers, ordered by the king to attend, filled the orchestra seats (Parterre). Her family had their seats in a box (Parquet Loge). By the late 1770s quite respectable people were regularly attending the theater. Fromet Mendelssohn records in a letter to her husband in 1777, about various social occasions. She had coffee with some Christian friends at which time

The Lifestyle of Modernizing Berlin Jews

49

they "gossiped about the French and German troupes. Every one maintained that he had no objection to enjoying such miserable actors. What do you think, dear Moshe, we did after coffee? We, the women, went to the French comedy, the men to the German. The best of the joke was that both parties enjoyed it."38 Moses Mendelssohn himself is recorded as having attended the theater on several occasions.39 The conspicuous presence of Jews on the promenades of Berlin is also mentioned by several authors. The same traveler who reported that Jews filled the theater also stated that "in good weather you can see them in troops [Scharen] on that day [Saturday] in the Tiergarten and Unter den Linden." The Saturday promenade seems to have been an old Jewish tradition, but the places where Jews took their walks in the 1770s were in the fashionable Western Berlin areas where no Jews lived. Literary works of the 1790s also speak of the promenades as places for Jewish women and Christian noblemen to meet.40 The life of the Jewish upper classes began to show the effect of cultural changes in other more subtle ways. A certain refined style was cultivated or imitated not only in the homes of the Itzigs and Ephraims but also in other affluent families. A number of wealthy Jewish families in the late eighteenth century had homes with gardens, shaded walks, and fountains. Many began to acquire country homes in Charlottenburg or other places near Berlin. They had fine furniture; their walls were decorated with paintings and sometimes with frescoes as well. The houses had Putzstuben (parlors) set aside for entertaining and dining with guests.41 Many well-to-do Jews collected art or had substantial libraries. The libraries of Dr. Joseph Fliess and of Aaron Meyer, the first dedicated to medicine and the arts, the second to modern literature and history, were among the attractions of Berlin described in Nicolai's guide to the city in 1786. By that year, too, there were lectures by Markus Herz on science and Lazarus Bendavid on mathematics and mechanics, which attracted the attention of distinguished visitors. The scientific specimen collection of Dr. Marcus Elieser Bloch was considered another city attraction, as were the art collections of Dr. Fliess, Benjamin Veitel Ephraim, and Daniel Itzig as well as that of art dealer Meyer Warburg.42 The elegant lifestyle of the Jewish elite is also demonstrated by the poetry albums of two women in the Itzig family. These little volumes contain autographs and short dedications in verse or prose written by friends and relatives. The entries in German, French, and English by both Jews and Christians are noteworthy for their elegance of expression and style. They show a considerable social circle of refinement and propriety. Many of the pages of Rebecca Ephraim's poetry album are decorated with portraits and other miniatures.43 Naturally this style of life required a considerable number of servants. It would seem that, at least in the eighteenth century, Jews had mainly Jewish servants. Such servants made up over 5 percent of the Jewish population.44 Some especially wealthy households had more than one servant. Felix Eberty's memoirs speak of his grandfather's coachman, his great-grandmother's aged cook Dorte (seemingly not a Jewish name), and other aged servants. Some affluent Jews had their male servants wear uniforms. Elderly persons sometimes hired a companion (Gesellschafteriri).45

50

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

In addition to the class of Jewish maidservants there were a considerable number of persons officially registered as Knecht or Diener. Such persons, however, were generally not actual servants but rather business employees such as bookkeepers, runners, and shop workers. Wealthy Jewish homes also often included a Hamlehrer. In traditional homes these tutors taught religious subjects. In the late eighteenth century, they were more frequently teachers of secular subjects. On occasion wealthy Jewish children were also sent to dancing masters, French tutors, and other private teachers. The patterns of socialization of the Berlin Jewish elite were clearly changing in the last third of the eighteenth century. Previously, Jews and Christians had mixed generally for business only. Now purely social interaction became ever more common. As in so many other things, Moses Mendelssohn was a pioneer in this. Beginning with his friendship with Lessing and Nicolai in 1754-55, Mendelssohn gathered a considerable circle of non-Jewish friends and acquaintances. They met in various places including Nicolai's garden and intellectual clubs. Christians were frequent visitors at Mendelssohn's home and place of business. Although Mendelssohn, who observed the Jewish dietary laws, did not dine at the homes of his Christian friends or at Christian clubs, this did not stand in the way of close personal friendships. Other Berlin Jews, too, entertained Christians in their homes; not only the women of the famous salons but also whole families entertained Christian guests.46 Changes in Cultural Orientation Education Closely connected with the transition from Yiddish to German was the spread of secular education among Berlin Jews. Here, too, though there was never a period when secular education was totally absent, the late eighteenth century was very different from the earlier half of the century. Until the founding of the Judische Freischule in 1778, there were no Jewish institutions that officially taught secular subiects as part of their curriculum. The traditional cheder (Jewish private elementary school) concentrated on Hebrew reading and study of the Bible and (especially) of Talmud. The young boys studied from the original texts and there were no textbooks especially written for school children. Wealthy families would engage a private tutor, but traditionally such tutors specialized in Talmud as well. There is evidence from the late seventeenth century onward of well-to-do Jews giving their children (especially their daughters) private lessons in French, music, and dancing, but it is hard to determine if this was usual even among the upper classes. Most general schools were of a Christian character and Jews rarely if ever attended them before the middle of the eighteenth century. A small number of Jews were admitted as students (chiefly medical students) to German universities beginning in about the 1670s. The total number of Jewish students in all German universities during the entire first half of the eighteenth century could not have

The Lifestyle of Modernizing Berlin Jews

51

been more than a few hundred, generally scattered a few at a time. Berlin itself had no university, but it did have a school of medicine. A list of all Jewish students registered there (covering the years 1730-1797) shows that there was a considerable growth in the number of Jewish medical students during the Seven Years War—an increase that continued until about 1770, when the number reached a plateau many times higher than before the war.47 Much of our information about the state of education for Berlin Jews in the second half of the eighteenth century comes from autobiographical remarks by Berlin Jews prominent in intellectual or commercial life. Moses Mendelssohn seems to have received much of his secular knowledge by self-teaching. In an autobiographical note he stated, "I never attended a university nor have I ever in my life listened to a collegium [university lecture]."48 Benjamin Veitel Ephraim, born in 1742 to the coin millionaire Veitel Heine Ephraim and his wife Elkele, describes the very mixed nature of his early education. He had been taught Hebrew and Talmud by a tutor but had also received three months of instruction in reading and writing German by a soldier. The only German book his pious mother allowed him to read was Luther's Bible translation. To this rather traditional education, he later added a more modern education, beginning around the time of the Seven Years War. He had private tutoring in French and then studied English and Latin. He read some important Enlightenment works and studied geometry and algebra with a Jewish teacher. Lessing helped to direct the younger Ephraim's early studies.49 Ephraim later became a dilettante writer and dabbled in political intrigue. More than twenty years after Benjamin Ephraim, Lazarus Bendavid also received an education compounded of a strange combination of traditional and modern elements. Bendavid, who was born in 1762, received instruction in the Hebrew Bible and simple arithmetic at the age of four. Beginning at age six he had a series of Polish Talmud teachers in a "Talmud school" till about age thirteen. Bendavid's report on these teachers varies from complete aversion to deepest respect. His favorite Talmud teacher taught him not only Talmud and Bible but also Hebrew grammar and Maimonides' Aristotelian logic. Bendavid's secular education was uneven but extensive. His mother taught him to read German at the age of three. He later received private lessons in writing, arithmetic, and bookkeeping. He read the many books in his father's library, including many Enlightenment works50 and taught himself Syriac and Arabic from a book in his grandfather's house. In addition, his parents engaged a French tutor, who also introduced him to the Latin classics. Bendavid taught himself mathematics by reading Euclid and receiving private help from leading mathematicians. He later received supervised but private instruction in philosophy, and attended lectures in physics and chemistry. He did not attend a university until he was twenty-eight years old and then only as the companion of a wealthy Jewish medical student.51 A similar story of unsystematic acquisition of secular knowledge comes from the autobiography of Samuel Lippmann Loewen (born 1747) who learned Wissenschaften (branches of knowledge) and English privately. When he arrived in Konigsberg in the late 1760s he was considered a wunderkind because he had secular learning.52 The memoirs of Henriette Herz (born 1764) also show the same

52

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

combination. She learned writing, arithmetic, geography, French, and especially Hebrew, at home. She could translate the Bible from Hebrew and knew several rabbinic commentaries. She also had a dancing teacher ("a little old Frenchman" with whom she danced a minuet at a ball) and briefly attended a (non-Jewish) boarding school.53 She read many novels from a lending library and attended a sewing school.54 It would seem that virtually all those Berlin Jews who acquired Western education before the late 1770s did so through private tutoring or through guided or unguided reading outside of formal classes. Only the few medical students had attended any institution of formal secular learning. The only educational institutions catering to a Jewish clientele were the traditional cheder, with its emphasis on rote learning and Talmud, and the Beth Hamidrash (school of higher Talmudic learning). As elite groups within the Jewish community began to acquire Western education informally, they began to look for ways to spread such knowledge to the less fortunate in their communities by opening new schools or reforming the old ones. The first proposals for a school for poor Jewish children was made during the Seven Years War by Veitel Heine Ephraim and Daniel Itzig. In their petition to the government in 1761 they proposed to open a school for twelve poor Jewish children in which they would learn Hebrew as well as reading and writing German, arithmetic, languages, and various branches of knowledge (Wissenschaften).55 The proposal seems never to have come to fruition. Ten years later a much more radical proposal was put forward by the Potsdam Jewish teacher Levin Joseph. He wished the government to certify all Jewish teachers, who would have to pass a governmental test in Hebrew and German. Children should be taught Bible and German first, before they studied Talmud. Joseph also proposed that he be hired as the inspector of all Jewish schools. His proposal did not receive approval, and one year later he converted to Christianity.56 The first modern Jewish school actually started in Central Europe was the Jiidische Freischule (Bet Sefer Chinuch Ne'arim). The Freischule was founded in 1778 by the son and son-in-law of Daniel Itzig—Isaac Daniel Itzig and David Friedlander—and opened its doors officially in 1781. The school had the support of other members of the Itzig and Ephraim families, as well as of Moses Mendelssohn. Mendelssohn and Friedlander were the chief authors of the first reader for Jewish children published by the school in 1779. At first only secular subjects were taught in the school, and the students attended the traditional cheder the rest of the day. In 1784, however, religious studies were introduced into the school curriculum. Both Christian and Jewish teachers taught in the school, whose main subjects were German, French, Hebrew, religion and morals, geography, mathematics, weights and measures, bookkeeping, penmanship in Gothic, Latin, and Hebrew scripts, and drawing.57 In 1786 there were eighty students, most of them poor. By 1803 the number of students had declined to sixty-five, of whom twentythree were from Berlin. The number of students does not seem ever to have exceeded eighty at any time thereafter, even though some Christian students were admitted. Only a small percentage of Berlin Jewish boys attended the school.

The Lifestyle of Modernizing Berlin Jews

53

In the following decades additional Jewish schools were opened, and there are records of Jewish children attending Christian schools, even boarding schools. By the early nineteenth century, Berlin was listed as having seventeen Jewish schools, several of them (generally the largest) concentrating on secular education. In the 1780s this development of modern Jewish schooling was still at its very beginning. The children in the Jiidische Freischule were a small minority of the Jewish children in Berlin. The school was intended for the poor, and many of the rich were probably still getting their education from private tutors. All this would change in later decades. Religious Observance Another aspect of change in the daily life of the Enlightened and wealthy circles of Berlin Jewry was in religious observance. These changes seem to have occurred later than the changes in such externals as costume, language, and visits to the theater. Most of the members of the elite who were born in the 1720s continued to follow Jewish ritual throughout their lives. This was true both of Enlightenment intellectuals like Moses Mendelssohn and Hartwig Wessely, and of wealthy communal leaders like Daniel Itzig.58 For example, when Mendelssohn was summoned by Frederick the Great to his palace in Potsdam on a Jewish holiday in 1771, Mendelssohn consulted the communal rabbinate on how to obey the king while minimizing violation of Jewish law.59 Daniel Itzig's mansion included a decorated room with a roof that could be opened to form a sukka.60 There seems to be little evidence of widespread violation of Jewish ritual in Berlin until the 1780s. Then the evidence begins to multiply. A letter by the Christian portrait painter Chodowiecki in 1783 states: "It seems that where you live the Jews are still orthodox; here, with the exception of the lower classes, they are so by no means. They buy and sell on Saturdays, eat all forbidden foods, keep no fast days etc."61 In Moses Mendelssohn's Jerusalem, published in 1783, there is an appeal to Jews to continue to practice Jewish ceremonial law. Similarly Michaelis's review of Christian von Dohm's book on emancipating the Jews written in 1783 speaks of Jews who eat pork.62 Certain members of Mendelssohn's entourage in the 1780s, notably Herz Homberg and David Friedlander, were already suspect in the eyes of the traditionalists as violators of the Torah.63 In a letter from Mendelssohn to Homberg in 1783 discussing various aspects of Mendelssohn's recently published Jerusalem, he mentioned the binding nature of the ceremonial law as one of the issues upon which he disagreed with Homberg.64 When it comes to matters of religious orientation and practice, a sharp distinction can be made between the period before and after the 1780s. In the 1780s we find the first evidence of considerable numbers of people who were no longer observing basic Jewish ritual laws. During Mendelssohn's lifetime such violations of Halacha seem to have been restricted to personal practice. It was not until after Mendelssohn's death that ideological advocacy of abandonment of the ceremonial law was put into print. Thereafter the move away from tradition increased rapidly

54

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

both in theoretical formulation and in practice. By the second decade of the nineteenth century, there is firm evidence that about one-half of all Berlin Jews had abandoned ritual practice—approximately the same percentage as affiliated with the reformed religious service at the same time.65 In general we can say that by the 1780s the change in outward Jewish style— clothing, headdress, theater attendance, language—was well under way. Many Berlin Jews were already living in a way that differed little from that of middleclass Berlin Christians. These gradual changes in outward style seem not to have occasioned much controversy in Berlin. Even advocacy of the Enlightenment was not necessarily seen as contradictory to traditional ritual observance or even active participation in orthodox organizations. Only after the death of Mendelssohn did the differences between modern-style Jews and traditionalists evolve into a welldefined split in the community.

6 Those Outside the Modernizing Groups: Poor Jews and Orthodox Jews in Berlin

The rapid changes in economic position, style of living, and cultural outlook that occurred during and after the Seven Years War did not affect all Berlin Jews equally. Not all the Jews of Berlin were wealthy or leaders of the Haskala. The changes that took place in the late eighteenth century, rather than creating a uniformly rich and modern Berlin Jewry, created an internal diversity in the community greater than anything that had existed previously. This chapter will explore two aspects of Jewish life in Berlin that might be skipped over if one concentrated solely on the affluent elite or the Haskala leadership—namely, the lives of those of modest means and the survival of the traditionalists. Although there was a certain overlap between these two groups, it is by no means true that all the poor were "orthodox" or all the orthodox, poor. The Gradations of Wealth in Berlin Jewry Eighteenth century Berlin Jewry had the reputation of being a very wealthy community.1 To a considerable extent this was the result of the restrictive Prussian laws that favored the rich and tried to restrict the influx of the poor. These laws applied to all of the Kingdom of Prussia, but they had an especially great effect on Berlin for two reasons. First, the laws were probably more strictly enforced in the capital than in outlying provincial towns. It is well-known, for instance, that Jews without obvious means were restricted from entrance to the city.2 Second, in a number of cases, government fees for certain privileges for Jews were higher in large cities than in small ones.3

56

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

By the late eighteenth century, the Prussian government had devised a complex hierarchical system of legal statuses for Jews. In late eighteenth century Berlin the hierarchy ranged from the generally privileged at the top, through the regularly protected (Ordinarii), and specially protected (Extraordinarii). In addition there were a number of communal public servants (Publique Bediente) permitted to live in the community without being counted in the total number of individual families allowed to settle. Dependent persons, such as servants and commercial employees, who were generally unmarried, were permitted to live in the city as tolerated Jews providing they neither married nor carried on their own businesses. In 1750 there were 203 officially recognized families of regularly protected Jews and only 63 families of the lower ranking specially protected. An estimate made over fifty years later (in 1806) shows a similar weighting toward the top of the status ladder:4 Generally privileged Regularly protected Widows of Ordinarii Specially protected Total

61 249 65 78 4535

Because the higher ranks outnumbered the lower legal rankings at least among listed heads of families, some historians have come to the conclusion that the Berlin Jewish social pyramid was top-heavy and that the wealthy were typical of Berlin Jewry as a whole.6 However, as will be seen later, financial status and legal status cannot necessarily be equated. The estimate of 1806 is not complete in any case. It excludes the Publique Bediente. These consisted not only of high ranking communal leaders like rabbis, cantors, and doctors of the Jewish hospital but also a much larger number of less prestigious beadles, ritual slaughterers, butchers, and gravediggers. Between 1759 and 1802, about 7 percent of all Jewish marriages in Berlin involved Publique Bediente. Besides these categories of Jews, all of whom had government-recognized legal status in the city, there were many merely tolerated Jews living in the households of the Schutzjuden. In 1812, for example, Jewish maids and cooks made up about 5 percent of the Jewish population of the city. There were an equally large number of unmarried male commercial servants (Handlungsdiener). The legal restrictions produced a considerable number of older unmarried Jews who never received legal status. In 1812 there were approximately 180 unmarried Jewish men and 85 unmarried Jewish women over the age of forty in Berlin. Some, though by no means all, of these persons were poor.7 The relationship between legal category and personal wealth, though close in many cases, was by no means absolute. Although the generally privileged were almost invariably in the wealthy tax brackets, and the extraordinarily protected and Publique Bediente were rarely wealthy, the regularly protected were found all along the income spectrum.8 Unlike the status hierarchy, the income pyramid of Berlin Jewry was heaviest on the bottom. Those in the lowest of the three income categories (approximately

Poor Jews and Orthodox Jews in Berlin

57

below 1 Taler periodic taxes) were almost always a majority or near majority of Berlin Jews. The cutoff point for this lowest category was 7,200 Taler in total wealth.9 The middle category, from 7,200 to 16,000 Taler in property, was generally about 25 percent of the total number of taxpayers. The percentage of those in the upper income class with over 16,000 Taler in property varied from about 10 percent to about 20 percent of all Berlin heads of family. Even within this highest category, there was a huge difference between the very wealthy who could be assessed on hundreds of thousands of Taler of property and those who were only well-to-do with 20,000 Taler or so. The millionaires at the very top of the Jewish income scale were not typical of Berlin Jewry as a whole. The statistics for 1789 show, for instance, twenty-eight heads of family with wealth of over 50,000 Taler, eight with over 100,000, but 254 with 7,200 Taler or less. The richest forty-seven Jewish taxpayers in Berlin in that year paid more taxes than the 90 percent of other taxpayers combined. Of the 148 with less than 7,200 Taler who paid some taxes, more than half had property of less than 5,000 Taler. The gap in wealth in the last quarter of the eighteenth century was greater than it had been in midcentury, both because the small group of the fabulously wealthy was much richer and because of the growing number of those, especially in 1789, so poor that they paid no taxes at all. The typical Berlin Jewish taxpayer with his 5,000 to 10,000 Taler in capital would live a very different life from the elite possessor of 50,000 or 100,000 Taler. It is difficult to compare the income level of the small Jewish taxpayer of Berlin with the typical Christian resident of the city. Any estimate is highly speculative. The best one can do is to multiply the assessed wealth by the typical 5 percent interest rates of the period. A person possessing 5,000 to 10,000 Taler would then be estimated to have an income of 250 to 500 Taler a year. The median Jewish taxpayer would earn just under 360 Taler a year—approximately equal to the

TABLE 2.

Tax

Income Levels within Berlin Jewry 1754 —

More than 10 Taler* 5-10 Taler

5 (1.5%)

1764

7750

1789

9 (2.2%)

12 (2.6%)

9 (1.9%)

13 (3.1%)

24 (5.1%)

22 (4.6%)

3 Taler-4 Taler, 23 Groschen

17 (5.2%)

17 (4.1%)

27 (5.7%)

33 (6.6%)

2 Taler-2 Taler, 23 Groschen

15 (4.6%)

29 (7.0%)

32 (6.8%)

27 (5.6%)

1 Taler-1 Taler, 23 Groschen

66 (20.1%)

89 (21.4%)

106 (22.6%)

85 (17.7%)

215 (65.6%)

245 (58.9%)

240(51.1%)

197 (41.1%)

10 (3.0%)

14 (3.4%)

30 (6.4%)

106 (22.1%)

Less than 1 Taler No taxes

328

416

471

479

Top 5% of taxpayers paid

21.4%

42.7%

39.4%

37.7%

Top 10% paid

33.6%

54.5%

53.0%

53.2%

Bottom 50% paid

15.7%

10.6%

11.0%

8.9%

Total

*These amounts were paid by each taxpayer 42 or 44 times a year.

58

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

income of a medium government employee and about 50 percent higher than the income of a master craftsman. If this very rough calculation is even close to accurate, the income of Jews in the middle of the Jewish tax scale would be about three times higher than that of the average Berliner.10 The middle of the Jewish tax scale would thus be approximately equal to the top 10 percent of Berlin households. In 1780 87 (almost 20 percent) of 471 Jews on the tax list paid 9 Groschen taxes and 30 paid nothing. Nine Groschen taxes would mean the equivalent of 167 Taler a year in income,11 just above the average income of Berlin non-Jews. Quite possibly, however, Jewish income levels were more than 5 percent of capital and, consequently, Jewish incomes were even higher. This does not mean that the average Berlin Jew ranked in the top 10 percent of Berliners in income. So far we have been comparing Jewish taxpayers with all non-Jewish Berliners. But the small Jewish taxpayer was not the poorest Jew in the city. Besides the servant class already mentioned, there were the destitute, who lived on charity from the Jewish community. Despite the restrictive laws of the government, the destitute were never completely absent from Berlin Jewry. The Berlin community, like others in the time, had an extensive charity system. This included not only the famous poorhouse at the Rosenthaler Tor but also a system of meal tickets for poor nonresidents passing through the city. There were also a number of Berlin Jewish residents who needed the support of the Jewish charities. In the 1770s some 100 Berlin residents were listed as recipients of the dole.12 The situation of the Jews at the bottom of the social scale in Berlin was often quite desperate. Many of the poor were old or infirm and had no family that could support them. Quite a few files of individual cases of the poor asking for attestations of poverty are extant. They show a cluster of Berlin Jews who were unable to support themselves. On the narrow alleys between the Nikolaikirche and Klosterstrasse, the majority of Jewish inhabitants (in 1812) were on charity, unemployed, or employed as domestics.13 The elders of the community were often unhappy about the demands for support by the poor, especially the nonresident poor. They even complained to the government about the burden of the many nonresident beggars, men, women, and children. The elders complained that many of them were good-for-nothings (Taugenichtse) and that others engaged in illegal trade. In a few cases Jewish poverty was associated with other types of social pathology. The elders complained to the police that they were asked to put up one Jacob Moses of Strasburg/Uckermark in their hospice for the poor—a man they characterized as a "fremder Landstreicher" (foreign vagabond) with an incurable disease. Another unfortunate case involved an insane woman in the Berlin workhouse who was described as "schwachsinnig and ganz entkrdftet [feeble-minded and completely exhausted]." The woman was said to have periods of lucidity and to require the aid of the Jewish community because she could not eat the nonkosher food of the workhouse. The most desperate case of all came to light in a police investigation in 1814. A Jewish woman gave birth to a child in the Jewish hospital of Berlin. She was a widow and had a four-year-old boy as well. The community paid for her transpor-

Poor Jews and Orthodox Jews in Berlin

59

tation out of the city and gave her a letter of recommendation. Approximately four weeks later, in desperation, she drowned her baby and was arrested.14 Life at the bottom of the Jewish social scale was so different from the elite lifestyle that it is hard to imagine that the disparate groups were part of the same community. Despite the attention that has so frequently been given to the small number of elite families in Berlin, they were not typical of the community as a whole, and neither were the desperately poor. The largest proportion of Berlin Jews were, in fact, the small taxpayers. The unmarried, the dependent occupations (maid, bookkeeper, etc.), and those too poor to be listed certainly were far less than half, and probably less than a fourth of all communal residents. Compared with the elite, who left behind many descriptions of their homes and style of life, and even of the desperately poor about whom we know a bit from requests for charity, police reports, or communal complaints, we know almost nothing about the lives of the vast majority of Jewish residents of Berlin. At most we can say something about what they did for a living and about their places of residence. There are almost no descriptions to flesh out these bare-bones facts. We know from the address lists of the Jewish community that it was common for several Jewish families to live in the same house—a pattern also usual for nonJews. The members of the elite with their private mansions clearly were exceptional.15 Most houses in the parts of Berlin where Jews lived were three or four stories tall and housed several families. It is likely that Jewish and non-Jewish families often lived in the same building. Often there was a Vorderhaus on the street itself whose inhabitants were usually better off than those in the Hinterhaus, which could be reached only through a courtyard.16 Often the wealthy, the modest, and the poor lived on the same street in adjoining buildings, or even in the same building. Still, there was a tendency for people of the same social group to cluster on certain streets. The wide streets in Alt Berlin near the river Spree (Burgstrasse, Poststrasse, Heilige Geiststrasse) tended to be inhabited by the wealthy. Other streets, like Jiidenstrasse or Stralauerstrasse, had more modest inhabitants, while the poor were especially common on back streets off Jiidenstrasse in the second police district or near the synagogue on Heidereutergasse and Rosenstrasse in the first district (see Maps 1 and 2). Sometimes particular occupations were concentrated on certain streets. This was especially true of the dealers in old clothes who all resided in the second police district on Jiidenstrasse, Stralauerstrasse, or the narrow alleys nearby. Several of the city's Jewish pawnbrokers also lived in the area. Some houses sheltered considerable numbers of students. Of those Jews who lived outside the main Jewish neighborhood in 1812, the most common occupations were merchant, banker, money changer, and Rentier (living off income from interest), while in the much less wealthy second and third police districts, the most common were maid, merchant, commercial employee, old clothes dealer, money changer, on charity, and Rentier. The occupations of the modest taxpayers seem to have changed somewhat between the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Such categories as Handelsmann (dealer), pawnbroker, or (old) clothes dealer were fairly common in both periods.

Police Districts in Berlin 1812.

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THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

In the eighteenth century craft occupations were more often mentioned—especially printer, Goldscheider, baker, gravedigger, and seal engraver (Petschierstecher). In the nineteenth century petty commercial fields like money changer (Wechsler), broker (Courtier or Makler), as well as Rentier were more common, and craftsmen figured less commonly among the modest taxpayers.17 The fit between occupation and wealth as measured by the tax lists was (like the fit between legal status and wealth) only approximate. While those listed as bankers tended to be affluent and those listed as Handelsmann (dealer) or pawnbroker tended to be of modest means, there was some overlap. The category of Kaufmann (merchant) was less of a predicter of wealth. Kaufleute were found all over the income spectrum though they tended to be better off than Handelsleute,18 Some of the same occupations were common among adults who were not listed on the tax lists at all. In addition, besides the numerous maids and commercial employees, there were over a dozen teachers, many students—some from out of town—a dozen women who supported themselves by sewing or knitting, and such unusual occupations as Bartzwicker,19 Krankenwarter (orderly in the Jewish hospital), musician, innkeeper, Huhneraugoperateur (chiropodist), dancing teacher, and gardener. Most of these persons were probably not well-off financially. The typical Berlin Jewish family, often headed by a small merchant, dealer, pawnbroker, or old clothes dealer, could make a living in good years and might be in danger of bankruptcy in years of crisis. They would be unlikely to own a house20 and would probably possess few luxuries. Modest taxpayers were not eligible for the post of elder but could be appointed to lesser posts. In communal elections they had less of a vote than the wealthy, whom they outnumbered.21 In old age or widowhood, a minority of people in these families might have had to depend on communal charity, but most might manage with the help of family members. It would probably be inaccurate to call these people desperately poor. Certainly they were better off than the vast number of German-Jewish Betteljuden who wandered from town to town and received meals in the homes of their coreligionists. They were also probably better off than most Christian textile workers, small-scale artisans, or laborers in Berlin. Still their modest businesses and relatively simple daily lives separated them from the Jewish elite who lived in mansions, collected art, and helped to bankroll the Jewish Enlightenment.

The Way of Life of Surviving Traditional Circles in Berlin After 1770 Although a growing, and quite visible, portion of Berlin Jewry began to move away from tradition in the late eighteenth century, traditional Judaism continued to exist and to have influence. Even among the wealthy and among leaders of the Haskala, there were a number of individuals whose traditional leanings and practices are well known. Mention was made in chapter 5 of Daniel Itzig's sukka, of traditional attitudes of Moses Isaac-Fliess and Veitel Heine Ephraim, and of the traditional practices of Moses and Fromet Mendelssohn and of Hartwig Wessely. In fact, one's judgment about

Poor Jews and Orthodox Jews in Berlin

63

the state of Jewish tradition in Berlin in the last three decades of the eighteenth century seems to depend on one's perspective. While the Christian painter Chodowiecki might assert that only the poor still observed Jewish tradition in Berlin,22 others had a different view. Several reports from the 1770s paint a picture (perhaps unfairly) of a Jewish leadership that is narrowly and intolerantly orthodox. The incident in the early 1770s, recorded in the memoirs of Henriette Herz, in which the heads of the community forbade a theater performance in which the very young Herz participated was mentioned before. Herz refers to the communal elders of the time (the same men who were supporting Mendelssohn financially and otherwise!) as "die reichsten und angesehnsten, aber auch orthodoxesten Gemeindemitglieder [the richest and most respected, but also most orthodox community members]." A Gentile official writing on behalf of an otherwise unknown Jew named Raphael (whom he referred to as a second Spinoza) called on the government to protect the man from the narrow-minded and intolerant Jewish leaders of Berlin who wished to expel him.23 Salomon Maimon, who arrived in Berlin in about 1779, was not permitted to enter the city because the charity wardens suspected him of heresy because he proposed to write a commentary on Maimonides's Guide for the Perplexed.24 The leadership of the synagogue remained traditional even longer than the overall communal leadership. In the late 1780s Lazarus Bendavid was told by the synagogue leaders not to lead the services after the death of his father because he had broken a number of ritual laws.25 In the 1770s the lines of division between "orthodox" and "modernists" were not yet clearly drawn. We can see this from the overlap in persons engaged in both orthodox and Haskala activity. The burial society, which later became a bulwark of orthodoxy and an opponent of the Haskala, included at least thirteen subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation among its seventy-seven members in 1778.26 The boards of officers of the Beth Hamidrash (Talmud study house) between 1770 and 1783 included more subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation (including Moses Mendelssohn himself) than members of the burial society.27 A generation later, in the 1810s, the degree of overlap between reformers and orthodox was smaller, and the lines of division were much clearer.28 The continuance of traditionalist ideas among the Jewish elite of Berlin is often evident from the way they memorialized the deceased. Although it is not always clear whether the perpetuation of traditional formulations and practices in wills and epitaphs is a sign of continued traditional beliefs or merely of inertia, it does demonstrate the durable power of some aspects of the tradition.29 Daniel Itzig donated eternal lamps to be kindled in the synagogue in memory of himself and his beloved wife, Miriam. Moses Isaac-Fliess's testament included numerous provisions concerning Talmud study and prayers to be undertaken for the benefit of his soul. The will of Veitel Heine Ephraim provided for disinheriting children who did not follow Jewish traditional practice. Both Ephraim and his son Zacharias Veitel Ephraim, who died in 1779, left funds for the upkeep of houses of Talmud study. These two foundations lasted well into the nineteenth century. The epitaphs of the late eighteenth century, which were exclusively in Hebrew, often took a very traditional form.30 In fact many of them are almost indistinguish-

64

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

able in form from much earlier epitaphs. Quite a number still speak proudly of the Torah learning of the deceased, or of their piety and charitable acts.31 The style of epitaphs began to change slowly in the last two decades of the century. A small number of elite Berlin Jews in that period were memorialized with long Hebrew poems in the Haskala style.32 More thoroughgoing changes in style are not noticeable until the first decades of the nineteenth century. The use of German (in Hebrew letters) was rarely permitted on gravestones until the 1810s.33 Except for these nineteenth century epitaphs, the sentiments expressed were extremely traditional. If one were to rely exclusively on the Jewish epitaphs of the late eighteenth century, there would be few hints that Berlin was anything but a traditional Jewish community. Quite a few of the wealthy Jews of the late eighteenth century had private synagogues in their homes. In several cases their testaments provided for upkeep of these private synagogues, some of which lasted into the second decade of the nineteenth century when the descendants of the donors had already converted to Christianity. In general orthodox institutions tended to survive in Berlin, even if the number of people using them declined. Until the controversy over religious reform in the period after 1812, the modernists made few attempts to change the traditionalists' institutions; they simply stopped patronizing them. The synagogue, houses of study, burial society, and charity associations of the community continued to have a very traditional form. Sometimes supporters of Enlightenment and reform founded their own organizations; sometimes they continued to participate in traditional ones. Jewish answers to a government inquiry from 1811 show that even at that late date most of the Jewish organizations in Berlin were still of a traditional type. The burial society, care for the sick, care for the poor, and house of study figure prominently in the report. Also present were such smaller but traditional communal chevras as the Zanduko [sic] (society for subsidizing circumcisions and care of poor women who gave birth), Hachnassath Kala (dowry subsidies), Malbisch Erumim [sic] (clothes for the poor), Talmud Thora [sic] (traditional schooling for the poor), Machasikim Lomde Thora [sic] (for supporting poor Talmudisteri). Two unusual traditional societies were the Ohel Jescharim, which subsidized rents for the poor, and the Shomer Laboker (mentioned by Nicolai in his guide to Berlin), which brought two uncounted charity boxes to a house of mourning. The poor would take what they needed and the rich would contribute what they could. Some of these traditional societies had a long history, but several had been recently founded—Ohel Jescharim in 1793 and Machasikim Lomde Thora in 1792—a sign that traditional charitable ideas were still very much alive in the 1790s. In addition there were five private family foundations that served primarily family members—founded by Moses Isaac-Fliess, Herz Abraham Leffmann, Veitel Heine Ephraim, Zacharias Veitel Ephraim, and Dina Nauen.34 Not all the organizations reporting in 1811 were of a traditional nature, however. The more modern organizations included the Jiidische Freischule and three social organizations of unmarried young men—the Gesellschaft der Freunde (founded 1792), Magine Re'im (1804), and Briiderverein (1814).

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65

Of reporting organizations, only the Jiidische Freischule, the burial society, and the organization for care of the sick had large budgets. Several of the traditional charity organizations had officers who were soon to become leaders in the campaign for religious reform—a sign that even as late as 1811 the lines between tradition and modernism were not yet hard and fast.35 Certain organizations, though, like the burial society, Talmud Torah, and Machasikim Lomde Thora [sic], seem to have been made up almost only of traditionalists. A further glimpse into the surviving traditionalist milieu in Berlin is given by the memoirs of Jacob Adam, a youth from Chodziesen in the Posen district who arrived in Berlin around 1803 to study at the yeshiva there. In his homeland the reputation of Berlin was questionable. On the one hand, the yeshiva there was well known. On the other hand, several people had expressed fear that the boy might be influenced by the atmosphere of the city and lose his piety there. When he arrives in Berlin, Adam finds relatives who no longer observe kashruth and who predict that if Adam is to remain in Berlin he, too, will change.36 The orthodox in Berlin, as described by Adam, were not all alike. Some were still recognizable on the street. Adam and his traveling companion were unable to find the synagogue until they encountered "einen Juden mit Bart" who could give them directions. Not all the orthodox in Berlin were so unacculturated. On the way to the city the two travelers had met a coach with a passenger whom Adam described as "a very good-looking corpulent man . . . with a powdered wig and three-cornered hat." Only later, when they asked others who the man was, did they realize that he was a Jew. It turned out that this man, Isaac Moses Gerhard, was a leader of Berlin orthodoxy, head of the Talmud Torah, member of the burial society, and a later antireform petitioner.37 Gerhard, too, expressed his fear that they would become "Epicureans" (heretics) in Berlin. Another orthodox leader mentioned by Adam was "Lipman Tausk" (Liepmann Meyer Wulff) who was "der reichste und der frommste unter den Juden in Berlin [the richest and most pious among the Jews of Berlin]." The orthodox institutions included a yeshiva that had forty bachurim (students) who studied Talmud with the three rabbis of the city. The forty received 2 Taler a month from the Talmud Torah fund. In addition there were ten alternates (Beisitzer) who attended the classes but received no funds. There were so many Talmud students at the time that Adam was unable to obtain a regular place in the yeshiva but became merely a hanger-on who attended the class (schier) of one of the rabbis. At the time, he wrote, there were still many pious Jews in Berlin who had much respect for Torah learning and were glad to support those Talmud students who "could flatter well and appear to be pious." Another source of income was as paid members of the minyan (quorum of ten) in the many private synagogues in Berlin where daily services took place.38 Others earned money baking matzos for Passover. Adam eventually gave up his Talmud study and attended the Jiidische Freischule. Despite the continued existence of a traditional milieu in Berlin around 1800, the weakened state of orthodoxy was evident in many ways. One clear indication was the lowered status of the rabbinate. In the mideighteenth century, at least some

66

THE STAGE OF "PEACEFUL MODERNIZATION"

of the rabbis of the city had belonged to or married into leading Berlin families. David Fraenkel, Mendelssohn's teacher, who was rabbi of Berlin from 1743 until he died in 1762, was the brother-in-law of Veitel Heine Ephraim, chief elder of the community.39 Such prestigious connections for rabbis became less common after 1800. Rabbis now married chiefly into orthodox families and not into the most prestigious families in the community. The leading families were much more likely to seek physicians as s6ns-in-law than rabbis.40 When chief rabbi (Oberlandesrabbiner) Hirschel Levin died in 1800, his successor was not granted his title. Instead Meyer Simcha Weyl (1766-1825) was entitled only Vice-Oberlandesrabbiner. After Weyl's death the title was further reduced to merely that of Rabbinatsverweser (acting rabbi). Some rabbis at the turn of the nineteenth century were even unable to ensure the orthodoxy of their own families. In his memoirs, Jacob Adam relates how his relative Abel did not observe the dietary laws. Nevertheless, Abel was a close family friend of one of the yeshiva rabbis "Leiser Zilz" (Lazarus Horwitz). The rabbi's daughter is described as Abel's "beloved" (Celiebte), and they later married.41 The overall picture we receive from a look at traditional circles in late eighteenth century Berlin is one of slow decline, but certainly not of complete collapse. Orthodox institutions continued to exist, if not to flourish, well past the turn of the nineteenth century. Certainly the traditionalists were no longer in a position to suppress individual violation of traditional norms, but they were at least able to preserve their own institutions. In the eighteenth century, before the traditionalists and modernists had divided into separate parties, the socioeconomic differences between the two groups are somewhat less easily discernible than later when divisions are clearer. But even in the eighteenth century it seems clear that the wealthier were more likely to support the modernists than were those who were less well-to-do. This does not mean that all the traditionalists were poor. The wealthiest Jew in Berlin at the end of the eighteenth century was prominently associated with traditionalist circles. Table 3 gives some idea about the relative wealth of traditionalist groups (members of the Jewish burial society in 1778) and of modernists (subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation around the same time).42 The division in Berlin Jewry between modernists and traditionalists went through several stages, which gradually blended into each other. Up to the 1780s,

TABLE 3. Comparative Wealth of Modernists and Traditionalists Tax

Mendelssohn 's Bible Translation

Burial Society

4 Taler or more

41 (47.1%)

2 Taler-3 Taler,23 Groschen, 1 1 Pfennig

22

1 Taler-1 Taler, 23 Groschen, 1 1 Pfennig

16 (18.4%)

18 (26.5%)

8 ( 9.2%)

32 (47.1%)

Some tax but less than 1 Taler Total who paid any tax

87

(25.3%)

10 (14.7%) 8 (11.8%)

68

Poor Jews and Orthodox Jews in Berlin

67

it would seem, even the Haskala intellectuals and the wealthy elite tended to be personally observant. In later decades this became less and less true. Although it is probable that not all communal elders were personally observant of Jewish ritual by the last decades of the eighteenth century, it was not until the first decade of the nineteenth century that a communal board was elected in which the modernists had a definite majority. Shortly thereafter, beginning in 1812, the campaign for a reformed religious service in Berlin was launched. In the controversy that followed, most Berlin families were forced to choose sides, aligning themselves either with the reformers or the orthodox. The peaceful coexistence of the late eighteenth century gave way to a division into two opposing camps. Throughout the period, despite the growing strength of modernism, there never ceased to be traditionalist elements in the city. Many, perhaps most, Jewish institutions in Berlin remained under the control of the traditionalists. Although they were losing their influence over the minds of the majority of Berlin Jews, the traditionalists continued to play an important role in Berlin Jewish society. Among less well-to-do Jews their influence was probably greater than among the wealthy, who are better represented in documentation. In addition to their own strength they could rely on the fact that the bulk of Jews outside Berlin remained strongly traditional. Aron Hirsch Heymann's memoirs from Strausberg, only 30 kilometers from Berlin, show that the forces of modernism had virtually no influence there in the early nineteenth century.43 When evaluating the influences of the forces of change in Berlin, it is important to keep in mind that the forces for continuity were not as weak as their relative inarticulateness leads one to believe. Certainly Berlin Jewry had gone through great cultural changes even by the 1780s, but those changes were stronger at the top of the economic ladder than at the bottom. The world of the elite with its mansions, gardens, and new style of living was not the only social milieu in late eighteenth century Berlin. There were also families of modest means and poor families, as well as a weakened but still substantial traditionalist element.

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Ill The Crisis of Berlin Jewry

Until about the middle of the 1780s, cultural change in Berlin proceeded with relatively little conflict. The advocates of a new style of living displayed considerable confidence that new forms of education, greater knowledge, and cultural rapprochement with the non-Jewish surroundings would have great benefits for the Jewish community with very little risk. Adherents of the Enlightenment philosophy felt confidence in the rightness of their outlook and in the ultimate triumph of human reason. In the intellectual realm, Moses Mendelssohn's work, culminating in his Jerusalem, in 1783, seemed to reconcile Jewish religion with the moderate Enlightenment philosophy of Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibniz and Christian von Wolff. The support and protection given to the Haskala by the elite of Berlin Jewry helped to give the movement some of the attributes of an Establishment rather than of a struggling insurgent movement. There is a remarkable parallel between the connection of the Berlin Jewish Enlightenment with the Berlin Jewish elite and the connection of the general Prussian Enlightenment with the Prussian establishment (at least as described by Henri Brunschwig).1 Unlike the French Enlightenment, the Prussian Aufklarung did not have to battle a hostile state and church. Instead it benefited from the support of both King Frederick II and leading churchmen. Government officials, teachers, and the press helped to spread Enlightenment doctrines and to use them as a program for the gradual improvement of society. For this reason, the Prussian Enlightenment, much like the early Mendelssohnian Enlightenment, was imbued with the optimistic hope that it could spread its influence without tremendous opposition and in conformity with the authorities. Within only a few years, however, the calm and the confidence of the leaders of the Jewish Enlightenment were replaced by a many-faceted crisis. To some extent this crisis was part of the general crisis of the Prussian Enlightenment, but it was exacerbated by specifically Jewish aspects.

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THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

The year 1786 can be seen symbolically as the turning point that marked the end of the era of peaceful change and the beginning of the period of crisis. The year was marked by the passing of two important figures in the history of Berlin Jewry—Moses Mendelssohn and King Frederick II of Prussia. The death of these two men had important consequences for both the internal and the external situations of Berlin Jewry. Mendelssohn had been a towering figure who held together the diverse strands of the Jewish Enlightenment. He was also a restraining influence on radical religious and philosophic trends within the Haskala. Soon after his death, these new and more militant views began to be expressed more openly. Most typical of the differences between the Haskala before and after the death of Mendelssohn was the growth of views contesting the binding nature of Jewish ritual law. These views were accompanied by a growing decline in the actual level of religious practice. The death of Frederick the Great may have had an equally great influence on propelling Berlin Jewry in a more radical direction. On the one hand, Frederick had been an ardent supporter of the Enlightenment. His influence and example helped give the Enlightenment a dominant place in the intellectual life of his kingdom during his reign. His successor, Friedrich Wilhelm II, did not share these Enlightened views. Although Friedrich Wilhelm's intellectual influence was slight, his reign was marked by an erosion of Enlightenment influence, both because of governmental suspicion of its potential radicalism and because of the rise of the new Romantic movement. This general erosion of Enlightenment power and confidence contributed to the weakening of Enlightenment confidence within the Jewish community. A more direct result of the death of Frederick II was that it brought the question of Jewish political rights to the forefront. The question of "civic improvement of the Jews" remained in the public eye intermittently from the time of Frederick's death in 1786 till the issuance of the Emancipation Law of 1812. The broaching of the question of a new political position for the Jews had tremendous radicalizing implications for the Jewish Enlightenment. The religious and educational issues discussed in more or less theoretical fashion by the early Haskala now had practical implications for daily life. This was especially true because of the nature of the emancipation debate. In the German lands, proposals on the position of the Jews were rarely based purely on abstract considerations of human rights. The question of the Jews was very much a practical political and social question. As the state slowly moved from the model of a society of estates, each with separate political and social positions, to a society of citizens equal under the law and all subject to the same government regulations, the question of where the Jews fit in became acute. In the eyes of most writers on the subject, the Jews could be granted equal (or at least increased) rights only if they could be integrated into society culturally, economically, and politically. The debate on the status of the Jews therefore centered on the question of the ability of the Jews to be integrated. If they could be "regenerated," then the granting of citizenship to Jews made sense. Those writers who believed the Jews were unchangeable because of the nature of their character or their religion opposed granting them equality. To a considerable extent the theoretical writings on the

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subject (and the practical discussion by bureaucrats) involved such questions of internal Jewish religion and culture as whether the Jewish dietary and Sabbath laws stood in the way of the duties of citizens. The assumption of most writers, often expressed explicitly, was that emancipation was a kind of bargain; in return for the rights of citizens, Jews would regenerate themselves, giving up those cultural, economic, and religious traits that stood in the way of their integration. Although Christian writers on the subject did not all agree about whether the changes were to be conditions of emancipation or merely the natural result, few separated emancipation from "improvement" of the Jews. Because the debate was couched in these terms, the commencement of serious discussion of the "civic improvement" of the Jews very much intensified the call from Haskala thinkers for changes within Judaism. Although, when speaking to the government and to non-Jewish public opinion, the Jewish Enlightenment spokesmen often denied that religious change should be the condition for improvement in political status, they often argued precisely the opposite to their coreligionists. In any case, the prospect that political integration was a distinct possibility raised the stakes in the debate about Jewish cultural change. Many of the Jewish Enlightenment writers, trusting in the good will and the moral function of the state, saw the internal moral and cultural improvement of the Jews as intimately tied to the question of emancipation. Jewish self-improvement would be both an argument for improved rights and a welcome result of their granting. For many Haskala intellectuals, Jewish tradition, and especially the Jewish ceremonial law, was now seen as a barrier preventing the social and cultural integration that was necessary to procure improved political rights. It was no longer a nuisance or merely backward, it was a political liability, which threatened to force the Jews to remain, permanently, an excluded and persecuted minority. Besides the radicalization brought about by the prospect of possible emancipation, there were a number of intellectual factors that pushed in a more radical direction and sapped the former confidence in an easy reconciliation of Enlightenment and tradition. The appearance of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason in 1781 demolished the "dogmatic" certainty of the Leibniz-Wolff system upon which Mendelssohn had built many of his theories.2 Many of the leading exponents of the Kantian system were Berlin Jewish intellectuals. Kant's emphasis on autonomous ethics also seemed to clash with Jewish heteronomous religious law. The 1780s and 1790s also were marked by the rise of the Romantic movement, which rejected many of the certainties of the rationalist Enlightenment in favor of personal expression and emotional self-development. For those Jews who were influenced by it, Romanticism helped to break down conventional sexual and family restraints. To some it also seemed to make an emotional attachment to Christianity more attractive than the arid and colorless Enlightenment, which still seemed to be the Establishment among Jewish intellectuals. These new intellectual trends had two clearly noticeable effects. On the one hand, the writings of followers of the Haskala both in Hebrew and German took a much more critical stance toward Jewish tradition. Satires on the traditionalists were published in Hameassef, and theoretical statements on Jewish religion rejecting the ceremonial law were published in German. While many Jewish Enlightenment

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THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

writers were becoming more militant in their call for change of Jewish tradition, they also began to show concern about the radical phenomena some of them associated with Romanticism, which they tended to label "superficial Enlightenment." The Haskala was fighting a two-front battle—against Jewish traditional religious practice and theory and against the "self-indulgent" who had "misinterpreted" the liberation of new thinking to mean personal license. Coupled with the challenges of political and intellectual change was an economic crisis that threatened the predominance of the elite, which had supported the new cultural trends in the years after the Seven Years War. The most conspicuous instance of the economic upheaval of the period was the bankruptcy of most members of the Itzig family in the late 1790s. The new families that took the place of the Itzigs, Ephraims, and Isaac-Fliesses were far less uniform than the older patricians who had combined modernism with moderation. They included both representatives of orthodoxy (Liepmann Meyer Wulff) as well as families who would soon convert to Christianity. At a time of crisis the stability of the elite was also lost. These and various other factors brought about a situation that had the characteristics of revolutionary change. The dropoff in traditional religious practice, which became more and more noticeable, was almost overshadowed by even more radical changes that related to a breakdown in the traditional functions of the Jewish family. The family had been the chief transmitter of Jewish tradition and the continuity of Jewish culture. Strong family values and strict sexual mores had long been typical of Jewish life. All of this changed in the years following the death of Mendelssohn. Divorce rates increased considerably and sexual constraints were very much loosened. Extramarital affairs and the birth of children out of wedlock, which had formerly been rare, now became rather commonplace. In many cases, love affairs involved couples of differing religious backgrounds. Connected with this increased sexual freedom, but going way beyond it, was a growing trend among young Jews to convert to Christianity. Rather than being restricted to the fringes of Jewish society, this wave of conversions was most prominent among the elite. To many it seemed that conversion had become an epidemic; some even wondered whether Judaism would survive at all. Just as the period after the death of Frederick the Great was marked by a profound crisis for Berlin Jewry, it also ushered in a crisis for the Prussian Enlightenment. Although the troubles of the Prussian Enlightenment were quite different in their basic causes and outcomes from the problems of Berlin Jewry, both the larger society and its Jewish minority passed through a period of confusion, experimentation, and radicalism.3 The general crisis of the Prussian Enlightenment is depicted as the result of new governmental hostility, economic crisis resulting from overpopulation, a lack of outlets for young intellectuals, and a loss of confidence in the power of the Enlightenment to solve these new problems. Like the more specific Jewish crisis, it led some members of the younger generation to radical breaks with conventional morality and conventional ways of thinking. Although there seems to have been little in the Jewish community to compare with the radical moral theories of writ-

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73

ers like August Wilhelm and Friedrich von Schlegel, there certainly was enough radical change in behavior to parallel the changes in Prussian society as a whole. The contributing factors that led to the crisis of Berlin Jewry have frequently been discussed in the historical literature. Usually the intellectual factors have been given greater weight than the social. The chapters that follow give a detailed picture of the forces that turned what had seemed at first to be an easy transition into modernity into a turbulent and crisis-laden struggle. In addition, the actual dimensions of the crisis are explored in great detail. Much of the interpretation of the meaning of the crisis depends on a careful analysis and description of the events of the crisis itself. It is important to determine whether the wave of conversions was really of the overwhelming proportions some contemporaneous writers describe or if the feeling that there was an epidemic of baptisms was an exaggerated perception of the time. Equally important is the need to look at the social dimensions of the phenomena—who was converting or having illegitimate children, what was their social and family background, how were they related to the supporters of the Enlightenment? Answers to these questions will help us understand both the nature of the crisis and the implications of the Enlightenment that preceded it. The analysis of the crisis period begins with a detailed exploration of the debate over emancipation in Prussia, the rise of intellectual radicalism, and the economic crisis. It continues by looking at aspects of the revolutionary changes in Jewish social and family life—the salons, the increase in illegitimacy and extramarital affairs, and, finally, the wave of conversions itself. Emphasis is placed on the concrete working out of these trends in the social life of the entire Berlin community. The collective behavior of large numbers of Berlin Jews is examined as closely as the theories and actions of the wealthy or intellectual Jewish leaders.

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7 The Struggle for Emancipation and Its Radicalizing Impact

The death of Frederick the Great brought the issue of a thoroughgoing revision of the political status of Prussian Jewry into the realm of practical possibility. As long as Frederick lived, the basic policy of the government toward the Jews would remain that of the General Privilege of 1750. Although Frederick was willing to make concessions to individual privileged Jews in order to reap practical economic benefits, his personal anti-Jewish sentiments made a wide-ranging improvement of the status of Prussia's Jews impossible. Very soon after Frederick's death, the Jewish community of Berlin would begin discussions of a reform of Jewish political status. Although the death of Frederick made the issue of Jewish rights a part of the practical political agenda in Prussia, the issue had already been under active, though generally theoretical, discussion among the educated public in Germany for several years before. This theoretical discussion, opened by the epoch-making essay by Christian Wilhelm von Dohm, Uber die burgerliche Verbessemng der Juden, published in 1781, played a very important role in determining the nature of the debate over Jewish rights in Prussia. Because of the essay, and the controversy it aroused, the discussion of the status of the Jews had a much more global character than previous exchanges had had.1 Under Frederick the Great, appeals for improved status for the Jews were always couched in terms of direct and immediate economic utility for the state. The king showed considerable willingness to give subsidies, favors, and special status to individual Jews because of their economic roles or in return for cash. But he never changed his view that the Jews as a group were unalterably harmful to the "native population" of Prussia and that the Christians required state protection from the economic competition and general dishonesty of the Jews. Dohm, who was an official in the Prussian bureaucracy, argued for a total reversal of traditional policies toward the Jews in Prussia and elsewhere. He argued

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THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

against the widespread contention that the Jews had to be restricted because of their dishonest practices and their hostility toward Christianity. Instead, he contended, it was the oppressive legislation itself that had caused the unpleasant characteristics of the Jews. The problems associated with the Jews would disappear once they were granted civil equality. They would then change their attitudes and take on social characteristics similar to those of their neighbors. Once they were no longer restricted to commerce, they would enter crafts and agriculture like everyone else. Besides challenging the assumptions that underlay previous policies on the Jews, Dohm's essay, and the debate that ensued, raised the question of whether Jewish religious beliefs and practices were reconcilable with citizenship. This, in turn, gave new impetus to internal Jewish demands for religious reforms corning from Enlightened circles. Both Dohm and his opponents agreed that emancipating the Jews would be worthwhile for the state only if it would aid the social and cultural integration of the Jews into society. Dohm claimed that there was nothing in the Jewish religion that prevented Jews from becoming useful and loyal subjects of the state. Others, notably Johann David Michaelis, claimed that there were important barriers to integration inherent in Judaism itself. Specifically, he referred to the dietary laws, which prevented social intercourse; the Sabbath and dietary laws, which would make it difficult for Jews to serve in the army; and the Jewish Messianic hopes, which prevented Jews from being completely devoted to the lands in which they lived. Similar religious questions were brought up time and again, not only by theoretical writers but also by practical bureaucrats debating law proposals. The work of Dohm and the long drawn-out discussion in the press and pamphlets in the decades that followed therefore not only raised hopes for a removal of many of the most burdensome restrictions under which German Jews suffered but also helped fuel and radicalize Enlightenment demands for changes in Jewish religious laws and customs. Closely related to the new nature of the debate about the political place of the Jews were the changes taking place in Jewish society, especially among the Berlin elite. On the one hand, the existence of a considerable number of acculturated and sometimes highly cultured Jews was an important argument in favor of the ability of Jews to be integrated into society as a whole.2 On the other hand, the acculturated elite had a different attitude toward their own status than previous generations of Jews had had. Since the members of the elite had acquired an acquaintance with secular culture and with the main ideas of the Enlightenment, the manifold restrictions on Jewish population, economic activities, and civic status were not merely practical annoyances; they were deeply offensive to their sense of human dignity. Their sense of outrage was accentuated by the fact that their personal accomplishments, both in business and in the acquisition of general culture, stood in marked contrast to their low political and social status in Prussian society. One can speak in a way of a "revolution of rising expectations" among these members of the elite. Having come so far, and, in many cases, having achieved the improved political status of the generally privileged, the remaining restrictions were particularly galling to them. Even if their lives were comfortable and the

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77

restrictions that remained upon them minimal, they were unable to tolerate anything but fully equal status. The leading voices of these circles adopted their own version of the Dohm program. Like Dohm, they insisted on the removal of all restrictions on the Jews as the only policy consistent with humanitarian principles; like many Enlightenment thinkers of Christian background, they also felt that, in return, Jews should give up their separate status as a colony under its own law and amalgamate socially and culturally with general society. The program of this elite was twofold. In its relations to the state it insisted on unconditional improvements in Jewish status leading eventually to full equality. Although insisting to the authorities that equality could not be conditioned on changes of the Jews, they nevertheless argued to their fellow Jews for internal reform of the community. An improvement of civic status called for internal "regeneration." Implied in this regeneration was not only retraining in crafts and agriculture and acquisition of German language and culture but also the elimination of those religious practices that stood in the way of acculturation. The combination of a new theoretical foundation for the debate created by Dohm's pamphlet, the emergence of a Jewish elite that desired emancipation, and the arrival of a more sympathetic Prussian government created the situation that would make radical improvement in the Jewish position a practical possibility. The campaign began very shortly after the death of Frederick the Great but did not quickly meet the success for which its original proponents had hoped. In fact it would be twenty-six years before Prussian Jews received near equality. The discussions of a reform of Jewish status in Prussia went through a number of stages. In the first period, 1786 to 1793, the Berlin Jewish community spearheaded a campaign for broad improvements in Jewish rights. This campaign produced only modest political results, but it created much upheaval within the Jewish community. The thirteen years that followed were marked by only occasional and generally limited attempts to procure greater rights for the Jews. This middle period was a time of disappointment and sometimes even despair for the Enlightened leaders who had led the first campaign. It was also marked by a nasty antiJewish pamphlet war. The final period was ushered in by the crushing defeat of Prussia in the battles of Jena and Auerstadt in 1806. As part of a widespread movement to reform the Prussian government and society, the question of the Jews was taken up again. This time even anti-Jewish officials supported some kind of change. Eventually the campaign ended with the relatively liberal Emancipation Law of March 1812, which granted Jews many of the rights of citizens. The First Campaign for Emancipation: 1786-1793 The issue of the political status of Prussian Jewry began to be raised very shortly after the death of Frederick the Great. The first petition of the Berlin Jewish community to the new king dated from December 25, 1786, only four months after his ascent to the throne. It was followed on February 6, 1787, by a second petition

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THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

asking the appointment of a commission to investigate the status of the Jewish community and propose an improvement of that status. This proposal was quickly approved by Friedrich Wilhelm II.3 For the next five years the issue of a "reform" of the status of Prussian Jews remained high on the agenda of both the Prussian government and the leaders of Berlin Jewry. Within a few months three general deputies of the Prussian Jews were chosen to represent them in the discussions. The three were Liepmann Meyer Wulff, Isaac Daniel Itzig, and David Friedlander. The two last named, who signed the bulk of the Jewish reform proposals, were, respectively, the son and son-in-law of the coin millionaire Daniel Itzig, the head of the Berlin Jewish community.4 Ideologically, Wulff was a religious traditionalist, while the other two were outspoken advocates of the Haskala. Wulff, who was probably the wealthiest of the three, played a much more limited role in the campaign for rights than did the others. David Friedlander's role in leading the fight for Emancipation both between 1786 and 1793 and, more successfully, from 1808 to 1812 was especially great. Most of the Jewish petitions and memoranda by the Jewish community in the period 1786 to 1793 stemmed directly from Friedlander's pen. It was in that period that Friedlander both put forth the clearest Jewish theoretical statements for radical improvement in political rights and moved from a moderate to an extreme position with regard to Jewish tradition. The two aspects of his activity during this period are probably closely related. Friedlander's "Promemoria" of May 1787 included a description of the restrictions on Jews in taxation, special noncash payments (like the forced porcelain purchases), nonaccess to government benefits, and limitations on occupations. An appendix dealt specifically with two pressing issues—the requirement of mutual responsibility (solidarische Haftung) for taxes and thefts, and the restrictions on Jewish commerce. In addition to listing restrictions, the document also presented theoretical and practical arguments against them. The draft argued against the claim that Jews were strangers in the land; it used the argument of Dohm that the faults of the Jews were caused by persecution. The "Promemoria" ended with the plea that in the consideration of the reforms all previous laws not be taken into consideration, but rather a new law be promulgated in consultation with worthy Jews.5 Despite the promises of the king and the broad program proposed by the Jewish deputies, matters proceeded very slowly. The Reformkommission was not set up until November 1787. Little was undertaken until the following October and the commission's report was finally presented in July 1789. Meanwhile a few improvements in Jewish status were proclaimed—the abolition of the Leibzoll (body toll) for Prussian Jewish residents (December 1787) and for foreign Jews (July 1788). The requirement of porcelain purchase was abolished in December 1787 in return for a one-time payment of 40,000 Taler.6 However, the bulk of the restrictions on the Jews remained in effect. The report of the commission contained a combination of limited improvements in the occupational rights of the Jews with proposals for their cultural "improvement." Partial access to agriculture and crafts were coupled with new restrictions on trade, requirements to take on such duties as army service, and such changes in

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behavior as the shaving off of beards. The general spirit that motivated the report, as so many later actions by governments of German states, was that of educating and improving the Jews. Only when the Jews were properly readied for their new status would full rights be granted. The commission expressed the hope that Jews would be ready for complete equality within sixty or seventy years.7 Limited as these proposals were, the royal council (Generaldirektorium) was slow to discuss their implementation or to inform the Jews of them. Only in December 1789, three years after the beginning of discussions, were the Jewish delegates given an excerpt of the proposal and asked whether the Jews would assume the duties included in the new law, among them military service. The deputies refused to make the requested commitment, pretending that they had no authority. On February 28, 1790, they declared their disappointment with the proposals: "We do not ask that the chains which weigh down upon us be hung more loosely, but rather that they be removed from us completely." They then replied to all the proposals, supporting educational reform and the opening of new occupations but criticizing the limitations in commerce. They also made a number of their own proposals.8 In a notable conclusion they declared that if the commission plan was not changed: "We will then have to utter a wish with deeply distressed hearts—a terrible wish— . . . namely that Your royal majesty see fit to leave us in our former situation, even though we can see that the burden becomes less bearable every day."9 The thrust of their reply shows their desire for broad improvements with few conditions and their unwillingness to accept the limited and conditional proposals of the government. The proposal continued to drag through government channels with little change. It received preliminary royal approval in January 1792. In May 1792, the Generaldirektorium decided on a number of preliminary actions for the reform of Jewish affairs. These were abolition of mutual responsibility for tax payments, the gradual paying off of Jewish communal debts, and the abolition of all coercion in matters of Jewish religious practice. Since the government felt that abolishing mutual responsibility for taxation would reduce the government's income from Jewish taxes, it proposed an increase of 13,505 Taler in the total taxes to be assessed on the Jews and ordered a permanent assessment of each individual Jew. These new assessments would not be changed every few years as had been the earlier practice but would be for life. An assembly of Jewish representatives would be called to make the needed assessment. In 1792 and 1793, as the details of the government plan became known to Prussian Jews, it became clear that the Jews themselves were far from united on the whole matter of a reform of Jewish status. One can detect several different attitudes. These ranged from a willingness to accept improvements on government terms, through insistence on different terms of emancipation, to fear of the entire emancipation process. The official response of the representatives of Prussian Jewish communities was rather negative. The delegates to the assessment assembly used delaying tactics and tried to reopen substantive issues dealing with the government plan before agreeing to any permanent assessments/Some seemed troubled by the increase in Jewish taxation, others by the restrictions included in the government plan, and

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still others may have had more basic objections. In the end, the assembly agreed only to a temporary assessment and seems to have succeeded in postponing further implementation of the reform plans. After 1793 nothing further was heard of it. There were at least two other reactions to the state of affairs of late 1792 and 1793. One group of wealthy and Enlightened Jews objected to the obstacles raised by the assembly and tried to revive the governmental reform plans. Another group of traditional-minded Jews expressed broad disagreement with the whole plan. The polemics between the Enlightenment leaders who continued to support the reform plan and the orthodox who opposed it sometimes became quite vehement. The traditionalist group has not left many records of the nature of its opposition to the reform proposal. The main sources we have for their attitudes are the answers given to them by the leaders of the Enlightenment. David Friedlander gave a lengthy reply to the objections of his frequent correspondent and acquaintance, the traditionalist Meyer Eger of Glogau, Silesia, in a letter dated February 1792. Among the accusations Eger had made were the following: "You have done your people great harm. You did not save it. You have made the king's burden on the people heavier. You have locked out the wandering poor. Their children shall have to fight for a land which does not belong to us. They will not be able to do business in the wide land. You have trodden the laws of Israel to the ground."10 In addition to the continuation of many restrictions in the new proposed law, Eger seems to have feared the new tax increases, the prospect of army service, and the abolition of the authority of the Jewish community in religious matters. It is likely that some of these fears were shared by the delegates to the assembly later in 1792. Another source for our knowledge about orthodox objections to the reform plan is found in Isaac Euchel's satiric play Reb Henoch, which seems to have been written around the beginning of 1793. The Enlightened author paints a very dark picture of traditionalists in general and makes numerous references to their attitude concerning the proposed law. In one of the play's subplots, the traditionalist title character helps organize opposition to the proposal. It is strongly hinted that orthodox leaders planned to bribe the government to avert implementation of the law. Enlightened characters, on the other hand, try to demonstrate that the law would be beneficial to all.11 Though Euchel's characterization of the traditionalist role in opposing the law is hardly fair, there can be little doubt that it demonstrates widespread orthodox fear of the abolition of mutual responsibility. The orthodox as well as the extreme wing of the Haskala realized that there was a connection between the move for emancipation and the move for freedom from the religious power of the community. Perhaps it is no coincidence that both the proposals for a change in the political status of the Jews and later proposals for religious changes bore the name "reform." The proposals and protests of the wealthy were of a very different type. In the fall of 1792, when it became clear that the assembly of Jewish delegates was delaying its assessments, two groups of protesters petitioned the Prussian government. The first group, thirty-four members of the Konigsberg Jewish community, included several members of the Friedlander family; the other group consisted of twentyseven Berlin Jewish heads of family, one of whom was David Friedlander's brother. The Konigsberg protesters constituted about one-third of the Jewish taxpayers of

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the city, but they paid 56 percent of the taxes. The Berlin petitioners were also recruited mainly from the richest taxpayers, more from newly rich families than from the older patricians who had supported the Haskala. A number of them were associated with the later circles of complete assimilation and conversion.12 The wealthy protesters were very upset about the delaying tactics of the assembly and seemed especially interested to see the abolition of mutual responsibility for taxes. The difference in opinion about the taxes between these affluent families and the traditionalists seems to have been based both on a different intellectual outlook (a communal, collective approach versus individualism) and on direct economic interest. The traditionalists, many of whom were not wealthy, did not like the increase in taxes, which were already a burden on them. The very rich, on the other hand, seemed to object to the old system because they not only paid the highest assessments but would have to make up for the shortfall of their poor coreligionists who were unable to pay their share. The new law would protect them from such unforeseen additional payments.13 All of the petitions seem to show the desire to move the reform proposal forward and not to delay it by demanding changes before proceeding with the assessment. In the Konigsberg petition of January 17, 1793, the petitioners go a step further. Since the other Jews seem to object to the plan, they ask that "at least we, the heads of families associated here, be freed from an oppressive chain from which others do not wish to be freed" and that, until the general reform is decided on, they receive the same rights as other subjects insofar as this does not hurt any third parties.14 The desire of the Konigsberg petitioners for individual exemptions had a clear precedent in Prussian government policy. In May 1791, while the government reform plan was still dragging along in the ministries, the king granted a special grace to Isaac Daniel Itzig, his chief court banker and highway inspector (Oberhofbankier und Chausseebauinspektor). All male descendants of Daniel Itzig (Isaac Daniel's father) were granted hereditary naturalization and all female descendants (including sons-in-law) received naturalization for three generations. Virtually all remaining restrictions to which they had been subjected as Generalprivilierte were eliminated. They were exempted from their share of Jewish taxes and had to pay only a voluntary gift to the Jewish community.15 They were subject to government law rather than Jewish law with regard to inheritance and they were permitted to own land. By this decree two of the three general deputies of Prussian Jewry (Isaac D. Itzig and David Friedlander) received full emancipation. In 1792 David Friedlander petitioned unsuccessfully for a similar naturalization of all the descendants of his father, Joachim Moses Friedlander. A similar request for naturalization by the descendants of Veitel Heine Ephraim was also rejected.16 The attempts, successful or not, of certain elite families to get individual emancipation have led a number of historians to see the elite as cutdng themselves off from the bulk of their coreligionists and perhaps of losing interest in the fate of other Jews. These varied attempts to gain freedom from the restraints do suggest a degree of despair about getting emancipation for all Prussian Jews. Since so many of their coreligionists did not seem to approve the emancipation plan, these leaders were willing to accept emancipation at least for themselves. This was coupled

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by many statements they made that contrasted the Enlightened "better" and wealthier Jews, with the ignorant, poor, and orthodox.17 It would be onesided, however, to speak merely of the selfishness of the Jewish elite and of its chief spokesman, David Friedlander. Despite their personal feelings,18 the members of the elite refused to commit themselves to army service and other duties on behalf of all of Prussian Jewry unless there was a much greater degree of equality than that offered in the proposals of the early 1790s. The statement in the deputies' reply of 1790 that they should be left in their old status rather than accept such a flawed offer seems to have been merely a rhetorical flourish, since Friedlander's relatives were among the petitioners of 1792 who asked that the reform plan not be delayed.19 Friedlander's letter to Meyer Eger in February 1792, is also an indication of his continued commitment to the reform plan despite the reply of 1790 and despite the fact that Friedlander had already received his own naturalization almost a year earlier. Finally, Friedlander's publication in 1793 of Akten-Stiicke die Reform der jiidischen Kolonien in den Preussischen Staaten betreffend was an attempt to justify his efforts to the public and show the value of a thoroughgoing change in Jewish political status. Later actions of Friedlander also show him going against the narrow interests of his family.20 Some historians have criticized Friedlander and the other Jewish leaders, accusing them not only of cutting themselves off from the fate of the bulk of Prussian Jews by their attempt at getting individual emancipation but also of a generally timid and even obsequious attitude toward the government. It certainly is noticeable that the outbreak of the French Revolution in 1789 and the ensuing granting of full equality to French Jews in 1791 are nowhere mentioned in the arguments of Friedlander and his associates. Rather than speak about the Rights of Man, they avoid such general principles and continue to speak in terms of utility for the state in the style of Christian von Dohm. The reason for the lack of reference to the French Revolution is twofold. First, Friedlander was well aware of the Prussian government's hostility to the revolution and certainly did not want to jeopardize the chances of success by connecting emancipation with French developments. Second, the circles most interested in emancipation were the wealthy members of the Berlin and Konigsberg elite. Such people did not sympathize with social revolution. Their main personal interests in seeking emancipation were improved social prestige and freedom from coercive religious and fiscal solidarity with the bulk of Jews rather than specifically economic motives. Still, despite their serving their private interests, it is unfair to see Friedlander and his associates merely as selfish bourgeois leaders uninterested in the welfare of their fellow Jews.21 The controversy over political emancipation in the early years of the 1790s had an obvious effect in radicalizing Jewish intellectual life. The effect on Friedlander's views has already been discussed. Several of the earliest systematic radical statements on the need for a changed view of the Jewish religion were issued under the direct influence of the final phase of discussions of the commission report on Jewish emancipation. Among these were Freymiithige Gedanken ilber die vorgeschlagene Verbesserung der Juden in den Preussischen Staaten, written April 1792, by Sabbathia Joseph Wolff; Leviathan oder iiber Religion in Rucksicht des Judenthums, written September 1792, by Saul Ascher; and Lazarus Bendavid's Etwas

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zur Charackteristick der Juden, completed in March 1793. All of these works directly connect emancipation with the need for a reform of Jewish religion. The Dormant Period The year 1793 seems to have marked the end of the campaign for increased rights under the leadership of Friedlander. When the community began new petition campaigns in 1795-1798 and in 1800-1801, its demands were much more modest. It asked only for the abolition of mutual responsibility for thefts and false bankruptcy, which was finally granted in 1801. In the campaigns for the change, Friedlander's name is noticeable by its absence. The petitions are all in the name of the officers of the Berlin Jewish community (including Friedlander's father-inlaw), but Friedlander himself had no involvement whatsoever. The credit for the successful abolition of responsibility for debts is generally given to the much more conservative Liepmann Meyer Wulff.22 The absence of Friedlander's name in the petitions of the period seems to be an indication of his despair at the possibility of complete emancipation. This was the period in which Friedlander made his most radical and desperate statement— the letter to Dean Teller23—which seemed to imply that Enlightened Jews might have to seek a place for themselves within the Christian churches. Besides being marked by a loss of nerve among radical supporters of emancipation like Friedlander, this was also a period in which some opponents of increased rights for the Jews issued attacks upon the Jews of a virulence not previously found in the debate. The pamphlets of Christian Ludwig Paalzow and Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Grattenauer were especially vicious. Grattenauer, in contrast to many other anti-Jewish writers, directed his main scorn against the modernized Jews rather than at the "unenlightened." His arguments seemed to indicate that the solutions to Jewish status proposed by Dohm and by the Jewish Enlightened would not lead to social acceptance for the Jews. The period 1803-1805 was especially marked by the popularity of the anti-Jewish pamphlets of Grattenauer and others.24 In the first half-decade of the nineteenth century the prospects for a marked improvement of Jewish political fortunes seemed dim. Hostility against Jews seemed at an all-time high. Meanwhile the Prussian state to which Jewish leaders had looked for an amelioration of their plight was itself hit by a tremendous crisis. The unexpected defeat of Prussian forces at Jena, in the fall of 1806, was followed by the French occupation of Berlin and much of Prussia, which lasted several years. The Berlin Jews, along with their fellow residents, suffered greatly both from the financial demands of the French occupiers and from the depressed state of the economy caused by the political upheaval. The situation looked bleak indeed. The Final Achievement of Emancipation There is considerable irony in the fact that the achievement of almost complete equality for which the community had struggled in vain in the 1780s and 1790s was accomplished mainly because of the French occupation, which in other ways

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caused great damage to the Jewish community. The felt need for a complete reform of the governmental and social structure of Prussia would also include a revision of the status of the Jews. The patriotic circles around the Prussian chancellor, Freiherr (Baron) vom Stein, were motivated more by a desire to strengthen Prussia than by Enlightenment ideas in their reforming activities. Often their attitudes toward the Jews were overtly hostile. Yet it was out of these often anti-Jewish patriotic circles that the proposals for a radical reform of Jewish status emerged. The first official to propose reform of the law on the Jews, Freiherr von Schroetter, bore the nickname "Haman of the Jews."25 His statements on the Jews in previous years had been uniformly harsh; he had been an active supporter of attempts to restrict such already recognized rights as the right to settle a second child. It is an indication of the degree to which the French occupation (and the granting of full emancipation in such French satellite states as Westphalia) had changed the situation, that Schroetter proposed a new law on the Jews in December 1808, which began with the principle that "all Jews presently living in our land who possess legal residence (Schutzbriefen and Concessioner^ and their families are to be considered native Jews (einlandische Juden) and Prussian citizens." Despite these liberal general principles, the Schroetter proposals bristled with restrictive clauses and with distrust for the Jews. It required Jews to shave off their beards and dress in German costume. It retained many occupational and residential restrictions and regulated their communal affairs. In all it contained 122 complex paragraphs.26 The extensive discussion of the Schroetter proposal and of later versions of the law in the Prussian ministries revealed many strongly anti-Jewish attitudes, even from supporters of a new status for Jews. Many felt that the new legislation would help make the Jews less harmful and less dangerous to the state. The coupling of a desire for religious changes among the Jews with any emancipatory laws continued to be widespread. Aside from the granting of local citizenship (Stadtsburgertum) to the Jews in November 1808, the legal status of Prussian Jews improved little in the years during which the law was under discussion. At first the impetus for the new law came from governmental circles, but soon Jewish communities as well entered the discussion. At first, it was the Jewish community of Konigsberg (to which the royal government had retreated when Berlin was occupied) who petitioned the government for increased rights. Beginning in early 1810, the leadership in the struggle for increased civil rights was taken over by the Berlin Jewish community. David Friedlander, who had led the struggle from 1786 to 1793, now emerged again as the leader of the struggle, this time in his capacity as an elder of the Berlin Jewish community. The situation began to change in 1810 for a number of reasons. The royal government returned to Berlin in December 1809. In June 1810, Prince Karl August von Hardenberg became chancellor of Prussia. Hardenberg's feelings toward the Jews was much more favorable than that of Stein and his subordinate Schroetter. In addition, he was the beneficiary of huge loans from Israel Jacobson, the head of the Jewish consistory in Westphalia.27 Hardenberg began to push his bureaucrats for faster and more favorable action on the reform of the situation of the Jews. In the meantime the Jewish communities continued their campaign. In a number of their petitions there is an air of desperation and despair brought about by a combination of the lack of progress on the new law, the enforcement by the

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government of long lapsed restrictions and financial demands,28 the difficult financial conditions of the times, and the conversions of prominent Jews.29 The Emancipation law was finally issued on March 11, 1812. Hardenberg was happy to inform the leading Jewish communities of Berlin, Breslau, and Konigsberg of the law's promulgation. On March 20, the elders of the Berlin Jewish community met with Hardenberg in person to thank him for his efforts. The law of 1812, though based in some ways on Schroetter's earlier proposal, was both simpler and less restrictive. Its thirty-nine paragraphs gave Prussian Jews most of the rights of Prussian Christians, including the right to live where they wished and to engage in all occupations. All special taxes were abolished, as were all marriage restrictions between Jews who were Prussian citizens. Jews were admitted to teaching positions, but not to other government posts.30 They would have to fulfill all the duties of citizenship, including military service; rabbinical courts were abolished with one exception.31 Remaining restrictions besides government posts were to be found in the Jewish oath and provisions concerning foreign Jews. Jews were ordered to keep all their ledgers, contracts, and wills in a language other than Hebrew or Yiddish and in Latin or Gothic script only. They were to be given six months to choose permanent family names. The successful end to the campaign for Prussian citizenship did not end the crisis. One of the reasons why the Emancipation was not a cure-all was the fact that it did not lead to social equality. It soon became clear that the Prussian government after 1815 intended to restrict Jewish rights rather than expand them further.

The Implications of Emancipation The final achievement of emancipation by Prussian Jews required a considerable amount of adjustment on the part of the Jews of Berlin. Some adjustments were relatively easy, such as registering as citizens or taking family names. Other changes, such as viewing oneself as part of Prussian society rather than as a member of a separate "Jewish nation," required adjustments for which not all Prussian Jews were prepared. The Emancipation law required Jews to serve in the army, to receive a secular education, to take their disputes to government courts, and to keep their ledgers in German rather than in Hebrew characters. Some would also argue that being Prussian citizens rather than members of "the Jewish colony" required a modification of the Jewish liturgy and of Jewish religious ideas. While the achievement of emancipation did not solve the problems that seemed so acute in the period of struggle for rights, it did have some influence in bringing about cultural and religious change in Prussian Jewry. Even the relatively easy step of taking family names brought about a change in the sense of identity of Berlin Jews. Eighteenth century Berlin Jews generally had only fixed first names and a bewildering array of surnames and nicknames. Now they would have to get used to using their fixed official family names. Almost one-third of Berlin Jews chose new names in 1812—some of them merely variations of their old names, but some totally new and acculturated. Most of the leading families, such as the Itzigs and Ephraims, now bore new and more acculturated names. Although traditional names like Meyer Ruben Hirsch, Hirsch Leiser Giiterbock, and Fradchen

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Nehemias Moses remained common, considerable numbers of Berlin Jews now bore names like August Heinrich Bendemann or Fanny Valentin. Although some of those with Germanized names were traditionalists, many changed their names as part of their plans to slough off much of their old identity. Heinrich Heine later wrote a poem that mocked the name change of one of the Itzigs who became Julius Eduard Hitzig.32 Another provision requiring the use of German script in official records also had cultural impact. The records of the Berlin Jewish community, for instance, which had been kept in Hebrew script even by the radical David Friedlander, were switched almost overnight to German. Letters received in Hebrew script were answered in German script, and it seems likely that in some instances the correspondents were unable to read it.33 In addition to names and forms of writing that had mainly symbolic significance, other changes caused by the Emancipation decree had a more direct effect on religious life. The requirement that Jews go into the army, while accepted by the Enlightened leadership, came as quite a shock to many of the more traditionminded. Besides the danger to their lives, they feared the violation of Sabbath and dietary laws that conscription would cause. A more subtle change implied by citizenship was the expectation that Jews see themselves as part of the state in which they lived rather than as members of a Jewish nation in exile from its homeland. This demand had been made forcefully by Napoleon to the Assembly of Notables of French Jewry in 1806. Here, too, the elite in Berlin had very different attitudes from traditionalists in the provinces. Two letters from the Jewish communities in Zempelburg and Krojanke to the Berlin community in March 1813, illustrate the sharp difference in attitude between modernists and traditionalists. The West Prussian communities write of their horror at the prospect of conscription, citing both specific religious fears and fear for "the congregation of Israel, the tribes of God." The West Prussians were willing to offer a ransom for exemption from the draft. They clearly saw themselves as a helpless minority suffering a new evil decree and not as newly emancipated proud Prussians.34 That not all Prussian Jews agreed with the two West Prussian communities is evidenced not only by the curt reply of the Berliners, which tells them to consult the authorities and refuses intervention, but also by the fact that several hundred young Jewish men volunteered to fight in the Prussian army in the war against Napoleon in 1813-1814.35 Another change in Jewish religion brought about by the law of 1812 was the abolition of the authority of rabbinical courts. There is no evidence of how Berlin Jews reacted to this provision, but in the long run such legislation was bound to weaken the hold of traditional Judaism. A Portrait of Newly Emancipated Berlin Jewry Even before the 1812 decree, Jews had been granted local citizenship. In 1809, 288 Jewish heads of family registered as Berlin citizens and paid the required citizenship fees.36

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Immediately after the Emancipation law was promulgated, Berlin Jewry was subjected to several governmental surveys that show the extent to which its social and cultural position had changed since the eighteenth century. The Jewish community demonstrated a variety of traits, some of them continuations of traditional characteristics and some of them a sign of how deeply the changes of the past two generations had transformed Berlin Jewry. Most Berlin Jews in 1812 (about 80 percent) still lived in the Alt Berlin section of the city. In comparison to their situation some seventy years earlier, they were less concentrated within the neighborhood. In 1744 most Jews had lived either on back alleys, streets with little prestige (like Rosenstrasse and Jiidenstrasse), or a few main streets (especially Spandauerstrasse). By 1812 fewer Jews lived on the back streets. A substantial minority now lived on the most prestigious streets of the neighborhood near the river Spree.37 A large proportion of the Jews lived in apartment houses in which there was at least one other Jewish family. Despite the substantial political and cultural changes that had taken place, the occupational structure of Berlin Jewry remained substantially unchanged from what it had been in the previous century. The distance between the rich and the poor was if anything even greater than what it had been in the eighteenth century. Forty percent of household heads in 1809 had been too poor to pay any taxes whatsoever. Most Jewish males were employed in commerce, either as merchants or as commercial employees. The "free professions" (mainly teachers and physicians) were a relatively small proportion of Berlin Jews (under 10 percent of employed males) and those employed in crafts were even less numerous. The campaigns of government officials and Jewish leaders to train Jews for the crafts had not borne much fruit. In fact there were more Jews (especially women) in personal service as servants than there were Jews in the crafts.38 In the period after 1812 the crisis of Berlin Jewry did not so much end as go into a new phase. Many of the problems raised by the struggle for emancipation, notably the question of integration into general society, were not settled by the new decree, especially since emancipation was less than complete. The achievement of citizenship did bring up new challenges. Shortly after the decree was issued, David Friedlander issued a pamphlet that declared the need to make a thoroughgoing change in Jewish religious organization and practice. For many of those who had fought for emancipation, two aspects of the effort had not yet been fulfilled. The Jews had not yet been integrated socially and the Jewish religion had not come to grips with the new political status. According to the reformers, Jewish communal structure and the Jewish liturgy were now out of step with political reality. A prayerbook in a foreign language calling for return to a foreign homeland and pleading for rescue from persecutors did not seem to mesh with the status of full members of society. The achievement of emancipation did not mean the end of the struggle. Instead, it made the struggle between traditionalists and modernists more explicit and drew the battle lines more clearly. Berlin Jewry would soon be divided into two camps on the question of a reform of Jewish religion. Meanwhile the hoped-for social results of the emancipation were not as easily achieved as the Jewish leadership

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had hoped. Many Berlin Jews still felt that remaining within the Jewish community even as citizens of the Prussian monarchy implied less than total integration into society. The struggle for political rights was by no means the only cause of the widespread crisis that began to hit Berlin Jewry in the late 1780s. Internal intellectual factors within the Jewish Enlightenment as well as an economic crisis of the old pro-Haskala establishment in Berlin were contributing factors. The crisis period was a period of both intensive intellectual creativity as individuals struggled to find solutions to the problem of integration into society and a period of confusion and disorder as they had difficulty finding such a solution. The attempt to find integration through the political process was both an attempt to solve the problem of integration and an exacerbation of the religious and cultural issues implied by integration. The intellectual attempts to work out the problem also had relatively little success in resolving the issue during the period of Berlin's Jewish crisis, but (like emancipation) they served as important guides for later attempts to come to grips with the same problems.

8 Intellectual Radicalization and Economic Crisis

Economic Change and the Fall of the Old Elites The period between 1786 and the law of Emancipation of Prussian Jews in 1812 was not only a time of struggle for political rights, it was also marked by considerable turnover in the Berlin Jewish elite. The two decades following the Seven Years War had been a time of the rise of an elite of coin millionaires and silk manufacturers to the top of the economic ladder in the Berlin Jewish community. That group, made up at least in the first generation of men who combined a respect for tradition with a desire for Western culture, was instrumental in protecting and encouraging the Jewish Enlightenment during its moderate phase. The decline (and in some cases the collapse) of the families that had led Berlin Jewry during the beginnings of its modernization, like the struggle for political rights, had a destabilizing effect on the tender balance of tradition with modernity found in the first generation of change. By the late 1790s the tight elite that had ruled Berlin Jewry was being challenged for leadership by new families whose views often differed from those of the Itzig and Ephraim families, whose influence had formerly dominated. The rise and fall of families was certainly no new phenomenon. Nor had periodic economic crises been unknown before 1786.1 Still, the gradual changes in leadership that took place between 1786 and 1812 had more impact than any changes since the Seven Years War. In the course of that quarter-century the dominant role of the three coin millionaire families and of the government-aided silk manufacturers declined. The new families that came to prominence made their fortunes mainly in banking, army supply, mortgages, and the lottery—a somewhat different economic base from their predecessors. Although many of them, like their predecessors, made their fortunes by working with the government, they tended to

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depend less on government subsidies and favors and more on their own entrepreneurship. Before 1786 there had been some signs of redistribution of economic roles and wealth. Certain occupations, notably banking, showed steady increases in income between the end of the Seven Years War and the end of the 1780s. Other occupations began to show sharp declines in the 1780s. Most notable was the decline in the fortunes of persons listed as pawnbrokers and of those involved in silk manufacture.2 The period of the 1780s marked the end of the prosperity of the silk industry and a decline in the cotton industry as well. Several leading silk manufacturers went bankrupt between 1783 and 1785. Among them were Isaak Hirsch, Meyer Benjamin Levy, and Hirsch Moses Riess. The Riess family had been one of the wealthiest in Berlin and were related by marriage to the Ephraims. The factory of the Bernhard family, in which Moses Mendelssohn was a partner, also went into a steep decline. From a peak of 120 looms it declined to a mere 17 in 1805 and 6 in 1806. Although the cotton industry suffered less from the crisis, it too showed a decline. Isaac Benjamin Wulff s 110 looms and 100 cotton print workers of 1785 fell to only 50 looms and 41 printers by 1795.3 Meanwhile a group of new families began to challenge, and then surpass, the coin millionaires as the wealthiest Jewish families in Berlin. These families were very heterogeneous in nature. Some were old Berlin families who had been rich before the Seven Years War and now recovered their position of dominance (for instance, the Gumpertz and Bendix families). Others married into affluent Berlin families. Some of the new Jewish elite were recent arrivals in the city, while others had come from moderately well-off Berlin native families. In ideology also there was considerable difference. Although all were members of the new elite, the pious Liepmann Meyer Wulff (Lipman Tausk) was quite different from the Delmars and Limans who eventually converted to Christianity. In general one could say, though, that the new elite was less tightly connected with the Jewish Enlightenment than were the Itzigs and the Ephraims. By the turn of the century, Liepmann Meyer Wulff (1745-1812) was the wealthiest Jew in Berlin. Unlike the Ephraims and the Itzigs, he shunned the limelight and devoted himself almost exclusively to business and to Jewish affairs. He was the scion of one of the original Viennese families that had come to Berlin in the 1670s.4 Liepmann Meyer Wulff s personal fortune began to grow in the late 1770s and almost doubled in the 1780s. His enterprises were extremely varied and included supplying the Prussian army with grain, supplying horses to the post office, and leasing the pawn business of the Potsdam military orphanage (a loan office designed to combat usury). His largest enterprise seems to have been as chief lottery collector for Prussia, a concession he held from 1795 to 1812. The annual gross income of the lottery ranged from 750,000 to 1,800,000 Taler. Wulff also engaged in largescale mortgage loans on Berlin real estate, the purchase of Prussian state bonds, and silver deliveries to the Prussian mint. At his death (by which time he was not as wealthy as he had been a few years earlier) his estate was worth about one million Taler, still making him the richest man in Berlin. Wulff was a traditionalist who belonged to the burial society and founded a long-lasting private synagogue. When he died he left a legacy for the upkeep of

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six young Talmud scholars in his private synagogue. He was not, however, a total opponent of the Enlightenment, since he subscribed to a number of Enlightenment works.5 Although personally traditional, Wulff married off his daughters into leading families with a strongly modernist tendency. Two daughters married members of the Ephraim family (though another Ephraim was a bitter business rival). A third daughter, the saloniere Amalie (Malka), married the wealthy sugar refiner Jacob Herz Beer, in whose home the early reformed temple in Berlin was located. The couple's four children included the composer Giacomo Meyerbeer.6 Wulff and his sons-in-law began to receive the communal recognition that went with their great wealth.7 After the death of Daniel Itzig in 1799, Wulff reluctantly accepted the post of chief elder and represented the community in its petitions for greater civil rights. His sons-in-law Jacob Herz Beer and Victor Ebers served as elders or assistant elders in the first decades of the nineteenth century. Other families came to wealth by different roads. The family of Salomon Moses Levy (Shlomo Chalfan) came from Posen in what was then Poland. By 1774 Salomon Levy had already received a General Privilege. His family was involved in dealing with the mint and in banking. In the 1790s they were also involved in grain deliveries for the army. One of Salomon's sons, Samuel, married Sara, the daughter of Daniel Itzig. The childless couple hosted a salon in their magnificent mansion near the royal palace. Madame Levy, who survived her husband by many decades, was a well-known hostess, a cultivated amateur musician, and an important philanthropist in the Jewish community. Salomon's other son, Martin (Moses), was the wealthier of the two brothers and was involved in all sorts of government finance. He was the third richest Jewish taxpayer in 1809. The children of Martin S. Levy seem to have been interested in high living and social respectability at least as much as business. The oldest, Ferdinand Moritz Levy, was a leading government financier. He converted to Christianity together with his brother Louis in 1806 and was soon ennobled as the Freiherr von Delmar. A few years later he was chosen a city councillor of Berlin. His fancy dinner parties and his quickness to challenge to duels were widely known.8 More short lived was the affluence of the Liepmann family, who changed their names to Liman and converted to Christianity. The children of the pious Nathan Liepmann, they reached the peak of their wealth in the 1790s and were already in decline in the years after 1806. Other families that became exceedingly rich in the early nineteenth century were the various branches of the Bendix family (who took the names Bendemann and Bernsdorff as well as Bendix); the von Halles, who married into the Levy and Bendix families; and the sons of Moses Mendelssohn, Joseph and Abraham, who made a fortune as bankers.9 Even more remarkable than the rise of these and other families was the decline of the older families. Most notable of these was the fate of the Itzigs. In the early 1790s the Itzigs still seemed at the height of their power. Daniel Itzig was chief elder of the community; his son Isaac and son-in-law David Friedlander headed the Jiidische Freischule and were leading the fight for Emancipation. In 1791 the family had become the only Jewish family with full citizens' rights. At the time they paid over 10 percent of all Jewish taxes in the city. Daniel Itzig alone seems to have had an estate of one million Taler.

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The family's collapse was rapid, however. Isaac, the most prominent of the sons, entered a contract with the French government to supply 10,000 horses. When the French government did not pay him the 620,000 Taler it owed him in 1796, his firm became insolvent. One year later it declared formal bankruptcy. Isaac had to give up his real estate holdings, including the estate he had purchased in 1786. The bankruptcy proceedings had not yet been settled when he died in 1806.10 Despite the bankruptcy, Isaac Daniel Itzig retained some of his reputation. He continued to hold some minor communal offices and remained the head of the Free School. Daniel Itzig had to change his will and sell some of his property and library to support a family trust to help poor relatives. Of his sons only one was still solvent when Daniel died in 1799. One son, Jacob, was even arrested twice for fraudulent manipulations of government bonds in the early nineteenth century. In general, Itzig's daughters and sons-in-law survived the collapse of the Itzig family fortune better than his sons. A few, like Martin Hirsch Mendheim and Mendel Oppenheim, still figured among the wealthiest Jews of the city around 1812. Daniel Itzig's daughters, Sara Levy, Cacilie von Eskeles, and Fanny von Arnstein, seem to have retained their social positions. David Friedlander also retained his social standing and was even elected a communal elder in 1808. This standing did not come primarily from his economic activities, however, especially since he had retired from business in 1804 to devote himself to public service. In 1809 he was the only unbaptized Jew elected to the Berlin city council.11 The Ephraim family also suffered some financial setbacks, though not as severely as the Itzigs. The youngest son of Veitel Heine Ephraim, Benjamin, was an adventurer who was involved with all sorts of diplomatic intrigues. He also dabbled in literary activities. In 1806 he was arrested as a spy and in 1809 he officially declared bankruptcy. At his death his estate was evaluated at a mere 4,400 Taler, more than a third of it in furniture. The youngest daughter of Veitel Heine Ephraim, Rosel, married Aron Meyer, one of the wealthiest men in Berlin. The family leased the alum works in Freienwalde and the couple's sons became inspectors of mines. By the time Aron Meyer died, in 1797, he had become bankrupt. Veitel's oldest daughter, Edel, married the very rich silk manufacturer Moses Ries, who died in 1774 leaving an estate of 200,000 Taler. Within ten years, however, their son Hirsch was bankrupt, with assets of 30,000 Taler and debts of 80,000. The widow of another son of Veitel Ephraim had to be placed under a conservatorship in 1787 because she was outspending her widow's pension. A grandson, David Ephraim (who married a daughter of Daniel Itzig), went bankrupt in 1805 and fled Berlin. In Vienna he converted to Christianity and took the name Johann Andreas Schmidt.12 Felix Eberty, a great-grandson of Veitel Ephraim, records the fact that his father, Hermann Eberty, suffered severe business losses in 1808. Nevertheless, the family seems to have lived a comfortable bourgeois life on their remaining assets. Despite these disasters in the Ephraim family after 1780, however, the family retained greater wealth than did the Itzigs. In 1809 three of Veitel Heine Ephraim's descendants were among the top twenty Jewish taxpayers in the city.13 In 1814 one of these persons was evaluated as having a fortune of 250,000 Taler and another

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as having 200,000. At the same time, none of the descendants of Daniel Itzig in the male line were listed among the forty-eight wealthiest Jews of the city and the two in the female line were listed at "only" 100,000 and 50,000 Taler, respectively.14 There were no descendants of Moses Isaac-Fliess on the list. The Fliess family lost its fortune much quicker than the Itzigs and the Ephraims. The sons and daughters of Moses seemed much more interested in high living than in the family businesses. Insofar as they pursued economic activities at all, they often did so in the professions (especially medicine) rather than in business. They showed much less interest in the activities of the Jewish Enlightenment than did the members of the Itzig and Ephraim families. They were among the first members of the Berlin elite to convert to Christianity. Several of the men had mistresses and illegitimate children. As early as the 1780s Daniel Itzig stated publicly that they were mismanaging their family fortune.15 Other bankruptcies of wealthy families include the downfall of the recently baptized Ephraim (Ernst) Cohen in 1804, an event described in detail by the tutor of Cohen's children, Karl August Varnhagen von Ense. Cohen had to flee the country. His mother-in-law, Fanny (Vogelchen) Bernhard, the widow of the wealthy silk merchant Moses Bernhard, and the daughter of Moses Isaac-Fliess, was left so destitute by this bankruptcy that she could not afford a lawyer to make claims for restitution.16 In 1809 Joseph Mosson, son-in-law of Liepmann Meyer Wulff, went bankrupt. His wife, who retained some of her family fortune, never forgave him for his losses.17 It is possible that the turnover in the Jewish elite of the 1790s, and especially the downfall of the Itzigs, may have some relationship to the mysterious behavior of David Friedlander in the late 1790s. Friedlander's campaigns on behalf of Jewish emancipation seem to break off after 1793 and only resume in 1808. In the latter year he was elected an elder of the community, a position to which he devoted a great deal of energy. In this intermediate period, Friedlander not only retired from his business but, in the spring of 1799, wrote the anonymous letter to Dean Teller in which he proposed acceptance of baptism by Berlin Jews. The letter to Teller detailed the dilemma of its author(s) who had abandoned observance of Jewish ritual but still believed in the rational "natural" religion that they saw as the essence of Judaism. They asked Teller, a leading Enlightened clergyman in Berlin, if they could be admitted to the Protestant church, on the condition that their acceptance of baptism not be deemed to imply assent to the nonrational dogmas of the church. The exact intention of Friedlander in the letter has been debated frequently. There can be little doubt, however, that the decision to write such a letter was a sign of despair. Friedlander clearly had given up hope that there would be either a thoroughgoing emancipation of the Jews or a complete reform of the Jewish religion. Besides these well-known motivations, the fate of the Itzig family might also have been a factor in the writing of the letter. The letter appeared in print in Berlin in April 1799. Friedlander's father-in-law, Daniel Itzig, was already over seventy-five years of age. He died one month after the appearance of the letter and was succeeded as chief elder of the community by Liepmann Meyer Wulff, who

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was known as a traditionalist. The first major Itzig bankruptcy had occurred two years earlier. In its wake Isaac Daniel Itzig had been reduced in his position in the Jewish communal leadership.18 Although son-in-law David Friedlander's personal financial position and status had not been hurt by the setbacks to the Itzig family, he may have feared the impact of the loss of influence of his pro-Enlightenment family.19 Several years after the bankruptcy of the Itzigs, a much more global crisis hit Berlin, which had implications for the whole future of Prussia and also affected the financial and political status of Berlin Jews. In the fall of 1806, the army of Prussia was defeated by Napoleon's army. Berlin was occupied by French troops from October 1806, until December 1808. The royal family, which had fled shortly before the entry of the French troops, returned to the city in December 1809.20 The period of the French occupation was one of considerable economic suffering for the city. Although anti-Jewish writers accused the Jews of having enriched themselves in the war, it would seem that Berlin Jewry was adversely affected by Prussia's loss of the war. The Jewish tax list made up in 1809 shows the extent to which the community suffered in the war. One hundred thirty-one heads of family (including widows) were listed as poverty-stricken living from the aid of others; 41 paid only Schutzgeld credited against the meat tax, but no capital levy; 104 had been granted tax reductions because of reduced income; and only 216 (about 43 percent) paid full taxes. With an annual community budget of about 39,454 Taler, 4,242 Taler had to be written off as uncollectable for 1809. Another list writes off 32,991 Taler as uncollectable amounts in arrears since 1794. In a report to the government in 1809, David Friedlander, writing on behalf of the elders of the community, declares that the number of Jewish heads of households had declined from 453 to 405 since 1806. Of the families still in the city only 270 paid taxes to the community and 170 of those were in arrears.21 The situation was considered so serious that the board of elders chosen by the Jewish community in December 1808, refused to take office until the community agreed to grant them full power of attorney to speak for the community. They circulated this request for the signature of all male heads of family. The sense of crisis in the document is obvious.22 Still, it would be erroneous to think that all Berlin Jews were impoverished by the crisis. One hundred seven families had their taxes increased to cover some of the shortfall of the impoverished families. In 1814, forty-six of the seventy richest firms in Berlin were owned by Jews or recently baptized Jews.23 The most significant result of the three economic crises that hit Berlin Jewry between 1780 and 1812—the collapse of the silk industry in the 1780s, the collapse of the Itzig family at the end of the 1790s, and the French occupation of 1806-08 and its aftermath—was a change in the leadership of Berlin Jewry. The old elite that was so dominant during the years of Mendelssohn's philosophic activity was weakened tremendously. By 1815 the situation was quite different from what it had been a quarter of a century earlier. In the tax list of 1780 the Itzigs, Ephraims, and Fliesses made up thirteen of the twenty-five richest Jewish taxpayers in Berlin, and in 1789 they were still eleven. By 1814 they were a mere two among the top twenty and four of the top forty-eight.24

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The new elite families were very heterogeneous in background, cultural orientation, and economic activities. Some allied themselves with the older declining families by marriage; others did not. Unlike the firmly united elite of the 1760s, 1770s, and 1780s who supported the moderate Enlightenment, the new elite presented less of a united front on cultural matters. Like some of the members of the older families, many of them succumbed to the blandishments of high living and conversion to Christianity, which were so widespread during the period.

Intellectual Radicalization Not only the political and economic conditions of Berlin Jewry underwent tremendous change in the years between the death of Mendelssohn and the granting of emancipation. The nature of the intellectual movement for modernization went through a total transformation. The radicalization of the Haskala both brought into the open tendencies that had already existed in hidden form during the life of Mendelssohn and, at the same time, undercut many of the hopes and desires of the Mendelssohn circle for a stable synthesis of tradition and Enlightenment. Although in great part these changes were the result of internal intellectual developments in the Jewish Enlightenment movement, they were also influenced in many ways by the political and economic changes that were occurring at the same time.25 The public debate over emancipation automatically gave increased importance to questions of integration and raised the issue of whether Jewish tradition stood in the way of full participation in the life of society at large. The crisis of the economic leadership of Berlin Jewry removed from the scene the chief Maecenases of the Jewish Enlightenment and may have helped contribute to the sense of despair so noticeable in the late 1790s. The pace of events in the intellectual sphere was at least as rapid as it was in the political and economic spheres. In fact, much of the most rapid change took place in the same few years as the first campaign for greater political rights (17861793). By the late 1790s much of the energy of the Jewish Enlightenment seemed spent. The great wave of publications of the late 1780s and 1790s, especially in Hebrew, began to decline by the late 1790s. From that time until the coming of the debate over religious reform after 1812, there were relatively few influential works written by Berlin Jews. Berlin Jewry was not to regain the intellectual influence on European Jewry it had from the 1770s till the late 1790s for a long time, if ever. Both the specific demands of the Haskala and its general principles and aims changed greatly in the period of the 1780s and 1790s. The last years of Moses Mendelssohn's life had seen the emergence of a moderate ideology, which nevertheless challenged tradition on certain matters, notably education. Mendelssohn believed that traditional Jewish religious practice and belief were totally reconcilable with the Enlightenment tenet that human reason is supreme. Therefore, he claimed, the acquisition of Western culture would not be a threat to the Jewish religion but an enhancement. Jews should become versed in the culture of their surroundings, but still observe Jewish ritual law. As for political equality,

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Mendelssohn demanded it as a right for all human beings. He explicitly rejected any religious concessions in return for emancipation. Religious beliefs were a matter of conscience and not subject to the rule of the state, which was restricted to relationships between human beings. Hartwig Wessely, Mendelssohn's counterpart as the leader of the Haskala in the Hebrew language, agreed with Mendelssohn that Jewish religious law was of divine origin and was not to be changed. Despite his vigorous dispute with the rabbinic authorities of his day (many of whom had supported his earlier work) over proposed educational reform, Wessely always remained a firm believer in the traditional religious values of Judaism. The innovations of Enlightenment circles during the life of Mendelssohn were concentrated in the fields of education and language. On the linguistic level, the Maskilim rejected the Yiddish vernacular still spoken by most German Jews and proposed instead both pure High German and a revived Hebrew. Wessely and the authors published in Hameassef (the Meassfim) are considered by many to be the pioneers of modern Hebrew literature. The idea of reviving the Hebrew language as a tool of Enlightenment, like the work of Mendelssohn, would seem to imply confidence in the possibility of combining Western culture with a specifically Jewish creativity. Unlike writers in High German, writers in Hebrew depended on the continued existence of an audience possessed of Jewish knowledge. Some historians of the Berlin Haskala, notably Isaac Barzilay, have tried to distinguish between a relatively moderate Jewish Enlightenment in Hebrew and a more radical Enlightenment in German. Some historians writing in Hebrew distinguish between Maskilim writing in Hebrew and working for a revival of Jewish life and assimilated "deists" writing in German.26 Although there is quite a bit of evidence of differences between works written in Hebrew and those written in German, Barzilay's dichotomy seems too sharp. Much of the difference may be a distinction in audience rather than in authorship. This assumption is strengthened by the fact that several writers wrote in both languages, often in very different tones. The audience in Hebrew tended to be knowledgeable in Jewish sources, but not necessarily in German. They were therefore more likely to appreciate satires and plays on traditional Jewish texts; those reading German were probably more familiar with Western literature than with Jewish sources. Consequently it is not surprising that attacks on tradition in German tended to be more direct than in Hebrew. One of the traits that distinguished the moderate early stages of the Jewish Enlightenment from later stages was related to changed views of the role of the state. In the view of Mendelssohn, questions of belief, truth, and religion were not in the purview of the state. Many of the Enlightenment writers of the post-1786 period, influenced by the debate over political rights, abandoned this view. Instead they looked to the "tutelary state" as an educational institution that would help bring about the improvement of the Jews. The Jews would be expected to change to fit into society as directed by the state, and the state would work toward the moral and cultural improvement of its Jewish subjects. Views of this type were held by many of the more radical Jewish Enlightenment thinkers of the postMendelssohn period.27

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Although conflicts with the rabbis had been aroused by the appearance of Mendelssohn's translation of the Bible and Wessely's Divre Shalom Ve'emet, both Mendelssohn and Wessely exerted a moderating influence on the Haskala during the early 1780s. The passages at the end of Mendelssohn's Jerusalem calling on Jews to continue to observe the laws of the Torah show his awareness of the growth of groups more radical than himself as well as his desire to keep their radicalism in check. In the same year that Jerusalem appeared (1783), Wessely was asked by the young founders of Hameassef Tor his blessing and advice on their undertaking. While approving the project, Wessely gave advice designed to prevent radicalism. He told them that their work should be based on the fear of God, should avoid mentioning the names of Roman and Greek deities, avoid erotic writing and love poetry, and abstain from satire. He also advised them not merely to cultivate the Hebrew language but also to draw from the wisdom of the Torah (including Mishna and Talmud). This very conservative advice was heeded during the first year or so of the publication, but was then progressively abandoned.28 The relative harmony between traditionalists and supporters of Enlightenment that was characteristic of Mendelssohn's lifetime would soon turn into hostility and mutual recrimination. Some of the projects begun during the time of Mendelssohn were continued after his death. These projects had the general aim of acquainting broad sections of the Jewish community with Jewish classics, which had been neglected in the exclusive interest of medieval Ashkenazic Jewry in Talmud, mysticism, and law. The majority of these works were printed in Hebrew script under the auspices of the Jiidische Freischule. Some of the works continued to bear the moderate stamp of Mendelssohnian views, while others turned into more radical channels. Although Mendelssohn's translation of the Pentateuch appeared in its entirety by 1783, the translation and commentary (Biur) on the other books of the Hebrew Bible continued to come out for a long time after his death under the auspices of his former colleagues. Even spokesmen for quite radical positions such as David Friedlander, Aron Wolfsohn, and Herz Homberg worked on this project, which by its nature did not allow for very radical expression.29 Another ongoing project for educating the Jewish public was the reissuing of medieval Jewish philosophic works. This project was directed by Isaac Satanov. Among the works that were issued were Maimonides' Guide for the Perplexed, Sa'adia Gaon's Emunot ve-De'ot (1789), and Yehuda Halevy's Sefer Hakuzari (1795). Even the publication of these clearly "orthodox" works helped favor the Haskala, since it broadened the range of Jewish texts available. Satanov used the occasion to issue other works, some authentic, some pseudoepigraphic, that were less obviously in the Jewish tradition. Satanov issued a Hebrew version of Aristotle's Ethics with his own commentary (Sefer Hamidot) (1790) as well as the racy medieval Machberot of Immanuel of Rome. Satanov also issued a huge number of works that appeared to be ancient but that were in fact his own productions and showed Enlightenment influences. Among these were Mishle Asaf (1789), which purported to be a book of Biblical wisdom literature with a commentary by Satanov. Satanov also issued a work called Zohar Chibura Tinyana (1783), which claimed to be a recently found continuation of the Zohar, the chief book of the Kabbala.30

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Hameassef was another project that continued work begun before the death of Mendelssohn. Here there was a noticeable increase in the outspoken tone of criticism of Jewish tradition. Whereas the first volume contained no direct criticism of rabbinic Judaism, this began to change in the issues that appeared after Mendelssohn's death. A series of biting satires of the rabbis and their attitudes appeared as well as direct attacks on certain traditional practices. The first direct attack on tradition, which actually began in the last year of Mendelssohn's life, was on the seemingly minor issue of early burial. In 1785 and 1786 Hameassef printed several articles on the subject. Its chief editor, Isaac Euchel, obtained permission from Mendelssohn to reprint the correspondence dating back to 1772 between Mendelssohn and Rabbi Jacob Emden in which the philosopher had questioned the traditional practice of burial immediately after death. Mendelssohn had kept his opinion to himself and had not engaged in a public polemic on the subject. The editors of Hameassef now turned the issue into a crusade. In 1787 they published a supplement in German by Dr. Markus Herz (later translated into Hebrew) attacking the traditional practice on medical grounds with the claim that it sometimes resulted in the burial of people who were not really dead. This issue was a source of conflict between the traditionalist burial society of Berlin and pro-Enlightenment circles in the city. A considerable number of works on the subject are extant from the 1780s and 1790s.31 The attack on this seemingly minor custom actually implied calling into question the authority of all traditional practices. It also juxtaposed "modern" medical and scientific opinion against the seemingly antiquated views of the rabbis. In 1792 members of the newly founded Gesellschaft der Freunde, the association of Enlightened unmarried men, signed an agreement that they would personally not allow themselves to be buried until three days after death. Among the leaders in this campaign by the Gesellschaft were Isaac Euchel, editor oi Hameassef, Joseph Mendelssohn, the son of the deceased philosopher, and several physicians. The increased radicalism of Hameassef was revealed in other ways.32 In 178788, it issued Friedlander's "Sendschreiben an die deutsche Juden" as a supplement. This work defends Mendelssohn's Bible translation and attacks both the Yiddish language and the traditionalist translation published with the approval of rabbis in Prague. In 1789 the journal printed an article by Yehuda Jeiteles entitled "A fool believes anything." In the same year, it reported in detail about the French Revolution. Also in 1789 Hameassef began to serialize Isaac Euchels's epistolary fiction "Igrot Meshulam ben Uriyah Ha 'estemodai." This work, which bears some resemblance to Montesquieu's Persian Letters, purports to tell of a Jewish traveler from Aleppo to the West. Euchel uses his fiction to ridicule traditional obscurantism, and to advocate modern education and changes in religious practices. Stronger than Euchel's satiric work was another satiric fiction serialized in Hameassef between 1794 and 1797, Wolfsohn's "Siach Be'eretz Hachayim." This work was a trialogue in the afterworld between Moses Maimonides, Moses Mendelssohn, and an anonymous traditional rabbi (Ploni). In the work Maimonides identifies himself with Mendelssohn and rejects the rabbi and his ilk. Wolfsohn

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mocks pilpul (the casuistic study of Talmud) and rejects the Zohar. The traditional rabbi who strongly attacks Mendelssohn and his Bible translation is characterized as superstitious and a hater of proper grammatical language and of philosophical thought. Very strong invective is used against the anonymous rabbi.33 In the same period the biting satires of Saul Berlin (1740-1794) appeared in print. Some had been written at an earlier period during the controversy over Wessely's Divre Shalom Ve'emet and were not printed until after Berlin's death in 1794. Others appeared during his lifetime. Despite the fact that Berlin was the rabbi of Frankfurt an der Oder and the son of the chief rabbi of Berlin, he was extremely vigorous in his attacks on traditionalist rabbis. He engaged in especially strong assaults on Raphael Cohen, rabbi of Hamburg. His favorite weapon was the reduction of traditionalist attacks to absurdity by claiming to discover dangerous modernism or heresy in them. In the course of his attacks, Berlin ridicules many traditional Jewish customs. He also mocks the ahistorical methods of rabbinic interpretive styles. His equally radical pseudoepigraphic work, Besamim Rosh (1793), purported to be a collection of medieval responsa of Asher ben Yechiel and others discovered and commented on by Berlin. In fact the work contained a number of extremely liberal rulings in line with Haskala teachings that Berlin concocted.34 Writers in German were, if anything, even quicker to move to radicalism than writers of Hebrew.35 None of the writers in German seems more extreme than David Friedlander, in whose case there is an extremely well documented record of his move from relative moderation to extreme views. The period of radicalization was precisely the same as that of Friedlander's involvement in the struggle for amelioration of the political position of the Jews of Prussia. This would strengthen the impression also gained from the works of Sabbathia Wolff, Saul Ascher, and Lazarus Bendavid in 1792 and 1793 that involvement in the struggle for emancipation often brought people to more radical views. During his mentor's lifetime, Friedlander was considered to be closer to Mendelssohn than any other follower. Whatever his private views may have been during that time, he never publicly stated any radical religious views before the death of his teacher. Throughout his life, even in his most radical phase, Friedlander continued his deep respect for Moses Mendelssohn.36 This did not prevent him from pursuing steadily more radical views, however. David Friedlander's position against the observance of Jewish ritual became sharper and sharper throughout the 1780s and 1790s. Friedlander's printed works in 1786 still showed no evidence of his later radicalism.37 But as early as 1789 his correspondence with Meyer Eger shows him attacking Jewish folk religion. He states that "three quarters of the prayers [in the synagogue] are full of blasphemy and idolatry." All folk religion is false and "it does not matter to me whether you follow a Kamtschadalic, Tartar, Chinese or Chaldaic religion. Error is error." Only philosophic religion is true. Ten years later,38 Friedlander wrote a letter that mocks the idea of giving a boy a combination of a traditional and secular education, since the two are irreconcilable. He stated:

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Our "traditional laws" fit so little to our present times, customs and the freedoms we enjoy that, in my opinion a religious revolution will have to occur among the Jews within ten years.. . . Our rabbis are "thank God" without power or energy; and in ten years no one in Berlin will know what such a thing is as "Chometz, which has remained over Passover" or a "growth on the lung" and similar things in the hundreds and thousands. What will happen in ten years in Berlin will have to happen in fifteen in Glogau and in Breslau and in Konigsberg and in Hamburg and in Amsterdam.... Our rabbis live in the twelfth century and don't know and don't want to know what is going on.39

The rapidity of the change in Friedlander's public stance between 1786 and 1789 is noteworthy and fits with the growing radicalism of the Jewish Enlightenment in those years, fueled, it would seem, by the growing debate over political rights. The radical positions of some Jewish intellectuals in the 1790s are not the only indication of widespread rejection of Jewish ritual law after the death of Mendelssohn. Although scattered, there is evidence of a progressive drop-off in personal religious observance. Chodowiecki's statement in 1783 that only the poor Jews in Berlin observed the Sabbath and dietary laws has already been mentioned. Individual leaders of the Enlightenment are known to have abandoned practice of Jewish ceremonies. The reaction of the synagogue elders to Lazarus Bendavid's violations of Jewish ritual in the 1780s has also been mentioned previously.40 The rabbi of Berlin is said to have made a humorous statement referring to Isaac Euchel's eating of pork.41 It would seem from the minute book of the Gesellschaft der Freunde that meetings were held and minutes written down on the Sabbath even in the first year of the organization.42 The exact beginning of the phenomenon is impossible to date. In 1798 Wolff Davidson could write: "The Enlightened Jews, of whom there are a large number, especially in the Prussian lands, attend their businesses on Saturday just as much as on every other day. . . . In this matter much has changed in the last twenty years."43 This would tend to put the beginning of the development around 1780. Larger and larger numbers of the Berlin elite were abandoning personal ritual practice. Certainly it would be an exaggeration to state that there were not still large numbers of traditionalists, but they were losing their majority. The kosher meat tax list dated approximately 1814 shows only 211 listed as paying the tax as against at least 261 who paid no meat tax.44 These figures would seem to indicate that at the time only about half of the Jews of Berlin still observed kashrut.45 As the Jewish Enlightenment became more radical in the decade and a half after the death of Mendelssohn, it began both to frighten even its own advocates and to take a toll on some of its own original projects. One of the chief victims of the radicalization of the Enlightenment was the very revival of Hebrew as a literary language begun by Wessely, Mendelssohn, and the writers for Hameassef. One of the ironies of the position of the Hebrew writers was the fact that the more they succeeded in spreading general culture to the Jewish community, the more they undercut their own audience. In advocating the teaching of secular knowledge including the German language (as well as Hebrew), and by rejecting traditional Jewish educational methods, they soon found that the knowledge of the Hebrew

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language they were advocating was declining. The traditionalists did not read the works of "suspect" Enlightenment writers, and the modernists were turning more and more to works in German. For this reason, the heyday of literary creativity in Hebrew ended by the late 1790s. In 1797 Hameassef ceased publication; the number of subscribers had shrunk to a mere 120. When proposals were made for its revival around 1800, the founder of Hameassef, Isaac Euchel, stated with bitterness and resignation: "I am sad for you my friend, that you have brought in your hand a precious stone and there is none to seek i t . . . . Why have you waited so long? . . . The days of love have gone, the days of the covenant between me and the children of Israel are over; the age when the sprouts of wisdom were seen and the Hebrew language blossomed for praise and glory."46 As time went on ever more of the important works of the Jewish Enlightenment appeared in German. There are other signs of fear or despair among certain original advocates of the Enlightenment. In a few extreme cases former Maskilim turned against the movement and became outspoken traditionalists. Several such cases are known from the literature. Nachman Berlin left the city that gave him his name and went to Lissa in the Posen district. In his Et Ledaber (Breslau: 1819) he states that other Berlin Jews did likewise. Berlin's En Mishpat (Berlin: 1796) criticizes the Haskala. David Friesenhausen, another former follower of the Haskala, left for Unsdorf, Hungary, in 1796.47 Even many of those who continued to support the Enlightenment began to worry about what they called "false Enlightenment." This was true even of quite radical Enlightenment thinkers. The growing tendency toward high living, sexual license, interreligious love affairs, and conversions to Christianity began to frighten many Haskala writers. The clearest example of the attempt to distinguish between true and false Haskala and to head off radical trends were two very similar vernacular plays by Euchel and Wolfsohn written in the 1790s. Both Euchel's Reb Henoch oder was tut me damit and Wolfsohn's Leichtsinn and Frommelei (Frivolity and Hypocrisy)** deal with the same theme—the twin dangers of obscurantism and license. Both plays blame the ignorant traditionalists who fight against modern education and political reform for the fact that the younger generation is turning to love affairs with Christians, gambling, and high living. They set forth the Enlightenment and its sense of morality as the best guarantee against the excesses of the semi-educated among the young. Similar statements against aspects of the "false Enlightenment" that lead to immorality, extravagance, and conspicuous consumption are found in the writings of such other radical writers as Davidson and Friedlander. This distinction between true and "false" or "half" Enlightenment is also used by later Jewish historians describing the period.49 Although in general the Haskala moved in more and more radical directions, frightening even some of its own adherents, conservative tendencies did not totally die out. The continued publication of the Biur on various books of the Bible is one case in point. Another is the continued activity of Hartwig Wessely. His "Chikkur Hadiri" published in Hameassef in 1787-1788 defending Talmudic views on punishments after death is one example of continued traditionalism. Wessely's

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magnum opus, Shirei Tiferet, a long epic poem on the life of Moses written with a very traditional viewpoint, appeared in part in 1789 but was not published in its entirety until after Wessely's death.50 Although remnants of the conservative Haskala remained even in the early nineteenth century, by the last years of the eighteenth century, the whole enterprise of the Jewish Enlightenment seemed to be called into question. The regeneration of the Hebrew language dreamt of by the Meassfim had not taken place. The Berlin Hameassef had closed down. Mendelssohn's vision of a synthesis of Western culture and traditional Jewish religion had not found many followers. The attempts at improving Jewish political status did not seem to be bearing much fruit. The chief financial supporters of the Enlightenment were undergoing severe economic problems. It was no wonder that many leaders of the Haskala were despairing. It is in this context that one can place the desperate attempt of David Friedlander to find a place for Enlightened Jews in the Protestant church. Both the old Jewish elite and the Enlightened Jewish intellectuals seemed powerless to reform the bulk of the Jewish community. Since the program of the Haskala had failed, at least one could join a more Enlightened social group by a change in outward religious affiliation. It is noteworthy that the letter to Teller was published when it was (in 1799), at a particularly low point in the fortunes of the Jewish Enlightenment. It is also interesting that Friedlander recovered both his interest in the Jewish community and his energy to fight for its rights in the years following the political crisis of the French occupation of Berlin. By the time of Friedlander's letter to Teller, there was a certain anachronistic quality to his thought. Despite the radical conclusions he drew from Mendelssohn's ideas, Friedlander's ideas were based on those of his mentor's, which, in turn, were based on those of Leibniz and Wolff. Not only had Leibniz and Wolff found a definitive refutation in the Critique of Pure Reason of Immanuel Kant,51 but the whole Enlightenment philosophy, including even the critical rationalism of Kant, was being challenged by Romanticism. The 1790s were not happy years for the non-Jewish Enlightened circles in Berlin. The government of Friedrich Wilhelm II was not sympathetic to the Enlightenment in the way that Frederick II had been. The king and his chief minister, Johann Christoph von Woellner, showed an interest in mysticism (especially Rosicrucianism) and a suspicion of rationalism as potentially revolutionary. The censorship instituted by the government and the royal religious policy attempted to replace Enlightenment thinking with orthodoxy. Friedrich Nicolai, the last survivor of the great Berlin Enlightenment triumvirate of Lessing-Mendelssohn-Nicolai, fought in vain against the new Romantic school in literature. In his last years he became the butt of ridicule for Goethe and others of the post-Enlightenment school.52 It was at about the same time as Friedlander's letter to Teller that Friedrich Schleiermacher published his "Speeches on Religion to its Cultured Despisers," which rejected Enlightenment theology in favor of a religion that appealed to the emotional sense of the individual. The new Romantic school of thought, which stressed the emotions over reason and accused the Enlightenment of being shallow and arid, was very much on the

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rise in the last decade of the eighteenth and first decade of the nineteenth century. The new school had considerable influence on Berlin Jews as well. The influence of Romanticism was totally different from that of Enlightenment, however. Romanticism was expressed in the style of living and the intellectual discussions of certain circles of Berlin Jews much more than it was expressed in intellectual works in print. In contrast to the general world of German culture, Jewish authors continued to write almost exclusively in the Enlightenment vein. The leaders of modernized Jewry who directed its modern schools, wrote its textbooks of religion, edited its journals, and tried to define a new form of Judaism were, in the main, resolute rationalists. Even though few Jewish intellectuals adopted Romanticism as their mode of thought, the rise of the Romantic movement had considerable influence on the position of the Jewish Enlightenment. By 1800 the Enlightenment in Germany was no longer the intellectual Establishment. It had also lost its close connection with the ruling circles of Prussia. The awareness of the decline in influence of the Enlightenment in Prussia is bound to have been widespread among Jewish intellectuals, even if they did not go along with the new trends. Although they might ridicule the new irrationalist and emotional literature as nonsense, they were certainly aware that many educated people disagreed with them. They could no longer have the same easy confidence that the ways of the Enlightenment were the wave of the future. As a matter of fact, they now often found themselves defending the Enlightenment traditions against the new upstart movements. All of this is bound to have sapped some of the enthusiasm and confidence of Haskala thinkers in the ultimate triumph of their ideals. Although the Enlightenment remained the dominant ideology of modernist Jewish thinkers far longer than it did for non-Jews, Romanticism, too, had its effect on the Berlin Jewish community. The ideas of the Romantic movement affected the lifestyle and forms of sociability of Berlin Jews. Much of the sexual permissiveness in late eighteenth century Berlin, against which Enlightenment writers sometimes protested as "false" Enlightenment, was influenced by Romantic ideas of personal self-expression, free love, and a new role for women. Influences of Romanticism were not merely factors in the loosening of sexual mores in the Jewish community, however. They also played a great role in one of the most remarkable social phenomena of Berlin society between 1780 and 1806— the salons. It was in the salons with their free-wheeling conversation, mixing of different social and religious groups, and frequent love affairs, that members of the Jewish community became involved in the Romantic movement. Whereas the almost exclusively male writers of modern intellectual works in Hebrew or German continued to be dominated by the Enlightenment, the female-centered world of the "Jewish salons" was filled with the spirit of Romanticism. Although most of the Jewish members of the salons wrote little or nothing, they played a vital role in the social and conversational setting that nurtured so much of German Romanticism just before and after the year 1800.

9 The Salons

Together with the growing radicalism of the Jewish Enlightenment, there came into existence in Berlin a new informal "institution" based on Romantic principles quite different from those of the rationalist Enlightenment—the Jewish salon. The salons had a considerable intellectual and social influence, both by furthering the activities of the early Romantic movement in Germany and by bringing together social groups that had never before mixed together so intimately (nobles and commoners, Jews and Gentiles, men and women). Because of its combination of intellectual and social iconoclasm, the Jewish salon has been seen as a prototype of the general crisis of Berlin Jewish society of its time. The relationship between what occurred in the limited social group involved in the salons and the much broader circles affected by the crisis of Berlin Jewry is complex. Although the deeds of the talented and well-known women of the salon such as Rahel Varnhagen, Henriette Herz, and Dorothea Schlegel have found their place in German literary history, the salon's relationship to the wider events in Berlin Jewry was more that of a reflection than a direct influence. The crossreligious love affairs, emotionally motivated conversions, and the unconventional ideas of the few dozen Jewish habitues of the salon did not cause other Berlin Jews to do likewise. But these social phenomena occurred in an intellectual and social atmosphere in which such happenings were by no means rare. Outside the salons, too, many Berlin Jews broke all previous conventions by seeking romance outside of marriage and outside the Jewish community and by abandoning their ancestral religion for the religion of the majority. The salons have attracted attention both for the intellectual creativity that occurred within them and for the breaking of social barriers that some later observers have found liberating and others have found profoundly threatening. The salon has been the subject of numerous studies and popular descriptions. As a phenomenon the salons were unusual for a number of reasons: they brought together influential people from widely different social strata; they took place under the auspices of Jews; and they were led by women. The existence of the Berlin Jewish salons

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is even more remarkable because it occurred at such an early point in the history of Jewish acculturation in Germany. In addition, the free mixing of Jews and Gentiles, noblemen and commoners, men and women, found in the period of the salons, was rarely to be found in any later period in German history. The term salon was applied to the social and intellectual gatherings at the homes of Jewish women in Berlin only in retrospect. At the time the institution was referred to by many different terms such as ein offenes Haus (an open house), Theegesellschaft (tea society), Theetisch (tea table), dstetischer Thee (aesthetic tea), or Krdnzchen (social circle). Often all sorts of circumlocutions were used. Thus one "opened" one's home "to social intercourse." Often the salon guests were referred to by the term Hausfreund (friend of the family).1 The definition of what made a particular gathering a salon is often quite vague. One author's definition of a salon includes the following elements: it is grouped around a woman; there are no formal invitations but rather an open house to which regular guests and others come; it contains people of different social classes who socialize in an informal manner without fixed program; intellectual subjects are discussed or cultural performances are given; refreshments are secondary to conversation or musical or theater performances; and the salon has an influence beyond its own borders.2 In general, the guests in the salon were initiates who needed no special invitation. They could then introduce other guests of their own. Certain individuals, notably the Swedish diplomat Carl Gustav von Brinkmann, played a special role in introducing new persons to the salons. Before the mid-eighteenth century informal socialization between Jews and nonJews was virtually nonexistent. In the 1760s and 1770s a few Berlin Jews began to entertain non-Jewish guests in their homes. Notable among these was Moses Mendelssohn at whose home Jewish and Gentile intellectuals as well as members of the Berlin Jewish elite gathered for discussion. The refreshments were spartan; a well-known description talks of Fromet Mendelssohn counting out the almonds and hazelnuts to be served to her guests. Wealthy Jews such as the Itzigs, the Meyers, and the family of Levin Markus (Rahel Varnhagen's father) also entertained non-Jewish guests. By the 1790s many Jews seemed to be anxious to invite members of the non-Jewish elite to their homes for meals. In 1798 Wolff Davidson complained: "I am acquainted with Jews who would pay thousands to have the honor of having a count eating at their home. I know women who sacrificed everything to be together with a baron in a theater box [Loge]."3 By that time many Jews in Berlin had stopped observing the religious dietary laws. Literary sources speak of Jews dining at restaurants with their non-Jewish friends.4 There were also reading societies that met in the homes of various people (both Jewish and nonJewish, male and female) in which intellectual subjects were discussed.5 Historians generally agree that the first Jewish salon in Berlin took place at the home of Henriette Herz (1764-1847) and her husband, Dr. Markus Herz. At the time of their marriage, in 1779, Markus was already thirty-two years old, and his wife was a mere fifteen. Dr. Herz, a leading physician and Kantian philosopher, held scientific lectures and demonstrations in his home. Many distinguished Berliners, including members of the royal family, attended. Eventually Henriette developed her own separate social circle, which differed from her husband's gath-

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erings in a number of ways. Henrietta herself stated, "Through his intellect and as a famous doctor, Herz attracted people, and I attracted them through my beauty and through the understanding I had for all kinds of scholarship." Johann Gottfried Schadow speaks of simultaneous gatherings, one of scholars discussing science and reason with Markus Herz amidst thick tobacco smoke, while at the same time "in the salon of the lady of the house" younger men dedicated to German literature [Dichtkunst] discussed, recited, and criticized new works.6 One need not assume that the two circles were entirely separate, since several persons are known to have been part of both. Henriette Herz's salon began at least by the early 1780s and continued in full swing until the death of her husband in 1803. Thereafter, in part because of the decline of her financial circumstances, her social activities were curtailed, ending almost completely with the French occupation of Berlin in 1806. Henriette Herz's salon played an important role in the social and intellectual life of Berlin. She encouraged the work of the Berlin Protestant theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher, and her salon was an important meeting place for followers of the early Romantic movement in Germany. Perhaps even more influential in intellectual life than Henriette Herz was Rahel Levin (1771-1833), the later wife of the author and diplomat Karl August Varnhagen von Ense. Whereas Herz's influence consisted mainly in encouraging the work of others and in hosting their gatherings, Rahel Varnhagen played a much more active role in the intellectual "work" of the salons. Her conversation and original ideas were important attractions for her salon; they were later immortalized by her husband in various publications. Unlike Herz, and indeed unlike almost all other salonieres, Rahel Levin7 was unmarried during the peak years of her salon (1790s to 1806). Although she came from a wealthy family, her salon was anything but luxurious. She prided herself on the naturalness and simplicity of her gatherings, which she referred to as gatherings in her attic (Dachstube).s Like Herz's salon, Levin-Varnhagen's gatherings were centers of the Romantic movement. In 1814, several years after her "first salon" came to an end, Rahel Levin converted to Christianity and married Varnhagen. After 1819 she began her "second salon," which continued intermittently for more than a decade but had less intellectual influence than the first. Other Jewish women in Berlin are described as having held salons. Noteworthy among these were Sara Levy, Baroness Sara von Grotthuss, Philippine Cohen, and Amalie Beer. Sara Levy was a daughter of Daniel Itzig who married the banker Samuel Salomon Levy in 1783. Unlike many of the other salonieres, Sara Levy (1761-1854) remained a loyal member of the Jewish community and a financial supporter of Enlightenment and reform Jewish causes (though many of her guests were adherents of Romanticism). Her salon began around 1800 and she continued holding social gatherings almost to the end of her long life. Levy was very interested in music; besides being an accomplished amateur musician, she was acquainted with many leading musicians of her day. Levy's two sisters, Fanny von Arnstein and Cacilie von Eskeles, were hostesses of the leading Viennese salons at the time of the Congress of Vienna.9 Sara von Grotthuss (1763-1828) converted to Christianity and married her noble-

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man husband in 1797. Her salon, which lasted from her marriage until 1806, was a literary one and she was a frequent correspondent of Goethe. Philippine Cohen's brief period as a hostess of social gatherings that resembled salons (1800-1803) is described in Varnhagen von Ense's memoirs. Varnhagen was a tutor for the wealthy Cohen family until 1803, when the family business went bankrupt and Ernst (Ephraim) Cohen had to flee. The Cohens had converted to Christianity in 1800.10 Amalie Beer (1767-1854) was more similar to Sara Levy than she was to the other Jewish salonieres. Like Levy she was the daughter of one of the wealthiest Jews in Berlin (Liepmann Meyer Wulff) and like Levy she remained a committed Jew. Beer's husband, Jacob Herz Beer, whom she married in 1788, was one of the lay leaders of the religious reform movement in Berlin. The early reformed temple met in the Beer mansion on Spandauerstrasse. Amalie Beer, like Sara Levy, was an important financial supporter of reform Jewish causes. Several of Amalie and Jacob Beer's sons, who were known for their close relationship with the matriarch of the family, became famous, most notably Giacomo Meyerbeer, the composer, and Michael Beer, the author. Beer's salon, which was devoted mainly to musical interests, was most active between 1820 and 1845, quite a bit after the other Jewish salons. Another salon of the 1820s to the 1840s was held in the home of Fanny Hensel, the sister of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy.11 Several other persons are listed by some authors as salonieres, most notably Brendel (Dorothea) Mendelssohn, Marianne von Eybenberg (sister of von Grotthuss), and Regina Frohberg, though other authors deny that they had independent salons. There were other Jewish women who did not host their own salons but were in attendance at several salons and can be considered part of the salon circles.12 In fact the circles of the Jewish salonieres (with the possible exception of Amalie Beer) really formed a single social set. Many of the same guests attended the salons of several of the hostesses and many of the Jewish salon women also attended the same salons. Salonieres also attended each other's salons.13 Jewish women did not have the only salons in Berlin in the period before 1806, but theirs were the most prominent and influential. Among the salons led by nonJewish women in the period before 1806, one can mention those of Henriette von Crayen (salon dates: 1805-1830), Dorothea Duchess of Kurland (1803-1809), Wilhelmine Countess of Lichtenau (mistress of King Friedrich Wilhelm II) (1780s and 1790s), Luise Princess Radziwill (1796-1815), Sophie Sander (1800-1810), and Friederike Helene Unger (late eighteenth century). Several of the Jewish salon women also attended the salons of the Duchess of Kurland, and to a lesser extent those of von Crayen and Sander.14 Almost all the Jewish salon women came out of the same milieu. They were mostly the daughters of very wealthy Jewish bankers or merchants, far richer than the average Berlin Jew.15 They were all either self-educated or had received private instruction. Many of them eventually divorced their first Jewish husbands and married Christians. The majority of the salonieres eventually converted to Christianity.16 Both in their intellectual activities and in their eventual conversions to Christianity the women of the salon circles were not typical of the Jewish community. Although many Jewish women did convert during the same period as the salon women, their rate of conversion was not nearly as large as that in the salons.

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The guests at the salons came from many different walks of life. Although Jewish women played a leading role as hostesses in the salons, they made up only a small part of the total population of "salon society." Men of Jewish origin, frequently already baptized, were also to be found among the guests, but they were less numerous and played a much smaller role than Jewish women. In most cases the Jewish men were intellectuals or government officials.17 Among the non-Jewish participants in the salons, persons with titles of nobility were both prominent and influential, as were intellectuals and government officials. According to Deborah Hertz, 26 of the 100 participants in the salons were noblemen and 12 were noblewomen.18 The aristocrats included a number of diplomats, some of them foreigners, other high government officials, and even Prince Louis Ferdinand, a member of the royal family. Most, though not all, government officials in the salons were noblemen or later were ennobled. Among the prominent officials in Jewish salon circles were Count Alexander Dohna, interior minister of Prussia; Christian Wilhelm von Dohm, chief theoretician of Jewish emancipation; and the visiting Frenchmen, Count Honore de Mirabeau, the later revolutionary leader. Leaders in the intellectual life of Berlin not only attended the salons but also played a leading role in them and became intimate friends of the salonieres. Among those at the center of the salon circle were such influential intellectuals as the Humboldts (Alexander, the scientist, and his brother, Wilhelm, the philosopher and statesman), the writers August Wilhelm and Friedrich von Schlegel, Adalbert von Chamisso, and Karl August Varnhagen von Ense, the sculptor Johann Gottfried Schadow, and the theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher. Other important Romantic writers were originally part of the Jewish salon circle, although they later turned against it, among them Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano. Still other famous intellectuals attended the Berlin salons less commonly or, like such famous persons as Madame de Stael, Friedrich Schiller, or Jean Paul [Richter], only paid one documented visit to the salons. A considerable portion of the early Romantic movement in Germany was associated in one way or another with the Berlin salons. The salons were not only the meeting place of formerly separated classes; they were also a place for the meeting of the sexes. The atmosphere was one of easygoing and informal conversation and socializing in which both men and women could participate. But interaction between the sexes in the salon was not restricted to conversation. Several love affairs seem to have begun with a meeting in a salon. Most notorious was the case of Mendelssohn's daughter Brendel, who met Friedrich Schlegel at Henriette Herz's salon and left her husband for him. Schlegel's graphic novel Lucinde, with its defense of free love, is usually said to be modeled on his relationship with Brendel Mendelssohn-Veit. The affair fit in with the views of Schlegel and other salon men that "almost all marriages are just concubinage."19 Several other Jewish salonieres became engaged to men they met through their salon contacts, though often these engagements were broken before a wedding could take place.20 Some of the relationships seem to have been more platonic in nature. The Tugendbund (association for virtue) was a platonic society of men and women of the salon circle started in 1787. It included Henriette Herz, the Humboldt brothers,

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Wilhelm von Humboldt's later wife, Caroline von Dacheroden, Dorothea Veit, and others. Members addressed each other by the familiar du, hugged and embraced each other, and promised to help reach moral perfection.21 Later critics looking back on the salons were often extremely censorious of the easygoing relationships between men and women there. Some of the critics were anti-Semites intent on proving that the salons were a vicious conspiracy by the Jews to ensnare innocent "Aryan" intellectuals and statesmen. These antiSemitic writers saw the salons as an underhanded way by which the Jews increased their cultural and political influence. Other critics were Jewish historians shocked by the interreligious love affairs and the conversions within the salon group. None was more censorious than Heinrich Graetz. He refers to the Herz salon as a "Midianite tent" (an allusion to a Biblical incident in which the Midianite women enticed the Israelites to immorality and idolatry). "Here a number of young women assembled whose husbands were kept away on business. The most prominent male member of this circle was Frederick von Gentz, the embodiment of selfishness, licentiousness, vice and depravity, whose chief occupation was the betrayal of women." Even Henriette Herz's clearly platonic relationships are criticized. She is described as having "secretly maintained an amatory correspondence behind her husband's back" with Wilhelm von Humboldt; her relationship to Schleiermacher is called "ambiguous" by Graetz. In conclusion Graetz states, "These talented but sinful Jewish women did Judaism a service by becoming Christians."22 Other Jewish critics spoke about the Halbbildung (semieducation) of the women who turned away from Judaism. Jewish critics seem much more disturbed by the love affairs and conversions associated with the salons than by their intellectual influence. The activities of the Berlin Jewish salons did not only attract the hostility of later critics. In their own day, too, they were the subject of harsh attacks. Sometimes even those who themselves participated in salon life were not above criticism of their hostesses and of Jews in general in their private correspondence.23 Some of the participants in the salons also expressed anti-Jewish views in print during the time of their attendance at the salons (e.g. the philosopher Johann Gottlieb Fichte). The anti-Semitic pamphlets of Karl Wilhelm Grattenauer of 1803-1805 attacked the claim of educated Jews to elegance, good manners, and culture in addition to the more traditional anti-Jewish canards. Certain passages seem to be directed specifically against the Jewish salons.24 The French occupation of Berlin in October 1806 is seen by many historians as an important turning point in both Prussian history and in the relationships between German Jews and Christians. In the wave of patriotism that swept Prussia after the occupation, many people rejected French culture and anything associated with it. There was an increased emphasis on the folk characteristics that set the German people apart from all others. Some of the patriots questioned whether Jews could be part of the German nation, while others resented the Enlightened, proFrench or cosmopolitan views of some Jews. There seems to have been a backlash against the free mixing between Jews and Christians. In addition, the view that a woman's role was to raise a wholesome German family and to inculcate virtue as

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part of the reawakening of Germany became more prominent. The freedom, childlessness, and easy virtue of the Jewish salonieres were clearly irreconcilable with such views. Some of the Jewish salons came to an end around 1806 because the financial situation of their hostesses made them no longer able to entertain. In addition many of the salon guests had left Berlin during the occupation. When the occupation ended, in 1808, few of the Jewish salons returned to their old prominence. In general they were replaced either by salons headed by non-Jews or by male-oriented clubs and gatherings. Several incidents in 1811 illustrate the level of hostility to the Jewish salons in postoccupation Berlin, even among their former supporters. In one incident Achim von Arnim, the Romantic writer, came to pick up his wife, Bettina, at Sara Levy's home where a salon gathering was taking place. His ostentatious wearing of street clothes was a sign that he did not wish to be mistaken for a formally dressed salon participant. One of Levy's nephews perceived this as an insult and challenged von Arnim to a duel, which he refused on the grounds that Jews had no honor to defend.25 Later in the same year, von Arnim and his brother-in-law Clemens Brentano issued invitations to a number of prominent Berlin intellectuals to join a christlich-teutsche Tischgesellschaft (Christian German eating club). Jews (even converted Jews) and women were specifically excluded from participation by the Tischgesellschaft's by-laws. Some of the intellectual activities in the Tischgesellschaft were explicitly anti-Jewish.26 The hostility of the post-1806 era did not put an end to all Jewish salon activity. However, it did mark the end of the predominance of Jewish women within the elite circles of intellectual and social life in Berlin. Although she was later to preside over a new salon, Rahel Varnhagen still felt impelled to state "our ship went under in 1806, the ship containing the loveliest pleasures, the loveliest goods of life."27 The salons led by prominent Jewish women had a heyday of only some twentyfive years. During that time a small group of the elite of Berlin intellectual society had socialized and exchanged views under Jewish auspices. The hostesses, insofar as they had not yet converted, were still subject to a host of discriminatory laws, yet they were able to achieve prominent positions in social life. Ironically the same period of renewed Prussian patriotism and reform that resulted in the political emancipation of the Jews of Prussia in 1812 also created an atmosphere that closed the social opportunities exemplified by the salons.28 For a period of some twenty-five years, easy virtue, intellectual creativity, and open sociability had been available for the elite Jewish women of Berlin. This easygoing era was a challenge both to traditional anti-Jewish feelings and to the traditional cohesiveness of the Jewish community. The influence of the salon was both a positive one in furthering Romantic intellectual views and providing a model for an open society, and a negative one that frightened both Gentiles afraid of Jewish influence and social mixing and Jews afraid of a breakdown in Jewish values and cohesiveness. Its story would be remembered as a model or a warning long after its participants had passed from the scene.

10 The Crisis: Illegitimacy and Family Breakdown

Much of what happened in the rarefied atmosphere of the salons was played out in different form in Berlin Jewish society as a whole. The sexual freedom and eventual conversions that were common in the salons have often been described in great detail by historians. Such events as the romantic liaison, divorce, and conversion of the saloniere Dorothea Veit, Moses Mendelssohn's daughter, have been used by many writers as a metaphor for the crisis of Berlin Jewry that took place in the years after Mendelssohn's death. The fact that four of Mendelssohn's six children eventually became Christians has also been used by many writers as a way to symbolize the failure of Mendelssohn's message and the upheaval in Berlin Jewry in the succeeding generation.1 An analysis of events in the Berlin Jewish community as a whole for the generations after Mendelssohn's death demonstrates that the well-known affairs and conversions in the Berlin Jewish elite were repeated (if on a somewhat reduced scale) in many segments of Berlin Jewry. The percentages of conversions and extramarital affairs may have been less in the aggregate of Berlin Jewry than they were among the "rich and famous," but conversion and free sexuality were far more common in Berlin Jewry as a whole in the generations after Mendelssohn than they had ever been before. A description of the personal relationships among the members of the salons does not necessarily tell us what was going on in more modest sections of the Berlin Jewish community. The differences between the marriage, divorce, conversion, and extramarital affair patterns of the salonieres and the bulk of Berlin Jewry can be described in detail. Still the differences in degree pale before the profound similarity in the overall ethos of Berlin Jewry—indeed of Berlin society at large—during the last decades of the eighteenth century and the first decades of the nineteenth. The many changes that had taken place in Berlin Jewry in the decades after the Seven Years War had placed a considerable strain on the formerly stable Jew-

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ish family. In part it was a matter of generational conflict between an older traditional generation and their offspring, who often differed from them in religious practice, spoken language, manners, and values. The cultural estrangement between parents and children may have been one of the factors that led younger members of the Jewish community to turn away from traditional patterns of family life as well. Especially in the years between 1785 and 1806, previously rare divorce, illegitimacy, and interreligious love affairs became common. Conversion to Christianity, sometimes with a rupture of personal ties to other family members, was frequently intertwined with this abandonment of traditional patterns.

Increasing Divorce The Jewish religion had always permitted divorce and there were always some Jewish couples who availed themselves of this permission. Still, it would seem that divorce was rather rare within the Jewish community until the last quarter of the eighteenth century. This changed dramatically after about 1780. The total number of divorces went from only about four in the twenty years from 1760 to 1779 to a high of fourteen in the decade from 1800 to 1809. Only 2 percent of couples married in the 1760s eventually divorced, but among those married in the first decade of the nineteenth century the rate was 12 percent. Of those married between 1800 and 1804, fully 14 percent eventually divorced.2 This peak in the divorce rate was never reached again after 1810. It would seem, therefore, that at least with regard to divorce, the first decade of the nineteenth century marked the peak of the "crisis." The Jewish divorce rate in the first years of the nineteenth century was not only high compared with earlier Jewish rates in Berlin but also in comparison with non-Jewish rates. While a divorce rate of 12 percent to 14 percent does not seem very high by twentieth century standards, it was far higher than was usual in Germany during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.3 As in so many other things, it was the Berlin Jewish elite that "pioneered" marital breakups. Persons paying over 4 Taler in taxes (the top 15 percent of the Berlin Jewish tax lists) were close to one-half of all those divorced who had married in the period before 1789. This percentage fell sharply thereafter.4 What had begun as a soaring divorce rate among the very rich5 soon spread to other strata of Jewish society. Certain wealthy families seemed especially susceptible to divorce. There were four pairs of siblings who divorced, most of them from very rich families.6 High rates of divorce were associated not only with wealth but also with conversion, especially during the early period. In the case of twelve of the divorcing couples, one or both of the spouses converted to Christianity. In about one-half of these cases, the conversion of one of the spouses caused the spouse who remained Jewish to seek a divorce from the converting spouse. This was the scenario in most of the conversion-related divorces of the late eighteenth century. In at least five cases, however, most of them in the early nineteenth century, the relationship between conversion and divorce was more complex, since both spouses converted. Some of these divorces began like those of the earlier period,

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113

with one spouse converting and the other remaining Jewish. After the divorce, however, the spouse who had held out changed his or her mind and converted as well. In most of the cases of family breakup related to conversion, the converting spouse went on to marry a Christian. In some cases, especially those involving women, the second spouse was a noble. Although the cases of women divorcing and marrying Christians are the most famous, at least as many cases of men converting and leaving their Jewish spouses can be found.7 Altogether over one of every four Jewish divorces was associated with conversion.

Out-of-Wedlock Births The same period that saw the peak in marital breakup was also marked by an increase in prenuptial pregnancies. Although the percentage of pregnant brides was never very high in the Berlin Jewish community, it is significant that all but one of the six or seven marriages of pregnant brides took place between 1801 and 1806—the peak years for divorce as well. Far from being restricted to socially marginal families, prenuptial pregnancies seem to have occurred disproportionately in wealthy families. In a number of cases, the parents or their children eventually converted to Christianity.8 Virtually all these couples were also later listed as affiliates of the reformed religious service. Even more widespread than prenuptial pregnancies and divorce was the tremendous increase in out-of-wedlock births in Berlin Jewry. The chief period of high illegitimacy, like the other phenomena of family breakdown, was the last two decades of the eighteenth century and the first six years of the nineteenth. This period has also been noted by historians of German society as a period of freer sexual mores than the periods that preceded and succeeded it. "Contemporary writers constantly complained that morals in Berlin had reached a low ebb in the last decades of the eighteenth century. Nineteenth century historians tended to agree and were relieved that this hedonistic era was short lived."9 Berlin with its many unmarried soldiers in its huge garrison and its many prostitutes was considered a center of easy sexuality. This was especially true during the reign of King Friedrich Wilhelm II (1786-1797), who was known for his mistresses and love affairs. The iconoclastic attitudes toward marriage of some early Romantic writers may have also been a contributing factor. There is considerable evidence, both literary and statistical, that Berlin Jews were much influenced by the general libertinage of the period. Several literary works written by representatives of the Jewish Enlightenment in Berlin during the 1790s (the peak of the period of sexual permissiveness among the Jews) make reference to the phenomenon. The theme of sexual liaisons between young Jewish women and Christian noblemen plays a prominent role in the vernacular plays of Isaac Euchel and Aaron Wolfsohn.10 Wolff Davidson's Uber die burgerliche Verbesserung der Juden (1798) deals with the same sexual theme in its discussion of the oppressed situation of the Jews. Davidson argues that Jews were so anxious for acceptance that they allowed the

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THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

seduction of members of their families. "The only thing which gives them some respect and which might convince at least a tolerant house guest [Hausfreund] to seduce the wife or daughter of a Jew, or to drink up his wine with him, is wealth."11 Statistical evidence shows that the atmosphere of permissiveness described in literature, like that just mentioned, was, in fact, not at all uncommon. Jewish rates of illegitimacy in the period were high and comparable to the overall illegitimacy rate for Berlin from 1816 to 1820 of 18.3 percent.12

Illegitimacy and Interreligious Affairs Even more than was the case with divorce, there was a close relationship between illegitimacy and conversion. In fact, much of the early rise in conversion among Berlin Jews that was detected by Deborah Hertz in her study of the Nazi indexes of Jewish baptisms (Judenkartei)13 can be attributed directly to sexual liaisons between Jews and Christians outside of marriage. Illegitimate children of mixed Christian-Jewish couples were the majority or almost the majority of those listed in the Judenkartei for every year between 1787 and 1805. Whereas the overall number of "Jewish baptisms" in the Judenkartei rose from nineteen in the years 1770-1774 to eighty-five in 1795-1799, the number of adults and teenagers (thirteen years old or above) rose only from fourteen (1770-1774) to twenty-three (1795-1799). Of those who were baptized before the age of thirteen in the years 1770-1799, over 83 percent were born out of wedlock, and the vast majority of those remaining were the children of recently baptized Jews. No more than four (and perhaps only one) of the 149 babies and children listed in the Judenkartei for 1770-1799 were legitimate children of parents who were unbaptized Jews at the time of their birth. Despite the fact that the literary sources almost always emphasize the love affairs of Jewish women rather than Jewish men, illegitimate children of mixed parentage born during the peak of the period of illegitimacy were more likely to be the children of Jewish men and Christian women than the children of Christian men and Jewish women.14 In a considerable number of cases,15 the illegitimate children were born to mixed couples who shared a long-term relationship out of wedlock. Some couples had many children together out of wedlock; one couple had as many as eleven! Frequently these couples later married and thereby legitimized their offspring. It would seem that in the 1780s and 1790s the vast majority of mixed couples did not marry, perhaps because the Jewish partner considered conversion more heinous than having illegitimate children. This pattern changed somewhat after 1805. Eleven parents of illegitimate children converted to Christianity before 1800 (mainly in the 1790s), while thirty did so between 1800 and 1830. This increase in the number of conversions to legitimize children was far more rapid than the total increase in the number of illegitimate children.16 There were considerable social differences between the liaisons involving Jewish men and those involving Jewish women. Quite a few of the Jewish fathers were members of wealthy and leading Jewish families. Some were prominent in the

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Enlightenment club Gesellschaft der Freunde,17 others were merchants (Kaufleute) or doctors, though some were less prestigious bookkeepers and traders (Handelsleute). The Christian mothers' backgrounds are described less often but they included all levels of society, including noblewomen,18 though the most frequent backgrounds were daughters of craftsmen, soldiers, and merchants. In cases involving Jewish women and Christian men, on the other hand, the Christian fathers were generally of a more modest background. They were often craftsmen, including tailors, shoemakers, bakers, and masons. Quite a few of the fathers were soldiers.19 Some, however, were more prestigious, like Geheimer Secretar Friedrich Wilhelm Hoffmeister and Kriegsrath Holz. Of the few Jewish mothers whose social background is known, some came from respectable merchant families, while others, not surprisingly, were servants.20 In most cases the parents of illegitimate children were both unmarried, although there are a few examples of mixed couples in which the father was a married man. Most prominent of these married men with a mistress was Dr. Joseph Fliess, the very wealthy son-in-law of the chief Jewish elder Daniel Itzig. Fliess had at least five children with his mistress, Louisa Luza, while he was still married to Itzig's daughter. Unlike almost all the other parents of illegitimate children, Fliess and Luza used false names in the birth registers. After his first wife's death, Fliess converted to Protestantism and married his mistress. Children born to extramarital affairs between married women and men other than their husbands are much more difficult to detect, since the children might easily be disguised as children of the husband. There is only one undoubted case of such an illegitimate child born to a Jewish woman separated from her husband.21 The interreligious love affairs that resulted in the birth of illegitimate children do not seem to have been the consequence of flings by very young people. The women involved tended in most cases to be quite mature persons near the usual marriage age and the men were certainly no younger. The fragmentary information that we have seems to indicate that most women who bore children out of wedlock had their first illegitimate child while in their twenties. Only a few were mere teenagers and a few were over thirty. Of the men, some began fathering children out of wedlock in their twenties, but several were a good deal older. In several cases Jewish men who were close to fifty years old fathered children out of wedlock.22 We do not know exactly whether the couples lived together or had other living arrangements. In several cases the illegitimate children were born in an orphanage, which leads us to suspect that they were not raised by their parents. In at least one case, the records state that the father agreed to support his child till age sixteen. In some cases couples with numerous children seem to have had a permanent residence, while in others they seem to have frequently changed addresses.23 The chief period in which there were large numbers of out-of-wedlock children of mixed couples was the years 1780 to 1805 (Table 4). The phenomenon was obvious enough to attract the attention of the Prussian government. In 1789, the regime issued a decree that illegitimate children born of relationships between Jews and Christians must be baptized no matter whether the Jewish parent was the father or the mother.

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TABLE 4.

Years

All* Persons Baptized

Babies Born out of Wedlock and Baptized in Berlin Babies Baptized {under age 2)

Illegitimatef Babies Baptized

Illegitimate as Percentage of all Baptized

Illegitimate as percentage of babies baptized

1770-74

19

4

3

15.8

75

1775-79

20

10

6

30.0

60

1780-84

39

20

15

38.5

75

1785-89

38

21

18

48.4

85.7

1790-94

52

30

29

55.8

96.7

1795-99

60

52

61.2

86.7

1800-04

85 96

65

48

50.0

73.8

1805-09

144

68

45

31.3

66.2

1810-14

179

69

31

17.3

44.9

1815-19

218

74

25

11.5

33.8

1820-24

234

71

19

9.0

29.6

1825-29

381

93

22

8.1

33.3

67

26

9

13.4

34.6

1830

"Listed in Judenkartei. Includes those who were Jewish only by Nazi criteria (e.g., children of converts) as well as children of Jewish fathers and Christian mothers not defined as Jewish by the Jewish community tPersons born out of wedlock who were baptized when adults are not included among the illegitimate in this table

After 1806, the year of the French occupation of Berlin, the numbers of such illegitimate children of mixed couples falls precipitously; the falloff after about 1815 is even sharper.24 It would seem that the wave of German nationalism brought about by the war with Napoleon, the Prussian reform period of 1806-1812 with its revulsion toward the failings of the previous decades, and the growth of antiJewish feelings in cultured circles all contributed to making liaisons between Jews and Christians less popular. As we have seen, 1806 is also the date conventionally given as the beginning of the decline of the Berlin Jewish salons.25

Out-of-Wedlock Births to Jewish Couples The decrease in out-of-wedlock births to mixed couples did not, however, immediately mean that extramarital affairs disappeared altogether in the Jewish community. In fact, we have evidence of considerable numbers of illegitimate children born to unmarried couples, both of whom were Jewish. Unfortunately the records of out-of-wedlock births in the Jewish community before 1812 are extremely fragmentary. Nevertheless, we do have considerable reason to believe that illegitimacy was fairly common in the first decade of the nineteenth century.26 The records after the Emancipation decree of 1812, on the other hand, are quite complete (Table 5). These indicate that a high illegitimacy rate lingered on in the early years after the Napoleonic wars and then fell rapidly. In the years

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117

1813-1815, thirty of the 222 children born to Jews in Berlin were out of wedlock (c. 14 percent). Fifteen more illegitimate children were among the 245 born between 1816 and 1818 (6 percent). Only thirty-six more illegitimate children were born in the Jewish community in the next twenty-two years (1819-1840), for an average of only about 2 percent.27 Unlike those involved in interreligious love affairs, who seem frequently to have come from well-to-do families, the parents of illegitimate children within the Jewish community usually came from quite modest backgrounds. The most typical occupations of Jewish fathers of Jewish illegitimate children were commercial employee (Handlungsdiener), journeyman tailor, worker, and dealer (Handelsmanri). Only very few prestigious men were listed—notably banker Markwardt, who was listed in 1818 as the father of a daughter by the servant Jette Abraham. The mothers of illegitimate Jewish children who had Jewish fathers seemed most commonly to have been maidservants.28 As with the mixed couples, there were quite a few cases in which unmarried Jewish couples had several children in a long-term relationship. Some of the couples later married.29 It is unlikely that many of the illegitimate children listed in the baptismal records were duplicated in the Jewish community records. Nevertheless the total illegitimacy rate is difficult to calculate because it is hard to find the exact denominator against which to measure. If we can assume approximately ten illegitimate children of mixed couples annually in the years around 1800 and approximately the same number (or slightly fewer) among Jewish births, we would then have approximately twenty such births a year. We know that in the years after 1813 there were some sixty to seventy Jewish births a year, though indications are that the number may have been somewhat smaller in the first years of the century. In the case of the mixed couples, however, we have the additional complication that many of the mothers were not Jewish arid therefore that only one-half or so of the illegitimate births could be counted among Jewish births. Uncertain as all the figures

TABLE 5.

Illegitimate Births of Children Registered as Jews Total Number of Jewish Births

Number of Illegitimate Births

Percentage Illegitimate

1813-15

222

30

14

1816-18

245

15

1819-21

268 240

3

6 1

Years

1822-24 1825-27 1828-30 1831-33 1834-36 1837-39

1840

258 192 187 190 252 189

5 9 4 2 1

2 4 2 1

9 4

4 2

1

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seem to be, they do indicate that some one-fifth to one-fourth of all children born to Jewish women in Berlin in the first years of the nineteenth century were born out of wedlock. Communal Reactions to Illegitimacy The Jewish community reacted to the rise in illegitimacy in various ways—some of them surprising. Virtually no mention is ever made of Jewish men and their relationships, but considerable criticism is given to the women's activities.30 In general, and somewhat surprisingly, the orthodox were more sympathetic to the plight of illegitimate chidren than were the supporters of the Enlightenment. In March 1809, the board of Jewish elders (which was dominated by Enlightenment supporters) sent a petition to the chief of police through its representatives David Friedlander and Ruben Gumpertz complaining that: Women pregnant out of wedlock, both maids working in local households, as well as outsiders who come here pregnant, are an extraordinary burden on the community and its charitable institutions. Therefore, as to the former, steps should be taken so that the communal treasury is not burdened with them, and as for the latter, such measures as would hinder their appearance in the city.31

In 1813 the matter of support for children born out of wedlock was a matter of dispute between the reformers (in this case again represented by the communal elders) and the orthodox (in the Talmud Torah society that gave subsidies to poor students). The Talmud Torah's leaders defended the recipients from the elders' demand for a list of names, saying that discretion was needed since the recipients included "children of unknown fathers who must be considered of local origin and eligible for the charity of the community."32 David Friedlander was especially militant in his desire to cut the subsidy. The relative favor for the illegitimate among the orthodox may be part of their efforts to keep such children within the Jewish community, while the opposition by the elders seems to have been mainly for financial reasons. Factors Influencing Illegitimacy There can be little doubt that the rise in illegitimacy among Berlin Jews between 1780 and 1815 was much affected by the sexual behavior of the majority Christian population of Berlin. Not only did both groups seem to have a considerable rise in illegitimacy in this period but both also had a decline in illegitimacy thereafter. The similarity of the two populations is not in itself an explanation for Jewish sexual mores of the time for two reasons. First, the statistics for Jews and Christians are not exactly alike. At least for the period around 1815 the Jewish illegitimacy rate was somewhat lower than that of non-Jews. Although both showed a

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drop in illegitimacy, the Jewish rate dropped much more precipitously than the non-Jewish rate.33 The second consideration is perhaps more weighty. The very fact that Jews were heavily influenced by the sexual mores of their neighbors requires explanation. In many regions of Germany, Jewish and Christian illegitimacy rates were completely different. This was especially true in early nineteenth century Bavaria where peasant illegitimacy rates were extremely high, but Jewish rates were very low.34 The fact that Berlin Jews displayed sexual patterns similar to those of their neighbors in the period from 1780 to 1815 is a striking sign of the degree to which the acculturation process had affected the community. Even in such personal and private matters, the Jews of Berlin were affected by the surrounding culture in ways that had heretofore been foreign to them. The rise in illegitimacy and the smaller rise in prenuptial pregnancy in the last two decades of the eighteenth century and the first decade and a half of the nineteenth are indications of the rise of new attitudes toward sexuality and marriage, but they are only a part of the whole picture. The number of parents of out-ofwedlock children is undoubtedly smaller than the number of those involved in love affairs outside of marriage. It is significant, for instance, that despite the reputation for easy sexuality in the circles of the Jewish salons, there is not a single case of a saloniere bearing a child out of wedlock. One has the impression that, unlike servant women, women from prominent Jewish families were able to avoid pregnancy even when involved in extramarital affairs. The period of the high point of out-of-wedlock births was almost identical with the heyday of the Jewish salons in Berlin. For a period of about a generation, the traditional patterns of marriage and the family seemed to be seriously weakened among Berlin Jews. The new patterns of freer sexuality, more common marital breakup, and frequent romances across religious lines were relatively short-lived, however. They seem to have faded away almost as quickly as they had come. Just as the wide-open period of early Romanticism rather quickly turned into the very respectable Biedermeier period, so the period after the Napoleonic invasions seemed to mark the return to more conventional sexual patterns for Berlin Jews. The return to more traditional patterns of sexual morality did not mark the end of the crisis of Berlin Jewry. The wave of conversions to Christianity, which originally was closely tied to interreligious love affairs and baptisms of illegitimate children, lasted far beyond the end of the period of widespread free sexuality. In fact, the years after 1815, when illegitimacy was again becoming rare, saw an upswing rather than a decline in the surge of conversions. Although there was originally a close relationship between the "crisis of the Jewish family" and the "crisis of Jewish identity" as indicated by conversions to Christianity, the two patterns soon became independent of each other. Perhaps the decrease in illegitimacy and increase in conversions can even be seen as an escalation of the crisis. Couples who had formerly not married to legitimize their offspring because of a residual tie of the Jewish partner to Judaism were now less likely to shrink before the radical step of conversion and marriage outside of Judaism. In many cases the bonds that had kept Jews within their communities were now too weak to hold them there.

11 The Crisis—Conversion: Its Scope and Characteristics

Changes in cultural orientation and in general style of life not only affected the traditional structure of the Jewish family and its mores but also caused a large number of Berlin Jews to abandon their association with the Jewish community altogether. The growing tendency of Jews in Berlin to convert to Christianity has been noticed both by contemporaries of the event and by later historians. It seemed to some that the very continuation of the Jewish community was threatened. Some historians have referred to this phenomenon as a Taufepidemie (epidemic of baptisms), though others have questioned whether this term is appropriate.1 In any case the tendency to convert was viewed as a danger by many members of the Jewish community. The followers of the Jewish Enlightenment, perhaps even more than the traditionalists, were very concerned about the phenomenon of conversion. Even David Friedlander, despite his letter to Dean Teller in 1799, was a strong opponent of conversion to Christianity.2 The Taufepidemie is a commonplace in Jewish historiography of the Enlightenment, but it has only been in recent years that attempts have been made to get a picture of the magnitude of the wave of baptisms and of its precise chronological dimensions. Early work was done by Abraham Menes on official government records,3 but the first systematic attempt to quantify the main features of the Taufepidemie was undertaken in the 1980s by Deborah Hertz.4 Based on an analysis of the Judenkartei? Hertz gives a picture of the dimensions, chronology, gender distribution, and (in outline) the social distribution of the wave of baptisms. The overall number of Jews baptized in Berlin is extremely large (1,582 between 1770 and 1830 according to the Judenkartei), which would seem at first glance to confirm the opinion of those who see an epidemic of baptisms. Hertz's researches have demonstrated an initial increase in baptisms in the 1770s and then a steady and steep increase, culminating in a peak in the late 1820s. The initial increase of the period 1770 to 1800 is very much overshadowed by the increases in the thirty

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121

years that followed. The Judenkartei lists 249 persons for the last thirty years of the eighteenth century and over 1,200 for the first three decades of the nineteenth. As far as gender distribution is concerned, Hertz shows a predominance of women among the converts of the late eighteenth century, which gave way to a predominance of men in the nineteenth.6 She found that the vast majority of the converts she studied in the period 1770-1799 were children under the age of five and that, among adult converts, women made up 80 percent of those converted in their twenties, but only 20 percent of the converts over thirty.7 Hertz's very rough social analysis of the converts shows a predominance of middle-income converts in the 1770s and a larger number of upper-class converts in the 1780s and 1790s.8 Although Hertz gives the first definitive figures for the overall dimensions of the wave of baptisms and gives a partial age and gender distribution, there are still many gaps in her presentation. My own analysis will attempt to analyze the Judenkartei in greater depth to determine the proportion of Berlin Jewry that actually converted, to trace the main subcategories within the wave of conversions, to analyze its social makeup in greater depth, and to compare the information about the converts to what is generally known about Berlin Jewry at the time.

The Magnitude of the Wave of Conversions The overall impression given by the absolute numbers in the Judenkartei might seem to confirm the picture of Graetz and others of an epidemic of conversions that threatened the very basis of Berlin Jewry. A closer analysis, however, tends rather to confirm those like Abraham Menes who see the wave of baptisms as a more circumscribed phenomenon. First of all, the almost 1,600 baptisms in sixty years works out to an average of only about 27 per year. In the peak year (1829) the number was only 92. Second, the Judenkartei is constructed on Nazi racial definitions of who is a Jew. Over 400 of those listed in it were Jews only by Nazi definitions, since their mothers were not Jewish at the time they were born. In addition, as has been pointed out earlier, a large percentage of those listed for the years before 1806 were not converts in any simple sense but rather illegitimate children of mixed Christian-Jewish couples, baptized as infants. All of this substantially reduces the number of "conventional" participants in the wave of conversions. In addition, as will be seen, a large percentage of those listed in the Judenkartei were not native to Berlin. One of the difficulties in determining the impact of the conversions on Berlin Jewry is to determine the "denominator" by which to divide the number of those converting. Do we divide the total number of converts by the 3,500 Jews living in Berlin? Do we add the successive generations of Jews who would have lived in Berlin in the sixty-year period? Is the pool of converts in Berlin restricted to Berlin Jews or did the Judenkartei include many migrants? All these factors are difficult to determine. A rough estimate made by Hertz was that some 7 percent of Berlin Jews converted between 1770 and 1799.9 It turns out that we are not restricted to the Judenkartei alone in determining the percentage of Berlin Jews who converted. The list of Jews residing in Berlin

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THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

in 1812 contains notes indicating which of these individuals later converted. After supplementing this information from the Judenkartei and other sources, we were able to identify about 250 persons on the list (which contains a total of 3,493 names) who later converted. Although based on a totally different method of calculation, this figure is remarkably close to Hertz's estimate of 7 percent. This relatively low figure does not tell the whole story, however. Even if we take only the 250 on the 1812 list who were later baptized, we find certain cohorts (age groups) with a considerably higher conversion percentage. In general, conversion was a phenomenon of young people. Only a minuscule percentage of the converts were over the age of forty, and the majority of adult converts were in their twenties when baptized.10 Therefore, those who were already middle-aged or older in 1812 were far less likely to convert than were those born later. In fact, only 33 of the 880 Berlin Jews born between 1770 and 1784 converted (under 4 percent), compared to almost 7 percent of those born in the late 1780s, between 11 percent and 12 percent of those born in the 1790s, and 14.6 percent of those born in the first decade of the nineteenth century.11 We can thus see that conversion affected about one in seven of those in the generation born around or slightly after 1800.12 If we look at the number of families affected by baptism we arrive at an even higher percentage. Of those persons who were married in Berlin between 1759 and 1813 and who lived in the city for some time, about 20 percent either converted or had at least one child who converted. Of those married between 1790 and 1812, just over 25 percent converted or had a child who converted.13 This would mean that a substantial proportion of Jewish families in early nineteenth century Berlin were affected by conversion, but the trend was something less than an epidemic. Neither the Judenkartei nor the other lists of converts can be relied on for a full picture of the magnitude of conversions in Berlin. The majority of those listed in the Judenkartei between 1812 and 1830 were not listed as residents of Berlin in 1812, because they were later migrants to the city.14 They either came to Berlin specifically to convert or, more likely, migrated to Berlin some years before their conversions. A smaller number of individuals are listed in other lists of baptized Berlin Jews,15 but are not listed in the Judenkartei, either because they converted to Catholicism (a relatively uncommon occurrence), or because they left Berlin (generally for a small provincial town) to be converted. This latter type of case was more common, especially for prominent persons who converted before 1800 and wished to avoid a public scandal. Many of the most famous converts in Berlin were among those who were baptized outside of town and are thus missing from the Judenkartei.16

Three Different Waves of Conversion Although historians speak of a single wave of conversion, closer analysis shows that there were many subgroups among the converts. The wave of baptisms can be shown to have been divided into three fairly distinct chronological periods—the

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123

period before 1806, a somewhat overlapping period from 1800 to the early 1820s, and then the period from about 1822 to 1830. The First Wave, 1770-1805 The conversions of the first period, between 1770 and 1805, had many distinctive features. This was the epoch in which the initial increment in baptisms took place. Although the numbers of baptisms were higher later, the rate of increase in this early period was quite striking. In this period, unlike the later ones, women predominated among those listed in the Judenkartei. In addition, as we have already seen, the majority of those converted during this period (especially between 1787 and 1805) were infants born out of wedlock to mixed Jewish-Christian couples. Finally, in this early period there were considerable numbers of elite Jews who converted outside of Berlin and are not listed in the Judenkartei. Although the total number of conversions according to the Judenkartei between 1770 and 1804 was only 345 (less than 10 per year), the upward trend was a steep one. In the five years from 1780 to 1785 there were as many baptisms listed as in the previous decade. The numbers in the 1790s were again almost double those of the 1780s. Although the numbers continued to rise steeply thereafter, the rate of increase slowed down.17 The majority of the increase in baptisms in this period was attributable to the baptism of illegitimate infant children. Such children made up just over half of all persons listed in the Judenkartei for the thirty-five years 1770 to 1804. If they are excluded from consideration, then the increase in baptisms from the early 1770s to the first five years of the nineteenth century is reduced from fivefold to two and three quarters times.18 Of those who were baptized in the last three decades of the eighteenth century who were not out-of-wedlock babies, the overwhelming majority were women. In fact, for the years 1770 to 1789, women outnumbered men among adult converts three to one. Women remained the majority but in decreasing proportions until after 1805.19 When it comes to the social class of the adults baptized during this period, there is a sharp difference between those baptized in Berlin and those baptized out of town. In general those baptized in Berlin were of rather modest backgrounds. The majority of the adults do not seem to have been born in Berlin. This was especially true of women.20 Several of them seem to have been baptized specifically to get married, and in a few cases to marry the parent of their illegitimate child. Those baptized outside of Berlin are totally different. They came from some of the wealthiest and most distinguished Berlin families. In many cases, they or their families were from the very highest reaches of the Berlin Jewish tax rolls.21 Almost all of them were either single or got divorced before their conversion. In almost all cases of conversion of married persons in these circles before 1800, only one of the spouses converted and this usually led to divorce. Of the Berlin Jewish men who were baptized outside of Berlin before 1805, several were ennobled. Of the women so baptized, probably the majority married noblemen.22

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The sharp dichotomy between those baptized in Berlin, most of whom were modest persons from outside the city, as against members of the elite who left Berlin to be baptized, shows that before 1800 (or in many cases 1805), baptism was something one took great pains to hide from one's family. It was certainly not completely respectable. In the case of married couples it generally led to divorce; in many other cases it led to estrangement from family and even disinheritance. Although cases of estrangement never completely disappeared, they very much lessened in the early nineteenth century. One of the bits of evidence for this is the growing number of Berlin Jews, and of whole families, who began to be baptized in the city in the years after 1799.

The Second Wave, 1800-1820 Although there were several causes celebres connected with pre-1800 conversions,23 the real perception of an overwhelming Taufepidemie began to be felt only in the years between 1800 and the passing of the Emancipation decree in 1812. One of the main reasons for the increased perception of a crisis of conversions was the fact that distinguished Berlin families began to convert en masse. Now conversions were not restricted to a few elite families but began to affect most of the elite families. Symbolically we can date the beginning of this new phase of the Taufepidemie to two cases in 1799. In one case, the six-month-old infant, Caroline Amalie Sophie Ernestine Wilhelmine Cohen, was baptized in a Berlin church. This was the first legitimate child of an unbaptized couple to be converted. Her parents, Ephraim and Philippine Cohen, were baptized a year later as the first couple converted together. A few months after the Cohen baby, Julius Eduard Hitzig was baptized in Wittenberg. His grandfather, Daniel Itzig, head of the Jewish community, had died only a few months earlier.24 Not a single married couple converted in Berlin before 1800. From 1800 until the end of the wave of baptisms, married couples contributed from 6 percent to 9 percent of all the converts listed in the Judenkartei. In addition, legitimate babies and children of unconverted Jews, who had hardly figured among the pre-1800 converts, now hovered between 7 percent and 11 percent of all converts. The rising frequency of family conversions after 1800 began to worry the leaders of the Jewish community. The most obvious manifestation of this concern was the petition to the Prussian government complaining of the increase in conversions sent by David Friedlander in January 1811.25 Many of the fifty names of recent converts listed there are of persons associated with the Berlin elite.26 As Friedlander mentioned in his petition, the conversion of Jewish heads of family was not only demoralizing to the Jewish community; it was also a drain on communal finances. Many of those converted in the first years of the nineteenth century were among the top taxpayers. A petition of July 1809 from the elders of the Jewish community lists twelve recently converted Jews who together contributed 2,140 Reichstaler annually to the community. If we add the converted children of an ill and aged banker (Martin Salomon Levy) who paid 700 Taler annually, we arrive at close to 10 percent of the total tax income of the Jewish community. Moreover, this list of converts is far from complete.27

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Although the feeling of danger from the conversions of elite families first became noticeable in the years immediately before the Emancipation decree of 1812, the decree itself did not put an end either to the conversion wave in general or to the conversions of families in particular. The number of overall conversions declined slightly and temporarily for about two years after the Emancipation decree but then began to climb steeply, far outstripping the pre-1812 numbers.28 Conversions of whole families continued at roughly the same rate from about 1800 till the end of the wave of baptisms after 1830. The conversions of families did not involve only parents converting together with their children. In many cases, parents converted their young children before their own conversions. There also seems to be considerable evidence that if one member of the family converted, his or her siblings, in-laws, or cousins were likely to do the same.29 The conversions in Berlin after 1800 differed from the earlier conversions not only in the appearance of more family conversions. There was also a drop in the percentage of converts who came from outside Berlin. In the first two decades of the nineteenth century, persons known to have come from outside Berlin were a minority of those listed as converts in the city. This was not true in the period 1770-1799, when at least five of every eight listed were from outside the city, nor was it true after 1820, when the percentage of out-of-towners again increased sharply.30 It would seem that the period 1800-1819 was one in which the embarrassment connected with conversion had disappeared for many of the converts. In fact one could even say that becoming a Christian was a kind of fashion among certain prominent Berlin Jewish families of the period. Other changes also indicate a change in the nature of conversions after 1800. A considerable percentage, often close to half, of the adult Jews who converted during the eighteenth century took typical "proselyte names" with a strongly Christian overtone, for instance, Christian Fiirchtegott Simon, Johann Christian Neumann, Christina Wilhelmine Leberecht, Christiane Wilhelmine Redlich, or Christiane Dankengott Ernstin. This was especially true of those who came from outside Berlin. After 1800 such names become much rarer—less than 4 percent of all cases after 1820. Instead of religious names the newly baptized after 1800 preferred names that indicated acculturation like Friedrich, Wilhelm, Anna, Elisabeth, Louise, and Carl. They frequently took the typical triple given names (like Carl Friedrich Wilhelm, or Dorothea Elisabeth Wilhelmine) common among Christians and rare among Jews. Converts either left their Jewish family names unchanged or adopted acculturated names like Franke, Ewald, Liman, Ebers, or Delmar. This change in naming practice is a clear indication of the changing motivation for conversion from religion to acculturation. After 1806 the percentage of those listed in the Judenkartei who were illegitimate children of mixed couples declined steadily. In the first five years of the century they were one-half of all those listed, but in the following five years this number fell to less than one-third, and in the following decade to one-sixth and less. Although the absolute number of illegitimate infants did not decline as quickly, its level in the 1810s and 1820s was approximately half the number during the peak period of 1795 to 1805 (See Table 4). In the years after 1800 (and especially after 1806 with the declining impor-

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tance of the baptism of illegitimate children), the predominance of women among the converts came to an end. It was soon replaced by a predominance of men, which became overwhelming in the 1820s.

The Third Wave, 1822-1830 The 1820s, especially the later 1820s, represented a third phase of the wave of conversions. During this period, a large proportion of the converts were men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-nine who were newcomers to Berlin. The proportion of male converts between eighteen and twenty-nine suddenly jumped between 1821 and 1822 from about a sixth to between a quarter and a third of all converts and remained high thereafter.31 Unlike the first two decades of the century, most of those baptized in Berlin in the 1820s had not been born there. This was especially true in the late 1820s. These migrants were mostly from the eastern provinces of Prussia, especially Silesia, Posen, and West Prussia. This distribution was in sharp contrast to the migrants of the pre-1800 period, a large proportion of whom came from South Germany or from the provinces near Berlin. Another difference from the earlier periods was the fact that the majority of the migrants of the 1820s from the eastern provinces were men.32 Besides their distinctive age patterns, migrant converts in the 1820s also had a distinctive occupational pattern. A significant number of them were in the professions, especially students and teachers. There had been virtually no students who converted before 1820, but in the 1820s there were at least two dozen, most of them from the eastern provinces. At the same time, such prestigious occupations as banking were much more common among native Berlin converts in the 1820s than among migrants.33 It would seem that this change in pattern in the 1820s is related to the worsening legal status of Prussian Jews in those years. In 1822 several legal enactments officially restricted the Emancipation granted in 1812. One regulation excluded Jews from the higher echelons of the army, while another restricted academic posts to Christians. This latter decree impelled several well-known Jews, among them Heinrich Heine and Eduard Gans, to convert for careerist reasons. It would seem that the decrees had a similar effect on many otherwise anonymous young men from the eastern provinces who converted after 1821.34 Such young men searching for academic and professional positions often converted for professional reasons. On a number of occasions, we find several unrelated young men from the provinces converting in the same church on the same day. This type of "mass conversion" was virtually unheard of before the 1820s.35

Conversion and Elite Status Two patterns were noticeable throughout the period of the conversions, although they exhibited some change over time. The first was the fact that conversions seemed to cluster in certain families more than others.36 The second is the fact that conversion affected wealthy Berlin Jews more than Berlin Jews of more mod-

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est means. This latter pattern is true of those converts who came from Berlin families, but it is almost impossible to determine how true it was of the many migrants who converted in the city. Among those converts who came from identifiable Berlin families, a disproportionate number came from wealthy families. This was especially true of those Berlin Jews who converted early, but became somewhat less true for those who converted after 1820. Of those who converted before 1800 only a few were from Berlin families but about half of the latter were from families in the upper 15 percent of the Berlin Jewish income scale (over 4 Taler in taxation). The proportion of such wealthy converts seems to have been even higher during the period from 1800 to 1812, when some two-thirds of identifiable Berlin-born converts came from such affluent families. For the period after 1820 the percentage of the very rich seems to fall to about half of its percentage before 1812.37 Here, as in so many other aspects of the Berlin crisis, the wealthy seem to have been the pioneers, but more modest families soon began to follow in their footsteps. The tendency for conversion to be more common near the top of the Berlin Jewish social pyramid than near the bottom is demonstrated not only with regard to wealth but also with regard to legal status and to occupational background. Persons with the highest legal status in the Berlin Jewish community—both those whose families had acquired General Privileges and those who benefited from the naturalization of the Itzig family—were much more likely to have converts in their family than other Berlin Jews. Of couples married before 1812 whose legal status was either naturalized or generally privileged, about one in eight later converted, and almost another third had at least one child who converted. Among those who had the status of regular protected Jews (Ordinarii), the most common legal status in Berlin, the percentage who later converted was under 3 percent, and only about one in nine had children who later converted. Among those with even lower legal status (Extraordinarii and Publique Bediente) the percentage of conversions was about the same as among Ordinarii and the percentage of children who converted was still lower.38 This fact seems paradoxical on the surface, especially if we assume that many of the converts changed religion precisely to improve their legal position. It would seem that those whose status had already been improved the most were the ones who left Judaism. The paradox is only apparent, however. Those who had acquired General Privileges and naturalization were those who were most anxious to improve their legal status and were also among the wealthiest Jews in Berlin. They had come a long way in their struggle to free themselves from the many restrictions that Jews were subject to. They were thus especially frustrated by the remaining restrictions as well as by the low status of Jewishness even without legal restrictions. Those with General Privileges were still subject to some residual restrictions on their activities. Even among the naturalized descendants of Daniel Itzig, those in the female line were well aware of the fact that their naturalization would run out after the third generation. For all these reasons, those with the fewest restrictions were also those with the least patience for any restrictions. One of the reasons that the "wave of conversions" seemed so much of a threat to Jewish survival was the fact that it not only affected the wealthy disproportion-

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ately but also was most common in the circles of the Jewish communal leadership. Many of the rich families in which conversion was widespread were families that had held communal offices. The fact that children and grandchildren of elders of the community were leaving Judaism was quite shocking to those concerned with the continuity of the community. Even more shocking were the several cases in which former communal officeholders themselves underwent conversion.39

Occupations of the Converts When it comes to the occupational distribution of the converts we have evidence not only about those residing in Berlin but also about those born outside Berlin who converted in the city. There are rather sharp contrasts between the natives and the migrants, as well as between both of these groups and the illegitimate children so often baptized in the years before 1806. Insofar as the illegitimate children had non-Jewish fathers, these were most commonly artisans—either master craftsmen or journeymen and apprentices. A smaller number were in commercial fields and an even smaller number in government service. Jewish fathers of illegitimate children who were baptized were, like most Berlin Jews, in commercial pursuits. The largest single group that can be identified were listed as merchants (Kaufmann), which usually implies a fairly prosperous business; only about a fourth as many fathers were listed as dealers (Handelsmann). However, a considerable proportion of the fathers were in subordinate commercial positions, especially bookkeepers. Among the more "ordinary" converts (that is those over the age of two), the distinction between natives and migrants is sharp. Little is known about the backgrounds of most adult converts before 1800 in Berlin. As for those baptized after 1800, the bulk of those from Berlin proper (or their fathers) were either bankers or merchants. Bankers' families make up about one in every four native-born converts in the years after 1810. Among known migrants the pattern is very different. First of all, there are relatively few migrants from prestigious bankers' families and even the percentage of merchants is quite a bit lower than among native converts. The migrants' occupational backgrounds are very diverse, with a larger percentage of small dealers (Handelsleute) than among natives, but as would be expected especially of migrants from the eastern provinces, also with more craftsmen (especially furriers and tailors) and more involved in brewing and selling liquor. In the 1820s about one in five of the migrant converts, but very few of the natives, were in the professions, especially as teachers or students. The occupational makeup of the Taufepidemie was quite varied if one looks at all the groups who were baptized. Among those from Berlin families (excluding illegitimate children), the better-off merchants and bankers seem to predominate. The native converts were an elite group when compared to the bulk of Berlin Jewry. Migrant converts were much less prestigious but generally had an occupational profile like the Jewish communities of the eastern provinces of Prussia. Most of those identified in earlier studies as converts from artisan families turn out to be illegitimate children whose fathers were Christians. Commercial employees are most

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frequently found among Jewish fathers of illegitimate children, although many of the fathers were of more substantial occupational status.40 Residence Patterns of Converts Besides tending to be wealthier and to pursue more prestigious occupations than the bulk of Berlin Jews, the converts tended to move out of the Jewish neighborhood some time before their conversions. Living in the main Jewish area of Alt Berlin helped maintain social ties with other Jews. Moving away seemed to be a way to loosen such ties. Certainly not all who moved out of the area ended up converting, but a move from the neighborhood may often have been a first step in breaking ties with the Jewish community. Generally the move out of the Jewish neighborhood came a few years before conversion. Those who were to convert many years later had a much lesser tendency to live outside the Jewish area than those soon to convert. Overall some 40 percent of individuals who later converted lived outside Alt Berlin, as compared to less than 20 percent of all Berlin Jews.41 Those who later converted were much more likely than others who moved from the Jewish neighborhoods to choose a residence in the prestigious areas southwest of Alt Berlin. This tendency of the converted to choose to live near the prestigious Unter den Linden was still noticeable in later decades. A list of members of the Berlin merchant's guild (Corporation der Kaufmannschaft) from 1821 shows that the members of this prestigious guild were more likely to have moved out of the Jewish neighborhood than the average Jew. Still, a majority of those of Jewish origin lived in the old Jewish area. However, among persons who eventually converted only seven of thirty-six still lived in the first four districts. The converts were especially likely to live in the areas near Unter den Linden.42 The Subculture of Converted Jews The decision of members of a family to convert was a sharp break with family traditions, but it did not always entail a break in family ties. One of the most fascinating aspects of the phenomenon of the wave of conversion is the nature of the subculture of converted Jews. These former Jews retained certain ties to their still Jewish relatives but also entered into family relationships with families of "Old Christian" background. Many showed signs of wishing to break all association with other Jews, but often they were unable, or subconsciously unwilling, to break all such ties. They frequently socialized in circles of other baptized Jews or in mixed Jewish-Christian circles and often chose marriage partners from among other ex-Jews. The emotional relationships between converted Jews and their unconverted relatives are not usually well documented, but the small number of documented cases give an idea of the broad range of possibilities. In some cases, especially among the late eighteenth century elite, we know that the Jewish relatives cut their ties with the apostates. Moses Isaac-Fliess's will of 1776, for instance, had disin-

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herited any child who might convert. In several early cases (mostly involving elite women), the conversion took place in secret outside of Berlin. In at least one set of cases, the family forced the converts to revert to Judaism at least outwardly. Such secret conversions occasionally occurred even much later. One such example is the conversion of Barthold Julius and his son Carl in 1826. This conversion was kept secret from Julius's wife and in-laws, despite the fact that Carl was secretly studying Protestant theology. In 1829 the elder Julius even took an oath according to the forms prescribed for Jews. Friederike Julius continued to live with her husband apparently unaware of his change in religion.43 In many other cases, the conversion of one partner led the other partner to institute divorce proceedings. In many families, however, there was no such sharp break between the Jewish and Christian relatives. It has already been mentioned that a number of Jewish couples had their children baptized without themselves converting. A famous example of attitudes in such a family is the letter written by the not-yet-converted Abraham Mendelssohn to his daughter Fanny on the occasion of her confirmation in the Lutheran church.44 Another example is the letter written by Simon Veil to his converted son Philipp. In both these cases the Jewish father, basing himself on Enlightenment ideas, considered the difference in religions as a difference in formal adherence rather than essential nature. They felt that they could still share basic values. In a number of cases, several of them within the Mendelssohn family, it is evident that the baptized members of the family were far less tolerant of their relatives who had remained Jewish.45 Other descriptions of Jewish families of the period likewise give us evidence that converted and unconverted family members remained in close touch. In Varnhagen's description of the Cohen family in which he was a tutor in 18031804, this fact is evident. The Cohens had converted in 1800 and Mrs. Cohen's sister had also converted and married Baron von Boye, a Swedish major in Stralsund. Despite this fact, they continued to visit their mother, Mme. Fanny Bernhard (nee Fliess), every Sunday as well as on other occasions at her country house in Charlottenburg where they were lavishly entertained. During the summer, when Mme. Bernhard was in Charlottenburg, her converted and intermarried daughter von Boye lived in her city house. When Cohen went bankrupt in 1804, his mother-in-law, who must have trusted him with her fortune, lost everything. Although now destitute, she continued to remain close to her daughter and to be a member of the Jewish faith in which she died in 1825. Among those who frequented the Cohen home were a number of people who were Jewish at that time, but who converted in later decades.46 A similar mixed society is described in the memoirs of Felix Eberty, who converted in 1826 at the age of fourteen. While still Jewish he lived with his family in the same building as his wealthy great-grandmother, Sara Mosson. He remembered the Christmas presents she prepared for the family in 1816 and describes later family Christmases at his (still Jewish) home with a Christmas tree and presents. The entire family often gathered in the great-grandmother's quarters to dine on fish.47 Eberty speaks of the fact that the saloniere Sara Levy (a distant relative), who disapproved of conversion, was a benefactor of the Cauer Institute school, which

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was run by her niece's Gentile husband. Henriette Herz and Marianne Saaling continued to be among her regular guests even after their conversions. Eberty, together with his wife, still visited Levy in her old age. Eberty's Jewish father also obviously still had close contacts with the converted Mendelssohn-Bartholdy family, since he procured invitations for his son to the Sunday morning concerts at their home.48 The continued ties between converted Jews and their former coreligionists are also to be found in the organizational sphere. Since most converted Jews continued in the traditionally Jewish commercial fields, they often found themselves working together with unconverted Jews on the boards of such organizations as the Berlin stock exchange and the merchants' guild.49 In more purely social organizations as well, contacts were not broken off. This was especially the case in the Gesellschaft der Freunde, which was founded in 1792 by unmarried Jews supporting the Enlightenment. After the first few years, the organization no longer required converts to Christianity to give up their membership. Within less than twenty years the organization had Christians among its chief officers, although its membership probably remained mostly Jewish.50 The social organization appended to the Gesellschaft originally called "Ressource der jiidischen Kaufmannschaft" changed its name in 1815 to the more neutral "Ressource von 1794," since several of its members had converted.51 If, as has been shown, converted Jews often continued to have friendly relations with unconverted Jewish friends and relatives, can we assume that they formed a subgroup midway between Jews and Christians, which was not totally absorbed into the Christian social milieu? In the later nineteenth century there is ample evidence that converted Jews were not accepted by "Aryan" Christian families and found it difficult to marry into prestigious Christian families. An analysis of some of the marriages made by converted Jews shows that the degree of exclusion of Jews from the Gentile world was not by any means complete. Of those about whom we were able to collect information about marriages after their conversion,52 the majority married persons of non-Jewish origin. Among converted Jewish women a very large proportion married craftsmen or other persons of fairly low social status. Quite a few of these unions involved the legitimization of children born out of wedlock or marriage because of a prenuptial conception. We generally know little of the social background of the wives of the Jewish men who married after conversion. But in the case of male converts, too, most married persons of non-Jewish origin, sometimes in order to legitimize a child.53 About 5 percent of male converts' marriages and over 10 percent of the marriages of female converts were to members of the nobility. This was especially true in the early years for women but continued to happen throughout the period under study. Quite a few children of baptized Jews who had been converted as young children later married nobles. Although most converted Jews married persons of non-Jewish origin, about a third of them married other converted Jews. This seems to have been especially true of prestigious families. In prestigious families the convert was often likely to marry either a converted Jew or a noble, unlike the less prestigious, who tended to

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marry Gentile commoners. Among the Jewish converts who married other converts were Julius Eduard Hitzig (the grandson of Daniel Itzig), Nathan Mendelssohn, the philosopher's youngest son (to Hitzig's sister Henriette Marianne), the grandchildren of David Friedlander, some of whom married into the Mendheim family. Carl Eduard Liman married his converted cousin Wilhelmine Caroline Emilie Liman. The baptized Aron Philippi also married a converted cousin. In at least one case an engaged couple converted together and married as Christians. In certain cases, even the descendants of these couples who married other converted Jews continued to marry into formerly Jewish families (for instance, the child of one of David Friedlander's converted grandchildren who married a Bendemann and whose son married a Mendelssohn-Bartholdy). If we add the substantial number of couples who converted together, and then had further children who were raised as Christians, to the number of those who married other converts, we find a substantial subgroup still married to persons of Jewish origin after their conversion. It is true that some Jewish couples who converted nevertheless divorced so that one or both could marry a Gentile (e.g., Amalie Neuburger who married the convert Martin Christian Eschwe, although her exhusband also converted, or Wilhelm Zacharias Friebe who married a woman named Walch even though his ex-wife converted as well). Still, the majority of married couples who converted did remain together. Thus, despite the access that some of the converts had to marriage into the lower middle class artisan class or into the nobility, professional class, or Gentile merchant class, a substantial percentage of the converts remained in marriages with persons of Jewish origin. Although we cannot find a systematic pattern of exclusion like that found in later decades, we do find a subgroup of converted Jews who retained some ties to each other and even to their former coreligionists. The wave of baptism, while it did not affect one-half or one-third of Berlin Jewry as the most extreme claims have stated, certainly did present an unprecedented phenomenon in German Jewish history. Undoubtedly, the conversion of so many people, especially of so many members of the elite, was a shock to many. The wave of conversions was most noticeable in certain elite families and in the age group of those born around 1800, though it affected all groups in Berlin to some extent. Although the wave of baptisms as a statistical phenomenon was an unbroken curve that rose from the 1770s to reach a peak in the late 1820s, it was nevertheless made up of several subwaves. The earliest phase was marked by the baptisms of hundreds of children born out of wedlock to mixed couples. The period after 1800 saw increasing baptisms of whole families and family groups. The period of the 1820s was marked by the baptisms of young men from the provinces seeking career advancement. Although those native to Berlin who converted tended to come from the elite, they were usually outnumbered by migrants, often of modest backgrounds, who came from the provinces to convert. The large number of illegitimate children who converted in the years before 1806 points out the fact that the conversions were only one aspect of a more widespread crisis of the Jewish family. The conventional role of the family to uphold

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traditional values and pass them on to the next generation seems not to have been as attractive to young Berlin Jews between 1780 and 1830 as it had been earlier. In the first half of the period the attraction of extramarital affairs seems to have appealed to many young Jewish men and women. In the second half of the period when illegitimacy and extramarital affairs seemed to become less common, the family still seemed to lose some of its old role as an upholder of Jewish tradition. In fact it would seem that family connections frequently played a role in inducing Jews to leave their ancestral religion and convert to Christianity. Overall the crisis was not merely a crisis of conversions; it was a crisis of identity. Many Jews, especially young Jews who had begun to move away from traditional religious and cultural patterns, were left without models. They did not know where the boundaries of their behavior should lie. If one no longer spoke or dressed as the earlier generations, did that mean one could abandon Jewish ritual practice? If one abandoned the dietary laws and the Sabbath, did that mean one could engage in love affairs outside of marriage? Could one find a form of Judaism that incorporated the cultural changes of the new generation, or was baptism the only alternative to traditional Jewish religion? These and other questions undoubtedly troubled many young Jews in the years between 1780 and 1830. The waves of illegitimacy and conversion were merely the most extreme and obvious of the manifestations of a general crisis of identity.

12 Religious Reform: An Attempt to Deal with the Crisis

The crisis of Berlin Jewry was by no means over when the Jews of Prussia were granted citizenship by the decree of March 1812. Although the era of unconventional family patterns and out-of-wedlock births was coming to an end, the wave of baptisms continued unabated. The new status of Berlin Jews as citizens of the city and of Prussia found them faced both with the continuing problem of defections from Judaism and the new issues of how to deal with their new political status. One result of the Emancipation law was that it brought back to the fore ideological issues that had been languishing almost unnoticed since the collapse of the Jewish Enlightenment in the last years of the eighteenth century. Those who began to advocate a reform of the Jewish religion after 1812 generally connected their call to action with the new civic status of the Jews. Now that the Jews were citizens, they claimed, they should pray in the language of their country (German) and change those prayers calling for a return to Palestine, rescue from persecution, or a restoration of the Jerusalem Temple. Despite the fact that the overt explanation of the need for reform was related to emancipation, the ongoing problem of conversions must have been a factor as well. Proponents of reform wanted to make sure that coming generations would continue the Jewish religion. In their minds, this would only be possible if the religion underwent a thoroughgoing reform. The controversy over reform, which divided Berlin Jewry for over ten years, was, in some ways, a continuation of the demands of radical followers of the Haskala for religious changes. By the 1810s, however, it also had the more conservative aim of preserving Judaism, which seemed threatened by indifference and conversion. Whatever the intentions of its supporters, however, it is probable that the reform movement had little effect in slowing the pace of conversion. Nor did the prohibition of religious reform by the government in 1823 have much impact on speeding up conversion, despite the fact that some government officials seem

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to have been motivated by missionary motives in fighting against religious reform efforts in Judaism. Precursors of the Reform Controversy Although the first direct proposal for a reform of the Jewish liturgy was not issued until after the Emancipation law of 1812, a situation favorable to the forces of change had been in place in Berlin for several years. The leadership of Berlin Jewry in the years immediately before and after the decree of 1812 was somewhat different from the traditional leadership of the community. The special constellation of forces of leadership between 1808 and 1824 may explain some of the peculiar features of the internal controversies in Berlin Jewry in those years. Moral and religious leadership of Berlin Jewry, if not the administrative leadership, had always been the province of the communal rabbinate. In the early nineteenth century the rabbinate was in a weakened state without an official chief rabbi. The rabbinic court of three was filled with men who played little role in communal affairs of the period. In contrast with the weakened state of the rabbinate, the lay leadership of the community was occupied by men of considerable strength and standing. This in itself was not particularly new. However, since 1808, the majority of members of the board of elders were not only in favor of the Enlightenment but willing to put their beliefs into practice. Among its members were such vehement opponents of the old ways as David Friedlander, August Heinrich Bendemann, and Ruben Gumpertz. While the traditionalist Liepmann Meyer Wulff remained the nominal chief elder, illness prevented him from attending any meetings.1 After 1812, when Wulff died, there was no longer a single chief elder as there had been for several previous generations. The regular procedure of electing elders and other officers by a combination of lot and election for three-year terms did not function normally in this period. The officers chosen in 1808 served for six years instead of three. It would seem that those chosen in 1814, unlike any of their predecessors, were chosen in a general election rather than in the traditional manner. In any case, they served for no fewer than ten years—an unprecedented period without an election. Only in 1824 was there a return to a traditionally chosen board and triennial elections.2 The board newly elected at the end of 1808 began to put pressure on the remaining orthodox institutions in the city, especially on the traditional institutions of Talmudic learning. Because of the critical budget situation they tried repeatedly to reduce the subsidy for yeshiva students supported by the Talmud Torah. A long and sometimes bitter struggle took place between the elders and the heads of the orthodox Talmud Torah society between 1809 and 1813. The elders tried to cut both the number of Talmud students in the city and the amount of subsidy to the Talmud Torah. David Friedlander, who led the drive to cut the subsidies, seems to have been motivated both by the feeling that it was a waste of money to underwrite Talmud students and by the desire to cut the orthodox power base.3 Although this controversy was a quiet one, unlike the very public dispute

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over religious reform, it was a sign of a new militance on the part of the modernist forces in Berlin.

The Reform Controversy in Berlin In paragraph 39 of the Emancipation decree of March 1812, the Prussian government had left matters of internal Jewish organization and religion unregulated. It promised, however, that it would consult with trusted and knowledgeable Jews about "the necessary regulations regarding the ecclesiastical status of the Jews and the improvement of their education."4 Shortly after the decree was promulgated, David Friedlander, the leader of the Jewish fight for emancipation, issued a pamphlet stating that the new political status of the Jews called forth the need for a thoroughgoing reform of the Jewish religious service and education. The influence of Friedlander's proposal was increased by the fact that he was an elder of the community at the time he wrote the pamphlet. This pamphlet, to which was attached a petition bearing the names of 136 Berlin Jews, marked the beginning of a new stage of ideological controversy in Berlin Jewry.5 The movement for religious reform in general was in its infancy when Friedlander issued his pamphlet. Except for various proposals by intellectuals, there were virtually no efforts at instituting changes in Jewish liturgy and religious law until the period of Napoleon's occupation of Germany. Most of the reform efforts that took place during the Napoleonic period were centered in the Kingdom of Westphalia, a new political entity founded in 1807 and ruled by Napoleon's brother Jerome. The Kingdom of Westphalia proclaimed a wide-ranging emancipation of its Jewish residents and, on the model that had recently been created in France, put Jewish communal affairs under the aegis of a consistory. The Westphalian consistory, presided over by the wealthy banker and court financier Israel Jacobson (17681828), promulgated numerous liturgical reforms, most of them relatively slight and related to decorum, and some minor adjustments in Jewish legal restrictions.6 As the consistory in Kassel (the capital) was instituting these mild reforms, President Jacobson himself founded what is generally considered the world's first reformed temple in the small town of Seesen, where he had earlier founded a Jewish school. This temple, which was opened in 1810, contained an organ; services there were partly in German. There was a German sermon and choral singing, all of them innovations in Judaism.7 In a letter to a friend, David Friedlander expressed his opinion that the reforms of the Westphalian consistory were half-measures, which made little sense.8 He proposed radical restructuring rather than the mainly cosmetic changes proposed by Jacobson. Ironically, not only was Jacobson's style of reform to predominate in religious reform in Berlin, but Jacobson himself was slated to play a larger role than Friedlander. Although Friedlander's proposals of 1812 provoked discussion and won support, especially in Berlin itself, no practical results occurred immediately. A com-

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mission was created by the government to discuss the proposal. Two representatives each were to be sent by the Jewish communities of Berlin, Potsdam, Breslau, and Konigsberg.9 In the election to the commission in Berlin, Friedlander and his fellow reformer Ruben Samuel Gumpertz were decisively defeated and two conservative delegates sent instead.10 The matter was further delayed by the successful war against Napoleon, which broke out in 1813 and continued into 1814. The defeat of Napoleon and the reestablishment of peace brought the question of religious reform back to public discussion in Berlin. The first incident in what would soon become an all-out dispute between reformers and orthodox took place when the pro-Enlightenment Gesellschaft der Freunde asked the elders of the community for permission to hold a special service in the synagogue celebrating the peace. This service was to be marked by a number of liturgical innovations—a German sermon, a mixed choir (mixed both in sex and religion), mixed-sex seating in the synagogue, and the singing of psalms in German. The elders, a majority of whom supported reforms, approved the proposal, but orthodox petitioners protested and Rabbi Meyer Simon Weyl issued prohibitions against several of the proposed innovations. In the end the Gesellschaft der Freunde decided to hold the service in its own hall rather than in the synagogue.11 The end of the war also helped the development of a reform movement in Berlin for another reason. With the defeat of Napoleon, the Kingdom of Westphalia was abolished and the consistory headed by Israel Jacobson with it. In late 1814, less than three months after the incident concerning the service celebrating the peace, Jacobson established legal residency in Berlin. In the spring of the following year he arranged a confirmation ceremony for his son Naphtali in a private chapel in his home in the former Itzig mansion. This became the nucleus of what soon became regular private reformed services in Jacobson's home. Soon the services were attracting as many as 400 persons and had to be moved to the larger quarters available at the nearby home of Jacob Herz Beer, a wealthy sugar refiner.12 Eventually, these private reformed services attracted the unfavorable attention of the royal government. Until the recent researches of Michael Meyer, it had been assumed that the orthodox had complained to the government about the reformed service. It would now seem that the initiative actually came from King Friedrich Wilhelm III himself, who saw, by chance, a newspaper advertisement mentioning a sermon given in the Beer temple. This event took place in November 1815, less than a year after the reformed services began.13 From that point on, the issue of religious reform in Berlin, which did not seem to have aroused very deep controversy previously, became a source of serious division within the community. This inner division was exacerbated by the fact that the king and his government were actively involved in it. Eventually, after many twists and turns, the controversy would end with a royal order (in December 1823) forbidding all reform Jewish innovations within the Kingdom of Prussia. Initially the king's discomfort with the existence of the Privat-Tempel was connected with the fact that the reform synagogue was private. Friedrich Wilhelm was suspicious of all private gatherings and of the creation of secret sects. In addition, the Jewry decree of 1750 had severely limited the holding of services outside the official synagogue. Therefore, despite the counsel of some of his advi-

138

THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

SOTS, the king issued an order on December 9, 1815, that all private synagogues in Berlin be closed. This decree, which allowed only one tolerated place of Jewish worship in the city, made the controversy between orthodox and reform much sharper. The reformers and the orthodox could no longer go their separate ways but would have to share the same facilities. In addition, Friedrich von Schuckmann, the Prussian Minister of the Interior, took it upon himself to order that the services in the synagogue be in the German language if the majority of Berlin Jews no longer understood Hebrew. This resulted in alarmed protests by the orthodox.14 The elders of the community were well aware of the impossibility of reconciling both factions to the same religious service. They therefore looked for means to secure permission for a plurality of religious services. When they declared that the synagogue was too small to accommodate the entire Jewish community, the king said they should build a larger one if necessary. He refused to tolerate a second synagogue. Thereupon the elders tried to implement an arrangement by which the German service would be held on the Sabbath after the conclusion of the traditional service. This failed because of orthodox objections.15 Various building proposals were now put forth. There was a complicated shifting of positions, with each party setting forth different views on whether and how the synagogue should be repaired. Meanwhile, as the building was being renovated, the elders received permission to hold services in three locations in the city, including the Beer mansion.16 The reformed service in the Beer-Jacobson temple has been described frequently. Its form was not nearly as radical as David Friedlander had proposed. Men and women sat in separate rooms (whose walls had been broken through) facing each other. There was an organ and a boys' choir. Much of the service was in Hebrew (in the Sephardic pronunciation), but there were some prayers in German. A German sermon, generally given by a learned young man without a rabbinic degree, was a central part of the service. The congregation issued what is presumably the first reformed prayerbook in existence. Some of the prayers calling for God to return the Jewish people to their ancient homeland were removed. Confirmations were held from time to time.17 In 1823 the royal government decided to settle the religious conflicts in the Berlin Jewish community once and for all. In February 1823 a government order forbade the separate service in the Beer home as well as such innovations as the organ. A petition by 151 reformers headed by Joseph Mendelssohn in April 1823, asked for permission to at least have prayers in German. It, too, was rejected. Shortly thereafter a request was made that, following the regular traditional Sabbath service, a supplemental service with some German prayers and a sermon be permitted. This was granted in July 1823 by the communal elders and accepted by Minister of Interior Schuckmann despite the protests of Rabbi Weyl. The first such supplemental service was scheduled for October 1823. The elders ordered that the Hebrew services end at 10 A.M. in the summer and 10:30 A.M. in the winter, with the German service to follow immediately.18 The orthodox party reported to the government that the service had been accompanied by various innovations. This led the king to issue an order on December 9, 1823, that "Jewish

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services may be held only in the local synagogue and only according to the traditional rite without the slightest innovation in language and in the ceremonies, prayers and songs, completely according to the old tradition."19 This order suppressed the supplemental German service. Reform Jewish worship was to remain illegal in Prussia for over fifteen years.20 The years of religious conflict in Berlin had several striking features. First is the level of intrigue employed by both parties and their use of government assistance to further their cause. The orthodox party seemed especially ready to have frequent recourse to government interference. Also striking is the fact that, so early in the history of the movement, the reform party dominated the board of elders of the Berlin community and attracted a majority, or near-majority, of the members of the Berlin Jewish community. Even more striking is the active role played by the royal government. Not only did the ministers of Religion and Interior Altenstein and Schuckmann issue a number of orders and conduct several investigations into the matter of reform (and sometimes at cross-purposes with each other), but King Friedrich Wilhelm III himself showed a surprising degree of involvement in the case. Why was a matter of seemingly private and local interest so important to the Prussian king? To understand this it is necessary to look at the changed political situation in Prussia in general, as well as at the changed political position of Prussia's Jews. The period after the defeat of Napoleon was one of political reaction in Prussia as in many other parts of Europe. The king was fearful of innovations of any sort, both in religion and in politics. Just as censorship suppressed liberal political opinions, so government laws forbade religious innovations out of fear of the development of new sects. The king's position on the religious controversy in the Jewish community was not merely a reflection of general conservatism. It also related to the overall government attitude toward the Jews. The political situation of the Jews during the period was different from their position during any earlier period. The Jews of Berlin were now citizens of Prussia with virtually the same rights as Christians. The royal government after the fall of Napoleon did not revoke the emancipation of the Jews, but it did restrict the scope of the emancipation and put an increasing number of restrictions on it. Although the king and his officials no longer viewed the Jews as a foreign group from whom they would have to protect the "real inhabitants" of Prussia, they did see the Jewish religion and tradition as inferior to the Christian faith. Most officials wished to find ways either to break down Jewish "prejudices" and separateness, or to encourage Jews to give up their religion altogether. At the same time, the government was committed, at least in theory, to liberty of conscience, which would not allow direct interference in the right of Jews to their own religious worship and beliefs. However, the status of Judaism was that of a merely "tolerated" religion rather than that of a government-sponsored "state church" like the Christian denominations.21 There were two opposing tactics employed by Prussian officials during the religious controversies in Berlin, although most seemed to agree on general principles. One group saw the demands of the reform party, especially the demands

140

THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

for a service in German, as a sign that some Jews wished to break down Jewish separatism. They therefore sought to encourage that trend. Others, the king among them, felt that the Jews should not have the choice of a reform of Judaism. As the king said as early as 1812, "As long as Jews remain Jews whose peculiar beliefs are based on the acceptance of the Mosaic or Old Testament laws, I can accept changes . . . only insofar as they do not contradict the above-mentioned essence and principles of the Jewish religion."22 The king wished to give the Jews only two choices—to remain orthodox Jews or to convert to Christianity. There are a number of reasons to believe that the king's motives were in part missionary. He did not wish to recognize the Jewish religion as having a value equal to that of Christianity. In 1819 a law was passed forbidding Christian children from attending Jewish schools. In 1821 Christian clergy and government officials were forbidden from attending Jewish ceremonies. In 1822 the government gave its approval to a new "Society for the Propagation of Christianity among the Jews."23 The prohibition of the reformed service would then, according to the king's thinking, encourage those who were dissatisfied with traditional Judaism to seek baptism. The prohibition of reformed Judaism in 1823 was only part of a series of acts by the government reducing the effects of the Emancipation decree of 1812. Although the peace treaties of 1815 greatly increased the territory of Prussia, the decree of 1812 was applied only to those territories that had been Prussian in 1812. Even within those areas, the equality granted the Jews was slowly chipped away. Although the law of 1812 had left open the question of whether Jews could become government officials, the official practice was not to allow them in government service. The definition of government service was broadened so that Jews were excluded from such fields as pharmacy and surveying. Finally, in 1822, the provision permitting Jews to serve as academic teachers was revoked. Attempts were also made to forbid Jews from having Christian given names, from being chosen mayors, and from serving in the royal guard, among other prohibitions.24 Although most of these restrictions were relatively minor, they did show clearly that the Jews were not considered equals by the government. Such exclusions may have been among the factors that encouraged some Jews to give up on their Judaism and to seek equality by accepting baptism. The Social Recruitment of the Reformers and Their Opponents The two groups into which Berlin Jewry split during the reform controversy were much more clearly defined than the divisions between followers of the Enlightenment and traditionalists in the time of Moses Mendelssohn. Little of the "double affiliation" between subscribers to Haskala works and membership in traditionalist organizations that had been noticeable in the 1770s survived after 1812.25 In general the proreform group is better documented than its less articulate and less well organized orthodox opponents. Besides the considerable number of persons who signed proreform petitions, there is a complete list of those affiliated with the Beer temple in 1818, which contains the names of 245 male heads of

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family, 435 independent persons, and 963 persons in all, including dependents.26 This represents about one-third of all married Jewish heads of family in Berlin and about one-fourth of all Jewish individuals. A similar list for the orthodox does not seem to be available.27 Estimates made at the time of the controversy varied in terms of the relative strength of the orthodox party. One said that the orthodox were only "slightly more than one half" as numerous as the reformers, while another claimed 250 heads of families for the orthodox (i.e., virtually the same as the reformers).28 The reformers and the orthodox differed in many of their social characteristics as well. The most obvious difference, and one long suspected, was in their wealth. This is not to say that the known orthodox activists were poor. In fact the poorest group in Berlin consists of those not affiliated with either group. The orthodox activists were a fair cross-section of the social classes within Berlin Jewry. The reformers, on the other hand, were much more weighted toward the wealthy end of the spectrum (Table 6). The greater wealth of reformers compared with the orthodox, and the greater poverty of the unaffiliated compared with the orthodox are demonstrated in several ways. The average tax of reform affiliates was almost double that of the orthodox.29 The percentage of reformers in the upper tax brackets (especially over 100 Taler) was more than double that of the orthodox or unaffiliated. The reformers also made up a much larger percentage of all wealthy taxpayers than was their percentage of those in the modest taxpaying categories (1-25 Taler). Although the reformers tended to be richer than the orthodox, there were some wealthy orthodox and some poorer reformers. There were, however, only about half the percentage of wealthy among orthodox activists as among reformers. Poor reform taxpayers were also only half as common as poor orthodox taxpayers.30 Besides being richer than the orthodox, the reformers tended to pursue more prestigious occupations as well. Besides the general category of "merchant," which TABLE 6.

Tax Level of Reform, Orthodox, and Unaffiliated Heads of Families*

Tax Level (1809) Wealthy exempt

Reform 5

(4.6%)

Orthodox

—

Unaffiliateded

(0.0%)

6

(1.8%) (11.7%)

33

(30.6%)

75-99 Taler

9

(8.3%)

10 (13.7%) 4 (5.5%)

40 10

50-74 Taler

14

(13.0%)

12 (16.4%)

28

(8.2%)

25-^19 Taler

19

(17.6%)

(6.8%)

57

(16.7%)

1-24 Taler

21

(19.4%)

30 (41.1%)

89

(26.0%)

7

(6.5%)

12 (16.4%)

112

(32.7%)

73

342

100 Taler and more

Too poor to pay Total

108

5

(2.9%)

*Heads of families listed under "Reform" were registered members of the Reform service as of 1818; those listed under "Orthodox" were either members of the burial society or signers of anti-Reform petitions. By no means do they include all Orthodox Jews. Finally, those listed as "Unaffiliated" appear on neither list, although they may, in fact, have been affiliated and left no record.

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THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

was common among both reformers and orthodox, the next most common occupations among the reformers point to two very different social groups. One large group were bankers and money changers (Wechsler)—generally a prestigious group.31 The second group were much more lowly "commercial employees" (Handlungsdiener). This second category of "servants" in commercial concerns was made up generally of the young and unmarried. A similar group of dependent commercial employees had also been prominent in the eighteenth century Haskala.32 Surprisingly, few of the reformers were involved in such intellectual occupations as teaching or medicine.33 The orthodox leaders do not seem to have included commercial employees, but they included relatively few in the prestigious occupations either. Although they did include a number of bankers and merchants, these played a much smaller proportional role than among the reformers. Almost as important among orthodox leaders were pawnbrokers, petty traders (Handelsleute), and old clothes dealers.34 Whereas a large number of reformers later joined the prestigious Korporation der Kaufmannschaft (merchant's guild), relatively few orthodox did so.35 The reformers and orthodox not only differed in occupation and wealth; they also tended to have different residential distributions. Like most Berlin Jews, both groups tended to live overwhelmingly in police districts 1-4 of the 24 police districts of Berlin. Not surprisingly this was more true of the orthodox (91.9 percent) than the reformers (81.1 percent). Within the Jewish area, the orthodox tended to live in the less prestigious districts 2 and 3 south and east of Konigstrasse (54.8 percent, as against 33.6 percent of all reformers). The orthodox were also less likely to live on the prestigious streets near the river Spree facing the royal palace (Burgstrasse, Poststrasse, Heilige Geiststrasse), and more likely to live on less prestigious streets away from the river (especially Jiidenstrasse and Stralauerstrasse).36 Orthodox Jews seem also to have concentrated on the narrow streets near the synagogue, but this is harder to determine since few of the Jews there were taxpayers. Of those who lived outside the four "Jewish" police districts, over half of the reformers, but none of the orthodox lived in the more prestigious neighborhoods south of the Spree.37 The sharply differing residential patterns of the two groups seems to have had nothing to do with the traditional Jewish law requiring one to walk to the synagogue on the Sabbath. The communal synagogue was in district 1, closer to the area predominantly reform than to the orthodox area. In any case, all of the Jewish residences were in easy walking distance of the Heidereutergasse synagogue. Besides, many orthodox Jews seem to have preferred to attend the various private synagogues in the neighborhood. The difference in residence patterns seems rather to have been a matter of tradition and prestige. The streets on which the orthodox predominated were, in general, the same streets on which the Jews of Berlin had been concentrated back in the 1740s. The streets on which reformers predominated were newer streets, to which Jews had generally moved after the Seven Years War.38 Undoubtedly part of the reason for the difference in residential patterns of orthodox and reformers is related to wealth, but this is not the entire story. Affluent orthodox leaders tended to live near the poor orthodox and not near rich reform

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supporters. Poor reformers were about equally likely to live near wealthy reformers as near poor orthodox.39 In general the orthodox leaders were older than the reformers by about seven years.40 Almost 25 percent of the orthodox taxpayers were born before 1750 as against 3 percent of the reformers. Thirty-five percent of the reform taxpayers and only 20 percent of the orthodox were born in 1770 or later. Looking at the taxpayers alone would cause us to overestimate the ages of the reform affiliates.41 Among Berlin householders in 1812, later reformers were overrepresented in all the age groups born after 1760 but were most overrepresented among those born in the 1770s. Although the reformers were younger than the orthodox, this does not mean that they were an extremely youthful group, since the average reform head of household was in his mid-forties in 1818. The percentage of reformers falls off slightly among those who were younger than forty.42 Since most members of both groups were born between 1750 and 1780, they would have been young adults or children at the time of the first appearance of the Jewish Enlightenment in the days of Mendelssohn. Most would have reached adulthood around the time of the beginning of the radical phase of the Haskala and the appearance of the journal Hameassef late in the eighteenth century. Although there was some continuity in leadership between those involved in activities of the Haskala at the end of the eighteenth century and those involved in religious reform in the early nineteenth century, this was not the general rule. In contrast to men like David Friedlander, Lazarus Bendavid, and Bernhard Lindau, who had been leaders of the Haskala, many members of the Beer-Jacobson temple had never been involved in the Enlightenment. Some of the leaders were either too young or simply were uninvolved in the earlier events (for instance, Jacob Herz Beer).43 Although the vast majority of those active among the orthodox were, not surprisingly, observant of traditional Jewish ritual, the affiliates of the Beer-Jacobson temple varied widely in their practice. A significant minority of them continued to follow at least some of the traditional Jewish law. Approximately 81 percent of the orthodox and 37 percent of the reformers are listed as paying the kosher meat tax around 1814. The orthodox who did not pay the meat tax were all poor or of modest means; the reformers who did not pay the meat tax were evenly spread across the tax classes.44 There seems to have been no drop-off in buying kosher meat among the younger taxpayers. Especially striking is the fact that younger taxpayers affiliated with the reformed service were much more likely to pay the kosher meat tax than were older reformers. This would seem to indicate that many of the young heads of households who attended the reformed services were not nearly as radical in their practices as the older generation of reformers who grew up in the heady days of the late eighteenth century.45 The fact that most reformers were too young to have been involved in Haskala activities and that younger reformers were somewhat more observant than older ones raises the question of the relationship between early reform and the Enlightenment of the previous generation. On the one hand, the reform controversy, which had personal consequences in terms of what service to attend and how the com-

144

THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

munity should tend to liturgical matters, forced people to choose sides in a way that the controversies of the eighteenth century did not. By taking the battle into the former stronghold of the traditionalists—the synagogues—the reformers were escalating the battle against tradition. Of those reform members who were old enough to have been adults at the time of the Enlightenment, there were quite a few who had actively supported the Haskala by subscribing to its works. The opponents of the reformers, although more of them were old enough to do so, were less likely to have personally supported the Enlightenment publications. Yet the fact is that some of the later orthodox had been supporters of the Haskala as well. They must have seen some of the activities of the Meassfim and of Mendelssohn as positive, even though they drew the line when it came to religious reform.46 On the other hand, the form of the Beer-Jacobson temple service was less radical than what David Friedlander and his school would have wanted. The younger generation of householders affiliated with the reformed service tended to be more observant than the older generation. Perhaps some of them were also less ideologically radical as well.47 This may have been one of the reasons that Berlin reform was somewhat more respectful of tradition than some of the radical Maskilim had been. Another factor moderating radical trends in the reformed temple was the political atmosphere of the time. For their temple to continue in existence, the reformers had to mollify a king who was suspect of all forms of innovation. The elimination of the reformed Jewish service by royal decree in 1823 affected a group of supporters who made up a large section of Berlin Jewry. They were especially numerous among the wealthier Jews following the more prestigious professions and among relatively young heads of family. This large constituency might have been disappointed or even despondent upon the prohibition of any alternative to orthodoxy. They would turn in various directions—toward religious indifference, toward conversion, perhaps toward lukewarm conformity. In any case, the bulk of them would not return to enthusiastic observance of the traditions of orthodox Judaism. The Verein fur Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden The religious controversies in Berlin from 1815 to 1823 play an important role in the history of the worldwide religious reform movement. Reform of the Jewish liturgy and synagogue practice was a movement that gained the support of a substantial proportion of Berlin Jewry. The aborted reform movement in Berlin had considerable influence elsewhere, especially on the Hamburg temple, opened in 1818. At about the same time as the Berlin community was being divided by the controversy over the reformed temple, a much smaller group of young scholars was founding a different kind of movement that would also have an important echo in Jewish historiography and thought. Like the salons, the Verein fur Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden involved a small circle of individuals whose influence went

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145

beyond their small group. Unlike those active in the salons, the members of the Verein were exclusively male and were young, often impecunious, and mostly newcomers to the city. The young men who founded the Verein fiir Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden, in November 1819, had generally been among the supporters of the Jacobson-Beer temple in the conflict with the orthodox. Several of those in the Verein circle had been active as preachers in the temple. Yet the Verein members did not see religious reform as a solution to the future of the Jews. This small group of intellectuals was looking for a new basis for Jewish identity now that the old bonds of religion and the ceremonial law had been loosened. They seem to have differed from followers of the Enlightenment and from early reformers in a number of their formulations. In their writings, several of the leaders speak of the Jewish people as a nationality with its own culture. Although, like the Enlighteners, they desired the Jews to rid themselves of those traits that prevented their integration into European culture, they seem to have been searching for an essential Jewish quality worthy of retention. Another distinguishing quality was a view of Jewry as a historical phenomenon that might still have a role in the history of the West. Some of the Verein members espoused the philosophy of Hegel and therefore seemed to be looking for a "synthesis" between the thesis of tradition and the negating criticism of the Enlightenment. At its founding the Verein had seven members. Five of them were between the ages of twenty-two and thirty-one. The other two were fifty-two and thirty-nine, respectively. With the exception of Eduard Gans, who came from a wealthy Berlin family, all seem to have arrived in Berlin during the thirteen years before the Verein was founded. Leopold Zunz, who would become the most famous Judaica scholar to emerge from the Verein, had arrived in Berlin in 1815 at the age of 21.48 A number of the young men had come to Berlin to study at its new university and several were still students. The organization never grew to be very large. It seems to have had at most fifteen active members in Berlin. The organization also gave honorary membership to some of the leading Enlighteners of the older generation such as David Friedlander, Lazarus Bendavid, and Israel Jacobson. Two of those who joined the Verein after its founding were Heinrich Heine, the great German-Jewish Romantic poet, and Immanuel (Wolf) Wohlwill, who produced several theoretical statements on the goals of Wissenschaft. The organization had a twofold purpose—one directed outward at improving the state of culture of the Jewish community, the other directed inward at a serious intellectual analysis of Judaism. For the first purpose it proposed, but never carried out, a scheme for vocational retraining, and it created a school for poor Jewish boys. The heart of the organization's distinctiveness, however, was its "scientific institute." At Verein meetings members delivered talks outlining their views on Judaism or the results of their researches. The society insisted on a "scientific" approach toward their studies rather than simply an evaluation based on an ideology. The results of the "scientific" work of the institute were made public in the journal of the Verein, which published three issues in 1823. Unlike other Jewish periodicals, its tone was scholarly rather than activist. It contained articles by

146

THE CRISIS OF BERLIN JEWRY

Wohlwill, Cans, and Leopold Zunz as well as the older generation's Friedlander and Bendavid. It was Zunz's contributions that are considered the most significant products of the Verein. He had already written an epoch-making pamphlet entitled Etwas iiber die rabbinische Literatur in 1818. In this work he sets forth a program for the scholarly study of medieval Jewish literature. In articles published in the Verein's journal, Zunz dealt with such disparate topics as Spanish place names in Hebrew literature, "Outline for a Future Statistics of the Jews," and a biography of the medieval Jewish commentator Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo ben Itzhak). This latter article is generally considered the first important piece of modern Jewish scholarship, dealing as it does with a figure whose world view was anything but congenial to that of German Jewish Enlighteners. The biography of Rashi showed that one could deal objectively with views that came from a foreign mentality without needing to engage in apologetics. The journal has impressed later historians much more than it did its contemporaries. It was difficult even for friends to sell copies of it. By June 1823, it had ceased publication, and the organization itself was in disarray. Several of the founders had quit after disputes with other leaders; some had left Berlin, and others simply lost interest. By 1824 the Verein had gone out of existence. Several of its leading members, including Eduard Gans and Heinrich Heine, soon converted to Christianity for career reasons. Others who did not toyed with the idea. Although many of the Verein's members went on to prominence in German culture, only Zunz continued the task of creating a Wissenschaft des Judentums dedicated to the scholarly study of Judaism. How significant was the influence of the tiny group involved in the Verein? Among its members, only Leopold Zunz played an important role in making Wissenschaft des Judentums an intellectual method of influence. The methods of Wissenschaft became important weapons in the intellectual arsenal of reform Judaism and eventually were accepted by almost all religious trends in German Jewry. Although scholars of Judaism and rabbis in Germany often used the methods of Wissenschaft, the Wissenschaft movement otherwise affected only very small numbers of people. Perhaps there are other reasons why the Verein has loomed large in the historiography of German Jewry. A number of the members of the group later became very famous—especially Heinrich Heine and the legal scholar Eduard Gans. In addition, the first important historian to emerge from German Jewry—Isaac Marcus Jost—was a member of the Verein. Perhaps it was Jost who drew the attention of the scholarly public to the Verein. Zunz's meticulous personal archives preserved much of the documentation of the organization intact. There can be little question that as an organization the Verein fur Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden had even less success than did the move for religious reform in Berlin. Its journal published only one volume; its membership always remained small, and its organizational life was short-lived. After its dissolution the members scattered geographically, ideologically, and religiously. Still, this small organization seems to have found an echo in later generations analyzing the exciting period of Berlin in the early 1820s.

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* * *

The decade from 1814 to 1823 was marked by intensive ideological debate within the Jewish community. A legally emancipated community was now divided about whether religious reform was to be the form of Judaism in Berlin. Compared with the debate about Haskala over a generation earlier, the battle lines were more clearly drawn. The very nature of the dispute forced a large proportion of Berlin Jewish families to take sides. No longer were many persons active both in supporting the Enlightenment and in supporting traditional learning and religious practices. Although the battle lines were now drawn, religious reform as it came into being in Berlin was not a more radical phenomenon than the Haskala had been. Certainly reform went well beyond the demands of the conservative Haskala leaders Moses Mendelssohn and Hartwig Wessely, who represented the founding generation of the Jewish Enlightenment. However, the generation succeeding the two leaders had engaged in much more radical religious proposals. One need not think only of David Friedlander but also of his contemporaries Lazarus Bendavid, Isaac Euchel, and Aron Wolfsohn. Many of that generation had broken with traditional Jewish ritual practice by the end of the eighteenth century. The leaders of reform in Berlin, and even more so their followers, do not seem to have been as radical in their personal practice as the most radical Maskilim. A number of the leaders of Berlin reform retained some personal ritual observance in their families.49 The Beer-Jacobson temple, for all that it shocked the traditionalists, retained much more of the traditional liturgy, the separation of the sexes, and the Hebrew language than radicals like Friedlander and Bendavid might have preferred. However much the desire to make liturgical reforms meant the creation of an open anti-orthodox party in the community, it seems to have marked a rapprochement between the most radical Enlightenment views and tradition. However radical or moderate the demands of early reform Judaism were in Berlin, they ended up without any lasting effect because of the opposition of the royal government. Nor did other ideological attempts to create a new basis for Judaism in Wissenschaft have any success at all. After 1823 the Jewish community was left with three main choices—orthodoxy, indifference, or conversion to Christianity. The crisis of baptisms in Berlin was not affected very directly by the ups and downs of the reform temple in Berlin. Its demise neither exacerbated nor ended the wave of baptisms. The receding of the crisis seems to have depended on other factors, primarily the disappearance of many of the old elite families and the arrival in Berlin of growing numbers of migrants from the eastern provinces.

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IV The Social Analysis of the Crisis and Its Connection to the Enlightenment

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J3^ Family, Ideology, and Crisis: The Personal Connections Between the Enlightened and the Converts

In the sixty years between 1770 and 1830, Berlin Jewry went through some radical changes, which have been described in the earlier chapters of this book. When we attempt to analyze the connections between the seemingly disparate events of the period—the appearance of the Jewish Enlightenment, the movement for religious reform, the crisis of conversion and illegitimacy—we can use various categories of social analysis, including wealth and occupation. Such categories enable the researcher to make some very general and approximate judgments about the interconnections between the events. To arrive at more direct and more clearly provable connections between various types of behavior during the crisis, however, we turn to collective biography and the tracing of family connections. The use of family relationships as a category of analysis proves fruitful for a number of reasons. First, the nature of the surviving documentation as well as the remarkable genealogical studies of Jacob Jacobson1 make it possible to trace the behavior of hundreds of Berlin Jewish families over several generations. In addition, by following the actions of relatives, clear patterns emerge, demonstrating that family relationships were indeed significant in influencing decisions involving both ideological commitment and retention or rejection of Jewish identity. Finally, it stands to reason that the personal influence of the family would have an important effect on ideological and identity decisions that would touch the personal lives of the people making those decisions. The Jewish family has always been viewed as one of the chief instruments for the transmission and survival of the Jewish tradition. It is the family that is responsible for the early education and cultural milieu of its members, and these influences often continue well into adulthood. One of the most characteristic features of the period of crisis in Berlin was that the role of the family in transmitting

152

THE SOCIAL ANALYSIS OF THE CRISIS

tradition underwent great change. In many cases, this basic social institution ceased to be an instrument for preserving tradition and became a conduit for decisions to leave tradition and often to abandon Judaism altogether. Analysis based on tracing personal decisions within family groupings demonstrates two chief ways in which family influences operated during the period of rapid modernization and crisis. First, the analysis shows that, within a single generation, individuals were more likely to share the same ideological commitments as their close relatives. Second, it reveals a correlation between adherence to ideological trends within Judaism and decisions concerning conversion among members of the same family. These correlations are noticeable both within a single generation and between the generations. It turns out that there are significant differences between the identity decisions of the children and grandchildren of "modernizers" (both followers of the Enlightenment and of early religious reform) and decisions of the descendants of those who continued to be traditionalists. By tracing developments among several generations of many Berlin families we can help answer the question that has long divided historians of the Berlin Jewish Enlightenment—did the Enlightenment lead to conversion and assimilation? We can put into perspective the frequently cited case of conversion of the children of Mendelssohn and test whether it is an aberration or typical of a causal connection between Enlightenment and the later wave of baptisms. Following several generations of a family can help determine whether the atmosphere created in the liberal Jewish family was one that discouraged or encouraged those growing up in it to abandon their Jewish ties altogether in the next generation. Such an atmosphere need not imply that the parents intended the "assimilationist" outcome, but collective family analysis can demonstrate whether the influence was at work or not.

Family Patterns of Ideological Commitment When one looks at the family connections of members of the various ideological groupings, as well as those who chose to become Christians, it becomes immediately obvious that family relationships often influenced ideological affiliations. A large percentage of those who chose to subscribe to an Enlightenment book had close relatives who did the same. The same is true about those who attended the reformed temple, belonged to the orthodox burial society, or converted to Christianity. In each case there were not only many cases of parents and children, siblings and in-laws supporting the same ideological grouping, but sometimes whole clans making the same ideological decisions. These clanlike groupings are especially common among prominent families. Of ninety-one subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation who married in Berlin, only thirty-eight did not have a fellow subscriber who was a brother, parent, father-in-law, or brother-in-law. Of the 245 married heads of family listed as attending the reformed service in 1818, at least 83 had another member equally closely related.2 Among the orthodox, too, close family relationships were common. Forty-six of seventy-seven orthodox leaders had such first-degree relatives within their group.

Family, Ideology, and Crisis

153

The tendency for relatives to act similarly to each other is also strikingly illustrated by the conversion patterns in Berlin. Excluding the many converts in Berlin who were not native to the city, we find that at least 113 of the 250 Berlin Jewish residents in 1812 who eventually converted had a sibling, parent, or child who did likewise. In most cases, this is not merely a case of parents converting their young children, but rather of independent decisions by close relatives who had already reached their majority.3 The following patterns were prevalent among the converted relatives: parent (or parents) baptized together with children, parents baptized after some of their children, (more rarely) children baptized after their parents, and several siblings baptized (usually at different times).4 If we look at more extended families, we also notice frequent cases in which cousins, nephews, nieces, and in-laws of converts likewise converted.5 Many families seem to have experienced a kind of "chain conversion" akin to the chain migration often described in literature on immigration. The decision of one family member seems frequently to have induced other relatives to follow his or her example. Many individual cases help to illustrate the pattern of whole extended families joining together to follow an ideological trend or to convert. Among the heads of households at the reformed service in 1818, for example, Samuel Bernsdorff was a member along with his married son, three sons-in-law, a nephew, and a niece's husband. Among the orthodox there were the brothers Israel and Samuel Henoch and their first cousins the brothers Ascher Israel and Joseph Israel Magnus. Often the relationship went through wives as well as husbands. The orthodox Liepmann Simson Liebmann and Israel Joel Sachs were married to two sisters, and Itzig Heimann was married to Liebmann's sister. Other of their relatives by marriage were likewise active in Berlin orthodoxy (see Genealogical Table 1). Among distinguished Berlin Jewish families we can frequently discover adherence to the Enlightenment or conversion spread among most members of a wide clan. Among the descendants of Daniel Itzig, for instance, the following were subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation besides Daniel himself: his sons Isaac, Benjamin, and Moses; his sons-in-law David Friedlander, Samuel Levy, and Benjamin Wulff; and his brother-in-law Isaac Wulff. Dozens of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren converted to Christianity. Almost all the grandchildren of the other wealthy coin millionaires of the Seven Years War—Veitel Heine Ephraim and Moses Isaak—also converted to Christianity.6 Similarly two of the three daughters of Jonas S. Nauen and his wife, Jiska, converted along with their husbands and children (four and five in number, respectively). Another sister who did not convert had three children who did (see Genealogical Table 2). Many other examples could be cited of such patterns, especially among elite families.7 More important than the familial nature of affiliation within various ideologies is the overlap between the various groups. The number of persons who themselves were still affiliated in some way with both modernist and traditionalist parties was less in the 1810s than it had been forty years earlier, and even close family relationships between the parties were not very common. Only seven persons were

Genealogical Table 1. Kinship Patterns among the Orthodox Jews of Berlin Lazarus Beschiitz d. 1737

m.

Sorel (1670-1757)

1 Lebia (1704-1782)

Moses Joel Beschiitz (1733-1819) m. Simcha Jeremias (1744-1785)

Joel Lazarus Beschiitz m. (d. 1774)

1 Hanne (1720-1816) m. Bendix Wolff Goldschmidt (1716-1787)

1 Levin Lazarus Beschiitz (1718-1788)

m.

Golde (1750-1831) m. Liepmann Simson Liebmann* (1759-1834) f

Rahel (d. 1792) m. Joseph Jonas*t (1757-1818)

Hirsch Bendix Goldschmidt (1758-1825)* m. Gelle d. 1809

*Member of burial society. tSigned anti-reform petition. JListed as member of the Beer-Jacobson reform temple.

Bella (1764-1828) m. Benjamin Moses* (1762-1838)

Minkle Joseph

Perle m. Israel Joel Sachs*:): (1762-1848)

1

Heimann Liebmannt (1784-1842)

Sara (1785-1848) m Philipp Hirsch Herforth*t (1775-1833)

Genealogical Table 2. Conversion Patterns in an Extended Family Jonas Salomon Nauen m. Jiska Moses (d. 1795) (d. 1808)

I Gotthold Nauen (1759-1829)R m. Debora (divorced) (d. 1791)

1 Rosette (1762-1823) m. Liebermann Marcus SchlesingerR (1758-1836)

I Gustav (b. 1798) conv. 1817

I Adelheid (b. 1799) conv. 1820

I Dorothea (b. 1792) conv.I I

"Members of Reform service.

I Mariane (b. 1801) conv. 1820

I Wilhelm (b. 1793) 1 conv. I I 1814 I

I Babette (b. 1766) I conv.I 1821 m. Martin Johann Schlesinger (b. 1759) I conv. I | 1821 I I Frederike (b. 1795) conv. I 1816 I

I Johanne (b. 1794) 'conv. I | 1819 |

I Sophie (b. 1771) I conv. 1816 m. Martin Heinrich Mendheim (b. 1767) I conv. | 1816 I I I I Albert Emilie (b. 1798) (b. 1800) conv. conv. [ 1815 I I 18161

I Stephan (b. 1797) I conv.' I 1814 I

I Henriette (b. 1788) I conv. I 1816 m. Sigismund Anton Liebert (b. 1785) conv. 1816

I Wilhelm (b. 1802) conv. I 1815

156

THE SOCIAL ANALYSIS OF THE CRISIS

listed as attending the reformed religious service and also as members of the orthodox burial society or signers of antireform petitions; at least six additional individuals among the orthodox in the 1810s had sons who were reform heads of household.8 No reform heads of household had orthodox children, a sign that orthodoxy was losing ground over the generations. Though the members of the traditionalist burial society were more likely to have traditionalist descendants in the early nineteenth century than were subscribers to the Mendelssohn Bible translation, both groups showed a preponderance of reformers among their descendants.9 A sign of the trend over the generations away from tradition is the fact that only seven of the members of the burial society in 1778 had known orthodox sons, while at least seventeen had sons or daughters in the reform community. It was much less common for the children of Enlighteners or reformers still to be orthodox in the 1810s than for the children of the orthodox to be reformers. The reformers and orthodox seem often to have come from different nuclear families. Nevertheless the reform-orthodox division did split many extended families, though it was generally among more distant relatives (cousins, uncles, aunts). Five orthodox Jews had brothers in the reformed temple and no fewer than twenty had brothers-in-law who were reformers. Twenty orthodox uncles had thirty-five reform nephews or nieces, while only seven orthodox nephews had reform uncles.10 Though only a relatively small number of orthodox had relatives of the first degree among the reformers (children or siblings), perhaps half had some relatives among the reformers (usually a nephew, niece, or cousin).

Conversion Among the Descendants of Liberals and Traditionalists More telling than the relationship between the two ideological parties within Judaism is the relationship between followers of each of the parties and those who converted. Whether one looks at the relationship over the generations, or within a particular generation, one immediately becomes aware of a sharp difference between the orthodox and the liberals (whether pro-Enlightenment or reformers). There was a far greater tendency for the supporters of liberal ideologies to have close relatives (and descendants) who converted than was the case for the orthodox. In fact, the orthodox were more likely to have relatives who were reformers than they were to have relatives who converted to Christianity. Looking at the period of the 1810s within a single generation, we find that the reformers frequently had relatives who converted. Of the 245 male reform heads of household in 1818, at least 13 later converted to Christianity, and at least 42 others had children who converted (a total of over 22 percent).11 In addition several of those who had signed the reform petition of 1812 were no longer listed as members of the reformed service because they had already converted by 1818.12 On the other hand, none of a sample of seventy-seven orthodox converted, and only seven had any children who converted (just about 9 percent).13 The children of reformers also converted at an earlier date and at a younger age than did the converted children of the orthodox.14

Family, Ideology, and Crisis

157

Although reformers were much more apt to have converts in their immediate family than the orthodox, both groups frequently had distant converted relatives. In fact one can document that about half of the members of each group had a converted relative at least as close as a first cousin. There was, however, an important difference between the orthodox and reformers with regard to those adherents who had no converted relatives. Most of the orthodox with no converted relatives as close as a cousin were of Berlin families with many traceable unconverted relatives. About half of the reformers with no known converted relatives were recent migrants from out of town whose family could not be traced. Although orthodox leaders were not unaffected by conversion among their relatives, the converts were less likely to be found within their own household than among reformers and tended to be more distant in relationship.15 The relationship over the generations is even more striking and significant. If we look at the descendants of followers of the Enlightenment and compare them to descendants of members of orthodox organizations in the 1770s we see a very great difference in tendency to convert. One of the subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation later converted, as did the children of at least thirty other of the ninety-two traceable subscribers in Berlin (32 percent).16 Among the members of the pro-Enlightenment Gesellschaft der Freunde, whose founding members were unmarried, the percentage of conversion was even higher.17 By contrast only one member of the burial society of 1778 converted and five of sixty-eight had children who converted (7 percent).18 If one traces one generation further (those children of the burial society members and Mendelssohn subscribers who married in Berlin before 1813), one finds that the differences between the two groups continues with only a slight diminution. Of the children of Mendelssohn subscribers who married Jews in Berlin, ninetythree had no converted children (56 percent), forty-nine had children who converted, and twenty-four (15 percent) later converted themselves. Of the children of burial society members, 121 (80 percent) had no converted children and only 7 (5 percent) later converted themselves (Table 7). Not only did the Enlighteners produce more converted children and grandchildren, but the orthodox had many more descendants who married as Jews and had exclusively Jewish children. From ninety-two traceable Berlin subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation there came only ninety-three children who married other Jews and had no converted children. The smaller number of 68 orthodox produced 121 married children who did not have any converted children of their own. The evidence concerning the children of the Enlighteners and the traditionalists in the 1770s is overwhelming. In families that supported the Enlightenment in the eighteenth century, the percentage of children and grandchildren who later converted far exceeded the figures for those in traditionalist organizations. This would give the impression that there was something in the Enlightenment lifestyle or ideology that eased the transition to conversion. The tendency of certain families to have larger percentages of conversion than others was related not only to ideological tendency but also to wealth. As a group, affluent Jewish taxpayers had a tendency to have a disproportionately high rate of converted descendants quite similar to that of supporters of the Enlightenment. The

158

THE SOCIAL ANALYSIS OF THE CRISIS

TABLE 7.

Relative Rates of Conversion of Descendants by Ideology and Wealth Subscribers to Mendelssohn Bible Translation (1778-1783)

Burial Society Members (1778)

Wealthy Taxpayers*

No conversion, no converted children

61 (66%)

62(91%)

54(61%)

Children converted

30 (32%) 1 (1%)

5 (7%)

27(31%)

1(1%)

5 (6%)

No conversion, no converted children

93 (56%)

121 (80%)

90 (55%)

Children converted

49 (29%)

24(15%)

45 (27%)

Converted themselves

24(15%)

7 (5%)

28(17%)

First Generation

Converted themselves Second Generation~f

*This represents all those who were assessed at 4 Taler or above at any time up to 1789. tChildren marrying in Berlin as Jews.

rate of conversion of descendants of those with tax assessments over 4 Taler was almost identical with rates for Mendelssohn Bible subscribers. The effect of wealth complicates matters, since subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation were much richer than the traditionalists in the burial society. Within each ideological grouping, too, wealthier families were more likely to have converted descendants than less affluent ones. Wealthier subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation had a higher rate of children converting to Christianity (45 percent) than those who were less wealthy. Of the five members of the burial society who had children who later converted, three were in the over 4 Taler tax bracket. In the case of one wealthy member of the burial society, Nathan Liepmann who died in 1791, virtually all his descendants, many of them married into distinguished Berlin families, were prominent among the early converts to Christianity (Genealogical Table 3).19 Orthodoxy of the parents alone did not prevent conversion of the children in every case. If we look at other types of affiliation with orthodox organizations in the late eighteenth century we also find that wealth played a role. Among the trustees of the Beth Hamidrash (Talmud study association), who were on average considerably richer than the burial society members, the percentage of those with converted children was much higher (20 percent), while among the even poorer wardens of traditional charities20 the percentage was about the same as for the burial society (8 percent).21 This distinction between conversion rates of wealthy and poorer orthodox continued to be noticeable in the third generation as well.22 Although wealth did have an influence in addition to family ideology in determining the rate of conversion within families, ideology still had considerable impact when we control for wealth. Although the wealthiest group of burial society members have a similar conversion rate to the less wealthy subscribers to Mendelssohn's

Genealogical Table 3. Conversions among the Descendants of Nathan Liepmann Nathan Liepmann (d. 1791) (officer of burial society) 1

|

m.

I

Sara Veitel (d. 1805) |

I

I

Vogelchen Isaac Nathanael Wolff Nathan Liman (Abraham) Hendel (Hirsch) (Fanny Solmar) Christian Liman b. 1763) Carl August Liman (1772- ) Heinrich Nicolas Liman (1761-1827) (1762-1819) m. (1767-1839) m. (1772-1839) convTj Zerlinei 1st I conv. I 2nd. Philippine Roschen Schlesinger I conv. I Marcus Theodor m. 18171 Moses marr. [ 18091 marr. Herz (d.1803) | 18091 Robert-Tomow Emilie Caspar m. (d. 1790) 3rd wife m. (1772- ) (1774-1842) Salomon Nathan, Jr. 1 Amalie Detroit (Fradchen) (1737-1817) von Winterfeld Auguste Friederike Marcuse I conv. I I 1809[ Henriette Solmar (1794) | 1 | 1 conv. I Wilhelmine Friederike Christian August Ludwig Theodore Liman Ferdinand Heinrich Wilhelmine I Liman Liman conv. Liman Ernestine Liman (1793) (1794- ) I 18091 (1793- ) (1794- ) I conv. I I conv. I conv. I I conv. |l816| |18251 [ 1809[ 1816

i

Carl Eduard Liman (1782) conv.l 18151

'

r

Leopold Christian Liman (1784- ) I conv. I j18241

i

Henriette Louise Liman (1787-1824) Iconv. |1813 m. August Wilhelm Leffmann (b. 1776) conv. 1809

160

THE SOCIAL ANALYSIS OF THE CRISIS

Bible translation, the rate of conversions in the same income range still differs considerably.23 Organizational affiliation is not the only indication of the ideology or atmosphere of a home. Religious practice is at least as important an indication of the type of upbringing being given. The children of those who paid the kosher meat tax were much more likely to remain Jewish than the children of those whose parents did not pay the kosher meat tax. (In this case wealth is not a factor, since those paying the tax were no poorer than those who did not.) Among Jews who attended the reformed service and also paid the kosher meat tax, one later converted and about 25 percent had children who converted. Among those reform Jews who did not buy kosher meat, almost half had children who converted.24 Although the degree of observance within the reform families was an extremely important differentiating factor in the proportion of conversion among their children, there was still a difference that can be attributed to the ideological factor alone. The conversion rate of children of reformed service attenders who kept kosher (27 percent) was still over three times that of orthodox persons who paid the kosher meat tax (8 percent). In summary we can see that the three factors of wealth, ideological commitment, and home religious practice had a cumulative effect on the tendency to leave the Jewish community. Wealth in itself was a contributing factor, but, among those with equal wealth, those committed to the Enlightenment or religious reform had a higher percentage of conversion among their descendants than those committed to orthodoxy. Even among those affiliated with the modernist ideological trends, those who retained traditional religious practice were less susceptible to apostasy than those who abandoned such rituals.

Conversion of Children and Desires of Their Parents The statistical correlations are all in the nature of circumstantial evidence, which shows that the children of the orthodox were less likely to convert than the children of reformers but does not tell us anything about motivation. In the case of those children of reformers who were baptized before the age of eighteen, it is clear that the parents influenced the decision. In quite a few cases in which the parents did not themselves convert, they decided that their children's lives would be easier if they were brought up as Christians.25 In such cases it is clear that the reform parents were quite content with their child's conversion. In the case of children converting after they reached independence, however, the attitudes of the parents are not as clear. Perhaps we can assume that although most reform parents probably opposed conversion, they were less adamant in their opposition than were orthodox parents. This is difficult to verify in the absence of direct evidence. The only indirect evidence we have is information about whether the children waited until after their parents' death before taking the step of conversion. This is a common motif in the literature on the Taufepidemic. In the cases of both Henriette Herz and Rahel Varnhagen, they are said to have waited until after the death of

Family, Ideology, and Crisis

161

their "still orthodox mother" until they converted.26 In any case an analysis of the comparative baptismal dates of those on the 1812 Berlin Jewish list who later converted and the death dates of their parents shows there were more converts with both parents deceased than with both parents alive. In about one-third of the cases one parent was alive at the time of the child's baptism and the other was deceased.27 Children of reformers who converted were somewhat more likely to have parents alive at the time of conversion than did children of the orthodox who converted.28 There are only a small number of cases in which the conversion took place within a year of the death of a parent. Only those few cases are indications that persons avoided baptism out of respect for parents. Of these cases only one involves a parent affiliated with the orthodox leadership. Among the others was the son of the archreformer David Friedlander who was baptized within two months of his father's death.29 The evidence based on whether individuals waited till their parents died to convert is less clear than the statistical differences in conversion among the children of modernists and traditionalists. There was a slightly greater tendency for converts from reformist families to change their religion while their parents were alive than was true among converts from traditionalist families. This pattern is, however, by no means absolute. Although we can gather that there may have been a slightly decreased tendency to oppose violently the conversion of children in reform families, this tendency is not very obvious or consistent. Perhaps the general upbringing the children in "liberal" families received had more influence on their later tendency to convert than any difference in the attitudes toward conversion of their parents compared to anticonversion feelings among the orthodox. In the absence of abundant personal accounts the motivations that explain why those in liberal families were much more likely to convert will remain elusive. The overall pattern found from an analysis of the family relationships between the followers of ideological trends in Judaism and the later converts, despite the qualifications stated previously, still seems clear. The reformers and Enlighteners were much more likely to have converts among their descendants and other relatives than the orthodox. Even after looking at other contributing factors like gender and wealth, this pattern seems to hold. The discovery of a definite and clear-cut distinction between the way the children of traditionalists and modernizers reacted to pressures for conversion would seem on the surface to support those opponents of Enlightenment and reform who blame these movements for assimilation. A closer analysis of the phenomenon will show that this simplistic explanation is far from the only possible one. Other possible explanations, including the absence of a meaningful alternative to tradition, and a generational progression from orthodoxy through liberalism to apostasy, will be considered in detail in the concluding chapter of this study. Although the difference in patterns of conversion between traditionalists and modernizers is extremely clear, the interpretation of these facts remains open to conflicting views —views that parallel the ideological distinctions between the two parties.

14 Was the Experience of Women Different from Men's Experience?

Besides differences in conversion patterns based on wealth and on ideological affiliations of the various families, gender differences played a vital and frequently noticed part in the unfolding of the revolutionary changes affecting Berlin Jewry. The role of women in the salons and in the wave of conversions has been a frequent theme in the writings of Jewish historians.1 This is in marked contrast to the rarity of concentration by historians on women's roles in most other crucial episodes in Jewish history. The analysis of the role played by women in the various aspects of the crisis of Berlin Jewry requires attention to two main issues. First, were women really noticeably different in their behavior from men? Second, if there are noticeable differences, what were the factors that caused women and men to react dissimilarly to the challenges of the age?

Women's and Men's Behavior During the Crisis: The Salons and Romanticism Women's role in the salons was a clear case of female predominance. Jewish men not only were fewer in number than Jewish women in salon society, but they also had less influence on the atmosphere at the salon gatherings. The main participants in the salons were Jewish women and Christian men. Among elite, modernizing Jewish men and women, there seemed to be a kind of unspoken division of activities. Jewish women with intellectual interests gravitated toward the informal salons and toward the Romantic movement, while Jewish men joined formal organizations and movements and adhered, in the main, to the Enlightenment, even after it began to go out of fashion among leading Christian thinkers. The contrast between males adhering to the Enlightenment and women being

The Experience of Women

163

attracted to Romanticism is frequently mentioned in descriptions of events in Jewish intellectual circles. The contrast between the tone in the circles of Markus Herz and his wife, Henriette, has already been mentioned. On several occasions, Markus joked about his wife's interest in Romantic or Sturm und Drang literature, which he found simply incomprehensible.2 Henriette Herz's memoirs state in several places that Jewish men were more attracted to philosophy, while women were more attracted to literature.3 A letter by Sara von Grotthuss (nee Meyer) to Goethe in 1797 likewise contrasts the rationalist man and the Romanticist woman. In the letter she relates how Moses Mendelssohn had caught her with a copy of Goethe's Sturm und Drang novel The Sorrows of Young Werther and had thrown the offending volume out the window.4 Although there were a few Jewish men in the Romanticist salon groups,5 they were certainly far less numerous than the many Berlin Jewish men who wrote works in the rationalist mode. All our evidence of this dichotomy between pro-Enlightenment males and proRomanticist females comes from the small elite circle of Jewish intellectuals. The extent to which this division played a part in the actions or thoughts of ordinary Berlin Jews is impossible to determine. The seeming preference of women for the emotional power of the Romantic movement while men remained stolid Enlighteners may be related to the difference in their overall activities.6 Especially among the Berlin Jewish elite (though less so among the Jewish rank and file), women were not actively involved in economic activity. This gave them more time for leisure pursuits including the arts and literature. Jewish men, on the other hand, including those in the elite, were generally involved in commerce. The talents needed for success in commercial fields included the rational weighing of alternatives, keeping careful records, and maintaining a sense of realism and practicality. The training and daily activities of commerce may have been factors that restrained Jewish men from involvement in the Romantic movement. If this explanation is accurate, then the difference is not one between traditionalist men and modernizing women, but between men who modernized through rationalism and women (at least elite women) who modernized through Romanticism. This would lead us to expect women's break from tradition to come in more personalistic ways, whereas men's split from tradition came in an institutional way. That may be the reason why historians' treatments of men's activities in the period center on the Enlightenment, religious reform, and the creation of new institutions, while those dealing with women concentrate on the salons, love affairs, and conversion to Christianity. Because the activities of women were not susceptible to institutionalization they seemed more anarchic and more of a threat to Jewish continuity. Women's and Men's Behavior during the Crisis: Illegitimacy In descriptions of the crisis of Berlin Jewry, Jewish women are often said to have had a disproportionate role, not only in the salons and support for Romanticism,

164

THE SOCIAL ANALYSIS OF THE CRISIS

but also in the tendency to engage in extramarital affairs and to convert to Christianity. Many historians have extrapolated from the well-known cases of conversion and love affairs among the women of the salons to assume that Jewish women in general were especially prone to such activities. A closer look at the personal choices of women and men shows that even in the two fields where women's activities seem most obvious—romance and conversion—their predominance has been exaggerated. Only in the salons and in the Romantic movement is the predominance of women obvious and uncontradicted. When it comes to love affairs out of marriage and to conversion, women's share in the phenomenon is certainly very important, but quantitative data show it to be far less overwhelming than some historical treatments have tended to claim. The general image given by the literature portrays a passionate Jewish woman, perhaps already married and unhappy with a dull Jewish husband, engaged in a romantic affair with a Christian, perhaps a nobleman.7 Such cases certainly were common enough, but it is inaccurate to imagine that Jewish women were so very much more likely to have affairs than men. An analysis of the data on illegitimate children both of mixed couples and of purely Jewish ones does not show a pattern of predominance of Jewish women among those involved in extramarital affairs—quite the contrary. In fact, a look at the peak period of illegitimate births to mixed couples (1780 to 1805) shows that the number of illegitimate children born to Jewish men and Christian women (ninety) far outnumbers the fifty-three born to Christian men and Jewish women.8 Although the number of out-of-wedlock children born to Jewish men far exceeded those born to Jewish women, these figures somewhat exaggerate the Jewish male role in interreligious affairs. First of all, illegitimate children of Jewish fathers are the majority only during the peak years of illegitimacy. In later years Jewish women outnumber Jewish men among such parents.9 In the case of illegitimacy, therefore, men seem to have been the pioneers, followed by the women (the opposite of what we will see in regard to conversion). Second, the patterns of the relationships that produced illegitimate children differed between men and women. Jewish men were more likely to have larger numbers of out-of-wedlock children and to delay marrying their mistresses until after all their children were born. Thus we have examples of Jewish men and Christian women with five, seven, and even eleven children out of wedlock.10 Jewish women, on the other hand, were much more likely to convert and marry their lovers after only a few children; often they had further children after their conversion.11 Because of this, the number of Jewish fathers of illegitimate children was much smaller than the number of children they fathered out of wedlock. Twenty-one couples of Jewish men and Christian women who eventually married had fifty children before marriage, while fifteen similar couples of Christian men and Jewish women had only twenty-two children before marriage.12 Among those who never married the parents of their illegitimate children, men outnumber women only by seventy-four to fifty in the period before 1806.13 In addition to this, there were a number of Jewish children born out of wedlock to Jewish women who were never baptized. This could legally happen only if the father was also Jewish or if his identity was unreported. The number of such

Portrait of Moses Mendelssohn by Johann Christoph Frisch, c. 1780. Courtesy of Dr. Cecile Lowenthal-Hensel, Berlin.

Traditional German Jewish costume (worn by men outside the synagogue of Fiirth; women are dressed in contemporary non-Jewish style), c. 1800. The men are wearing the sleeveless cloak (Schulmantel or Sarbal), the starched collar or ruff, and the barett. Courtesy of the Jewish Museum, London.

Veitel Heine Ephraim's mansion on the Muhlendamm (at right). Engraving by Finden based on a drawing by Stock, c. 1840. Courtesy of Bildarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin.

Cup and saucer with portrait of Isaac Daniel Itzig and view of his estate, the Bartholdi Meierei, c. 1795. Courtesy of Berlin Museum.

David Friedlander (1750-1834) in old age. Note the oversize black skullcap. Portrait by Julius Hiibner. Lithograph by Johann Sprich. Courtesy of Bildarchiv der Oesterreichischen Nationalbibliothek, Vienna.

Ephraim Marcus Ephraim (?) (1716-1776) of Berlin. Note the combination of the traditional Jewish beard and the nontraditional wig and lack of a hat. Courtesy of Jewish Museum/Art Resource, New York, and of Werner Wittkower, Herzlia, Israel.

Rebecca Itzig in stylish late eighteenth-century coiffure and hat. Courtesy of Leo Baeck Institute, New York. The hostel for the Jewish poor outside the Rosenthal Gate of Berlin. Drawing by L. L. Miiller, 1807. Original in the Kupferstichkabinett, SMPK, Berlin. Courtesy of the Bildarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin. Reetzengasse—1831. A street in Alt Berlin inhabited by many poor Jews. Painting by Eduard Gartner. Originally published in Georg Holmsten, Die Berlin-Chronik. Daten, Personen, Dokumente, 1984. Courtesy of Droste Verlag, Dusseldorf.

Portrait of the saloniere Henrietta Herz (1764-1846) in mythological Greek garb by Anna Dorothea Therbusch, 1778. Courtesy of Staatliche Museen zu Berlin—Preussischer Kulturbesitz—Nationalgallerie.

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children may have equaled the number born to mixed couples. In the majority of cases a Jewish father is recorded (though this is not true in eleven of the thirty births between 1813 and 1815). It is possible that in some cases these unnamed fathers were Christians. Even after taking all these factors into consideration we are still left with the fact that at least as many Jewish men had illegitimate children as Jewish women especially during the years before 1805. One must then explain why the perception at the time and by later Jewish historians pictured Jewish women as the chief libertines and not Jewish men. Some of the explanation comes from the nature of the situation and some from conventional attitudes toward women. It was possible for a man to hide the fact that he had a mistress and illegitimate children, but a woman could not hide the fact that she bore a child out of wedlock. It is possible, therefore, that the Jewish community might not have been aware of all the cases of Jewish men with Christian lovers. The father could get away with payment of support for the baby in many cases and not have his personal life interfered with. One also has the impression that some of the children were simply placed in orphanages and not taken care of by the couple. In any case there was an unusually high infant mortality rate among illegitimate children. Since according to Jewish religious law, children of Jewish men and Christian women were not Jewish to begin with, the Jewish community may not have thought much about the baptism of such children. On the other hand, the children of Jewish women and Christian men would be considered Jewish and the Jewish community might have seen the baptism of such children as a major tragedy. In addition to these factors, it is clear that one of the factors influencing the fact that contemporary reports and belles-lettres as well as later historical accounts emphasized women's extramarital affairs was the traditional "double standard." Sexual activity outside of marriage was considered a much more serious offense for a woman than for a man. In Jewish tradition only relations with a married woman but not with a married man were considered adultery. The libertinage of Jewish men was thus considered less important and shocking than that of women. Women's and Men's Behavior during the Crisis: Conversion When it comes to patterns of conversion, the evidence uncovered by Deborah Hertz shows that women were indeed the "pioneers" of the wave of conversions. In the period 1770 to 1806, women were the majority of those converted. In later years men not only equaled but far exceeded women in the number of conversions. Hertz also showed that women were especially predominant among those baptized between the ages of twenty and thirty and concluded that women converted in order to make themselves better candidates for marriage to Christians, while men converted mainly for career reasons. The overall figures for baptisms in Berlin shown by the Judenkartei in fact far underestimate the degree to which women predominated in the pre-1806 wave of baptisms. This is because the vast majority of those listed in the Judenkartei for

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that period were the illegitimate children of mixed couples among whom females were only in a slight majority.14 Among adults who were baptized, the predominance of women in the early period of the wave of baptisms is especially striking. Among those aged twenty to twenty-nine years of age, women were over 70 percent in the period 1770 to 1805, slightly below 50 percent between 1806 and 1819, and a mere 33 percent of those listed between 1820 and 1830.15 Among those baptized at age thirty or above, men were in the absolute majority in all periods. Among teenagers aged sixteen to nineteen, males and females were evenly balanced in the periods before 1820, but males outnumbered females by five to one in the 1820s.16 Several things about these figures are particularly striking. First is the fact that (before 1806) women were most numerous among young adults of marriageable age. Second is the fact of the rapid disappearance of female predominance among young adult converts in the second and third decades of the nineteenth century. Both facts are associated with issues involving the motivations for conversion and the differences between male and female motivations. There is considerable evidence that women's conversion was very frequently related to marriage, extramarital love affairs, or family pressures, while men were more likely to be swayed by career considerations (although marriage and romance were factors for men too). This did not mean by any means, however, that either gender operated in a homogeneous manner in the wave of conversions. The women who predominated in the early phases of the Taufepidemie differed from each other in many significant ways. There actually seems to be at least two subgroups among the women who predominated among the early converts. One group was made up of women of fairly modest backgrounds who were involved in one way or another in romantic affairs with Christians; the other is a group of elite Jewish women who often married into the nobility. Most of the women who are listed in the baptismal records before 1806 were from out of town. Many of them married Christian men after their baptisms. Despite the fact that the era of female predominance in conversions coincides with the peak of mixed-religion illegitimacy, seemingly only a minority of these marriages were undertaken to legitimize an out-of-wedlock child. Perhaps one in seven of adult female converts before 1806 converted to marry the father of their illegitimate children.17 In part this is offset by a substantial (though smaller) number of men converting to legitimize their offspring.18 An analysis of female baptisms shows that the close relationship between female baptism and subsequent marriage suggested by Hertz was indeed a fact. However, it was not merely that women converted in order to make themselves more eligible for later intermarriage as Hertz proposes. In many, perhaps most cases, the marriage was already planned at the time of the conversion, which then merely removed the last obstacle. Of a sample of forty-two Jewish women known to have married after their conversions between 1770 and 1826, twenty married within three months of their baptism. The pattern for men who married "out" was only slightly less direct.19 The pattern in such cases is clear. Baptism was the precondition of a marriage already planned. Sometimes the baptism and the marriage were within a few days

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of each other. In several cases, it is clear that the bride-to-be was pregnant at the time. This information leads to the conclusion that quite a few baptisms took place because of a previous liaison between a Jew and a non-Jewish lover even in cases where no out-of-wedlock children had yet been born. The predominance of women converts over men was at least as noticeable in leading Berlin families who converted in the late eighteenth century as it was among the more modest women from out of town who converted in the city. Most of these women converted outside of Berlin, sometimes in secret. Although there are early cases of prestigious men converting and marrying out of the faith, these were less common or striking than those of women. In several of these elite families in which both men and women eventually converted, the women were the first to take the step. This was true in the case of the children of Moses Isaac-Fliess where the daughters Bliimchen and Rebecca converted in 1780, but the brothers converted in 1787 and 1804.20 Similarly Sara and Marianne, two daughters of Aron Moses Meyer and grandchildren of Veitel Heine Ephraim, were converted without prior instruction in 1788, forced by parental pressure to return to Judaism, and then converted again in 1797 and married noblemen. They died as Frau von Grotthuss and Frau von Eybenberg. Their brothers converted to Christianity many years later.21 This phenomenon of the sisters converting before the brothers and marrying into the nobility was found mainly in the last two decades of the eighteenth century among the elite. Later, sisters were less likely to take the "pioneering step" in the family. The curious fact that Jewish men were the pioneers as parents of out-of-wedlock children, but that women were the pioneers in conversion and marrying out may be related to different attitudes toward marriage. For Jewish women, bearing an out-of-wedlock child might have been viewed as more disgraceful than conversion. They therefore tended to convert early in an interreligious affair, or even before the interreligious affair was consummated. Jewish men, on the other hand, whose romantic affairs could be more easily hidden, would be more hesitant to take the public step of conversion, which would cut them off from their community. These factors seemed to be operative especially in the years before 1806, though they were far less evident in later years. The pioneering role of women in conversions within families and their numeric predominance over male converts were generally reversed after the first few years of the nineteenth century. The association between female conversion and subsequent marriage was also somewhat reduced. Virtually all those who converted in their twenties before 1820 were single. In the 1820s, however, over 20 percent of female converts in their twenties were married (as were 3 percent of males). Quite a few of the conversions after 1800 involved married couples or even whole families. In such cases women often converted as part of a family group. Baptismal records show about thirty such cases in the first three decades of the nineteenth century. In some cases, however, baptism either led to divorce or did not involve both spouses. In the family conversions of the nineteenth century, the relative roles of men and women seem to have reversed. Women were no longer the pioneers within the family. In fact, in a number of cases it was the woman, not the man, who

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remained Jewish, or at least held out longer. The same is true about baptisms among siblings. One example of this phenomenon is found among the descendants of Salomon Abraham Leffmann (died 1808). One of Leffmann's daughters, Betty, married Isaac Dann in 1802. Dann converted in 1811 along with the couple's three children. His wife did not convert at the time. Her brother August Wilhelm Leffmann had already converted in 1809. Dann's brother Jacob had also been baptized earlier (in 1806). Betty Leffmann Dann eventually followed the examples of her brother, husband, children, and brother-in-law and accepted baptism in 1815. Another example is the case of Henriette Liman. Liman was married to the August Leffmann mentioned above who converted in 1809. Her own father, Isaac Nathanael Liman, also converted in the same year, as did one of her uncles. Henriette, however, divorced her husband in 1812 and remained Jewish. By 1813, though, she converted and married her cousin also named Liman who had also converted (see Genealogical Table 4). In the case of Betty Dann mentioned previously, a government document states that she is "not ready for baptism because her old mother is still alive."22 This motivation, while probably authentic enough, does not seem to have affected Betty's brother August Wilhelm Leffmann. In any case, Betty Dann did not wait for the death of her aged mother, who lived until 1821. Hesitation to convert out of respect for an aged mother is documented in several cases, mainly of famous women, among them Henriette Herz. It is possible that this hesitation was less common among sons. Conversion followed by intermarriage was a means for elite Jewish women to raise their status even higher and enter the nobility. Such attempts to ally themselves with or to enter the nobility were also to be found among men. But the men's situation was somewhat different. First, if a woman married a nobleman, she generally acquired his name and title and could pass it down to her children. On the other hand, a man marrying a noblewoman gained neither her title nor her name. In a much later period, Werner E. Mosse has demonstrated that women of converted families had a much easier time of intermarrying with Gentiles than did converted males, at least in part because of the name change.23 This is an ironic reversal of Jewish tradition, which assumes that religious status follows the mother.24

Gender and Sincere Religious Conversion One motivation that would seem natural, though it has not yet been discussed, is sincere religious faith. Some writers have connected the conversion, especially of women, to sincere beliefs associated with Romantic religious theories. The theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher, one of the chief theoreticians of the Romantic school of religious faith, was closely associated with several Jewish salon women. It is always difficult to assess the sincerity of professions of faith, especially when expressed in applications for conversion. We do know of a number of Jewish converts in the period under study who did become sincere and even pious Christians. Expressions of sincere Christian piety can be found from both male and female converts. Still there is quite a bit of evidence that would lead one to

Genealogical Table 4. Delay in Female Conversions in the Leffmann Family Salomon Abraham Leffmann (d. 1808)

m.

Jachet (nee Riess) (1745-1821)

Recha Jente Roschen Pessel Edel Susanna Hanna (1769-1851) (d. 1809) (1771-1798) (1772-1825) (d. 1805) (1774-1851) (d. 1839) m. m. m. m. m. m. 2nd wife 1.) Hirsch Nathan Dietrich /K\ Salomon Kalkstein Meyer Caspar Jochen Heinrich of Moritz Wallach (1771-1831) Abraham Jaffe (1770-1803) Moritz Wallach Salomon (d. 1793) 2.) Esaias Helfft (1763-1828) Kalkstein (1768-1839) (1775^1835) (1762- 1840) (1771-1831) ©

daug iter (b. 1789) conv. 1833

son (b. 1798) conv. 1828

daughter conv. 1824 son c:onv. 1827

conv 181 = conv. 1811

©

Orthodox relatives

/K\ Members of the Reform service

Miriam (b. 1780) m. Siegfried Imberg (1775-1850) A

daughter conV. 183 1

Betty m. Isaac Uann (b. 1770) Abraham (August Wilhelm) Leffmann conv 3 children (b. 1776) 1809 converted m. (divorced 1810) 1811 Henriette Liepmann (Liman) conv. (1787-1824) 1813

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believe that religious conviction was not one of the most common reasons for conversion between 1780 and 1830.25 In the cases of persons we know who eventually became pious Christians, there is considerable evidence that many discovered their deep faith quite a bit after their conversion, which was often for more mundane reasons. There seems to be little difference in this regard between women and men. The assumption based on the greater tendency toward Romanticism among women than among men that, therefore, women were more likely to convert out of sincere faith than men does not seem to be supported. A few examples of famous pious converts show similar male and female patterns. Dorothea Mendelssohn made many statements of piety especially after her conversion from Protestantism to Catholicism in 1806. Some of them are tinged with an anti-Jewish nuance.26 Similarly strong statements were made by Dorothea's sister Henriette and by Dorothea's son Philipp Veil.27 In all the cases of the Mendelssohn conversions, however, the initial conversion was otherwise motivated. Dorothea converted to marry her lover, Friedrich Schlegel, on the same day as her conversion. Henriette, who was originally a rationalist, also did not become pious till years after her conversion. A similar scenario was also the case of many male converts later known for their piety. Johann August Wilhelm Neander (born David Mendel) eventually became a pious church historian although before his conversion he had shown antipathy toward Christian beliefs. The reason for his conversion was purely practical: a formerly Jewish doctor offered to underwrite Mendel's university study on the condition of his conversion. It was only after his conversion that he read works of Christian piety that turned him from a nominal to a believing Christian.28 Women's and Men's Influence in Ideological Affiliation Besides looking at differences in the behavior of males and females in various aspects of the modernization process in Berlin, it would appear useful to attempt to assess the extent to which men and women had influence over the ideological decisions of their family members. While "there is no direct evidence from personal accounts about who in the family was most influential, one can make certain inferences from statistical patterns. In most cases where only one parent was alive at the time of baptism, it was most commonly the mother. This as well as various other pieces of evidence would seem to indicate that the mother's views were less respected or feared than the father's. Compared to the relative influences on conversion, evidence concerning family relations within ideological groupings, and between them within Judaism, show less male predominance in decision making. Within family groups the female line often plays as great a role as the male line. Even among the orthodox, where we would least expect it, we find that relationships through the female line were about as common as through the male line.29 Among reform Jews, relationships through the female line seem to have been even more common than relationships through the male line.30

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If we compare these relationships within each group to the relationships between the different groups we find that it was rare for the orthodox to have brothers who were reformers but common for them to have brothers-in-law in the reform congregation.31 Whereas among the orthodox, sisters were more likely to be found outside the group than in it, among reformers, sisters predominated both among the siblings who were in the same ideological camp as well as those in the opposite camp. There does not seem to be similar evidence that daughters of either orthodox or reformers were more likely to convert than were sons.32 It would seem from this that daughters were more likely to abandon orthodoxy than sons, but (at least in the post-1818 period) less likely to leave Judaism altogether. Although women seem less likely to have perpetuated their family ideological traditions than did men, there were many cases in which the woman's orientation held considerable weight. Differences in Education as an Explanation for Gender Differences A common explanation given for women's greater prominence in the salons and among the "pioneers" of conversion was the differences in women and men's educational and religious experiences. As is well known, Jewish women did not have any role in the Jewish religious service except as passive participants in the women's balcony. Men were trained in advanced Jewish texts, while women were excluded from studying them. On the other hand, it had become customary in the course of the eighteenth century in wealthy Jewish families to teach girls such elegant skills as dancing, French, and music. Many Jewish girls in the late eighteenth century also had access to German belles lettres in public libraries or their parents' own collections. Jewish women were frequently complimented for their general culture, their ability as conversationalists, and their social graces. Some observers commented on the contrast between the social abilities of Jewish women and the clumsy backwardness of many men. One observer wrote in 1792, "Education [Erziehung] is the reason why the female sex among the Jews is better looking and better educated [wohlgebildeter] than the male and that side by side with the ugly and dirty boy you find the neatest and prettiest girl."33 Although this factor probably played some role in the conspicuous role of the salon women and the seemingly greater adjustment to Gentile society of women compared to men, its influence has often been overstated. First of all, the contrast between the vivacious, educated woman and the clumsy, boorish, uneducated man is often overdrawn or a mere stereotype. There was, after all, a vibrant Enlightenment movement among Jewish men that produced a number of important intellectuals writing either in Hebrew or German. Many Jewish men in Berlin were reaching beyond the traditional ways and finding new outlets for their talents. Besides, in the late eighteenth century with the decline of the traditional yeshivas, many Jewish men received little more Jewish education than the women. Women's Jewish education was also not necessarily as rudimentary as sometimes claimed. Henriette

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Herz, for instance, claimed the ability to deal fluently with the Biblical text in Hebrew.34 The difference between men's and women's backgrounds is therefore not merely a matter of the women's lack of Jewish education and the men's lack of secular knowledge. Although the difference in education of the two sexes probably had some effect, it was far from the whole story. The contrast is not simply between prematurely modernized women and backward men. Rather it is a contrast between two different forms of modernization. Whereas men's modernization seemed to be directed into institutionalized form in clubs, publications, and the reform movement, women's modernization was focused on individual and informal activity and changes in personal lifestyle. Explanations for Gender Differences: Male and Female Institutional Outlets Much of the contemporary and later literature focused on the role of women, whether as showy visitors to the theater, promenaders with non-Jewish men, or hostesses for the leading literary salons in Berlin. The very conspicuousness of the social activities of prominent Jewish women is, however, a reflection of their very limited organizational outlets for sociability. A look at the organizational structure of the Berlin Jewish community demonstrates strikingly to what extent Jewish men had a host of formal organizations in which they could socialize, do business, or engage in communal service, whereas women did not. This was true both of traditional Jewish men within charitable and communal organizations of the Jewish community, and pro-Enlightenment and nontraditional men in merchants' organizations or men's clubs. Despite the social barriers that existed between Jews and Gentiles, some Jewish men were able to join mixed organizations as well. Jewish merchants could be admitted to organizations like the Korporation der Berliner Kaufmannschaft, or more specific organizations like the Verein der Lederhandler. Some distinguished Jewish men were able to join mixed intellectual societies like the Wednesday Society or the Philomatische Gesellschaft.35 Virtually none of this applied to women. Even in areas that one might think of as areas of traditional feminine interest, like charity work, there were virtually no Jewish women's organizations. In answering a governmental inquiry in 1811 the Jewish community of Berlin listed twenty Jewish charitable organizations. Only one, the Chevras Noshim (women's association), headed by the wife of one of the city's assistant rabbis, Hirsch Landsberger, was not a men-only organization.36 Even the "modernist" Gesellschaft der Freunde and Briiderverein were clubs of unmarried men, which did not permit women to join.37 The society for dowries for Jewish brides, cofounded by Moses Mendelssohn, likewise had only male members. Of the foundations provided by last wills and testaments listed separately in 1811, two—the Dina Nauen Cohn Stiftung for education of orphans and the Edel Rintel family fund-—were in the name of a woman.38 A number of women were also listed among the Jewish school directors in Berlin in 1812.39

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Women's activities were almost never recorded in Jewish communal records. Tax lists mentioned only husbands' names. Widows were virtually the only women listed and then only as "widow of Abraham Krotoschin," etc., not with their own names. Women's names were often omitted even in marriage lists where the bride was frequently listed only as "daughter of. . . ." The degree to which women's activities were excluded from official organization and even official communal recognition, while typical of all traditional Jewish communities, was much greater than that in nineteenth and twentieth century traditional Jewish communities when women's charitable organizations were more common. The lack of formal organizations for Jewish women, and the lack of direct participation in the affairs of the Jewish community, may have been a factor that led many Berlin Jewish women into a type of activity by which they gained the moralistic criticism of many observers—conspicuous consumption. Wolf Davidson's description of "certain Jewish ladies, whom I need not name, with their conspicuous clothing, their screaming colors and high feathers, [who] . . . take over the front seats in the front boxes in order to capture the eyes of all by force" is a good example of the type of criticism some Jewish women earned. Although conspicuous consumption by Jewish men was certainly not uncommon either, it was the actions of Jewish women that were most noticed.40 In the salons, the lack of social outlets for women within the Jewish institutional structure also played a role. The salon was an informal means to express both the social and intellectual ambitions of a small number of elite women. Ironically it was the informality of the salons that led to their success. Elite Jewish women who had almost no organizations of their own could gain prominence through an "uninstitutionalized institution." Early Arranged Marriages as an Explanation of Conversion Some historians have looked at the patterns of Jewish women converting and marrying Gentiles and have attributed the women's actions to the traditional Jewish pattern of arranged marriages at an early age. In fact when one looks at some of the most famous cases of conversion, which involved both divorces from Jewish husbands and marriages to Christians, we do find that the women had been involved in an arranged marriage at an early age. Moses Mendelssohn's daughter Brendel (Dorothea) was married off at age nineteen to Simon Veil whom she left fifteen years later when she met Friedrich Schlegel. The later Marianne von Eybenberg and Sara von Grotthuss also seem to have married as teenagers before divorcing their husbands and marrying Christian noblemen. Rebecca Saaling, who married David Friedlander's son Moses when she was nineteen, soon divorced him and eventually converted. In analyzing these cases we must make some important distinctions. It is probably true, though there is no way of verifying it, that most Jewish marriages in this period were arranged by the parents. Certainly in most cases a dowry was involved and there were carefully negotiated financial agreements between the families. In most Jewish communities this does not seem to have been the cause

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of much friction during this period. In Berlin, it is likely that the contrast between such arrangements and the free romantic attachments preached in the literature of the day did come into conflict with the marriages arranged by family. Although the assumption of arranged marriages is reasonable, it turns out that the other part of the assumption, namely, that Jewish women were married off as young girls, is not true for the bulk of Jewish families in Berlin. As a matter of fact, age at marriage varied tremendously by class. The average age at marriage for Jewish women in eighteenth century Berlin was twenty-four (and thirty-one for men). It was only in very rich families or families with the most favorable legal status that early marriages were frequent.41 There was indeed a connection between early arranged marriage and later conversion, but this connection was more or less restricted to the Jewish elite. Women in the salons, for instance, had an average marriage age that was six years younger than that of Berlin Jewish women overall.42 The Jewish families that were marrying off their children very early were not observing typical Jewish customs. Rather they were following the practices of wealthy families that were both more anxious to arrange "dynastic marriage," which would keep the wealth and the business ties in the family, and more able to do so because marriage restrictions weighed on them less heavily. It is not surprising that in some of the families in which marriage was very young, the couples would later break up. In other cases the couples who married young stayed together but were more likely to convert later on. Early marriage is closely correlated statistically to later conversion, but much less directly connected to divorce.43 The connection between early marriage and conversion may in fact have nothing to do with greater dissatisfaction among those who married young. It may simply be a corollary of the fact that wealthy families were more likely to convert than others. The wide difference in marriage age among rich and poor Jews in Berlin is a reminder that one cannot ignore class differences in analyzing gender-specific aspects of the crisis of Berlin Jewry. Berlin Jewish women were as varied as Berlin Jewish men. Assumptions that we can make about the women of the salon and other elite women who married "up" or who left husbands they had married when very young do not apply to the bulk of Jewish women. When looking at the majority of Jewish women who converted during the years when women predominated among the converts (1770-1805) we find many factors not found among the elite. Elite women did not convert to marry the fathers of their illegitimate children, since they seem to have avoided pregnancy in their love affairs. Poor women who converted in the early period were frequently not resident in Berlin. Among adults who converted before 1806, women were much more likely to be newcomers to the city than male converts. They may have been motivated to convert by the desire to acquire legal residency, again a problem that elite women did not have. Career Reasons for Male Conversion Acquisition of residency rights as a motivation for poor women to come to Berlin and convert was only present during the period when women predominated among

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the converts. Later, as men become the majority of converts, they also were more likely to be from outside Berlin than women who converted.44 The motivation of male migrants was quite different, however. It was not permission to reside in Berlin that made them convert, but rather their desire for career advancement. This motivation is almost nonexistent for women, who were unable to procure government positions no matter what their religion. For men, marriage was a much less important ladder to social mobility, and it was less tightly connected with conversion than it was for women. Marriage was certainly a motivation for the conversion of some men, as has already been seen from the evidence about fathers of illegitimate children and from the rapid marriage of some converted men. For most men, however, other factors predominated.45 Marriage followed conversion much less frequently among men than among women.46 The desire to remove barriers to career advancement was an especially important reason for male conversion. In the pre-1812 era, when all Jews were subject to a myriad of population and occupational restrictions, conversion would remove all such limitations. After 1812 most of these restrictions disappeared (at least in the "Old Prussian" provinces) except for restrictions on entering government service. The growing harshness of career restrictions on Jews after 1822 was an important motivation for the many young Jewish professional males from the provinces who converted in greater numbers then. It would seem from all these considerations that there was some difference between the ways men and women moved away from Jewish tradition, but these differences were not as absolute as many scholars have assumed. One cannot say that either sex was more likely than the other to break with or remain with tradition. However, their paths away from tradition seem to have followed somewhat different patterns. "Modern" Jewish men tended to work through formal organizations and to express their modernism through Enlightenment categories or, later, through religious reform.47 "Modern" women, on the other hand, did not create organizational networks. They expressed their modernism through personal actions and informal institutions. That is why one finds them linked with conspicuous consumption, the literary salons, and personal conversion rather than with formalized movements. Among the elite minority of Berlin Jewry that left behind literary evidence of their ideological bent, it seems evident that women were more likely than men to support Romanticism and men more likely than women to adhere to the Enlightenment. In other aspects of the crisis of Berlin Jewry there was relatively little difference between the sexes. Jewish men and Jewish women were about equally likely to have children out of wedlock. Intermarriage and love affairs across religious lines were common for both Jewish men and Jewish women and high divorce rates affected both equally. Although women were more likely to convert before 1800 and men were much more likely to convert by the second and third decades of the nineteenth century, it would be an exaggeration to state simply that women were pioneers of the Tauj"epidemic.48 Although an analysis of the role of women in the crisis of Berlin Jewry has shown that they did not play the overwhelming part that has been attributed to

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them by some historians, this does not mean that their behavior is not significant. Even when we leave aside those areas in which women really did predominate (the salons and Romanticism), the place of women in the crisis is noteworthy. Contemporaries were clearly surprised that women's conduct had any effect at all on an important change in communal life. Women were not expected to be leading influences in social life. Even in those aspects of the crisis in which the role of women was not very different from that of men (illegitimacy) or only predominant for a short period (conversions), this was a noticeable departure from earlier norms. Whether it was to praise their social and intellectual gifts or (more frequently) to criticize their frivolity and lack of loyalty to the Jewish community, contemporaries and later historians have been quick to emphasize the part women played in Berlin Jewry near the turn of the nineteenth century.49 Even when women were not acting vastly differently from their male coreligionists, the fact that women were acting publicly at all was sure to draw attention of those (mainly males) who wrote down their impression of what was happening in their society.

15 The Aftermath of the Crisis: Berlin Jewry After 1823

Religious Life After 1823 The Prussian decree of December 1823 forbidding all innovation in the Jewish religion marks the end of the period of intellectual ferment within Berlin Jewry. Whereas the great innovative movements in Judaism of the previous three-quarter century—Enlightenment, religious reform, Wissenschaft des Judentums—all had Berlin as their hub, Berlin now ceased to be a vital Jewish intellectual center for some two decades. In 1824 a new Jewish board of elders was chosen that was still made up mainly of modernists but contained few great or innovative leaders. By political fiat the orthodox had won, although in many ways their victory was a Pyrrhic one. All innovations in Jewish religion were forbidden, but tradition did not regain its hold in the lives of the Jews of Berlin. The reform forces, though defeated in the public sphere, continued to find arenas of activity especially in the sphere of education. For the first few years after the decree forbidding religious reform, the wave of conversions continued unabated; in fact the numbers converting continued to increase. By the 1830s, however, the crisis of conversions began to ebb as large numbers of migrants from the eastern provinces of Prussia poured into the city. Although orthodox Judaism gained control over all Jewish worship in Berlin after 1823, it remained a shadow of its former self. The majority of Berlin Jews simply ignored organized Jewish religion and attended services rarely, if at all. The victorious orthodox forces really gained very little except the elimination of their organized opposition. The picture one gets of Berlin orthodoxy in the 1830s is rather dreary. Its main source is the humorous memoirs of Aron Hirsch Heymann, a later founder of the separatist orthodox Adath Jisroel. Although one suspects some of his characterizations are overdrawn for effect, or to contrast with later improvements he claimed

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to have made, the general picture does fit with other known facts. The two beadles who led weekday services in the main synagogue were both elderly old-style pious Jews. The assistant cantor, who was also the chief notary (ne 'eman) of the community, knew no Hebrew grammar and made money from the sale of synagogue seats. Oberkantor Lion had been the cantor of the Beer reformed temple but, in his own humorous phrase, had been "kashered (made kosher)." He was accompanied by the traditional bass and treble singers (Bass und Singer), whose performance Heymann mocks. Few were present at the beginning of Sabbath services, since people attended the early services in private synagogues and only came to the main synagogue afterward. Having already prayed and had breakfast, they could then spend much of their time conversing with their neighbors. Some also passed around snuff. The rabbis, Jacob Joseph Oettinger and Elhanan Rosenstein, could barely speak German and were not able to give a real sermon. Heymann describes the Shabat Hagadol and Shabat Shuvah discourses of Oettinger as a travesty. Oettinger's Talmudic argumentation in Yiddish would be interrupted by various Polnische Waullerner who would engage in disputations with the rabbi. Much of the audience came only to be amused. Some of the other synagogue attendees of the time are also depicted with thick Yiddish accents. Many seats in the synagogue were ownerless, since their possessors had either converted or died. The ritual bath was delapidated and the meat market (Fleischscharren) in the synagogue courtyard was a distraction.1 Even the leaders of orthodoxy had to accept the fact that they and their institutions had lost influence. At weddings Rabbi Oettinger did not do the traditional handkerchief dance with the bride, since his policy was always to leave before dinner, so as not to insult those whose dinners were not kosher. In 1829 the rabbis had to accept the removal of the charity for the land of Israel from the list of seven charities with special privileges.2 The orthodox also had to make certain concessions at the time of the opening of the new Jewish cemetery at the Schonhauser Tor in 1827. Some were purely practical: because of the increased distance to the cemetery it was necessary to use a hearse rather than carry the corpse there on foot. Others were of greater import. The old burial society was replaced by a new one, which still respected traditional forms but no longer had the independent power of its predecessor.3 Although orthodoxy was the only permitted religious form, the communal boards continued to be made up mainly of nontraditionalists. Unable to find modernized rabbis, these men were satisfied with seeing a very weak Berlin rabbinate. In 1820 Ruben Gumpertz, an elder of the community, had told the government that a rabbi's main function was that of a "Kauscherwachter" (supervisor of kosher food). Despite his failure to receive the title of chief rabbi, Meyer Simon Weyl showed some strength and shrewdness in helping guide the antireform campaign of the years 1814 to 1823. After Weyl's death, in 1825, his successor, J. J. Oettinger, had much less influence. He is generally described as an upright and worthy man who avoided all controversy and possessed few leadership qualities. The government enforced the prohibition on religious innovations rather strictly, especially in the early years. Even the orthodox sometimes found themselves in

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trouble with the government. When Rabbi Oettinger dedicated the new cemetery near the Schonhauser Tor with a German sermon in 1827, the police considered the sermon a prohibited reform. Even ten years later, some minor changes in the liturgical forms were initially prohibited by the government.4 Until the late 1830s, the atmosphere of the Berlin synagogues was that of AltOrthodoxie with rabbis who could not speak German, cantors who knew no Hebrew grammar, and decorum virtually absent. This began to change slowly thereafter. Even supporters of orthodoxy like Aron Hirsch Heymann felt the need for some changes to make it viable for the future. In 1838 Heymann was elected synagogue chairman (Synagogenvorsteher) and put through some "reforms," which were generally in consonance with orthodoxy. A male choir was instituted, decorum was introduced, Rabbi Oettinger was required to attend all Sabbath and holiday services, and the cantor was to wear a clerical robe. In addition the auction of synagogue honors was abolished. Even these very modest changes were not without their opponents.5 Although the two official "interim rabbis" of the community did not speak High German, Salomon Plessner, who arrived in Berlin in 1830, did give German sermons on an unofficial basis in the Beth Hamidrash on alternate Saturday afternoons. Although he was completely orthodox, Plessner's homilies had a more acculturated form than those of any of the official rabbis. He also delivered wedding sermons and performed private confirmation ceremonies for boys and girls, both of them liturgical innovations.6 As stifling and spiritually unsatisfying as the post-1823 situation was for the orthodox, it was much more so for the nontraditionalists, who could find few outlets for their religious impulses. Religious indifference was widespread among them. Since innovation in the synagogue was prohibited, they turned to creating a modernized educational system. Many of the older Jewish schools were in a state of decline. The Freischule, founded by the Maskilim in 1778, closed in 1823. The communal board called in a group of Enlightened educational experts to create a plan for a communal school.7 This plan was soon rivaled by a contrary plan set up by Rabbi Weyl with the aid of Jeremias Heinemann, an ex-reformer who now supported the traditionalists. Weyl proposed a rabbinic and teachers' seminary with an elementary school to feed into it. Although the new school was to be under orthodox auspices, it recognized a place for secular studies and new educational forms. In 1825 both the communal school and Weyl's school opened. Eventually they were merged in 1829 as the Jiidische Gemeindeschule under the direction of Baruch Auerbach.8 In a way similar to developments in other large German communities in the 1820s, the new school became the center for liturgical innovations, which were banned from the synagogue. The school had about 100 male students. A girls' school was created in 1835. In the boys' school Baruch Auerbach or his brother, a former preacher in the Beer-Jacobson temple, gave weekly sermons after the traditional Sabbath service. Another innovation was a students' choir in four-part harmony. Although officially a school service, the religious exercises were attended by parents and other adults. The room was filled to capacity. The service seemed to fulfil some of the needs that the decree of 1823 left unsatisfied.9

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THE SOCIAL ANALYSIS OF THE CRISIS

Most Jewish children did not attend the Jewish communal school or any of the smaller private Jewish schools in the city. Some two-thirds attended non-Jewish schools that had a generally Christian atmosphere. The community was unsuccessful in creating any mechanism for providing the children in such schools any kind of systematic Jewish instruction.10 Outside the school there were some scholarly activities, undertaken mainly by Leopold Zunz whose Gottesdienstliche Vortrdge der Juden appeared in 1832. His lectures on psalms attracted a small but distinguished audience.11 The beginnings of real alternatives to the "old orthodox" way of life in Berlin, however, did not really come until about 1840. In that year a new teachers' seminary headed by Leopold Zunz came into existence, which lasted for a short period. In the same year a new Cultur-Verein was created in which some seventy educated Berlin Jews endeavored to encourage scholarly and artistic activities among the Jews. Its membership soon increased to 200—some of them influential men in the community. In 1844 the first communal rabbi with an advanced secular education, Michael Sachs, was chosen. Sachs was a traditionalist who opposed any but the most minor reforms. Although his arrival satisfied forward-looking traditionalists like A. H. Heymann, it did not do much for thoroughgoing reformers. It was among members of the Cultur-Verein who were dissatisfied with the pace of reform both within the community and elsewhere that the Berlin Reformgenossenschaft (reform society) was founded in 1845. This group soon created a radical Reformgemeinde (reform community) with a suitably progressive rabbi— Samuel Holdheim. A separate reform service was now available again in the city, this time in much more radical form than ever before. A few years later the religiously liberal party gained control of the board of the Jewish community. After the death of Sachs, and the appointment of Joseph Aub, a liberal rabbi, as his successor in 1865, the community as a whole went over to the new philosophy. The great new synagogue built on Oranienburgerstrasse in 1866 incorporated an organ and other innovations (although it was much less radical than the Reformgemeinde). Even the old synagogue on Heidereutergasse, while still traditional, was now opened to the regular sermons of the new reform communal rabbis. Some of the traditionalists then seceded to form their own separate community. Although the decree of 1823 had postponed the takeover of the Berlin Jewish community by reform for several decades, in the end that takeover took place. The End of the Crisis and Migration from the Provinces The years immediately after the decree of 1823 were marked by a level of conversion to Christianity even higher than anything seen previously. Slowly, however, a change became noticeable within the wave of conversions. Increasingly the converts were young men from the provinces coming to Berlin to make careers for themselves.12 The peak in absolute numbers of conversions in Berlin seems to have been reached around 1830. There is a disagreement among scholars about whether the absolute numbers declined thereafter or merely stopped growing. Abraham Menes

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showed an increase of about a third in the number of converts in the province of Brandenburg between 1812 and 1821 and 1822 and 1831, but virtually no change thereafter.13 Deborah Hertz's figures based on the Judenkartei show a decline in absolute numbers after the mid-1830s.14 Whether the number of conversions declined or simply failed to continue rising, it seems clear that by the late 1830s, at least, the sense of a crisis in Berlin Jewry began to fade. The Berlin community as a whole was undergoing a substantial change in the late 1830s and thereafter. It was being affected by an overwhelming wave of in-migration from the small towns of Prussia's eastern provinces. By the 1840s the Berlin Jewish community was both much larger than before and of very different background. The eighteenth century Berlin community had been formed by migration from many areas in all directions from Berlin. Besides easterners there had been many migrants from such central German communities as Halberstadt and Dessau, such northwestern communities as Hamburg, Hannover, and Hildesheim, and even some south German migrants. In the period after the Emancipation decree of 1812 migration came chiefly from the east. The increase in the Jewish population of Berlin does not become evident until the 1830s. From the 1770s until 1822 the Jewish population of the city stagnated. The increase that began around 1822 was slow, but then began to gain momentum. The Jewish population of the city surpassed 4,000 in 1825 and reached almost 5,000 by 1831 and 6,000 by 1839. In the years after 1837 the rate of growth was much higher. In the fifteen years between 1837 and 1852 the number of Jews in Berlin doubled—from 5,645 to 11,840—an average increase of over 400 a year.15 The Jewish population increased more rapidly than the general population of the city in the late 1840s. An indirect indication of the growth of Berlin Jewry, supplementing the above data, can be found by looking at the numbers of new Berlin Jewish citizens listed in the Judenbiirgerbucher.16 Excluding the great fluctuations of numbers in the first few years Jews were permitted to acquire citizenship, we find that the number of new Jewish citizens in Berlin hovered around 40 to 45 between 1816 and 1831 with few exceptions. From 1832 to 1838 this suddenly increased to the 60 to 70 range and then, after 1840, averaged over 100 annually.17 Of the citizens of Berlin listed in the Judenbiirgerbucher, 727 were born in the city itself. The nearby province of Brandenburg provided another 600, and Pomerania another 128. The formerly Polish provinces of Westpreussen and Posen provided some 350 and 615, respectively, while the other eastern provinces of Silesia and Ostpreussen provided 330 and 50 each. All other Prussian provinces were home to only 115 in-migrants, the rest of Germany provided about 200, and all other places (mainly Eastern Europe) provided fewer than 65 migrant citizens to Berlin before 1850. The small West Prussian town of Markisch Friedland alone provided 133 Berlin citizens, most of them between 1823 and 1849. The switch from migration from the nearby towns to migration mainly from the eastern provinces took place at about the same time that the pace of population increase in Berlin climbed. In the 1820s most of the new citizens in Berlin were born either in Berlin or the nearby provinces of Brandenburg and Pomerania.

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By the 1830s the switch to migration mainly from West Prussia, Posen, and Silesia was already completed.18 Because of this steady wave of migration to the city, the character of Berlin Jewry had changed radically by the 1840s. Fewer than one-third of Berlin Jews in 1850 were the descendants of the Berlin Jews of the pre-1812 period.19 The board of the Jewish community, the leadership of Berlin Jewish organizations, and the spokesmen for the leading ideological groups were only rarely members of the families that had dominated Berlin Jewry in the eighteenth century.20 Many of the chief elite families were disappearing from the Jewish communities by the second third of the nineteenth century. Of the descendants of the three great coin millionaires of the Seven Years War, the vast majority had converted to Christianity by 1830. Among the few who did not convert, quite a few remained childless. Other elite families of the eighteenth century, too, seem to have converted in their entirety or at least their majority. Few of the families in leadership positions in the reform community created in the 1840s were related to the leaders of the reformed service of the 1810s. Most were recent immigrants from the eastern provinces or their children.21 In the vastly increased Jewish community of the mid-nineteenth century, even the same number of conversions annually would have much less impact. As the new migrants reached positions of prominence, they were probably also less affected personally by the conversions of old Berliners to whom they had few ties of family or friendship. They could see their community as a growing and flourishing one, whose numbers far outstripped its losses and whose influence on the commercial and intellectual life of the city was on the increase. In many ways the Jewish community of Berlin in the middle of the nineteenth century was no longer the same as the community that had gone through the crisis of 1780 to 1830. Two-thirds of the Berlin Jews had arrived in Berlin within the last two or three decades. Many of the members of the old elites were no longer part of the Jewish community at all. Although some of the institutions of Berlin Jewry still remained, and the locale had not changed drastically, the personnel had undergone a great change. Most Berlin Jews of the midcentury knew of the crisis only by hearsay, not because it had affected members of their own families. Slowly but surely the crisis faded into history. The modern institutions of the community, the rise of liberal Jewry in Berlin, the growth of secularism and German culture among Berlin Jews, were less the direct outgrowth of the struggles of Berlin Jewry of the period of crisis than the result of developments all over Germany. Most of the Berlin Jews involved in these modernizing activities had only the shared locale in common with the Jews of the crisis period. Although Mendelssohn might still be viewed as a heroic figure and some memory of the period of crisis may have survived, few Berlin Jews carried any family traditions of the crisis period, since most of their families came to Berlin after the crisis was over.

V Conclusion

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Conclusion

Berlin Jewry was one of the pioneering communities in the adjustment of Judaism to the modern world. As a pioneering community it served as a model to other communities. Though the underlying structural situation was similar in Berlin to that of other modernizing communities, many aspects of the process of modernization in Berlin were unique. Unlike later communities trying to adjust tradition to the challenges of modernity, Berlin Jewry had virtually no models to follow. The explosive quality of the initial process of modernization in Berlin was largely absent elsewhere. At the beginning of the process of change, there was little about Berlin Jewry to lead one to suspect that revolutionary cultural developments would occur there. In the slow slippage of tradition in the early eighteenth century detected by some historians, Berlin played no outstanding part. When modernity in the shape of new upper-class lifestyles and Jewish Enlightenment ideas did begin to emerge around the time of the Seven Years War, the initial progress of the movement also gave little inkling of the crisis that would follow. The first leaders of the Berlin Haskala were notable both for the relative moderation of their program and the peaceful nature of their relationship with the Jewish establishment. Moses Mendelssohn, the undisputed intellectual leader of the movement, was respectful of the tradition in his writings and daily life. He corresponded with leading rabbinic authorities in an amicable manner. In return, the Jewish establishment, especially the lay leaders of Berlin Jewry, gave him honors and privileges. These same communal leaders played a leading part in the changes in style of daily life that began to blur the distinctions between upper class Jewish and Christian daily life. One has the impression that neither Mendelssohn himself nor most of his wealthy lay supporters saw the revolutionary or "dangerous" implications of the cultural adaptations they favored. Instead it appeared that, slowly and peacefully, the leaders of the community were synthesizing German culture and traditional Jewish forms. Although some conflict between the forces of Haskala and the traditionalists began to become evident during the last years of Men-

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delssohn's life, these conflicts were minor compared to the rapid and allencompassing radical change that became evident soon thereafter. Even the early peaceful stage of change occurred across a wide spectrum of human experience. Not only did some philosophers try to reinterpret Judaism as a basically rational religion but many Berlin Jews were changing their linguistic and clothing habits, changing the education of their children, acquiring knowledge of subjects formerly unknown to most Jews, and breaking down long-standing cultural barriers between themselves and their non-Jewish neighbors. Perhaps one reason why the Berlin Haskala, even in its relatively early stages, had an effect on such a multitude of aspects of life is the fact that it combined an intellectual and a social change. On the one hand, a group of intellectuals, recruited from many different social strata and geographical origins, were adapting general Enlightenment ideas to the Jewish community. On the other, a new Jewish elite was emerging, that pioneered a new lifestyle and that, at least superficially, found the new Enlightenment way of thinking congenial to its new position in life. These two aspects of change in Berlin in the 1760s, 1770s, and early 1780s— the intellectual and the elite social—already bore within them the seeds of more radical developments. The new rationalist approach to religion could, at least potentially, call into question the validity of traditional Jewish practices and beliefs. The attempted synthesis of tradition and Enlightenment in the works of Mendelssohn soon showed itself unconvincing to many of his followers. To this potentially explosive situation, a number of new elements were added in the last decades of the eighteenth century. The emerging discussion of emancipation for Prussian Jewry gave formerly theoretical considerations of cultural change important implications for political and economic rights. The elite of the community, especially, now saw the possibility of achieving a social status equivalent to their economic status. Cultural integration now seemed to some to be a means to the goal of social and political integration. Other factors that seem to have helped to lead to a crisis situation were an economic downturn, which made the formerly secure position of elite supporters of Enlightenment, like the Itzigs, more insecure, and the rise of Romanticism. The economic woes of some of the elite may have caused them to despair of their influencing the community peacefully to adopt Enlightenment and, instead, to seek integration outside the community. Romanticism, or at least changes in mores often associated with early Romanticism, also had a profound effect on the development of Berlin Jewry in the years from 1786 till the French occupation of Berlin twenty years later. In this period, following the lead of the libertine Prussian monarch Friedrich Wilhelm II, Berlin society loosened its sexual mores. The Jewish community of the city followed the general trend quite closely. Somewhat related to this trend was the independent role played by Jewish women especially in the literary salons, which combined persons of various estates and religions. Unlike the Enlightenment and the later reform movement, the salons and Romanticism in general operated outside formal institutional frameworks. In this period of rapid change and individual self-expression, the formal philosophical syntheses of Enlightenment intellectuals seemed to carry little weight.

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Peaceful evolution had turned into cultural and sexual revolution. In some ways the social changes in the community were progressing so fast that they got away from the intellectual leaders who wished to direct them. Although men like Wolfsohn and Euchel moved in more radical directions in their criticism of traditional religion in the decade after Mendelssohn's death, they nevertheless condemned some of the excesses of what they called "superficial Enlightenment." Even Friedlander's radical step of proposing a form of conversion to Dean Teller was only a momentary concession to the confusing forces of change in the community. Most of the leaders of the Berlin Enlightenment condemned what they saw as social excesses in the modernizing sectors of Berlin Jewry whether in the form of extravagant luxury, illegitimacy and extramarital affairs, or conversion to Christianity. They (and later supporters of the Haskala as well) saw these "excesses" as caused by the absence of true Enlightenment. The leaders both of the Haskala and of early religious reform saw themselves as sailing safely between the twin dangers of Leichtsinn (frivolity) and Frommelei (hypocritical piety), which caused the crisis. They argued that it was the failure of the young Berlin Jews to acquire "truly Enlightened" culture that made them prey to excesses. The relationship between Enlightenment and revolutionary changes in identity and personal life among Berlin Jews is a poignant one. On the one hand, the leaders of the Enlightenment did not intend for the break with tradition to be as violent and complete as it was. On the other hand, the persons most involved in the most radical of the breaks from traditional communal and family life (conversion and illegitimacy) were the young family members of those most involved in the Enlightenment. It was, so to speak, out of the very circle of those trying to create a philosophy that would enable Judaism to survive in the modern world, that the most profound challenge to the viability of Judaism in the modern world was to come. The relationship between the "first stage"—lifestyle change and Enlightenment philosophy in the time of Mendelssohn—and the "second stage"—sexual freedom, family breakdown, and conversion to Christianity—has interesting parallels to the relationship between the French Enlightenment and the French Revolution. The French philosophes, too, rarely saw the radical social implications of their pioneering ideas. Certainly few of them anticipated that they would help inspire a political and social revolution. Yet there can be little doubt that there was a connection between Enlightenment and revolution. Of course, the changes in Berlin Jewry were not revolutionary in the political sense, but they did involve a challenge to accustomed ways of thinking and acting in a multitude of aspects of life. The period of free social mixing faded in the years after the French occupation of 1806, and the granting of broad Emancipation in 1812 put an end (at least for a while) to the uncertainties about Jewish political and social status. However, this did not end the crisis of Berlin Jewry—it merely changed the way the crisis expressed itself. Although extramarital affairs and the birth of illegitimate children became less common, the trend of conversion to Christianity not only proceeded unabated but continued to swell. The granting of formal legal Emancipation gave, at most, a pause of two years in the upward trend. As it turned out, legal equality was soon placed under various types of limitations, and even where

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it remained in effect it did not bring with it the hoped-for social equality. Many Jewish residents of Berlin continued to believe that only conversion to Christianity would solve their desire for acceptance. Although the Emancipation decree of 1812 did not end the wave of baptisms, it did bring into practical effect an attempt to synthesize Judaism and Enlightened ideas in the form of early reform Judaism. Unlike the "peaceful period" during the life of Mendelssohn, the new movement soon met strong opposition within the community and led to a sense of schism. The government prohibition of religious reform in 1823 ended the formal controversy but left neither side really satisfied. The "epidemic" of baptisms reached its highest point in the seven years after 1823 when renewed restriction on government employment led many young men to convert for career purposes. The series of changes that took place between 1760 and 1830 were loosely connected with each other. Enlightenment need not have led to illegitimacy or conversion; nor was reform Judaism a natural outcome of Emancipation. However, the combination of factors did help cause one aspect to proceed from the other. Although the Enlightenment of the first stage and the radical outcomes of illegitimacy and conversion are not linked by any logical necessity, but only by loose influences, there is another relationship between them—the personal. Here we can seek a connection not through the logical affinity of the phenomena but through the personal relationships of the individuals involved in them. Such connections have long been noticed by students of the Berlin Haskala, notably in the persons of the converting children of Moses Mendelssohn, and many (especially enemies of the Enlightenment) have used these connections to claim the logical dependence of the radical stage on the earlier stage. To evaluate the personal connection between the moderate and the radical stages, two forms of investigation are necessary. First, it is necessary to explore the factual dimensions of the connection to see if it did in fact exist or was merely a faulty extrapolation from a few atypical cases. Second, if indeed the personal connection can be established, one then has to try to understand the reasons for the connection. Establishing the facts about the connection between the moderate and the radical phases of modernization in Berlin has been undertaken through the use of a collective biography of all Berlin Jews in the period. First we have been able to evaluate the overall magnitude of the radical phenomena of illegitimacy and conversion and to put to rest the wildly different notions about it. It is now clear that conversion had a considerable effect on a significant portion of the community and affected about one in twelve individuals and one in four families. It was more widespread in elite families than in others, but in any case it certainly did not involve the conversion of one-third or one-half of Berlin Jewry. Having established the overall size of the radical phenomena, the more difficult task of evaluating connections with the milder Enlightenment activities remained. Besides looking for individuals involved in both aspects, which was comparatively rare, this investigation has concentrated on analyzing the role of the family in the crisis. The result of our investigations was to demonstrate that there was indeed a significant statistical correlation between those who followed

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Enlightenment or reform programs for "peaceful" Jewish modernization and those who engaged in radical steps such as conversion. Although other factors, such as wealth, also had a demonstrable effect on the degree of conversion, ideological orientation of parents was a significant element. When we see figures that show almost one-third of subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation having children who converted as against 9 percent of members of the orthodox burial society, and that 44 percent of the subscribers but only 20 percent of the orthodox had at least one grandchild who converted, this seems like a very considerable divergence. This difference remains, even if somewhat less strikingly, if one filters out variations in wealth.1

Did Liberalism Lead to Conversion? When one considers the statistical correlation between liberal family ideology and later conversion of family members, we can see that the family was indeed an important factor in influencing ideological and conversion decisions. While it is true that some parents baptized their children for the sake of social or career advancement without themselves taking the same step, in most cases liberal-minded parents probably did not actively encourage their children's or grandchildren's conversion. In fact we have some evidence that they regretted such decisions. Nevertheless, they presumably put fewer obstacles in their children's way than would orthodox parents and perhaps were more likely to retain personal ties with their converted children. Persons who converted would seem to have been influenced both by something in the atmosphere of the families in which they grew up and by the example of family members who had converted. It may have been a generally more liberal attitude, which left important life decisions up to the children, even if these were painful to the parents, and which respected the ideological disagreement of their children, that made "liberal" parents less likely to erect a barrier to conversion than orthodox parents.2 But it was not only a possible difference between the parents' reactions that explains the higher baptism rate of the children of Enlightenment supporters. In quite a few cases the baptisms did not take place until long after the parents' deaths. Other influencing factors probably include differences in general cultural outlook and lifestyle. In a family supporting the Enlightenment, children would have received more encouragement to study general culture, to read works in German, to appreciate art and music, and to associate socially with non-Jews than children in orthodox families. Families observing the dietary laws would have had a harder time socializing outside the Jewish community than those who did not. All of these factors can be guessed at rather than directly documented. Taken together they indicate certain aspects of the lives of liberal families that would have reduced the barriers against conversion more than among those not affected by liberalism. It would be going much too far, however, to move from these fairly indirect influences of a liberal family atmosphere in reducing barriers against conversion to a direct equation of liberalism as the cause for conversion and other manifesta-

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tions of assimilation, or of orthodoxy as a sure barrier to it. A number of considerations demonstrate that the polemical accusations of opponents of the Enlightenment that Enlightenment caused the crisis that followed are oversimplified. At the very least, one can say that there are alternatives to such a simplistic explanation. There are several other objections to the argument that reform caused conversion and that orthodoxy was the effective antidote. First, not all orthodox families were immune to conversions. Although the percentage of conversions among the children of those active in orthodox circles was much lower than among the children of liberals, it was still far from negligible. In any other society but Berlin at the time, it would have been considered shockingly high. Second, orthodoxy could not have been an effective barrier to assimilation and conversion because it was unable to hold its own members. After all, if orthodoxy was the safest bulwark against conversion, one must ask the question—why did people give up tradition to begin with? Every reform Jew in Berlin or elsewhere was the descendant of a traditional Jew. The percentage of children of the orthodox who later affiliated with religious reform was probably at least as high as the percentage of children of the reformers or Enlightened who converted. If orthodoxy had remained a satisfying ideology for these people, they would never have adhered to the Enlightenment or reform. Therefore simply seeing orthodoxy as the solution and reform as the cause of the problem does not seem to describe the situation of the time accurately. Perhaps it is most productive to analyze the circumstances in terms of generational progression. First there is a generation that gives up on orthodoxy and seeks comfort in a modernized ideology like Enlightenment or religious reform. A later generation, which was already brought up liberal, then took the next step of giving up Judaism altogether. This succession of three generations seems to have been the most common one, though we have seen two types of "speeding up" of the process. In one the descendants of orthodox parents convert without going through the intermediate stage of religious reform; in the other, the same person who first sees reform as an alternative to orthodoxy is then disillusioned with reform as well and converts. Thus, it was not so much that liberal Jewish ideologies caused conversion but that they were often intermediate in the process by which members of various families moved from tradition to conversion. Was the cause of the final break with Judaism the failing of the liberal ideology of the children, or did it occur earlier when the grandparents were unable to pass their traditional faith down to the children? It would seem that if one were to assess responsibility, it would have to be shared by traditionalists and liberals alike. Those traditional Jews who were able to pass on their traditionalist leanings to their children seem to have had a better chance of keeping their more distant descendants Jewish than those whose children abandoned tradition. Other than the fact that wealthy Jewish families seemed more likely to abandon tradition than more modest families, we know little about the factors that caused some families to retain their tradition while others left it. The fact that so many Berlin Jews abandoned traditional life and practice would

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seem to indicate something missing in tradition as it had been practiced in Berlin. What this lack was eludes our present state of knowledge. As to the liberals, the figures show clearly that for most of them, in the period before 1830, adherence to the Enlightenment or reform was a weak barrier, at best, to abandonment of Judaism. The very high conversion rates of children of adherents of these movements are evidence enough. One could argue in mitigation that reform, at least, did not really have a chance to develop freely during the period, because of the opposition of government and the orthodox. Whatever the causes, though, liberalism was not a bulwark to protect Jewish identification at the time. Therefore we return to the explanation of the pattern of reform and conversion as both one of generational succession and as aspects of the same break with tradition. Those who became reformers were one step further away from tradition than those who remained orthodox. Therefore their descendants were more likely to take the next step away from tradition and convert; quite likely, many of the children of those who had initially remained orthodox were taking their next step— becoming reform—at the same time as the descendants of those who had earlier become reform supporters were beginning to convert. An additional part of the equation has to be added here. That is the fact that the wave of baptisms was restricted to a particular period of time and began to fade after 1830. Thus those people who did not begin to turn away from tradition until the 1830s were less likely to see their children convert than those who turned untraditional earlier. Jews in the post-1830 generation were much less prone to conversion, even though it was in the 1830s and 1840s that the religious reform movement in Germany began to make important strides. The difference between the period between 1780 and 1830 and the period that succeeded it thus needs to be explained. In the earlier period there was a crisis of Judaism, many conversions, and a clear statistical correlation between liberalism and converted children. None of this seems to be the case later on. There has to be an explanation of why the earliest stage in the break with tradition was marked by such a crisis, whereas later stages, during which the number of Jews who were no longer traditional had increased greatly, were marked by much less of a crisis. Not only was there less sense of crisis in Berlin after 1830, there also seems to have been little repetition of the crisis experience of Berlin in other modernizing Jewish communities in Germany. In other places and at other times, the abandonment of traditional religious practice and the rise of a reform movement or of other nontraditional ideologies were not accompanied by a Taufepidemie or by revolutionary changes in family behavior; instead, a much more gradual process unfolded. The relationship between liberalization and assimilation in Berlin is thus not merely a logical connection between the two phenomena but must be related to specific factors present in that particular time and place. Special characteristics of Berlin Jewish society may have led to the explosive events of 1780 to 1830. These included the rapid rise of a few fabulously wealthy families, the long struggle for Emancipation, the role Berlin played as center of both the Enlightenment and of early Romanticism, and the strong impact of Romanticism and a wide-open lifestyle during the period 1786 to 1806. But surely

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the greatest influence in creating the radicalism in Berlin was the pioneering nature of the event itself. Here one can give an explanation that contrasts sharply with the initial "antireform" explanation. One could argue that what the early period lacked was a clear alternative model to traditional Judaism. Almost all Jews had been raised in the tradition and had only adopted alternative styles of life in adulthood. For many the only "real Jews" were the traditionalists. Everything that modern Jews did, whether it was speaking German, dressing like non-Jews, playing the piano, singing Christian oratorios, or violating the dietary laws was pioneering and a break with tradition.3 Once one had begun to break with tradition there were no longer clear boundaries about how far from tradition one could go. Although most of the leaders of the Berlin Haskala devoted much of their energy to creating systems that would reconcile modernity with elements of Jewish tradition, these systems were mainly theoretical constructs rather than social realities. The semineutral or neutral society that they imagined in which their Jewishness was irrelevant to their qualities as human beings and in which people of different religions could mix as equals never really existed. The social circles that seemed most to approach this semineutral society (for instance, the salons) were in fact circles where the pressure on the Jewish members to conform to Christian cultural, social, and even religious norms were intense. Even if individual Jews could find social acceptance or devise satisfactory syntheses of Jewishness and general culture for themselves, these individual successes had no institutional form and did not form generally accepted ways of identification. For most members of Berlin society, Judaism still meant the Judaism of ritual observance and thus a step away from observance seemed tantamount to a step away from Judaism. Modernized Jews in Berlin had difficulty escaping the perception that they were exceptions to the rule, different from the typical Jew. Rabbinic leaders were assumed (usually rightly so) to be enemies of the new way of thinking, and the Enlightened often felt estranged from Jewishness. Perhaps this is the reason Enlightened leaders seemed so anxious to devise a new term like "Israeli!" or "Old Testament believer" to replace the derogatory "Jew." Although an Enlightenment movement and a reform movement were created during the period under discussion, they were always marked as exceptional minority movements different from the bulk of Jewish practice. In the case of religious reform, it was unclear almost from the start whether the Prussian government was going to allow the movement to develop legally at all. For modernizing Jews the final step of undergoing baptism may not have seemed all that much more radical than working on the Sabbath or eating pork. Many might already have seen themselves as abandoning the only kind of Judaism that was "real Judaism." Lacking any clear social or institutional model for a Judaism other than traditional, many modern Jew? seemed to feel themselves trapped somewhere between the "real Judaism" they had abandoned and the bulk of Christian society from which they were divided by legal and religious barriers. Conversion to Christianity might permanently solve the question of belonging and identity. Rather than floating between two societies and belonging to neither, they could become Christians and find a clear form of self-identification. This identification was often made without

Conclusion

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great religious fervor, but it did serve the purpose of finding a society to which to belong. If association with the majority religion brought with it political and social advantages, this made it all the more attractive. The peculiar feeling of floating between two societies was most acute at the beginning of the process of modernization in European Jewry. When those who were leaving the traditional way of life were a small minority, and most people assumed that Jewishness implied the unadulterated tradition, the modern Jews had a hard time finding a niche for themselves. Paradoxically, as the movement for modernization gained momentum, the necessity for radical abandonment of Jewishness became less urgent. As their numbers increased, modern Jews began to see themselves as an alternate model of what Judaism was. They could now say, "I am a modern Jew," or "I am a reform Jew," rather than merely, "I am not like the other Jews." The real growth of the reform movement in Germany dates to the 1840s, by which time the crisis of Berlin Jewry had come to an end. By that time there were not only reformed services in a few places, but also reform rabbis and a growing institutionalization of reform practices. Although reform was very much delayed in returning to Berlin, Berlin Jews could still look at the growing number of modern-style Jews throughout Germany and identify with them. There was no longer a reason for Jews who did not follow tradition to see themselves as being outside the Jewish norms. Thus, paradoxically, the first nontraditionalists, being a small minority without a clear-cut model of the new Judaism that all agreed on, were more likely to take the radical step of apostasy than were the much more numerous nontraditionalists of later Judaism who saw so many more Jews like themselves. In the later generations (however much the orthodox might disagree), the nonorthodox Jew could see himself as being as legitimate if not more so than the traditionalist. There was no longer a single rabbinic Judaism from which one could measure one's distance. There were now alternative models of Judaism and one could choose which model one wished to affiliate with. If this latter scenario is the true one, then what caused the "wave of baptisms" was not the abandonment of tradition itself, but the fact that the abandonment of tradition was seen as abandonment rather than as the creation or adherence to another model of Judaism. It was the absence of an alternative that caused so many modernized Jews to turn away from Judaism altogether, not the existence of modernized Judaism itself. The appearance of a widespread alternative to traditional Jewishness by the 1840s did not mean that all the problems that had faced Jews in Berlin during the period of crisis had disappeared. Certainly Jews had not achieved full legal equality, and the goal of social acceptance seemed even further away. They could, however, believe that many of the problems of German Jewry were on the road to solution: economic positions were improving, there were signs of improvement in legal status, and secular education and knowledge were steadily growing and seemed to be a permanent feature of German-Jewish life. The new world that had been promised by the Enlightenment and the early theorists of Emancipation had not yet arrived, but it seemed to be on the way to at least partial fruition. The appearance of viable forms of modern Jewish self-identification helps to

194

CONCLUSION

explain why other communities did not have to go through the same type of crisis as Berlin Jewry. Once alternative models were in place anywhere, modern Jews could be reasonably certain that they had alternatives besides Christianity or a return to pre-Enlightenment Jewish life. They did not have to fear that the forces of tradition would be able to squelch the promising light of Western culture among the Jews. They knew that others had succeeded in creating some form of new synthesis and therefore did not see any particular reason to turn to Christianity out of despair. There were factors specific to Berlin as well. The explosive growth of Berlin Jewry in the late 1830s and thereafter ensured that the families and social circles most involved in the struggle for modernity and the ensuing crisis were becoming a shrinking minority of Berlin Jewry. By 1850 the vast majority of Berlin Jews came from families who had recently arrived from the eastern provinces and had never gone through a crisis. They either retained the traditions they brought with them from Posen, Silesia, and West Prussia or they were able to modernize in an atmosphere where viable cultural alternatives to tradition were present. Not coming from the old Berlin families that had been involved in the crisis, they were not personally affected by the influence of the old families. Growing up in an age when a modern Jewish sector was as much a fact of life as the existence of tradition, they were not faced with the feelings of alienation that a previous generation undergoing modernization had faced. The first Jewish community and the first generations to go through a process of modernization of culture and lifestyle were the ones who went through the greatest trauma as well. The more the process of change became routinized, popular, and taken for granted, the less danger it seemed to pose to the survival of the Jewish community. After the initial crisis that those who cleared the path to modernity suffered, those who followed only needed to follow an increasingly well marked road. The Berlin Jews of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries went through great confusions and difficulties in their efforts to create models for modernizing Jewry. Many of them failed to find a means to accomplish their desires while remaining in the Jewish fold. Yet their efforts, with all their flaws, helped to create paths that others could follow more easily. The later generations were less likely to succumb to the temptation to stray from the community or from conventional family life. Many of the members of later generations of Berlin Jewry made important contributions to Jewish and German culture, but few of them were to have the pioneering cultural role of the crisis-ridden Berlin Jews of 1770 to 1830. As we have seen, two models of explanation can be put forward with considerable force to explain the Taufepidemic. Some will prefer the simple statistical correlation, which shows reform more associated with conversion than orthodoxy. Others will prefer the "lack of alternative" theory. In a certain way preference for one or the other of these models will probably parallel the two traditional attitudes toward the Berlin Haskala. Those sympathetic to Haskala will prefer the "lack of alternative" theory; those unsympathetic to it will now be able to point to additional statistical evidence of what happens when people turn away from tradition. Although the statistical evidence that this study has uncovered can certainly tell

Conclusion

195

us more about what happened in the Taufepidemie it cannot settle the ideological controversy over the Tightness or wrongness of liberal Judaism. Each group will be able to find some backing for its way of looking at the Jewish Enlightenment. Berlin Jewry and the Overall Modernization Process In general this study has emphasized those factors that made the process of adaptation to the modern world by Berlin Jews different from the process in other communities. We have explored the reasons why the beginnings of modern times in Berlin Jewry precipitated a crisis much more acute and evident than that found in other communities. To a considerable extent we have attributed the crisis nature of modernization in Berlin to the absence of alternative models of change in a pioneering community. Having shown how Berlin was unique, however, we must still explain what there is about this pioneering community that made later Jewish historians and thinkers so interested in it. If it was so exceptional, why did so many later Jews see the events in Berlin as both a model and an influence on other communities? Was it merely that Berlin was the first community to undergo the changes, or was there some other common feature? Perhaps one can answer such questions by distinguishing between the specific way the crisis of modernization developed in Berlin and the underlying structural situation it exhibited. Perhaps other communities were not faced with a wave of illegitimacy or conversions on the Berlin scale at the beginning of their move from tradition to modernity, but many of them did experience the uncertainty and the dangers that such a process had for a minority community. In every community, even those where no crisis took place, mild cultural changes and changes in political status often brought in their wake more thoroughgoing transformations. Growth in secular education frequently brought in its wake abandonment of traditional religious practice. Improved social and economic status often led to an increase in intermarriage with the Christian majority. The relatively mild initial manifestations of the process of modernization almost everywhere led to more profound changes even if they rarely took the extreme forms found in Berlin. Among Jewish leaders at the beginning of the modernization period there was frequently a split between those who saw the process of change as unalterably dangerous and those who felt that the only way to cope with change was to tame it through compromise. Such leaders of the "Old Orthodox" party as Rabbi Moses Sofer (the Hatam Sofer) of Pressburg felt that even mild cultural change would lead eventually to a breakdown of the Jewish religion. They therefore fought even seemingly innocuous innovations in education, language, or style of life. Certainly this uncompromising rejection of modernity did not long dominate Central European Jewry. Nevertheless, almost everywhere that the modernization process began, there were some traditionalist leaders who felt that loosening even one brick in the old edifice of tradition would cause the whole structure to collapse. Even though, eventually, most Jewish leaders and communities made their peace with the forces of modernity (where they did not embrace them outright), there

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CONCLUSION

was nevertheless a sense in which all change brought with it further change. Every move in the direction of a voluntaristic Jewish community based on individual choice meant almost inevitably the growth of diversity within the community, the blurring of boundaries between Jews and non-Jews, and a growing trend to abandon traditional religious practice. The embracing of secular culture and secular education almost everywhere led to a decline in the central place occupied by the study of Jewish traditions and Jewish texts. In most Jewish communities, this process of change did not take the form of a crisis in which, within a generation or two, large sections of the community abandoned their Jewishness and their traditional family life. In most places, change was gradual with relatively few violent confrontations and few rapid paroxysms of abandonment of Judaism. Yet, if other communities did not manifest a Berlinstyle crisis, many or most saw a gradual slippage in commitment to tradition, in exclusive identification with Judaism, and in communal cohesiveness. Patterns of intermarriage developed more gradually than in Berlin and without the shocking quality shown when the children of communal leaders seemed to convert en masse. But if most communities did not fear a crisis of baptisms, many feared an actual or potential growth of assimilation, which would lead to the loss of large sections of the community. In most later Jewish communities, the process was long and drawn out and the forces of cohesion had time to develop alternative strategies, which would enable many to cope with the powerful forces of assimilation. Still, those forces continued to exist in most Diaspora communities and they often worried communal leaders. Many of the ideologies and programs of modern Jewish movements were created, at least in part, to stem the forces of assimilation. Such movements have largely prevented a repetition of a crisis like that which occurred in Berlin. But, with few exceptions, they have not been able to reverse or halt the more gradual structural process of amalgamation with the majority culture. Because the question of survival or assimilation has remained a vital question for modern Jewish communities, the Berlin example has continued to hold so much interest. The Berlin Taufepidemie E still resonates for those in the Jewish community who fear assimilation and look for means to cope with it. Divisions of opinion about the Berlin Jewish Enlightenment parallel divisions between more recent ideological trends. And these divisions often are based on different diagnoses and different prescriptions for the survival of the Jews as a minority group. Later Jews discussing Berlin Jewry between 1780 and 1830 were often merely using the Berlin case to debate their own solutions to their own problems of assimilation. While they tried to assess responsibility for the tendencies to leave Judaism then, they were also assessing the value of different methods of coping with the same structural problem in their own day. This same issue of survival or assimilation remains alive to this day. Berlin Jewry represents not only the beginning of the chain of events leading to the contemporary situation, but it presents, in a particularly extreme form, many of the issues and forces still involved today in the troubled adaptation of Judaism to the larger non-Jewish world.

Notes

Chapter 1 1. In most cases in this volume, religious reform will be written with lower case letters following practice suggested by the historian of the Reform movement, Prof. Michael A. Meyer. The main argument in favor of such a practice is the fact that no institutionalized or ideological Reform movement existed until the 1830s. The term reform itself was rarely used in descriptions of the early experiments at liturgical change. Similarly the terms orthodox and orthodoxy will also generally be written with lower case letters for parallel reasons. On the other hand, Enlightenment (and even Enlightened when referring to the movement is generally capitalized since it was a defined ideological movement in the period under study. 2. Friedrich Nicolai, Beschreibung der koniglichen Residenzstadte Berlin und Potsdam (Berlin: Fr. Nicolai, 1786), p. 240. 3. See Alexander Altmann, Moses Mendelssohn: A Biographical Study (University of Alabama Press, 1973), pp. 346-348. 4. This cynical phrase by Heinrich Heine is quoted often, including in The Jew in the Modern World (eds. Paul R. Mendes-Flohr and Jehuda Reinharz) (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980), p. 223. 5. The works whose subscription lists are used in this study are a. Mendelssohn's Bible translation (1778-1783) b. The Hebrew journal Hameassef (1785) c. Yesod Olam, a medieval compendium of science reprinted and commented upon by Baruch of Shklov (1777) d. Sa'adia Gaon's Emunot ve-De'ot reprinted by Isaac Satanov at the press of the Jiidische Freischule (1789) e. Satanov's Mishle AM/(1789) f. Satanov's Sefer Hamidot based on Aristotle's Ethics (1790) g. Saul Berlin's pseudonymous collection of responsa Besamim Rosh (1793) h. Shalom Hacohen's volume of Hebrew poetry Mata'ei Kedem al Admat Tzafon (1807) i. Herz Homberg, Imre Shefer (Vienna: 1808)

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Notes to pages 7-11

For the sake of comparison the subscription list of a non-Enlightenment work of the same period was also looked at [Jonathan Eibeschiitz, Chldushim al Hilchot Yarn Tov le-haRambam (novellae on Maimonides' holiday laws [1799])]. The dates refer to the dates of the subscription lists. 6. The 1723-1789 tax lists are published in Joseph Meisl (ed.) Pinkas Kehilat Berlin. Protokollbuch der jiidischen Getneinde Berlin (Jerusalem: Ruben Mass, 1962) (hereafter referred to as Pinkas). The 1809 tax list is in the Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People (hereafter referred to as CAHJP), P 17-466. The list of all Berlin Jews in 1812 by family comes from the Leo Baeck Institute (hereafter LBI) Jacobson collection I 82. The 1744 address list comes from LBI Jacobson collection I 37, and the 1812 address list from CAHJP P17-508. The genealogical material comes from Jacob Jacobson's various works, especially his Judische Trauungen in Berlin 1759-1813 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1968); the baptismal records come from the cross-reference cards to all baptized Jews (Judenkartei) in the Evangelisches Zentralarchiv in Berlin, and the list of affiliates of the Beer-Jacobson temple is in CAHJP K Ge 2/83 (unlabeled). 7. The use of occupational categories for the social analysis of Berlin Jewry is beset with problems. First of all, considering the narrow range of occupations within Berlin Jewry it would be hard to differentiate clearly between different groups. A huge percentage of Berlin Jews were listed either as Kaufleute (merchants) or Handelsleute (dealers). Although the former were generally wealthier than the latter, the differences are not always very clear. Second, the occupation listed for an individual in one list frequently differs from the occupation listed for the same person elsewhere. Therefore, in most cases, where I need to differentiate between social classes I have relied on the tax lists (a rough indication of income) rather than on occupation. 8. Some of this genealogical material is presented in four genealogical tables in Chapters 13 and 14. 9. Some pioneering work on measuring the scope of the wave of baptisms has been done by Deborah Hertz in Jewish High Society in Old Regime Berlin (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1988), but this study goes beyond her work both in refining the information on the internal makeup of the conversion movement and in comparing it directly with other facts known about Berlin Jewry at the time.

Chapter 2 1. Azriel Shohat, Im Chilufe Tekufot. Reshit Hahaskala Beyahadut Germania (Jerusalem: Mossad Bialik, 1960). See, for instance, the index of places, which has 33 entries for Berlin, but 42 for Hamburg plus 34 for Altona. The number of entries for Frankfurt am Main (42) also exceeds those for Berlin. Several of the entries for Berlin show traditionalist characteristics for Berlin (e.g., pp. 122, 130, 147). Certainly Berlin nowhere stands out in Shohat's volume as particularly far from tradition. 2. The year 1671 is merely the conventional date for the founding of the community, because there was already a Jewish resident in Berlin for several years before the decree— the court Jew Israel Aaron, who tried to prevent or restrict the arrival of his new competitors. 3. See Stefi Jersch-Wenzel, Juden und "Franzosen" in der Wirtschaft des Raumes Berlin/Brandenburg (Berlin: Colloquium Verlag, 1978) and Jiirgen Wilke's lengthy study of the Berlin French colony in Helga Schultz, Berlin 1650-1800. Sozialgeschichte einer Residenz (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1987). 4. After 1701 it would become the Prussian government.

Notes to pages 12-13

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5. According to Nicolai, Beschreibung, p. 240, Berlin had 9,800 inhabitants in 1680 and 28,500 in 1700. 6. Ludwig Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin (Berlin: J. Guttentag, 1871), vol. 1, pp. 48-49. 7. Selma Stern, Der Preussische Staat und die Juden. vol. 3, pt. 1, (Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1971), pp. 71-80. Even the decree of 1750 made the exception of permitting the settling of newcomers, if they had at least 10,000 Taler in capital. Besides the Ordinarii and Extraordinarii, the Jews of Berlin were allowed a number of communal officials (Publique Bediente) above the regular number. These included rabbis, cantors, beadles, butchers, grave diggers, watchmen, etc. In addition, the individual families with residence permits could hire their own servants (maids and male office assistants), but none of these private servants could legally marry. 8. Nicolai estimates a total population for Berlin of 78,000 in 1732 and 122,667 in 1764 (Beschreibung, p. 240). The number of taxpayers listed in the minute book of the Jewish community during the mid-eiEhteenth centurv were: Year

Number

1726

179 186 223 262 276 309 319 341 392 437 464

1729 1733

1739 1742 1745 1748 1754 1759 1764 1768

9. The number of Jewish taxpayers in the period 1768 to 1789 hovers between 464 and 483 and never goes above 500. 10. In addition the Prussian Jews had to pay 4,800 Rekrutengeld (for the army), 400 Taler Kalendergeld (for a government-sponsored calendar), and 300 for the Monte pietis (public charitable table pawnship). 11. Selma Stern, vol. 2, pt. 1, pp. 43-44, 48-49; vol. 2, pt. 2, pp. 260-261; vol. 3, pt. 1, p. 50; vol. 3, pt. 2, pp. 420-421, 471-473, 495. 12. Such requirements were promulgated in 1725, again annually between 1744 and 1750, and finally after 1763. In 1765 the requirement to deliver 8,200 Marks of pure silver was suddenly raised to 30,000 Marks though in the following year it was reduced again to 18,000. 13. Selma Stern, vol. 2, pt. 1, p. 41; vol. 2, pt. 2, pp. 2, 9, 19, 219-220; vol. 3, pt. 1, p. 51-54, 55-58, 221-224; vol. 3, pt. 2, pp. 511-512, 530-533. 14. Selma Stern, vol. 2, pt. 1, pp. 61-65; vol. 3, pt.l, pp. 137-139. Among the products with which Jews were forbidden to deal were wool and thread, raw hides, foreign hides, tallow, tobacco, sugar, wine, coffee, tea, and chocolate. They could sell dyestuff and spices only in towns where no Christian dealt in such products. The Jews were also very much affected by the general protectionist policies of the two monarchs, which forbade all merchants from exporting raw materials.

200

Notes to pages 13-15

15. Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 82-86. 16. CAHJP—K Ge 2/120. 17. Although this traditional formulation was used to describe the duties of the rabbis of the Beth Hamidrash, their actual duties were a good deal more circumscribed. They were to be prepared to teach a daily Mishna class for an hour after morning prayers and a daily class in Shulchan Aruch (Orech Chaim) for an hour before afternoon prayers. The audience was to consist of members of the Beth Hamidrash and any other community members who wished to attend. When Sanwil Neugas was appointed a rabbi of the Beth Hamidrash in 1766, his duties included to be present all morning to hear the lessons of students from bar mitzvah age to age 18. In the afternoon he was to study together with all who wished to come "whether great classes or small classes (shiuro rabbo veshiuro zuto)." He was not to leave the building for classes in a private home except with two or more persons and then only after afternoon prayers. He was to supervise the study of the yeshiva students (bachurim) "day and night" and to teach a class in Pirke Avot on Sabbath afternoons. Similar duties were set for Rabbi Loeb Farrnbach in 1770 [Moritz Stern, "Das Vereinsbuch der Berliner Beth Hamidrasch," Beitrage zur Geschichte der Judischen Gemeinde zu Berlin, 4 (1931), pp. Ill, XIV, XV]. Until 1743 legacies by community members for Torah study had to be sent to Lissa and Posen in Great Poland. 18. See Pinkas, pp. xxiv-xliv. 19. Pinkas, pp. Ixxvi-lxxvii, 68 (document 74, paragraphs 6-7). 20. Pinkas, pp. lix-lxi, 45 (document 61, paragraph 1). 21. A budget of the year 1811 sets aside 25,435 Reichstaler for government taxes and only 14,019 Reichstaler for communal expenses (CAHJP 17-466, pp. 9-10). In 1792, when the Itzig family who had been granted naturalization settled their accounts with the Jewish community, it was calculated that 2,700 Reichstaler of the 5,642 Reichstaler they paid to the community were to be credited to governmental taxes (from which they were now exempt), while 2,845 was to go for the upkeep of the community (CAHJP P17-642— discrepancy in figures in the original). 22. Pinkas, p. Iv; the list of 22 private services (minyanim) can be found in LBI Jacobson collection I 49, p. 107a. 23. This seems to be indicated by the fact that one of the chief sources of income for the Hebron fund was stated to be money collected on the four regular fast days—Shiva Asar Betamuz, Tisha Be'av, Asara beTevet, and Ta'anit Esther—as well as once on the Monday-Thursday-Monday fast (b'hb) after Passover and once on the fast after Sukkoth, as well as on any other fast day agreed upon by the community in time of trouble (Pinkas, p. 28, paragraph 44). 24. Kede shelau yaavru zeman krias shema utefilo. 25. Pinkas, p. 65, section 61, paragraph 5: "Also no one may bring meat from an animal from the small towns [yishuvim] because the members of our community [bnei kehilosenu] have the custom of forbidding meat from an animal with growths on the lungs [bosor shenisrecho]. And in the small towns they have the custom of allowing it. Therefore it is forbidden and anyone who violates this shall pay a fine of 10 Reichstaler [a considerable sum] and his dishes are non-kosher [vehakelim asurirn], except from those communities which also have the custom to forbid such meat. From them one may get slaughtered meat." A later paragraph, number 25, also seems to require another "glatt kosher" practice: "If there is meat left over at the end of the week and its time may pass [mecht iber die Zeit werden] [i.e., it must be salted and soaked within seventy-two hours of slaughtering] . . .

Notes to pages 15-16

201

then the overseers shall distribute the remainder among the taxpayers so that each shall take several pounds." 26. A proof of the universality of Sabbath observance is a communal rule (1729) complaining of the violation of the Sabbath caused by the custom of grabbing [chotfim] from the food portions for the celebrations of the birth of a boy. Instead the host or waiters were to distribute the portions properly to each guest. The Sabbath violation described here must be a very minor one. It cannot be a matter of carrying on the Sabbath, since Berlin at the time was surrounded by a wall, which would have made carrying permissible. If more major Sabbath violations had been at all widespread, such a minor infraction would not have been mentioned (Pinkas, p. 52, section 64, paragraph 8). Proof that the observance of family purity must have been universal is the discussion of imposing a tax (Pardon) on use of the ritual bath—1739 (Pinkas, p. 87, section 89). 27. Pinkas, p. 30, section 46, dated 1729. Ironically the rabbi appointed in that year, Moses Aaron of Leipnik, was appointed under government pressure and seems to have had few of the qualities claimed for him in the resolution of appointment. Even the letter of appointment of Zvi Hirschel as rabbi of Berlin as late as 1772 speaks of "sharp pilpul" (Pinkas, section 268). Geiger, who reports on the disputes about Rabbi Moses Aaron (Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, pp. 49-50; vol. 2, pp. 85-86), also reports, rather censoriously, about the traditionalism of Berlin Jewry in the first years of the eighteenth century. He especially mentions the interest in Kabbala and the support for the Sabbatian writer Nehemia Chajun who came to Berlin in 1713 and published two books there (Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, pp. 24-25, vol. 2, pp. 48-50). 28. A record of 1745, for instance, discusses the practice of various large communities asher begolus yisroel (in the Jewish exile). In 1754, when the community was forced to buy certain goods from the king at a loss, they declared all members of the community to be fully responsible partners vechau yihye vechau yikaum benenu ad bau gauel tzidkenu (and so shall it be and so shall it occur until our redeemer comes). The last example of such language occurs as late as 1802. In a document dealing with the attempt to convince the communal elder Liepmann Meyer Wulff not to resign his post, the introduction describes the fact that Jewish leaders show God's continuing grace miyaum bo am bechirau al admas nechor (from the day when His chosen people came onto foreign soil) (Pinkas, sections 125, 159, 348). 29. One such example is shown in a document dated 1762 (in the middle of the Seven Years War), which concerns a loan of 6,300 Reichstaler by the community of Halberstadt to the Berlin community. Evidently the community of Berlin felt endangered by war conditions. Therefore article 3 of the contract began "Should our redeemer come with the help of God to bring us up to the Holy Land [Bevau gauel tzidkenu be 'ezras hashem yisborach lehalausenu el hooretz hakedausho] or if another reason should cause our community, heaven forbid, to move and scatter its individual members from here" they would first have to repay the loan to the community of Halberstadt. A similar "Messianic" passage is found in the communal record book of Berlin dated 1746. Again a loan is trken out and the principal is to be kept by the institution (only interest is to be paid out) "until our redeemer comes. And if our redemption should come soon [ve'im tihyeh ge'ulausenu bizman korauv] or if there be a reason which we cannot write down that the community has to scatter," then the loan has to be repaid (Pinkas, # 129, 198. The 1762 example is also quoted by Shohat, Im Chilufe Tekufot, p. 195). This seems to be counterevidence to Gershom Scholem's claim that the failure of the Sabbatai Zvi movement in the 1660s caused Jews to despair of the coming of the Messiah.

202

Notes to pages 16-18

30. See Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, pp. 19-23; vol. 2, pp. 36-46; Selma Stern, vol. 1, pt. 1, pp. 108-110; vol. 2, pt. 1, p. 133; vol. 2, pt. 2, pp. 291-299. 31. Selma Stem, vol. 1, pt. 1, pp. 109-110; vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 264, 267-278; vol. 3, pt. 2, pp. 61, 230-232, 234, 251-253, 257-258, 309-314. 32. Besides the dispute between Markus Magnus and the Liebmanns there were the disputes between Moses Levin Gumpertz and Veitel Heine Ephraim on one side and a clique headed by Meyer Ries and Abraham Hirschel on the other (1750). When the Gumpertz-Ephraim party won, a dispute soon broke out between Gumpertz and his brotherin-law Ephraim—a dispute that not only involved disagreements about communal procedure but also became a bitter commercial battle (Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 272, 235241; vol. 3, pt. 2, pp. 265-269, 270-272; Hugo Rachel and Paul Wallich, Berliner Grosskaufleute und Kapitalisten, vol. 2 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1967) [hereafter referred to as Rachel/Wallich], pp. 59-61.) Other disputes involved the unpopular election of rabbi Moses Aaron in 1729, which led to fistfights and arrests (Selma Stern, vol. 2, pt. 2, pp. 290299). 33. Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 278. 34. The street names, Jiidenstrasse and Jiidenhof, both of them in the main Jewish residential area, received their name from the medieval Jewish ghettos, not from their functioning as Jewish streets after 1671. 35. Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, p. 49, vol. 2, pp. 84-85, reports on an attempt by the king to force Jews who did not own their own houses to move from their rented homes into the barracks between the Kb'nigs gate and the Spandauer gate. There seems little reason to believe this regulation was ever enforced. There are notes in the minute book of the Jewish community dated 1738 and 1741 that speak about accounts and treasurers involved with Baracken and Service (al kol iske habaracken veservis). It would seem that these were two kinds of payments to the government, the first of them intended to buy off the decree concerning moving to the barracks. 36. A government document of 1744 would seem to indicate that the Jewish residence patterns were voluntary. It states "auf der Friedrichs-Stadt sich einzumieten und zu wohnen, wird sich niemand von den Juden deshalb bequemen, weil sie alsdann teils von der Synagoge, teils von andern Juden und ihrer Freunde Umgang, samt deren zuweilen notigen Beihiilfe allzu sehr entfernt sind" (None of the Jews would agree to rent or live in the Friedrichstadt [a section far from Alt Berlin] in part because they would then be too far from the synagogue and in part because they'd be too far from the other Jews and the socialization of their friends as well as their help when needed). Government decrees had stated that in buildings owned by Christians there should be at least one Christian tenant, not only Jews (Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 2, pp. 134-35). All these provisions would seem to indicate that the government did not generally support ghettoization of the Jews. 35. Nicolai, Beschreibung, p. 232, gives the civilian population of the (Alt) Berlin district as 22,017 in 1777. 38. The 114 households on the prestigious streets included 56 on Spandauerstrasse and the others on Konigstrasse, Poststrasse, Heilige Geist Strasse, Neue Markt, and Molkenmarkt. One hundred twenty-four households were located on the following back streets and alleys: Klandergasse, Pankowgasse, Probstgasse, (Nikolai) kirchgasse, Bollengasse, Kraut und Fischmarkt, Heidereutergasse, Hinter der Garnisonskirche, Hoher Steinweg, Kronengasse, Siebergasse, Grosser Jiidenhof, Reetzengasse, Geckhol, Kleiner Jiidenhof, and Hinter der Konigsmauer. Rosenstrasse was once the main street for prostitutes in Berlin and was originally called Hurenstrasse. The list is found in the Jacobson collection at the Leo Baeck Institute (file I 37). 39. Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, p. 43.

Notes to pages 18-55

203

40. Selma Stern, vol. 2, pt. 2, pp. 75-78. 41. Seventeen sold linens (Weisswaren or Leinwand), twelve sold silk, and seven sold wool cloth. Four were clothing dealers. At least fifteen others sold cloth or clothing and other goods as well. 42. There were 15 money changers, seven pawnbrokers, five embroiderers, and five silver deliverers for the mint. 43. Nine of the 14 top Jewish taxpayers in Berlin in 1739 can be identified by occupation. They include 3 in the silk business, 3 money changers, one who was both a money changer ard in the silk business, one pawnbroker, and one who dealt with tea and linens. 44. Nicolai, Beschreibung, p. 240. 45. Nicolai, Beschreibung, p. 2, lists 5,190 French and 1,052 Bohemians alongside 3,374 Jews in Berlin in 1785. Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, p. 44, vol. 2, p. 78, mentions how Berlin Jews helped the Protestant refugees from Salzburg. 46. Nicolai, Beschreibung, p. 241. 47. See, for instance, the usage in Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 386-388. 48. See, for instance, Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 653-654. 49. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 83-84. 50. Selma Stern, vol. 2, pt. 1, pp. 95-102. 51. The record of the case of Jeremias Cohen in the communal minute book states that since he had "broken the fence and acted contrary to the law and religion of our Torah and Jewish custom [poratz geder venohag atzmau neged din vedas taurosenu uminhag yisroel]," he was not to be called to the Torah on the holidays (but could be called on Sabbath and weekdays) and he could not stand in the place of honor next to the Torah reader at all (laamaud lisgari) (Pinkas, paragraph 80). On the Veitel Heine Ephraim-Abraham Posner case, see Leiser Landhuth, "Veitel Heine Ephraim als Anwalt des Judenbarts" [written, 1872], published by Moritz Stern in 1909 as the first of a never-completed series Beitrdge zur Geschichte der Juden in Berlin. Landshuth claims that Ephraim got involved in the case more out of spite against Posner than out of religious conviction. The story of the expulsion of a Bleichroder for reading a German book is mentioned in Meyer Kayserling, Moses Mendelssohn. Sein Leben und seine Werke (Leipzig, 1862) and is repeated in Heinz Knobloch's popular, Herr Moses in Berlin. Bin Menschenfreund in Preussen. Das Leben des Moses Mendelssohn (Berlin: 1982) but not in Alexander Altmann's scholarly biography. Jeremias Cohen and Abraham Posner (also called Abraham Hirschel) were both wealthy members of the community, while Bleichroder was a poor servant. 52. See Chapter 5, pp. 46-47 and notes 19-24. 53. Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 373-375; Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, pp. 75-76; Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 10-25. Among Gumpertz's works were a supercommentary to Ibn Ezra's Bible commentary and a Hebrew compendium on the sciences. He acquired a doctorate of medicine from the University of Frankfurt an der Oder in 1751. Samoscz wrote Hebrew commentaries on the works of the n.edieval Jewish thinkers Yehuda Halevy, Yehuda Ibn-Tibbon, and Bahya Ibn Pakuda. The Marquis d'Argens wrote several pro-Jewish works, notably Lettres Juives (173638) and was one of the many French-speaking members of the Prussian Academy. Pierre Louis Moreau Maupertuis was the president of the academy. 54. The best researched decription of Mendelssohn's first years in Berlin are Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 15-91. 55. The one exception to this is Kohelet Musar, a small journal that Mendelssohn and a friend Tobias published in Hebrew. It seems to have had only two issues. The exact date

204

Notes to pages 22-28

of this early Haskala (Hebrew Enlightenment) work is disputed. Some date it to 1750, others, among them Altmann, to 1758.

Chapter 3 1. Heinrich Schnee's Der Hoffinanz und der moderne Staat. Geschichte und System der Hoffaktoren an deutschen Fiirstenhofen im Zeitalter des Absolutismus (Berlin: Duncker und Humblot, 1953) is particularly hostile to the coin entrepreneurs. RachelAVallich, vol. 2, pp. 291-311, 313-320, are somewhat more balanced, while Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 227-254, tries to explain the economic value and importance of the coin manipulation for saving the Prussian government's finances. 2. Ephraim and Itzig were not themselves related by blood. However, two of Veitel Ephraim's grandchildren—Henne Veitel Ephraim (d. 1776) and David Ephraim (1762-1835, later known as Johann Andreas Schmidt) married Daniel Itzig's children Isaac Daniel Itzig and Rebecca Itzig. Moses Isaac-Fliess was married to Daniel Itzig's sister Bela (d. 1793). Fliess's son Joseph (1745-1822, later baptized as Dr. Carl Ferdinand Fliess) married Daniel Itzig's daughter Hanne (1748-1801). 3. Moses Isaac-Fliess paid 2 Taler, 3 Groschen in 1748 (already a substantial sum), 4 Taler in 1754, and 47 Taler, 3 Groschen in 1764. Veitel Heine Ephraim was already very wealthy before the war. In 1745 he was paying 4 Taler, 18 Groschen, 9 Pfennig in taxes, which rose to 7 Taler, 18 Groschen in 1754 and 31 Taler, 12 Groschen in 1764. All these figures come from Pinkas. These taxes were paid 42 times a year. The taxpayers from the three combined families who paid 26 percent of the total communal taxes were Veitel Heine Ephraim and his sons Ephraim and Joseph, his son-in-law Aaron Meyer (Joresch), as well as Moses Isaac-Fliess and Daniel Itzig. The pattern of greater concentration of wealth at the top of the economic scale continued until the end of the 1780s, at least, with the top 5 percent of taxpayers paying about 40 percent of all Jewish taxes. 4. It has recently been restored by the government of (then) East Berlin. 5. Among the buildings previously purchased by Itzig were Neue Friedrichstrasse 36 (8,000 Taler) and Neue Friedrichstrasse 42 (9,500 Taler). The Itzig mansion was so large that by 1812 it was inhabited by several wealthy Berlin Jewish families, among them Itzig's son-in-law David Friedlander, his grandson Moses Friedlander, and two leaders of the Berlin reform synagogue. 6. Rachel/Wallich, vol. 2, pp. 311-312, 356, 383. 7. Nicolai, Beschreibung, pp. 6, 9, 11, 852, 856. 8. Nicolai, Beschreibung, pp. 784, 787, 838-840. The art collection belonging to Veitel Heine Ephraim's son Benjamin included a Caravaggio and two paintings by Poussin. Among them was The Flight of Mary and Jesus to Egypt. The collection of Dr. Joseph Fliess included Rembrandt's painting of Ahasuerus, Haman, and Esther as well as a painting of Jesus appearing to Mary Magdalene. 9. Felix Eberty, Jugenderinnerungen eines alien Berliners (Berlin: Verlag fur Kulturpolitik, 1925), pp. 251-253. 10. See Nicolai, Beschreibung, pp. 934-935; RachelAVallich, vol. 2, pp. 357-358. 11. Nicolai, Beschreibung, pp. 861, 931; RachelAVallich, vol. 2, pp. 314, 341, 357358. 12. Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 198, 205-208, 210-212; RachelAVallich, vol. 2, pp. 323-333, 359, 361-362. 13. Ephraim's silver refinery was evaluated as being worth 200,000 Taler at the time

Notes to pages 28-31

205

his testament was written in 1773-74. The gold braid manufactory employed over 1,000 workers. In 1782 it had a gross production worth 300,000 Taler (Rachel/Wallich, vol. 2, pp. 323-324, 332-333. 14. The velvet and plush factories of the family of David Hirsch were founded in the 1730s; in 1768 when Jakob Hirsch reduced the velvet factory to 82 looms, he also set up a factory of lighter silk goods with 45 looms. The plush factory, however, had to be given up in the 1780s, since changes in style made plush less salable. Moses Ries, who started his silk factory in 1748, was still considered one of the most important Prussian silk manufacturers in 1783 but had to sell the factory in 1785 to Israel Marcus. Bernhard Isaac (Mendelssohn's employer) began his business in the late 1740s. After his death in 1768 the factory continued to flourish and sometimes reached 120 looms. Another Jewish silk factory owner was Meyer Benjamin Levi, who was most active between 1771 and 1783. Among Jewish silk stocking manufacturers were Moses Meyer Bendix. Abraham Friedlander, the brother of the Enlightenment leader David Friedlander, started a silk ribbon factory in 1779. Isaac Joel founded a sewing factory at the orphanage in 1749. He also founded a wallpaper factory. 15. See, for instance, Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 190, 191, 195, 196, 197, 200, 204. 16. Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 172-173, 174-176. 17. Rachel/Wallich, vol. 2, pp. 536-542. 18. Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 100-107. It would seem that the General Privilege was not intended to suppress noble or guild privileges. A dispute over the meaning of the Generalprivileg came up in 1783 when attempts were made to prevent some Konigsberg Jewish merchants with General Privileges from a type of commerce (Handel iiber Scheffel und Wage) generally restricted to members of the city's merchant guild. Although opinion was divided on the matter, the king finally decided to allow the Jewish merchants to engage in this type of commerce. 19. Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 2, p. 101. When the requirement to purchase porcelain from the royal factory was introduced in 1769, those settled on a General Privilege had to buy a larger amount than those who were merely Ordinarii (Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, p. 222). 20. Schnee discusses these individual grants of General Privilege in Hoffinanz, vol. 1, pp. 186-196. 21. Among the manufacturers who received General Privilegien were Isaac Benjamin Wulff (cotton manufacturer)—1765, Levi Moses Levi—1765 (on condition of starting a stocking factory), Meyer Benjamin Levy—1771 (cotton and silk manufacturer), Moses Ries—1772 (silk manufacturer), Bernhard Isaac's widow—1773 (silk manufacturer), the Hirsch brothers (silk manufacturers)—1774, Israel Markus (manufacturer of partly silken goods)—1785. Among the bankers were Marcuse, Jacob Moses, and Salomon Moses Levy's heirs. See Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 100-107, 197, 198, 199-200, 201-203. 22. Between 1726 and 1759 only 20 different individuals served as parnassim, even though elections were held 12 times during the period and the number of elders was generally five (besides one or two government-appointed Oberdlteste serving for life). Between 1762 and 1803 there were 27 different individuals in 12 elections even though the number of elders per year were generally only four besides the two Oberdlteste. 23. This regulation was almost immediately modified to allow wealthy persons who were incumbents as tovim or ikkurim to serve as elders. 24. Pinkas, pp. 205-207, sections 202-203. The only elders from before the war who were ever elected after the war were Veitel Heine Ephraim and Hirsch David (Pra'ger) who had first been an elder between 1750 and 1759 and then served again in 1768 and 1771.

206

Notes to pages 31-32

Of the postwar elders, only six others had held any prewar office. These exceptions were Nathan Samuel Bendix (elder in 1768, ikkur in 1750), Jospe Hollander (elder in 1762 and 1765, tov in 1759, treasurer in 1756, charity warden in 1753), Itzik Ries (elder 1771, charity warden 1756-1759), Moses Bamberg (elder 1762, treasurer 1747, 1753-1759, charity warden 1744), Jacob Moses (Oberdltester 1768, 1774-1799, charity warden 1759), Juda Veil (elder 1762, 1774, 1780, treasurer 1750). 25. The seven electors were chosen by lot. Before 1768 there were 3 chosen from among rich taxpayers, 2 chosen from medium taxpayers, and 2 from among small taxpayers. After the changes the distribution was: rich—4, medium—2, and poor—1. The change in the distribution of the electors may not really represent a restriction of the vote to a smaller group. It may also have been an attempt to reflect the growth of the wealthy class due to inflation. Whereas only about one in six heads of family qualified as members of the class of rich in the 1740s (as against one-third in the middle and one-half small taxpayers), this had been changed by the inflation and enrichments of the Seven Years War to almost one-third rich, one-fourth middle, and only two-fifths small taxpayers in 1764. The attempt to offset this growth in the number of those qualifying as rich was made in two ways: by increasing the "rich electors" from three to four in 1768, and by raising the boundaries between classes from 1,200 Taler and 3,000 Taler, to 1,800 and 4,000 in 1776. This latter change reduced those in the rich category to about one in four families, and increased the poor families to near one-half. The situation by 1780 would have given one-fourth the taxpayers (the rich) four of seven electors, as compared with one-sixth the families with three of seven electors before the Seven Years War. 26. This seems to appear for the first time in Pinkas, pp. 205-206, section 202. See also Stern, vol. 3, pt. 2, pp. 275-277. Although there is no evidence of a property qualification for election previously, virtually all elders elected before the war had also been wealthy men. An assessment of 4,000 Taler really meant possession of at least 16,000 Taler in capital, since only one-fourth of a person's capital was assessed. 27. Also suspended were regulations forbidding persons to be heads of charity funds at the same time as elders of the community and some of the regulations on having previously held offices. 28. The only move in the opposite direction was a lowering of the property qualification for elders to 3,000 Taler [Pinkas, pp. xlix, 323 (section 312), 399-401 (section 345)] and a temporary decision of 1780 to permit the election of tovim and ikkurim with only an Erech of 2,500 Reichstaler. 29. He had previously been chosen as an auditor (Ro'eh Cheshbonot) in 1780 and 1783 (Pinkas, pp. 326, 342). It is not clear whether he held any more important offices before his election as an elder in 1808. 30. Juda Veil served as an elder from 1762 to 1765, 1774 to 1777, and 1780 to 1783. Hirsch David (Pra'ger) served as elder from 1750 to 1762 and 1765 to 1774. Veil's son Salomon served as a charity warden from 1780 to 1786, as an assistant elder (Tov) from 1789 to 1794, and as an elder from 1794 to 1808. Hirsch David's son David Hirsch served as an elder from 1808 to 1814. 31. The Bendix family was made up of the descendants of the assistant rabbi Samuel Bendix. Joel Samuel Bendix was an elder from 1759 to 1762. His brother Nathan was an elder from 1768 to 1771. Nathan's son Hirsch Nathan Bendix served as an elder from 1789 to 1794 and as a treasurer from 1780 to 1786. Hirsch's brother Samuel Bernsdorff, a later reform Jewish leader, was an assistant elder from 1794 to 1803. A third son of Nathan Bendix, Levin Nathan Bendix, was a treasurer from 1797 to 1803. Hirsch Nathan Bendix was a brother-in-law of David Friedlander. 32. Isaac Esaias Riess was an elder from 1771 to 1774, 1777 to 1780, and 1783 to 1786, having previously served as a charity warden from 1753 to 1759 and an assistant

Notes to pages 32-36

207

elder (Tov) from 1759 to 1762, 1765 to 1768. His brother David (Tevele) was a treasurer from 1783 to 1786 and 1794 to 1797. His son Philipp was an assistant elder (Tov) from 1797 to 1803. 33. After the publication of Hartwig Wessely's Divre Shalom Ve'emet, when the rabbi of Berlin was planning to take action against Wessely, David Friedlander and his brotherin-law Isaac Daniel Itzig prevailed on Daniel Itzig to put pressure on the rabbi and thus prevent any action (Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 483-484). Chapter 4 1. Both Maimon and Baruch of Sklov left Berlin after relatively short stays. In the case of Baruch he was in Berlin less than two years. Mendel Lefin, born in Satanov, also spent only a short time in Berlin (1780-1783) and had his main influence on Jews in Eastern Europe. 2. Moses Mendelssohn came from Dessau in Central Germany. Dr. Marcus Bloch, a world famous ichthyologist, came from Ansbach in South Germany. David Friedlander was born in Konigsberg, East Prussia. Hartwig Wessely, the Hebrew poet, was born in Hamburg but spent much of his adult life in Copenhagen, before going first to Amsterdam and then to Berlin. Isaac Euchel was born in Copenhagen and later lived in Konigsberg before coming to Berlin. 3. In his autobiography, Samuel Lippmann Loewen states that when he came to Konigsberg all the Jews there were uneducated, dirty, and wore long beards except Joseph Seeligmann and Joachim M. Friedlander (LBI- Valentin Collection I 9 [AR 3820] copy 2, p. 12). 4. In 1780 his assessment of 7 Taler, 19 Groschen made him twenty-second of 471 Jewish taxpayers. 5. The highest assessment ever paid by Lazarus Bendavid's father was 2 Taler, 6 Groschen, 9 Pfennig, in 1764. Thereafter his assessment was always below 2 Taler (the approximate boundary between high and medium taxpayers). Bendavid's grandfather reached his highest tax assessment in 1754 when he paid 4 Taler, 7 Groschen, 6 Pfennig, one of the highest assessments of the time. Later his assessments gradually declined. Saul Ascher's assessment of 2 Taler, 16V4 Groschen in 1789 placed him just within the upper tax bracket. His father's highest assessment was 2 Taler, 21 Groschen in the same year. Saul Ascher's paternal grandfather Levin Seligmann served as an elder from 1747 to 1762. 6. The Hebrew poet Hartwig Wessely, by contrast, came from a wealthy family in Hamburg but lost most of his family fortune and had to live as a dependent to others in Berlin. 7. See, for instance, Altmann, Mendelssohn, p. 144, which discusses a letter of Mendelssohn mentioning that his business activities left him little time for other pursuits. David Friedlander retired from his business activities in 1804 to devote himself exclusively to public service. 8. Illustrative of marriage among physicians is the fact that Dr. Marcus Herz married the daughter of Dr. Benjamin de Lemos and Dr. Wolff Davidson married the daughter of Dr. Marcus Bloch. All of the doctors mentioned except de Lemos were authors of Enlightenment works. Among physicians known to have converted to Christianity were Dr. Joseph Fliess (son-in-law of Daniel Itzig) and his nephew Dr. Isaac Fliess, Dr. Ludwig Wilhelm Rintel, and Dr. Finder. 9. Lazarus Bendavid became the director of the Jiidische Freischule in Berlin; Aron Halle Wolffsohn and Joel (Bril) Loewe were directors of the modern Jewish school in Breslau.

208

Notes to pages 37-39

10. See the description by Benjamin Veitel Ephraim of his early education in Chapter 5, p. 51 and note 49. 11. The exceptions include the short-lived Hebrew periodical Kohelet Musar (1750 or 1758). See Chapter 2, note 55. 12. Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 346-361. 13. A partial listing of the works written by Jewish Enlightenment writers in Berlin between 1783 and 1797 shows how prolific the writers were in this period: The translations of the Jewish prayerbook into German by Euchel and by David Friedlander—1786 Wessely's Shirei Tiferet—1789 Euchel's Biography of Moses Mendelssohn—1789 as well as the same author's: "Igrot Meshulam ben Uriyah Ha'eshtemodai"—1790 and his play Reb Henoch—c. 1793 Saul Berlin's Besamim Rosh—1793 and his Ktav Yosher—1794-95 Numerous works by Isaac Satanov, especially his Mishle Asaf—1789-92 Aron Wolfsohn's "Siach Be'eretz Hachayim"—1794—97 and his play Leichtsinn und Frommelei— before 1796 Lazarus Bendavid, Etwas zur Characteristick der Juden—1793 Saul Ascher, Leviathan oder Uber Religion in Rucksicht des Judenthums—1792

14. One exception can be made in the characterization of a moderate older generation and a radical younger one. Saul Berlin, the son of the chief rabbi of Berlin and himself rabbi of Frankfurt an der Oder, was born in 1740, that is between the two generations. His pseudoepigraphic Besamim Rosh, which claimed to be a collection of medieval rabbinic responsa but was in fact his own work, gave some extremely liberal rulings in accord with Haskala desires. He also wrote some strongly antitraditional satires. 15. Somewhat younger writers included Saul Ascher (1767) and Wolff Davidson (1772). 16. From the Bible translation of Mendelssohn, to the literary magazine Hameassef, to the works of Isaac Satanov, to republications of masterpieces of medieval Jewish philosophy (such as Emunot ve-De'ot of Sa'adia Gaon and Kuzari by Yehuda Halevy). 17. The works included in this list were 1. Mendelssohn's Bible translation

2. Hameassef 3. 4. 5. 6. 1.

The reprinting of Saadia Gaon's Emunot ve-De'ot Isaac Satanov's edition of Sefer Hamidot (Ethics) based on Aristotle Satanov's Mishle Asaf Baruch of Sklov's reprinting of the medieval scientific work Yesod Olam Saul Berlin's Besamim Rosh

See Chapter 1, note 5 for the exact references. The other works mentioned in that note were not used in the analysis in this paragraph. 18. Of the male taxpayers alive at the time and having a tax bill over 4 Reichstaler at least once, 59 of 69 were subscribers to at least one of the works. Only one of the seven women in the category was a subscriber. I could find only three women's names among over 250 subscribers to the seven works listed. 19. Of the 60 persons who paid over 4 Taler taxes and who subscribed to some Haskala works, no more than eleven subscribed to only a single work. Twelve subscribed to two works, 8 to three, 8 to four, 10 to five, 5 to six, and 6 to all seven. 20. For more details on the subscribers to the Mendelssohn Bible translation see Steven M. Lowenstein, "The Readership of Mendelssohn's Bible Translation," Hebrew Union College Annual 53 (1982), 179-213. Among the subscribers in 1780 to the Mendelssohn translation were ten of the fifteen individuals with the title parnas umanhig (indicating that they were incumbent or past elders of the community). 21. They were Daniel Itzig himself, his son Isaac Daniel Itzig, his son-in-law David Friedlander, and his brother-in-law Isaac Benjamin Wulff.

Notes to pages 39^4

209

22. He actually held the post from 1780 till his death, along with other communal offices (Pinkas, pp. 211-212, section 209, 258-259, section 253, pp. 325, 343). Mendelssohn was also on the board of the Beth Hamidrash and was an active participant in the society for dowries for brides. 23. In 1773 Mendelssohn traveled to the spa at Bad Pyrmont with Zacharias Veitel Ephraim, and in 1774 he traveled with Zacharias Ephraim's sister Rosel Meyer. Mendelssohn also went on business trips with their brother Benjamin Veitel Ephraim (Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 279-282; Moses Mendelssohn, Gesammelte Schriften, Jubilaumsausgabe (StuttgartBad Cannstatt: Friedrich Frommann Verlag [GiintherHolzboog], 1977) [hereafter Jubilaumsausgabe], vol 19, letters 173, 196, 124, 195). 24. Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 277-278. 25. Joel (Bril) Loewe was the private tutor for David Friedlander's children. Both Salomon Dubno and Herz Homberg started out as tutors of Mendelssohn's children. 26. Joel (Bril) Loewe grew up in the home of Aaron (Joresch) Meyer from the age of nine (Shmuel Feiner, "Itzhak Euchel—Haya'azam shel tenuat hahaskala beGermania", Zion 52 [1987], no. 4, pp. 435^36). Israel Samoscz wrote some of his works while living in Daniel Itzig's home. Marcus Herz and David Friedrichsfeld received some of their early education in the Talmudic academy founded by Veitel Heine Ephraim where Samoscz also found employment. David Friedlander gave aid to Friedrichsfeld and also helped Isaac Satanov find positions as a tutor. The banker Samuel Levy became one of Salomon Maimon's patrons (Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 21-22, 347, 351). 27. See Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 20, 97-98. The original letter to Fromet reads (in Latin letter transcription): "Sie denken zu edel, als dass Sie sich vun einem reichen Berliner einen richtigen Begriff sollte machen kbnnen. . . . So werden Sie alle Gesellschaften mil den hiesigen Aschirim meiden musen, weil Ihr Character sich mit jener Denkungsart nit vertragen will" (Jubilaumsausgabe, vol. 19, p. 27). 28. Michaelis was a professor of oriental lauguages at the University of Gb'ttingen. Quoted in Mendes-Flohr and Reinharz, Jew in the Modern World, p. 43. 29. "The Enlightenment of the Jews which would have been accomplished by degrees, received a powerful upswing all of a sudden. Through it, the Enlightenment lost in strength what it seemed to gain in time. The unfortunate Seven Years War broke out, in which a large portion of the Jews became rich and one began the Enlightenment among this people at the place where other peoples usually end—with the cultivation of the external at the expense of the internal" (Lazarus Bendavid, Etwas zur Characteristick der Juden (Leipzig, 1793), pp. 34-35). 30. Ludwig Lesser, Chronik der Gesellschaft der Freunde in Berlin (Berlin, 1842), p. 46. Chapter 5 1. Alfred Rubens, A History of Jewish Costume (New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1967) has many illustrations of the Sarbal, barren, and ruff as well as the viereckiger Schleier, e.g., illustrations 180, 181, 182, 186-187, 190, 192, 193, 201, 209. Discussion of the dress of German Jews in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is found on pp. 158, 162, 166, 170, 174, and 178. In an oral communication, Prof. Christoph Daxmiiller (of the Institute for Folklore of the University of Regensburg) put forward the argument that the illustrative material on Jewish costume upon which Rubens and others rely is not completely authentic. Rather it comes from a popular type of illustration of various estates and their costumes. It represents a stereotype of how Jews were expected to look and may not have reflected the actual

210

Notes to pages 44—46

ordinary dress of Jews of the times. This provocative idea is worthy of exploration, but, as of now, the pictorial costume material represents our chief source on Jewish clothing of the period. 2. Rubens, Jewish Costume, pp. 166, 170, 174, 178. 3. Pinkas, p. 29, section 45. In Euchel's Yiddish play Reb Henoch, which dates from the 1790s, one of the old-fashioned characters is represented as having his Schulmantel on his back, "though carrying it on his arms in front" on the way to the synagogue on Friday evening. The costume must have already been worn only by the very religious, since an English-speaking character asks if the man is "your vicar." The reply is that he is not, but "is dressed in his sadur days Closh" [Saturday's clothes] (Act 1, scenes 12-13). 4. For instance, Moses Mendelssohn, Daniel Itzig, and Ephraim Marcus Ephraim (see Dolf Michaelis, "The Ephraim Family and Their Descendants (II)," Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute, [hereafter YLBI} 24 [1979], p.233). Nachum T. Gidal's pictorial history, Die Juden in Deutschland von der Romerzeit bis zur Weimarer Republik (Giitersloh: Bertelsman Lexikon Verlag, 1988), p. 114, shows Daniel Itzig with a powdered wig and no other head covering. On p. 113, Naphtali Herz (Hartwig) Wessely is similarly depicted. 5. Among the men depicted with such garb are Daniel Itzig and David Friedlander, the latter a radical antitraditionalist. In a description of the way Henriette Herz's father, Dr. Benjamin de Lemos, dressed when visiting patients, it is said that he wore cloth or silk or even velvet clothes decorated with braid, silk stockings, and a three-cornered hat. At home he wore a a red dressing gown (Schlafrock) and a matching cap (J. Fiirst, Henriette Herz, Ihr Leben und ihre Erinnerungen [Berlin: Wilhelm Hertz, 1850], pp. 12-13). 6. See above, p. 21 and note 51 of Chapter 2. 7. Alttnann, Mendelssohn, p. 97, reports that "in his thirtieth year he began to wear a wig (Stutzperrucke)" Later in his life Mendelssohn seems to have given up wearing the wig. 8. This description is quoted in many books, among them Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, p. 371, and Ruth Glatzer (ed.) Berliner Leben 1648-1806, Erinnerungen und Berichte (Berlin: Rutten und Loening, 1956), p. 227. 9. This point is mentioned in Heinz Knobloch's popular biography Herr Moses in Berlin. Bin Menschenfreund in Preussen. Das Leben des Moses Mendelssohn (Berlin: Das Arsenal, 1982), p. 249. 10. Shohat, Im Chilufe Tekufot, pp. 55-57 and the late seventeenth century poem "Di Beshraybung fun Ashkenaz un Pollack" reprinted in Max Weinreich "Tsvey Yidishe Shpotlider oyf Yidn," Filologishe Shriftn 3 (1929), 537-553 (see lines 122-124 on p. 543). 11. "Die Ehrwiirdigkeit des Bartes will ihnen jetzt nicht mehr so einleuchten wie frtiher; wenigstens erscheint es denen, welche ihn beibehalten, nicht eigentlich mehr notwendig, sondern sie lassen ihn nur noch wegen des Geredes der Leute stehen." 12. See the description of the appearance of the orthodox leader Isaac Gerhard in Chapter 6 (p. 65 and note 37). 13. Mendelssohn, like many Jewish men of his day, seems not to have worn a beard until he got married. He did, however, refrain from shaving during the period between Passover and Pentecost and during the three weeks preceding the Ninth of Av as was required by traditional Jewish practice, even before his marriage (Altmann, Mendelssohn, p. 96). 14. Altmann, Mendelssohn, p. 97; Gidal, Juden in Deutschland, p. 134, depicts the mathematician Abraham Wolff bareheaded but with a full beard, and Aron Beer, the cantor of the Berlin community, with a three-cornered hat and only the hint of a beard. 15. In Isaac Euchel's play Reb Henoch, written around 1793, one of the villains is a Zwicker by trade. 16. Altmann, Mendelssohn, p. 97, where they are referred to as "heilige Kopf-Zeuger."

Notes to pages 46-47

211

In the portrait of Miriam Itzig nee Wulff (wife of Daniel Itzig), too, a bonnet seems to cover her hair completely (Gidal, Juden in Deutschland, p. 115). 17. Hans Ostwald, Kultur- und Sittengeschichte Berlins, 2nd ed. (Berlin: Verlagsanstalt Hermann Klemm, 1926), p. 587, reproduces the picture of an eighteenth century jiidische Trodlerin, 18. See, for instance, the portrait of Bliimchen Friedlander and its caption in Rubens, Jewish Costume, pp. 136-137, as well as the portraits of the salon women in Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 4-6, 196. 19. A typical passage from 1729 is the following "Be'im es wollt ein b'b (baal habayis) oder kamo b'b (balebatim) kol a' (echod) revi'is bosor ke'achas nehmen, aso derfin hane'emonim nit geben wie kol a" (echod) vor langt, rak soil unter die Vierteil die be'auso pa'am kosher sein gaurel gemacht werden, gam gar kuchers magin bichlal gaurel sein." The German equivalent might read "Wenn ein Hausherr oder einige Hausherren ein Viertel Fleisch gemeinsam nehmen, so diirfen die Aufseher nicht jedem geben was er verlangt, sondern es soil ein Los gezogen werden iiber die Viertel, die zu jener Zeit koscher sind, und die Garkiicheninhaber konnen in dem Los auch inbegriffen werden." 20. So, for instance, after 1748 so appears instead of aso, wir first replaces mir (we) in 1745, and double negatives seern to disappear after the 1740s. 21. A passage from a communal declaration of 1745 against coin clipping gives an example of an attempt to approach closer to High German. It is clearly still transitional and probably closer to Yiddish than to German: ". . . damit lehabo keiner ch'v (chas vesholom) daran nichshol werden mochte, haben sich hoalufim roshim p'um (parnase umanhige) kehilausenu . . . misasef giwesen, un' kol charomos vehoarurim . . . konfermirt auf solche Leit die mehayaum vehol'o Gold o Silber Matbeos . . . entweder bischneiden o be'aufen acher harnatbeos ver gringern o solche kelim so zu bischneiden hamatbeos gibraucht werden wissendlich in ihrem Haus halten" (Pinkas, p. 118, section 125). 22. For instance, the dative plural fur denen or the use of the genitive case des ausund eingangs. 23. A sentence like the following (1775), "So wahre es ihm unmoglich bei den ihm gemachten decord mis'chiroso al yad alufe 15 anoschim zu bestehn," while not pure High German, was far closer to High German than any communal record from a generation earlier. 24. The High German zwar first appears in 1745 and becomes common in documents of the 1770s and later. On the other hand, the Yiddish forms losen and musen are still used in the 1770s instead of High German lassen and mtissen. 25. The following document dated 1791 is rather typical of these "High German" entries: "In einer ausser ordentliche Asefo mikol alufe hakohol beziruf 32 anoschim benebst noch ein aus Schuss migdaule baalei arochos dikhilosenu ist kehayom haze al pi rov hadeos beschlossin worden, dass die zwei mahligen gemachten gaurolos al mekaumos beys hakneses schel alufei hakohol, um das dadurch ein gegangenes Geld jahrlich zur Deckung des Defizits in Absicht der Hachnosos hakehilo angewendet werden soil, weil sie lerov hakehilo missfallen und sie wiinschen dass sie stetig biyedei alufei hakohol noch ferner verbleiben sollin, fur noil und nichtig erklahrt worden, der Gestalt dass alle die jenige die bischnei gaurolos haniskorim das Geld lekupas hakohol bereits bezahlt, solches mikupas hakohol wiedrum zuruck erhalten, so wie die ausgeloste und noch aus zu losende mekaumos beves hakneses lealufe kohol zuruck fallin und von dem Gewinner wieder gegeben werden muss." Or the following from 1794 "Nach dem wir nun beasefas kol ho'edo den Antrag des Ober Landes altesten erwogen und gefinden billig lef oer beys hakneses hagdaulo ultau'eles kupas hakohol ist so habin wir dato den Antrag nach obin stehend vun . . . Daniel [Itzig] selbstin gemachtin Bedingung angenommen und bewilligt. Wir habin die offerierten neun

212

Notes to pages 47-49

hundert reichis Taler baar lekupas hakohol erhaltin. Und quittieren hier mit auch iiber den Empfang in Form rechtens . . . Geschenke. . . ." 26. Herbert Paper, "An Early Case of Standard German in Hebrew Characters," Field of Yiddish 1 (1954), 143-146, deals with a document published in 1765; see also Mordechai Eliav, Hachinuch Hayehudi Begermania biyemei Hahaskala ve Haemantzipatsia (Jerusalem: Jewish Agency, 1960), p. 21. 27. It is characteristic that even Friedlander in his pamphlet arguing for High German is guilty of the grammatical lapse of writing "an die deutsche Juden" instead of the correct "an die deutschen Juden." 28. Aron Hirsch Heymann, Lebenserinnerungen, ed. Heinrich Loewe (Berlin, 1909), pp. 47^8. Heymann seems to be referring to the period around 1800. 29. In Jacob Jacobson's Die Jiidische Biirgerbiicher der Stadt Berlin, there are a number of citizens (all after 1809) who sign their names in Hebrew script or are stated to be unable to write their names in German. 30. Such objections were recorded in 1744 and 1751. Selma Stern, vol. 3, part 1, pp. 170-71. 31. In Johann Christoph Doederlein's review of the prospectus to Mendelssohn's Bible translation, he states, "We showed the sample [of the translation] to several Jews of considerable learning. They had difficulty reading the German and making sense of it." Doederlein's review was published in his journal Theologische Bibliothek (Leipzig, 1782). Whether such observations were also applicable to Berlin cannot be determined. 32. Among the most famous of these are Lazarus Bendavid, Etwas zur Characteristick der Juden (1793) and Saul Ascher, Leviathan oder iiber Religion in Rucksicht des Judenthums (1792). In the same year Sabattja Joseph Wolff published his anonymous Freymuthige Gedanken iiber die vorgeschlagene Verbesserung der Juden in den Preussischen Staaten (1792). 33. K.W.F. Grattenauer, Erkldrung an das Publikum iiber meine Schrift: Wider die Juden (Berlin: Johann Wilhelm Schmidt, 1803), p. 12. The passage specifically refers to the lectures given by Jews in a disgusting dialect on subjects they do not understand. 34. Varnhagen in his Denkwurdigkeiten (vol. 1, p. 459) mentions that because he used unumlauted verb forms for the third person in words like fallt, fahrt, schlagt, and tragt (instead of standard fallt, fahrt, schlagt, and tragt) Schleiermacher told him he was speaking like a Jew and that some people had already asked whether Varnhagen was Jewish. The description of Henriette Herz's childhood in the 1760s and 1770s mentions that Herz's father's (Benjamin de Lemos) German speech, like that of other Sephardic Jews, was distinguished from the Jargon (i.e., Yiddish) of his coreligionists (Fiirst, Henriette Herz, p. 13). Peter Freimark's article "Language Behaviour and Assimilation. The Situation of the Jews in Northern Germany in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century," Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute 24 (1979), 157-177, deals mainly with Hamburg. 35. See, for instance, Freimark, "Language Behaviour," pp. 167—168 and Max Weinreich, Geshikhte fun der Yidisher Shprakh. Bagrifn, Faktn, Metodn (New York: YIVO, 1973), vol. 3, pp. 295-297. 36. Eberty, Jugenderinnerungen, pp. 109, 257. Eberty was the great-grandson of Veitel Heine Ephraim, converted in 1826 at the age of fourteen. Another indication of the influence of Berlin dialect on Berlin Jews is the fact that the minute book of the community transcribes names with G with the Hebrew yod reflecting typical Berlin dialect [e.g., Pinkas, pp. 203-205, section 201 (dated 1762) speaks of Yeneralin Seidlitzin (i.e., Generdlin Seidlitz), Yeneralleitnand (i.e., Generalleutnani). 37. Fiirst, Henriette Herz, pp. 87-89. 38. Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 99-100.

Notes to pages 49-51

213

39. Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 9, 328. Mendelssohn was unable to attend a performance of Miss Sara Sampson by his friend Lessing in 1756 because he was in mourning for his mother. 40. References to Jewish women and Christian noblemen on promenades in the public gardens are to be found in two vernacular (mixed Yiddish and German) plays by Aron Halle Wolfsohn (Leichtsinn und Frommelei) and Isaac Euchel (Reb Henoch oder was tut me damit). The Wolfsohn play is reprinted in Zalmen Reisen, Fun Mendelson biz Mendele. Hantbukh far der Geshikhte fun der Haskole-Literatur mil Reproduktsyes un Bilder (Warsaw: Farlag Kultur-Lige, 1923), pp. 37-68. References to the promenades are found on pp. 40 and 42. The Euchel play is printed in Jacob Shatzky (ed.) Arkhiv far der Geshikhte fun Yidishn Teater un Drame (Vilna-New York: YIVO, 1930), vol. 1, pp. 94-146. 41. One such Putzstube of a Jewish family in the early nineteenth century is described as follows: Wilhelm Schadow, a friend of the family, had painted the four seasons on one wall in gray on gray with white highlights. There was a beautiful carpet, furniture of light birch wood, a small chandelier, a number of etchings in the style of Raphael. Between the two front windows there were built-in closets for tea, sugar, chocolate, and cloth. When they were alone, the family ate in a small back room rather than in the Putzstube (Eberty, Jugenderinnerungen, pp. 112-113). 42. Nicolai, Beschreibung, pp. 725-849. 43. The autograph album of Rebecca Ephraim nee Itzig is in the Itzig family collection (AR 114, no. 2) at the Leo Baeck Institute. Also at the LBI is the autograph book of Bunette Oppenheim of Konigsberg, a relative of the Itzigs (AR 1952). See Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 195. 44. The address list for Berlin in 1812 lists at least 196 Jewish women as maids (Dienstmagd) and 25 as cooks (Kochiri). There were also a number of others listed as serving men or women (Aufwarter). 45. Eberty, Jugenderinnerungen, pp. 116, 121, 253. Eberty states that both the male servants of his aunt Hanne and the servant of Madame Sara Levy wore uniforms. 46. See Chapter 9 on the salons including p. 105 for other examples of Jewish socialization with non-Jews. 47.

Number of Jewish Medical Students Registered

Number per Year

1730-54 1755-63 1764-70 1771-80 1781-90

3 13 21 28 33

0.1 1.4 3.0 2.8 3.3

1791-97

15

2.1

Year

Source: Monika Richarz, Der Eintritt der Juden in die akademischen Berufe. Jiidische Studenten und Akademiker in Deutschland 1678-1848 (Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1974), pp. 227-229. Most of these medical students were not residents of Berlin. 48. Altmann, Mendelssohn, p. 24. It does seem that Mendelssohn did attend a course in philosophy given by Heinsius at the Joachimsthaler Gymnasium as a guest pupil (Altmann, p. 23). 49. Benjamin Veitel Ephraim, Uber meine Verhaftung und einige andere Vorfalle meines Lebens (Berlin, 1807), pp. 82-86. The Enlightenment works he mentions reading were Montesquieu's L'Esprit des Loix and Hume's Discours Politique. Benjamin Ephraim's Jewish mathematics teacher, Swa, was a friend of Mendelssohn and a member of the Enlightenment circle.

214

Notes to pages 51-55

50. Among the books he records having read were the Koran, Rousseau's Emile, Voltaire's La Pucelle and Therese philosophe as well as Wolffs metaphysics, kabbalistic works, and medical works. 51. Lazarus Bendavid, Selbstbiographie, in (Lowe, ed.) Bildnlsse jetztlebender Berliner Gelehrten mil ihren Selbstbiographien (Berlin, 1806), pp. 7, 9-16, 18-22, 31-34, 36-44, 55. The young man whom he accompanied to the university was Isaac Beer Fliess who was graduated from the university at Halle in 1791 (Jacobson, Jiidische Trauungen, p. 345). 52. Leo Baeck Institute—Valentin family collection I 9. 53. "mil einer Pensionsanstalt verbundene Schule." 54. Ftirst, Henriette Herz, pp. 16, 17-18, 20-21. 55. Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, p. 84; vol. 2, pp. 134-136; Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 2, pp. 345-348, 350, 356-361. 56. Eliav, Hachinuch, pp. 23-24, Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, p. 84; Moritz Stern, "Der Jugendunterricht in der Berliner jtidischen Gemeinde wahrend des 18. Jahrhunderts," Beitrage zur Geschichte der judischen Gemeinde zu Berlin, 5 (1934); Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 2, pp. 538-540, 548-549; Judenkartei—Evangelisches Zentralarchiv Berlin. 57. The subjects listed are given in a report on the school for the years 1802-1803 (CAHJP HM 9879 [from Merseburg Deutsches Zentralarchiv Rep 76 alt I 540 Kurmark]). 58. In the case of Mendelssohn it is well known that he observed the Sabbath, the dietary laws, and many other Jewish ritual laws. The evidence illustrating this is voluminous. 59. Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 275-276. The decision was that Mendelssohn could ride to Potsdam, but that he would have to walk out of the gate of Berlin before entering the coach and would have to descend from the coach before entering the gates of Potsdam. 60. Nicolai, Beschreibung, p. 852. 61. Quoted in Michael A. Meyer, The Origins of the Modern Jew; Jewish Identity and European Culture in Germany 1749-1824 (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1967), pp. 40. 62. Quoted in Mendes-Flohr and Reinharz, Jew in the Modern World, p. 37. 63. See, for instance, Altmann, Mendelssohn, pp. 403—405. Altmann's discussion deals with the reasons why Salomon Dubno quit Mendelssohn's Bible translation project. In a later reflection (1789) Dubno states that one reason was the fact that some of the participants "were . . . under suspicion of having thrown off the yoke of Tora [sic]." Altmann feels that while some of Dubno's claims may be tendentious, there is no reason not to believe that Dubno had really felt this way about some in the Mendelssohn circle in 1780. 64. The letter, dated September 22, 1783, is found in Jubilaumsausgabe, vol. 13, pp. 133-134. 65. See Chapter 8, p. 100 and notes 44 and 45 and Chapter 12, p. 143 for information on observance of the dietary laws; and Chapter 12, pp. 140-141 and note 26 for information on the numbers affiliated with the first reform temple in Berlin.

Chapter 6 1. See Chapter 2, p. 18 and note 39. 2. The Jewish community had a hostel for poor transients outside the Rosenthaler gate of the city. Before they could be admitted to the city, transients had to submit to an investigation by Jewish officials. One particularly colorful description of the proceedings at the

Notes to pages 55-56

215

hostel is given in entries in The Autobiography of Solomon Maimon (tr. J. Clark Murray) (London: East and West Library, 1954), pp. 96-98, which deal with the period of the late 1770s. The famous incident (which has never been authenticated) of the examination of Moses Mendelssohn at the gates of the city is another illustration of the impact of the restrictions on the popular mentality. 3. To convert a residence permit from a small town to a large city cost 300 Taler. To convert it for a medium city was only 150 Taler, and for a small city 100 Taler. Beginning in 1764 new residence permits (Schutzprivilegieri) were to be given only in exchange for 1,000 Taler in Berlin, 400-500 Taler in other large cities, 200-300 in medium cities, and 100-200 in small cities (Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 1, pp. 60, 61). 4. CAHJP K Ge 2/18. 5. This ranking does not take into account the entire Itzig family, which had been naturalized in 1791. Including them would have added a few more to those at the top of the status pyramid. 6. See, for instance, Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 40-42, who equates the protected families with the wealthy and states: "One historian claimed that there were 600 Jewish families in the city; other scholars estimated that there were 450. Using the first estimate, 600, as the denominator, the 300 to 400 wealthy protected families would constitute almost half the families. Using the smaller estimate, 450, the wealthy protected families would constitute as much as two-thirds of the community. . . . By any measure, the Berlin community was therefore top-heavy with rich financiers able to pay the extensive taxes and still prosper." Raphael Mahler, A History of Modem Jewry 1780-1815 (London, 1971), p. 139, quotes a contemporary description of the Berlin community as consisting of: "50 fabulously wealthy bankers; about 150 well-to-do merchants; 150 rich industrialists and free professionals; and about 100 middlemen-pedlars, 'court Jews,' and petty 'house Jews' (Hausjuden), the remaining 150 families lived on charity." Although Mahler stresses the importance of the very poor, he also sees the wealthy as the majority of the community. 7. Among those over 50 in 1812 (born 1762 or earlier), there were 86 men and 31 women who are listed without any other family members, are not listed as widows or widowers, and are not also listed in Jacobson's Jiidische Trauungen. This would mean that well over one in every four Jewish men in Berlin over the age of 50 had never been married—a figure not found normally in virtually any population. (The percentage of unmarried women over 50 was only about 13 percent). Among those in their forties (born between 1763 and 1772) there were 96 men and 55 women who were unmarried. The professions (including former professions of the retired) of the unmarried men over 50 show only a few with prestigious professions that might have enabled them to establish themselves legally: 2 physicians, one dentist, 2 bankers, 1 money changer (Wechsler), 2 leather dealers. No fewer than 17 were listed as Handelsmann or former Handelsmann (petty dealer), at least 16 were commercial employees (Handlungsdiener) or bookkeepers, and 5 were manservants or messengers. Eleven were teachers of various sorts. For the 31 unmarried women over 50, 26 are not listed with an occupation. The five who are listed were all maids. Of the 55 unmarried women in their forties, at least 19 were listed as maidservants. This would seem to indicate that many of the older unmarried Jewish Berliners remained unmarried because they did not have sufficient wealth to acquire residence rights needed for marriage. 8. The following is the correlation between highest tax recorded and "highest" legal status attained for all persons married between 1759 and 1789 (and those of their parents listed in Jacobson's Jiidische Trauungen) in Berlin:

216

Notes to pages 56-58 Highest Tax (Reichstaler)

Generally Privileged

Ordinarily Protected

Extraordinarily Protected

Publique Bediente —

OverS

32

29

—

2-5

18

73

—

2

1-2

8

121

11

4

Below 1 (but paying some tax)

2

147

21

22

This table is based on Jacobson, and on the tax lists in Pinkas. 9. Berlin Jews were actually assessed on only one-fourth of their total property for the Jewish communal taxes (Erech). The official division between middle and lower income for much of the eighteenth century was 1,800 Taler of Erech or 7,200 Taler of total property. 10. The estimates for general income levels in Berlin are very rough ones calculated by Helga Schultz, Berlin. Sozialgeschichte, pp. 150-157. Schultz's estimates, like my own, are based on a great deal of guesswork and fairly sparse documentation. Interestingly, she, too, calculates the income of merchants on the basis of 5 percent of their capital. Schultz's figures are for the first half of the eighteenth century, while our figures come from the second half of the century. Because our figures do not take into account inflation, they may somewhat exaggerate the prosperity of the average Jewish taxpayer. Even though our estimate for average income of Jewish taxpayers far exceeds the estimated income of the average Berliner, it was far lower than Schultz's estimate of the income of Berlin merchants (3,600 Taler). (Perhaps, there is a tendentiousness in Schultz's figures, since as an East German she may have wished to emphasize the gap between workers' income and the income of the bourgeoisie.) Fewer than two dozen Berlin Jews would have had such a high income in 1780 according to our extrapolations from the Jewish tax tables. 11. The calculation was made as follows: In 1780 Jews had to pay their tax amounts 42 times a year. Nine Groschen times 42 equals 378 Groschen, or 15 Taler, 18 Groschen a year. In the 1790s the annual tax was calculated at 1 7/8 percent of the Erech. A tax of 15 Taler, 18 Groschen would mean an Erech of about 835 Taler. The Erech was calculated at one-fourth of total wealth. Therefore the total wealth would have been about 3,340 Taler. If income were 5 percent of wealth, then it would be about 167 Taler a year. 12. In the crisis year of 1809, 22 widows and 19 male heads of household with residence permits were receiving charity from the Jewish community. A report from David Pra'ger to David Friedlander in June 1809 states that these are the number who are widows or "baale batim baale kiyumim mekable kitzvo" (householders with residence permits who are recipients of poor relief) (CAHJP -K Ge 2/18). Of 101 persons listed in the 1770s under the heading "kitzvo" (poor relief), fifty-three seem to have been male household heads and 32 were widows. It is not certain that all of these persons received charity in the same year (LBI-NY Jacobson Collection 149 pp. 116a118a). In 1812 the sum of 1,200 Reichstaler was asked for grain for Passover food for the poor. 13. On the Kronengasse.Probstgasse, Nikolai Kirchgasse, Nikolai Kirchhof, Nagelgasse, Bollengasse, Siebergasse, Eyergasse, and Reetzengasse, 60 Jewish residents were listed. Of these 11 are listed as on charity, 8 as unemployed, and 12 as domestics (Diener, Dienstmagd, Wartefrau). Other occupations of Jews on these alleys included: old clothes dealer (alte Kleider or Trodler) (6), teacher (5), and commercial employee (Handlungsdiener or Handlungscommis (3). Only three paid any communal taxes, and only 9 were listed on the communal tax lists.

Notes to pages 58-62

217

Ismar Freund, Die Emancipation der Juden in Preussen unter besondere Berucksichtigung des Gesetzes vom 11. Marz 1812, (Berlin, M. Poppelauer, 1912), vol. 2, p. 396, quotes a Prussian official in 1811 who states that "in the Ratzen-, Kronen-, Lieber[«'c], Nagel-Gasse almost every house has an old clothes business (alter Kleider-DorminoHandel)." 14. CAHJP - P17-522 (case of Jacob Moses), P17-523 (case of insane woman in workhouse), P17-524 (case of infanticide). 15. And even many of the mansions of the elite were not really private mansions in the modern sense (at least not in 1812). The Itzig mansion on Burgstrasse, for instance, was home to the following mainly unrelated wealthy families: David Friedlander and his son Moses, a banker; Bernhard Lindau, banker; the wealthy Rentier Ruben Gumpertz; and the widow Odenheimer nee Springer. In addition four maids and an apprentice were listed. The Ephraim mansion at Poststrasse 16 housed the merchant Samuel Bu'tow and his commercial employee Raphael Schlesinger, the jeweler Michel Frankel, the banker Joseph Frankel, and the money changer Joseph Abraham as well as four maids; the Isaac-Fliess mansion at Spandauerstrasse 21 housed the wealthy Rentier Beer Fliess and his bookkeeper as well as his impoverished relatives Fanny Bernhard and (the converted) Philippine Cohen. 16. According to Nicolai, Beschreibung, p. 2, the section in which most Jews lived "Berlin an sich selbst," or Alt Berlin, contained 1,121 front houses and 564 rearhouses (Hinterhauser). 17. The most common occupations listed for modest taxpayers (under 1 Taler, 1 Groschen) in Jacob Jacobson's Judische Trauungen (marriages before 1813) were Handelsmann (15), Kleiderhandel (10), Backer (5), Drucker/Setzer (5), Goldscheider (5), Pfandleiher (5), Petschierstecher/Wappenstecher (4), Wechsler (4) (total number of modest taxpayers with known occupations—113). Of those listed in 1809 as modest taxpayers (under 25 Taler) or too impoverished to pay, the following were the most common occupations: Kaufmann (11); Rentier (10), Handelsmann/handelt (9), Alte Kleider (8), Wechsler (7), Pfandleiher (6), Makler/Courtier (5), Lederhdndler (4) (total number of small taxpayers with known occupations—98). The differences between the distribution of occupations can be explained in a number of ways. The restrictions on occupation of the eighteenth century as well as the existence of special categories of communal employees encouraged individuals to list themselves in noncommercial categories such as seal engravers, bakers, gravediggers. Because 1809 was a year of crisis, a considerable number of persons in commercial occupations who might otherwise have been relatively prosperous suffered economically and were listed as modest taxpayers or unable to pay. 18. The following is the correlation between some of the most common occupational titles and tax amounts in 1809: Tax

Listed for no taxes

1-49

Old clothes

15

2

6

1

__

Banker

4

2

11

2

3 6

1

Handelsmann (dealer)

13 14

2

—

—

Kaufmann (merchant)

39

4

32

8

6

18

5

—

8

2

1

—

Rentier

26

4

8

4

1

3

Wechsler (money changer)

23

1

13

2

2

1

Pawnbroker

50-74 75-99 (Taler)

100+

Occupation

Not listed

—

218

Notes to pages 62-64

19. See Chapter 5, p. 46. 20. Government regulations had initially allowed only 40 Jewish families to own houses. After the Seven Years War this was increased to 70, still a small minority of Berlin Jews. 21. See Chapter 3, p. 31. 22. See Chapter 5, note 61. 23. Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 2a, pp. 558-561. The correspondence dates to the year 1773. 24. Maimon, Autobiography, pp. 96-98. At a later date Maimon fell afoul of the "Jewish police officer L.M." whose job it was to keep track of strangers in Berlin, because Maimon had a copy of Mendelssohn's edition of Maimonides' Millot Higgayon (On Logical Terms), ibid., pp. 107-108. 25. Lazarus Bendavid, Selbstbiographic, pp. 53-54. After being given this message, Bendavid packed up his prayer shawl and phylacteries and left the synagogue never to return again. 26. At least two additional subscribers to the Mendelssohn Bible translation (Nachum Pick and Salman Rintel) joined the burial society during the 1780s and 1790s. 27. Of the 45 men who served on the board of the Beth Hamidrash at various times between 1769 and 1783, 16 were subscribers to Mendelssohn's Bible translation and only nine belonged to the burial society in 1778. 28. See Chapter 12, note 25. 29. The tendency of even quite assimilated Jews to adhere to traditional forms relating to memorializing the dead is not peculiar to the Berlin community. It is a noticeable feature of most modern Jewish communities in the Western world. Many who otherwise never attend services are careful not to miss the memorial service (Yizkor) or to fail to recite the Kaddish on the anniversary of a parent's death. 30. A systematic study of the epitaphs in the old Jewish cemetery in Berlin would give a good picture of changing Jewish attitudes during the eighteenth and early nineteenth century. Although the old cemetery was almost completely destroyed by the Nazis during World War II, the gravestone inscriptions were recorded in great detail by the nineteenth century Berlin Jewish local historian Leiser Landshuth. These transcriptions by Landshuth are to be found in the Jacobson collection at the Leo Baeck Institute. Unfortunately time did not permit me to make such a systematic study of the thousands of such epitaphs. The remarks about the epitaphs here and in the following footnotes are based upon a fairly small and unsystematic sample. 31. Just a few samples of such epitaphs can give a picture of their style and of the remnants of traditionalist attitudes: The epitaph of Joseph Ephraim (son of Veitel) in 1786 speaks of him as a pious and upright man (ish kosher veyoshor), a warden of the society for poor brides, and as learned (hataurani). [Landshuth catalog number 662 (hereafter: L)] The expression hataurani is found frequently in epitaphs of the last quarter of the eighteenth century and seems to indicate a layman with traditional learning. Another similar expression also found even in the early nineteenth century, horaboni, seems to have a similar meaning. The epitaph of Loeb Samuel Helfft (died 1800) is another example of a very traditional style. It reads: "An upright man who walked in perfection (ish yoshor holach betomim) went early and late to the synagogue (hishkim veheriv levels hatefllo)." [L1059] Women's epitaphs also long expressed very traditional ideas. An example is the tombstone of Rosche nee Samson wife of Secharia Veitel Ephraim who died in 1803: "A precious and upright woman (Isho yekoro viyeshoro), a woman of valor and glory of her

Notes to page 64

219

husband, a God-fearing person from her birth (Yiras h' hoy so meodoh), she supported the poor with her gifts." These late eighteenth century and early nineteenth century epitaphs seem little different from earlier epitaphs such as that of Salman, son of hataurani Wolff Bruch, who "walked in the ways of the perfect and set aside times to study Torah nights and days, who sat among the learned and occupied himself with good deeds and charity for the many"—died 1742. [L 877] 32. A few translated examples of these poetic epitaphs suffice to show their mixture of traditional and modem sentiments: The epitaph of Dr. Markus Herz (1803): A poor child of an obscure family (Chashuchini) was I born, Suffering the burden, weak from youth, I studied I sought the truth, I investigated knowledge and thought (mezimo) And in the garden of the trees of life I planted sprouts of knowledge I poured the juice of their harvest to all who sought it Some drank and became wise and some I gave life and strength I was kind to those who loved me, in their hearts they too loved me Those jealous of me opened their mouths—but in their hearts they respected me If I tasted the delights of princes and bitter difficulties They are both vanity, but I worked my full share And the work became hard for it was much and my powers were small My body returned to the dust and the living God gathered my spirit [L 612] Epitaph of Ephraim Veitel (1803): Oh passerby, weep upon this stone For here they have brought a precious man to the grave For many years his charity ruled But woe for those who received it, his goodness has now gone On his lips was engraved charm He was a shield for the poor and for the needy a shelter A good father, a dependable husband, a deliverance for his relations He lived by his trustworthiness, he took care to avoid wrong doing And blessing remains, he strengthened the teachers of knowledge He married off the daughters of the sick, rescuing the poor Those who knew him why do you cry because he is gone? His soul returned to God, who will still give him life [L 636]

Some of the epitaphs are known to have been written by well-known leaders of the Enlightenment. For instance, the epitaph of Isaac Daniel Itzig written by his brother-inlaw David Friedlnder (in Hebrew): Patrician son of patrician (shua ben shua) Who was brought up upon scarlet (amin aley tola) Brought up upon the knees of righteousness and knowledge His soul emptied the cup of the strong wine In his youth he drank from a full cup Alas he also drank its dregs. O passerby take it to heart Do not take up a song of woe (al tiso kino) If in the evening he lies down with tears In the morning, [he rises] with song! [Psalm 30, 6] [L 680/2746]

33. The first epitaphs in German in Hebrew letters seem to come from about 1811. The sentiments in such German epitaphs are often of a different type than the earlier tradi-

220

Notes to pages 64-66

tional ones, although they too sometimes include traditional elements. Among the noticeable changes found in nineteenth century epitaphs, different from almost all eighteenth century ones, are the frequent mention of birthdates or age (rarely found before 1812), and the use of such stereotyped phrases as "Here lie the earthly remains of . . ." (Hier ruht die irdische Hulle von . . .). Also quite noticeable in the nineteenth century epitaphs is a sentimental style that was virtually absent in the earlier century. This sentiment is especially common in women's epitaphs. For example: Here lies Hanna Lipmann widow Mertens. Died February 10 eighteen hundred and twenty three in her seventieth year. She possessed all the virtues of her sex and was the tenderest mother (die idrtlichste Mutter) of her children who mourn her loss deeply [L2154] Bliimchen Friedlander, the daughter of the worthy Daniel Itzig, wife of David Friedlander. Born 17 lyar 5512, died first day of Shavuos 5572 (1812). Fear of God, benevolence, good manners formed the beautiful soul, her countenance and form announced their pure radiance (deren holden Glanz). Here lie her earthly remains. The earth is diminished by one noble one, heaven has increased by one angel. After a happy and undisturbed relationship of forty-two years, her husband engraved these words of truth on her memorial stone, with emotion, thankfulness and devotion [L615] 34. CAHJP - K Ge 2/120. 35. Ruben Gumpertz, an important leader of early reform, was Rendant (paymaster) of both the Bikur Cholim society for care of the sick and of the Zanduko for circumcisions for the poor. The later reformer Samuel Nathan Bernsdorff was an officer of the Beth Hamidrash, and Liebermann Schlesinger was head of the Ohel Jescharim. 36. Adam's relative Abel who sees that he will not eat without his hat and that he ate only kosher, advises him to eat in a kosher Speisehaus. He told him, "I would have given you, but you won't want to eat nonkosher yet" (Du wirst dock noch kein Treifessen wolleri). He also told him, "If you plan to remain in Berlin, you won't remain like this long" [Jacob Adam memoirs (Memoir #2 /M.E. 317 in Leo Baeck Institute), pp. 21-22, 23]. 37. Adam, Memoirs, p. 16. In the memoirs he is referred to merely as "Bankier Goever," but the Pinkas shows that the head of the Talmud Torah was Eisik Gewer, a banker, who later took the name Isaac Moses Gerhard. (For the name change see Jacobson collection I 82 individual G16/46.) 38. Adam, Memoirs, pp. 20-21. 39. Because Fraenkel had so many prominent relatives in Berlin, the community had to appoint an additional member of the rabbinical court, since the new rabbi was disqualified from cases involving relatives (Pinkas, pp. 108-109, documents 111-112). 40. The leading families also quite commonly sent their sons for training as doctors in the late eighteenth century (this is especially true of the descendants of Moses IsaacFliess whose son and grandson were both physicians) but almost never trained them as rabbis. This was quite different from earlier traditional patterns. Among leading Berlin families with physicians as sons-in-law were the Itzigs (Daniel Itzig's son-in-law, Joseph Fliess), Marcuses (Abraham Marcuse was father-in-law of Dr. Jeremias Wolff), Moses Bernhard (partner of Moses Mendelssohn, whose daughter Hitzel married Dr. Isaac Beer Fliess; they later divorced and each married a Christian), and Bendixes (Hirsch Bendix's daughter married Dr. Abraham Herz Bing). 41. Adam, Memoirs, p. 22. The identification of Lazarus Horwitz as Leiser Zilz comes from Pinkas, p. 510. Horwitz was born in 1747 and died in 1818. Jacob Jacobson, in Die

111

Notes to pages 66-72

Judenburgerbucher der Stadt Berlin (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1962), p. 148, lists Jacob Adam's relative as Joachim Hirsch Fromm, merchant, Rosenthalerstrasse 54, born in Chodziesen (Grand Duchy of Posen) in 1776. Originally called Joachim Hirsch Abel. Married on May 26, 1817, to Frommet, daughter of Lazarus Horwitz, member of the Jewish court. 42. A detailed analysis of the relative social characteristics of orthodox and reform will be given in the chapter on the reform movement. Table 3 excludes those who were either exempt from taxation or whose tax amounts are unknown. The figures in each case are the highest recorded tax amounts per person. Table 3 also does not give a complete picture of all the traditionalists in Berlin. Some traditionalists, notably the members of the board of the Beth Hamidrash were noticeably richer than the members of the burial society. Others, like the wardens of the traditional charity funds Eretz Israel, Hebron, and Talmud Torah, were somewhat poorer: Burial Society

Beth Hamidrash

Charity Wardens

N

Tax

N

%

N

4 Taler or more

10

14.7

15

34.1

1

4.8

8

11.8

12

27.3

4

19.0

2 Taler-3 Taler, 23 Groschen, 1 1 Pfennig

%

%

1 Taler-1 Taler, 23 Groschen, 11 Pfennig

18

26.5

14

31.8

9

42.9

Some tax but less than 1 Taler

32

47.1

3

6.8

7

33.3

Total who paid any tax

68

44

21

43. Heymann, Lebenserinnerungen. Excerpts from these memoirs have been printed in volume one of Monika Richarz (ed.) Judisches Leben in Deutschland (Stuttgart: Deutsches Verlag Anstalt, 1976). Heymann, who was born in 1802, depicts a community in which the older generation speaks almost exclusively in Yiddish, in which the Jewish teachers are often Polish Jews, and in which Jewish religious practices are strictly observed. Heymann may exaggerate some of his stories for comic effect, but the picture he draws of the credulous, often superstitious Jewish inhabitants of Strausberg sounds more like a description of a Polish shtetl than of a community just outside Berlin in the first decades of the nineteenth century.

Part III 1. Henri Brunschwig, Enlightenment and Romanticism in Eighteenth Century Prussia (trans. Frank Jellinek) (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1974) [original title La arise de I'etat prussien a la fin du XVIIIe siecle et la genese de la mentalite romantique (Presses Universitaires de France, 1947)]. 2. According to Kant, human reason was capable of having definitive knowledge only about matters of which it could have experience. Metaphysical questions such as whether the universe had a beginning or was eternal, or whether the soul was immortal were beyond the possibility of rational proof. So, for instance, the Critique contained a section refuting Mendelssohn's arguments in Phaedon that had attempted to prove the immortality of the soul based on Wolffs and Leibniz's systems. 3. Brunschwig depicts the emergence of Romanticism in the 1790s as much more than a mere literary movement. "More than a literary movement, the first generation of Romantics in Germany is a moral and psychological phenomenon largely caused by the social crisis" (p. 245). Brunschwig attributes much of the air of crisis to economic problems caused by overpopulation, which the Prussian government and Prussian society were unable to cope

222

Notes to pages 72-80

with. Whether or not this explanation is totally satisfying, he does adduce evidence for a sense of crisis and "miraculous thinking" in many aspects of popular mentalities and not merely in literary expression. Brunschwig depicts the early Romantic writers, especially the Schlegels, as radicals in all things. "In their endeavor to create this new world, Schlegel's friends did not think of literature first. This world must be endowed with all its needs. It must be given a religion to replace that of a world in dissolution, a morality to take the place of the conventions on which society is based, a new political constitution. Within this paradise literary masterpieces would later come into being as a matter of course" (p. 233).

Chapter 7 1. Soon after the appearance of Dohm's work, several European states made partial attempts to improve the status of the Jews. Among these actions were the Toleranzpatent of Joseph II of Austria (1781), laws in Baden in 1782, and the Lettres Patentes for the Jews in Alsace issued by the French government in 1784. 2. It is characteristic, for instance, that when the Count de Mirabeau wrote his essay in favor of Jewish rights he entitled it Sur Moses Mendelssohn, sur la reforme politique des juifs et en particulier sur la revolution tentee en leur faveur en 1753 dans la Grande Bretagne (London, 1787). Mendelssohn and those like him were proof that political change would have the desired effect on Jewish life and make the Jews at large a useful part of society. 3. Reinhold Lewin, "Die Judengesetzgebung Friedrich Wilhelms II," Monatschrift fiir Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums, neue Folge, 21 (1913), 86-87. 4. Lewin, "Judengesetzgebung," pp. 87-88. 5. Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 1, pp. 37^15; Lewin, "Judengesetzgebung," pp. 88-91. 6. Lewin, "Judengesetzgebung," pp. 213-214; Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 1, pp. 4950. 7. Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 1, pp. 48^9; Lewin, "Judengesetzgebung," pp. 216220. Additional provisions of the report included a partial abolition of mutual responsibility, improvement of Jewish education through use of the German language, the hiring of native teachers, and the setting up of a teachers' seminary. Jews would have to keep their commercial records in German and close their businesses on Sundays. Jews could enter agriculture only on vacant lands and enter only certain crafts and only with the approval of the guilds. Certain crafts, especially those that worked on orders such as carpenters, masons, tailors, shoemakers, blacksmiths, locksmiths, saddlemakers, and wagonmakers were to remain closed to them. Those taking up agriculture or crafts were to be forbidden all trade. 8. These included the creation of a Jewish commercial guild, the abolition of special taxes, the submission of the Jewish community to all the regular courts, and the opening of all crafts to Jews. 9. Lewin, "Judengesetzgebung," pp. 223-227; Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 1, pp. 50-54. 10. Ludwig Geiger, "Bin Brief Moses Mendelssohns und sechs Briefe David Friedlanders," Zeitschrift fiir Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland 1 (1889), 262. 11. Among the numerous passages mentioning the reform plan are the following: Act 1, Scene 4 SHAMOSH (communal beadle): Es is wieder was vun die Kammer gekummen machmas a neien Reform [a message has come from the Chamber about a new reform]

Note to page 80

223

HENOCH: Sau lang sellen meine Sonnim Chaule Rosch haben, sau lang daraus nix werin werd [May my enemies have a headache as long as nothing will come of it]. ZWICKER (beard trimmer) [a traditionalist and villainous character]: Da her ich noch a mohl reiden wie a Jid. Worum nit lieber gor schmadn? [Now I hear you talking like a Jew. Why not just convert (if you're going to have a reform like that?)] Act 1, Scene 7 DOKTOR [the Enlightened hero]: Bravo! Bravo! Das 1st eben was wir wunschen. . . . 1st die solarische Verbindung aufgehoben, steht jeder fiir sich unter unmittelbare Aufsicht des Staats. Der wird sicher schon Mittel finden, unseren Fehlern entgegen zu arbeiten, ohne alle Bande aufzulosen, die jedem gutdenkenden Menschen heilig sein miissen. Mogen sie jetzt immerhin schreien wie sie wollen, in der Folge werden sie doch wohl einsehn, das diese neue Verfassung eben die kraftigste Stiitze des Judenthums sei [Bravo! Bravo! This is just what we desire. . . . Once collective responsibility is abolished, everyone will be on his own under the direct supervision of the state. It will certainly find the means to work against our failings without abolishing the bonds that must be holy to every right thinking person. Let them scream now as much as they wish; in the end they will understand that this new constitution will be the most powerful support of Judaism]. Act 1, Scene 12 CHAUSOM STECHER (seal engraver—a traditionalist): Was gibts Chiduschim? [What's the news?] ZWICKER: Er fragt mir, klomer vun den neien Reform wisst ihr nischt? [He's asking me, as if you don't know anything about the new reform]. ZWICKER: Sau viel kenn ich eich sagen, es is wieder a Geseire gekummen. Die Chadoschim, . . . ruhen noch nit, alle Morgen sitzt Kahal [I can tell you this much. Another evil decree has come. The new fashioned ones don't rest. The community council has to meet every morning]. CHAUSOM STECHER: Ich hab kahn Maure. Ich hab heint erscht a Chausom bei a Srore abgebracht . . . hab ich a Sche in die Vorkammer warten gemusst, hab ich mir derweil a bische mit den Eved in Schmues in gelost, un ihr weisst doch bei a Orel i kan Sod. . . . Sau viel kennt ihr mir nachsagen, sie sennen mit all ihr Chochmes nisht pauel. R' Sender, R' Kalmen uchedaume lau, losen sichs Auscher schel Kaurech koschten, um die Geseire mewatel zu sein. Ich sag immer sehr gleich, al shlausho deworim hoaulom aumed, al Geld, al Geld, al Geld" [I have no fear. Just today I brought a seal to a high official . . . and I had to wait an hour in his antechamber. So in the meantime I got into a conversation with his servant, and you know a Gentile can't keep a secret. . . .You can repeat this much of the story. With all their cleverness they won't accomplish anything. Reb Sender and Reb Kalmen and others like them will spend the fortunes of Korach (a legendary treasure) to annul the evil decree. I always say the clever proverb: the world stands on three pillars—on money, on money, and on money]. Act 5, Scene 10 NATHAN: Mittler weile kommt wills Gott die Reform zu Stande, und dann kann er sich selbst etablieren [In the meantime if the reform goes through, with God's help, he can establish himself]. HENOCH (schadenfroh): Der wird wills Gott nit zu Stand kommen, das wahss ich besser [It won't go through, with God's help. I know better]. NATHAN: Wohl Ihnen sie ware schohn la'ngst zu Stande, sie batten vielleicht alle die traurigen Vorfalle nicht gehabt [It would have been good for you if it had gone through long ago, then you wouldn't have had all these unfortunate occurrences].

224

Notes to pages 80-81

HENOCH: Wenn die Jieden Baal Meloches un Baal Milchomes sennen, werden keine Pauschim unter sie sein? Wem wellt ihr das anreden? [If the Jews are craftsmen and soldiers, there won't be any evildoers among them? Whom are you trying to talk into believing that?] NATHAN: Mein lieber Freund! Ich kann freilich nicht behaupten dass es besser sei ein Schuhflicker als ein Bankier zu sein; sehe wohl ein, dass es bequemer ist auf einem Sopha zu sitzen, als Schildwache zu stehen. Ist aber doch alles besser als betteln und betriigen. Nicht wahr, wir miissen doch nun einmal zu sehen, den Zustand unsers Volks zu bessern, und wir konnen unmoglich die Rechte des besseren Burgers erlangen, wenn wir nicht auch seine Pflichten ubernehmen [My dear friend! I certainly can't claim that it is better to be a cobbler than a banker. I'm well aware that it's more convenient to sit on a sofa than to stand guard. But all of that is better than begging or cheating. Isn't it true that we have to see how to improve our people's position? And we can't possibly acquire the rights of the solid citizens if we don't take on their duties as well]. See Chapter 5, note 40. 12. Only three of the twenty-seven were not in the upper quarter of the Berlin tax list. Three of the petitioners (Isaac Nathan Liepmann [Liman], Abraham Nathan Liepmann [Liman], and Abraham Caspary, and perhaps a fourth, Marcus Robert-Tornow, brother of Rahel Varnhagen), later converted, and at least ten others (Moses Salomon Levy, Joel Samuel van Halle, Wolff Levy, the widow Chaie Marcus [mother of Rahel Varnhagen], Hirsch Nathan Liepmann [Liman], Aron Wessely, Abraham Friedlander, Liebermann Schlesinger, Marcus Marcuse, and Benjamin Veitel Ephraim) had children who later converted. This seems to represent an even larger proportion of conversion than was the norm for the Berlin elite. The petitions are printed in Ismar Freund, "David Friedlander und die politsche Emanzipation der Juden in Preussen," Zeitschrift fiir die Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland, 6 (1936), 86-92, and Freund, Emancipation, vol. 2, pp. 91-96. 13. This feeling that the old system favored the poor unduly is expressed in several of the petitions of the protesters. It seems also to have reflected government intentions. The official government proposal of January 24, 1792, states that "the completely propertyless Schutzjuden pay nothing, the majority of the rest pay much less than would come out from an equal division, so that the Schutzjuden in Berlin alone . . . pay about one half of the whole sum and in Berlin again only a few rich families pay the greatest part of this half . . . which those with property will not be able to bear in the long run." (Freund, Emancipation, vol. 2, p. 79). It would also seem that the new assessment system was intended to be based on income to a lesser extent than had been the traditional taxing system. The new tax assessments were to last for life and would not change even if the taxpayer's income rose or fell. Friedlander's letter to Meier Eger, in February 1792, seems to imply that the new tax assessments might not be based on income but on other considerations. He writes: "Z.B. wenn auf mein Loos fa'llt 10 Thaler jahrlich in die Kasse des Konigs zu geben, so gebe ich 10 Thlr. jahrlich so lange ich lebe (Geiger, "Brief Moses Mendelssohns," p. 265). 14. Freund, Emancipation, vol. 2, pp. 95-96. 15. The naturalized Jews had paid a substantial proportion of the overall taxes of the Berlin Jewish community. In 1792 the twelve naturalized taxpayers had annual taxes of 5,642 Taler, 2,700 Taler of which were earmarked for government taxes. By comparison, the communal budget of 1811 set aside 25,435 Taler for payments to the government out of a total of 39,454 Taler (CAHJP- P17-466, pp. 9-10). The community negotiated an agreement with the naturalized families by which each family would make a voluntary

Notes to pages 81-83

225

contribution for ten years. Several years after the agreement ran out there was a great dispute about whether the family members would continue their contributions (see CAHJPP17/641-642). 16. See Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 2, pp. 147-150. 17. See, for instance, Meyer, Origins, pp. 61, 69. 18. In 1793 Friedlander had written to the Prussian official Schrotter that those Jews who would not serve in the army were not entitled to the rights of citizenship (Meyer, Origins, pp. 196-97, note 29). 19. In one case David Friedlander himself actually handed in a request on behalf of his absent relative Wolf Friedlander of Konigsberg (Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 1, p. 64)— the date was April 26, 1793. 20. In 1810, when the naturalized descendants of Daniel Itzig objected to paying regular annual contributions to the Jewish community on principle, David Friedlander (who was a communal elder at the time) was the only member of the family who disagreed. He was even willing to pay the contributions assigned to his sons so they would not be denied the rights of community members (especially the rights of burial) CAHJP- P 17-641). 21. The chief critic of Friedlander is the Israeli historian Raphael Mahler, who is influenced both by Marxist principles tending to identify ideology with economic positions and by Zionist ideals offended by Friedlander's desire for assimilation. He claims they looked out only for their own interests and cared little for the interests of the common people among the Jews. Michael Meyer rightly characterizes most of these criticisms as unfair. One often detects rather resolute and even defiant answers to government proposals and attitudes behind the "most humble pleas." If one assumes that the Berlin elite (including the twenty-seven protesters mentioned earlier) were only following their economic interests, one is left with the complicated question of where their interests really lay. On the one hand, they would certainly benefit from the abolition of solidarity for taxes since that placed an extra burden on solvent families. On the other hand, it is not completely clear that the abolition of the power of the Jewish community over the individual would be an unmixed benefit for them. After all, it was members of the elite (for instance, Friedlander's relatives the Itzigs) who controlled the communal apparatus. Making most communal functions voluntary (something Friedlander clearly favored, as shown by his letter to Meyer Eger) might weaken the power of the elite families over others. Still it would benefit them in giving them more personal autonomy. This value of personal autonomy was important to members of the Berlin and Konigsberg elites. The power they wielded in the corporate structure no longer seemed worthwhile to them if it made them subservient to communal norms. It was their desire for freedom to live their lives in the unconventional ways that they had begun to adopt that was at least as important to them as freedom from paying the taxes for the insolvent poor. There may have been another motivation, equally subtle compared to economic considerations. The elite did want to distance itself from other Jews, not so much to receive specific advantages as to improve their social standing in the eyes of the non-Jews. This consideration may have been a reason why certain elite families pursued their own individual naturalization. The fact that they did so does not, however, mean that they had no desire to help their fellow Jews achieve equal rights. Rather they thought that if the achievement of equal rights for all could not yet be achieved, at least they personally wished to benefit from them. 22. Pinkas, pp. 348-349, includes an entry thanking Wulff for his efforts in procuring the abolition of the "subsidarische Verbindung."

226

Notes to pages 83-86

23. Sendschreiben an Hochwurden Herrn und Oberconsistorialrat und Probst Teller von einigen Hausvatern jildischer Religion. 24. Jacob Katz, Out of the Ghetto, The Social Background of Jewish Emancipation, 1770-1870 (New York: Schocken Books, 1973) pp. 85-86, 237, indicates that Grattenauer wrote an earlier pamphlet Uber die physische und moralische Verfassung der heutigen Juden (Berlin, 1791), which made some of the same arguments he was to make in his later work Wider die Juden (1803). The earlier pamphlet did not gain nearly the interest or circulation of the 1803 book, however. 25. Haman, the villain of the biblical Book of Esther, became the archetype of Jewhaters. 26. The original proposal is printed in Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 2, pp. 228-244. Paragraph 8 stated "all native Jews possess the same civil rights as the Christians in so far as this law does not contain provisions which deviate from this." The law then details many restrictions. Among the restrictions in the proposal were exclusion from public offices, restriction of residence to the cities except for farm laborers, subjection to the military conscription "in the strictest manner possible," prohibition of early marriages, restriction in the permitted number of Jewish merchants to a stated percentage of the total number of merchants, prohibition of selling second-hand goods, and limitations on land purchase and on the possession of mills or taverns, etc. 27. Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 1, pp. 165—166.

28. Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 1, pp. 91-95 (restrictions on the right to settle of the descendants of second children), 213, 216-217 (collection of back taxes and silver deliveries); vol. 2, pp. 414-419. 29. Most noteworthy in this regard is the oft-quoted memorandum of David Friedlander of January 18, 1811, listing 50 Jews who had converted in recent years. Friedlander's view of such conversions (despite his earlier letter to Teller) was quite negative. He writes, "Wenn das Ubel ist (und fiir die Judenschaft ist es in Absicht der Moralitat und in finanzieller Riicksicht ein sehr grosses Ubel) so war es meine Pflicht . . . hieriiber furchtlos meine Angabe zu beweisen" [If this is an evil (and for the Jewish community it is a great evil with regard to morality and to its financial aspect) then it is my duty . . . to prove my claim without fear] Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 2, pp. 421-422. 30. In 1822, the government revoked its permission for Jews to hold academic posts (Freund, Emanzipation, vol. 1, p. 239). 31. Paragraph 29 of the Emancipation law of 1812, which abolished the competence of special Jewish courts, made an exception permitting the court assigned to Jews in Berlin to remain in force temporarily. 32. Examples of eighteenth century use of multiple surnames and nicknames: Moses Mendelssohn was always referred to in Hebrew letter documents as Moshe Dessau. Daniel Itzig was called Daniel Jaffe or Daniel Berlin. Jewish communal documents were alphabetic by first name. The descendants of Veitel Heine Ephraim took the family names Ebers, Eberty, and Edeling. Members of the Bendix family became Bendemann, Bentheim, and Bernsdorff. Changes in first names sometimes occurred before the 1812 Emancipation Law. Examples are already found in Euchel's play of the 1790s Reb Henoch in which several characters have both Jewish and German names: "Herzche-Hartwig," "Elke-Elisabeth," "HodesHedwig." Moses Mendelssohn's daughter Brendel took the German given name, Dorothea in 1794, while married to Simon Veil. An example of an orthodox Jew who Germanized his name is Isaac Gewer (Eisik Gewer in Hebrew) who became Isaac Moses Gerhard.

Notes to page 86

227

In translation the satirical verses by Heinrich Heine read: So I straightway Took a droshky and rushed to the Court Investigator Hitzig, Who was formerly called Itzig. Back when he'd been still an Itzig, He had dreamed a dream in which he Saw his name inscribed on heaven With the letter H in front. What did this H mean? he wondered— Did it mean perhaps Herr Itzig, Holy Itzig (for Saint Itzig)? Holy's a fine title—but not Suited for Berlin.

Heine, Heinrich, The Complete Poems of Heinrich Heine. A Modern English Version (trans. Hal Draper) (Boston: Suhrkamp/Insel, 1982) p. 674. The quote is from "Jehuda ben Halevy," iv, stanzas 38-42 (part of book 3 [Hebrew Melodies] of Heine's Romancero). 33. Extensive examples of Friedlander's minutes and correspondence in Hebrew script from the years 1809 to 1812 when he served as a communal elder can be found in CAHJP P 17-451, P 17-522, K Ge 2/89 and K Ge 2/18. Examples of curt German replies to impassioned letters from the Jewish communities of Zempelburg and Krojanke in 1813 in Hebrew and Judeo-German can be found in CAHJP K Ge 2/119 (see also note 34). 34. The letter from Zempelburg in Hebrew was dated 10 Adar 1813 (March 1813); the letter from Krojanke in German in Hebrew script was dated March 11 of the same year. The letter from Zempelburg in flowery and emotional words speaks of "the greatness of the evil [tzoro] that has come upon us" when it speaks of conscription. "Woe and woe [oy va'avoy] the Jewish children without power . . . will be scattered away from the holy [Jewish] communities, they will sit in God's secret places hearing the noise of the flocks, great the troubled hearts of their parents and teachers. . . . The sun has become darkened for us at noon, we who live in a land salted with the poverty of its inhabitants." They asked the Berlin community to intervene in classic "shtadlan" fashion "perhaps God will change the heart of the king and his officers to the good and will take away the uniforms of war [machlotzos haneshek] from the congregation of Israel. . . . We will not stint our property . . . to give ransom for our souls all that is assessed upon us." The letter from Krojanke speaks of how the new military rules are a violation of the Jewish religion and asks the Berlin community to use their influence. They, too, offer to pay any amount necessary to cancel the military regulations. They declared their willingness to make any sacrifice on the altar of the fatherland, except where it contradicts religion "the true purpose of our existence" (CAHJP K Ge 2/119). The answer to these two letters (in German!) was a curt refusal and advice to deal directly with the authorities. The contrast between the two West Prussian communities who wished to retain their exemption from the army even at the expense of special taxes and those of the Berlin leadership who rejoiced in their new citizenship is glaring. The Jews of Krojanke and Zempelburg saw the new situation of army service as a "catastrophe" not as a final freedom from oppression.

228

Notes to pages 86-87

35. Martin Philippson, "Der Anteil der judischen Freiwilligen an dem Befreiungskriege 1813 und 1814," Monatschriftfiir die Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums 50 (1906), 220-247. 36. See Jacobson, Judenburgerbilcher, pp. 55-93. 37. The address list of Berlin Jews in 1744 can be found in Leo Baeck Institute, Jacobson Collection 1-37. The 1812 address list is in CAHJP P 17-508. The following are figures per police district for Jewish taxpayers in 1812: (Districts 10, 11, 13, 14, 15, 18, 22, 23, and 24 had no Jewish taxpayers and a total of only 20 resident Jewish individuals listed.) District

Number of Jewish Taxpayers

1

89

2

101

3

31

4

65

Total 1-4

286 16

5 6

6

7

4

8

3

9

2

12

1

16

1

17

25

19

2

20

3

21

1

Total 5-24 Total overall

64

350

Jewish families on back alleys and back streets (including Rosenstrasse and the back alleys Probstgasse, Nikolai Kirchstrasse, Bollengasse, Kronengasse, Siebergasse, and Reetzengasse) in 1744 numbered 179 but only 12 taxpayers (though there were many poor Jewish nontaxpayers) in 1812. Judenstrasse had 46 Jewish households in 1744 and 24 Jewish taxpayers in 1812, Spandauerstrasse had 56 and 58, respectively. The more prestigious streets (Burgstrasse, Poststrasse, Neue Friedrichstrasse (not built until 1746), Heilige Geiststrasse, and Konigstrassc had a total of 28 Jewish households in 1744 and 145 taxpayers in 1812. 38. In the address lists of 1812, 118 persons are listed as merchants and 112 as Handlungsdiener (commercial employee). One hundred ninety-six women are listed as maids and 28 as cooks. There were 27 bookkeepers and 29 petty traders (Handelsleute). Only 88 persons were listed as free professionals, 45 of them as teachers, and there were an additional 73 students. In 1764 there are 14 of 416 taxpayers listed as exempt. By 1780 they were 30 of 471,

Notes to pages 87-92

229

which jumped to 106 of 477 by 1789. In 1809 the number of those listed but paying no tax had risen to 141 of 491.

Chapter 8 1. There were, for instance, the crises of the years immediately after the Seven Years War (1763, 1770-1774). During the crisis of 1763, Moses Mendelssohn wrote his friend Nicolai:" Wenn zu den 16 Banquerouten die sich schon geaussert haben, noch 16 ... hinzukommen, so ist der 33. ganz gewiss, Ihr Freund Moses Mendelssohn" [If sixteen more bankruptcies join the 16 which have already happened, then the 33rd will surely be your friend Moses Mendelssohn] (Schultz, Berlin. Soiialgeschichte, pp. 298-299; Rachel-Wallich, vol. 2, p. 451). 2. The average tax of the twelve bankers listed in all tax lists between 1769 and 1789 went from 5 Taler, 18 Groschen, 6 Pfennig in 1768 to 8 Taler, 4 Groschen, 6 Pfennig in 1780 and 8 Taler, 10 Groschen, 11 Pfennig in 1789. The average tax of the eight pawnbrokers went from 1 Taler, 9 Groschen, 4 Pfennig in 1768 to 1 Taler, 12 Groschen, 6 Pfennig in 1780 and then declined sharply to only 20 Groschen, 3 Pfennig by 1789. The average taxes of four listed as silk manufacturers also declined sharply in the 1780s from 3 Taler, 4 Groschen, 6 Pfennig in 1780 to 1 Taler, 14 Groschen in 1789. (If we include velvet manufacturers, and include also those who appear in only one or two of the tax lists, the average declines from 5 Taler, 13 Groschen, 10 Pfennig [12 individuals] to 3 Taler, 15 Groschen, 4 Pfennig.) Only the two Bernhard brothers and David Friedlander still were substantial taxpayers among the silk manufacturers in 1789. 3. Selma Stern, vol. 3, pp. 191, 195-202, 205-208, 212; Rachel/Wallich, vol. 2, pp. 280. The firm of Bernhard and Mendelssohn claimed in 1782 that its founder Bernhard Isaac had employed as many as 120 looms (they do not give any date) (Selma Stern, vol. 3, pt. 2a, p. 659). In 1783 they employed 39 looms in Potsdam and 38 to 40 in Berlin. 4. Several members of his family had been active in communal affairs in Berlin in the eighteenth century. 5. Liepmann Tausk (Wulff) is listed as a subscriber to Mendelssohn's Bible translation, Sa'adia's Emunot ve-De'ot, Saul Berlin's Besamim Rosh, Satanov's Mishle Asaf and his edition of Aristotle's Ethics, as well as Shalom Hacohen's Mata'ei Kedem al Admat Tzafon. He was not, however, a subscriber to Hameassef. 6. Rachel/Wallich, vol. 2, pp. 393-429. Beer was the fifth wealthiest taxpayer in the Jewish community in 1809 and the second wealthiest by 1814. Beer was born in Frankfurt an der Oder. Besides his sugar business he also made much money from banking and commerce. 7. Wulff was first chosen a charity warden in 1777, a treasurer in 1780, and an elder from 1783 until his death. 8. Stefi Wenzel, Jildische Burger und Kommunale Selbstverwaltung in Preussischen Stddten 1808-1848 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1967), pp. 37, 40-42; Rachel/Wallich, vol. 3, pp. 27-52. One of Baron Delmar's parties is said to have cost 5,000 Taler. 9. Rachel/Wallich, vol. 3, pp. 98-108. 10. Schnee, Hoffinanz, vol. 1, p. 173; Rachel/Wallich, pp. 373-375. 11. Rachel/Wallich, vol. 2, pp. 362-380. 12. Rachel/Wallich, vol. 2, pp. 338, 341, 343-353. 13. They were Zacharias Friebe, the son of Veitel Ephraim's granddaughter Rosette

230

Notes to pages 92-94

Frankel, Zacharias's aunt Roschen, the wife of his mother's brother Heimann Z. Ephraim; and Veitel Heymann Ephraim, later known as Victor Ebers. 14. They were Mendel Oppenheim, husband of Daniel Itzig's daughter Henriette, and Moses Friedlander, son of Itzig's son-in-law David Friedlander. 15. The daughters of Moses Isaac-Fliess (Rebecca and Blumchen), who converted in 1780 to marry noblemen (Lieutenant von Runkel and Kammerassessor von Bose), got into a lawsuit over their father's inheritance with their still Jewish brothers. Although the brothers won, at least one later converted, as did children of the others. Both Joseph Fliess (son of Moses) and his nephew Isaac were physicians; both later converted to Christianity. Joseph had several children by his Christian mistress, Louise Luza, while still married to Daniel Itzig's daughter. After his wife's death he converted and married his mistress. His brother Beer, who remained Jewish, had at least two illegitimate children. Another son of Moses Isaac (Meyer Moses) had already been disinherited during his father's lifetime because his father disapproved of his style of living. He converted in 1787 (Warren I. Cohn, "The Moses Isaac Family Trust. Its History and Significance," Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute 18 (1973), 267-279; Rachel/Wallich, vol. 2, pp. 380-388). 16. Her letter to the elders of the Jewish community of January 19, 1813, asks them for a certificate of poverty so that her court expenses could be paid (CAHJP P 17-523). See also Jacobson, Judische Trauungen, p. 151, note to marriage 210, and Varnhagen, Denkwiirdigkeiten, vol. 1, p. 288. 17. Eberty, Jugenderinnerungen, pp. 107-109. 18. From the position of assistant elder (ikkur) to the more minor post of a low level treasurer (Scharrne Gova). 19. Ellen Littmann, "David Friedlanders Sendschreiben an Probst Teller und sein Echo," Zeitschrift fur die Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland, 6 (1935), 92-112. Other members of the family may have felt similarly. On August 11, 1799, Julius Eduard Hitzig became the first descendant of Daniel Itzig to convert to Christianity, only shortly after the death of his grandfather, who had died on May 21 of the same year. Jacob Jacobson, "Von Mendelssohn zu Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute 5 (1960), p. 254. 20. Ludwig Geiger, Berlin 1688-1840. Geschichte des Geistigen Lebens der preussischen Hauptstadt (Berlin: Verlag der Briider Paetel, 1895), vol. 2, pp. 243, 287-288; Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 251. 21. CAHJP P17-466, esp, pp. 8-9, 15^6; K Ge 2/18. 22. CAHJP P17-489. The elders issued a three-page printed open letter to all members of the community. Among other things they state: It is truly a difficult office to hold; difficult at all times, but even more difficult in the position in which we find ourselves at present. We carry heavy [financial] burdens and are very much limited in our occupations. The war, through the reduced property of many a head of household, through the almost totally disrupted business [Gewerbe] of our members, has made these burdens much more difficult. The community is in arrears with its public taxes; poverty has increased; food is becoming more expensive. The charity foundations will probably not have sufficient income from their old sources.

The document continues by lamenting the decline in religion, morality, and feelings of solidarity in the Jewish community, the increased anti-Jewish agitation in print, and the conversions of wealthy community members. They proceeded to demand a statement in writing giving them authority to do all that was necessary for the sake of the community. 23. Rachel/Wallich, vol. 3, pp. 296-297; CAHJP P 17-466, p. 41. 24. The four were Zacharias Friebe, Victor Ebers, Mendel Oppenheim, and Moses

Notes to pages 94-97

231

Friedlander, only one of them (Ebers) a descendant of one of the coin millionaires in the male line. 25. This study gives considerable weight to the struggle for Emancipation (along with the death of Mendelssohn) as a factor in bringing about the radicalization of the Berlin Haskala. A recent study by Reuven Michael, "Hahaskala bitekufat Hamahepecha Hatzorfatit —Haketz le 'Haskalat Berlin'?" [The Haskala in the era of the French Revolution—the end of the 'Berlin Haskala'?] Zion 56, no, 3 (1991), 275-298, tries to argue that the radicalization was brought about by the influence of the French Revolution. The article,, which is based mainly on Hebrew literary sources, especially reports in Hameassef, does not appear to me to give sufficient evidence for Michael's position. 26. The theory of a moderate Hebrew Enlightenment and a radical German one is put forth in an especially strong form in Isaac E. Barzilay, "National and Anti-national Trends in the Berlin Haskalah," Jewish Social Studies 21 (July 1959), 165-192 and Isaac EisensteinBarzilay, "The Treatment of the Jewish Religion in the Literature of the Berlin Haskalah," Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research 24 (1955), 39-68. Moshe Pelli, The Age of Enlightenment. Studies in Hebrew Literature of the Enlightenment in Germany (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1979) quotes Barzilay's arguments with approval (p. 26) The whole question of who was radical and who was moderate is often a matter of controversy. Although scholars generally agree that Wessely and Mendelssohn were more moderate than David Friedlander, they often differ widely in their evaluations of other figures. This is especially noticeable in treatments of Isaac Euchel. Barzilay, for instance, writes, "Euchel, except for a degree of caution, did not differ in substance from the more extreme Maskilim" ("Treatment of Jewish Religion," p. 40). Pelli, pp. 193-194 states, "While the vast majority of the students of Euchel's writings consider him an extremist from a religious standpoint,three scholars, representing two different periods [Isaac Samuel Reggio, Meir Letteris, and Bernard Weinryb], are of the opinion that Isaac Euchel is rather a moderate maskil." Pelli himself is of the opinion that "Euchel's Haskalah views are rather moderate" (p. 201). A similar view is expressed in Shmuel Feiner's article on Euchel in Zion (1987), p. 461, in which he describes Euchel as "much more moderate than them [Friedlander, Wolfsohn, and Bendavid]." On the other hand, in the same year and in the same journal, Meir Gilon refers to Euchel as "an extreme deist" (in his review of Yehuda Friedlander's Hebrew Satire in the Age of the German Enlightenment, p. 212). An example of the dichotomy between "maskilim" and "deists" can be found in Feiner's article, pp. 457—458. Pelli, pp. 24, 26-32 also argues that the Maskilim were only partly influenced by deism. In addition he makes distinctions between "constructive and destructive deism." 27. See David Sorkin, The Transformation of German Jewry, 1780-1840 (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), pp. 67-78, for a discussion of the implications of the difference between Mendelssohn's concentration on "natural rights" and David Friedlander's "argument from utility." Friedlander was far from the only writer looking to the state as an agent for improving the Jews. Among others who held such views was Isaac Euchel, as can be seen, for instance, in the excerpt from his Reb Henoch quoted in note 11 of Chapter 7, especially in Act 1 Scene 7. 28. "Nachal Habesor" (introductory announcement) Hameassef 1 (1783), p. 6. In 1788 Wessely's "Chikur Hadin" was published in Hameassef4 (Tevet and Adar Rishon 5488). At the end of his article defending traditional ideas on the afterlife, Wessely explicitly criticizes the editors of the journal for not having heeded the advice he had given five years earlier (p. 165). See below, note 50.

232

Notes to pages 97-99

29. The volumes edited by Wolfsohn included Esther, Ruth, and Lamentations issued in 1789, Job (1790), and Kings (1800). Joel (Brill) Loewe worked on Jonah, which appeared in 1788. David Friedlander's Ecclesiastes appeared in German characters in 1788. Zinberg and the Jewish Encyclopedia of 1903 give slightly conflicting dates of publication. 30. See Israel Zinberg, A History of Jewish Literature, ed. and trans. Bernard Martion (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, and New York: KTAV, 1976), vol. 8, p. 186. According to the Christian Hebraist, Franz Delitsch, Satanov combined modern and traditional traits in his personal appearance. He wore a beard and modern German clothes under an East European Jewish kaftan (ibid.) On Saul Berlin's even more radical pseudoepigraphic work Besamim Rosh, see p. 99. 31. Pelli, pp. 207-211. Among the persons who wrote on the subject besides Euchel and Herz were Joel (Bril) Loewe. 32. According to Mahler, History of Modern Jewry, Hameassef replaced the rubric "commentaries on Holy scripture" with a section on natural science after the publication moved to Berlin in 1787. This is somewhat of an overstatement. Although sections on natural science were common in the later years of the journal, there continued to be discussions of difficult passages or expressions in the Scriptures from time to time (for instance, the discussion of a word in the Kaddish in the Cheshvan 5548 issue). 33. Most scholars think the anonymous rabbi is modeled on Raphael Cohen of Hamburg or Ezechiel Landau of Prague, both old enemies of the Maskilim. Maimonides denies knowing the famous Polish rabbis who endorsed "Ploni's" book. Nor does he understand their flowery endorsement written in rabbinic style. The rabbi interprets Maimonides' work only in narrow pilpulistic ways and understands neither the philosophy nor the grammar of the work he is commenting upon. Maimonides thinks about the rabbi: "Now the mask is removed from him and he appears naked before me just as he left his mother's womb. But what should I do? Leave him alone and go on my way? But then will he not remain with his false opinions?" (Hameassef 1 [1794] p. 66). Maimonides rejects those Talmudic opinions offered by "Ploni" as supernatural explanations of natural phenomena. A large section of the dialogue is a commentary on the Talmudic statement "a scholar [Taimid Chacham] without intelligence is worse than an animal's carcass [nevela]"— the same statement that aroused so much rabbinic opposition when used in Wessely's Divre Shalom Ve'emet. Maimonides also seems to state that certain commandments were rational only in the time that they were given and that "except for their time and place, perhaps they would not have been commanded at all" (p. 146). Maimonides reacts to a passage from the Zohar quoted by Ploni by calling it "speaking an abomination about God" (p. 149). In a German addendum Wolfssohn speaks mockingly of a community in which the superstitious buried a carp in the belief that it was the reincarnation of a righteous man. 34. Berlin's Ktav Yosher was published around 1794 but was originally written around 1784. The work mocks such customs as Kaparot (the slaughter of a rooster on the eve of Yom Kippur), making noise during reading of the Purim Megillah, shaking the palm branch on Sukkot, etc.) (see Pelli, p. 177, note 18). The work satirically "defends" Wessely's tract in favor of modern education by claiming that it was really a Kabbalistic work that had not been properly interpreted as the deeply mystical work it was. In so doing Berlin pokes fun at the farfetched way traditional rabbis had interpreted earlier sources. Berlin's Mizpeh Yoqte'el was published in 1789 and is another attack on Rabbi Cohen (Pelli, p. 174, note 7). Berlin also seemingly wrote some articles in Hameassef in a similar vein ("Vikuach Shnei Re'im"—1789 and a review of Cohen's "Marpe Lashon"). 35. See p. 96 and footnote 26 of this chapter for a more detailed discussion of the differences between Hebrew and German Jewish Enlightenment writers.

Notes to pages 99-100

233

36. One can find many traces of Mendelssohnian ideas even in Friedlander's most extreme work, his letter to Teller. His tombstone (as translated by Michael Meyer) reads according to his own wish: Burial place Of David Friedlander, born in Konigsberg, December 6, 5511 The son of Joachim Moses Friedlander True disciple and friend of the philosopher Moses Mendelssohn Died December 25, 5595 (Meyer, Origins, p. 84)

37. In 1786 Friedlander had translated the traditional prayerbook into High German. Although his introduction to the prayerbook was written in the spirit of the Enlightenment, he made no changes in the text of the prayers. In 1786 Friedlander also published a commentary on Psalm 110, which he had heard from Mendelssohn (see Meyer, Origins, p. 59). 38. Following the date in Meisl's publication of the original Hebrew-character letters in Historishe Shriftn 2, 390-412. In Geiger's edition the letter is dated 1792. 39. Geiger, "Brief Mendelssohn*" 258-268. 40. See Chapter 6, p. 63 and footnote 25. 41. Pelli, Age of Enlightenment, p. 196, note 14, quotes Leiser Landhuth, Toldot Anshei Hashem, vol. 1 (Berlin: 1884), p. 113, who claimed that Rabbi Hirschel Levin stated that formerly pigs ate acorns (Eicheln), now Euchel (probably pronounced Eichel) eats pigs. Pelli feels that the story is both unauthenticated and unreliable. Its authentication is, of course, impossible; but it would seem from other evidence about Berlin Jewry at the end of the eighteenth century, that the story is far from impossible. Euchel's membership in the Wednesday society, where rneals were served, would tend to indicate that, unlike Mendelssohn, Euchel did not observe the dietary laws (Gilon, p. 216). 42. Jacobson collection I 91. The meetings of March 16 and March 23, 1792, were held on Friday at 5 P.M., which would very likely have led them to continue well past the beginning of the Sabbath at that time of year. The second of the meetings was continued the following day, Saturday, March 24, at 3 P.M. Minutes were taken at these meetings as at all others. At the March 23 meeting it was voted twelve to six that the "Revers" [minutes?] should be signed. It is not clear if this refers to the issue of writing on the Sabbath or simply about how records are to be made official. At the March 23 meeting one of the club officers (Bernhard D. Wessely) was absent because he was conducting a concert. 43. Wolff Davidson, Uber die biirgerliche Verbesserung der Juden (Berlin: Ernst Felisch, 1798). 44. Even if only those are included in the discussion who paid some communal wealth tax (and thus are not excluded from the meat tax only because they were too poor to pay taxes), only 177 paid the kosher meat tax as against at least 165 who did not. 45. It is difficult to make precise inferences from the tax list to actual religious practice. Not all those who paid the kosher meat tax necessarily bought kosher meat all the time. On the other hand, appearance on the list without any kosher meat tax amount could indicate many things other than not keeping kosher, including being too poor to buy meat and eating together with parents or other relatives. The tax list is to be found in CAHJP P 17-466 pp. 47-66. The dating is based on the death dates of persons on the list who have no listing next to their names. The total list includes 572 names. Of these 180 have amounts in the space next to the name and 31 others (almost none of them regular taxpayers) have numbers behind their names. Two hundred sixty-one names have dashes after their names indicating no kosher meat tax payments.

234

Notes to pages 101-102

46. Feiner, "Itzhak Euchel," p. 466, quoting Shalom Hacohen, Ktav Yosher (Vienna: 1820). A longer excerpt of the letter is given in Zinberg, vol. 8, pp. 138-139. Hameassef was in fact revived in the years 1808 to 1811 but with a very different circle of contributors, many of them not in Berlin, and with a more moderate stance than that of the 1790s. 47. Jacob Katz, Out of the Ghetto, pp. 154, 248; Shmuel Feiner, "Itzhak Euchel," pp. 463-464, 466; Zinberg, vol. 8, pp. 212-213. Nachman also known as Nachman ben Simcha Br"sh br"A was the son of Samuel Aron Simon (1741-1814), who was a moderately well-off taxpayer (Jacobson, Judische Trauungen, p. 120). En Mishpat praises Moses Mendelssohn but compares Mendelssohn's followers' violations of Torah after his death to the followers of the first Moses who became worshippers of the Golden Calf. Zinberg mentions other former Maskilim who attacked the growing radicalism of Hameassef in the 1790s including Mendel Lefin and Baruch Jeiteles (Zinberg, vol. 8, p. 103). Isaac Satanow also got involved in disputes with Hameassef during its last years. Some of the Meassfim suspected that he was the author of En Mishpat (Nehama Rezler-Berson, "Isaac Satanow, An Epitome of an Era," Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute 25 (1980), p. 83. This is also evidenced from a passage in Hameassef 1 (1797) that attacks the book and states that the Biblical verse "when Isaac waxed old his eyes could no longer see" was applicable (since old Isaac Satanov rather than young Nachman Berlin was the real author). 48. See Chapter 5, note 40. 49. Ludwig Geiger's Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, pp. 115, speaks of "Halbbildung" (semieducation) as having unhappy moral and intellectual consequences. He quotes David Friedlander who stated: "Es haben sich Untugenden unter uns verbreitet die unsere Vater nicht kannten, und die fiir jeden Preis zu theuer erkauft werden. Irreligion, Uppigkeit und Weichlichkeit, dieses Unkraut, das aus dem Missbrauch der Aufklarung und Kultur hervorkeimt, hat leider auch unter uns Wurzel gefasst" (Geiger, p. 116). I. M. Jost uses the term "halbgebildet" to refer to the extreme attitudes of Berlin Jews in this period of which he does not approve (Geschichte der Israeliten seit der Zeit der Maccabaer bis aufunsre Tage [Berlin: Schlesingsche Buchhandlung, 1828], vol. 9, pp. 103, 107-110). The distinction between "true" and "false" Enlightenment is also discussed by Feiner, pp. 459-^60. 50. Zinberg, vol. 8, pp. 93-94, states "Chikkur Hadin" was published by Hameassef to assuage the orthodox who were disturbed by the growing radicalism of the journal. In the introduction to volume 4 of Hameassef (dated Cheshvan 15 5548 [October 1787]), the editors specifically state that the article was published because Herz (Cerf) Beer of Strassburg had sent a letter objecting to an earlier article rejecting traditional views of Hell. 51. Although Friedlander does not seem to have been influenced much by the "Kantian" revolution in rationalist philosophy, many of his fellow Berlin Jewish intellectuals were leaders of the Kantian school. Most noteworthy as followers of Kant were Salomon Maimon, Lazarus Bendavid, and Isaac Euchel. 52. Nicolai was severely ridiculed in the satirical "Xenien" published by Schiller and Goethe in the Musenalmanach of 1797. (See the essay by Wilhelm Schmidt-Biggemann, "Nicolai oder vom Altern der Wahrheit," in Bernhard Fabian, Friederich Nicolai 17331811. Essays zum 250. Geburtstag [Berlin: Nicolaische Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1983].) The nasty mockery of Nicolai as the "Proktophantasmist" in Goethe's Faust, Part 1, lines 41444147, 4158^163, and 4165^-170 dates to about the same time. A few years later there appeared Fichte's very negative Nicolais Leben und sonderbare Meinungen (Tubingen: 1801) with a foreword by August Wilhelm Schlegel.

Notes to pages 104-107

235

Chapter 9 1. Petra Wilhelmy, Der Berliner Salon im 19. Jahrhundert (1780-1914) (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1989), pp. 19-20; Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 98. For a use of the term Hausfreund in a somewhat different context, see Chapter 10, note 11. 2. Wilhelmy, Salon, pp. 25-26. Not all would agree with these definitions. Deborah Hertz, for instance, includes in her list several salons led by men. 3. Davidsohn, Burgerliche Verbesserung, p. 86. Rachel/Wallich, vol. 2, p. 335, quote the remarks of the non-Jewish Dr. Heim from the same year: "I ate with court agent [Ephraim Veitel] Ephraim and a group made up only of Jews [lauter Juden] and I enjoyed the food." 4. In Euchel's Reb Henoch, act 2, scenes 1 and 8, the young Jewish Hedwig dines with Gentiles in a restaurant. When her father finds out he faints (act 3, scene 11; act 4, scene 4). In her memoirs (Fiirst, Henriette Herz, pp. 87-88) Henriette Herz speaks of traveling to Leipzig together with Rahel Varnhagen and her parents around 1786 where they ate at the best hotels and at the famous Auerbach cellar (mentioned in Goethe's Faust). 5. See, for instance, Fiirst, Henriette Herz, pp. 100-103, in which Herz talks both about the Lesegesellschaft at the home of Dorothea Veil attended mainly by Jews as well as the mixed Lesegesellschaft founded in 1785 in which Herz and her husband as well as leading non-Jewish intellectuals participated. 6. See, for instance, Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 100. The quote from Henriette Herz appears in Hertz, p. 100, note 54. Schadow's description is cited by Wilhelmy, Salon, pp. 50-51. 7. Around 1800 Rahel and her brothers took the new family name Robert-Tornow. 8. Wilhelmy, Salon, p. 19. 9. Wilhelmy, Salon, pp. 97, 141-142, 719-722; Eberty, Jugenderinnerungen, pp. 252255, writes at length about Sara Levy. 10. Karl August Varnhagen von Ense, Denkwilrdigkeiten des eignen Lebens, ed. Konrad Feilchenfeldt (Frankfurt arn Main: Deutscher Klassiker Verlag, 1987), vol. 1, pp. 233235, 239-293; Wilhelmy, Salon, pp. 70-71, 623-625. 11. Wilhelmy, Salon, pp. 144-150, 605-609, 674-680. 12. Deborah Hertz lists the following individuals as "salon women" even though they were not hostesses of their own salons: Rebecca Ephraim (a daughter of Daniel Itzig), Julie Saaling (later the wife of Karl Heyse and mother of the author Paul Heyse) and Marianne Saaling—both sisters of Regina Frohberg, Bliimchen Moses [Isaac-Fliess] (later von Bose) and her sister Rebecca (later von'Runkel); Marianne Devidel (later Schadow); Esther Bernard nee Gad; Rosel Frankel nee Spanier; Hitzel Ziilz [Bernhard] (later von Boye), the sister of Philippine Cohen; Fradchen Liebmann nee Marcuse; and Jente Stieglitz nee Ephraim. 13. So, for instance, Henriette Herz is listed among the guests of Philippine Cohen, Sara Grotthuss, Sara Levy, and Rahel Varnhagen. Rahel attended the salons of Amalie Beer, Philippine Cohen, Henriette Herz, and Sara Grotthuss. Sara Levy was a guest at Henriette Herz's gatherings (Wilhelmy, Salon, pp. 915, 926, 953). 14. Wilhelmy, Salon, pp. 626, 637, 733, 787, 816, 864. 15. Of the twenty salon women listed by Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 192-193, thirteen had fathers who had been assessed for at least 10 Taler taxes. This would put them in the top 5 percent of Berlin Jews. Another two women had fathers assessed between 5 and 10 Taler (still in the top 8 percent of Berlin Jewry). Of the remaining five, three came from outside Berlin (Esther Gad Bernard, Rosel Spanier Frankel, and Marianne Devidel Schadow) and the other two were the daughters of men exempt from taxes: Benjamin de

236

Notes to pages 107-110

Lemos, doctor of the Jewish community (father of Henriette Herz), and Moses Mendelssohn (father of Dorothea Veil). 16. Of the 20 salon women listed by Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 192-193, seven were divorced from their first husbands and six married Christians in their second marriages. At least fifteen eventually converted. (Rebecca Itzig Ephraim, listed by Hertz as converted, did not convert together with her husband, David Ephraim; on the other hand, Jente Ephraim Stieglitz, whose conversion is listed by Hertz as uncertain, probably did convert together with her husband.) Another distinctive characteristic of many of the salon hostesses was that their first marriages were quite early, on average at age 18, six years younger than the average Berlin Jewish woman (Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 196-197). 17. The lists of attendees at the salons of Henriette Herz and Rahel Varnhagen given by Wilhelmy (Salon, pp. 683-687, 868-873) include a total of 153 names. Out of these, 14 were women of Jewish origin and only 12 were men of Jewish background (Ludwig Borne, David Friedlander, David Ferdinand Koreff, Philipp Veil, four members of the Beer family, Eduard Gans, Heinrich Heine, Julius Eduard Hitzig, Ludwig Robert). Several of these men seem to have attended Varnhagen's second salon. Only the Beers and David Friedlander remained Jewish. Deborah Hertz counts 12 Jewish women among 31 in "female salon society" and 8 Jewish men among 69 in "male salon society" (Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 114). 18. See Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 114, Figure 8. 19. Varnhagen, vol. 1, p. 256, states his agreement with Friedrich Schlegel's statement in the Athendum that "Fast alle Ehen sind nur Konkubinate, Ehen an der linken Hand." 20. Rahel Varnhagen was engaged to Karl von Finckenstein before she met Karl August Varnhagen von Ense, but Finckenstein eventually broke off the engagement (Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 131-135, 183, 184). For a short time she was also engaged to Don Raphael d'Urquijo, a Spanish diplomat (Wilhelmy, Salon, pp. 75, 809, 873). 21. Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 92; Wilhelmy, Salon, p. 53. Another seemingly platonic relationship was that between Henriette Herz and Friedrich Schleiermacher. 22. Heinrich Graetz, History of the Jews, (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1895), vol. 5, pp. 422—425. In speaking of Herz's relationship with Schleiermacher, Graetz writes: "Their conspicuous intimacy was mocked at by acquaintances, even more than by strangers. Both parties denied somewhat too anxiously the criminality of their intimate intercourse. Whether true of not, it was disgrace enough that evil tongues should even suspect the honor of a Jewish matron of good family." 23. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 254-258. 24. See, for instance, K.W.F. Grattenauer, Erklarung an das Publikum iiber meine Schrift: Wider die Juden (Berlin: Johann Wilhelm Schmidt, 1803), pp. 12-13, 21 ["should a turkey-snouted, black haired, dirty, short, fat Jew dare to take her (the muse of humanity) to a concert, or to recite to her in the most abhorrent dialect various treatises which he wrote about things of which he understands nothing?"] and Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 259-264. See also Chapter 7, p. 83. 25. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 258-259. Wilhelmy, Salon, p. 97, remarks that Achim von Arnim and Bettina Brentano's engagement in 1810 had taken place in Sara Levy's garden. Wilhelmy's description of the fight between Achim von Arnim and Sara Levy's nephew Moritz Itzig plays down the anti-Semitic nature of the incident (Salon, pp. 498-499, note 231). 26. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 271-275, Wilhelmy, Salon, p. 106. Wilhelmy claims that members of the Tischgesellschaft continued to attend Jewish salons even after the founding of their anti-Jewish club.

Notes to pages 110-112

237

27. Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 270. See also Wilhelmy, Salon, p. 133, which quotes Rahel Varnhagen as saying about the period before 1806: "Die ganze Konstellation von Schonheit, Grazie, Koketterie, Neigung, Liebschaft, Witz, Eleganz, Kordialitat, Drang Ideen zu entwickeln, redlichem Ernst, unbefangenem Aufsuchen und Zusammentreffen, launigem Scherz, ist zerstiebt." 28. Deborah Hertz quotes an 1810 letter by Wilhelm von Humboldt that explicitly connects these two seemingly contradictory phenomena. Humboldt wrote that he "was working with all my might to give Jews civil rights so that it would no longer be necessary, out of generosity, to go to Jewish houses" (Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 280).

Chapter 10 1. For a recent discussion of the Veit-Schlegel liaison see Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 106-107. For discussions of the baptism of Mendelssohn's children see, for example, Meyer, Origins, chapter 4, (pp. 85-101). Of the six children of Mendelssohn who survived him, only Joseph Mendelssohn (b. 1770) and Recha Meyer (b. 1767) died as Jews. The other four children were Dorothea Veil (b. 1764, baptized 1802), Henriette (b. 1775, baptized 1812), Abraham (b. 1776, baptized 1822), and Nathan (b. 1782, baptized 1809). There are many reasons for invalidating the use of Mendelssohn's family as indicative of the influence of Enlightenment ideas as a contributor to conversion. The three youngest children, all of whom converted, were still quite young when their father died, and he influenced their education far less than the older children's. Of the older three, only one converted, and her decision to leave her husband, Simon Veil, twelve years after her father's passing and later marry her Christian lover, Friedrich Schlegel, was certainly not the result of her early upbringing. 2. These figures come from an analysis of the marriages listed in Jacob Jacobson's Jiidische Trauungen in Berlin 1759-1813. Only those couples who actually lived in Berlin for some time after their marriages are included. Since Jacobson gives exact figures for marriage dates for each couple but does not always give divorce dates, the figures based on date of marriage are more accurate than those for date of divorce. Of those women who are listed by Jacobson as marrying in Berlin and who later lived in Berlin the following numbers eventually divorced: Number of Marriages

Number who Divorced

Percenta^.',e Divorcin,*

1760-69

194

4

2.1

1770-79

109

6

5.5

1780-89 1790-94

120

6

Date Married

1795-99

61

)

1800-04 1805-09 1810-12

1 139 78 83

}

|l40 57 59

3> i

5.0

4.9

"1 5.7 6.4 I

14.4 •> 12.1 8.8 I 1.7

Of the 125 marriages listed by Jacobson for the years 1800 to 1804, 83 involved women who married for the first time (and are thus listed in my database under the years 1800 to

238

Notes to page 112

1804), 7 were remarrying (and were thus listed for earlier periods), 26 moved away from Berlin after marrying and did not return. For 9 marriages there is no information at all. The exact numbers of divorces by decade divorced is much more difficult to specify, but the following seem the most accurate estimates based on those married between 1759 and 1812: 1760-69

2 divorces

1770-79

2

1780-89 1790-99 1800-09

7 5 14

1810-19 1820-22

8 3

In the list of all Jews in Berlin in 1812, there were about twenty persons listed as separated. Several of them are not included in Jacobson's lists, presumably because they were not married in Berlin. A list of all Jews divorced in Berlin between 1813 and 1847 (Jacobson collection, LBINY I -61) does not seem to indicate a very high divorce rate. The numbers listed are: 1813-17 1818-22 1823-27 1828-32 1833-37 1838-42 1843^17

5 divorces 12 7 9 7 12 9

Considering the growth of Jewish population in Berlin, especially in the 1830s and 1840s, these figures would seem to indicate a decline in the divorce rate after 1823. 3. Unfortunately, I was unable to find directly comparable figures for divorce rates in Berlin or Germany in general for the period studied here. The earliest information on Berlin given in William H. Hubbard, Familiengeschichte; Materialen zur deutschen Familie seit dem Ende des 18. Jahrhunderts (Miinchen:Verlag C.H. Beck, 1983), p. 87, is for the period 1875 to 1880, when it was approximately 4.5 percent. In those years the Berlin rate was almost 50 percent above that of Saxony. The Saxon rate from 1836 to 1840 had been 2.6 percent, slightly lower than the 1875 to 1880 rates. A study of marriages in Leiden, Holland, seems to indicate a high rate of separations, reaching a peak of 14 percent in the period from 1791 to 1794, but a much lower rate of divorces (Donald Haks, Huwelijk en gezin in Holland in de 17de en 18de eeuw (Utrecht: Hes Uitgevers, 1985), pp. 188, 202. 4. Jewish tax lists are complete only for the years up to 1789. In order to get information on the wealth of those who divorced after 1789 we have to look at the information on the taxes of their parents. Such information is available for about half of the divorced persons, including many married after 1790. Those divorced persons who themselves appear on the pre-1789 tax lists fall into the following categories:

Notes to pages 112-113 Highest Tax

239 Number

Over 4 Taler

7

2-4 Taler

4

1-2 Taler

3

Under 1 Taler (but not exempt)

1

Of those divorced persons whose father's pre-1789 tax is known, the following is the distribution: Highest Tax

Married 1760-89

Over 4 Taler

Married 1790-99

Married 1800-12

11

1

6

2-4 Taler

6

3

4

1-2 Taler

1

2

8

Under 1 Taler (but not exempt)

5

3

3

The tax amounts of about one-third of the fathers are not known, mainly because they did not live in Berlin. 5. The divorce rate among couples marrying between 1759 and 1789 was 8.0 percent for those paying over 4 Taler in taxes, 4.4 percent for those paying 2 to 4 Taler, and under 1 percent for those paying some taxes but less than 1 Taler. 6. The four sets of siblings who divorced their spouses were David and Michael Frankel; Merle Meyer and Frommet Alexander (daughters of Liepmann Alexander); Cacilie Wulff and Rebecca Ephraim (daughters of Daniel Itzig); and Benjamin and Jacob Wulff. Except for the Frankel brothers, all were the children of parents paying over 4 Taler in tax. 7. Among the marriages and divorces listed by Jacobson there are three cases of women converting without their husbands and receiving divorces—Sara Meyer, later von Grotthuss (married 1778), Brendel Mendelssohn, later Dorothea von Schlegel (married 1783), and Rebecca Friedlander, later Regina Frohberg (married 1801). There are also four cases of men converting alone—Levi Moses Levi (married 1765), Loeb Bresselau, later Michael von Bressendorf (married 1772), David Ephraim (married 1784); and Julius Moses (married 1792). On marriages to nobles see Chapter 11, p. 131. 8. The cases in which prenuptial conceptions were clear are the marriages of: Martin Heinrich Mendheim and Sarchen Nauen on June 4, 1795—daughter Rebecca born five months and eight days later (November 12, 1795) Dr. Abraham Herz Bing and Rechel Bendix on November 26, 1801—daughter Hanna born 5 months and 22 days later (April 18, 1802) Samuel (Siegfried) Lazarus Neudorff and Fradche Ezechiel on June 5, 1803 —daughter Cheile born four months and 21 days later (October 26, 1803) Veitel Joseph Ephraim (Eberty) and Jeanette Friedlander on January 13, 1805—daughter Edel (Ida) born two months and one day later (March 15, 1805). (The date 1806 given in the 1812 list of Berlin Jews agrees neither with the birth record in the Alte Familienregister nor with the baptismal records both of which list March 15, 1805, as her birthdate) Casper (Aron) Arnstein and Rechel Fiirst on August 28, 1806—son Adolph born 6 months and 7 days later (March 4, 1807) Moses Levin (Moritz) Friedberg and Gitel Itzig on September 21, 1806—son Mendel (Magnus) born 2 months and 23 days later (December 14, 1806) The case of David Wulff who married Mirel (Wilhelmine) Nathan on November 6, 1803, is ambiguous. Though the Alte Familienregister lists their oldest son as Levin born April 14, 1804, the 1812 list mentions him (now called Louis) as born April 15, 1805. It also lists an older daughter Roese born August 8, 1804, that is just nine months after their marriage. There are only 8 months

240

Notes to pages 113-114 and 7 days between the birthdates of Roese and Louis, which seems to be close to physically impossible. Another uncertain case is that of David Samuel Strauss and Rahel Philippi who married on January 31, 1805. Their oldest child is listed in the Alte Familienregister as Bela born September 2, 1805, seven months and 2 days after their marriage. This child could have been premature or conceived before marriage. Another complication is that the 1812 list but not the Alte Familienregister lists another child, Rike, born January 26, 1804, that is a year before their marriage.

Some of these couples, notably the Mendheims, Bings, and Ebertys, were from quite wealthy families. Rechel Fiirst Arnstein's father was also rather wealthy. Later baptisms of these couples include (among parents) Martin and Sara Mendheim, and Jeanette Friedla'nder, as well as children of the Bings and Neudorffs. 9. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 218-219. 10. In Isaac Euchel's Reb Henoch, the pseudo-Enlightened married daughter of the old-fashioned Henoch sneaks out of her home on a Friday night for a rendezvous with her lover, a Prussian army officer. Aron Halle Wolfsohn's Leichtsinn und Frommelei deals with a similar theme. Here the pseudo-Enlightened daughter writes to her noble admirer to save her from marriage to the villainous Polish Talmud tutor Josephche. Instead he sells her to a house of prostitution. Wolfsohn's rather heavyhanded moral is that both the hypocritical fanaticism of the orthodox and the pseudo-Enlightened rejection of all values lead to disaster. Both the hypocritical Josephche, who frequents the brothel, and the Christian noble admirer are to be avoided, and only the truly Enlightened represented by the play's hero can lead the younger generation to a properly moral and modern future. Both Euchel's and Wolfsohn's plays are written in the Hebrew alphabet but in the spoken vernacular. In each play the old-fashioned characters speak Yiddish dialect, while the more modern ones speak High German. Both plays date to the early 1790s. Euchel's play seems to have been written in 1793 or shortly thereafter, while the first printing of Wolfsohn's play was in 1796 (see Zinberg, History of Jewish Literature, vol. 8, pp. 140-150). 11. "Das einzige, was ihnen einiges Ansehen geben kann, und wodurch wenigstens ein toleranter Hausfreund sich bewegen lasst, die Frau oder die Tochter eines Juden zu verfiihren, und seinen Wein mil auszutrinken, [ist] der Reichtum" (Davidson, Burgerliche Verbesserung), p. 84. It is worth noting that the word Hausfreund is one of the terms often used in the period for a habitue of a salon. 12. The overall illegitimacy statistics for Berlin come from Hubbard, Familiengeschichte, Table 3.28, p. 109. Schulz, Berlin. Sozialgeschichte, pp. 265-268, gives somewhat lower figures for the years 1770-1800 (8.4 percent for the baptisms she studied, and about 10 percent for Berlin in general). She claims much higher rates, however, for intellectuals and officials (10 to 17 percent), and nobility (14.3 percent), but not among the "Handels- und Manufakturbourgeoisie" (7.3 percent). For Jewish illegitimacy rates see this chapter, Table 5 and note 27. 13. The so-called Judenkartei is a card index, made under Nazi auspices, of Protestant baptisms of persons of Jewish origin in Berlin. Now deposited in the Evangelisches Zentralarchiv in Berlin, it covers virtually all Protestant churches in Berlin with the exception of the military churches and the French church. The Judenkartei uses Nazi racial criteria to determine who should be included. It therefore includes a number of persons who had never been members of the Jewish community in the first place (for instance, children of Jewish fathers and Christian mothers baptized at birth, or the children of persons converted to Christianity long before the baptized infant was born). 14. On the relative numbers of Jewish men and Jewish women among parents of illegitimate children see Chapter 14, pp. 164-165. 15. Of 312 children born out of wedlock to mixed couples between 1770 and 1830,

Notes to pages 114-115

241

111 were born to couples who had more than one out-of-wedlock child. Of the 237 couples involved, 36 had more than one child out of wedlock. 16. Of 125 children born to mixed couples out of wedlock between 1770 and 1799, only some 15 were later legitimized by the marriage of their parents (12 percent). Of the 238 born out of wedlock between 1800 and 1829, at least 55 were later legitimized (23.1 percent). The children born out of wedlock to mixed couples between 1810 and 1819 were especially likely to be legitimized (26 of 66, or 39.4 percent). The parents of illegitimate children known to have converted were the following. (All are listed with their dates of conversion. Those known to have married the parent of their children are marked with an asterisk): 1783—Nucha (Renata) Simonin*; 1789—Geist Riess (Johann G. W. Berger); 1790— Christiane Jacobin [?]; 1793—Christiane Wilhelmine Leberecht; 1795—Jacob Siegismund Sussmann*; 1796—Heymann Riess (Eduard W. Heymann); 1797—Joachim M. Simonsohn; 1798—Friedericke Leberecht; 1799—Christiane Dankengott Ernstin (father of child was Jewish); 1799—Johanna Anspachin (Grantzow)*; 1803—Johann Zedort Michaelis*; 1803— Aron Bloch*; 1804—Joseph Fliess*; 1804—Henriette Langen*; 1805—Carl A. W. Lowenthal*; 1805—Karoline Levi; 1806—Mathilde Wilhelmine Dankengott Wolf; 1808—Ludwig Arendt*; 1809—Isaak Nathan Liman*; 1811—Friedrich Wilhelm Vaudel and E. T. Davie (converted and married each other); 1811—Johanna Louisa Josepha*; 1812—Mirjam Gabriel (Charlotte F. W. Christian!)*; 1812—Emilie Nauendorf (married 1830); 1812—August B. W. Brandes*; 1814—(Christiane) Henriette Liepmann*; 1816—Gerhard Friedrich Eschwe*; 1816—Alexander Wallber; 1816—Johanne Heimann*; 1818—Henriette Jeremias*; 1819—Johanne Samuel; 1821—Benjamin Fliess; 1822—Wilhelm Frankel (Franke)*; 1824—Ludwig Hirschberg*; 1825—Rose Moses (Henriette Friederike Bennezet)*; 1825— August E. J. Levi*; 1827—Marie B. Schulz*; 1828—Ernestine L. Sussmund* (husband also converted); 1829—Henriette A. F. Meier*; 1830—Samuel Moserf?]* In several cases, Jews who later married had out-of-wedlock children after their conversion but none before. These cases include Ludwig Eppenstein, baptized 1801, married 1822; Johann A. L. Furstenthal, baptized 1822, married 1824; Johann Heinrich Julius Simoni, baptized 1809, married 1813; Caroline Heymann, baptized 1792, out-of-wedlock child born later that year; Charlotta Bernauin, baptized 1788, children born later. The dates of legitimization of the children of Therese Salome and Friedrich Wilhelm Hoffmeister (children born 1803 and 1809) and of the children of Charlotte Henriette Schmidt (children born 1793, 1794) are unknown. 17. Among the members of the Gesellschaft der Freunde who figure as fathers of children out of wedlock are Carl Adolph Ernst Neo, Enoch Manche, Ludwig Arendt, Benjamin Fliess, and (perhaps) Leffmann David. 18. One example of these fairly rare liaisons was that between the banker Isaac Liman and the noblewoman Friederike Amalie Theresa von Winterfeld, who had a daughter in April 1802. Liman converted to Christianity and married von Winterfeld (the widow of a Herr Detroit) in 1809. 19. For statistics on the social background of the Christian fathers of illegitimate children born to mixed couples, see Chapter 11, note 40, Table C). All of the out-of-wedlock children with Christian soldiers as fathers were born before 1795. 20. The following are some among the few descriptions of the social backgrounds of Jewish mothers of out-of-wedlock children being baptized: Handelsmannstochter aus Strelitz—1784 Daughter of a Schutzjude in Dessau—1790 Daughter of a Schutzjude in Berlin—1796 Magd bei Dr. Bloch (two out-of-wedlock children)—1797, 1799

242

Notes to pages 115-116

21. This was the case of Esther Bohm nee Krautheim who married Joseph Bb'hm in January 1804. Her husband was imprisoned for several years. In September 1807, she had an out-of-wedlock child with the Theaterlieferant Joseph Oppenheim. After her divorce from Bb'hm in 1812 she married the restauranteur Adolph Philipp Wallerstein and supplied kosher food for the Jewish association Magine Re'im (Jacobson, Judische Trauungen, p. 460). 22. The list of Jews in Berlin in 1812 specifies the ages of both mother and illegitimate child in 17 cases. Of these the youngest mother was 18 when her child was born and the oldest was 40. Eleven of the mothers were between 20 and 27, with the median age at 24 (only slightly younger than the average first legitimate birth among Berlin Jews). It is more difficult to get ages of parents from the baptismal records, since parents' ages are generally available only if they later converted (and not always then). Of ten men whose ages were known, the youngest fathered an illegitimate child when he was 21; the oldest was 47. Carl Franke, who fathered eleven children out of wedlock, was 23 years old when the first was born and 43 when the last one was born. 23. The baptismal record of Mariane Flies, daughter of Benjamin Flies (listed as judischer Kaufmann), and Scharlotte Friderike Wilhelmine Plato (daughter of a merchant in Frankfurt) states "Vater mil d. Mutter abgefunden bis zum 16. Jahr" (Sophienkirche, July 25, 1799). Joseph Riess and Carolina Rosenblum are listed at the following different addresses upon birth of their children: 1787—Miinzstrasse, 1792, 1794—Schonhauserstrasse, 1799— neben den Ziegenhof; their son born in 1796 was listed with the address "Bankertshaus" (bastard house). The baptism of children of mixed parentage at the orphanage (Waisenhaus Rummelsberg) seems to have been a bit more common when the mother was Jewish than when the father was Jewish. Some examples of such cases were the children of: Christian Mankert and Reichel Wulf (1793) Lieutenant von Theler and Zimche Mosis (1794) Gottlieb Bechert and Sprinze Liepman (1795) The journeyman tailor Gemeinert and Jitte Salomon (1796) Johann Hunzinger and Sprinze Aron (1797 and 1799).

24. Table 4 somewhat understates the suddenness and rapidity of the drop in illegitimate births. In 1804, 14 of the 32 baptisms of Jews in Berlin involved illegitimate children of mixed couples. In 1805 it was 16 of 33—the highest number of illegitimate children of Jewish background ever baptized in one year. In 1806 this tumbled suddenly to 6 of 20 and in 1807, 6 of 30. 25. See Chapter 9, pp. 109-110 and Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 251-285. 26. A Jewish communal report (CAHJP, P 17-522) states that in the year 1810-11 seven Jewish children were born out of wedlock. The same report seems to indicate that 39 children were born in the Jewish community altogether during this period, though the report is confusing since it also lists the number of Jewish children born in 1810 as 33. Whichever is the exact number of Jewish children born in the year, it would indicate an illegitimacy rate of about 20 percent. The 1812 list of all Jewish residents in Berlin reports only 21 illegitimate children under the age of 12 living with their mothers. This is only a very small percentage of the 721 children listed in the same age group overall. Even for the year with the largest number of children born out of wedlock according to the list (1809), there were only five such cases (between 7 percent and 8 percent of all Jewish children born in 1809). The low number of out-of-wedlock children in the 1812 population list is by no means proof that the Jewish illegitimacy rate was low. First of all, out-of-wedlock children were

Notes to pages 116-118

243

more likely to be stillborn or to die in childhood than were legitimate children with two parents to bring them up. Second, if the mother of the child married, the illegitimate child would probably have been legitimized and thus excluded from the statistics. Finally, it is quite likely that the Jewish communal authorities made life difficult for unwed mothers and perhaps forced some to emigrate. (On the other hand, unwed mothers might have come to relatively anonymous Berlin to have their babies, though it is hard to see how they could have gained residency rights.) 27. LBI, Jacobson Collection I 42-43. All these figures include only children brought up as Jews. All had Jewish mothers, and, in most cases, Jewish fathers were also listed for them. Illegitimate children of mixed couples not brought up as Jews are listed elsewhere (in the baptismal records and Judenkartei). 28. Among the maids listed in the 1812 list of Jews in Berlin who had out-of-wedlock children were Taube Aron—child Roeschen born 1811 Bette Abraham—child Mahle born 1809 Zipora Abraham—child Jacob Glogau Michaelis born 1800 Hanne Abraham—child Beer Fraenkel born 1812 Hanna Caspar—child Mariane born 1808 Hanne David—child Jette Levin bom 1801 Rebecca Gabriel—child Abraham Fiirstenberg born 1802 Jette Itzig—child Jette Philipp born 1808 Liebe Moses—child Rebecca born 1802

In almost all these cases the father of the child was probably Jewish. It is noteworthy that both the mothers and their illegitimate children had traditionally Jewish names. In the birth records of the Jewish community for 1812 to 1840 (Jacobson collection I 42-43) the clear majority of those bearing illegitimate children were listed as maids. This is especially true of those who had children out of wedlock in the earlier part of the period. In 1814, for instance, 9 of the 14 mothers of illegitimate children are listed in the birth records themselves as maids and a tenth is listed as a cook. Two of the remaining four are listed as maids in the list of all Berlin Jews in 1812. The following occupations for Jewish fathers of out-of-wedlock Jewish children are listed for the years between 1813 and 1820: cigarmaker (also listed as cigar worker and manufacturer [Fabrikant]), Krankenwarter (medical orderly), journeyman tailor (2), journeyman hat maker, dealer (Handelsmanri) (4), lacquerer (Lackierer), commercial employee (5) (Handlungsdiener), worker (Arbeitsmanri). Of more prestigious occupations only the following are found: merchant (Kaufmann) (2), lieutenant, banker. This would indicate 16 fathers with nonprestigious occupations and only 4 with prestigious occupations. The occupations of one father could not be determined. 29. For instance, the lacquerworker Michel Brinkmann and Sara Aron (2 children out of wedlock) and the cigarmaker Salomon Lesser Cohn and the servant Friedricke Kaufmann (3 children out of wedlock). 30. Some of the factors that help explain why liaisons between Jewish men and Christian women are rarely mentioned by contemporaries are discussed in Chapter 14, p. 165. The one mention in contemporaneous literature of liaisons by Jewish men is given by Karl August Varnhagen, who was a tutor in the home of the wealthy Cohen family. He describes Cohen as "devoting his attentions to one Mademoiselle Seiler, a singer," while Cohen's wife seems to "have been carrying on a flirtation" with Varnhagen (quoted by Hertz, Jewish High Society, p. 201).

244

Notes to pages 118-122

31. "Die ausserehelich beschwangerte Personen so wohl Dienstmagde welche bei hiesigen Hausvatern in Rendition stehen, als auch fremde Schwangere die anhero kommen, der Gemeinde und ihren wohltatigen Anstalten ungemein zu Last fallen. Es miissen also, in Ansicht der Ersten Massregeln genommen werden, wie ihre Unterhaltung nicht mehr der Gemeindekasse aufgeburdet werde, und in Ansicht der Zweiten solche Vorkehrung die ihren Auftritte in der Stadt verhindern" [original in Hebrew script] (From minute book of the Berlin community March 9, 1809 - P 17-451 at CAHJP). 32. "Solche Patrum obscurorum die aber als Kinder hiesiger Herkunft als solche betrachtet, und zum Genuss der Wohlthate der Gemeinde zugelassen, werden miissen" (Stern Collection P17-523, CAHJP). 33. Whereas the Jewish illegitimacy rate fell from 14 percent in 1813-15 to 6 percent in 1816-18 and was only about 2 percent in the years after 1819, the general rate in Berlin fell only from 18.3 percent in 1816-20 to 16.6 percent in 1821-25 and 15.3 percent in 1826-30. (See Hubbard, Familiengeschichte). 34. Whereas the rate of out-of-wedlock pregnancies and prenuptial conceptions in Bavaria during this period was frequently well over one-third of the total, the Jewish illegitimacy rate was closer to 3 percent. Despite the fact that the Matrikel laws forced Jews to delay their marriages, and despite the model of peasant illegitimacy, Bavarian Jews seem to have rarely resorted to extramarital conceptions and children out of wedlock (see Steven M. Lowenstein, "Voluntary and Involuntary Limitation of Fertility in Nineteenth Century Bavarian Jewry," in Paul Ritterband (ed.), Modern Jewish Fertility (Leiden: 1981).

Chapter 11 1. See, for instance, the discussion in Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 223-224. Graetz claimed that one-half of Berlin Jewry converted. 2. The letter to Teller seems not to have been typical of Friedlander's attitude toward baptism during the rest of his life. The very fact that Friedlander's son Benoni waited till after David Friedlander's death before he converted is one proof of this attitude. On Friedlander's 1811 memorandum to the Prussian government opposing conversions see Chapter 7, note 28. 3. See Abraham Menes, "The Conversion Movement in Prussia During the First Half of the 19th Century," YIVO Annual 6 (1951) 187-205. 4. In her dissertation The Literary Salon in Berlin 1780-1806: The Social History of an Intellectual Institution (University of Minnesota, 1979) and in Jewish High Society. 5. See Chapter 10, note 13. 6. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 232-233 and figures 15 and 16 on pp. 234-235. Hertz states that from 1770 to 1804 women were 60 percent of all converts but only 43 percent in the following half century. As will be seen, a study of adult converts shows that the changing gender imbalance was even greater than Hertz indicates. 7. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 228-235. 8. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 236-237. 9. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 230-232. 10. Of the 1,429 persons in the Judenkartei between 1770 and 1830 whose age at baptism can be determined, 584 were under one year old at baptism, 121 more were between one and fifteen, 114 between fifteen and twenty, 407 were in their twenties, 140 in their thirties, and only 63 were forty or above.

Notes to page 122

245

11. Number of Jews in Various Age Groups Living in Berlin in 1812 Who Converted Birthdate

Total Numbers

Later converted

% Converted

Before 1770

808

10

1.2

1770-74

265

9

3.4

1775-79

253

11

4.3

1780-84

362

13

3.6

1785-89

355

24

6.8

1790-94

353

42

11.9

1795-99

284

32

11.3

1800-04

281

41

14.6

1805-09

260

38

14.6

1810-12

160

21

13.1

Unknown

99

3

3.0

When we look at specific years, we find two birth years in which over 20 percent of those born later converted (1793 and 1804). 12. Looking at the Judenkartei gives the same impression as this look at the 1812 name list, namely, that those born nearest the turn of the century were the most likely to convert. Excluding babies baptized soon after birth, we find that those born in the years 1781 to 1810 made up the vast majority of those baptized between 1770 and 1830. The largest numbers are found in the years 1795 to 1806. In those twelve years, 309 persons were born who were baptized after infancy. This encompasses three-eighths of all noninfants baptized over a sixty-year period (309 of 831). 13.

h

Conversion in Families Marrying in Berlin 1759-1813 1813

Persons Later Converting Year Married

Persons Marrying

Persons Whose Children Converted

N

%

N

Persons With no Children Converted

%

N

%

1759-79

990

8

0.8

96

9.7

886

89.5

1780-89

225

11

4.9

39

17.3

175

77.8

1790-99

269

22

8.2

52

19.3

195

72.5

1800-13

391

38

9.7

68

17.4

285

72.9

1,875

79

4.2

255

13.6

1,541

82.2

All

14. A total of 629 persons listed in the Judenkartei were baptized after 1812 but born before 1812. They would thus have been listed as residents of Berlin in 1812 if they lived there. However, only about 150 of the 629 persons so listed are also to be found on the 1812 list. The others presumably migrated to Berlin at a later date. The reason that only some 150 persons are both in the Judenkartei for 1770 to 1830 and on the 1812 list is that at least 44 of the 250 baptized on the 1812 list were converted after 1830, several were converted to Catholicism and thus not in the Judenkartei, and some others were converted outside of Berlin. 15. The two main sources for baptized Jews beyond the Judenkartei are Jacobson's list of Jewish marriages in Berlin and the 1812 list of Jews in Berlin (Jacobson, Judische Trauungen and LBI Jacobson collection I 82).

246

Notes to pages 122-123

16. Among these persons are Henriette Herz baptized in Zossen, Julius Eduard Hitzig in Wittenberg, Joseph Fliess (son-in-law of Daniel Itzig) in Stolpe near Oranienburg, the Isaac-Fliess sisters, the Meyer sisters (later von Grotthuss and von Eybenberg) in Wensickendorf near Niederbarnim, and Dorothea Mendelssohn-Veil Schlegel in Jena. 17. Year

Number of Baptisms Listed in Judenkartei

Index of Increase (previous decade = 100)

1770-79

39

1780-89

77

197

1790-99

136

177

1800-09

240

176

1810-19

397

165

1820-29

615

155

18. Total Baptisms Listed in Judenkartei

Illegitimate Children

All Others

1770-74

19

3

16

1775-79

20

6

14

1780-84

39

15

24

1785-89

38

18

20

1790-94

52

29

23

1795-99

84

53

31

1800-04

96

52

44

Year

19. Year 1770-89 1790-99 1800-04 Total

Male Converts (over 2 years old)

Female Converts (over 2 years old)

15 20 28 63

46 27 35 108

20. Of 73 females above the age of two who were baptized in Berlin between 1770 and 1799, only two are known to have been born in Berlin, as compared to 8 of 35 males in the same age group and period. 21. Those baptized outside Berlin before 1806 included a number of people who were assessed over 10 Taler (or their fathers were), including Joseph Fliess and his two sisters, Blumchen and Rebecca, David Ephraim, and Sara and Marianne Wulff. 22. Among Jewish men who were ennobled after their baptisms before 1805 were Michael von Bressendorf, baptized 1796, and Joseph Adam von Arnstein (of Vienna, married in Berlin), baptized 1798. Isaac Nathan Liman, who converted in 1809, married a noblewoman. Jewish women who married noblemen after their conversions included Blumchen IsaacFliess, who converted in 1780 and married Kriegsrat von Bose, and her sister Rebecca who converted at about the same time and married Lieutenant von Runkel. The sisters Marianne and Sara Meyer converted in 1788, were forced by family pressure to return to Judaism, and then definitively converted around 1797. They became, respectively, Frau von Eybenberg (wife of Prince von Reuss) and Frau von Grotthuss. Hitzel Bernhard married Major von Boye, probably before 1800. Besides these five women who married

Notes to pages 123-125

247

noblemen, there was Brendel Mendelssohn whose second husband was eventually ennobled as Friedrich von Schlegel. 23. Most notably the lengthy court battle between the converted daughters of Moses Isaac-Fliess and their as yet unconverted brothers over their father's 750,000 Taler inheritance. See Chapter 8, note 15. 24. On the Hitzig conversion see Chapter 8, note 19. 25. See Chapter 7, note 28. 26. Many, but probably less than half of the persons listed by Friedlander, also appear in the Judenkartei. The list covers mainly the years 1806 to 1810, though it does include a few persons baptized as far back as 1800. Quite a few of the persons listed were baptized outside of Berlin. Among the elite families listed by Friedlander are the Itzigs (#4, children of Elias Itzig and #5, the Bartholdy brothers), the Levys (#1, 2, and 23, the children, brother, and granddaughter of Martin Salomon Levy—some of them later ennobled as Barons Delmar), the Isaac-Fliesses (#13, Dr. Fliess, grandson of Moses Isaac), the Ephraims (#34, the family of Veitel Ephraim's daughter Rosel Meyer; #40, David Ephraim, Veitel Ephraim's grandson and son-in-law of Daniel Itzig; and #50, children of Benjamin Veitel Ephraim in Paris and Hannover), the von Halles (#3), J. W. Julius, son of the former chief elder Jacob Moses (#28), two daughters of Mendelssohn's employer Moses Bernhard (#30), and finally the children of Moses Mendelssohn (#48). 27. K Ge 2/18 "Berlin Judische Gemeinde Steuern 1809-1810" and P 17-466 in CAHJPJerusalem. The total tax income of the Jewish community in 1809 was 26,664 Reichstaler tax on property (Erech) and 8,595 Reichstaler head tax (Schutzgeld) for a total of 35,259 Reichstaler. 28. The number of baptisms listed in the Judenkartei for the years immediately before and after the Emancipation decree of March 1812 were as follows: 1809 1810 1811 1812 1813 1814 1815 1816 1817

35 44 42 41 24 28 41 60 42

If we count only adults baptized above the age of 20, the figures are: 1811

23

1812 1813 1814 1815

18 13 13 21

The drop in baptisms is not immediate after the decree was proclaimed in March 1812. In fact, there were more baptisms in the second half of 1812 than in the first half. 29. This phenomenon will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 13. 30. The following is the distribution of persons over the age of two who were listed in the Judenkartei of baptisms in Berlin:

248

Notes to pages 125-126 Known to Be from Outside Berlin^

Year 1770-99 1800-09 1810-19 1820-24 1825-29 1830

Known to Be from Berlin*

Birthplace Lfnknownf

N

%

69 48 116

63.9 44.4

69

27 24 68

39 60

35 37

89 189

45.3 54.6 65.6

11

4

26

63.4

11 36

*This category includes all those whose birthplace is clearly listed as Berlin as well as persons whose birthplace is not listed but one of whose parents was born in the city. •jThis category includes all persons for whom there is neither information about their birthplace nor about their parents' birthplace. $This category includes not only those for whom a birthplace other than Berlin is listed, but also 142 persons whose birthplace is not listed but at least one of whose parents is known to have been born outside Berlin.

31. The following are the figures for male converts aged eighteen to twenty-nine between 1819 and 1830: Males between 18 and 29 Year

All Converts in Judenkartei

N

%

1819

1

1829

42 33 42 48 57 54 75 73 62 79 92

7 15 15 16 18 18 22 29 33

16.7 21.2 16.7 31.3 26.3 29.6 24.0 24.7 35.5 36.7 35.9

1830

67

20

30.0

1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828

7

32. In the 1820s, 75 of those baptized were from Posen or Silesia. This represented almost one-third of all converts in the decade not born in Berlin. By way of contrast, migrants from these two provinces were only 15 percent of migrants baptized before 1800 and 20 percent of migrants baptized between 1801 and 1820. Birthplace of Migrants Baptized in Berlin

Year

Posen, Silesia

Brandenburg Central Germany*

Bavaria, Hesse

All Others

1770-1800 1801-1820

6 23

22

4

15

40

10

35

1821-1830

72

58

9

75

"Central Germany includes the territory later incorporated into the "German Democratic Republic" plus the eastern sections of Pomerania and Brandenburg. Gender Division of Baptized Migrants to Berlin Posen, Silesia

Brandenburg Central Germany

Bavaria, Hesse

All Others

Male

82

57

12

86

Female

19

63

11

39

Notes to pages 126-127

249

33. There were 4 students baptized before 1820 and 24 after that date. For the occupational distribution of migrants versus native Berliners who converted see footnote 40, Tables A and B. 34. Meyer, Origins, pp. 178-179, discusses the Prussian Cabinet-Ordre of August 1822 (announced in December 1822) restricting academic posts to Christians, as well as an earlier decree (June 1822) excluding Jews from the higher ranks in the army. A similar discussion is to be found in Heinz Moshe Graupe, The Rise of Modern Judaism, An Intellectual History of German Jewry 1650-1942, trans. John Robertson (Huntington, New York: Robert E. Krieger, 1978), p. 139. See also Freund, Emanzipation vol. 1, p. 239. The decree of December 1823, forbidding all innovations in the Jewish religious service is often described as a factor causing some despairing Jews to convert to Christianity, since there was no longer hope of an internal reform of Judaism. This factor is unlikely to have influenced the rise in baptisms of people coming from the eastern provinces, however, since its most direct effect was in Berlin itself. (See Chapter 12 on the controversy about religious reform.) 35. Examples of "mass baptisms" in the 1820s are the baptisms in the Bethelehem church on May 7, 1829, of six young men born between 1804 and 1810. Their birthplaces, respectively, were Bojanowo in Poland, Grothingen in Courland, Stargard in Pomerania, Danzig, and Hanau near Frankfurt. Other cases took place in the Sophienkirche on March 12, 1823 (three young men, two of them students from the Ukraine), in the Neue Kirche on September 15, 1824 (three teachers at the Cauer institute), in the Parochial church on August 10, 1828 (three young men, two of whom later became professors). 36. On the clustering of conversion in certain families, see Chapter 13. 37. One way to measure the wealth of the families of converts is to look at the tax assessments of their parents (before 1789). The following information is based on the date of conversion of the first child who converted only: Before 1800

1800-12

1813-19

1820-24

1825-29

After 1830

Over 4

3

12

5

2

1

1

2-4

2

5

3

3

1

1

1-2

0

1

3

3

5

2

Under 1

1

0

1

0

0

2

Tax (Taler)

Another set of statistics, this time taking persons who were children in 1812 and who converted later, yields similar results. In this case the tax amounts are based on their parents' 1809 assessments: Date of Conversion Unknown

1812-19

1820-24

1825-29

After 1830

Over 100

9

7

4

5

5

75-99

1

3

\

—

Tax (Taler)

50-74

4

1 2

3

3

—

25^49

4

3

8

3

—

1-24

4

2

6

5

—

12

9

24

24

8

8.3 20.8

12.2 22.0

No tax

% over 100 % over 50

26.5 38.2

29.1 41.7

Notes to pages 127-129

250 38.

Legal Status (individuals who married) General Privilege

Ordinarii

Extraordinarii

Publique Bediente

Number who later converted

19

23

5

1

Number whose children converted

61

115

9

6

Total with conversion in family Total in legal status group % with conversion in family

80

138

14

7

189

948

109

101

42.3

14.6

12.8

6.9

39. Among 20 communal elders who served between 1780 and 1824, at least seven had children who converted. They were Jacob Moses (son converted before 1811), Ephraim Veitel Ephraim (son converted around 1806), Liepmann Alexander (sons converted 1816 and 1820), Isaak Benjamin Wulff (daughter baptized 1823), Hirsch Samuel Bendix (son baptized 1811), Heimann Veitel Ephraim (sons baptized 1816 and 1828), Salomon Nathan, Jr. (at least three children and widow baptized, one son converted before 1811), David Friedlander (son converted 1835). (Only the elders [Parnassim], who generally numbered only three to six at a time, have been included in this list; if less high ranking officers had been included the number would have been even higher.) Among communal officers who themselves converted were Zacharias Friebe, assistant treasurer of the community chosen in 1808 (baptized in 1817), Martin Hirsch Mendheim, chief treasurer of the community chosen in 1808 and 1814 (converted 1816), and Victor Ebers, assistant elder chosen in 1814 (baptized in 1828). Many of the communal elders who had no children who converted had grandchildren who did so, among them Daniel Itzig and Juda Veil. 40. The following tables describe the occupational background (own or father's) of various types of converts listed in the Judenkartei: A. Percent Known to Be Born in Berlin, Above Age Two When Baptized 1 770-99

1 800-09

1810-19

1820-24

1825-29

— 40

19

27

25

28

Kaufmann (merchant)

67

53

31

39

Handelsmann (dealer)

20

—

6

—

Physician

—

—

3

4

Student/teacher/intellectual

—

4

Other

40

11

(N = 5)

(N = 27)

Banker

— 2 — 18

6

8

31

21

(N = 49)

(N = 36)

(N = 53)

B. Percent Known to Be Born Outside Berlin, Above Age Two When Baptized Banker Kaufmann Handelsmann Physician Student/teacher, etc. Other

—

9

5

9

45

26

9

9

21

—

9

7

6 29 8 3

9

—

10

24

73 ( N = 11)

27 ( N = 11)

31 (N = 42)

30 (N = 63)

5 41 7 4

13 31 (N = 109)

Notes to pages 129-130

251

C. Illegitimate Children, Christian Father % of Total Known occupations

Number

2

Kaufmann

1

Handelsmann

2

2

17 14 7 26

58 15 13 6 24

Craftsmen: (all = 64) Tailor Shoemaker Mason Other crafts Soldier or officer All other Total occupations Known Unknown

7

6

35

32

110 8

D. Illegitimate Children, Jewish Father Number

% of Total Known Occupations

Kaufmann

45

40

Handelsmann

11

10

Bookkeeper

13

12

Commercial employee (Handlungsdiener) or servant (Diener)

7

6

Physician or dentist

6

6

All others

27

25

Total occupations Known Unknown

109 47

41. Of 1,968 names on the address list of Berlin Jews in 1812, only 370 lived outside the first four of the twenty-four police districts into which Berlin was divided. Fifty-five of 137 individuals who were later converted (40.1 percent) and 26 of the 81 families that had members who later converted (32.1 percent) lived outside the first four districts. Those who lived outside the first four districts were more likely to convert within a few years after the address list was made in 1812. Of those 28 individuals who were children in 1812, whose addresses in 1812 were known and who were baptized between 1812 and 1819, 19 (over two-thirds) lived outside the first four districts. Of those baptized in the 1820s the percentage was less than a quarter and only 2 of the 29 who were baptized after 1830 (and whose address is known) lived outside the Jewish neighborhood in 1812. 42. Residence of Members of the Merchants Guild—1821 Born Christian

Converted Jews

Unconverted Jews

N

%

N

%

N

%

Districts 1-4 (Alt Berlin)

218

25.6

1

19.4

126

64.3

Districts 5-8 (prestigious western area)*

324

39.3

20

55.6

38

19.9

Other

309

36.3

9

25.0

32

16.3

District

*AltKolln, Friedrichswerder, Dorotheenstadt, and northern Friedrichstadt. (Unter den Linden was in district 7.)

43. Jacobson, Jiidische Trauungen, p. 505, note.

252

Notes to pages 130-135

44. Quoted in many places including Mendes-Flohr and Reinharz, The Jew in the Modern World, pp. 222-223. 45. See for instance, Meyer, Origins, pp. 95, 96-97, 98, 101, 204 note 37. 46. Varnhagen, Denkwiirdigkeiten des eignen Lebens, vol 1, pp. 242-243, 252, 284287. Among those mentioned as being at the Cohens who later converted are Mariana Saaling, the Edeling family and Rahel Levin (later Varnhagen's wife). 47. All the varieties described by Eberty are kosher fish. There is some reason to believe that he is describing Friday night dinners, since he talks about the two lights in the room (next to two bowls of fruit). 48. Eberty, Jugenderinnerungen, pp. I l l , 116, 117, 172, 202, 252-255. There are some cryptic remarks that after Eberty's return from Wittenberg as a teenager, there was no room for him in his parents' small apartment. It would seem hard to imagine that this was related to his baptism, since that must have occurred with his parents' approval, 49. In 1821, for instance, the officers of the merchants guild included the unbaptized Joseph Mendelssohn, as well as three baptized Jews: Wilhelm Zacharias Friebe, Martin Heinrich Mendheim, and Friedrich Gottlieb von Halle. In his humorous memoirs A.H. Heymann writes about how he raised money for a poor Christian teacher and his family by soliciting funds from converted Jews at the stock exchange, since they wouldn't "shut their Jewish hearts to their Christian brother," an obvious indication of continued relations between the converted and their ex-coreligionists (Heymann, Lebenserinnerungen, pp. 228-229). 50. Wilhelm Cassel, who converted in 1809, was Vorsteher (president) from 1805 to 1811 and from 1814 to 1820. Among later presidents were Paul Mendelssohn-Bartholdy (c. 1851)—the younger brother of Felix. Its Oeconom (in charge of food for organizational functions) was Moritz Volkmar, another converted Jew (Lesser, Gesellschaft, pp. 41, 58; Heymann, Lebenserinnerungen, pp. 304-306). 51. Among the converted members were August and J. N. Liman, Joseph Mendheim, and Ludwig Robert. Many other members converted later. 52. Time did not permit making a systematic analysis of the Judenkartei for marriages involving converted Jews found at the Evangelisches Zentralarchiv. The analysis here is restricted to information found in the baptismal records as well as in Jacobson's volumes Jildische Trauungen 1759-1813 and Judenburgerbucher. 53. We could trace about 54 marriages of female converts to Gentile commoners and about the same number of males. At least twelve of the husbands of converted Jews were craftsmen, especially tailors. Of the female converts at least 10 were marrying the fathers of their out-of-wedlock children (most of whom were craftsmen). At least twelve of the men were also marrying the mothers of their children.

Chapter 12 1. The names of the newly elected elders and assistant elders (Tovim and Ikkurim) who signed an appeal for support from the community in December 1808, were Liepmann Meyer Wulff, Samuel Nathan Bendix (Bernsdorff), David Friedlander, Ruben Gumpertz, Liebermann Schlesinger, Juda (Jacob) Herz Beer, Abraham (August) Bendemann, Michael Mendel (Mendheim), and Zacharias Frankel (Friebe)—all of them (except for Wulff) outspoken supporters of innovation. 2. Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, p. 160. 3. A customary subsidy of 500 Reichstaler annually had been set aside to support 40

Notes to pages 135-136

253

yeshiva students (bachurim). In February 1809, the elders asked the heads of the Talmud Torah to introduce the thirty students who were still in Berlin to the elders so they could judge if they were worthy. In March 1809, David Friedlander proposed the end of all subsidies to yeshiva students from out of town. ["Bei der Uberzeugung in welcher alle rechtliche Leute sind, dass der Unterricht der fremden Bachurim aus fremden Stadten, vollig unzweckmassig ist, der Unterhalt dieser Bachurim ktinftighin wegfallen und der Gemeindekasse nichts dazu bei getragen werden soil" (CAHJP—P 17-451)]. By August 1809, the Talmud Torah had agreed to a reduced list of 15 bachurim, which the elders accepted with some conditions. The amount of the subsidy seems still to have been 250 Reichstaler per half year. By the end of 1812 the elders were attempting to cut the subsidy of 500 Reichstaler a year by stating that it was for the education of the poor not necessarily just for those in the Talmud Torah. (In a report to the city government of Berlin in 1812 David Friedlander informed them of the decision to cut the 500 Taler subsidy to the Talmud Torah. He states that the subsidy had only been instituted because the bonds that had formerly supported the institution no longer brought in income.) The elders demanded a list of those being supported before they would pay the subsidy. In January 1813, the Talmud Torah wrote that they supported a Talmud Torah school and also gave subsidies to ten poor parents for educating their children. Since discretion was needed, they refused to give a list. The elders then refused the subsidy. One traditionoriented elder protested, but Friedlander stated the money was being denied not to the needy children but to the officers of the Talmud Torah who were acting in an arbitrary manner. After all, he continued, they were in league with vice-chief rabbi Weyl who was only causing trouble. ("Nicht den armen Kindern welche Unterricht bediirfen soil das Lehrgeld entzogen werden sondern den Herren Vorstehern, welche nach Willkuhr dariiber disponiren, und nicht einmahl nur, den Aeltesten die Nahmen der Empfanger wollen wissen lassen. Es ist unerhort, wie sich Gaboim unterstehen konnen, dergl. Antrage zu machen. Aber sie sind es auch nicht; da halten sie sich in Gemeinschaft mil dem V.O.L. Rabbiner so einen Kahlmauser der ihnen die Ideen angiebt, und nur Sottisen schreiben:das Handwerk muss ihnen gelegt werden") (CAHJP—P17-523). After much discussion the community granted a semiannual subsidy of 100 Reichstaler and the Talmud Torah presented a list of eight names. The personal conflict between the orthodox Weyl and the radical reformer Friedlander also shows itself in other incidents, not all of them directly related to the conflict over the reform service. Thus Rabbi Weyl wrote the elders on another occasion that the government was investigating a Jew for tax evasion and had asked for an attestation to his financial situation. He turned to the elders for the information. Friedlander wrote in the margin, "Herr Weyl nimmt sich Dinge heraus, die wir nicht dulden miissen" ("Mr. Weyl takes on things we need not tolerate") (CAHJP—P 17-523). 4. Meyer, "The Orthodox and The Enlightened. An Unpublished Contemporary Analysis of Berlin Jewry's Spiritual Condition in the Early Nineteenth Century," Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute 25 (1980), 101. Much of the description of the controversy between reformers and orthodox in Berlin in this chapter relies heavily on Michael A. Meyer's intensive research on the subject. The results of this research can be found in the previously mentioned article (pp. 101-130), and even more so in his "The Religious Reform Controversy in the Berlin Jewish Community, 1814-1823," Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute 24 (1979), 139-155, and Response to Modernity, A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), pp. 43-53.

254

Notes to pages 136-138

5. The pamphlet was titled Uber die, durch die neue Organisation der Judenschaften in den Preussischen Staaten nothwendig gewordene Umbildung 1) ihres Gottesdienstes in den Synagogen, 2) ihrer Unterrichts-Anstalten, und deren Lehrgegenstanden, und 3) ihres Erziehungs-Wesens iiberhaupt (Berlin: 1812). The pamphlet was reprinted by Moritz Stern in Beitrage zur Geschichte der jildischen Gemeinde zu Berlin, 6 (Berlin: 1934). One hundred and seventeen petitioners signed the original document granting power of attorney (Vollmachi) to Friedlander, Samuel N. Bernsdorff (Bendix), and Ruben Samuel Gumpertz to make arrangements to create a modern religious service. Later nineteen additional persons signed a Nachtrag. From the order of the signatures it would seem that the petition was circulated from house to house (since it is in geographical order). 6. On the reforms of the Westphalian consistory see Meyer, Response, pp. 28-40. The main change in religious law made by the consistory was the permission to consume such legumes as beans and peas on Passover (Meyer, Response, pp. 36-37). 7. Meyer, Response, pp. 40-43. 8. Meyer, Response, p. 44; Lazarus, "Das Konigliche Westphalische Konsistorium der Israeliten," Monatschrift fiir die Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums (1914), p. 9395. The letter dated September 21, 1808, was addressed to the Jewish Enlightener Aron Wolfsohn. 9. Meyer, "Religious Reform," p. 139. 10. Meyer, "The Orthodox and the Enlightened," pp. 101-102; Meyer, "Reform Controversy," p. 140. The two conservative representatives were the traditionalist rabbi of Berlin, Meyer Simcha Weyl, and the banker Salomon Veil (whose brother Simon had been the husband of Dorothea Mendelssohn). 11. On the incident see Meyer, "Reform Controversy," p. 140 and Response, p.45. Rabbi Weyl's responsum forbade mixed seating of men and women and the participation of women in the choir and also restricted the participation of Christian men in the service. He also objected to the use of German prayers. A copy of Weyl's responsum dated October 14, 1814, is found in CAHJP P-17/533. In the same file is a copy of a letter from the elders to the Gesellschaft der Freunde dated October 18, 1814, detailing all the restrictions on their use of the synagogue. 12. Meyer, Response, pp. 45-46. Beer lived at Spandauerstrasse 72 not far from the main Berlin synagogue. Jacobson's letter to the elders of the community announcing his intention of making his permanent home in Berlin is dated December 30, 1814 (CAHJP P 17-467). A list of private synagogues in Berlin at the beginning of 1816 begins with an entry for "Geheimer Finanzrath Jacobson at Burgstrasse 25"—the Itzig mansion (CAHJP— P 17/578). In 1812 the inhabitants of that building had included a number of leaders in the reform movement including David Friedlander and Ruben Samuel Gumpertz. The same document lists a private synagogue in the home of "Herz Beer," but the location of that service is not at the familiar Spandauerstrasse 72, but rather at Behrenstrasse 47 outside the Jewish neighborhood in the prestigious area near Unter den Linden. Both the confirmation itself and information on the services in Jacobson's home and later in Beer's house are described in an article in Sulamith 4. Jahrgang, 2. Teil pp. 66-70. 13. Meyer "Religious Controversy," pp. 139, 141. 14. An orthodox petition to the elders asking their intercession against an order of the Ministry of Interior forbidding Hebrew prayers dated March 1816, can be found in CAHJP— P-17-532. In the same file (pp. 127-128, 131) there is a petition by Bendemann, a leading reformer for a decision implementing the decree requiring prayer in German—November 1816. 15. Meyer, "Reform Controversy," pp. 142-143.

Notes to pages 138-141

255

16. The traditionalists wanted renovations with no changes, while proreformers wanted repairs only if a German service were instituted (CAHJP—PI7-532). The dates of the deliberations on the form of the repair work are from June to October 1816. By January 1817, the proreform elders were claiming that the synagogue needed the building of an annex (Anbau) so that simultaneous services in Hebrew and German could take place. This was approved. Meanwhile, by August 1817, reformed services were again being held (Meyer, "Religious Controversy," pp. 143-144). When shortly thereafter a confirmation was held in the Beer temple, this came to the attention of the king, who .took steps against religious innovations but did allow the service in Beer's home to continue. The orthodox, now convinced that the royal government favored them, complained to the officials about the sectarian nature of the reform service and asked that a commission of rabbis decide on its permissibility. The reformers in turn sent a closely reasoned defense of their service. In 1818 the proreform elders of the community delayed completing the repairs of the main synagogue pending government decision on whether to allow a second synagogue or an Anbau for simultaneous services by the two religious factions. The orthodox then raised money for completing the repairs without an Anbau. A considerable amount (at least 1,950 Taler) was raised from a small number of wealthy traditionalists in May and June of 1819 (CAHJP—K Ge 2/81 [2]). The reformers tried to stop them, but eventually a temporary truce was called with the orthodox using the almost completed synagogue and the reformers remaining at Beer's house on Spandauerstrasse. 17. Meyer, Response, pp. 48-50. 18. On holidays the traditional service was to end at 11 A.M. A boys' choir was instituted for the supplemental German service consisting mostly of poor boys from the Freischule. After the supplemental service was prohibited, the boys petitioned the community for payment for the Sabbaths they had served (CAHJP—K Ge 2/81 [2])—February 2, 1824. 19. "Dass der Gottesdienst der Juden nur in der hiesigen Synagoge und nur nach dem hergebrachten Ritus ohne die geringste Neuerung in der Sprache und in der Ceremonie, Gebeten und Gesangen, ganz nach dem alten Herkommen gehalten werden soil" (Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 2, p. 233-234). 20. Meyer, "Religious Controversy," pp. 147-150 (CAHJP—K Ge 2/81 [2]). 21. As a corollary to this inferior status, in 1825 the Prussian government forbade the Jewish community from continuing the traditional tax on kosher meat. The government stated that this tax was an illegal consumption tax, which only governments could levy. They did offer to use government enforcement for the regular communal property assessments, however (CAHJP—P 17-453, Stern Collection). 22. Geiger, Geschichte, vol. 2, p. 213. 23. Meyer, Response, p. 52; Geiger, vol. 2, pp. 235-238. 24. Geiger, Geschichte, vol. 1, pp. 152-154; vol. 2, pp. 193-199. 25. Of 69 identified orthodox Jews in the period after 1812 only 7 were also listed among the participants in the reform service or as proreform petitioners. As against these 7 who are listed among both groups, 238 male heads of household were listed as reformers who were not to be found on lists of Orthodox supporters or of the burial society. This is less than half the overlap of the 1770s (see Chapter 6, p. 63). 26. The list is to be found in the CAHJP- Jerusalem in file K Ge 2/83. It is unlabeled but must be the list of reform congregants from 1818 since the numbers in each category are identical to the numbers in a report dated November 25, 1818, which says how many persons there were in the Neue Gemeinde ("new" congregation) (CAHJP—P17-454). 27. The sample used for the orthodox in this study consists of a combination of the

256

Notes to pages 141-142

membership of the burial society in 1813 and the signers of two antireform petitions in 1816 and 1817. The numbers listed there are much smaller and perhaps can be taken as including only the orthodox leadership. 28. See Meyer, "Reform Controversy," p. 146, including note 27. The larger number is claimed in an orthodox petition of 1819, while the other figure comes from a newspaper article in 1820. 29. The 108 members of the reform community listed in the tax list of 1809 averaged 75.5 Reichstaler in annual tax, while the 71 orthodox averaged 40.3 Reichstaler. 30. On Liepmann Meyer Wulff, the wealthiest orthodox Jew in Berlin, see Chapter 8, pp. 90-91. Fewer than 20 percent of the surviving orthodox activists paid 80 Taler or more in annual taxation (as compared to about 40 percent of reformers). Two of the 13 Orthodox activists (members of the burial society or antireform petitioners) who paid over 80 Taler in taxes were also on the list of reform affiliates. Only about 30 percent of reform families on the tax list paid 25 Taler a year or less (as against almost 60 percent of orthodox leaders). 31. Of those affiliated with the reformed service, 23 are listed as bankers in Jacobson's Judische Trauungen; five others are listed as Wechsler. In the list of Berlin Jews in 1812 there are 19 bankers (and eight Wechsler) with the same reform affiliation. In the list of members of the reformed service itself there are no fewer than 50 individuals listed as bankers. Twelve others are listed as having money-changing businesses. 32. In the 1812 list of Berlin Jews at least 50 of the affiliates with the reformed service were listed as Handlungsdiener. At least 16 additional persons, almost all of them recent arrivals in Berlin, are listed as Handlungsdiener in the reform list itself. 33. Other relatively common occupations among the reformers were leather dealer, cotton dealer, pawnbroker, bookkeeper, broker, rentier, and general cloth dealer (Warenhandlung). Three different documents list the occupations of people affiliated with the reformed services. Often the occupation listed for the same individual differs from one list to the other. Jacobson's Judische Trauungen lists five later reformers as Baumwollhandler (cotton dealer) and 8 as Kattunhdndler, 4 as brokers (Courtier or Makler), 1 as leather dealers, and five as pawnbrokers. The 1812 list of Berlin Jews lists 10 later reformers as bookkeepers or ex-bookkeepers, 6 as brokers, 6 as leather dealers, 10 as living off capital (rentiers and Particuliers), 4 as pawnbrokers. The list of reform affiliates lists the following as common occupations: bookkeeper-7, Kattunfabrik (calico factory)-9, broker-11, leather dealer-5, living off capital-21, Warenhandlung-31. Of the intellectual professions only the following are listed—in Jacobson: one physician, one dentist; in the 1812 list: 2 dentists, 1 Jewish scholar, 8 teachers, 3 physicians, 3 artists, 2 school directors; the reform list includes 1 educator, 1 doctor, 5 medical students, 1 music teacher, 1 Ph.D., 4 school directors, 1 Gelehrter, 1 doctor of laws, 4 physicians, 1 artist. 34. In Jacobson's pre-1813 marriage list there are 5 orthodox listed as bankers and 9 as merchants (Kaufleute). Together these make up only about one-third of all orthodox whose occupations are listed. Of reformers listed in the same source, the 23 bankers and 31 merchants make up almost 44 percent of all whose occupations are listed. In the same source there are 6 orthodox listed as dealers (Handelsmanri) and 4 as pawnbrokers. Among those orthodox listed in the address list of 1812 there were 18 merchants and four bankers (and 4 money changers [Wechsler]), but also 6 old clothes dealers, 4 dealers (Handelsleute), and 6 pawnbrokers.

Notes to pages 142-143

257

35. It would seem that at least 123 persons who had either signed reform petitions or were affiliated with the reform service belonged to the Korporation der Kaufmannschaft in 1821. This is the majority of all members of the Korporation who were born Jewish. Of the 197 unbaptized members of the Korporation, no fewer than 114 had been previously affiliated with reform in some way. The orthodox members of the Korporation are somewhat harder to document, but their numbers seem to have been fewer than ten. 36. On Burgstrasse, Poststrasse, and Heilige Geiststrasse there were twenty-four reform affiliates and two orthodox leaders. On Jiidenstrasse and Stralauerstrasse there were five reformers and twenty orthodox. The distribution of orthodox and reform taxpayers by district was as follows: Reform

Orthodox

N

District

%

N

%

1

12

19.4

34

35.8

2

25

40.3

22

23.1

3

9

14.5

10

10.5

4

11

17.7

11

11.6

57

91.9

77

81.1

—

0.0

10

10.5

2

3.2

3

4.8

5

8.1

Total Districts 1-4 5-8

9-16,

18-24

17

Total Districts 5-24 Total for city

62

— 8 18

0.0 8.4

18.9

95

37. Districts 5-8: Alt Kolln, Friedrichswerder, Dorotheenstadt, and northern Friedrichstadt. These areas were either close to the royal palace or to Unter den Linden. 38. For a comparison of residential distribution of Berlin Jews in 1744 with their distribution in 1812, see Chapter 7, footnote 36. 39. Eight of the thirteen orthodox activists who paid at least 80 Taler in annual taxes lived in the second police district where orthodox Jews tended to concentrate, and only one of these on one of the streets where the wealthy were common (Burgstrasse). Of the 28 reform members who paid less than 25 Taler whose addresses are known, four were wealthy men exempt from taxation. Of the others, 3 lived on the "poor and orthodox" Stralauerstrasse and 3 on the wealthy Burg- or Poststrasse; 3 lived in wealthy districts far to the southwest of the Jewish neighborhood; and 3 lived in district 17 just northeast of the four Jewish districts. A total of 4 of the 24 "poor reformers" lived in the second police district and four in the similarly modest third district. 40. If we take those orthodox and reformers who were listed as taxpayers in 1809 (a procedure that probably reduces the actual age difference), we find that the average reform affiliate was born in 1766, seven years later than the average orthodox leader. 41. When we look at a full list of all male reform heads of household we find an even younger group with an average birthdate in the early 1770s. The average birthdate of male heads of household affiliated with the reformed service in 1818 was approximately 1773 (for an age of about 45) (N = 209). The average birthdate of their wives was four years later (N = 117). Single males affiliated with the service were born on average around 1778 and widows around 1772. If we include dependent children we find the average age of reform affiliates in 1818 was 30 to 31 (N = 716). 42. Among male heads of households in 1812 the following were the percentages of later reformers:

258

Notes to page 143 Birthdate

All

Reformers

Percentage

35

59

21

1770-79

130

50

38

1760-69

127

39

31

1750-59

104

27

26

1740^19

55

3

5

Before 1740

13

—

—

After 1780

If we take the entire Jewish population of Berlin we also get the highest percentage among those born in the 1770s (except among the very young dependents): Birthdate

All

Reformers (including dependents)

Percentage

After 1800

735

197

27

1790-99

637

130

20

1780-89

717

128

18

1770-79

518

131

25

1760-69

350

78

22

1750-59

257

42

16

1740-49

153

8

5

43. Among the reformers the younger household heads tended to be wealthier than those born before 1760. Among the orthodox there was little difference in wealth between the old and the young. Bom Before 1760 Taxed (Taler)

Bom 1760 or Later

Reform

Orthodox

Other

Under 25

1

12

25-99 Over 100

1

8

9

4

Other

Reform

Orthodox

29

12

10

19

20

34

6

37

15

23

4

8

44. The tax list is to be found in CAHJP—P 17-466, pp. 56-66. The list is not itself labeled, though the last page, which adds up the totals, includes references to "Rindfleisch," "Kalbshachse"^], "Rind," "Fett" (in Hebrew script), etc. There are also very high amounts listed for a number of people who in other documents state that they buy large amounts of meat for their restaurant or catering businesses. The document is undated but can be assumed to be from about 1814 because it lists "Grushas Joseph Behm" (the divorcee of Joseph Bohm), who we know was divorced in July 1812, and remarried in November 1813. The name of "the widow of Isaac Euchel" is crossed out in the list. She died on April 11, 1814. We have other information showing that persons who attended the reformed service also observed other traditional Jewish practices. Among persons who were sworn in as citizens of Berlin were several individuals whose records state "refused to sign because of the Sabbath." Among these persons was Joseph Wolff, who is also listed as attending the reformed service. In general the social patterns of kosher meat taxpayers differed somewhat from those of the orthodox. They tended not to be poorer than nonkosher taxpayers. The amount of capital tax (ErecK) paid by the kosher meat purchasers was almost identical to those of the nonkosher purchasers. Within each ideological group, however, the kosher meat taxpayers were wealthier than nonkosher taxpayers. Reform kosher meat taxpayers who paid any tax on capital averaged 109 Reichstaler annual communal taxes (N = 34), while reform non-

Notes to page 143

259

kosher taxpayers paid only 84 (N = 48). Among the orthodox the figures were 52 (N = 46) and 5 (N = 4), respectively. This is not surprising, since the ability to buy enough kosher meat to have it taxed would be higher among the wealthy than among the poor (CAHJP— P 17-466). There were also a larger percentage of kosher taxpayers than orthodox living in the first police district, an area in which there were a considerable number of reform affiliates who kept kosher. Kosher Taxpayers by "Religious Affiliation" and Residence Reform

Orthodox

Police District

Paid Kosher Meat Tax

Did Not Pay Kosher Meat Tax

Paid Kosher Meat Tax

Did Not Pay Kosher Meat Tax

1

10

2

15

19

2

23

3

9

12

3

8

1

6

4

4

7 _

1

3

8

—

—

10

2

2

6

5-16 17-24

3

45. Among all persons who were on the kosher meat tax list, the older taxpayers were slightly less likely to pay the tax. This seems to be mainly a result of the fact that many of the older taxpayers were poor and may not have paid any tax. If we count all but the smallest taxpayers we find that older taxpayers who paid some taxes were more likely to pay the kosher meat tax than others. Persons Paying 10 Taler or More in Taxes

All Taxpayers Birthdate After 1780

Paid Meat Tax

Paid Meat Tax

Did Not Pay Meat Tax

Did Not Pay Meat Tax

6

10

5

7

1770-79

34

34

29

26

1760-69

45

52

40

36

1750-59

38

41

28

25

1740-49

28

25

23

8

9

.10

6

2

Before 1740

If we look at taxpayers affiliated with the reform service we see a remarkable pattern with younger reformers much more likely to pay the tax than older ones. Had we considered only reform Jews who paid at least 10 Taler in communal taxation there would have been little difference from this overall pattern. All Reform Taxpayers Birthdate After 1780

Paid Meat Tax

Did Not Pay Meat Tax

Percentage Who Paid Tax

4

3

57

1770-79

12

16

43

1760-69

14

24

37

1750-59

5

18

22

1740-49

2

1

67

Before 1740

260

Notes to pages 144-152

46. The later members of the Beer-Jacobson temple supplied the following numbers of subscribers to Haskala works or works published under Haskala auspices: Mendelssohn's Bible translation Hameassef (1185) Emunot ve-De'ot (by Sa'adia Gaon) Besamim Rosh Mishle Asaf Aristotle, Ethics (Satanov edition) Mata'ei Kedem by Shalom Hacohen Imre Shefer by Herz Homberg

4 8 9 9 15 17 17 10

Of those who were either members of the burial society in 1813 or signed an tire form petitions the figures are as follows: Mendelssohn's Bible translation Hameassef Emunot ve-De'ot Besamim Rosh Mishle Asaf Aristotle, Ethics Mata'ei Kedem Imre Shefer

1 1 — 6 3 4 4 1

These raw figures overestimate the degree to which the reformers had been more likely than the orthodox to subscribe to Haskala works, since the total sample of orthodox is only 53 and the total number of reform heads of household is 127. The percentage of reformers in the sample who subscribed to at least one Haskala work was 29.1 percent as against 24.5 percent for the orthodox. However, the later reformers were much more likely to subscribe to more than one Haskala work than were those who remained orthodox. The leader of the attack on the Beer-Jacobson temple, Gottschalk Helfft, had subscribed to Satanov's Mishle Asaf and to his edition of Aristotle's Ethics. 47. One cannot, of course, extrapolate from our evidence that younger families were more likely to pay the kosher meat tax than older ones to an assumption that they were therefore automatically less radical ideologically. This is certainly not the case of some of the younger, unmarried, ideologues like Zunz and lost for whom the older leaders were too moderate. 48. Of the founders, Isaac Levin Auerbach was born in 1788, Isaac Markus lost in 1793, Leopold Zunz in 1794, Moses Moser in 1797, and Eduard Cans in 1798. Joseph Hillmar, a bookkeeper born in 1767, was significantly older. Joel List was slightly older, born in 1780 (Jacobson, Burgerbucher, p. 206). Auerbach and Zunz were both preachers at the reform temple, of which Jost and List were also active members. Auerbach had arrived in Berlin in 1806, Hillmar in 1809, Moser and List in 1814, and Zunz in 1815. 49. Ruben Gumpertz, Joseph Muhr, and Samuel Bernsdorff are listed as payers of the kosher meat tax in 1814, but such other reform leaders as August Bendemann, Jacob Herz Beer, Liebermann Schlesinger, not to speak of David Friedlander, are not.

Chapter 13 1. Especially in his volumes Jiidische Trauungen in Berlin 1759-1813; Jiidische Trauungen in Berlin 1723-1759, and Die Jiidische Burgerbucher der Stadt Berlin 1809-1851. 2. These figures refer to relationships among male heads of family alone. Inclusion of

Notes to pages 152-153

261

the numerous spouses and unmanned children living with parents would inflate the figures for family ties among reform members much more. In addition there were numerous reform heads of family who had more distant relatives (such as nephews, nieces, or first cousins) within the reform congregation. 3. In most cases in which siblings converted, they were between 17 and 30. Of those residing in Berlin in 1812 who were later converted and who had a sibling who also converted, the age at baptism was as follows: 16 and under 17-20 21-25 26-30 31-35

16 20 18 20 7

36 and over

2

The number of those who converted before the age of sixteen would be increased if we included those born after 1812 who were baptized together with their parents. The total number of children between ages 2 and 16 baptized in Berlin between 1813 and 1830 was 74, most of them baptized together with siblings. Some of their families, however, arrived in the city after 1812. 4. There were three cases of couples converting without children (six persons), nine cases of parents converting together with their children (35 persons), 8 cases of parents who converted after their children (35 persons), 2 cases of parents who converted before their children (5 persons), one case where the relative dates of conversion of parent and child were unknown (2 persons), and at least 16 cases of siblings who converted (40 persons). Those listed in the Judenkartei had similar patterns to those on the 1812 list who later were baptized: about one-half had at least one sibling or a parent who likewise converted. 5. Of about 350 couples that had at least two children who married Jews in Berlin between 1759 and 1813, the vast majority (about 230) had no children who converted and no children whose children converted. Ten couples had a single child who converted and 64 had a single child who had at least one child who converted. The remaining approximately 45 had more than one child who converted or whose children converted. These patterns of multiple descendants who converted took various forms. In some cases a child converted and children of unconverted siblings also converted (i.e., the nieces and nephews of the converts); in others several siblings converted, while in others none of the children converted but several had children who converted (i.e., the converts were cousins to each other). When we go one generation further back and look at grandparents of persons who married in Berlin we find few cases of persons who converted without some other relatives also converting. 6. None of the fifteen children of Daniel Itzig converted but among his grandchildren we know that the following converted: four of the children of Isaac Daniel Itzig, one of the children of Bliimchen Friedlander, three of the children of Bella Bartholdy, one child of Fanny von Arnstein, eight children of Elias Daniel Hitzig, two children of Benjamin D. Itzig, at least one of the children of Hanne Fliess, and four children of Henriette Oppenheim—a total of at least 24. The total number of Itzig grandchildren who probably remained Jewish is only eight. At least four of the children of Moses Isaac-Fliess converted. Among the children of the unbaptized children were at least six additional persons who converted. A majority of the great-grandchildren of Veitel Heine Ephraim also eventually became Christians.

262

Notes to pages 153-156

See Steven Lowenstein, "Jewish Upper Crust and Berlin Jewish Enlightenment—The Family of Daniel Itzig," in Frances Malino and David Sorkin (eds.), From East and West. Jews in a Changing Europe 1750-1870 (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1990), pp. 182-201. 7. See, for instance, the pattern of conversions among the descendants of Abraham and Jachet Leffmann (Chapter 14, p. 168 and Genealogical Table 4), and of Nathan and Sara Liepmann (Chapter 13, p. 158 and Genealogical Table 3). Additional cases with several conversions within the family were the five converted children of Joel Samuel von Halle (baptized between 1806 and 1835) as well as the grandchildren of Joseph Hirsch Frankel (three converted grandchildren and three other grandchildren whose children converted) and Marcus David Riess (two converted grandchildren and nine other grandchildren whose children converted). 8. These six orthodox individuals had, between them, eight sons who were listed among the heads of household belonging to the reform temple. 9. Children's Ideological Affiliation in 1810s Correlated with Parent's Ideological Affiliation in 1770s Subscribers to Mendelssohn Bible Translation (number traceable - 93) Children's Affiliation Reform Orthodox

Members of Burial Society—1778 (number traceable - 68)

Sons

Daughters or Sons-in-law

Sons

Daughters or Sons-in-law

25

24

11

17

3

6

8

5

Note the tendency for the daughters to join the opposite ideological camp more often than the sons, probably under the influence of their husbands. See the discussion in Chapter 14. 10. Another sign that the trend over the generations was away from orthodoxy. 11. The thirteen who later converted were Carl Julius, Victor Ebers, Albert Edeling, Carl Simon, Marcus Robert-Tornow, Georg von Oppenfeld, Otto Nauen, Ferdinand Oppert, Eduard Meyer, Friedrich Schadow, Siegesmund Liebert, Heinrich Liebert, and Leopold Liman. It is unclear whether Martin J. Schlesinger, who later converted, was one of the 245 heads of household listed for the reform temple or not. The 42 with children who converted (not including the above listed converts who also had children who converted) had at least 60 children who later converted. There were also at least 2 wives of (converted) heads of reform families and 4 independent single men from the reform list who later converted. One widow on the list had a converted child as well. 12. These included Joachim Ephraim, Joseph Mendheim, Martin Heinrich Mendheim, and Joseph Neuburger. Martin Riese and Ludwig Rintel, who signed the reform petition in 1812 and were not listed as reformers in 1818, converted in the 1820s. At least four of those who signed the petition but were not later listed as affiliates of the reform service had children who converted (Abraham Friedlander, Ruben Goldschmidt, Martin Heinrich Mendheim, and Martin Riese). Between them these four had 11 children who converted. 13. These seven were Moses David Benda, Daniel Salomon Levy, Isaac Moser, Heimann Liebmann, Meyer Moses Meyer, Joseph Jonas, and Elkan Jonas. The first two named were both members of the orthodox burial society and reform heads of household. Whereas many reform parents had several baptized children, only one of the seven orthodox parents had more than one child who converted (Meyer Moses Meyer who had two converted children). In addition to those listed above, Jonas Keiser, who had a baptized daughter, may have been a member of the burial society.

Notes to pages 156-158

263

14. All of the seven children of the orthodox whose baptismal date is known were baptized after 1826 as against 33 of 63 traceable children of reformers. The average age of children of orthodox at baptism was 31 as against 25 for the children of reformers. 15. Closest Converted Relative among Reformed and Orthodox Jews in Early Nineteenth Century Berlin* Reform

N

Converted Relative

Orthodox

%

N

%

Converted themselves

13

5.3

At least one child

42

17.1

— 7

— 9.1

Sibling

11

4.5

4

5.2

9

3.7

2

2.6

Niece or nephew

31

12.6

15

19.5

Cousin

13

5.3

5

6.5

7

2.9

4

5.2

119

48.5

40

51.9

Sister-in-law or brother-in-law

Other relativest No converted relatives known

245

Total

77

*This table includes only the unduplicated closest relative (in the order given in the table). So, if a person converted, he or she is not listed among those with converted children. A person with both a converted nephew and a converted cousin is counted only for the nephew. tSon-in-law or daughter-in-law, aunt or uncle, grandchild.

16. The tendency toward baptism was even greater among the children of those who subscribed to the Haskala journal Hameassef in Berlin. There were 55 such subscribers in Berlin of whom we can trace 40. Of these forty, 4 were later baptized and 18 others had children who converted—a clear majority. 17. Approximately 99 members of the Gesellschaft der Freunde from Berlin families joined the organization during its first year of existence (1792). Of these, at least 17 (C. A. E. Neo, Wilhelm Cassel, Levin Arendt, J. M. A. Neo, Abraham Mendelssohn-Bertholdy, Benoni Friedlander, Louis Levy (Delmar), Heinrich Fliess, Bernhard Wessely, Ludwig Rintel, Gerhard Eschwe, Julius Eduard Hitzig, Dr. Boehm, Ephraim Cohen, Abraham Crelinger, M. C. D. Meyer [Oberhiltteninspector}, and Anton H Bendemann) converted sometime during their lifetime. The baptism of Gumpel Meyer is probable. Of the 24 members who married Jews in Berlin before 1813, seven converted and seven had children who converted. The number of conversions in the second generation is probably much higher. 18. The contrast is increased slightly if we remove from consideration those persons who belonged to the burial society and also subscribed to the Mendelssohn Bible. We then arrive at the following figures: Mendelssohn Bible

Burial Society

Both

N

%

N

%

N

%

51

65

52

95

10

77

Children converted

28

35

3

5

2

15

Converted themselves

—

1

8

No conversions

—

19. Nathan Liepmann's son Isaac converted in 1809 and took the name Isaac Nathanael Liman. Isaac's brother Abraham converted four months later and took the name Carl August Liman. One of their sisters, Henriette, married August Wilhelm Leffmann who converted one month after Isaac. She hesitated to convert and divorced her husband, but never-

264

Notes to pages 158-160

theless finally converted in 1813. Another sister, Vogelchen, married Salomon Nathan, Jr. Shortly after his death in 1817 she converted to Christianity along with her daughter and took the name Fanny Solmar. Several children of Isaac Liman who did not convert together with him did convert after reaching adulthood. Wilhelmine, the daughter of Heinrich Liman, one of the few of Nathan Liepmann's children who did not convert, received baptism in 1816. 20. These include all who are listed as gabbai (warden) of the following: Talmud Torah, Eretz Yisrael (land of Israel), and Hebron. 21. The average "highest tax" paid by members of the burial society in 1778 was 2 Taler, 4 Groschen, 12 Pfennig (N = 68), compared to 4 Taler, 6 Groschen for trustees of the Beth Hamidrash (N = 45), and 1 Taler, 11 Groschen, 4 Pfennig for wardens of traditional charities (N = 23). 22. Rates of Conversion of Descendants of Various Groups of Traditional Jews Beth Hamidrash Trustees

Burial Society Members

N

%

N

%

N

%

62

36

80

21

9

20

2

91 9

86

62

25

36

26

7

77 21

16

12

1

3

Converted children

5

Converted themselves

1

91 7 1

121 24 7

80 15 5

No Conversion, no converted children

Wardens of Traditional Charities

—

—

Of their children who married in Berlin No conversion, no converted children Converted children Converted themselves

23. Relative Rate of Conversion of Children by Ideology and Wealth Subscribers to Mendelssohn 's Bible Translation

Burial Society Members

N

%

N

%

No conversion, no children converted

22

55

7

70

Children converted

18

45

3

30

Assessed for 4 Taler or above

Converted themselves

_

—

Assessed for less than 4 Taler No conversion, no children converted

33

72

55

95

Children converted

12

26

2

4

1

2

1

2

Converted themselves

24. Conversion among Descendants of Reform Jews Paid Kosher Meat Tax N

%

Did Not Pay Kosher Meat Tax

N

%

27

73

36

56

Children converted

9

24

25

39

Converted themselves

1

3

3

5

No conversion, no children converted

Notes to pages 160-161

265

Since virtually all orthodox Jews who did not pay the kosher meat tax did so because of poverty there is no reason to distinguish between those orthodox Jews who paid the tax (58) and those who did not (13). 25. One particularly striking case of this phenomenon was the conversion of the nine children of Heinrich Carl Heine and his wife, Henriette nee Mertens, on May 1, 1825. Although both parents lived the rest of their lives as Jews, they had their children, aged one to fourteen, baptized together. 26. The definition of orthodoxy of these two mothers is unclear, especially since there is evidence that Rahel Varnhagen's mother ate nonkosher food. 27. Of 174 persons who resided in Berlin in 1812, were born in Berlin, and were later baptized, and about whom we have some information about their parents: Both parents were alive at time of baptism Both parents were deceased Father was deceased and mother was alive Father was alive and mother was deceased One parent was known to be alive, the other unknown One parent was known deceased At least one parent was alive and later baptized

33 41 25 11 5 10 49

parents never baptized

28. Of the four children of the orthodox whose parents' death dates can be traced, two had both parents alive and two had both parents dead. Among children of reformers 24 had both parents alive and only 7 had both parents dead. Fifteen of the children of reformers who converted had at least one parent who also converted. Of the remaining eighteen, some had one parent alive and the other dead and some had one parent whose date of death is unknown. 29. Benoni Friedlander was baptized on February 23, 1835, together with his wife, Rebecca nee von Halle. His father had died on December 25, 1834, and his mother twenty years earlier. Although it would seem that Benoni did not join the church during his father's lifetime out of respect for his father, this did not prevent Benoni and Rebecca from having their four children baptized during David Friedlander's lifetime. Their ages at baptism respectively were 20, 20, 18, and 13. Certainly the baptism of the youngest could only have been at the behest of the parents. David Friedlander remained on good terms with his grandchildren despite their baptism. The other persons who were baptized shortly after the death of their parents were: Lea Bellcourt (Fliess) nee Wulff whose mother died on May 6, 1823. She was baptized on August 13 of the same year. Her father had died in 1802. Moritz Wallach, the son of Dietrich Moritz Wallach, was baptized on October 18, 1828, less than one month after his father's death. The elder Wallach had belonged to the reform congregation. Moritz's mother had died in 1809. Siegesmund Liebert was baptized on December 20, 1816, eight and a half months after his mother's death. His father had died in 1799. Johann Oppert was baptized in 1821; his father died in 1821. The only child of orthodox Jews to be baptized shortly after her parents' death was Emilie Jonas, baptized on April 4, 1829. Her parents died on January 23, 1828, and August 8, 1828. In a few cases in which a baptism took place within a year or two after the death of a parent, the other parent was still alive at the time of baptism: Debora Friebe (mother Vogel Levy died 20 years later) Carl Friedlander (mother died seven years later) Moritz Hillmar (mother died later)

266

Notes to pages 161-164

In two or three cases a parent died within a few months after the baptism of a child. Although one might speculate that some of these deaths were hastened by the child's baptism, there is no evidence to prove this: Julie Jacoby baptized August 12, 1830; mother died November 18, 1830. Amalie Neuburger baptized March 16, 1810; father died April 4, 1810.

Chapter 14 1. Sometimes historians have seemed to go to the opposite extreme of the usual historiography and to concentrate exclusively on the women in isolation from the men. This chapter attempts to compare the two genders rather than treat them in isolation. 2. On one occasion when David Friedlander asked Markus Herz to explain a passage in a Goethe poem, Herz told him to "go to my wife, she knows how to explain all kinds of nonsense." This incident is frequently quoted, most recently in Wilhelmy, Salon, p. 50. Wilhelmy also quotes Markus Herz's teasing remark to his wife, when the latter could not completely explain a poem by the Romantic poet Novalis, questioning whether Novalis understood it either. 3. Fiirst, Henriette Herz, pp. 117-118, 94, 95. 4. Meyer, Origins, p. 85. 5. Among the men of the salons who were associated in part with Romanticism were Julius Hitzig, Ludwig Robert, and Hermann Eberty (see Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 149150). 6. The differences are frequently ascribed to the disparity in women's and men's education. This chapter will argue that the importance of educational differences has been exaggerated (see pp. 171-172). 7. One need only look at the way the relationship between Dorothea Mendelssohn and her first husband, Simon Veil, is usually described. A similar image is given of Model and his wife, Elisabeth, in Euchel's play Reb Henoch. 8. If one counts illegitimate children with converted Jewish fathers or converted Jewish mothers, then the ratio of children of Jewish fathers to children of Jewish mothers is only 90 to 60. 9. As opposed to the ratio of 90 Jewish men to 53 women in the years 1780-1805, the proportions between 1806 and 1830 were 38 men to 39 women. If we include cases where we know the religion of one of the parents but not the religion of the other, the post-1806 ratio becomes more heavily weighted toward the female (48 Jewish males and 79 females). 10. Some examples of long-standing out-of-wedlock relationships with many children involving Jewish men and Christian women are The merchant Joseph Riess and Caroline Friedericke Rosenblum (Christian despite her name)—6 children The merchant Ludwig Arndt and Dorothea Meissel—3 children August Bernhard Wilhelm Brandes and Sophie Henriette Jordan—six children The innkeeper Wilhelm Franke and Wilhelmine Mullern—11 children

11. One example among many is the liaison between the Christian tailor Friedrich Wilhelm Grantzow and Braunchen Moses (called Johanna Elisabeth Anspach after her baptism) who had 3 children before their marriage and 5 more afterward. 12. In some of these cases, the Jewish spouse was baptized before some or all the illegitimate children were born. These cases are not restricted to the years 1770-1806 but cover the entire period until 1830.

Notes to pages 164-166

267

Converted Jewish women also outnumbered converted Jewish men among the parents of legitimate baptized children of mixed parentage. This would be another indication that Jewish women were more likely to marry their non-Jewish lovers than Jewish men were to marry their non-Jewish mistresses. It would also point to a higher rate of intermarriage for women than men. 13. Since these figures apply only to the years 1770-1805 but the figures for couples who legitimized their children apply to the years 1770-1830, the figures do not add up to 90 men and 53 women. 14. Only 30 of the 211 newborn infants in the Judenkartei baptized between 1770 and 1805 were born within wedlock. Virtually none of these had a mother who was still Jewish at the time of birth. Babies under the age of two months made up 62.2 percent of all those listed in the Judenkartei for 1770-1805, but only 38.6 percent of those between 1806 and 1819 and only 27.3 percent of those listed between 1820 and 1830. The gender mix of these baptized infants shows a slight predominance of females before 1806 and a slight predominance of males after 1806. 15. If one breaks down the figures even more specifically, one finds that female predominance was most noticeable in the early period in the age group 20-24. Between 1770 and 1805, 34 women in that age group (72.3 percent) and only 13 men were baptized. (In the 1820s, men outnumbered women in that age group by well over two to one.) 16. Age-Gender Breakdown of Those Baptized by Period Under 2 months old

2 monthsIS years

M

F

M

1770-1805

96

115

12

17

5

1806-1819

94

74

36

35

13

1820-1830

95

82

26

34

54

11

F

16-19 M

20-29

F

Unknown adult

30+

M

F

M

F

6

20

48

13

4

13

33

13

53

49

49

28

37

27

158

79

78

32

24

9

M

F

Absolute numbers

Percentage female 1770-1805

54.5

58.6

54.5

70.6

23.5

71.7

1806-1819

44.0

49.3

50.0

48.0

36.4

42.2

1820-1830

46.3

56.7

16.9

33.3

29.1

27.3

17. The following women are known-to have had at least one illegitimate child before their baptism: Sophia Mendel (1773), Nucha Simonin (1783), Johanna Abraham (1788), Johanna Lehmannin (1789), Christiana Jacobin (1790), Christiane Feibel (1792), Carolina Heimann (1792), Christina Leberecht (1793), Friederike Leberecht (1798), Christiane Ernstin (1799), Breinchen Moses (1799), Henrietta Langen (1804), Karoline Levi (1805), Wilhelmine Wolf (1805). This represents only a small proportion of the 91 women baptized during the period, however. At least thirteen other women married the fathers of their children in the period from 1806 to 1830. Most of the Jewish mothers of illegitimate children in the period before 1806 did not convert. 18. Men marrying the Christian mothers of their children before 1806 included: Aaron Bloch (1803), Joseph Fliess (1804), Jacob S. Sussmann (1795), Joachim Simonsohn (1797), Johann Z. Michaelis (1803), Eduard Heymann (1796), Johann Berger (1788). At least sixteen other Jewish men married the mothers of their out-of-wedlock children between 1806 and 1830.

268

Notes to pages 166-170

19. Of 33 in the sample, ten married within three months of conversion. In each case the sample includes only those whose marriage dates and baptismal dates are both known. 20. See Chapter 8, note 15. 21. One of the brothers converted in 1804; the other had a child who was converted in the same year. 22. CAHJP—P 17/464 p. 3. 23. Werner Mosse, The German-Jewish Economic Elite 1820-1935. A Socio-Cultural Profile (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), pp. 181, 183, 341-342. 24. If marriage alone could not acquire nobility for a Jewish man, ennoblement could. Several Berlin Jewish families were able to acquire titles of nobility after their conversion. Best known of these cases were the sons of the banker Martin Salomon Levy who became Barons Ferdinand and Louis Delmar in 1806 almost immediately upon conversion. Baron Ferdinand, a flamboyant and spendthrift character, also became a Berlin city councillor. Other ennobled Berlin Jews included Johann Leopold Michael Bresselau von Bressendorf (converted 1796, ennobled 1800) and Georg Moritz and Carl Daniel von Oppenfeld (originally Oppenheim, ennobled in the 1820s). 25. The motivations of marriage and career advantage have already been mentioned. One additional piece of evidence that the motivation for conversion was more frequently related to acculturation than to piety is found in the names taken by the converts as indicated earlier (see Chapter 11, p. 125). 26. Before her second conversion she had written: "I am attentively reading both testaments and find, according to my own feeling, Protestant Christianity indeed purer and to be preferred to the Catholic. For me the latter bears too much resemblance to the old Judaism which 1 very much abhor." On the death of her sister Recha she regrets that she died "alas, alas without being a child of the holy church" (Meyer, Origins, pp. 96, 97). 27. Henriette wrote in her testament: "I must blame myself if the Lord God has not vouchsafed unto me the Grace of drawing my family into the Catholic, genuinely saving Church. May the Lord Jesus Christ hear my prayer and enlighten them all with the light of his Grace. Amen." Philipp Veit, who was baptized while a teenager, had the following reaction to a discription of his grandfather Moses Mendelssohn's strong rejection of Lavater's call on him to convert: "Who knows what he must suffer because of this?" (Meyer, Origins, pp. 101, 204, note 37). 28. Varnhagen, Denkwiirdigkeiten, vol. 1, pp. 338, 344. Varnhagen describes Neander's conversion as follows: "dieser, ungeachtet alles Widerwillens gegen das Christentum, musste sich die Taufe gefallen lassen, zu der auch schon alles ohne sein Zutun eingeleitet war." The patron of Mendel's university studies and conversion was Dr. Stieglitz of Hannover who had himself converted in 1800 (Mendel converted in 1806). Stieglitz was married to Jente Ephraim, the daughter of Benjamin Ephraim and granddaughter of Veitel Heine Ephraim. Neander was a resident of Hamburg, not of Berlin, before his conversion. 29. Of the 55 orthodox in the Jacobson's pre-1813 marriage lists, there were 4 sets of fathers and sons and four sets of fathers-in-law and sons-in-law (that is one orthodox leader married to the daughter of another orthodox leader). In addition the mother-in-law of one of the orthodox later married another person on the orthodox list. There were six sets of brothers and four sets of brothers-in-law including one set married to two sisters. Among the 4 sets of uncles there was only one case of a brother of a father of other orthodox. In the other case the relationships were through female relatives. Similarly, most of the cousins were related at least to some extent through female lines (sons of two sisters, sons of a sister and brother, a son of one brother married to the daughter of another brother or sister).

Notes to pages 170-173

269

30. Among the members of the reformed congregation there were eleven sets of father and son and 15 sets of father and daughter (and son-in-law). There were at least 23 sets of brothers and 37 sets of brothers-in-law, of which 16 were married to two sisters each affiliated with the reform service. Among sets of cousins, and uncles and nephews, the female line also predominated over the male line. 31. Within the orthodox leadership there were six sets of brothers and four sets of brothers-in-law. On the other hand, there were only five orthodox leaders who had brothers among the reformers as against nineteen who had sisters and brothers-in-law among the reformers. This would seem to be an indication that daughters were less likely to follow the orthodox traditions of their parents than were sons. 32. Among the reformers of the year 1818 it was more common for sons to convert than for daughters (32 against 15). An even greater majority of males seems to be found among the converts whose parents were orthodox. 33. Jacob Katz, Out of the Ghetto, p. 236, note 11, quoting Wolff Davidson, Ein Wortchen iiber Juden. Veranlasst durch die von Herrn Friedldnder herausgegebene Aktenstticke (Berlin: 1792). Katz also quotes Ignaz Aurelius Fessler, a visitor to the home of the Ephraims and other wealthy Jews, who found: "The Jewess . . . to be highly cultured and excelling in the social graces while the men were still grappling with the first elements of secular education." 34. Furst, Henriette Herz, p. 18. See also Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 187-190, for a similar argument against the exaggerated contrasts made between boys' and girls' education, as well as against the assumption that girls' education was by nature superficial. 35. Jewish men do seem to have been excluded from all Berlin societies that were purely social (Resourcen) and therefore founded their own Resource der jiidischen Kaufmannschaft (later Resource von 1794). 36. The Chevras Noshim had been founded relatively recently (in the 1790s). One epitaph of a Berlin Jewish woman (Mirel, widow of Liebmann Alexander, who died in 1816) gives her the title "Gabbo'is deChevro Kadisho deNoshim" (Officer of the women's burial society)—the only reference to a woman holding a title of honor that I have found. 37. The somewhat less modernist Magine Re'im was another social and charitable organization with an exclusively male, unmarried membership. 38. CAHJP—K Ge 2/120. The Edel Rintel Stiftung, at least, had an exclusively male board of curators. 39. In a report to the government in 1812, David Friedlander listed 17 Jewish private schools in Berlin. Among these were three headed by women: the school of Bella and Juliane Lehndorff—40 female students; Demoiselle Blume Aron—14 students (7 Jewish); and Demoiselle Helfft—8 students. (Moritz Stern, "Gutachten und Briefe David Friedlanders," Zeitschrift fur die Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland 6 [1936], 117). In addition the address list of Berlin Jews of the same year lists the widow Valentin as another Schulhalterin. 40. Davidson, Biirgerliche Verbesserung, p. 82. Anti-Jewish writers spoke of the ostentation of Jewish women and girls as serving a useful purpose, since the women brought back to Christian society the money their husbands and fathers had wrung from it. In Euchel's play Reb Henoch, on the other hand, the Jewish husband makes money selling jewels to the Christian army officer who then uses them to seduce the former's wife. Ostentation was a subject of criticism of the non-Jewish population of Berlin as well as the Jewish population, but it was frequently used against the Jews. Wolff Davidson's defense of the Jews talks about how the accusations against the Jews had changed. Formerly their frugality had led to accusations that they undercut their competition by their

270

Notes to pages 174-175

simple way of life and consequent cheap living. Now it was their high living that was being criticized (Davidson, Biirgerliche Verbesserung, pp. 78-82). The contemporary complaint (1798) was that the Jews were "unmassig, verschwenderisch . . . und [haben] einen grossen Hang zu sinnlichen Vergniigungen und Aufwande." 41. In families with a General Privilege, the average age at marriage was twenty-seven for men and twenty-two for women, as against thirty-six for men and twenty-seven for women among the much less privileged Extraordinarii. 42. Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 193-194, 196-197. 43. Correlation Between Early Marriage Age for Women and Later Divorce or Conversion Later Divorced Yes

Age at Marriage

No

Yes

No

(4.7%)

184

12 (6.2%)

181

20 (4.7%)

408

14 (3.3%)

414

Before 21 21 +

Later Converted

9

Average Age at Marriage Male

Female

22 (N = 26)

Children later converted

26 (N = 36) 29 (N = 104)

No conversion in household

31 (N = 501)

25 (N = 500)

Later converted

23 (N = 88)

44. In the period 1770-1805 a total of 49 women converts (not counting newborns) were known to have been born outside Berlin and only six were definitely born in the city (the birthplaces of 40 are unknown). Of the known birthplaces of the women, 6 were from present day Bavaria and 13 from small central German principalities like Anhalt. Among male converts other than newborn there were only 21 known to have been born outside Berlin, 11 known to be native to the city, and 25 unknown. In the period 1820-1830, on the other hand, 179 male converts are known not to have been born in Berlin and only 65 are known natives with 91 uncertain (comparable figures for women were 60, 24, and 51). The places of origin of male converts included 35 from Silesia, 32 from the province of Posen, and 11 (or twelve) from Poland. 45. In at least one case, that of Felix Eberty the author of the memoirs Jugenderinnerungen eines alien Berliners, the motivation seems to have been rather unusual. We do not get any direct discussion of motivation by Eberty, who does not ever mention directly that his family was Jewish and who never even mentions his conversion. Still the memoirs give much indirect evidence. Eberty had a great deal of difficulty in school and eventually was forced to leave the Cauer Institute, where he was studying, because of a fight with a teacher. His parents had great difficulty finding a school for him, but finally settled on a school in Wittenberg. As it turns out, Eberty's conversion (at the rather unusual age for conversion of 14) took place only a few months before he left for Wittenberg. It is easy to imagine that his baptism might have been a precondition for his acceptance at the new school. 46. According to Hertz, Jewish High Society, pp. 240-241, the proportion of women who "intermarried" (i.e., are listed in the Judenkartei for Christian marriages of persons of Jewish origin) was 39 percent of the total number who converted, while the proportion for men was only 13 percent. 47. Women, too, are listed among the participants of the reform service. However, they held no formal positions within the reform group and did not help to lead prayers.

Notes to pages 175-178

111

Most of the women listed as participating in the reform service were wives or daughters of members. When it comes to those independent of another head of household, men far outnumber women among reform service participants. One hundred sixty-two unmarried male participants were listed as against a mere sixteen widows and twelve unmarried women (CAHJP—K Ge 2/83). A few elite women were prominent as donors to Enlightenment and reform causes—most notably the salonieres Sara Levy and Amalie Beer (mother of Giacomo Meyerbeer). Both of these women were staunch opponents of conversion. There were other connections between women and early religious reform as well. A few of the traditional restrictions on women's participation in the religious service were relaxed (a lowering of the physical barrier between the sexes; permission for women to sing in mixed choirs). Certain of the liturgical innovations of reform were also undertaken in part to appeal to female worshippers, among them the introduction of a vernacular sermon, greater attention to religious esthetics, and the use of the vernacular instead of Hebrew for some of the prayers. This latter innovation was considered to be especially appealing to women who were less likely to have studied Hebrew than men. Despite these numerous points in which religious reform may have been especially appealing to women, they do not change the fact that women played little role in the actual leadership of the movement for reform but only a role as an "appreciative audience." 48. Many of the early women converts were from outside Berlin. When these are excluded, the predominance of women over men in the baptisms before 1800 is greatly reduced. Of those over the age 13 who were baptized between 1770 and 1799, 69 were female and only 32 male. Thirty-six of the women and 14 of the men are listed as coming from a specifically named place outside of Berlin. The remaining baptized individuals were 33 females and 18 males. Of these only seven males and one female are known to have been born in Berlin. The rest are uncertain. It is likely that many more female converts than male ones before 1800 came from outside Berlin. 49. On the question of whether women were more or less likely to further assimilation than men (in a later period) see Marion Kaplan, "Tradition and Transition. The Acculturation, Assimilation and Integration of Jews in Imperial Germany. A Gender Analysis," Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute 27 (1982), 3-35.

Chapter 15 1. Heymann, Lebenserinnerungen, pp. 239-251. 2. The orthodox rabbis Oettinger and Rosenstein signed the document, dated December 3, 1829, which stated that the "Anstalt Eretz Israel" would no longer be one of the seven charities to divide the moneys collected at funerals. (The other charities were: Talmud Torah, Malbish Arumim [clothes for poor], Gemilut Chasadim [burial society], Hachnasat Kalla [dowries], Bikur Cholim [care of the sick], and Ner Tamid [Eternal light.]) Instead, the one-seventh share would now go to the "Armen Anstalt Haspakat Ebionim." The collections in the synagogue for the land of Israel would now also become collections for the poor relief institute. The money already collected for Israel as well as any future money expressly donated for that purpose would still go exclusively for the poor in Palestine. It would seem that the justification for the change was the fact that the money could not be sent to Palestine (perhaps because of the war of Greek independence against Turkey). However, when similar circumstances had occurred in the eighteenth century, the

272

Notes to pages 178-181

community did not resort to "demoting" the charity for the land of Israel. In 1750 when it was impossible to send the money from the Eretz Israel fund for a lengthy period, it was decided that the communal treasury would borrow the 351 Reichstaler in the Eretz Israel fund. As soon as collectors from Palestine would come the loan would be returned. Between 1774 and 1785 the communal records list 16 visits by yerushalmim to Berlin and the donation of various sums (some large, many small) to these collectors. It seems clear that the reason for the change in 1829 was not merely convenience but a loss of belief in the value of donations to Palestine and in the Messianic promises of return to the Holy Land (Jacobson collection I 49, pp. 112a, 113; Plnkas, pp. 153-54, 412413). 3. Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 1, p. 164. 4. Michael A. Meyer, "Ganz nach dem alien Herkommen? The Spiritual Life of Berlin Jewry Following the Edict of 1823," in Marianne Awerbuch and Stefi Jersch-Wenzel, Bild und Selbstbild der Juden Berlins zwischen Aufkldrung und Romantik (Berlin: Colloquium Verlag, 1992), pp. 234, 238 note 30, 241. 5. Heymann, Lebenserinnerungen; Meyer, "Ganz nach dem alien Herkommen?" pp. 241. 6. Meyer, "Ganz nach dem alten Herkommen?" pp. 236-238. 7. Among the persons consulted by the community were Lazarus Bendavid, Isaac Auerbach, David Friedlander, and Leopold Zunz (Meyer, "Ganz nach dem alten Herkommen?" p. 232). 8. Meyer, "Ganz nach dem alten Herkommen?" pp. 232-236. 9. Meyer, "Ganz nach dem alten Herkommen?" p. 236. 10. Meyer, "Ganz nach dem alten Herkommen?" p. 239-240. 11. Meyer mentions among the two dozen attendees, both the traditionalist Salomon Plessner and the converted Eduard Cans. 12. See Chapter 11, p. 126. Menes found that only 9 of 43 Jews who were baptized in Berlin in 1836 were natives of the city. 13. According to Menes the total number of conversions in Brandenburg province (whose chief city was Berlin) was as follows: Absolute Number

Number Per Year

1812-21

323

32.3

1822-31

441

44.1

1832-41 1842-16

442

44.2

228

45.6

Menes demonstrates that the wave of conversions was restricted mainly to Berlin, Kb'nigsberg and Breslau. Although only 6.5 percent of Prussian Jews lived in Brandenburg, 42 percent of the converts of 1812 to 1821 lived there (Menes, "Conversion Movement," pp. 192, 194, 195). 14. Without a detailed look at the data upon which Menes and Hertz based their figures it is impossible to tell why Hertz finds a decline after 1835 while Menes finds only a plateau. 15. See Herbert Seeliger, "Origin and Growth of the Berlin Jewish Community," Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 3 (1958), pp. 162-163; H.G. Sellenthin, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin und des Gebdudes Fasanenstrasse 79/80 (Berlin: Jiidische Gemeinde,1959), p. 101; Geiger, Geschichte der Juden in Berlin, vol. 2, p. 245. Combining the figures given by these three authors we come up with the following statistics on Berlin Jewish population growth:

Notes to page 181

273

5,645 3,842 1837 6,028 3,386 1839 1840 6,456 3,379 3,322 8,351 1843 8,243 3,292 1846 9,595 2,827 1849 3,373 1850 9,446 11,840 1852 3,699 12,675 3,610 1855 3,795 1858 15,491 18,953 4,079 1861 4,959 16. Acquiring citizenship in Berlin did not come any fixed number of years after migrating to the city. Not all Berlin Jews were eligible for or required to take citizenship. Generally building owners and independent businessmen (and more rarely independent businesswomen) became citizens. Berlin-born children of Berlin citizens were also inscribed as new citizens in adulthood, but not at any particular age. Despite the fact that the connection between the number of citizens inscribed per year and that of the total number of Berlin Jews is not related in a systematic way, it does seem to give some indication of the order of magnitude of growth. 17. The actual figures based on the Judenburgerbiicher by Jacobson are as follows: 40 1809 288 1830 40 1810 1831 — 16 70 1811 1832 62 26 1812 1833 66 1813 30 1834 58 1814 71 1835 71 121 1836 1815 70 42 1837 1816 73 1817 46 1838 83 42 1818 1839 103 27 1840 1819 126 1820 48 1841 97 35 1821 1842 120 1822 28 1843 113 1823 58 1844 1824 127 39 1845 133 49 1825 1846 132 1826 40 1847 101 1827 51 1848 38 108 1828 1849 1829 65 151 1850 The figures on new citizens in Berlin seem to give a better idea of the growth of the Jewish population than do raw figures for Jewish births. Perhaps this is because many of the 1770 1780 1790 1800 1811 1813 1816 1817 1819 1822 1825 1831

274

Notes to pages 182-189

new migrants to the city were unmarried. In any case the total number of Jewish births annually in Berlin hovered between 60 and 90 for the entire period from 1813 to 1838 with the exception of the years of high births in 1817, 1819, and 1821 with 91, 94, and 94, respectively, and of low births in 1830, 1833, and 1834 with 55, 59, and 59. The number of births climbed sharply in the years 1839 and 1840 to 104 and 189, respectively (based on Jacobson collection I 42-43 in Leo Baeck Institute). 18. Based on the Judenburgerbucher we have the following figures for birthplaces of new citizens: Birthplace

1825

1830

1835

1845

Berlin

14

9

7

13

Brandenburg

12

8

9

19

4

1

2

Pomerania Subtotal

30 (61%)

18 (45%)

4

18 (31%)

36 (29%) 34

Posen

4

3

14

West Prussia

4

6

9

8 (16%)

9 (22%)

23 (40%)

52 (42%)

Silesia

5 (10%)

7 (18%)

14 (24%)

22 (18%)

All Others

6 (12%)

6 (15%)

3 ( 5%)

15 (12%)

Subtotal

Total

49

40

58

18

125

19. This figure is based on the fact that the Jewish population in 1850 was over three times what the Jewish population had been in 1817. The number of descendants of the pre1812 population is actually much smaller than one-third, because some of the original population (perhaps as many as 10 percent) converted to Christianity. Of new Jewish citizens listed in the Judenburgerbucher in the 1840s, only about 10 percent were born in Berlin, and even some of those were the children of parents who had arrived after 1812. 20. There were a few prominent Berlin Jews of the mid and late nineteenth century who did have family ties to the old pre-1812 elite (or at least to Jews who had lived in Berlin before 1812). Among these were Moritz Veil, head of the Jewish community in the middle of the century (son of Philipp Veil and nephew of Brendel Mendelssohn's husband Simon Veil); Gerson Bleichroder, whose grandfather had come to Berlin in the eighteenth century; and Alexander Mendelssohn, the philosopher's grandson and last Jewish member of the family. There were, however, no Itzigs, Ephraims, or Fliesses in communal leadership. 21. Among the leaders of the Reformgenossenschaft (reform society), which eventually became the Reformgemeinde (reform community), were Aron Bernstein of Danzig and Sigismund Stern of Karge in Posen. The first rabbi of the congregation, Samuel Holdheim, also came from the province of Posen. On the conversion of the descendants of the eighteenth century elite, see Chapter 13, note 6.

Conclusion 1. See Chapter 13, note 23. 2. Several cases can be mentioned in which the tolerance of supporters of the Enlightenment of their children's failure to follow in their footsteps is evident. One involves Moses Mendelssohn who seems not to have prevented his oldest son from discontinuing his Jew-

Notes to pages 189-192

275

ish studies despite the elder Mendelssohn's obvious belief in their importance. In the same family one can mention the famous letter of Abraham Mendelssohn on the confirmation of his daughter and the tolerant letter of Simon Veil to his converted son (see Katz, Out of the Ghetto, p. 113; Meyer, Origins, p. 88). 3. One can see this attitude clearly in Wolff Davidson's Btirgerliche Verbesserung. Every contribution of Jews to Berlin culture, even the most trivial, is recounted as a noteworthy and unusual event. Davidson not only recounts the considerable number of Jewish authors, the eight physicians, the Jews who had translated works from Hebrew or written textbooks of Polish and Italian. He also mentions every Jewish painter or sculptor, a Mechanicus (mechanic), an architect, and some composers, as well as a gardener and an inspector of mines (Hutteninspektor). Besides the professional artists in the community he finds it worthy of notice that one Jewish woman's embroidery resembles painting, that several Jewish women are talented amateur pianists or singers, and that Jews participated in the singing of "The Death of Jesus" at a performance in the Fasch singing academy.

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Bibliography

Archival and Manuscript Sources

Leo Baeck Institute, New York (LBI): Jacob Adam memoirs (Memoir #2 /M.E. 317 in Leo Baeck Institute). Itzig Family Collection (AR 114, no. 2)—autograph album of Rebecca Itzig. Jacob Jacobson Collection: I 20/21—copies of Jewish epitaphs by Leiser Landshuth; I 37— Quartierliste 1744; I 39—Pinkas dechabura Kadisha Gomlei Chasadim Vekabranim umevaker Cholim 1676-1813; I 42/43—Jewish births 1812-1840; I 49 eighteenth century Berlin communal record book, including births, marriages, and deaths 17541813; I 50—A/re Familienliste; I 61—list of divorced Jews 1813-1847; I 80—list of family members included in Itzig naturalization 1802; I 82—typed copy of list of all Jews in Berlin 1812; I 91 —minute book of the Gesellschaft der Freunde 17921793. Bunette Oppenheim—autograph album (AR 1952). Organisationen, Ressource von 1794—membership lists 1814-1823. Valentin Collection (AR 3820) I 9—Autobiography of Samuel Lippmann Loewen.

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Wolf, Albert, Das jiidische Berlin gegen Ende des 18. Jahrhunderts in Abbildungen und Medaillen, reprint from Gedenkbuch zur Erinnerung an David Kaufmann. Berlin: 1900. [Wolff, Sabattja Joseph], Freymuthige Gedanken iiber die vorgeschlagene Verbesserung der Juden in den Preussischen Staaten. Halle: J. J. Gebaser, 1792. Wolfsohn, Aron Halle,"Leichtsinn und Frommelei" In Fun Mendelson biz Mendele. Hantbukhfar der Geshikhte fun der Haskole-Literatur mil Reproduktsyes un Bilder, edited by Zalmen Reisen. Warsaw: Farlag Kultur-Lige, 1923, pp. 37-68. Zinberg, Israel, A History of Jewish Literature, vol. 8. Translated and edited by Bernard Martion. Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, and New York: KTAV, 1976.

Index

Aaron, Rabbi Moses of Leipnik, 201 n 27, 202 n32 Abel, Joachim Hirsch, 66, 220 n 36, 220-21 n 41 [later called Joachim Hirsch Fromm] Academy, Prussian royal, 20, 22 Adam, Jacob, 65, 220 n 36 Adath Jisroel (separatist Orthodox congregation), 177 Address lists, 7, 59, 87, 228 n 37-38, 251 n 41 Adultery: 115, 241 n 21; definition of, in Jewish law, 165 Aftermath of crisis, 177-82 Age distribution: at marriage, 173-74, 236 n 16, 270 n41, 270 n43; of converts, 121, 122, 165-66, 244 n 10, 248 n 31, 261 n 3, 263 n 14, 267 n 14-16; and dietary laws, 143, 259 n 45, 260 n 47; of parents of illegitimate children, 115, 242 n 22; Orthodox compared to Reformers, 143, 257-58 n 40^3 Agriculture, opening of, to Jews, 77, 78, 222 n7 Aktenstiicke die Reform der jiidischen Kolonien in den Preussischen Staaten betreffend, 82 Alexander, Liepmann and family, 239 n 5, 250 n 39, 269 n 34 Alleys: 142, 228 n 37; in 1744, 18, 87, 202 n 38; and poor, 58, 216 n 13 Alsace, 222 n 1 Alt Berlin. See Residence patterns Altenstein (Prussian minister of religion), 139 Alternative, lack of, as explanation of crisis, 192-94 Altmann, Alexander, 37, 41 Alt Orthodoxie (old Orthodoxy), 179, 195 Altona. See Hamburg-Altona Amsterdam, 37, 100, 207 n 2

Anti-Jewish feeling: 6, 48, 84, 109-10, 268 n 26-27; pamphlets, 77, 83, 109; and salons, 109-10, 236 n 24-26, 237 n 28 Argens, Marquis d', 20, 22, 203 n 53 Army service: and legal emancipation, 76, 78, 79, 80, 82, 85, 225 n 18; exclusion from higher ranks of, 126, 249 n 34; Jewish hesitations about, 80, 86, 227 n 34 Army supply, 89, 90, 91 Arnim, Achim von, 108, 110, 236 n 25 Arnim, Bettina von (nee Brentano), 110, 236 n25 Arnstein, Fanny von, 92, 106, 261 n 6 Arnstein, Joseph Adam von, 246-47 n 22 Aron, Israel, 198 n 2 Arranged marriages, and conversion, 173-74 Art collections, 27, 28, 32, 49 Ascher, Saul: 35, 207 n 5; works by, 83, 99, 208 n 13 Assembly of Jewish representatives (1792-93), 79-80, 82 Assimilation: as general problem in modern Jewish life, 195-96; relationship to ideological liberalism, 161, 188-95 Assistant elders. See Tovim and Ikkurim Assistant rabbis. See Dayanim Aub, Rabbi Joseph, 180 Auction of synagogue honors, 179 Auditors, communal (Ro'ei Cheshbonof), 14 Auerbach, Baruch, 179 Auerbach, Isaac Levin, 260 n 48 Austria and Emancipation, 222 n 1 Authors, Christian, occupations of, 35 Bachurim See Yeshivas, students at Baden, and Emancipation, 222 n 1

Index Badge, Jewish, 13, 44 Bankers: 30, 35, 59, 217 n 18; and conversion, 124, 126, 128, 250 n 40; and Orthodoxy, 142, 220 n 37, 256 n 34; and religious reform, 142, 256 n 31; and salons, 107; rise of, 89, 90, 91, 229 n 2 Bankruptcy, 72, 92-93, 94, 229 n 1 Baptism. See Conversion Barrett [Jewish headdress], 44, 45 Bartholdi Meierei (Itzig family garden), 28 Bartholdy Family, 247 n 26, 261 n 6 Bartzwicker. See Zwicker Barzilay, Isaac Eisenstein, 96, 231 n 26 Bavaria, 119, 244 n 34, 248 n 32, 270 n 44 Beadle. See Shamash Beards, wearing of, 21, 45-46, 65, 79, 203 n 51, 210 n 13-14 Beer, Amalie (Malka): 91, 270-71 n47; salon of, 106, 107, 235 n 13 Beer, Cerf (of Strasbourg), 234 n 50 Beer, Jacob Herz, 91, 107, 137, 229 n 6, 252 n 1, 260 n 49 Beer, Michael, 107 Beer family, 236 n 17 Beer-Jacobson Temple: 6, 91, 107, 137, 138, 147, 254 n 12, 255 n 16; description of service at, 138; former employees of, 178, 179; membership list of, 8, 140-41; prohibition of, 6, 134, 137, 138, 144, 177; ritual observance of adherents, 143, 160, 258-59 n 44, 264 n 24 Beer mansion, 138 Beggars, 58, 62 Bendavid, Lazarus: 35, 38, 41, 207 n 5; conflict with traditionalists, 63, 100, 218 n 25; education of, 51, 214 n 50-51; Enlightenment and, 143, 147, 234 n 51; and Judische Freischule, 207 n 9; lectures by, 49; and Wissenschaft des Judentums, 145, 146; works by, 82-83, 99, 208 n 13 Bendemann, August Heinrich, 86, 135, 252 n 1, 254 n 14, 260 n 49 Bendemann family, 132, 263 n 17 Bendix family, 32, 90, 91, 206 n 31, 220 n 40, 226 n 32, 250 n 39. See also Bernsdorff; Bendemann family Berlinische Monatschrift, 20 Berlin: as administrative center, 19; German dialect of, 48, 212 n 36; intellectual life in, 19-20; lack of entrenched establishment, 4, 19; migrants to, 4, 19; population growth, 4, 11-12, 19; social life in, 19-20 Berlin Jewish community: 85; before modernization, 10-22; change in composition after 1820s, 182; comparison to other communities, 3, 15, 195-96; decline of intellectual importance after 1823, 177; dissension in, 16, 202 n 32; founding of, 3-4, 10, 11; as pioneer of modernization, 185; representatives of, 137; smaUness of, 3, 7; traditional religious practice in, 15-16; wealth of, 55

285

Berlin, Nachman, 101, 234 n 47 Berlin, Saul, 40, 99, 208 n 13-14, 232 n 34, 260 n 46 Bernhard, Fanny (Vogelchen), 93, 130, 217 n 15 Bernhard family, 90, 93, 229 n 3, 246-47 n 22, 247 n 26 Bernsdorff, Samuel Nathan: 220 n 35, 260 n 49; as a communal elder, 206 n 31, 252 n 1; and religious reform, 153, 254 n 5, 260 n 49 Bernstein, Aron, 274 n 21 Besamim Rosh (by Saul Berlin): 99, 208 n 1314; subscribers to, 40, 260 n 46 Beschiitz family, 154 Beth Hamidrash (Talmud study house): 52, 179, 200 n 17; founding of, 14, 15; board members of, 32, 63, 218 n 27, 220 n 35; board members of, conversion in families of, 158, 264 n 22; board members of, income distribution of, 158, 221 n 42, 264 n 21; Moses Mendelssohn as board member of, 63 Bible, study of, 50, 51-52, 171-72 Bible translation. See Mendelssohn, Moses; Luther, Martin Biedermeier period, 119 Bikur Cholim. See Hospice, Jewish Bing, Dr. Abraham Herz, 220 n40, 239-40 n 8 Bi'ur, 97. See also Mendelssohn, Moses, Bible translation Bleichroder, Gerson, and ancestors, 21, 203 n 51, 274 n 20 Bloch, Dr. Marcus Elieser, 22, 36, 38, 49, 207 n 2, 207 n 8 Bohemian colony in Berlin, 11, 19, 203 n45 Bonnet, Charles, 37 Bookkeepers: 50, 59, 228 n 38; Haskala intellectuals as, 35, 39; and illegitimacy, 115, 128, 250-51 n 40; and religious reform, 256 n 33 Bookkeeping, 47, 52 Borne, Ludwig, 236 n 17 Boye, Baron von, 130 Brandenburg, electorate of, 19; admission of Jews to, 11 Brandenburg, Prussian province of: converts in, 180-81, 272 n 13; migrants from, 181, 248 n 32, 274 n 18 Brentano, Clemens, 108, 110 Breslau, 85, 100, 137, 207 n 9, 272 n 13 Bressendorf, Johann Leopold Michael Bresselau von (originally Loeb Bresselau), 239 n 7, 24647 n 22, 268 n 24 Brinckmann, Carl Gustav von, 105 Brokers, 29, 62, 217 n 17, 256 n 33 Bruderverein (organization), 64, 172 Bmnschwig, Henri, 69 Budget, communal: 14, 94, 200 n 21, 247 n 28; conversion as drain on, 124 Bureaucracy, Prussian, 12, 19 Burgstrasse: 59, 142, 228 n 37, 257 n 36, 257 n 39; Itzig mansion on, 27, 217 n 15, 254 n 12

286

Index

Burial, early, controversy about, 36, 98 Burial society: 14, 64; conversion among descendants of members of, 157, 158, 189, 263 n 18, 264 n 22-23; ideology of descendants of members of, 156, 262 n 9; new burial society to replace the old, 178; members as subscribers to Mendelssohn Bible translation, 63, 218 n26, 260 n46; income levels of membership of, 66, 221 n 42, 264 n 21, 264 n 23. See also Orthodoxy Cantors, 14, 56, 178, 179 Cassel, Wilhelm, 252 n 50, 263 n 17 Catholicism, conversion to, 122, 170, 268 n 2627 Cauer Institute, 130-31, 270 n45 Cemetery, 14, 178, 179 Ceremonial law: See Ritual, Jewish; Dietary laws; Sabbath Chain conversion, 153 Chamisso, Adalbert von, 108 Charity: recipients of, 58, 216 n 12-13; institutions, 64-65, 271-72 n 2 Charity wardens (Gabba'ei Tzedaka): 14; conversion in families of, 158, 264 n 22; income distribution of, 158, 221 n 42, 264 n 20-21 Charlottenburg, 49, 130 Cheder (traditional Jewish school), 50, 52 Chevra Kadisha. See Burial society Chevras Noshim (women's association), 172, 269 n 34 • Chief rabbi (Oberlandesrabbiner), lapsing of office of, 66, 135, 178 Chikkur Hadin (by Hartwig Wessely), 101, 231 n 28, 234 n 50 Chodowiecki, Daniel Nicolaus, 46, 53, 62, 100 Chodziesen (Posen district), 64 Choir: boys, 136; male, 138, 179, 255 n 18; mixed, 137, 254 n 11, 270-71 n47; school, 179 Christian art (owned by Jews), 27 Christlich-teutsche Tischgesellschaft, 110, 236 n 26 Christmas, 130 Circumcisions, organization for subsidizing, 64, 220 n 35 Citizenship: Berlin local, 86, 181, 272-73 n 17; Prussian, 85, 139 Cloth and clothing dealing, 18, 203 n 41 Clubs, social: 20, 50, 64, 172-73, 269 n 33; exclusively male, 110, 172-73, 269 n 35 Coffeehouse, learned, 20 Cohen, Ernst (Ephraim): bankruptcy of, 93, 107, 130; conversion of, 93, 107, 124, 263 n 17 Cohen, Jeremias, 21, 203 n 51 Cohen, Philippine, 124, 217 n 15; and salons, 106, 107, 235 n 13 Cohen, Rabbi Raphael, 99, 232 n 33-34

Cohen family, 124, 130, 243 n 30, 252 n46 Coin debasement, 26, 204 n 1 Coin millionaires: 4-5, 25-27; as communal leaders, 30-31; and conversion, 182; fall of, 89, 91-94; mansions of, 27-28. See also Ephraim, Veitel Heine; Isaac-Fliess, Moses; Itzig, Daniel Collective biography: methodology of, 7-9, 151-52, 188-89 Collective responsibility, for taxes, thefts, and bankruptcies, 13, 78, 79, 83, 222 n 7, 223 n i l , 225 n 22 Commercial employees (Knechte; Handlungsdiener), 35, 50, 87, 128, 216 n 13, 250-51 n 40; numbers of, 18, 56, 228 n 38; and religious reform, 142, 256 n 32 Communal employees, 14, 18 Confirmation ceremony, 138, 179, 254 n 16 Conservatism, political, \ 39 Conspicuous consumption, 173, 175, 187, 269 n 38. See also Art collections; Mansions Conversion: 72, 104, 112, 120-33, 134, 147, 151, 180; and acculturation, 125, 189-94; of adults, 114, 123, 165-66; arranged marriages and, 173-74; and career advancement, 126, 166, 174-75, 180; to Catholicism, 122, 170, 268 n 26-27; disinheritance for, 129-30; divorce and, 112-13, 123, 132, 167, 239 n 7; as drain on communal finances, 124, 226 n 29; and the elite, 72, 123, 124-25, 126, 129, 132, 153, 157, 166, 167, 168, 182, 230 n 22, 246 n 21, 247 n 26, 249-50 n 37; and Emancipation law, 124, 125, 188, 247 n 28; end of crisis of, 177, 180-81, 182, 272 n 1314; of families, 124-25, 153, 155, 159, 167, 261-62 n 3-7, 263 n 15, 265 n 25, 265-66 n 27-29; Friedlander petition against, 124, 226 n 29, 244 n 2, 247 n 26; hesitation in, 167-68; ideological affiliation and, 156-60, 189-94, 262-65 n 11-24; and illegitimacy, 6, 114-16, 119, 121, 123, 125, 128, 132, 166-67, 241 n 16, 242 n 23-24, 246 n 18, 250-51 n 40, 266-67 n 8-14, 267 n 17-18; of infants, 11416, 121, 123, 124, 267 n 14; of legitimate children, 124, 261 n 3, 265 n 25, 266-67 n 12, 267 n 14; and early marriage, 174, 270 n43; and marriage to Christians, 107, 123, 166-67, 168, 252 n 53, 268 n 19, 270 n 46; of married persons, 123, 124; of migrants, 121, 122, 125, 166, 175, 180, 245 n 14, 248 n 32, 249 n 34, 271 n 48; migrants as proportion of all converts, 125, 126, 246 n 20, 247-48 n 30, 270 n44, 272 n 12; migrants: social differences from native Berlin converts, 123— 24, 126, 128, 132, 250 n 40; motives for, 126, 166-67, 168-70, 192-93, 270 n45; multiple conversions, 126, 249 n35; occupations of converts, 36, 126, 128-29, 250-51 n 40; outside of Berlin, by Berlin Jews, 122, 123, 167, 246 n 16, 246 n 21; parental attitudes toward, 160-61; as precondition for

Index

287

intermarriage, 166-67, 268 n 19; Dealers (Handelsleute): 59, 217 n 17-18, 228 and prenuptial conceptions, 113; records of, 7, n 38; and conversion, 128, 250-51 n 40; and 121-22. See also Judenkartei; residence illegitimacy, 115, 128; and Orthodoxy, 142, patterns and, 129, 251 n 41; and salons, 106256 n 34; compared to merchants (Kaufleute), 1, 108, 109, 111, 236 n 16; secret, 124, 130; 6262, 128, 198 n 7, 217 n 18 sincerity of, 125, 168-70, 268 n 26-28; of Death of parents, waiting for, before conversion, teenagers, 165. See also Teller, Dean Wilhelm 160-61, 168, 170, 265-66 n 27-29 Abraham, letter to Decorum in synagogue service: 136, 178, 179 Conversion, statistics on: 114-16, 120-23, 124, Deism, 20, 96, 231 n 26 125, 127, 180-81; age at conversion, 121, De Lemos, Benjamin. See Lemos, Benjamin de 122, 165, 166, 244 n 10, 248 n 31, 261 n 3, Delmar, Ferdinand, Moritz, Freiherr von, 91, 229 263 n 14, 267 n 14-16; class distribution, 121, n 8, 268 n 24 123, 126-28, 157-58, 249-50 n 37, 264 n 23; Delmar, Louis, 91, 263 n 17, 268 n 24 cohorts (birthdates), 122, 245 n 11-14; gender Delmar family: and conversion, 90, 91, 125, 247 distribution, 121, 123, 126, 164, 165-70, 174- n 2 n 26 75, 244 n 6, 246 n 19-20, 248 n 31-32, 266Dessau, 181, 207 n 2 67 n 12, 267 n 14-18, 269 n 32, 270 n 44, 271 Dialect, Jewish. See Yiddish n48; and legal status, 127, 250 n38; overall Dienstmagd. See Maid servants numbers, 120-22, 272 n 13; percentage of Dietary laws: abandonment of, 5, 53, 100, 105, overall Jewish population converting, 121-22, 133, 178, 192, 220 n 36, 233 n 41, 235 n 4, 132, 188, 245 n 11, 245 n 13; rate of increase 265 n 26; and army service, 76, 86; and of, 123, 246 n 17 conversion, 160, 189, 264 n 24; and income, Conversion, waves of: 122-26, 132, 267 n 16; 258-59 n 44; and legal Emancipation, 71, 76; first wave (1770-1805), 123-24, 164, 165-66, and socialization with Christians, 50, 189, 235 174; second wave (1800—20), 124-26, 166; n 4; generational differences in observance of, 14143, 259 n 45, 260 n 47; "Glatt kosher," 15, third wave (1822-30), 126, 167, 175, 177, 180, 188 200 n 25; number of observers of, 54, 100, Converted Jews: as a social group, 129-32, 252 233 n 44-45; and members of Reform temple, n 46-51; anti-Jewish feelings of, 170, 268 143, 160, 258-59 n 44, 260 n 49, 264 n 24; n 26—27; marriage into non-Jewish families and residence patterns, 258-59 n44; tax list, by, 131-32, 252 n 52-53; marriage with other 7, 100, 143, 233 n 44-45, 258-59 n 44, 260 former Jews by, 131-32; at salons, 108; social n 49 relations with the unbaptized, 130-31, 252 Dining: with family, 130; with non-Jews, 50, n 46-51, 274-75 n 1 105, 235 n 3-^ Copenhagen, 35, 207 n 2 Diplomats, 105, 106, 108, 236 n 20 Costume, Jewish: 44^6, 186, 192, 209-11 Disinheritance and conversion, 129-30 n 1-18; changes in, 44^6; Jewish badge, 13, Divorce: 72, 111, 112-13, 237-39 n 2-7; 44 comparative rates of, 238 n 3; and conversion, Cotton industry, 19, 21, 29, 90 112-13, 123, 132, 167, 239 n 7; and early Crafts, Jews in: 62, 87; opening of, to, 77, 78, marriage, 174, 270 n43; income patterns and, 222 n7-8, 224 n 11; prohibition on, 13 112, 238-39 n4-5; numbers of, 112, 237-38 Craftsmen, Christian, and extramarital n 2; and salons, 107, 111, 236 n 16 affairs, 115, 128, 250-51 n 40, 252 n 53, Divre Shalom Ve'emet (by Hartwig Wessely), 38, 266 n 11 97, 99, 207 n 33 Craftsmen, Jewish: and conversion, 128; and Doctors, medical: 35, 36, 87, 93, 207 n 8, 220 illegitimacy, 117 n40; and conversion, 36, 207 n 8, 250-51 Crayen, Henriette von, 107 n40; and early burial, 36; and Haskala, 36; and Crisis, economic, 72, 89-90, 91-94, 229 n 1 illegitimacy, 115; and religious reform, 142, Crisis of Berlin Jewry: causes of. 189-94; 256 n 33; as communal employees, 14, 56 waning of, 7, 177, 180-82, 191, 193 Dohm, Christian Wilhelm von: and Cultur Verein, 180 Emancipation of the Jews, 41, 75-76, 82, 83; Curriculum of Jewish schools, 52 and salons, 108 Dohna, Count Alexander, 108 Dacheroden, Caroline von, 109 Dowry: 173; subsidies, organization for, 64, 172 Dancing, 50, 52, 171, 178 Dubno, Salomon: 34, 37, 209 n25; and Dann, Betty Leffmann, and Isaac, 168, 169 Mendelssohn Bible translation, 34, 214 n 63 D'Argens, Marquis. See Argens, Marquis d' David, Hirsch (Prager), 32, 35, 205 n 24, 206 Eastern Europe, and Haskala, 34, 207 n 1 n 30 Eastern provinces of Prussia, migrants from, 126, Davidson, Wolff, 35, 100, 101, 105, 113-14, 18 180, 181-82, 194, 248 n 32, 270 n 44, 274 173, 207 n 8, 269 n 38 n 18

288

Index

East Prussia, 181. See also Konigsberg Ebers, Victor, 91, 229-30 n 13, 230-31 n 24, 250 n 39, 262 n i l Ebers family, 125, 226 n 32 Eberty, Felix: 48, 49, 92, 130; conversion of, 130, 252 n 48, 270 n 45 Eberty, Hermann, 92, 131, 266 n 5 Eberty family, 130-31, 226 n 32, 239-40 n 8, 252 n 47-48 Economic activity, government restrictions on, 11, 12-13, 76, 78-79, 199 n 14, 205 n 18 Economic structure. See Income levels; Occupations Edeling family, 226 n 32, 252 n 46, 262 n 11 Education: 36, 50-53, 179-80, 186; gender

differences in, 171-72, 266 n 6, 270 n 40; about Judaism, 50-52, 171-72, 252-53 n 3; informal, 47-48, 51-52, 213-14 n 49-51; formal, 50-51, 52-53, 179-80, 213 n48; proposals for reform of, 37-38, 52, 222 n 7 See also Cheder; Divre Shalom Ve'emet; Freischule, Jiidische; Talmud Torah Eger, Meyer of Glogau, 80, 99, 224 n 13 Eibeschiitz, Rabbi Jonathan, of Altona, 15, 19798 n 6 Elders of the Jewish community (parnassim): 14, 91, 94, 177, 230 n 22, 252 n 1; conversion of relatives of, 127-28, 247 n 26, 250 n 39; method of election of, 14, 30-31, 62, 135, 205 n 23, 206 n 25-26, 206 n 28; and Orthodoxy, 63, 135-36, 252-53 n 3; social recruitment of, 31-32, 206 n 25-27; support for religious reform by, 67, 135, 137-39; turnover in, 3031, 205 n 22, 205-6 n 24 Elite, economic: disputes within, 16; and conversion, 72, 123, 124-25, 126-29, 132, 153, 157-58, 166, 167, 168, 182, 246 n 21, 247 n 26, 249-50 n 37-39; and divorce, 112, 238-39 n 4-5; gap between, and bulk of Jews, 42, 81-82, 225 n 21; and lifestyle changes, 45, 27-28, 49-50, 186, 204 n 5, 204 n 8, 213 n 41; and prenuptial conceptions, 113, 239-^10 n 8; and reformed temple, 141-42, 256 n 2931, 258 n43; as subscribers to Haskala works, 39, 40, 66, 208 n 18-21; and campaign for Emancipation, 76-77, 80-82, 224 n 12, 225 n 21; intellectual affiliation within, 175; relationship to Haskala intellectuals of, 33-34, 38-42, 207 n 33, 209 n 29; relative size of, 57, 215 n 6 Elite, economic, changes in makeup of: rise of coin millionaires, 25—32, 204 n 3; fall of coin millionaires, 89-95; changes after 1820s, 182, 274 n 20-21 Elite women, 107, 110, 166, 270-71 n47 Emancipation, legal. See also Dohm, Christian Wilhelm von; 222 n 1; campaign for, 5, 70, 75-85, 191, 225 n 21; Jewish hesitations about, 80, 222-24 n 11, 227 n 34; Law of 1812, 70, 77, 85-86, 134, 181; Law of 1812 and conversion, 125, 188, 247 n 28; Law of

1812 and reform Judaism, 134, 135, 136; "price of," 70-71, 76, 85-87, 222 n 7, 226 n 31, 231 n 27; radicalizing nature of, 70-71, 75-86, 99, 231 n 25; restrictions on, 139, 140, 226 n 26, 226 n 30; restrictions on, and conversion, 126, 175, 249 n 34; theoretical basis of, 75-77 Emden, Rabbi Jacob, of Altona, 15, 98 Emunot Ve-De'ot (by Sa'adia Gaon): 97; subscribers to, 40, 260 n 46 English language, 51 Enlightenment, "false," 71-72, 101, 103, 109, 187, 234 n 49 Enlightenment, French, and French Revolution, 187

Enlightenment, German: persistence of Jews in adhering to, 103; Berlin as center of, 4, 20; challenge of Romanticism to, 71, 102-3 Enlightenment, half. See Enlightenment, "false" Enlightenment, Jewish. See Haskala Enlightenment, Prussian crisis of, 69, 72-73, 102 Enlightenment literature, general, 51 En Mishpat (by Nachman Berlin), 101, 234 n 47 Ennoblement, of Jews, 91, 123, 246-47 n 22, 268 n 24 Ephraim, Benjamin Veitel: 224 n 12; art collection of, 49, 204 n 8; bankruptcy of, 9; conversion in family of, 247 n 26; education of, 51, 213 n 49; Moses Mendelssohn and, 209 n 23 Ephraim, David. See Schmidt, Johann Andreas Ephraim, Ephraim Marcus, 46 Ephraim, Ephraim Veitel, 31, 235 n 3, 250 n 39 Ephraim, Heimann Veitel, 250 n 39 Ephraim, Joachim, 262 n 12 Ephraim, Joseph Veitel, 31, 39, 218 n 31 Ephraim, Rebecca (nee Itzig), 49, 235 n 12, 236 n 16, 239 n 6 Ephraim, Rosche (ne'e Samson), 218-19 n 31 Ephraim, Veitel Heine: 26, 36, 92, 202 n 32; amount of taxation paid by, 26, 204 n 3; as a communal elder, 26, 31, 205 n 24; conversion of descendants of, 153, 167, 247 n 26, 250 n 39, 261 n 6; general privilege of, 30; mansions and gardens of, 27, 28, 217 n 15; manufacturing enterprises of, 28, 204-5 n 13; and modern Jewish school, 52; as patron of Haskala, 41, 209 n 26; relationship to other influential families, 15, 26, 204 n 2; as a traditionalist, 21, 62, 63, 203 n 51 Ephraim, Zacharias Veitel, 63, 209 n 23 Ephraim family: 26, 64, 269 n 39. See also Ebers family; Eberty family; and Edeling family; decline of, 92-93, 274 n 20; naturalization request of, 81; relations with Moses Mendelssohn, 39, 41, 209 n 23; amount of wealth of, 92-93, 229-30 n 13; as communal officers, 31, 250 n 39 "Ephraimiten" [debased Prussian coins], 26 Epidemic of baptisms. See Taufepidemie Epitaphs, 63-64, 218-20 n 30-33, 233 n 36

Index Erech (communal wealth tax assessment), 14, 216 n 9, 216 n i l Eschwe, Martin Christian, 132 Eskeles, Cacilie von, 92, 106, 239 n 6 Establishment, Enlightenment as, 32, 69, 103 Et Ledaber (by Nachman Berlin), 101 Euchel, Isaac, 38, 39, 258 n 44; biography of Mendelssohn by, 208 n 13; editor of Hame'assef, 98, 101; ideological views of, 147, 187, 231 n 26, 232 n 31, 234 n 51, Igrot Meshulam Ha'eshtemoda'i by, 98, 208 n 13; Reb Henoch by, 80, 101, 113, 208 n 13, 222-24 n 11, 240 n 10, 266 n 7, 269 n 38; religious practice of, 100, 233 n 41; residence in Copenhagen and Konigsberg, 35, 207 n 2 Ewald family, 125 Extramarital affairs: 72, 104, 111, 133, 187; age patterns in, 115, 242 n 22; with Christians, 6, 101, 113, 114-16, 240 n 10; and conversion, 166; gender patterns in, 163-65, 166, 167, 266-67 n 12, 267 n 14 ; hiding of, 165, 167; longterm, 114, 117, 240-41 n 15, 266 n 10; residence of couples in, 242 n 23. See also Illegitimacy; Sexual mores Extraordinarii: 12, 30; and conversion, 127, 250 n 38; statistics on, 56, 215-16 n 8, 270 n 41. See also Legal status Eybenberg, Marianne von, 107, 167, 173, 246 n 16, 246^7 n 22 Family, families: cultural atmosphere of, 189-90; breakdown of traditional, 71-72, 111-19, 132-33; conversions within, 124-25, 126, 153, 155, 167, 261-62 n 3-7, 263 n 15, 265 n 25; 132—33; relative gender influences in, 170-71, 268-69 n 29-32; ideological trends among members of, 152-56; percentage of affected by conversion, 122, 188, 245 n 13; tracing of activities between generations of, 8, 151-61, 170-71, 188-89, 261-66 n 5-29; and transmission of Jewish identity, 132-33, 15152; as unit for analyzing ideological decisions, 151-61 Family names: 85-86; of converts, 125 Family purity laws, 15, 201 n 26 Family ties, after conversion, 129-31 Farrnbach, Rabbi Loeb, 200 n 17 Fasting, 15, 200 n 23 Fichte, Johann Gottlieb, 109, 234 n 52 Finckenstein, Karl von, 236 n 20 Fliess, Beer, 217 n 15 Fliess, Benjamin, 241 n 17, 242 n 23 Fliess, Hanne (n6e Itzig), 261 n 6 Fliess, Heinrich, 263 n 17 Fliess, Dr. Isaac Beer, 220 n 40, 230 n 15 Fliess, Dr. Joseph: 204 n 2, 220 n 40; art collection and library of, 49, 204 n 8; illegitimate children and conversion of , 115, 207 n 8, 230 n 15, 241 n 16, 246 n 16, 267 n 18

289

Fliess, Meyer Moses, 230 n 15 Fliess family. See Isaac-Fliess family. Foreign colonies in Berlin, 11, 19, 203 n45 Formality of modernization outlets, gender differences in, 172-73, 175 Fraenkel, Rabbi David: 15; influential relatives of, 15, 66, 220 n 39; teacher of Moses Mendelssohn, 15, 22 Fraenkel family, 26, 239 n 6, 262 n 7. See also Friebe, Wilhelm Zacharias Franke family, 125, 242 n 22, 266 n 10 Frankfurt am Main, 3, 15, 198 n 1 Frederick II of Prussia (Frederick the Great): 53; and Enlightenment, 20, 69, 102; and coin debasement, 26, 204 n 1; and economic policies, 13, 19, 29; and restrictions on Jewish rights, 12, 75; death of, 5, 70, 75, 77 Freischule, Judische: 28, 37, 52, 53, 64-65, 255 n 18; closing of, 179; leaders of, 32, 52, 91, 207 n 9; publications by, 97 French colony in Berlin, 11, 19, 203 n45 French language: 20, 49; instruction in, 50, 51, 52, 171 French occupation of Berlin, 83-84, 94, 109—10, 116, 187 French Revolution, 82, 187, 231 n 25 Friebe, Wilhelm Zacharias, 132, 250 n 39, 252 n 49, 252 n 1; wealth of, 229-30 n 13, 230 n 24 Friedlander, Abraham, 205 n 14 Friedlander, Benoni, 161, 244 n 2, 263 n 17, 265 n 29 Friedlander, Bliimchen (daughter of Daniel Itzig), 35, 211 n 18, 220 n 33, 261 n 6 Friedlander, David: 37, 38, 118, 266 n 2, 269 n 37; Bible and prayerbook translations by, 97, 208 n 13, 232 n 29, 233 n 37; as city councilman, 35, 92; as communal elder, 31, 84, 92, 94, 118, 135, 252 n 1; attitude toward conversion, 120, 244 n 2; petition against conversion, 124, 226 n 29, 244 n 2, 247 n 26; converted descendants of, 132, 161, 244 n 2, 250 n 39, 265 n 29; as member of economic elite, 35, 39, 42, 81, 82, 225 n 21; and emancipation campaign, 5, 78, 80, 82, 83, 84, 91, 93, 99, 225 n 18-21; and defense of German language, 47, 98; use of Hebrew script or language by, 86, 219 n 32, 227 n 33; as Haskala leader, 35, 143; as Haskala patron, 41, 207 n 33, 209 n 25-26; and Judische Freischule, 32, 52, 91; Daniel Itzig's son-inlaw, 28, 35, 93, 153, 204 n 5; family in Konigsberg, 35, 80, 207 n 2-3, 225 n 19; as disciple of Moses Mendelssohn 5, 99, 233 n 36; conflict with Orthodox, 118, 135, 25253 n 3; ideological radicalism of, 99-100, 101, 136, 147, 231 n 26; religious practice of, 53, 260 n 49; and religious reform, 87, 136-37, 144, 254 n 5, 254 n 12; residence of, 204 n 5, 217 n 15; and salons, 236 n 17; silk manufacturer, 28, 35, 229 n 2; subscriber to

290

Index

Friedlander, David (continued) Haskala works, 153, 208 n21, and Wissenschaft des Judentums, 145, 146. See also Teller, Dean Wilhelm Abraham, letter to Friedlander, Moses, 173, 204 n 5, 217 n 15, 230 n 14, 231-32 n 24 Friedlander, Rachel. See Frohberg, Regina Friedlander family: 207 n 3; and Emancipation, 80-81, 225 n 19; conversion and marriage patterns in, 132; naturalization request of, 81 Friedrich Wilhelm of Brandenburg (Great Elector), 4, 10, 11, 13 Friedrich Wilhelm I of Prussia, 13, 19, 21 Friedrich Wilhelm II of Prussia: and Emancipation campaign, 78; and sexual mores, 107, 113; view on Enlightenment, 70, 102 Friedrich Wilhelm III of Prussia: opposition to reformed temple, 137, 139-40 Friedrichsfeld, David, 209 n 26 Friesenhausen, David, 101 Frohberg, Regina [saloniere], 107, 173, 235 n 12, 239 n 7 Galicia, 34 Cans, Eduard: 126, 236 n 17, 272 n 11; and Wissenschaft des Judentums, 145, 146, 260 n 48 Gardens, 27-28, 49 Garrison, military, 4, 19, 113 Genealogical documentation, 7-8, 151 Genealogical tables, 153, 154, 158, 159 Gender differences: 103, 162-76, 266-71 n 149; in conversions, 163, 164, 165-68, 174-75; in conversions (percentages male or female), 121, 123, 126, 244 n 6, 246 n 19-20, 248 n 31-32, 266-67 n 12, 267 n 14-18, 269 n 32, 270 n44, 271 n48; and "double standard," 165, 167; and education, 171-72, 266 n 6, 270 n 40; and extramarital affairs, 114-15, 16365, 166, 175, 243 n 30, 266-67 n 7-14; and ideological affiliation, 162-63, 170-71, 175, 268-69, n 29-31, 270-71 n 47; and intermarriage, 131, 252 n 52-53, 270 n46; in institutional outlets, 172-73, 175; and Romanticism, 162-63, 168, 170, 175; and social graces, 171, 269 n 39; in successful assimilation, 168 General Privilege (legal status): 29-30, 56, 7677, 205 n 18-20; and conversion, 127, 250 n 38; statistics on recipients, 56, 215-16 n 8, 250 n 38, 270 n 41; individual recipients of, 30, 91, 205 n 21 General Privilegium of 1750, 12, 13, 75, 137 Generations, relationship of ideologies and identities between, 38, 143, 151-61, 170-71, 189-92, 259-60 n 45-47 Gentz, Frederick von, 109 Gerhard, Isaac Moses, 65, 220 n 37, 226 n 32 German, High: 96, 192, 222 n 7; and Haskala, 33, 100-101; and Mendelssohn's Bible

translation, 37-38, 47; inability to read or speak, 47^8, 178, 179; in Hebrew script, 37, 46, 47, 64, 86, 211-12 n 25-27, 227 n 33-34, 240 n 10; in communal records, 47, 86; on epitaphs, 64, 219-20 n 33; Jewish accent in, 212 n 33-34, 236 n 24; prayer in, 134, 136, 137, 138, 254 n 11, 254 n 14, 255 n 18, 27071 n 47; sermons in, 136, 137, 179; study of, 51, 52; transition from Yiddish to, 21, 46-48, 211-12 n 19-25 Gesellschaft der Freunde [organization of Enlightened youth]: 64; all-male membership of, 172; conversion among members of, 131, 157, 252 n 50, 263 n 17; and early burial, 98; and economic elite, 41; and illegitimacy, 11415, 241 n 17; and religious reform, 137; and Sabbath violation, 100, 233 n 42 Ghettoization, 16, 202 n 35 Glogau, Silesia, 80, 100 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von: 102, 163, 234 n 52, 266 n 2; and Sara Grotthuss, 107, 163 Government service, admission to, 85, 140, 175 Graetz, Heinrich: views on Taufepidemie, 121, 244 n 1; view on salons, 109, 236 n 22 Grattenauer, Karl Wilhelm Friedrich, 83, 109, 226 n 24, 236 n 24 Grave diggers, 14, 56 Great Elector. See Friedrich Wilhelm of Brandenburg Greek mythology, 27-28 Grosser Hamburgerstrasse, 14 Grotthuss, Baronness Sara von: 163, 173, 239 n 7; and conversion, 167, 246 n 16, 246-47 n 22; and Goethe, 107, 163; and salons, 1067, 235 n 13 Guide for the Perplexed, 21, 97 Gumpertz, Aron Salomon, 21, 22, 37, 203 n 53 Gumpertz, Herz Moses, 26 Gumpertz, Moses Levin, 202 n 32 Gumpertz, Ruben Samuel: 217 n 15, 220 n 35, 254 n 12, 260 n 49; as a communal elder, 118, 178, 252 n 1; and religious reform, 135, 137, 254 n 5 Gumpertz family, 90 Hachnasat Kalla. See Dowry, subsidies, organization for Halbbildung. See Enlightenment, "false" Halberstadt, 181 Halevy, Yehuda, 97 Halle, von, family, 91, 252 n 49, 262 n 7 Hamburg-Altona: 10, 100, 198 n 1, 207 n 2, 268 n 28; rabbis of, 15, 99 Hameassef (Hebrew publication): 38, 96, 101, 232 n 32, 234 n 46; and Konigsberg, 35, 38; demise of, 100, 101, 102; radicalism in, 71, 98-99; and later reformers, 143, 144; subscribers to, 40, 101, 260 n 46, 263 n 16; Hartwig Wessely and, 97, 101, 231 n 28, 234 n 50

Index Hair, covering of. See Headdress; Barrett Handelsmann. See Dealer Handlungsdiener. See Commercial employees Hannover, 181 Hardenberg, Prince Karl August von, 84-85 Haskala [Jewish Enlightenment]: 95, 151, 177, 191, 208 n 13; and causes of the crisis, 7, 151-52, 188, 189-94; attitudes toward the state of, 71; 96, 222-24 n 11; beginning of, 5, 21-22, 36-37; conversion of descendants of adherents to, 161, 187, 189, 263 n 16; decline of, 95, 100-101, 102; Eastern European attitudes toward, 34; economic elite and the intellectuals of, 33-34, 38^2; gender differences in adherence to, 162-63, 171, 175; Hebrew language and, 33, 34, 64, 100-101; Hebrew vs. German writers, 96, 99, 231 n 26; intellectuals of, 33-42, 186; intellectuals, occupations of, 35-36, 207 n 7, 207 n 9; opposition to radical trends of, 101-2, 187; persistence in adherence to, 103, 163; rabbinic opposition to, 37, 97, 185-86, 207 n 33; radical phase of, 5, 38, 71-72, 80, 95102; reaction to extramarital affairs by, 11314, 118; and later religious reform movement, 134, 143-44, 260 n46; subscription to works of, 39, 40, 144, 152, 208 n 18-21, 260 n 46 Hausfreund [friend of the family; title for salon guest], 105, 114 Hauslehrer. See Tutors Headdress, 45, 46, 210 n4-5, 210 n 14, 210-11 n 16. See also Barrett Hebrew language: and Haskala, 33, 34, 64, 96, 99, 100-101, 231 n26; in communal records, 21, 86, 227 n 34; decline in 100-101, 179; prayer in, 138, 254 n 14, 270-71 n 47; prohibition in ledgers, 85, 222 n 7; study of, 50, 51, 52, 171-72 Hebron, society to aid the poor of, 14, 200 n 23, 221 n 42 Hegelian philosophy, 145 Heidereutergasse: 59, 202 n 38; synagogue on: 14, 18, 142, 180 Heilige Geiststrasse, 59, 142, 202 n 38, 228 n 37, 256 n 36 Heimann, Itzig, 153 Heine, Heinrich: 7, 86, 145, 226-27 n 32, 236 n 17; conversion of, 126, 146 Heine, Heinrich Carl, 265 n 25. Heinemann, Jeremias, 179 Helfft, Gottschalk, 260 n 46 Henoch, Israel and Samuel, 153 Hensel, Fanny (sister of Felix MendelssohnBartholdy), 107, 130 Hertz, Deborah: on conversions, 114, 12021, 165, 181, 198 n 9; on salons, 108, 235 n 12 Herz, Henriette: 35, 48, 63; intellectual differences from husband (Markus Herz), 105-6, 163, 266 n 2; conversion of, 131, 160-

291

61, 168, 246 n 16; education of, 51-52, 17172; and salons, 104, 105-6, 108, 109, 131, 235 n 13; and Schleiermacher, 106, 109, 236 n 21-22; and sexual mores, 109; and Tugendbund, 108-9 Herz, Markus: 35, 37, 38, 105-6, 207 n 8, 209 n 26; and early burial, 98, 232 n 31; as a Kantian philosopher, 35, 36, 37, 105; epitaph of, 219 n 32; lectures by, 49, 105-6; opposition to Romanticism of, 163, 266 n 2 Hesse, 248 n 32 Heymann, Aron Hirsch, 47, 252 n 49; and Orthodoxy 177, 179, 180; and Strausberg 67, 221 n 43 Hildesheim, 181 Hillmar, Joseph, 260 n 48 Hinterhaus [back houses] 59, 217 n 16 Hirsch, David (cloth manufacturer), and family, 21, 28, 30, 90, 205 n 14, 206 n 30. See also David, Hirsch Hirschel, Abraham. See Posner, Abraham Hirschel, Rabbi Zvi. See Levin, Rabbi Hirschel Historiography (previous): 3, 73, 82, 146; of conversion, 120-21, 162, 244 n 1; and role of women, 175-76, 266 n 1; of salons, 104, 109, 162 Hitzig, Elias Daniel, 261 n 6 Hitzig, Henriette Marianne, 132 Hitzig, Julius Eduard: 86, 132, 226-27 n 32; conversion of, 124, 230 n 19, 246 n 16, 263 n 17; and salons 236 n 17, 266 n 5. See also Itzig family Hoffmeister, Friedrich Wilhelm, 115 Holdheim, Rabbi Samuel, 180, 274 n 21 Holz, Kriegsrath, 115 Homberg, Herz: 37, 38, 53, 97, 209 n 25 Horwitz, Rabbi Lazarus (Leiser Zilz), 66, 220-21 n 41 Hospice, Jewish (Bikur Cholim), 14, 58, 65, 220 n 35 House ownership, 218 n 20 Huguenots. See French colony in Berlin Humboldt, Alexander and Wilhelm von, 108, 109, 237 n 28 Identity, search for, 133, 192-93 [grot Meshulam Ha'eshtemoda'i (by Euchel), 98, 208 n 13 Ikkurim [assistant elders], 14, 31, 205 n 23, 2056 n 24, 206 n 28, 230 n 18 Illegitimacy. See also Legitimization: 6, 72, 93, 111-19, 151, 165, 188, 241 n 17, 242 n21, 242 n 23; age of parents, 115, 242 n 22; causes of, 118-19; changes in, over time, 113-14, 116, 119, 133, 164-65; comparison to non-Jewish patterns, 114, 118-19, 240 n 12, 244 n 33-34; and conversion, 114-16, 119, 121, 123, 125-26, 132, 166, 241 n 16, 246 n 18, 266-67 n 8-14, 267 n 17-18; decline in, 116, 125, 133, 134, 187, 242 n 24, 244 n 23; financialcial support in, 165, 242 n23; gender

292

Index

Illegitimacy (continued) patterns in, 114-15, 164-65, 175, 243 n 30, 266-67 n 8-14, 267 n 17-18; government regulations on, 115; rates of, 114, 116-18, 240 n 12, 242^13 n 26, 244 n 33-34; reactions to, 118, 165, 187, 242-13 n 26, 244 n 31-32; social status of parents, 114-15, 117, 119, 128, 241 n 18-20, 243 n 28-29, 250-51 n 40, 266 n 10-11; statistics on, 114, 115-16, 117, 164, 240-41 n 15-16, 242-43 n 26, 246 n 18, 266 n 8-9, 267 n 13-14; with two Jewish parents, 116-18, 164-65, 242 n21, 242-43 n 26-29 Immanuel of Rome, 97 Income levels: 18, 55-62, 87, 92-93, 94, 229 n 2; compared to non-Jews, 57-58, 62, 216 n 10-11; and conversion, 121, 123, 127, 15758, 160, 249-50 n 37, 264 n 23; and dietary laws, 258-59 n 44; and divorce, 112, 238-39 n 4 ; hierarchy of, 14, 26-27, 56-58, 94, 215 n 6; and marriage age, 174; and occupation, 217 n 18; and Orthodoxy, 141, 158, 221 n42, 256 n 29-30, 258 n 43, 264 n 21; and religious reform, 141, 256 n 29-30, 258 n 43; and salons, 107, 235-36 n 15; of subscribers to Haskala works, 39, 40, 158, 208 n 18-19, 264 n23 Indifference, religious, 147, 179 Industry. See Manufacturing Infant mortality, 165, 242-43 n 26 Infanticide, 58-59 Insane persons, 58 Institutional outlets, gender differences in, 172— 73, 175 Intellectuals: Christian, 35; see also Haskala, intellectuals of Intolerance, perceptions of Jewish, 63 Isaac, Bernhard (silk manufacturer). See also Bernhard family: 21, 28, 205 n 14; as employer of Moses Mendelssohn, 22, 28, 35, 205 n 14, 229 n 3 Isaac-Fliess, Bliimchen (married von Bose), 167, 230 n 15, 246 n 16, 246 n 21-22 Isaac-Fliess, Moses: 26, 28, 36; amount of taxation paid by, 26-27, 204 n 3; conversion of descendants of, 93, 153, 167, 207 n 8, 230 n 15, 247 n 23, 247 n 26, 261 n 6; mansion of, 27, 217 n 15; relationship to Itzig family, 26, 204 n 2; testament and inheritance of, 63, 64, 129-30, 230 n 15, 247 n 23; traditionalism of, 62, 63 Isaac-Fliess, Rebecca (married Lieutenant von Runkel), 167, 230 n 15, 246 n 16, 246 n 2122 Isaac-Fliess family: 26, 220 n 40; decline of, 93, 94, 274 n 20; see also Fliess, Joseph et al. Isaak, Moses. See Isaac-Fliess, Moses Israel, itinerant collectors from, 271-72 n 2 Israel, fund for the poor of the land of (Chevrat Eretz Yisrael), 14, 178, 221 n 42, 264 n 20, 271-72 n 2

Israelit (term), 192 Itzig, Benjamin, 153, 261 n 6 Itzig, Daniel: 26, 36, 63, 93, 106; and Jewish schools, 52; art collection of, 27, 49; as communal elder, 31, 91, 93; conversion of descendants of, 124, 153, 247 n 26, 250 n 39, 261-62 n 6; amount of taxation paid by, 26, 91; divorce among descendants of, 239 n 6; general privilege of, 30; mansions of, 27-28, 35, 53, 137, 204 n 5, 217 n 15, 254 n 12; manufacturing enterprises of, 28; naturalization of family of, 81, 127, 215 n 5, 224-25 n 15, 225 n 20; patron of Haskala, 32, 39, 41, 153, 207 n 33, 208 n 21, 209 n 26; relationship to Ephraim and Isaac-Fliess families, 26, 115, 204 n 2; religious practice of, 27, 53, 62 Itzig, Isaac Daniel: 81, 204 n 2; and campaign for Emancipation, 78, 81; as communal officeholder, 31, 94, 230 n 18; conversion of children of, 261-62 n 6; and Jiidische Freischule, 32, 52, 91, 92; bankruptcy of, 92; epitaph of 219 n 32; as supporter of Haskala, 153, 207 n33, 208 n 21 Itzig, Jacob, 91 Itzig, Miriam (nee Wulff), 63, 210-11 n 16 Itzig, Moritz, 110, 236 n 25 Itzig, Moses, 28, 153 Itzig family: 26, 39, 94, 105, 274 n 20; and subscription to Haskala works, 39, 153, 208 n 21; bankruptcy of, 72, 91-93, 94, 186 Jacobson, Israel: 84, 136, 145; and Berlin reformed temple, 137, 254 n 12. See also Beer-Jacobson Temple Jacobson, Jacob, 151 Jacobson, Naphtali, 137 Jaroslaw, Aron, 34 Jeiteles, Baruch, 234 n 47 Jeiteles, Yehuda, 98 Jena, defeat of Prussia at battle of, 77, 83 Jerome Bonaparte, King of Westphalia, 136 Jerusalem (by Moses Mendelssohn), 38, 53, 69, 97 Joseph, Levin (educational reformer), 52 Joseph II of Austria, 222 n 1 Jost, Isaac Marcus, 146, 260 n 47-48 Judenbiirgerbiicher [registers of Jewish citizens], 181, 273-74 n17-18 ^udenkartei: contents of, 123, 124, 125, 165, 181, 240 n 13, 245 n 14, 247 n 28; definition, 114, 244 n 10; scope of, 120-21, 122. See also Conversion Jiidenstrasse: 18, 59, 87, 202 n 34, 228 n 37; and Orthodox or Reform, 142, 257 n 36 Judisch-deutsch. See German, High, in Hebrew script Jiidische Freischule. See Freischule, Jiidische Jiidische Gemeindeschule, 179 Julius family, 130, 262 n 11

Index Kabbala, 15, 97, 99, 201 n 27, 232 n 33-34 Kant, Immanuel: 35, 234 n 51; Critique of Pure Reason, impact of, 71, 102, 221 n 2. See also Herz, Markus Kashrut. See Dietary laws; Kosher meat tax Kassel (Westphalia), 136 Kaufinann. See Merchant Kaufmannschaft, Korporation der. See Merchants' guild Kaufmannschaft, Ressource der jiidischen. See Ressource von 1794 Kauscherwachter [supervisor of kosher food], rabbi as merely, 178 Kehilla [Jewish community]: institutions of, 4, 13-15; powers of, abolition of, 79, 80. See also Elders Kisch, Dr. Abraham, 21, 22, 37 Knecht. See Commercial employee Kohelet Musar, 203-4 n 55, 208 n 10 Konigsberg: 51, 100, 137, 205 n 18, 207 n3, 272 n 13; and Emancipation campaign, 80-81, 84, 85; and Friedlander family, 35, 39, 225

n 19; and Haskala intellectuals, 35, 38, 207 n2 Konigstrasse, 16, 27, 142, 202 n 38, 228 n 37 Kb'penickerstrasse, 27-28 Koreff, David Ferdinand, 236 n 17 Kosher meat tax (Pardon):\4, 255 n 21; tax list, 7, 100, 143, 233 n 44^5, 258-59 n 44-45, 260 n 49 Krojanke (West Prussia), 86, 227 n 33-34 Ktav Yosher (by Saul Berlin), 208 n 13, 232 n 34 Kurland, Dorothea, Duchess of, 107 Kuzari (by Yehuda Halevy), 97

Lace manufacturing, 28 Landsberger, Rabbi Hirsch, 172 Landau, Rabbi Ezekiel, of Prague, 15, 232 n 33 Latin language, 51 Lavater, Johann Caspar, challenge to Mendelssohn by, 37, 268 n 27 Leather dealers' guild, 172 Ledgers, language of, 85, 222 n 7 Lefin, Mendel, 207 n 1, 234 n 47 Leffmann, Herz Abraham, family foundation, 64 Leffmann, Salomon Abraham, conversion of descendants of, 168, 169, 263-64 n 19 Legal restrictions, and-Jewish: 4; attitudes toward, 76-77; on economic activity, 11, 1213, 78, 199 n 14, 105 n 18; growing strictness of 11-13. See also Emancipation; Taxation, special Legal status: 29-30; and conversion, 127, 250 n 38; hierarchy of, 12, 56, 215 n 5; and marriage age, 270 n 41; relationship to wealth, 56, 215-16 n 8 Legitimization of out-of-wedlock children: 114, 166, 241 n 16, 252 n 53; gender differences in, 164, 266 n i l , 267 n 13 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm von, 69, 71, 102, 221 n2

293

Leibzoll (body tax), 10, 78 "Leichtsinn und Fro'mmelei" (by Aron Wolfsohn), 101, 113, 208 n 13, 240 n 10 Lemos, Benjamin de, 35, 207 n 8, 210 n 5 Lesebuch flir jiidische Kinder, 37, 52 Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim: 20; and Moses Mendelssohn, 22, 37, 50 Levin, Rabbi Hirschel, 66, 201 n 27, 207 n 33 Levin, Rahel. See Varnhagen, Rahel Levy, Martin Salomon, 91, 124, 224 n 12, 247 n 26, 268 n 24. See also Delmar family Levy, Meyer Benjamin, 90, 205 n 14, 205 n 21 Levy, Salomon Moses and family, 91, 205 n 21 Levy, Samuel Salomon (husband of Sara Levy), 91, 106, 153, 209 n 26 Levy, Sara (nee Itzig): 130-31, 270-71 n47; mansion of, 27- 28, 91, 236 n 25; salon of, 106, 110, 235 n 13; support of Haskala by, 106 Liberal Judaism, 180 Liberalism, religious: relationship to assimilation, 152, 161, 188-94 Libraries: lending, 52; private, 27, 49 Lichtenau, Wilhelmine, Countess of, 107 Liebert family, 262 n 11, 265-66 n 29 Liebmann, Jost, 16 Liebmann, Liepmann Simson, 153, 154 Liepmann, Nathan, 91, 158, 159. See also Liman family Liman, Carl August, 159, 224 n 12, 252 n 51, 263-64 n19 Liman, Carl Eduard, 132, 159 Liman, Henriette, 159, 168, 169 Liman, Isaac Nathanael, 224 n 12, 246-47 n 22; conversion of, 159, 168, 241 n 16, 241 n 18, 252 n 51, 263-64 n 19 Liman, Wilhelmine Caroline Emilie, 132 Liman family: 91; conversions in, 90, 91, 158, 159, 262 n i l , 263-64 n 19 Lindau, Baruch (Bernhard), 35, 38, 143, 217 n 15 Linen trade, 18 Lion, Oberkantor, 178 List, Joel, 260 n 48 Lithuania, 34 Literature: 104, 163, 171; and salons, 106 Liturgy, modification of, 85, 87, 136. See also Reform, religious Locke, John, 22 Loewe, Joel (Bril), 207 n 9, 209 n 25-26, 232 n29, 232 n 31 Loewen, Samuel Lippmann, 51-52, 207 n 3 Lottery business, 89, 90 Louis Ferdinand, Prince, 108 Love affairs. See Extramarital affairs; Sexual mores Lucinde by Friedrich von Schlegel, 108 Luther, Martin, Bible translation by, 51 Luza, Louisa, 115, 230 n 15 Mahler, Raphael, 215 n 6, 225 n 21 Magine Re'im (organization), 64, 242 n 21, 269 n35

294

Index

Magnus, Ascher Israel and Joseph Israel, 153 Magnus, Markus, 16 Maid servants. See also Servants: 49, 58, 59, 213 n 44-45; and illegitimacy, 115, 117, 119, 241 n 20, 242 n 28-29; numbers of, 18, 49, 56, 87, 213 n44, 215 n 7, 228 n 38 Maimon, Salomon: 63, 209 n 26, 218 n 24, 234

n 51; autobiography of, 34, 214-15 n 2; biographical information on, 34, 37, 38 Maimonides, Moses: 98-99, 232 n 33; Aristotelian logic of, 51, 218 n 24; Guide for the Perplexed by, 21, 63, 97 Mansions, 27-28, 32, 49, 59, 204 n 5, 217 n 15 Manufacturing: 18, 19, 21, 28-29, 30, 204-5 n 13-15; crisis in, 89-90, 92, 229 n 2-3; government support of, 29 Maps, 17, 60-61 Marcus, Israel (silk manufacturer), 28, 205 n 14, n21 Marcuse, Abraham: 220 n 40; general privilege of, 30 Marienkirche (church), 16 Market stalls (Buden), 18 Markisch Friedland, 181 Markus, Levin (father of Rahel Varnhagen), 105 Marriage: age at, 173-74, 236 n 16, 270 n 41, 270 n 43; arranged, 173-74; views of, by Romanticism, 108, 174, 236 n 19 Marriage to Christians, 107, 108, 168, 236 n 16, 270 n 46; and conversion, 123, 166-67, 252 n52-53, 268 n19 Mathematics, study of, 51, 52 Maupertuis, Pierre-Louis Moreau de, 20, 22, 203 n53 Meat market, 178 Medicine, Berlin school of, 51, 213 n 47 Memorializing the dead, 63-64 Men, and social graces, 171; in salons, 108, 236 n 17, 266 n 5; view of as dull, 266 n 7. See also Gender differences Mendel, David. See Neander, Johann August Wilhelm Mendelssohn, Abraham, 35, 91; and conversion, 130, 237 n 1, 263 n 17, 274-75 n 1 Mendelssohn, Alexander, 274 n 20 Mendelssohn, Dorothea (Brendel): 109, 226 n 32, 235 n 5, 237 n 1, 239 n 7; affair with Friedrich Schlegel, 6, 8, 108, 111, 170, 173, 237 n 1, 246-47 n22; Christian piety of, 170, 268 n 26; conversion of, 6, 8, 111, 170, 237 n 1, 246 n 16; marriage to Simon Veil, 32, 173, 237 n 1, 266 n7; and salons, 104, 107, 108 Mendelssohn, Fromet: correspondence with husband Moses, 41, 47, 48-49, 209 n27; hair covering of, 46, 62; as hostess, 105 Mendelssohn, Henriette, 170, 237 n 1, 268 n27 Mendelssohn, Joseph: 39, 237 n 1, 252 n 49, 274-75 n 2; as a banker, 35, 91; and early burial, 98; and religious reform, 138

Mendelssohn, Moses: 22, 100, 172, 208 n 13, 213 n 39, 274-75 n 2; arrival in Berlin, 4, 22, 214-15 n 2; background of, 35, 207 n 2; beard and wig of, 46, 210 n4, 210 n 13; communal honors for, 39, 185, 209 n 22; conservatism of, 5, 38, 53, 69, 70, 95, 147, 185, 231 n 26; conversion of children of, 8, 111, 130, 152, 185, 188, 237 n 1, 247 n 26; death of, 5, 38, 70, 95, 97, 111, 187; education of, 21-22, 4748, 51, 213 n48; Enlightenment activities of, 21-22, 36-38, 52, 187; and German language, 22, 47-48; Jerusalem by, 38, 53, 69, 97; Lavater's challenge to, 37, 268 n 27; Phaedon by, 37, 221 n 2; relationship to economic elite, 39, 41, 209 n 23, 209 n 27; relationship to more radical Enlightenment, 53, 185, 214 n 63; religious observance of, 50, 53, 62, 214 n 58-59; and silk business, 22, 28, 35, 90, 207 n 7, 229 n 1, 229 n 3; social circle of, 22, 37, 39, 50, 105, 209 n 23; as symbol of Enlightenment, 98-99, 182, 222 n 2 Mendelssohn, Moses, Bible translation by: 34, 37-38, 48, 97, 99; subscribers to, 40, 152, 153, 208 n 20; subscribers to, compared to burial society members, 66, 158, 189, 262 n 9, 263 n 18, 264 n 23; conversion among descendants of subscribers to, 157-58, 189, 263 n 18, 264 n 23; subscribers to, and later Orthodox or Reform affiliation, 156, 260 n 46, 262 n 9; subscribers to, overlap with burial society membership, 63, 218 n26, 263 n 18 Mendelssohn, Nathan, 132, 237 n 1 Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Felix, 7, 107 Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Paul, 252 n 50 Mendelssohn-Bartholdy family, 131, 132 Mendheim, Joseph, 252 n 51, 262 n 12 Mendheim, Martin Heinrich (Michael Hirsch) 92, 239-40 n 8, 252 n 49, 252 n 1; conversion of, 155, 250 n 39, 262 n 12 Mendheim family, 132 Menes, Abraham, 120, 121, 180-81 Mercantilism, 13, 19, 29 Merchants, Jewish: 59, 87; compared to dealers, 62, 128, 198 n7, 217 n 18; and conversion, 128, 250-51 n40; and illegitimacy, 115, 128, 243 n 28; Orthodox or Reform, 142, 256 n 34 Merchants' guild: 172; social characteristics of members of, 129, 131, 251 n 42, 252 n 49, 257 n 35 Messianic hopes, 15-16, 76, 201 n 27-29, 27172 n 2 Meyer, Aaron Moses (Joresch): 49, 209 n 26; conversion of children of, 167, 246 n 22, 263 n 17; wealth of, 92, 204 n 3 Meyer, Michael A., 137, 197 n 1, 225 n 21, 253 n 4 Meyer, Recha (nee Mendelssohn), 237 n 1 Meyer, Rosel (daughter of Veitel Heine Ephraim), 39, 92, 209 n 23, 247 n 26 Meyer family, 105 Meyerbeer, Giacomo, 7, 91, 107. See also Beer family

Index Michaelis, Johann David, 41, 76 Migrants and conversion: 121, 122, 123, 180, 245 n 14, 248 n 32, 249 n 34; as proportion of all converts, 125, 126, 247-48 n 30, 272 n 12; differences from native Berlin Jewish converts, 123-24, 126, 128, 132, 250-51 n 40; gender patterns of, 126, 166, 174-75, 246 n 20, 248 n 32, 270 n 44, 271 n 48 Migration of Haskala intellectuals, 34-35, 37, 207 n 1-2 Migration from provinces: and end of crisis, 7, 177, 181, 182, 194, 274 n 19; province of origin of migrants, 126, 181-82, 248 n 32, 274 n 18 Mikve. See Ritual bath Milim Le'eloah (Hebrew-German glossary), 47 Military service. See Army service Minden, Yehuda Loeb, 47 Mint, Prussian: deliveries to, 13, 199 n 12, 226 n28; suppliers of, 18, 90, 91 Minyanim. See Synagogues, private Mirabeau, Count Honore de, 13, 108, 222 n 2 Mishle Asaf (by Isaac Satanov): 97, 208 n 13, 208 n 17; subscribers to, 40, 260 n 44 Missionary aims of Prussian government, 13435, 140 Mistresses. See Extramarital affairs Mixed-sex seating in synagogue, 137, 138, 254 n i l , 270-71 n47 Mixing with Christians, social. See Socializing Models for modernization: 133; lack of, 191-94 Modernization: beginning of 10, 21—22, 25-28, 36-37; lack of models for, 133, 191-94, 275 n 3; of lifestyle: 27-28, 43-54, 210-14 n 465; outside Berlin, 195-96; peaceful stage of, 4-5, 21-22, 25-67, 185, 186; radical stage of, 5-6, 69-133; relationship between peaceful and radical stages, 151-76 185, 187-94 Molkenmarkt, 16, 18, 27, 202 n 38 Monday Club, 20 Money changers (Wechsler), 18, 29, 59, 62, 217 n 17-18; and religious reform, 142, 256 n 31 Mortgages, 89, 90 Moser, Moses, 260 n 48 Moses, Bliimchen and Rebecca. See Isaac-Fliess, Bliimchen; Isaac-Fliess, Rebecca Moses, Jacob, and family, 239 n 7, 247 n 26, 250 n39 Mosse, Werner E., 168 Mosson, Joseph, 93 Mosson, Sara, 130 Mother as determiner of Jewish status, 121, 165, 168 Muhr, Joseph, 260 n 49 Munzjuden. See Coin millionaires Music: 50, 131, 171, 275 n 3; at salons, 105, 106 Names, baptismal, of converts, 125 Names, Christian, prohibition on taking, 140 Names, family, 85-86, 226-27 n 32

295

Napoleon: 86, 136, 137 Nationality, Jewish, 15-16, 85 Naturalization of individual families, 81, 126, 215 n5, 224-25 n 15, 225 n 20 Nauen (Cohn), Dina, family foundation, 64, 172 Nauen family, 153, 155, 262 n 11 Neander, Johann August Wilhelm, 170, 268 n 28 Neigborhood, Jewish. See Residence patterns Neuburger, Amalie, 132 Neue Friedrichstrasse, 228 n 37 NeueMarkt, 16, 202 n 38 Neugas, Rabbi Sanwil, 200 n 17 Nicolai, Christoph Friedrich: 20, 22; as friend of Moses Mendelssohn, 22, 37, 50; guidebook to Berlin by, 27, 49; mockery of, 102, 234 n 52 Nikolaikirche (church), 16 Nobles: 19; marriage to, 123, 131, 166, 167, 168, 246—47 n 22; mixing with commoners, 104, 105; mixing with Jews, 105; at salons, 108; sexual liaisons with, 113-14, 115, 164, 240 n10, 241 n 1 8 Novalis [Friedrich von Hardenberg], 266 n 2 Oaths, Jewish, 85 Oberaltester. See Elders Occupations: 18, 59-62, 87, 203 n 41-43; and conversion, 126, 128-29, 250-51 n40; of Haskala intellectuals, 35-36; and illegitimacy, 115, 117, 243 n 28; and Reform and Orthodoxy, 141-42, 256 n 31-34; and wealth, 62, 216 n 13, 217 n 17-18; government restrictions on, 13, 78-79, 199 n 14; of the unmarried 215 n 7 Oettinger, Rabbi Jacob Joseph, 178, 179, 271-72 n2 officials, government, at salons, 108 Old clothes dealers, 59, 142, 216-17 n 13, 217 n 17-18, 256 n 34 "Old Testament believer," 192 Oppenfeld, von, family, 262 n 11, 268 n 24 Oppenheim, Henriette and Mendel, 92, 230 n 14, 230-31 n24, 261 n 6 Oppert, Ferdinand, 262 n 11 Oranienburgerstrasse, 14, 180 Ordinarii: 12, 30, 56, 199 n 7; and conversion, 127, 250 n 38; income levels of, 215-16 n 8 Organ in synagogue: 136, 138, 180 Orphanages, 115, 165, 242 n 23 Orthodoxy: 62-67, 118, 147, 190, 197 n 1, 25253 n 3; age distribution in, 143, 257 n 40; conversion in families of affiliates of, 156-58, 161, 189, 262-63 n 13-15, 264 n 22-23, 26566 n 29; affiliates of, compared to modernist families, 66-67, 156-58, 189, 265-66 n 29; description of, in nineteenth century, 65, 17778; dietary laws and adherents of, 143; family relationships in, 152, 153, 154; family relationships with reformers, 153, 156, 262 n 8; relative gender influences in, 170-71, 268 n 29, 269 n 31; and Haskala, 260 n 46, 262

296

Index

Orthodoxy (continued) n 9; hesitations about emancipation of, 80, 222-24 n i l ; leaders of 65-66, 178-79; loss of influence by, 65-66, 178, 190; number of adherents of, 141, 256 n28; "Old Orthodoxy" [Alt Orthodoxie], 179, 195; overlap with modernists, 63, 66-67, 140, 153-56, 255 n 25, 262 n 13; organizations of, 8, 64, 172; petitions in favor of, 137, 254 n 14; reports to government against reformers by, 138-39; social makeup of, 66, 141^3, 158, 221 n 42, 256 n 29-30, 256 n 34, 258 n 43, 264 n 21; and wealth, 65, 72, 256 n 30. See also Burial society; Talmud Torah Ostentation. See Conspicuous consumption

Ostpreussen. See East Prussia Out of wedlock children. See Illegitimacy Paalzow, Christian Ludwig, 83 Packhof, Hinter den Neuen, 27 Palestine, prayers for return to, 134 Pardon (communal consumption tax). See Kosher meat tax Pamassim. See Elders of the Jewish Community Patriotism, Prussian, 86, 109-10 Paul, Jean, 108 Pawnbrokers: 18, 47, 59, 217 n 17-18; decline of, 90, 229 n 2; and Orthodoxy or religious reform, 142, 256 n 33-34 "Persian Letters" (by Montesquieu), 98 Petitions: for Emancipation, 77-78, 80-81, 83, 84, 224 n 12; against religious reform 138, 254 n 14; for religious reform, 136, 138, 156, 254 n 5, 254 n 14, 262 n 12 Phaedon (by Moses Mendelssohn), 37 Pharmacist, right to be, 140 Philippi, Aron, 132 Philomatische Gesellschaft, 172 Physicians. See Doctors Pilpul (traditional method of Talmud study), 15, 98, 201 n 27 Plessner, Salomon, 179, 272 n 11 Plush, 28, 205 n 14 P'nei Yehoshua (Rabbi Joshua Falk), 15 Podolia, 34 Poetry albums, 49 Poland, migrants from, 34, 270 n 44; as Talmud teachers, 51, 240 n 10 Police districts, 59, 142, 251 n 41^2, 257 n 36, 257 n 39, 258-59 n 44 Pomerania, 181, 274 n 18 Poor: 41, 44, 58-59, 62, 64, 94, 216 n 12; hostel for, 58, 214 n 58-59. See also Charity Population of Berlin, growth of Jewish, in eighteenth century: 12, 181, 199 n 8-9, 27273 n 15; after 1822, 181-82, 194, 272-74 n 15-17, 274 n 19; government restrictions on, in eighteenth century, 11-13, 76, 215 n 3 Porcelain purchases, required by government, 13, 78 Pork, 53, 100, 233 n41

Portraits, 45, 49

Posen: 65, 91; migrants from, 126, 181-82, 194, 248 n 32, 270 n 44, 274 n 18, 274 n 21 Posner, Abraham (Hirschel), 21, 202 n 32, 203 n51 Poststrasse: 59, 202 n 38, 228 n 37; Ephraim mansion on, 27, 217 n 15; Orthodox or Reformers on, 142, 257 n 36, 257 n 39 Potsdam, 20, 52, 53, 90, 137; businesses in, 21, 28, 229 n 3 Prague, 15, 98 Prayer, language of: German, 134, 136-37, 13839, 254 n 11, 254 n 14, 255 n 18, 270-71 n 47; Hebrew, 138, 270-71 n 47 Pregnancy, avoidance of, 119, 174; hiding of, 165, 167 Prenumeranten. See Subscribers Prenuptial conceptions, 113, 119, 239-40 n 8 Privilege, general. See General Privilege Professions, free, 87, 228 n 38, 256 n 33 Promenades, 49, 172, 213 n 40 "Proselyte names," 125 Prussia: growth of, 19; government reform circle in, 84, 109 Pseudo-epigraphic works, 97, 99 Publique Bediente (communal employees): 30, 56, 199 n 7; and conversion, 127, 250 n 38; numbers of, 56

Rabbinic courts: 15, 135, 220 n 39; abolition of, 85, 86, 222 n 8, 226 n31 Rabbis: 14, 15, 56, 200 n 17, 201 n 27; costumes of, 45-46; lowered status of, 65-66, 135, 178 Racial definitions of Jews, 121 Radziwill, Luise Princess, 107 Ramler, Karl Wilhelm, 20 Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo ben Itzhak), 146 Reading societies, 105, 235 n 5 Real estate business, 90 Reason of state, 82 Reb Henoch (by Isaac Euchel), 80, 101, 113, 208 n 13, 222-24 n 11, 240 n 10, 266 n 7, 269 n38 Reform, religious. See also Beer-Jacobson Temple: 38, 87, 95, 134-44, 151, 177, 197 n 1, 253-60 n 4—49; age distribution within, 143, 257-58 n 40-43; as an alternative form of Judaism, 193; conflict concerning (181423), 6, 67, 134-44, 254-55 n 10-18; as response to conversion, 134, 191; conversion in families of affiliates of, 262 n 11-12, 264 n 24; conversion in families of affiliates of, compared to conversion in Orthodox families, 156-57, 160, 161, 263 n 14-15; and observance of dietary laws, 143, 160, 258-59 n 44, 264 n 24; and Emancipation, 87, 134, 135, 136; family relationships among supporters of, 152, 153; family relationships with Orthodox, 156, 262 n 8, 269 n 31; relative gender influence in, 170-71, 269

297

Index n 30-31, 270-71 n47; governmental opposition to, 137-39, 140; governmental support for, 139-40; list of supporters, 14041, 255 n 26; overlap with Orthodox, 63, 66, 140, 153-56, 255 n 25, 262 E 13; petitions for and against, 136, 137, 138, 156, 254 n 5, 254 n 14, 262 n 12; precursors of, 135; prohibition of, 6, 134, 137, 138-39, 144, 177, 178-79, 188, 249 n 34; relationship to assimilation, 1S9_94, relationship to Haskala, 134, 143, 260 n 46, 262 n 9; and Sabbath observance, 258 n44; supporters of, 106, 107, 136; social composition of supporters of, 140-44, 256-60 n29-47 Reformgemeinde [reform community], Berlin, 180, 274 n 21 Reformed service: alternation with Orthodox service, 138, 255 n 18; supplemental, 13839 Reformkommission (on Jewish civil status, 178793), 78 Regular protected. See Ordinarii Religion de Berlin, 20 Religious observance, level of. See Dietary laws; Sabbath Religious practice, traditional, 15-16; and emancipation, 71, 76, 95-96 Rentiers, 59, 62, 217 n 17-18, 256 n 33 Residence patterns: 59, 202 n 35, 228 n 37; back streets, 18, 58, 87, 142, 202 n 38, 216 n 13, 228 n 37; and conversion, 129, 251 n 41; dietary laws and, 258-59 n 44; in 1744, 1718, 87, 142; Jewish neighborhood (Alt Berlin), 16-18, 87; Jews outside of Jewish neighborhood, 59, 129, 202 n 36, 251 n41; streets in Jewish neighborhood, 14, 16-18, 27, 59, 87, 142, 202 n 34, 202 n 38, 217 n 15, 228 n 37, 254 n 12, 255 n 16, 257 n 36, 257 n 39; of merchants guild members, 129, 251 n42; occupations and, 59, 216-17 n 13; Orthodoxy, religious reform and, 142-43, 257 n 36, 257 n39 Residence rights. See Population of Berlin, government restrictions on Ressource von 1794, 131, 269 n 33 Revolution of rising expectations, 76, 127 Richter, Jean Paul. See Paul, Jean Riess, Edel (ne'e Ephraim), 92 Riess, Hirsch Moses and Moses (silk manufacturers), 21, 28, 90, 92, 205 n 14, n 21; relationship to Ephraim family, 28, 92 Riess family: and communal offices, 32, 206-7 n 32; and conversion 262 n 7 Rights of Man, 82 Rintel, Dr. Ludwig Wilhelm, 41, 207 n 8, 263 n 17 Rintel, Edel, Family Fund, 172, 269 n 36 Ritual, Jewish: 95-96; abandonment of, 5, 5354, 71, 133, 214 n 63; and emancipation, 71, 76. See also Dietary laws; Sabbath Ritual bath, 178, 201 n 26

Ritual slaughterer. See Shochet Robe, clerical, 179 Robert(-Tornow), Ludwig, 236 n 17, 252 n 51, 266 n 5 Robert-Tornow, Rahel. See Varnhagen, Rahel Robert-Tornow family, 224 n 12, 235 n 7, 262 n 11 Romanticism: 70, 71, 102-3, 119, 186, 191, 221-22 n3; and Christian piety, 168; gender differences in adherence to, 162-63, 168, 170, 175; and the salons, 103, 104, 106, 108; views on sexual mores, 71, 108, 174, 236 n 19 Rosenstein, Rabbi Elhanan, 178, 271-72 n 2 Rosenstrasse, 18, 59, 87, 202 n 38 Rosenthaler Tor, 58 Royal court and palace: 4, 16, 19, 20; in Potsdam, 20, 53 Royal family, attendance at Jewish gatherings, 105, 108 Saaling, Julie and Marianne, 131, 235 n 12 Saaling, Rebecca. See Frohberg, Regina Sabbath: abandonment of observance of, 5, 53, 100, 133, 192, 233 n 42; and army service, 86; and legal emancipation, 71, 76; observance of, 15, 49, 142, 201 n 26, 258 n 44 Sabbatianism, 201 n 27, 207 n 29 Sachs, Israel Joel, 153 Sachs, Rabbi Michael, 180 Salons: 6, 50, 103, 104-10, 111, 144, 186; and conversion, 106-7, 108, 109, 111, 168, 236 n 16; definition of, 105; and discrimination against Jews, 110, 237 n 28; and divorce, 107, 111, 236 n 16; gender differences and, 105-6, 162-63, 172, 175; guests at, names of, 108, 235 n 13, 236 n 17; hostesses of (salonieres), 105-7, 235 n 12; hostility to, 109-10, 236 n 24-26, 237 n 28; and early marriage, 174, 236 n 16; and marriage to Christians, 106-7, 108, 236 n 16; men at, 108, 266 n 5; nomenclature for, 105; non-Jewish, 107, 110; sexual mores and, 108, 111, 119; social makeup of, 107, 108, 235-36 n 15, 236 n 17; in Vienna, 106; waning of, 6, 106, 109-10, 237 n 27 Salzburg, Protestant refugees from, 19, 203 n 45 Samoscz, Israel Moses, 21, 22, 37, 203 n 53, 209

n26 Sander, Sophie, 107 Sarbal [cloak], 44, 210 n 3 Satanov, Isaac: 34, 37, 38, 209 n 26, 232 n 30, 234 n 47; publications by, 40, 97, 208 n 13, 208 n 16, 260 n 46 Satire, 71, 80, 98-99 Schadow, Friedrich, 262 n 11 Schadow, Johann Gottfried, 106, 108 Schiffbauerdamm, 28 Schiller, Friedrich von, 108, 234 n 52 Schlegel, August Wilhelm, 72-73, 108, 221-22 n 3, 234 n 52

298

Index

Schlegel, Dorothea von. See Mendelssohn, Dorothea Schlegel, Friedrich von: 72-73, 108, 221-22 n 3, 236 n 19, 246-47 n 22; affair with Dorothea Mendelssohn, 108, 170, 173, 237 n 1 Schleiermacher, Friedrich: 102, 168; and Henriette Herz, 106, 109, 236 n 21-22; at salons, 108 Schlesinger, Liebermann, 155, 220 n 35, 224 n!2, 252 n l , 260 n 49 Schlesinger, Martin Johann, 155, 262 n i l Schmidt, Johann Andreas (David Ephraim), 92, 204 n 2, 236 n 16, 239 n 7, 246 n 21, 247 n 26 Schonemann, Dr., 34 Schonhauser Tor, 178, 179 School directors: 38, 179, 207 n 9; women as, 172, 269 n 37 Schools, Christian, 50-51, 52, 53, 180 Schools, Jewish, Christian students forbidden to attend, 140 Schools, modern, for Jews, 52, 53, 179-80. See also Freischule, Jiidische Schroetter, Freiherr von, 84, 225 n 18 Schuckmann, Friedrich von (Prussian interior minister), 138, 139 Schulmantel. See Sarbal Schutzgeld (protection tax), 11, 12-13 Science: 34; and Markus Herz, 49, 105-6 Scribes, Torah, 35 Seal engraving, 13, 62, 222-24 n 11 Second child, right to settle, 13 Seesen, temple in, 136 Sefer Hamidot (edition of Aristotle's Ethics by Isaac Satanov): 97; subscribers to, 40, 260 n46 Self-teaching, 47, 51-52 Seminary, teachers and rabbinical, 179 Sendschreiben an die deutsche Juden (by David Friedlander), 47, 98 Separation of sexes in synagogue, 137, 138 Sephardic pronunciation of Hebrew, 138 Sermons: 136, 137, 138, 179; prohibition of German, 179; traditional Yiddish, 178 Servants: 49, 213 n 44-45, 215 n 7, 216 n 13; Jewish, 49, 56, 87. See also Maid servants Seven Years War (1756-63), 4, 21, 25-32, 37, 43, 52, 90 Sexual mores: 5, 71, 72, 103, 111-19, 186, 269 n 38; Haskala attitudes toward, 101, 113-14, 118, 240 n 10; views of, in Romanticism, 71, 108, 174, 236 n 19; and salons, 108, 109, 110, 111, 119. See also Illegitimacy; Extramarital affairs Shaftesbury, Anthony, Earl of, 22 Shamash [beadle], 14, 56, 178 Shire Tiferet (by Hartwig Wessely), 101-2, 208 n!3 Shochet [ritual slaughterer of kosher meat], 14, 56 Shohat, Azriel, 10, 198 n 1

Siach Be'eretz Hachayim (by Wolfsohn), 98-99, 208 n!3, 232 n 33 Silesia: annexation of, 19; migrants from, 126, 181, 194, 248 n 32, 270 n 44, 274 n 18 Silk manufacturing: 19, 21, 22, 28, 35, 205 n 14; decline in, 29, 89-90, 94, 205 n 14, 229 n 2; silk trade, 18 Silver: deliveries to mint, 13, 199 n 12, 226 n 28; refining, 28, 204-5 n 13 Sklov, Baruch of, 34, 40, 207 n 1 Social graces, gender differences in, 171-72, 269 n39 Socializing between Jews and Christians, 50, 104-10, 187, 189, 235 n 3-4. See also Salons Society for the Propagation of Christianity among the Jews, 140 Sofer, Rabbi Moses (Hatam Sofer), 195 Soldiers: and illegitimacy, 115, 242 n 23, 250-51 n 40. See also Garrison, military Spalding, Johann Joachim, 20 Spandauerstrasse, 16, 27, 87, 228 n 37; BeerJacobson temple on, 107, 254 n 12, 254-55 n 16 Specially protected. See Extraordinarii Stael, Madame Germaine de, 108 State, Haskala attitudes toward, 71, 82, 96, 22224 n 11 Statues, 27, 28 Stein, Freiherr vom, 84 Stern, Sigismund, 274 n 21 Stieglitz, Jente Ephraim (and Dr. Stieglitz), 236 ' n 16, 268 n 28 Stock exchange, 29, 131, 252 n49 Stores, retail (Laden), 18 Stralauerstrasse, 59, 142, 257 n 36, 257 n 39 Stralsund, 130 Strausberg, traditionalism in, 67, 221 n 43 Students: 59; and conversion, 126, 249 n 33, 249 n35, 250-51 n40; medical, 51, 213 n47 Sturm und Drang literature, 163 Subscribers to Haskala works, 101; family patterns of, 152, 153; and later conversion, 157-58, 189, 264 n 23, 263 n 16, 263 n 18; and later Orthodox and Reform supporters, 144, 156, 2CO n 46, 262 n 9; social distribution of, 39-40, 66, 208 n 18-21; lists of, 7, 197 n 5 Subsidies and monopolies for manufacturers, 29 Sukka, 53, 62 Sulzer, Johann Georg, 20 Surveyors, right to be, 140 Swedes, 105, 130 Synagogues: disputes about, 16; on Heidereutergasse, 14, 18, 59, 142, 180; private (minyanim), 15, 16, 27, 64, 65, 9091, 137-38, 178, 200 n 22, 254 n 12; repairs to, 138, 255 n 16. See also Beer-Jacobson Temple Talmud, erudition in, 15; ethos of, 34, 97; instruction in, 50, 51, 52, 97; at yeshiva, 65, 135

Index Talmud study house: Ephraim family foundations, 63, 209 n 26. See also Beth Hamidrash Talmud Torah [society to aid poor students]: 14 64-65, 220 n 37, 221 n 42; conflict with Reformers, 118, 135-36, 252-53 n 3 Taufepidemie [epidemic of baptisms], 6, 73, 120, 122, 124, 191; why absent elsewhere?, 191-94. See also Conversion Tausk, Lipman. See Wulff, Liepmann Meyer Taxation, communal, 14, 216 n 9, 224 n 13, 247 n27. See tlso Erech Taxation, governmental, 14, 79, 80, 200 n 21 Taxation, special, 11, 12-13, 78, 199 n 10; abolition of, 85, 222 n 8 Tax lists, 7, 12, 94, 112, 123. See also Income levels Taxpayers, modest, 59, 62 Teachers, 36, 38, 216 n 13, 228 n 38; and conversion, 126, 250-51 n 40; and religious reform, 142, 256 n 33. See also Tutors Teaching positions, right to governmental, 85, 126, 140, 226 n 30, 249 n 34 Teller, Dean (Probst) Wilhelm Abraham: 20; letter to, by David Friedlander (1799), 6, 83, 93-94, 102, 120, 187, 244 n 2 Temple: in Jerusalem, 134; liberal, on Oranienburgerstrasse, 180, reformed, in Seesen, 136. See also Beer-Jacobson Temple Textbooks, elementary, 37, 52 Theater: 20, 28, 63, 172; boxes at, 48, 105, 173; Jewish attendance of, 48-49, 213 n 41; performances at salons, 105 Tiergarten (park), 49 Tischgesellschaft, Christlich-teutsche. See Christlich-teutsche Tischgesellschaft Toleranzpatent (Austria), 222 n 1 Tovim [assistant elders], 14, 31, 205 n 23, 205-6 n 24, 206 n 28 Traditionalism: attacks on, 71, 98-100; decline in, 65-66, 177-78, 196; milieu of, in Berlin, 15-16, 21, 43-44, 62-67; seen as "real Judaism," 192; and responsibility for the crisis, 190-91. See also Orthodoxy Treasurers, communal (Govim), 14, 230 n 18 Tugendbund, 108-9 Tutors, 36, 39, 50, 51, 52, 53, 107, 240 n 10 Unger, Friederike Helene, 107 Uniforms, for servants, 49, 213 n 45 University, Jewish students at, 50-51 Unmarried persons, 56, 215 n 7 Unter den Linden, 49, 129, 251 n 42 Urquijo, Don Raphael d', 236 n 20 Varnhagen von Ense, Karl August: 106, 268 n 28; and Cohen family, 93, 107, 130, 243 n 30; at salons, 108

299

Varnhagen, Rahel: 104, 110, 236 n20, 252 n 46; conversion of, 106, 160-61; intellectual role of, 106; salon of, 106, 110, 235 n 13, 237 n 27 Veit, Dorothea. See Mendelssohn, Dorothea Veil, Juda, 32, 206 n 30, 250 n 39 Veit, Moritz, 274 n 20 Veit, Philipp (son of Simon and Dorothea), 130, 170, 236 n 17, 268 n 27 Veit, Salomon, 206 n 30, 254 n 10 Veit, Simon, 32, 108, 130, 173, 237 n 1, 266 n 7, 274-75 n 2 Veitel, Ephraim, 219 n 32 Velvet manufacturing, 21, 28, 205 n 14 Verein fur Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden: 7-8, 144-46; journal of, 145-46; membership of, 145, 260 n 48 Vienna: migrants from, 10, 16, 90; salons in, 106 Vilna Gaon, 34 Voltaire, 20 Vorderhaus [front house], 59, 217 n 16 Warburg, Meyer, 39, 49 Wealth distribution. See Income levels Wechsler. See Money changer Wednesday Society, 172 Werther, Sorrows of Young, 163 Wessely, Bernhard, 233 n42, 263 n 17 Wessely, Hartwig: 37, 39, 100, 207 n 2, 207 n 6; and Hame'assef, 97; Chikkur Hadin by, 101, 231 n 28, 234 n 50; Conservatism of, 5, 38, 53, 62, 96, 97, 101-2, 147, 231 n 26; Divre Shalom Ve'emet by, 38, 97, 99, 207 n 33; Shire Tiferetby, 101-2, 208 n 13 Westphalia, Jewish consistory of, 84, 136; kingdom of, 136 West Prussia: 86, 227 n 34; annexation of, 19; migrants from, 126, 181-82, 194, 274 n 18 Weyl, Rabbi Meyer Simcha (Simon): 66, 179; conflict with reformers, 137, 138, 178, 252-53 n3, 254 n 10-11 Widows, 56, 270-71 n47 Wigs, wearing of, 21, 45, 65, 210 n 7 Wissenschaft des Judentums, 177. See also Verein fur Cultur und Wissenschaft des Judentums Woellner, Johann Christoph von, 102 Wohlwill, Immanuel (Wolf), 145-46 Wolff, Christian von, 22, 69, 71, 102, 221 n 2 Wolff, Dr. Jeremias 220 n 40 Wolff, Sabbathia Joseph, 82, 99 Wolfsohn, Aron Halle: 97, 147, 187, 207 n 9, 232 n 29; Leichtsinn und Frommelei by, 101, 113, 208 n 13, 240 n 10; Siach Be'ereti Hachayim by, 98-99, 208 n 13, 232 n 33 Wool trade, 13 Women. See also Gender differences: in (Jewish) communal records, 173; costume of, 44, 46; influence on ideological affiliation of, 106,

300

Index

Women (continued) 170-71, 268-69 n 29-32; organizations for, 172, 269 n 34, 269 n 36; as "pioneers" of conversion, 165, 167, 175; role of, in Romanticism, 162-63, 168, 170, 175; role of, in salons, 6, 104-10, 162, 163, 175, 236 n 17; in synagogue service, 171, 254 n 11; as school directors, 172, 269 n 37; and virtue, 109-10 Workhouse, 58 Wulff, Benjamin Elias (cotton manufacturer), 21 Wulff, Benjamin Isaac, 153, 239 n 6 Wulff, Isaac Benjamin (cotton manufacturer): 29, 90, 153; as communal officeholder, 31, 250 n 39; relative of the Itzigs, 29, 31, 153, 208 n21 Wulff, Jacob, 239 n 6 Wulff, Liepmann Meyer: and campaign for emancipation, 78, 83, 225 n 22; and Orthodoxy, 65, 72, 78, 90-91, 93-94; communal elder, 91, 93, 135, 201 n28, 229

n7, 252 n 1; economic rise of, 90-91; relatives of, 91, 93, 107; subscriptions to Haskala works by, 229 n 5 Wulff, Marianne and Sara, 246 n 21 Yarmulka. See Headdress Yeshivas, 171; students at, 65, 135, 252-53 n 3 Yesod Olom (by Baruch of Sklov), subscribers to, 40 Yiddish: accents, 34, 178; in communal records, 21, 211-12 n 19-25; opposition to, by Haskala, 33, 96, 98; prohibition in ledgers, 85; transition to German of, 21, 22, 46-47, 21112 n 19-27; use of, 178, 221 n 43, 222-24 n 11, 240 n 10 Zempelburg (West Prussia), 86, 227 n 33-34 Zunz, Leopold, 145-46, 180, 260 n 47-48 Zwicker [beard trimmer; in accordance with Jewish religious law], 46, 62, 210 n 15, 223 n 11