Studies on Steinschneider Studies in Jewish History and Culture

Edited by Giuseppe Veltri

Editorial Board Gad Freudenthal Alessandro Guetta Hanna Liss Ronit Meroz Reimund Leicht Judith Olszowy-Schlanger David Ruderman

VOLUME 33

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.nl/sjhc Studies on Steinschneider

Moritz Steinschneider and the Emergence of the Science of Judaism in Nineteenth-Century Germany

Edited by Reimund Leicht and Gad Freudenthal

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2012 This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Studies on Steinschneider : Moritz Steinschneider and the emergence of the science of Judaism in nineteenth-century Germany / edited by Reimund Leicht and Gad Freudenthal. p. cm. — (Studies in Jewish history and culture ; vol. 33) “Most of the contributions included in this volume are expanded and revised versions of papers delivered at the conference: “Moritz Steinschneider (1816–1907) : bibliography and the study of cultural transfer. A Centennial Conference”, held on 20–22 November 2007 at the Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz in Berlin” Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-90-04-18324-7 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Steinschneider, Moritz, 1816–1907— Knowledge—Judaism—Congresses. 2. Judaism—Germany—History—19th century— Congresses. I. Leicht, Reimund. II. Freudenthal, Gad.

BM316.S78 2012 305.892’4043092—dc23 2011022963

ISSN 1568-5004 ISBN 978 90 04 18324 7

Copyright 2012 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher.

Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. CONTENTS

Preface and Acknowledgments ...... ix Abbreviations ...... xi List of Contributors ...... xiii

Introduction: Studying Moritz Steinschneider ...... xv Reimund Leicht and Gad Freudenthal

I. A JEWISH SCHOLAR IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY EUROPE

1. Moritz Steinschneider: The Vision Beyond the Books ...... 3 Ismar Schorsch

2. “Your Loving Uncle”: Gideon Brecher, Moritz Steinschneider and the Moravian Haskalah ...... 37 Michael L. Miller

3. Leopold Zunz and Moritz Steinschneider: Wissenschaft des Judentums as a Struggle against Ghettoization in Science ..... 81 Céline Trautmann-Waller

4. Moritz Steinschneider’s Notion of Encyclopedias ...... 109 Arndt Engelhardt

5. From Dialektik to Comparative Literature: Steinschneider’s ‘Orientalism’ ...... 137 Irene E. Zwiep

6. Moritz Steinschneider’s Concept of the History of Jewish Literature ...... 151 Reimund Leicht

7. Moritz Steinschneider and the Noble Dream of Objectivity ...... 175 Nils Roemer vi contents

8. The Aim and Structure of Steinschneider’s Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters. The Historiographic Underpinnings of a Masterpiece and Their Untoward Consequences ...... 191 Gad Freudenthal

9. Steinschneider and the Irrational: A Bibliographical Struggle against the Kabbalah ...... 213 Giulio Busi

10. Steinschneider’s Interstitial Explanation of Magic ...... 233 Giuseppe Veltri

II. THE FATHER OF HEBREW BIBLIOGRAPHY

11. Moritz Steinschneider and the Discipline of ‘Hebrew Manuscripts Study’ ...... 249 Judith Olszowy-Schlanger

12. Moritz Steinschneider and the Leiden Manuscripts ...... 263 Jan Just Witkam

13. Creating a New Literary Genre: Steinschneider’s Leiden Catalogue ...... 277 Steven Harvey and Resianne Fontaine

14. Steinschneider’s Manuscripts ...... 301 Benjamin Richler

15. Aron Freimann and the Development of Jewish Bibliography in Germany in the 20th Century ...... 319 Rachel Heuberger

16. A Living Citizen in a World of Dead Letters: Steinschneider Remembered ...... 339 Avriel Bar-Levav contents vii

III. THE STUDY OF MEDIEVAL LITERATURE, PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE

17. Moritz Steinschneider and Karaite Studies ...... 351 Daniel J. Lasker

18. Moritz Steinschneider’s Contribution to Judaeo-Arabic Studies ...... 363 Paul B. Fenton

19. Steinschneider and Yiddish ...... 383 Diana Matut

20. Steinschneider and Italy ...... 411 Asher Salah

21. Mathematik bei den Juden, cent ans après ...... 457 Tony Lévy

22. Steinschneider as Historian ...... 477 Norman Golb

IV. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER IN CONTEMPORARY RESEARCH

23. The Genesis of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters 489 Charles H. Manekin

24. Genizat Germania. A Projected Comprehensive Electronic Catalogue of Hebrew Fragments Extracted from Bindings of Books or Archival Files in German Libraries and Archives ...... 531 Elisabeth Hollender and Andreas Lehnardt viii contents

V. DOCUMENTS AND TEXTS

25. Tracing Steinschneider in the Berlin Staatsbibliothek ...... 549 Petra Figeac

26. Der Aberglaube [1900] ...... 569 Moritz Steinschneider

Index ...... 593 PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The present volume of studies is devoted to the study of the life and work of Moritz (Moshe) Steinschneider (1816–1907). Its aim is to mod- ify the traditional view of Steinschneider as a “mere bibliographer” and to reveal further dimensions of his work and scientific personality. Most of the contributions included in this volume are expanded and revised versions of papers delivered at the conference: “Moritz Steinschneider (1816–1907). Bibliography and the Study of Cul- tural Transfer. A Centennial Conference,” held on 20–22 November 2007 at the Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz in Berlin— the former Königliche Preußische Bibliothek—where Steinschneider worked for over twenty years (1869–1890).1 Although held a century after Steinschneider’s demise, it was nonetheless the first conference entirely devoted to this pioneering giant of medieval literary history. So, too, the present volume is the first ever to focus on Steinschneider and his scientific achievements. Felicitously, the centenary of Steinschneider’s death was also marked by a conference held at the Jewish National Library in Jeru- salem (16 January 2008). It will be followed by a special issue of the scholarly periodical Pe{amim dedicated to Steinschneider (no. 129–130 [2011–12]). The editor of Pe{amim, Avriel Bar-Levav, and the editors of the present volume have cooperated closely and the two publications complement one another (although, naturally, the two groups of authors overlap somewhat). We are very grateful to all of the institutions that made our conference possible: the Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz in Berlin, where the conference was held; the University Library, Frankfurt am Main and the University of Halle-Wittenberg, each of which handled a part of the administrative work. The Thyssen Foundation deserves our particular gratitude for its generous support of the conference.

1 Very regrettably, owing to a series of unfortunate misunderstandings, the seminal paper by Gerhardt Endress presented at the conference did not ﬁnd its way into the present volume. It has been published as: “Kulturtransfer und Lehrüberlieferung. Moritz Stein- schneider (1816–1907) und ‘Die Juden als Dolmetscher’,” Oriens 39 (2011): 59–74. x preface and acknowledgments

No less are we indebted to all the members of the Organizing Com- mittee of the conference.2 In particular, we acknowledge our special and warm indebtedness to Dr Rachel Heuberger (University Library, Frankfurt am Main) who contributed in manifold ways to the preparation and carrying out of the conference. Last but not least, we extend sincere thanks to the contributors to this volume for their articles: we are conﬁdent that taken together, inasmuch as a whole is greater than the sum of its parts, they will help to bring about a change in scholarly perception of Steinschneider.

Jerusalem-Paris-Geneva Reimund Leicht and Gad Freudenthal

2 Members: Hans Hinrich Biesterfeldt (University of Bochum), Petra Figeac (Staats- bibliothek zu Berlin), Gad Freudenthal (CNRS, Paris; Chair), Rachel Heuberger (Uni- versity Library, Frankfurt am Main), Reimund Leicht (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem), and Giuseppe Veltri (University of Halle-Wittenberg). ABBREVIATIONS OF WORKS BY MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER

AE “Allgemeine Einleitung in die jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters,” JQR XV–XVII (1903–05). Alf. Alfarabi. Des Arabischen Philosophen Leben und Schriften, etc. (St. Petersburg: Académie Impériale des Sci- ences, 1869). Arab. Lit. Die Arabische Literatur der Juden (Frankfurt am Main: Kauffmann, 1902). Arab. Üb. Die Arabischen Übersetzungen aus dem Griechischen (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1889–96). Cat. Berlin Verzeichniss der Hebräischen Handschriften der Königlichen Bibliothek zu Berlin (Berlin: Asher, 1878–1897). Cat. Hamburg Catalog der Hebräischen Handschriften in der Stadtbibliothek zu Hamburg (Hamburg: Otto Meissner 1878). Cat. Leiden Catalogus Codicum Hebræorum Bibliothecæ Academiæ Lug- duno-Batavæ (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1858). Cat. Munich Die Hebräischen Handschriften der Königlichen Hof- und Staatsbibliothek in München (Munich: Palm, 1875; ²1895). CB Catalogus Librorum Hebræorum in Bibliotheca Bodleiana (Berlin: Friedlaender, 1852–60). Ges. Schr. Gesammelte Schriften, ed. by Henry Malter and Alex- ander Marx, vol. 1 (Berlin: Poppelauer, 1925). Geschichtsliteratur Die Geschichtsliteratur der Juden in Druckwerken und Hand- schriften, vol 1: Bibliographie der hebräischen Schriften [the only pub. vol.] (Frank furt a.M.: Kauffmann, 1905). HB Hebräische Bibliographie, ed. M. Steinschneider (vols. 1–8 [1858–64] and 9–21 [1869–82]). HÜ Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (Berlin: Kommissionsverlag des Bibliographischen Bureaus, 1893). JL/G Jüdische Literatur, in J. S. Ersch und J. G. Gruber, Allge- meine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, section ii, part 27, pp. 357–471 (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1850). xii abbreviations of works by moritz steinschneider

JL/E Jewish Literature from the Eighth to the Eighteenth Century, trans. by William Spottiswoode (London: Longman, Brown, Green, Longmans & Roberts, 1857). JL/H Sifrut Yisrael, trans. by Henry Malter (Warsaw: Aiasaf, 1897). Pol. Lit. Polemische und Apologetische Literatur in Arabischer Sprache Zwischen Muslimen, Christen und Juden (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1877). Pseud. Lit. Zur Pseudepigraphischen Literatur, Insbesondere der Geheimen Wissenschaften des Mittelalters. Aus Hebräischen und Arabischen Quellen (Berlin: Asher, 1862). Vorlesungen Vorlesungen über die Kunde hebräischer Handschriften, deren Samm- lungen und Verzeichnisse, Beiheft zum Centralblatt für Biblio- thekswesen 19 (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1897).

OTHER ABBREVIATIONS

JQR Jewish Quarterly Review JSQ Jewish Studies Quarterly JTSA Jewish Theological Seminary of America PAAJR Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research RÉJ Revue des études juives ZDMG Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Avriel Bar-Levav, The Open University of Israel (Israel)

Giulio Busi, Freie Universität Berlin (Germany)

Arndt Engelhardt, Simon Dubnow Institute for Jewish History and Culture, Leipzig (Germany)

Paul B. Fenton, Université de Paris-Sorbonne, Paris (France)

Petra Figeac, Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin (Ger- many)

Resianne Fontaine, Universiteit van Amsterdam (Netherlands)

Gad Freudenthal, CNRS, Paris, and Université de Genève (France/ Switzerland)

Norman Golb, University of Chicago (USA)

Steven Harvey, Bar Ilan University, Ramat Gan (Israel)

Rachel Heuberger, Universitätsbibliothek Johann Christian Sencken- berg, Frankfurt/Main (Germany)

Elisabeth Hollender, Ruhr-Universität Bochum (Germany)

Daniel J. Lasker, Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, Beer Sheva (Israel)

Andreas Lehnardt, Johannes Gutenberg-Universität, Mainz (Ger- many)

Reimund Leicht, Hebrew University, Jerusalem (Israel)

Tony Lévy, CNRS, Paris (France) xiv list of contributors

Charles H. Manekin, University of Maryland (USA)

Diana Matut, Martin-Luther-Universität Halle-Wittenberg (Germany)

Michael L. Miller, Central European University, Budapest (Hungary)

Judith Olszowy-Schlanger, École Pratique des Hautes Études, Sciences historiques et philologiques/IRHT-CNRS, Paris (France)

Benjamin Richler, The National Library of Israel, Jerusalem (Israel)

Nils Roemer, The University of Texas, Dallas (USA)

Asher Salah, Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design, Jerusalem (Israel)

Ismar Schorsch, Jewish Theological Seminary, New York, and Leo Baeck Institute (USA)

Céline Trautmann-Waller, Université Sorbonne Nouvelle—Paris 3/ IUF (France)

Giuseppe Veltri, Martin-Luther-Universität Halle-Wittenberg (Ger- many)

Jan Just Witkam, University of Leiden (Netherlands)

Irene E. Zwiep, Universiteit van Amsterdam (Netherlands) INTRODUCTION: STUDYING MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER

Reimund Leicht and Gad Freudenthal

Moritz (Moshe) Steinschneider (1816–1907) is probably the most oft- quoted scholar of nineteenth-century Wissenschaft des Judentums. In many branches of Jewish studies, serious research still cannot be done without constant reference to Steinschneider’s innumerable monographs, library catalogues, articles, and reviews. Notwithstanding the acknowledgment of his invaluable contribution to modern scholarship, Stein- schneider is probably also the least studied of all the central figures that shaped Jewish studies during the nineteenth century. Whereas the other major scholars of the Wissenschaft des Judentums, notably Leopold Zunz (1794–1886) and Heinrich Graetz (1817–1891), have received intensive scholarly attention, not a single comprehensive monograph or volume of essays has been dedicated to the man to whom Jewish studies in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries owe more than to anyone else. Using Steinschneider for the study of Jewish history and literature is a must, but studying Steinschneider himself is a rarity. Reasons for this formidable lack of scholarly interest in Steinschneider are not hard to find. Steinschneider’s work often seems to consist of endless listings of often highly valuable but unreadable biographical and bibliographical information. His dry and factual style, occasionally interspersed with ironic remarks on the objects of his study and sarcastic attacks on earlier scholarship, keeps readers away from a prolonged study of his writings. Although Steinschneider wrote a few shorter essays that are more accessible, not a single one of his larger scientific works was written in view of being read continuously from the first to the last page. The essay “Jüdische Literatur” (1850); the Catalogus Librorum Hebraeorum in Bibliotheca Bodleiana (1852–1860); the catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts in the libraries of Leiden (1858), Munich (1875 and 1895), Hamburg (1878), and Berlin (1878 and 1897); and especially the monumental Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (1893) are essential reference books, but not tightly knit monographs with a continuous narrative. xvi reimund leicht and gad freudenthal

Steinschneider clearly shunned the literary genre of fluently written historical accounts and interpretations. His literary style went hand in hand with his preferences in historiographical matters: to large historical reconstructions he preferred well-established facts, raw materials painstakingly compiled and put at the disposal of the scholarly community for further research. Moreover, his books and articles are often obfuscated by a garbled manner of presentation, in part due to Steinschneider’s idiosyncratic working methods, and in part to the fact that the early Wissenschaft experimented with different scientific styles, methods, and literary genres. Furthermore, and perhaps most important, Steinschneider deliberately chose a style that concealed the motives behind his scientific work, his historiographical convictions, and the overarching aims that motivated and informed his scholarly work. These he never expounded systematically. Short remarks and allusions, rare and often scattered in unexpected places, are the only window into Steinschneider’s inner convictions and the ideological background of his gigantic scientific projects. Thus, when we think of Steinschneider, what often remains is the bare admiration in view of his breathtaking scientific productivity and knowledge and a respect for his scientific ethos. These feelings are, nonetheless, accompanied by a certain disappointment in light of his pedantry and his apparent wariness to draw general conclusions out of the mountains of facts he accumulated. The lack of interest in Steinschneider the scholar is not the result merely of his scientific style and mode of presentation, however. It is likewise the outcome of commonly held convictions concerning Stein- schneider’s relevance to us today; while there is unanimous agreement that his work remains the best possible quarry for scientific information and an indispensable research tool, most scholars believe that Steinschneider is uninteresting as a historical figure and, in addition, that in the beginning of the twenty-first century, his work poses no intellectual challenge nor can it be a source of inspiration. Scholars’ expressions of the highest esteem for Steinschneider’s work are thus often paired with a certain condescension, reflected, for example, in the image of Steinschneider as the “gravedigger” at Judaism’s “decent burial” (see Avriel Bar-Levav’s contribution to this volume). Even where the ideological insinuations behind this dictum (first pronounced by Gotthold Weil [1882–1960] and later propagated by Gershom Scholem [1897–1982]) are not shared, by and large Steinschneider’s work is perceived as dry historical scholarship, equally uninspired and introduction: studying moritz steinschneider xvii uninspiring. This is also the image of many of the other scientific works produced by the Wissenschaft des Judentums during the second half of the nineteenth century. Thus, the lack of interest in Steinschneider is part of the deep intellectual estrangement of contemporary research from the scientific culture of Steinschneider’s time. Paradoxically, modern scholarship seems to be rather more attracted to and sympathetic with the early Wissenschaft, with its strong ideological roots in the Enlighten- ment and in German Idealism (e.g., Leopold Zunz, Immanuel Wolf [1799–1847], Nachman Krochmal [1785–1840], the early Heinrich Graetz [1817–1891]), or to scholars who partook of the philosophical and ideological turn in the first half of the twentieth century (Her- mann Cohen [1842–1918], Franz Rosenzweig [1886–1929], Gershom Scholem). Thus, the initiative to publish the present volume of studies on Stein- schneider (as also the decision to hold the conference that preceded it) was much more than a respectful homage to one of the founding fathers of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. It reflects the conviction that Steinschneider’s gigantic scholarly work has more to offer than bare historical facts; that it is in fact rooted in a scientific agenda, one that may have become unfamiliar to contemporary scholarship but which nonetheless deserves to be carefully reconstructed and interpreted. The implication is that we must cease to regard Steinschneider merely as an inexhaustible treasure trove of historical and bibliographical information. Instead, the working hypothesis that underlies the present volume is that Steinschneider should be viewed as a first-rank scholar in nineteenth-century Europe who devoted his life to the promotion and realization of a specific concept of the scientific study of Judaism. We believe that the essays assembled in this volume confirm this hypothesis. They thus represent a first attempt to draw scholarly attention to the intellectual biography and scientific activities of Moritz Stein- schneider and to signal the continued importance of Steinschneider’s work for contemporary Jewish studies. * Part One of this volume contains ten papers that shed light on Stein- schneider’s intellectual biography as a Jewish scholar of his times.3

3 The most comprehensive biography of Steinschneider to date remains that of Alexander Marx: “Moritz Steinschneider,” in his Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1948), pp. 113–84. See also Petra Figeac: Moritz Steinschneider xviii reimund leicht and gad freudenthal

Born in 1816 in the Moravian town of Prossnitz, where a specific brand of the Jewish Enlightenment (Haskalah) flourished in the early nineteenth century, Steinschneider was exposed to a number of important intellectual currents. During the formative period of his life, his maternal uncle, Gideon Brecher (1797–1873), apparently exerted a considerable influence on Steinschneider’s early intellectual development. As Ismar Schorsch and Michael L. Miller show, Brecher’s ability to combine a high esteem for the Jewish tradition with a support of moderate reform in the spirit of the Haskalah and scientific ambitions inspired by the nascent Wissenschaft des Judentums, left lasting imprints of Steinschneider’s personality and thinking. Steinschneider’s academic training began in Prague in 1833, and from there he went to Vienna in 1836 to study Semitic languages. Of more lasting impact, however, were his encounter with the Oriental- ist Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer (1801–1888), with whom he studied at Leipzig in 1839, and his collaboration with Franz Julius Delitzsch (1813–1890). While Steinschneider’s passion for Arabic language and literature may have had its roots in earlier periods of his life, the scholarly exchanges with Fleischer were of particular importance, because they helped put Steinschneider in contact with leading Oriental-studies circles in Germany. Many of his articles and books on the history of Arabic philosophy and science, such as Zur Pseudepigraphischen Literatur des Mittelalters, insbesondere der geheimen Wissenschaften (1862) and Al-Farabi (Alpharabius), des arabischen Philosophen Leben und Schriften (1869) are the immediate fruits of Steinschneider’s active membership in the small but distinguished group of nineteenth-century German Orientalists. But Steinschneider was not only, nor even primarily, an Orientalist. First and foremost, he was a scholar dedicated to the agenda of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. Alongside his uncle Gideon Brecher, it was the contacts with Leopold Dukes (1810–1891), Michael Sachs (1808– 1864), and David Cassel (1818–1893) that brought him into close contact with that movement during his years in Prague and Vienna. The deepest and most lasting influence, however, was that of his paternal friend and colleague, Leopold Zunz. Steinschneider, who was twenty- two years Zunz’s junior, first met the latter in Prague in 1833, and the two men stayed in close contact until Zunz’s death in 1886. As Ismar

(1816–1907). Begründer der wissenschaftlichen hebräischen Bibliographie (Berlin: Hentrich und Hentrich, 2007). introduction: studying moritz steinschneider xix

Schorsch and Céline Trautmann-Waller demonstrate, the relationship between these two scholars was not only one of faithful discipleship, but above all one based on shared convictions and common scholarly interests. Both men deliberately chose as their main object of research the history of Jewish literature and both were reluctant to adopt in their works large theoretical constructs. Only on occasion did they borrow concepts or terms from Hegelian and other philosophies, and both eschewed indulgence in overarching theoretical speculations in favor of the sober and solid study of the literary sources. In addition, Zunz and Steinschneider were both convinced that the only appropriate institutional setting for Jewish studies was the secular university of the modern state and not Jewish religious institutions. In the intra-Jewish debates of the nineteenth century, both expressed strong reservations about religious reform. With time, they both also became increasingly skeptical about the prospects of political emancipation for the Jews and the fight against anti-Semitism. Steinschneider, it may be added parenthetically, was also the first to use the construction “anti- Semitic”: he did so in the context of his life-long critical engagement with Renan (a subject that unfortunately had to be left out of consideration in this volume), although he used it only as a common word, not as a concept.4 These similarities notwithstanding, in some respects the two scholars, who belonged to two different generations, also differed. In a certain sense, Zunz is still a representative of the age of Enlighten- ment and the transition to the age of Idealism, whereas Steinschneider belongs to the post-idealistic second half of the nineteenth century. Thus, the former concentrated his efforts on the study of traditional Jewish literature and did not have direct access to Oriental languages and literatures, whereas the latter’s greatest scientific ambitions and

4 Pointed out in Alex Bein, The Jewish Question: Biography of a World Problem, translated by Harry Zohn (Cranbury, N.J. etc.: Associated University Presses, 1990), pp. 594–95. In a review of an article by Heymann Steinthal (1832–1907) in which the latter takes Renan to task, Steinschneider comments: “With his characteristic incisiveness the critic [Steinthal] demonstrates the contradictions in Renan’s fundamental views and their unfruitfulness for scholarship and research. The more Renan’s brilliant dialectic and stylistic talent captivates the readers, the more necessary it is to expose the consequences—or, more accurately, inconsequences—of his anti-Semitic prejudices [seiner antisemitischen Vorurtheile] . . .” (quoted from ibid., p. 594; original in HB 3 (1860), p. 16 (§ 863). The term “anti-Semitic as a well-defined concept was first used by the German journalist Wilhelm Marr in 1880; see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Antisemitism#Etymology_and_usage. xx reimund leicht and gad freudenthal achievements lie precisely in the field of the study of cultural transfer, especially between the Muslim, Jewish, and Christian worlds. Also, from the outset Steinschneider was probably much less religiously attuned than Zunz was ever to become. Despite these differences, however, the scientific work of the two men can be seen as two complementary parts of one and the same project: the scientific study of the history of the entirety of Jewish literature—religious and non-religious. It is no mere coincidence that Steinschneider, who feverishly published studies on every subject that came his way, carefully avoided touching all the branches of Jewish literature that had been treated by Zunz in his classical studies on the Midrash and liturgical poetry (Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden [1832], Die synagogale Poesie des Mittelalters [1855], Literaturgeschichte der synagogalen Poesie [1865]). Steinschneider published his first scholarly articles in the late 1830s and 1840s, most of them in Jewish journals such as Orient (Leipzig, 1840–1841), Literaturblatt des Orients (Leipzig, 1841–1843), Ost und West (Prague, 1841–1845), Bild und Leben (Prague, 1844), Sabbath-Blatt (Leipzig, 1844), and Zeitschrift für die religiösen Interessen des Judentums (Berlin and Leipzig, 1844–1846), but also in non-Jewish publications such as Oes- terreichische Blätter für Literatur und Kunst (Vienna, 1844–1845), Serapeum (Leipzig, 1845–1870), and the Magazin für die Literatur des Auslandes (Ber- lin, 1845–1846).5 From 1841 onward Steinschneider also published books, mostly editions of Hebrew texts such as the Etz Æayyim of Aha- ron ben Elijah of Nicomedia (with F. J. Delitzsch, 1841) or the Ma’amar ha-Yiud, which he attributed to Maimonides (1846 and 1847). He also contributed introductions and appendices to the works of others, for example, to Hirsch Fassels Æorev be-Zion (a reply to Samson Raphael Hirsch’s Briefe eines jüdischen Gelehrten [1839]) and to Gideon Brecher’s Ueber die Beschneidung der Israeliten (1845). Although these publications already reveal Steinschneider’s enormous erudition, none of them shows the sovereign mastery of the history of Jewish literature that his later works bespeak. An important turning point in Steinschneider’s biography as a scholar occurred in the mid-1840s and is connected with two ambitious projects, of which one failed and the other was a lasting success.

5 Cf. G.A. Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Professor Dr. Moritz Stein- schneider,” in Festschrift zum achtzigsten Geburtstage Moritz Steinschneiders (Leipzig: Haras- sowitz, 1896), pp. V–XXXIX; the years in brackets indicate the period in which Steinschneider contributed to the respective journals. introduction: studying moritz steinschneider xxi

In 1844, David Cassel initiated, along with Steinschneider, the publication of a comprehensive encyclopedia of Judaism. Cassel published the description of the project as Plan der Real-Encyclopädie des Judenthums under his name only, but Steinschneider greatly contributed to it. It represents a first plan for an undertaking whose goal was to systematically present all the different branches of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. The Wissenschaft could date its birth to the establishment of the Verein für Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden in November 1819, and the two young scholars obviously had the feeling that after more than twenty years of scientific efforts, it was high time for a conspectus. As Arndt Engelhardt shows in his contribution to this volume, this project for a Real-Encyclopädie was met with much skepticism among other Jewish scholars and failed in its initial phase. The idea, however, of presenting the scientific results of the Wissenschaft in an encyclopedic format was to occupy Steinschneider for many more years and lead up to another project, which was to become an enormous success: this is his essay on “Jüdische Literatur,” included in Ersch and Gruber’s prestigious Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste. There can be no doubt that the composition of this comprehensive historical survey of Jewish literature was an enormous challenge, and one wonders what exactly qualified the young Steinschneider for this undertaking. And yet, after three years of intensive work (1845–1847), the essay Steinschneider presented was deemed more than satisfactory and the editors accepted the almost 120-page work without cuts. This was not only a personal achievement for the thirty-one-year-old scholar, but also a success for the Wissenschaft des Judentums in its attempts to gain respect for Jewish topics among non-Jewish audiences. And from a scientific point of view the essay indeed constituted a veritable quan- tum leap in the study of the history of Jewish literature. From a biographical perspective, “Jüdische Literatur” certainly laid the foundations for much of Steinschneider’s later work. There can be little doubt that some of the monumental books he published in the subsequent years, most notably his Catalogus Librorum Hebraeorum in Bib- liotheca Bodleiana (1852–1860), the revised edition of the English translation of the essay, known as Jewish Literature (1857), and the catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts in the libraries of Leiden (1858), Munich (1875 and 1895), Hamburg (1878), and Berlin (1878 and 1897), would not have been possible without the solid preparatory work done for “Jüdi- sche Literatur.” Indeed, the overarching scientific program underlying his great essay informs much of Steinschneider’s other works as xxii reimund leicht and gad freudenthal well, and it would hardly be an exaggeration to say that almost all of Steinschneider’s later publications are only footnotes to and expan- sions of “Jüdische Literatur.” This essay is indeed a perfect exemplar of some of the most fundamental characteristics of Steinschneider’s scientific personality: his relentless striving for comprehensiveness and completeness, his strictly historical and a-religious outlook, his dry and factual style, and his deliberate abstention from theoretical and philosophical speculation. “Jüdische Literatur” thus contained the seeds of Steinschneider’s life- long preoccupation with bibliography. It was Ismar Elbogen (1874– 1943) who (in 1926) was apparently the first to describe Steinschneider as the “father of Hebrew bibliography.”6 This characterization of Steinschneider, although presumably well-intended, is inadequate; it overlooks many facets of Steinschneider’s intense activities, including his theoretical engagement with the fundamental issues of the history of Hebrew literature. Presumably, Steinschneider himself would not have been flattered by the label “bibliographer.” Nonetheless, the label correctly captures one, the most palpable, facet of Steinschneider’s activity: Steinschneider indeed was the founding father of the scientific study of Hebrew bibliography. His great Catalogus Librorum Hebraeorum in Bib- liotheca Bodleiana (1852–1860), his catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts in the public libraries of Leiden (1858), Munich (1875 and 1895), Hamburg (1878), and Berlin (1878 and 1897), the surveys Polemische und apologetische Literatur in arabischer Sprache (1877), Die Mathematik bei den Juden (1893–1899 and 1905), Die arabische Literatur der Juden (1902), Die Geschichtsliteratur der Juden (1905), the monumental Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (1893), and innumerable articles and shorter notes, including especially those published in Hebräische Bibliographie (Ha-Maskir), which he founded and then edited himself between 1858 and 1882, are all major, lasting contributions to Hebrew bibliography and can be viewed as having laid its foundations. During his work on “Jüdische Literatur” Steinschneider was confronted with a problem that had already occupied scholars of the first and second generations of the Wissenschaft des Judentums: the problem of Judaism’s inner unity. In a sense, this problem had been created

6 “Moritz Steinschneider, der Vater der Hebräischen Bibliographie,” Soncino-Blätter 3/4 (1926), pp. 155–58. introduction: studying moritz steinschneider xxiii by the Wissenschaft itself. From its very outset, the Wissenschaft aspired to broaden the vision of what Judaism was. For most of its representatives, the object of the scientific study of Judaism could not be limited to traditional Jewish religion, exclusively identified with East- ern European talmudism. Other historical phenomena, forgotten or intentionally suppressed from the canon of normative Judaism, had to be rediscovered and integrated into Judaism as it was to be conceived and studied by the new science. According to this programmatic vision, nothing Jewish would be alien to the Wissenschaft: Philo and Hellenistic Judaism, the heritage of medieval Spain and of the other Muslim lands, Jewish philosophy from Saadia to Spinoza—all was to be included in its purview and in its concept of “Judaism.” The agenda of the Wissenschaft des Judentums was thus characterized by the scientific ambition to achieve a comprehensive and objective historical description of Judaism, free of religious prejudices and limi- tations. On a sociological plane, this broadening of horizons to include traditionally excluded cultural phenomena allured to the Wissenschaft numerous individuals who had been painfully estranged from Juda- ism; these could identify with such a re-defined Judaism, in which real or imagined historical precedents of non-canonical Judaism were given due attention and in which the scientific understanding of an all- encompassing, unified, view of Judaism gave balanced representation to all Jewish phenomena with all their historical contradictions and tensions. All this fulfilled the contemporary need to give Jews an ideal, a vision to strive for, a way of overcoming the frictions and dichoto- mies within contemporary Judaism and restoring unity. Ironically, however, this new broad concept of Judaism put its inner unity in jeopardy. If any and all expressions of Jewish culture—traditional religious as well as modern secular—are made the legitimate objects of the science of Judaism, then what is it that unifies Jewish culture? If ideational products originating in the most diverse cultures are all taken into consideration, then what circumscribes the unity of Juda- ism as a particular historical phenomenon? The answers to this pressing question were as many as the scholars who tackled it. Immanuel Wolf in his essay Ueber den Begriff einer Wissenschaft des Judenthums (1822) located Judaism’s unity in a Hegelian vein in the idea of monism and its dialectical development in history from biblical times to Spinoza. Abraham Geiger highlighted Judaism’s religious ideas and values, and Heinrich Graetz, in his brilliant essay Die Construction der jüdischen xxiv reimund leicht and gad freudenthal

Geschichte of 1846, identified the totality of Judaism in its national history. Steinschneider, too, saw himself confronted with this daunting problem. His approach to it is probably closest to Zunz’s, who in his essay Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur (1822) introduced the concept of a comprehensive history of Jewish literature; Jewish literature, taken to form a part of universal human culture, is construed as including everything that was written by Jews after the Hebrew Bible. As Irene Zwiep argues in her contribution to this volume, Steinschneider, too, repeatedly addressed the task of defining Jewish literature. In his early essay, “Jüdische Literatur,” his definition of his subject-matter was grounded in the idea of a “national” Jewish literature, an idea strongly indebted to the Hegelian concept of a dialectical historical development. In his later life, Zwiep further argues, Steinschneider gradually gave up this “Jewish Orientalism” and replaced it with a new approach more akin to what one might call a “comparative-literature approach.” In other words, the inner unity of Jewish culture founded upon the national paradigm became more and more suspect to Steinschneider and was gradually abandoned in favor of a more universalistic approach. Simi- larly, Reimund Leicht, in his contribution, analyzes Steinschneider’s concept of a history of Jewish literature, showing that it displays a growing impact of nineteenth-century positivism on Steinschneider’s thought. All throughout, Steinschneider’s scientific work was characterized by a strictly historical perspective and a clearly post-idealistic (anti- speculative) outlook. In his hierarchy of values, the goals of “scientific- ity” (“Wissenschaftlichkeit”) and “objectivity” assume a central place. Nils Roemer points out that Steinschneider’s “noble dream of objectivity” comes close to Leopold von Ranke’s (1795–1886) ideal of historiography, which presumed to describe history “as it really happened” (“wie es eigentlich gewesen”), rather than Heinrich von Treitschke’s (1834–1896) far more politically engaged approach. Steinschneider admittedly shunned explicit theoretical discussions, but nonetheless on occasion formulated his position on historical methodology. In this respect, one can even go so far as to say that in the debates raging in the mid-nineteenth century, Steinschneider did not side primarily with German historicism—be it of the Rankean or the Treitschkean brand—but with English positivism. In his Allgemeine Einleitung in die jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters he explicitly rejects the Hegelian “philosophical schematism” and the “political pragmatism” identified with introduction: studying moritz steinschneider xxv

Karl von Rotteck (1775–1840) to state that one should learn how to write cultural history (“Kulturgeschichte”) from Henry Thomas Buckle (1821–1862) and Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800–1859).7 This statement is a rare piece of information demonstrating that Stein- schneider’s methodology, far from being naïve, is rooted in a conscious and deliberate choice of an approach to historiography indebted to positivism. It is therefore not surprising that the criticism leveled against Steinschneider—he was taken to task notably for his firm belief in scientific progress, the emphasis on the collection of historical data, and the alleged lack of interpretative depth—parallels the criticism of positivistic historiography leveled by followers of the historicist school. Steinschneider’s distance from the historicist school that dominated German historiography in the second half of the nineteenth century, and his inclination toward positivism, are highlighted through a comparison with his great antipode, Heinrich Graetz. Although there is no scholarly consensus about Graetz’s indebtedness to German historicism, there can be little doubt that his monumental Geschichte der Juden (11 volumes, 1853–1875) is basically narrative historiography, close in style to the mainstream of historicism and concentrating on outstanding individuals who are taken to embody the spirit of their age. This kind of narrative historiography was anathema to Steinschneider, who sharply criticized Graetz’s magnum opus for its lack of scientific soundness.8 Contrary to what one would expect on the basis of Stein- schneider’s image as a pedantic collector of facts, Steinschneider not only criticizes Graetz’s history for factual mistakes and inaccuracies. It was of the very project of a “construction of Jewish history” that he disapproved. The critique Steinschneider leveled against Graetz shows that as a matter of principle he was more interested in the description of historical structures and facts (“Geschichte”) than in constructing overarching historical narratives (“Literatur”). Accord- ingly, some of Steinschneider’s methodological decisions in devising his own works may be interpreted as a conscious refusal to engage in historical narratives and the “history of great men.” A case in point

7 Moritz Steinschneider, “Allgemeine Einleitung in die jüdische Literatur des Mit- telalters,” JQR XV (1903), p. 312. 8 Steinschneider’s blunt critique of the 5th and 6th volumes of Graetz’s work was published in Hebräische Bibliographie 3 (1860), no. 17, p. 104, and 4 (1861), no. 22, p. 84, and was also expressed in private letters. See Reuven Michael, Hirsch (Heinrich) Graetz. The Historian of the Jewish People ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 2003), pp. 91–92 (Heb.). xxvi reimund leicht and gad freudenthal is his Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters; as Gad Freudenthal shows in his contribution to this volume, this monumental work deliberately follows a non-personalistic approach, a choice that may owe as much to Steinschneider’s deep-seated historical preferences as to practical considerations. It thus becomes clear that to be adequately appreciated, Stein- schneider’s approach to the study of the history of Jewish literature must be viewed in the context of his historiographical convictions. The latter, it turns out, are more complex and multifarious than may initially have been assumed and also to be more calculated and self- conscious. This applies also to Steinschneider’s approach to two additional historical literary phenomena: Kabbalah and magic. Stein- schneider has often been criticized for his disrespectful and utterly unsympathetic treatment of the Kabbalah. However, as Giulio Busi shows here, his interpretation of Kabbalah as irrational, deceitful, and fundamentally un-Jewish, as biased as it may be by ideological (i.e., rationalist) prejudices, is not one-dimensional at all. It is not only thoughtful but of considerable interest even for post-Scholemian scholarship. Similarly, Giuseppe Veltri shows that although Steinschneider rejected magic as superstitious, he struggled to comprehend it scientifically and depicted it as a sort of pre- or proto-scientific way of thinking. (We reprint below Steinschneider’s text on this topic that has been nearly unknown and inaccessible.) Such a reconsideration of Steinschneider’s goals and methods affords new insights into the domain for which he has been best known: that of Hebrew bibliography—the subject of Part Two of this volume. A fairly neglected aspect of Steinschneider’s engagement with bibliography is his interest in the material vessels of the texts making up this literature: manuscripts and books. As Judith Olszowy-Schlanger shows in her paper, Steinschneider was the first Jewish scholar to systematically apply the newly developed tools of paleography and codicology to the study of Jewish manuscripts. It is worth emphasizing that he goes beyond viewing manuscripts as neutral bearers of texts, considering them instead to be physical artifacts worthy of a scientific study of their own. This aspect of Steinschneider’s research again highlights his positivistic inclinations and his interest in the history of material culture. These characteristics are also apparent in the study of Stein- schneider’s manuscript catalogues. Jan Just Witkam sheds light on the genesis of the Leiden catalogue, which was Steinschneider’s first introduction: studying moritz steinschneider xxvii manuscript catalogue. Steven Harvey and Resianne Fontaine examine the goals Steinschneider set for himself in this catalogue and show that he broadened the traditional limits of the genre; he not only described the manuscripts, but read the texts they contain—mainly the philosophical and the scientific ones—and used them to advance the study of the history of Jewish thought. The Leiden catalogue thus became an important research tool for subsequent historians of medieval philosophy, like Adolf Neubauer (1831–1907), Ernest Renan (1823–1892), David Kaufmann (1852–1899), and many others. Steinschneider himself also collected manuscripts, although his collection was never large. Benjamin Richler describes the Hebrew manuscripts that Stein- schneider had owned at some point and identifies their present locations. The two concluding papers of the section on the “father of Hebrew bibliography” shed light on Steinschneider’s influence on scholars of the next generation. Rachel Heuberger studies Steinschneider’s relationship to Aron Freimann, the most important Hebrew bibliographer of the twentieth century. Avriel Bar-Levav brings to light forgotten testimonies on how Steinschneider impacted upon (then) young scholars such as Reuven Brainin (1862–1939), Arthur Biram (1878–1967), Marcus Ehrenpreis (1869–1951), and, last but not least, Gershom Scholem, an impact that led to the foundation of the Hebrew Bibli- ography Project. Steinschneider’s exceptionally broad scientific interests and his intensive study of manuscripts that had often not been read for centuries turned him into a pioneer in a number of fields of literary history. In many of his studies, Steinschneider went far beyond bibliography to formulate interpretations and hypotheses that were often adopted by later generations of scholars and are still accepted today. In the present volume, Steinschneider’s contributions to Karaite, Judeo-Arabic, and Yiddish studies are highlighted by Daniel Lasker, Paul Fenton, and Diana Matut, respectively. Similarly, Asher Salah describes Stein- schneider’s contributions to the study of Italian Judaism, elaborated in the context of strong ties with Italian scholars and literati. Tony Lévy highlights Steinschneider’s singular contribution to the study of the history of mathematics. Norman Golb analyzes, more globally, Stein- schneider’s role as a historian of culture. This third part of the present volume could easily have been enlarged and complemented by additional studies on subjects such as: “Steinschneider as historian of science,” “Steinschneider as historian of philosophy,” and many others. xxviii reimund leicht and gad freudenthal

This reflects not only his lasting contribution to various disciplines of Jewish studies today, but also invites a study of Steinschneider’s contribution to each of them in its proper historical context. The lasting value of Steinschneider’s bibliographic work is reflected in Charles H. Manekin’s project (described here) to translate into Eng- lish, update, and put online Steinschneider’s Die Hebraeischen Übersetzun- gen des Mittelalters. Another project, Genizat Germania, whose goal is the systematic investigation of fragments extracted from bindings of books or archival files in German libraries and archives, presented here by Andreas Lehnardt and Elisabeth Hollender, can in many respects be viewed as being conducted in Steinschneider’s spirit. The present collection of studies, dedicated to Moritz Stein- schneider—the man and his work—, aspires no more than to be a starting point for future systematic research leading up to a comprehensive intellectual biography of this outstanding nineteenth-century scholar of Wissenschaft des Judentums. Petra Figeac’s contribution demonstrates that the archives of the Berlin Staatsbibliothek have much material—literary and iconographic—to contribute to highlighting unfamiliar aspects of Steinschneider’s life and personality. Similarly, a number of contributors to this volume were aware that their subjects required the use of manuscript material. Any future in-depth study of Steinschneider will have to follow Steinschneider himself in drawing extensively on unpublished sources, notably those that are preserved at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York (which holds Steinschneider’s literary Nachlass). Only an intensive and systematic exploration of these untapped materials will yield a comprehensive picture of Moritz Steinschneider—a picture that will finally do justice to Steinschneider’s importance for Jewish studies. This takes us back to the question from which we set out: Is there a point in studying Steinschneider himself rather than studying Jewish literature and history with Steinschneider? Can such a study be more than a matter of repaying the debt most students of Jewish letters feel they owe Steinschneider? It seems to us that two reasons, at the very least, warrant a study of Steinschneider. The first is simple: through his immense influence on the course taken by Jewish studies in the twentieth century, Steinschneider has become a significant historical phenomenon in and of himself. He exerted this influence above all via his bibliographies and literary histories. Now, as argued above and confirmed by the papers grouped in this volume, Steinschneider’s introduction: studying moritz steinschneider xxix works resulted from an elaborate agenda and were informed by reflected historiographic convictions. Therefore, if we wish to understand the course taken by twentieth-century Jewish studies, we must seek to delve more deeply into Steinschneider’s background, formation, worldview, and mindset; these contributed to shaping us, scholars of the twenty-first century, into what we are. The light we will shed on Steinschneider will illuminate us, too. The second reason for studying Steinschneider is perhaps more complicated. It touches upon the question of whether Steinschneider’s work and scholarly agenda still can pose a serious intellectual challenge for Jewish studies today. Interestingly, not all scholars in the past saw Steinschneider as a detached scholar on whose work one can draw as a treasury of historical information without being confronted with fundamental questions about the nature, methods, and aims of Jewish studies. It was Gershom Scholem who acutely identified and formulated the serious challenge that Steinschneider’s (and Zunz’s) concept of Jewish studies posed to his own scientific self-understanding. In his epochal essay Mitokh hirhurim {al okhmat Yisraxel (“Thoughts about the Science of Judaism”), first published in 1944, he admits that the images of Zunz and Steinschneider have always attracted him: I do not think that their like exists in the Science of Judaism: neither in terms of the breadth of their knowledge, which is world-embracing— and perhaps it is this very breadth which prevented them from seeing in depth—and certainly not in terms of the power of their presentation, which is totally lacking. Jokesters used to say that Steinschneider never wrote a sentence with a noun, a verb, and an orderly sentence structure. [. . .] However, one finds something in these two scholars that is not to be found among any other scholars, neither in their contemporaries nor in those that followed them: namely, that they are truly demonic figures. These sober figures are unique in their generation in their total lack of sentimentality in the approach to the past. They do not serve up their novellas with a stew of empty or mediocre sentiments or empty enthusiasm; they speak to the point and only to the point, and this zealously matter-of-fact approach seems marvelous to us: at times annoying and cold, and at times refreshing and restraining. One finds in them the full measure of that spiritual asceticism which is demanded of the ideal scholar, and whose absence is so strongly felt in the generations of gush- ers which followed them. How much coolness is there in these temples of science. But this is only one, the brighter, side of Zunz and Steinschneider, since Scholem goes on to say: xxx reimund leicht and gad freudenthal

But they also have an intense Other Side. Suddenly, while reading their words, you feel as if you are gazing into the face of the Medusa, as if from among the half sentences and side comments something completely non-human gazes back at you and freezes your heart—a hatred which is not only of this world, a grandiose cynicism. And the stage changes, and you see before you giants who, for reasons best known to themselves, have turned themselves into gravediggers and embalmers, and even eulogizers.9 Gershom Scholem’s portrait of Zunz and Steinschneider is fraught with an unusual inner tension, and it is highly dialectical. Strong attraction and violent repugnance go hand in hand. It becomes clear that Scholem struggled with Zunz and Steinschneider, these taunt- ing demons, and they were a serious challenge for his own scientific agenda. Only on a rather superficial level can one find a simple answer to the challenge posed by Zunz and Steinschneider: “We sought,” Scholem says about himself and his fellow younger Zionist scholars, “to return to science, with all its strictness and without compromise, as we had found it in the words of Zunz or Steinschneider—but we wished to direct it toward construction and affirmation.”10 In other words, Scholem sought to integrate the historical study of Judaism into the greater project of Jewish nation-building, while remaining faithful to the highest standards of scientific objectivity. Such an aim, however, is not easily achieved, and Scholem was aware of this. Jewish studies, he believed, are in constant danger of relinquishing their scientific standards in favor of national rhetoric11 and sentimentality.12 For this reason, Zunz’s and Steinschneider’s scientific ethos, their struggle for

9 Quoted from Gershom Scholem, “Reflections on Modern Jewish Studies (1944),” in On the Possibility of Jewish Mysticism in our Time & Other Essays, edited and selected by Avraham Shapira, trans. Jonathan Chipman (Philadelphia/Jerusalem: Jewish Publica- tion Society, 1997), pp. 51–71, here on pp. 58–59. Originally published in Hebrew in Lua ha-Aretz, Shenat TSH”H, 1944/45 (Tel Aviv: Hotzaat ayyim, 1944), pp. 94–112, and reprinted as “Mi-tokh hirhurim {al okhmat Yisraxel,” in Devarim be-go (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1976), pp. 385–403; quotation from pp. 391–92. 10 Scholem, “Reflections on Modern Jewish Studies,” p. 68 (Devarim be-go, pp. 400–401). 11 Scholem, “Reflections on Modern Jewish Studies,” p. 70 (Devarim be-go, p. 402): “All of these ills have now assumed a national dress. From the frying pan into the fire: following the emptiness of assimilation there comes another type, that of the conten- tious nationalist phrase. Instead of religious homiletics and religious rhetoric, we have developed national homiletics and national rhetoric in science.” 12 Scholem, “Reflections on Modern Jewish Studies,” p. 70 (Devarim be-go, p. 402): “Have we destroyed sentimentality? It still walks among us, in new dress and in a new style, no less annoying than the original one.” introduction: studying moritz steinschneider xxxi scientific objectivity, will never become obsolete; they remain a challenge, invincible demons reminding modern scholarship of its scientific ethos. They are a vital remedy for the shortcomings of ideologically motivated forms of science. Translated into the vocabulary of contemporary discourse, Scholem touches here upon the sensitive issue of the uncertain role played by Jewish studies in constructing a coherent narrative of the history of the Jewish people and in criticizing such narratives. This question continues to be of outstanding relevance for Jewish studies to this day. In 1995, the noted intellectual historian Amos Funkenstein wrote that in the nineteenth century, “the historical-philological perspective constituted the backbone of the Wissenschaft des Judentums and sustained its branches.” In the late twentieth century, however, its status had been “eroded.” Funkenstein argued that this loss of authority of the historical- philological method and the consequent disappearance of a shared “master narrative” is reflected in a series of controversies among students of Jewish history that erupted in the 1990s. A polyphony of “voices,” each expressing a parochial outlook, replaced what once had been a unified vision. Funkenstein perceived this deconstruction of the shared vision of Jewish history as a destruction or elimination of the subject or the self, which he deplored: “There is no substitute for the self—neither in epistemology, nor in history, nor in life. [. . .] A coherent narrative is the mark of a subject’s identity. It even is the self, inasmuch as every self lives the narrative it shapes, not only in words but also in deeds: our narrative is our life.”13 Funkenstein’s diagnosis implicitly suggests that a move toward the reconstitution of a consensual narrative and a unified self is called for in Jewish studies. Although Funkenstein does not say this explicitly, the implication of his diagnosis is that the erstwhile “backbone” of Jewish studies, the historical-philological method, should be restored some of its former authority. Scholem would probably not have disagreed with Funkenstein—not in the sense that all students of Jewish history should become philologists, but that the creation of overarching (ideological)

13 Amos Funkenstein, “Jewish History among the Thorns,” in David Biale and Robert S. Westman, eds., Thinking Impossibilities: The Intellectual Legacy of Amos Funkenstein (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008), pp. 309–27, on pp. 310, 323. (This is the revised English version of the Hebrew original published in Zion 60 [1995], pp. 335–47). xxxii reimund leicht and gad freudenthal historiographic interpretive schemes has to be based upon and coun- terbalanced by a sober preoccupation with texts and facts. Would Steinschneider have welcomed this proposal? Probably not fully. Steinschneider, as we saw, was not an “objective scholar” in the naïve sense of the term. In his reconstruction of the history of Jewish culture, he was guided both by historiographic concepts that informed his thought and by historical narrative. In thus balancing historiographic thought with positive, factual research, he parallels Scholem and Funkenstein. But in a dialogue with both Scholem and Funken- stein, Steinschneider would probably always have warned us that the study of history should never become the handmaiden of preconceived ideas. The study of history is a critical enterprise that should not serve religious, ideological, or political interests. This was Steinschneider’s “noble dream of objectivity,” which made him a strong skeptic with respect to the beneﬁcial effects of the Wissenschaft des Judentums for the “Jewish cause.” Does this render Steinschneider’s approach to history obsolete for modern research? Certainly not. To be sure, historical research in the twenty-ﬁrst century will not be able to emulate Steinschneider; it will do many things differently than they were done in the nineteenth century. But Steinschneider’s ideal of objectivity remains a critical force in scholarly discourse; the spirit of objective and critical science, this invincible demon, is still relevant to Jewish studies today. I. A JEWISH SCHOLAR IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY EUROPE 1. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER: THE VISION BEYOND THE BOOKS*

Ismar Schorsch

On February 13, 1848, Moritz Steinschneider wrote his fiancée, Auguste Auerbach, with a measure of relief that his pioneering essay Jüdische Literatur for the Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste (better known by the names of its editors as Ersch und Gruber) had been accepted uncut.1 He had not yet reached his thirty-second birthday. Since accepting the assignment, for which Leopold Zunz, his revered mentor, had recommended him, he had tried, as he wrote her earlier, not to waste “the opportunity to make clear for himself and others the totality of this grand phenomenon as an organic whole.”2 When published two years later, the book-length entry, far in excess of what had been expected, would earn him a doctorate in 1851 from the University of Leipzig with the aid of his former Leipzig professor of Arabic and now friend and supporter Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer.3 At the time, Steinschneider was thirty-five and a good dozen years behind the career trajectory of aspiring academics. This tight conceptualization and serried survey of a field both sprawling and inchoate bespoke the scholarly power and professional precariousness of its young author. The academic study of Jewish history and literature was to mature in Germany entirely outside its

* I would like to thank my friends Prof. Menahem Schmelzer, Prof. Raymond Scheindlin and Mr. Robert S. Rifkind for taking the time to read my manuscript and enhancing it with their comments. 1 Moritz Steinschneider, Briefwechsel mit seiner Verlobten Auguste Auerbach 1845–1849, eds. Renate Heuer and Marie Louise Steinschneider, (Frankfurt & New York: Cam- pus Verlag, 1995), p. 263. [Unless indicated differently all translations from the Ger- man are by the author.] 2 Moritz Steinschneider, “An Introduction to the Arabic Literature of the Jews,” The Jewish Quarterly Review (hereafter JQR) IX–XIII (1897–1901), IX, p. 224; Stein- schneider, Briefwechsel, p. 114. 3 Letter from Steinschneider to Fleischer, March 7, 1851, in the Royal Library Copenhagen, Ny kgl. Sam. 4o 2969 (hereafter RLC, Fleischer papers); letter from Fleischer to Steinschneider, March 11, 1851, in The Jewish Theological Seminary Library (hereafter JTSL), ARC 108, Fleischer correspondence. 4 ismar schorsch vaunted universities. Of all the polymaths who founded the Wissen- schaft des Judentums in the nineteenth century, none mounted a more sustained personal campaign to end that unwarranted exclusion than Steinschneider. The dominant figure of the second generation, he pursued a dual career as Hebraist and Arabist, studying the ramified nexus between medieval Jewish and Arabic literatures with a fervent sense of mission. In the process, he identified a corpus of secular Jewish writings, created a conception of Jewish culture free of the trope of persecution and discovered the vital role played by Jewish translators of the thirteenth century in transferring Greek knowledge from east to west. Consis- tently, over the span of sixty-seven years, he published his research outside the parochial organs of Jewish scholarship, gaining thereby eventually universal acclaim. Nor did he ever betray his conviction that the only fit institutional venue for doing Jewish scholarship was in that faculty of the German university that cultivated the humanities and not theology.4 While only a book can do justice to such singular accomplishments, it is possible to catch a glimpse of the coherence of the animating vision and the scope of the landscape by focusing on Steinschneider’s 1850 essay on Jewish literature, which in fact would serve as the ful- crum of his career.5 In the decades that followed, the conceptual grid remained firm even as the sum total of his knowledge grew almost exponentially.

Aside from Steinschneider’s own prodigious talents, his precocious essay can hardly be understood apart from the relationships he formed and the research he produced prior to authoring it. Though a stun- ning feat, it sprang from a fertile matrix.

4 Alexander Marx, “Moritz Steinschneider,” Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadel- phia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1947), pp. 112–84; Salo W. Baron, “Moritz Steinschneider’s Contribution to Jewish Historiography,” Alexander Marx Jubi- lee Volume, English section (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1950), pp. 83–148. 5 JL/G, pp. 357–471. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 5

Steinschneider spent most of the first three decades of his life in the Hapsburg Empire, where the onset of emancipation for its Jew- ish subjects had barely moved beyond the educational reforms of the various edicts of tolerance issued by Joseph II in the 1780s. The Jews of Prossnitz, his place of birth and Moravia’s second largest Jewish community, were still restricted residentially, economically and demo- graphically. In 1829, thirteen years after his birth, the Moravian government still enforced regulations dating from a century earlier, confining the 328 Jewish families of Prossnitz to a ghetto of 48 houses consisting of 120 apartments. It also burdened them with exceptional imposts and, worst of all, limited the right to marry to the first-born son of each family.6 In other words, Steinschneider came of age in an authoritarian regime with a medieval Jewish policy of separate and unequal. These early experiences of discrimination would freight for him the revolutions of 1848 with existential meaning and decisively color his mature views on politics and religion. The personality that influenced Steinschneider the most in Prossnitz was Gideon Brecher, who had married his mother’s sister in 1827. He always addressed him as uncle.7 Brecher had earned a master’s degree in surgery and midwifery from Pester University (Hungary) in 1824 and was Prossnitz’s first Jewish physician, where he practiced till his death in 1873. He was also a learned Hebraist with a solid command of Bible and Talmud. Like many a maskil who had grown up strictly traditional, he began reading German books only as an adolescent. In Prossnitz he helped to engineer the election of Hirsch Fassel in 1836 as its mildly liberal rabbi over the bitter opposition of Nehemias Trebitsch, Moravia’s staunchly Orthodox chief rabbi in Nikolsburg with whom Steinschneider had unhappily studied in 1832–33.8 More generally, Brecher advocated far-reaching institutional reform: namely graded and enlightened religious education for the young, university education for rabbis in training and rabbinic synods empowered by the government and guided by philosophic reasoning.9

6 Michael Laurence Miller, Rabbis and Revolution: A Study in Nineteenth-Century Moravian Jewry, Columbia University dissertation, New York 2004, pp. 25–32, 51–7. 7 Marx, “Steinschneider,” p. 113. 8 Moritz Duschak, “Gideon Brecher,” Die Jubiläums-Feier des Dr. Gideon Brecher in Prossnitz am 14. Jänner 1865 (Prossnitz: Ignaz Rottberger, 1865); Miller, pp. 74–8, 106–7. 9 Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums (hereafter AZJ) 1838, pp. 183–4. 6 ismar schorsch

The bonds that bound uncle and nephew are evident in a poignant letter dated June 25, 1833, from a distraught Steinschneider to Brecher in Carlsbad where he was enjoying a respite. Steinschneider, brainy (the letter was punctuated with Italian words) but callow, had come to Prague to start his university studies in October and found that he had blundered badly in his housing arrangements. His bed was too hard for sleeping, his roommates (six children and three adults) dis- tracted him day and night with their incessant recitation of passages they had to memorize for school and the ubiquitous filth of the room quashed his appetite. In this setting he could not study and his health had taken a turn for the worse. He yearned to seek refuge in the country and sought Brecher’s urgent advice on the proposition to serve as a companion to a gentleman headed for the country whom they both knew. Steinschneider was embarrassed to be so self-revealing, but his uncle had helped him often in the past. He pleaded with Brecher not to mention his plight to his parents.10 A number of the essays that Steinschneider wrote in the 1840s owe their patrimony to this relationship. In 1841, he reviewed at length a new edition of Judah Halevi’s famous Kuzari by Heimann Jolowicz and David Cassel, who were the first to translate the treatise into German. Steinschneider praised the editors for contextualizing Halevi within the Sephardi orbit and acknowledging that without the Judeo-Arabic original (which would be published only in 1887 and then faultily) many an idiomatic and linguistic conundrum of the Hebrew rendition by Judah Ibn Tibbon would elude its translators. Steinschneider was surely conversant with Halevi because his uncle had just finished publishing his own Hebrew edition with an extensive Hebrew commentary, though without a German translation. To his credit, Stein- schneider did not try to compare these very different endeavors.11 An 1845 essay by Steinschneider on the need for reference books to find one’s way in the Talmud was directly indebted to a manuscript acquired not long before by his uncle. Brecher had in fact had a copy of several sections made for him. Steinschneider conjectured that its as

10 JTSL, ARC 108, box 13. 11 Moritz Steinschneider, “Die neueste Ausgabe des Cusari,” Literaturblatt des Orients (hereafter LBO) II (1841), cols. 289–95, 331–3, 345–9, 537–45, III (1842), cols. 177– 82, 193–7, 209–14, 225–35, 673–81, 707–10, 811–16, 822–27; Gedaliah Brecher, Sefer ha-Kuzari (Hebrew), 4 vols. (Prague: M.J. Landau, 1838–40); Hartwig Hirschfeld, Das Buch al-Chazari (Leipzig: O. Schulze, 1887) (See Ignac Goldziher’s highly critical review in Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft [hereafter ZDMG] XLI [1887], pp. 691–707). moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 7 yet unknown author had completed the work in the second half of the eighteenth century. It bore the odd title of Sia Avdei Avot (The Dis- course of the Disciples of our Ancestors) and constituted an invaluable talmudic encyclopedia covering four types of data arranged alphabetically. Published in Serapeum, the journal for library science and archival studies, the essay gave Steinschneider a chance to introduce a non-Jewish readership to the complexity of talmudic literature and its inaccessibility to historical research due to the absence of scholarly aids. Both uncle and nephew bristled at the disordered state of the Talmud. After Brecher’s death, Steinschneider arranged to have the Royal Library in Berlin, for which he had recently begun to work on a regular basis, acquire the manuscript for its own collection.12 Finally in 1845, Gideon Brecher authored a tract on circumcision to which he had asked his nephew to add an appendix on the rite in Islam. Brecher’s intent was to persuade the Hapsburg authorities to forbid the practice of cleansing the wound by oral suction. Writing both as a student of Jewish law and a physician who had performed nearly 300 circumcisions, he contended that metzitzah was ancillary to the ritual itself and incontrovertibly a source of infection. The invitation to his nephew reﬂected Brecher’s longstanding interest in comparative religion. Steinschneider obliged him with a highly informative essay that didn’t quite make the deadline and had to be published separately.13 The Brecher initiative was clearly part of the raging controversy of the 1840s in the German states over the retention of an ancient rite of passage deemed by many to be primitive and barbaric.14 He, however, did not want to discard but rather enhance its observance by demys- tifying it, and therefore treated the subject historically, halakhically

12 Serapeum VI (1845), pp. 289–301; ZDMG LVII (1903), p. 475. By 1849, Stein- schneider had identified its author as a certain R. Eliezer of Kunitz, Moravia who composed his work sometime after 1770 (ZDMG IV [1849], p. 146). In his catalogue of the Hebrew manuscripts of the Royal Library, he listed the author as Elieser b. David Fried, but without further annotation (Moritz Steinschneider, Verzeichniss der hebräischen Handschriften, 2 vols. in one, reprint [Hildesheim & New York: Georg Olms 1980], II, pp. 17, 169). 13 Gideon Brecher, Die Beschneidung der Israeliten, von der historischen, praktisch-operativen und ritualen Seite, zunächst für den Selbstunterricht, dargestellt (Vienna: Selbstverlag, 1845); Moritz Steinschneider, Die Beschneidung der Araber und Muhammedaner (Vienna: Selbst- verlag, 1845). 14 Ismar Schorsch, From Text to Context (Hanover & London: University Press of New England, 1994), pp. 104–5, 276, 336. 8 ismar schorsch and medically. A final section even provided the Hebrew liturgy with instructions for the proper performance of the ritual. To be sure, Brecher was a rationalist like Steinschneider yet a far more harmonious personality with a genuine interest in religion, and not beyond studying its irrational expressions unapologetically. His lifelong study of medical data in the Talmud also induced him to explore with empathy related texts dealing with magic, dreams, the nature of the soul, life after death and gehinom.15 Brecher personi- fied for Steinschneider a proximate and elegant role model of a Jew immersed in sacred texts who brought to bear the questions, tools and perspectives of a new age in a radical departure that seemed sanc- tioned by the expansive culture of Sephardi Jewry. To help him on the topic of circumcision in Islam, Steinschneider turned to Fleischer, his former teacher of Arabic in Leipzig. In a long letter from Prague dated June 23, 1844, and composed in a near state of exhaustion from overwork (he was learning to swim to relax), Stein- schneider told him of his uncle’s request and the inadequacy of the sources at his disposal in Prague. Hence four questions: “Is there a specific sunna which calls for circumcision and how? Is circumcision already a religious injunction soon after Mohammad? Is there any sect which rejects it? And is age thirteen based on a text or custom as in places where it is done at age seven or eight?” Steinschneider added that he would make every effort to find relevant information in the Jewish sources available to him.16 Before reporting in his essay Fleis- cher’s conclusions—that circumcision is unmentioned in the Quran and seems to rest on a sunna rarely commented on, which may reflect the practice of Arabic tribes prior to Mohammad—Steinschneider thanked him for his “customary friendliness and generosity.” His own research, he added, led him to conclude that Mohammad may himself have been circumcised by virtue of the true religion of Abraham “that he espoused.” According to the sources, Muslims circumcise at various ages and not uniformly at thirteen, while at the rite the boy is bestowed with a name other than the one given at birth. Lastly, converts to Islam are required to undergo circumcision.17

15 Duschak, p. 14; Gideon Brecher, Das Transcendentale, Magie, und magische Heilarten (Wien, 1850); idem, Die Unsterblichkeitslehre des israelitischen Volkes (Leipzig: Leiner, 1857). 16 RLC, Fleischer papers. 17 Steinschneider, Die Beschneidung, pp. 18, 20–1, 23, 28. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 9

The collaboration betokened a relationship that would endure until Fleischer’s death in 1888. Remarkably, Steinschneider had studied with him for just a few months, having arrived in Leipzig in May 1839 only to leave the following October.18 In Vienna, where he had attended the university for three years, the government had denied him admission to its Oriental Institute as an auditor on the grounds that it was restricted to those young men preparing for a career in Austria’s diplomatic service. In Leipzig Steinschneider would finally decide, after some five years of philosophical and philological studies at the universities of Prague and Vienna and uninterrupted efforts to advance his rabbinic education, to embark officially on a dual career.19 Besides studying the Quran with Fleischer, Steinschneider undertook to write a series of eleven short entries for Pierer’s Universallexicon ranging over the field of Arabic language, literature and history and to produce a Hebrew translation of the Quran intended as an appendix to an Arabic primer in Hebrew.20 A year after he had left Leipzig, Steinschneider admitted ruefully to Fleischer in a letter introducing his friend Adolph Jellinek, who also wanted to study with him, that he had erred in departing so abruptly, “depriving himself of the benefit and value which flow so freely from your lectures.” Nevertheless, I constantly console myself with the lovely thought of yet another longer stay in Leipzig, and would deem my self fortunate, if you, your honor, would retain your affection for me, which I flatter myself as being the best memento (vademecum) I could have taken with me from Leipzig.21 A short stay in Leipzig, then, was all Steinschneider needed to impress Fleischer with his exceptional talent. In December 1845, Fleischer would voice his high regard for his former student directly to the Prus- sian Ministry of Interior. Following a second sojourn to Prague (this time for three years), Steinschneider had settled in Berlin and required naturalization in order to earn a living as a teacher. Fleischer obliged him with a strong letter of recommendation that attested his scholarship and character. The latter in particular, he averred, on the basis of

18 JTSL, ARC 108, box 15, “Kassa 1832–70.” 19 Ibid., “Über meine Vorbereitung für das Schulfach.” 20 Ibid.; George Alexander Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Professor Dr. Moritz Steinschneider,” Festschrift zum Achtzigsten Geburtstage Moritz Steinschneider’s (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1896), p. xxxiii; JL/E, p. 320 n. 48. 21 RLC, Fleischer papers. 10 ismar schorsch the time spent together, was marked by a harmonious blend of integ- rity, spirit, industriousness and erudition. In the heady atmosphere of Berlin, he would continue to grow morally and academically to the benefit of scholarship.22 Steinschneider wrote to his fiancée, working in Prague as a governess and to whom he had just gotten engaged, that the letter exceeded his expectations. Leopold Zunz could not have written a better one! He also told her that Fleischer was delighted with their engagement and instructed him to keep it brief.23 Fleischer had become the Professor of Oriental Languages at Leipzig in 1836. By then the university had slipped badly from the pinnacle it once held in the field during the brief tenure a century before of Johann Jakob Reiske, who resided in Leipzig but taught elsewhere than at the university.24 Fleischer would restore its luster and, indeed, set the standards for the field throughout Germany. At Leipzig as a student, Fleischer studied theology. By the time he had finished the gymnasium, he had already worked his way through all of the Hebrew Bible in the original, and his parents urged him to enter the ministry. But in 1824, with doctorate in hand, he went to Paris to study with Sylvestre de Sacy, then Europe’s premier Arabist, from whom he learned to put the literary language on a sound grammatical footing. He also deepened his knowledge of Persian and Turkish, gained command of spoken Arabic from Egyptian savants then in Paris and pored over the manuscripts in the rich collection of the Biblothèque nationale. He returned to Saxony in 1828 with an incipient national agenda.25 By the early 1840s, he began to take the lead in replicating in Germany two of France’s prestigious vehicles for promoting Oriental

22 Alexander Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” Salo W. Baron and Alexander Marx eds., Jewish Studies in Memory of George Alexander Kohut (New York: The Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1935), pp. 511–512. 23 Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, pp. 66–7. 24 Holger Preissler, “Der Koran in Leipzig,” Vorträge aus dem Studium universale 2003–4 (Leipzig: Universität Leipzig, 2005), pp. 14–6. I wish to thank Mr. Arndt Engelhardt of the Simon-Dubnow-Institut of Universität Leipzig for sending me a copy of this essay. 25 Idem, “Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer. Ein Leipziger Orientalist, seine jüdischen Studenten, Promovenden und Kollegen,” Bausteine einer jüdischen Geschichte der Univer- sität Leipzig, ed. Stephan Wendehorst (Leipzig: Leipziger Universitätsverlag, 2006), pp. 247–8; Ignaz Goldziher, “Fleischer: Heinrich Leberecht,” Gesammelte Schriften, 6 vols. (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1967–73), VI, pp. 193–5 (reprint from Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, XXXXVIII, Leipzig 1904, pp. 584–94). moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 11 scholarship, the Société asiatique, of which he was a member, and its Journal asiatique, in which he had already published.26 The founding conference of Die Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft took place in Dresden from September 30 to October 4, 1844. The forty- nine Orientalists attending elected Fleischer as their first president by acclamation.27 And during its first decade Fleischer worked tirelessly to increase its membership and sustain its Zeitschrift, which began in 1846. As he was nearing the end of his embattled tenure on the exec- utive committee, Fleischer shared in a letter to Steinschneider from March 2, 1852, the ethos that impelled him: You have no idea how stressed out I am. My motto to serve scholarship by furthering the work of others, I dare say, has estranged me from myself. If there were some other like-minded and respected souls, then it might work. But alone, I am overwhelmed by the demands made on me. I don’t want to bother you by enumerating the papers before me. It suffices to assure you that since the Berlin conference, I have not been able to add a single line to my Badawi index.28 Not only were Jews some twenty percent of the participants at the first conference of the German oriental society, but they delivered three of the fifteen papers given. Indeed, with Abraham Geiger and Zacharias Frankel opening the first session and Steinschneider closing the third, they served as its bookends.29 Steinschneider spoke last because Flei- scher had turned to him only when he realized that the conference suffered from a shortage of papers. Nor did Steinschneider, the only speaker without a doctorate (he was listed as a candidate for the rabbinate), betray the confidence of his teacher. His lecture and greatly expanded printed version sparkled with brilliance, obviously a work long in gestation. When it appeared a year later, he fittingly dedicated it to Zunz and Fleischer, “my highly respected teachers and friends . . ., a small token of my deeply felt reverence and gratitude.”30

26 Johann Fueck, Die Arabischen Studien in Europa bis in den Anfang des 20. Jahrhunderts (Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz, 1955), p. 150. 27 Verhandlungen der ersten Versammlung deutscher und ausländischer Orientalisten in Dresden 1844, Leipzig 1845, pp. 3, 76. More generally, Holger Preissler, “Die Anfänge der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft,” ZDMG CXLV (1995), pp. 241–327. 28 JTSL, ARC 108, Fleischer letters. See also his letter to Steinschneider of October 29, 1852. As for his work on Badawi’s commentary on the Quran, see Preissler, “Der Koran,” p. 21. 29 Verhandlungen der ersten Versammlung, pp. 76, 78. 30 Moritz Steinschneider, Die fremdsprachlichen Elemente im Neuhebräischen (Prag: W. Pascheles, 1845). 12 ismar schorsch

His lecture could not have been more suited to the occasion. It was both universal in spirit and philological in method. Steinschneider dismissed as purely ideological the question whether Hebrew had ever disappeared as a living language after the completion of the Canon or the demise of the Jewish state. The body of literature produced in Hebrew thereafter and throughout the Middle Ages deserved to be studied irrespective of ideology, and not only by Jews. It actually constituted a vast linguistic mine of the verbal remains of the languages to which Jews had been exposed in their wanderings. The deposits of Aramaic, Persian, Greek, Latin, Arabic, French, Spanish, Italian, German, Polish, Turkish and Hungarian words preserved in Hebrew embodied fossils vital to the students of these cultures. And to prove his point, he studded his text with many a fascinating example. The young Steinschneider then set forth a bracing vision of philology as a mirror of cultural reciprocity. With élan and erudition, he demonstrated that the seemingly parochial history of the Hebrew language was saturated with universal significance.31 Fleischer’s exceptional magnanimity toward Steinschneider extended as well to other Jewish students of Arabic and Islam, who either came to Leipzig to study with him or approached him with questions from afar.32 In 1841, he paid Geiger the honor of a lengthy review of his prize-winning 1833 book on what Mohammad owed to Judaism in the leading Jewish scholarly journal of the day. Fleischer was dubious that any single scholar could ever acquire a sufficient mastery of both Hebrew and Arabic and their respective literatures to do justice to such a complex subject, and his numerous corrections of Geiger’s faulty translations and etymologies highlighted the latter’s limited knowledge of Arabic, not to mention the faulty supervision of his Bonn professor of Arabic, Gustav Wilhelm Freytag, who had also studied with de Sacy. But the tone was respectful and constructive throughout, designed to advance and not quash the cause of interdisciplinary research rather than to embarrass the author.33 The next generation of Jewish students would serve to allay some of Fleischer’s doubts about the possibility of combining the fields. Besides interceding in Steinschneider’s behalf to secure his doctorate

31 Ibid. On the contemporaneous debate over Hebrew in the Second Temple period, see Schorsch, From Text to Context, p. 281. 32 Preissler, “. . . Fleischer . . ., seine jüdischen Studenten . . .,” passim. 33 LBO II (1841), nos. 5, 6, 8, 10, 12. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 13 from Leipzig in 1851, he provided the administration with glowing written opinions of the dissertations of Daniel Chwolsohn in 1850, Ignaz Goldziher in 1870 and Immanuel Loew in 1878. Throughout his career the prominence of Jewish students was noteworthy. Of the 131 doctoral promotions in which he was involved between 1866 and 1886, fifty-two of the dissertations had been written by Jews, lending credence to Steinschneider’s stinging comment in 1869 that without their Jewish students, university classes in “Semitic literature would be practically empty.”34 His commitment to the field most assuredly transcended the residual insularity and bigotry of the German university in its era of ascendancy. Without doubt, his most enduring act of selflessness was his more than twenty-year collaboration with Rabbi Jakob Levy of Breslau on his two monumental Aramaic dictionaries which Fleischer enriched with countless pages of philological addenda, a tribute to both men.35 In gratitude for Fleischer’s courageous independence, Steinschneider persuaded the board and academic council of the Zunz Foundation to invite him in May 1875 to join the latter to fill the seat left vacant by Geiger’s death the previous October. The foundation had been created in 1864 to honor Zunz on his seventieth birthday by providing him and his wife with a pension for life. Thereafter, the income of the fund would be used to promote the cause of critical Jewish scholarship to which Zunz had devoted his life.36 Fleischer would have been the first Christian to sit on the five-man academic council. As Steinschneider related to Fleischer a few days after the official invitation was sent: It is time that authentic scholarship rise above theological divisions. This was my reason for rejecting any involvement here in the so-called Hoch- schule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums. It will be just another Jewish

34 Preissler, “. . . Fleischer . . ., seine jüdischen Studenten . . .,” pp. 254–5, 262–4, 266; HB IX (1869), p. 77. 35 To the second, Levy’s Wörterbuch über die Talmudim und Midraschim, 2nd ed., 4 vols. (Berlin & Vienna, 1924), Fleischer added some 127 pages of Nachträge. His death in 1888 prevented him from reviewing Levy’s entries under the last letter (tav) of the Hebrew alphabet. In the posthumous tribute to Fleischer, Levy praised him for his rare combination of deep learning, noble character and genuine love of humanity (IV, “Nachwort,” p. 681). For a more expansive treatment of Fleischer’s seminal role in opening up the study of Arabic and Islam to Jews, see my recent essay “Converg- ing Cognates. The Intersection of Jewish and Islamic Studies in Nineteenth-Century Germany,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 55 (2010), pp. 3–36. 36 HB VII (1864), pp. 73–4; Statut der Zunz-Stiftung (Berlin: G. Bernstein, 1886). Steinschneider was the chair of the Beirath. 14 ismar schorsch

theological seminary. That is why I pushed to have a Christian elected to the Zunz Foundation and am pleased that my suggestion took such a favorable turn.37 Fleischer responded to Steinschneider quickly, graciously and affirma- tively, fully cognizant of the invitation’s import. He thanked him in particular for “having seized the initiative and carried it to fruition in a matter that constitutes the victory of academic universalism over religious particularism. It is also part and parcel of the Kulturkampf and belongs to signatora temporis.” As late as 1886, Fleischer still enjoyed a seat on the unenlarged council.38 The final tribute to the man from the Jewish side came posthumously in 1904, when Goldziher, his former student and by then Europe’s leading scholar of Islam, authored the official biographical entry on him in the prestigious national encyclopedia of famous Ger- mans, a ten-page treasure of information and paean of praise. Only a Jew could bear witness that Fleischer’s noble character matched his sterling scholarship.39 While in Leipzig, Steinschneider also befriended Franz Julius Delitzsch, destined to become the finest Christian Hebraist and exegete of the Hebrew Bible in nineteenth-century Germany. Some of his commentaries are still in print in either German or English. At the time Delitzsch, only three years older than Steinschneider, was an impoverished free-lance scholar who had earned his doctorate in 1835 at age twenty-two.40 A year later he astonished the world of scholarship with a sweeping, exuberant and competent history of post-biblical Hebrew poetry up to his own day, the first of its kind. In 1838, he returned to the subject more broadly in a second volume with undi- minished exuberance.41 In between he had been invited to catalogue

37 RLC, Fleischer papers, May 23, 1875. The official invitation to Fleischer was dated May 18 and was signed by S. Neumann, the chair of the curatorium, and M. Steinschneider, the chair of the academic council (Fleischer papers). 38 JTSL, ARC 108, Fleischer letters, May 24, 1875. The Statut der Zunz-Stiftung of 1886 still shows Fleischer to be a member of the Beirath, as do two letters to him from S. Neumann, who still presided as the chair (RLC, Fleischer papers). 39 Goldziher, “Fleischer: Heinrich Leberecht.” On the relationship between Flei- scher and Goldziher, see Robert Simon, Ignac Goldziher. His Life and Scholarship as Reflected in His Works and Correspondence (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1986), pp. 37–9. 40 Karl Heinrich Rengstorf, Die Delitzsch‘sche Sache (Berlin & Hamburg: Lutherisches Verlagshaus, 1967). 41 Franz Delitzsch, Zur Geschichte der jüdischen Poesie (Leipzig: K. Tauchnitz, 1836); idem, Wissenschaft, Kunst, Judenthum (Grimma: J.M. Gebhardt, 1838). moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 15 the Hebrew manuscripts in the city and university library and discovered one entitled Etz ayyim by Aaron ben Elijah of Nicomedia (Greece), a fourteenth-century Karaite polymath.42 Delitzsch solicited Steinschneider’s help in the daunting task of editing this unpublished manuscript (partially written in Rashi script) in which its author had tried, on the model of Maimonides’s Guide of the Perplexed, to lay out the full expanse of Karaite theology. The two may have first met while studying the Quran with Fleischer, who subsequently enriched their edition with Arabic excerpts pertaining to Islamic philosophy. When it finally appeared in 1841, Delitzsch gave ample recognition to the inestimable contribution of both men, a rare testament to a singular collaboration across religious lines in the exhuming of a medieval Jewish text.43 But the relationship was not to last. The personalities and beliefs of Delitzsch and Steinschneider were too disparate to allow for bond- ing. Delitzsch, who had gone through a religious experience in 1832, emerged as a staunch romantic, devout Lutheran separatist and eventual missionary to the Jews.44 He closed his foreword to Etz ayyim on an overtly religious and subtly Christian note, by asking “that God whose word is the only touchstone of all human creations and whose honor is the final goal of all endeavors might grant that my work glo- rify his threefold holy name.”45 Perhaps for that reason Steinschneider distanced himself publicly from Delitzsch the very year Etz ayyim came out. In a review of recent scholarship on medieval Hebrew poetry, he criticized his two earlier works with their aesthetic and religious perspectives as being quite Christian in character, a subtext, he felt, as yet undetected by his fawning Jewish admirers.46 Regardless, Delitzsch cherished the memory of their brief collaboration. When Steinschneider turned seventy, Delitzsch surprised him with a charming greeting full of tenderness:

42 Idem, Etz ayyim (Hebrew in original) (Leipzig: Johann Ambrosius Barth, 1841), p. 7. 43 Ibid., pp. 13–4. 44 Rengstorf, pp. 17–24. 45 Delitzsch, Etz ayyim, p. 15. 46 LBO II (1841), cols. 241–2. 16 ismar schorsch

A fortunate glance at Ad. Brüll’s Monatsblätter brought me the knowledge that tomorrow you enter the ayin (the Hebrew letter for 70) of life’s alphabet. Since 1849 our ways have parted and seldom crossed, but the years we sat together with the Etz ayyim of Ahron b. Elia, especially in that fierce winter in your modest bakhur-room on the far side of the ? bridge, are for me unforgettable! In the meantime you have become a great literary historian and (as I have diligently gathered) a fortunate family man. May God of the World yet bestow on you a long and serene twilight whose end shall be a hearty and sunny beginning. This is the wish of your old friend who finds himself already on the road between shivim (Hebrew for 70) and shemonim (Hebrew for 80) awaiting the summons of the world (des Rufes Welt)!47 What bears stressing is that the collaboration did not divert Stein- schneider to focusing on the fate of the Karaites. The subject was to intrigue his contemporaries because it mirrored the intramural religious polemics of their own age. The influence of Islam on the Kara- ites surely interested him. In his essay on circumcision he ventured to opine that it was extensive.48 Though still very much in formation, his larger canvas would eventually encompass the panoply of Arabic- Jewish interaction with special attention to its expressions of a nascent secular temperament. Steinschneider arrived in Berlin in November 1839, only to depart again in October 1841 for a three-year stay in Prague. He returned to settle permanently in June 1845, provided the Prussian government deigned to grant him citizenship. Without it he could hold no communal educational post.49 In March 1847, after passing a strenuous set of state exams with distinction, he received a teacher’s license and a year later his decree of naturalization signed by King Frederick William IV on March 18, 1848, as the streets of Berlin erupted in violence.50 Finally in July 1849, Steinschneider felt secure enough financially to marry his fiancée after a seven-year courtship. As he had often insisted to her in his somewhat autocratic letters during their separation, he

47 JTSL, ARC 108, Delitzsch letters. 48 Steinschneider, Beschneidung, pp. 26–7. 49 JTSL, ARC 108, box 15, “Kassa 1832–70.” 50 Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, p. 181; Marx, “Steinschneider,” pp. 129–30; JTSL, ARC 108, box 18. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 17 would not consider the step until he had secured an annual income of at least 200 talers from his tutoring and writing.51 A few months later he wrote to Fleischer that he was serving as a reporter for the National- zeitung covering Prussia’s upper house: “The work is time-consuming, but respectably paid and will serve to send me to Oxford.”52 This tortuous path to stability reveals graphically the painful absence of academic opportunities for the devotees of Jewish scholarship. Even Delitzsch, whose rejection of Prussia’s uniﬁcation of its Lutheran and Reform Churches in 1817–21 cost him academic appointments to Breslau and Koenigsberg, did receive an invitation in 1846 from Mecklenburg-Schwerin to join its university in Rostock as a full professor.53 Advancement was also easier for Steinschneider’s friend Friedrich Heinrich Dieterici, ﬁve years younger and likewise a student of Fleischer’s, with whom he met weekly to pursue their Ara- bic interests; he was by 1846 a Privatdozent (lecturer) at the University of Berlin and the recipient of a 500-taler government research grant to travel to Cairo. By 1850 he had reached the rank of associate professor of Oriental languages in Berlin.54

It was this systemic inequity which had convinced Salomon Munk, thirteen years older than Steinschneider, to forsake Germany for France in 1827 without a doctorate, though not without a pilgrim- age to Weimar to see Goethe. Until 1833, when he died suddenly, Michael Beer (b. 1800), the brother of the composer Giacomo Meyer- beer, eased Munk’s transition as patron. Thereafter, his career as a student of Arabic and Jewish philosophy, despite setbacks, gained trac- tion. As early as 1832, a good decade before Steinschneider, Munk

51 Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, pp. 40, 72, 189; from Steinschneider’s letter of July 11, 1849, to Fleischer, it is clear that he and Auguste were planning to get married on the 28th of the month (RLC, Fleischer papers). However, in a letter to George Alexander Kohut after Auguste’s death, Steinschneider related that they were married on July 1, 1849. After the transfer of his far-flung correspondence to the Seminary Library in 1933, Alexander Marx must have asked Adeline Goldberg, his devoted secretary, assistant and executrix, about the discrepancy, for in a letter to him dated November 21, 1934, she conjectured that the civil and religious marriage ceremonies must have occurred on different days (George Alexander Kohut, “Steinschneideriana,” Studies in Jewish Bibliography and Related Subjects in Memory of Abraham Solomon Freidus [New York: The Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1929], p. 104; JTSL, ARC 80, box 25/39). 52 Letter dated December 25, 1849, RLC, Fleischer papers. 53 Rengstorf, pp. 52–78. 54 Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, pp. 185, 193; Neue Deutsche Biographie, III, p. 672. 18 ismar schorsch detected, while perusing the Oriental manuscripts in the Bibliothèque nationale, the critical role played by Jewish translators in mediating Greek and Arabic science and philosophy to the West. In 1838 the Bibliothèque invited him to join its staff and almost immediately he began publishing Judeo-Arabic samples of medieval Hebrew translations. In 1844 the Consistoire central des Israelites hired him as its secretary for 1500 francs (400 taler) per annum and four years later the Minister of Public Instruction added an annual research stipend of 1200 francs. The culmination of his illustrious dual career came in 1864 when the government appointed him to fill the chair in Hebrew and Syriac at its renowned Collège de France replacing Ernst Renan, who had lost it in the furor over his Life of Jesus.55 By way of contrast, Steinschneider’s tombstone in Berlin etched his career acidly. “Here rests the teacher and writer Moritz Stein- schneider . . .,” that is how he wished to be remembered, a member of two professions bereft of status!56 While Steinschneider chose not to seek a haven in the rabbinate, his scholarship surely would have brought renown to any university faculty.57 To have inscribed his tombstone with the title “honorary professor,” which the Prussian government awarded him belatedly in 1894, would have merely concealed the stark truth that throughout his life he and his field were deemed unworthy of admission to the German academic guild.58 Nor did he hide that he owed his survival to teaching. On the reverse side of his tombstone, it was not his vaunted scholarship that he touted but rather, in a rhyming Hebrew couplet, a lifetime of uninterrupted teaching that spanned 75 years.59 Had he been a full time scholar, his awesome output might even have been greater!

55 Moise Schwab, Salomon Munk. Sa vie et ses oeuvres (Paris: Ernest Leroux, Libraire, 1900), pp. 31–5, 50–1, 74, 126–7, 133–4, 165–6. 56 Steinschneider and his wife are buried in the Jewish cemetery in Berlin-Weissen- see. A common tombstone marks their graves. 57 In a letter dated February 22, 1846, Steinschneider wrote Auguste of his decision not to become a rabbi: “I am enjoying my studies again and am far more relaxed. Surely a contributing factor is that I have shaken off that massive, burdensome and tormenting literature of the practical or ceremonial law, in German Schulhan Arukh and Poskim. I have come to realize that a conscientious, religious rabbi can never be well educated. He needs to immerse himself in a literature that dissipates his life-force. Still, I do not regret enduring the chains for so long. True wisdom must be grounded in life. I am entitled to speak because I tried so hard” (Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, p. 85). 58 Marx, “Steinschneider,” p. 180. 59 From 1869 to 1890, Steinschneider served as director of the Berlin Jewish community’s school for girls on Heidereutergasse. It consisted of six grades with some moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 19

When Steinschneider informed Fleischer of his decision to return to Berlin from Prague, the latter felt strongly that it was the right move: Your future appears to me in a friendly light now that I know you are with Zunz. There are people in whom I have an instinctive and unshak- able conﬁdence without having been able to take their measure. Zunz is one of them and the two of you belong together.60 The two men were truly kindred spirits who had drawn close during Steinschneider’s ﬁrst sojourn in Berlin. Zunz, whom he revered as a paragon of scholarship and a fatherly friend, epitomized what Stein- schneider aspired to become. In Prague its esteemed scholarly rabbi, Salomon Judah Rapoport, never engendered the same degree of reverence in him, as he wrote to Auguste after she had spent a Purim evening with him: That Rapoport sometimes yearns for me, I take to heart only because there is scarcely anyone in Prague who can appreciate his knowledge. Rapoport is a lovable man, a sharp and witty mind but with the character, forgive me, of a Pole, who for me can never become one that will prove appealing.61 Yet when Rapoport died in 1867, Steinschneider closed his sympathetic obituary with the searing comment that “the Prague rabbinate needed twenty-seven years to destroy a rare genius.”62 Zunz yearned for Steinschneider no less than Rapoport. During their separation, he often expressed his great need for his assistance. “If only I had Steinschneider here and he could work with me, then my books would be edited,” Adelheid wrote to him on June 19, 1843 quoting her husband. She added forlornly: You know that they are all idiots here . . . who have neither an ear for let alone any interest in seliot [ penitential prayers, Hebrew in the original; I.S.]. Where are the young to be found who have the understanding, knowledge and affection to love and support path breaking scholarship and my Zunz?63

400 students. Adeline Goldberg, his faithful amenuensis, described him as a serious, hardworking and independent educator well ahead of his time (“Steinschneider als Schulmann,” AZJ LXXX [1916], pp. 151–3). 60 JTSL, ARC 108, letter dated March 10, 1845. 61 Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, pp. 174, 258–9. 62 Ges. Schr., p. 628. 63 Alexander Marx, “Zunz’s Letters to Steinschneider,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research V (1933–4), p. 119. 20 ismar schorsch

In the same combination of candor and despair, Zunz depicted darkly for Steinschneider the plight of his life’s work: Except for a pair of poor souls, who perhaps could do something if they had food to eat, everything here in the domain of Jewish scholarship is dead. . . . [dots in the original; I.S.] Lebrecht and I, we will take care of the hespedim [eulogies, Hebrew in the original; I.S.].64 Internal apathy and external animus, then, according to Zunz, threatened Wissenschaft des Judentums with an early burial, not the intent of its beleaguered and deprived practitioners. Undeterred, Steinschneider returned to cement a friendship unlike that of any two other Wissenschaft scholars. He at once assisted Zunz in finishing the editing of Nahman Krochmal’s dense and disordered torso of a manuscript, for which Zunz refused payment from the family while insisting on remuneration for Steinschneider. When Moreh Nevukhe ha-Zeman finally came out in 1851, Zunz’s pristine Foreword ended by thanking Steinschneider and linking his name forever with that of the author of this classic and its selfless editor.65 A year before, Steinschneider had informed Fleischer with grave concern of Zunz’s ever precarious financial situation: The local Jewish [teacher’s] seminary [which Zunz had headed since 1840; I.S.] will close by Easter, because the community [Gemeinde; I.S.] has no money and the old Zunz is left without a pension or employment. I feel for him much more than for Archduke John and his imperial ministers [whose Hapsburg regency would fall with the failure of the Frankfurt National Assembly; I.S.].66 On his five summer visits to the Bodleian Library at Oxford to catalogue its collection of Hebrew books printed before 1732, Steinschneider was ever mindful that he was fulfilling Zunz’s long cherished dream. “You are sitting at the fountainhead for which I thrilled in days long gone.”67 Steinschneider scoured its incomparable Hebrew manuscript collection, which he wanted to catalogue above all else, in part for

64 Ibid., p. 118. 65 Ismar Schorsch, “The Production of a Classic: Zunz as Krochmal’s Editor,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book XXXI (1986), p. 289; Shimon Rawidowicz, ed., The Writings of Nachman Krochmal (Hebrew), 2nd enlarged ed. (Waltham, Mass.: Ararat Publishing Society, 1961), haqdamat ha-motzi la-or. 66 RLC, Fleischer papers, December 25, 1849. 67 Marx, “Steinschneider,” p. 134; idem, “Zunz’s Letters to Steinschneider,” p. 133. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 21 unknown liturgical materials for Zunz. On October 13, 1851, Zunz wrote him excitedly from Berlin: “Don’t fail to have copies made for me; I will cover your expenses for the seliot . . . The 613 mitzvot (azharot for Shavuot) I prefer to delay for the time being. However, Saadia’s entire siddur [ just discovered by Steinschneider; I.S.] must be printed.”68 At Zunz’s request, Steinschneider refrained from publishing on his own anything that he had turned over to him until Zunz had a chance to take up the items in his forthcoming Die synagogale Poesie des Mittelalters. At the Bodleian Zunz was Steinschneider’s silent partner, whereas in the synagogale Poesie the invisible hand was Steinschneider’s. When Zunz finally made it back to England in 1855 after its publication, Adelheid, his wife, who accompanied him, met the Queen at the home of Sir Isaac Lyon Goldsmid, English Jewry’s first baron (1778–1859). On her own, the Queen came on a surprise visit to admire the prize-winning flowers of his greenhouse, and in an intimate setting Adelheid impressed the company with her charm and intelligence. Zunz missed the occasion because he was at the British Museum. In a total of 35 days at the Museum, the Bodleian and the Bibliothèque nationale in Paris, he pored over some 180 manuscripts and 100 printed books. The intensity of his effort suggests that even had he known of the Queen’s visit in advance, he would not have allowed her luster to distract him from the lure of his work. The prior- ity epitomized the ethos of both mentor and disciple.69 Organized alphabetically by author, the second half of Stein- schneider’s massive Latin catalogue of the Bodleiana with its more than 9500 packed entries closed with an entry on Zunz, and he seized the opportunity to annotate and publish it separately in German as a bibliographical tribute honoring his 63rd birthday in 1857. Stein- schneider suggested that as the revered founder and leading practi- tioner of a new field of study, Zunz did not need acclaim by learned

68 Moritz Steinschneider, Der Siddur des Saadia Gaon entdeckt von M. Steinschneider, als Manuscript gedruckt, 1856 (?), p. 1 (copy in JTSL, Steinschneider Pamphlets, Vol. 4). See also Arab. Lit., pp. 62–3. 69 Steinschneider, Der Siddur, p. 1; Immanuel Bernfeld, “Zum Andenken an Leopold Zunz,” Jahrbuch für jüdische Geschichte und Literatur XXXI (1938), pp. 233–34; Nahum N. Glatzer, Leopold Zunz. Jude –Deutscher –Europäer (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1964), p. 372. In 1846 Zunz had devoted a short visit to England (from August 1 to September 12) largely to sightseeing, managing to work in the British Museum only two consecu- tive days ( Jewish National Library, Jerusalem, ARC 4° 792, C 13; Das Buch Zunz, pp. 97, 97a). 22 ismar schorsch societies or awards for his books or even a university appointment. It was the field itself, bereft of all institutionalization, that pleaded for external recognition. Steinschneider’s unprecedented nine-year effort under the auspices of a world-class library would hopefully begin to rectify this grievous drawback. Guiding him throughout, he gratefully acknowledged, was Zunz’s scholarship and sage advice.70 One can only imagine the animated conversation between them each time Steinschneider returned from an expedition to “the fountainhead.” There is surely warrant for surmising that Steinschneider, now at the peak of his career, was not only instrumental in creating the Zunz Foundation in 1864, but also in directing those funds not needed for the pension to ensuring the luster of his name and the perpetuation of his writings.71 Thus in the 1870s the foundation initiated and funded a three-volume edition of his collected writings, a jubilee volume in 1884 when Zunz turned 90, with Steinschneider’s essay on Aristotle’s Metaphysics in Jewish garb in pride of place as the book’s first essay, and finally in 1892, six years after Zunz’s death, a modestly revised second edition of his grand maiden book on the history of midrash.72 Appropriately, it was Steinschneider who adorned the volume with a brief Foreword in which he recounted that Zunz had often told him that he had actually planned to write a history of the Jews when his friend Isaak Markus Jost upstaged him. In reaction Zunz decided to focus on the sermons and prayers of the synagogue, thereby mapping the cultural terrain of medieval Jewry.73 In sum, the collaboration of these two titans of critical scholarship could not have been more intimate nor its continuity more congru- ent. As Zunz had dominated the generation of the founders, Stein- schneider would reign supreme among their immediate heirs. Between them they covered the expanding parameters of the field, with Zunz working mainly on the religious legacy of Ashkenazi Jewry and Stein- schneider on the secular literature of Sephardi Jewry. By the century’s

70 CB, cols. 2774–80; Moritz Steinschneider, Die Schriften des Dr. L. Zunz (Berlin: Friedländer‘sche Buchdruckerei, 1857), pp. 2–4. 71 Nahum N. Glatzer, Leopold and Adelheid Zunz. An Account in Letters 1815–1885 (New York: East and West Library for the Leo Baeck Institute, 1958), p. 307. 72 Leopold Zunz, Gesammelte Schriften, 3 vols, ed. Curatorium der Zunz-Stiftung (Berlin: Louis Gerschel, 1875–6); Jubelschrift zum neunzigsten Geburtstag des Dr. L. Zunz, ed. Curatorium der Zunz-Stiftung (Berlin: Louis Gerschel, 1884); Leopold Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden, 2nd ed. (Frankfurt a.M.: J. Kauffmann, 1892), Fore- word by M. Steinschneider, pp. xiv–xvi. 73 Ibid., p. xiv. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 23 end, a coterie of scholars inspired by Steinschneider and Munk had anchored the appeal of the Sephardi mystique in a trove of Judeo- Arabic texts unearthed in the Oriental manuscript collections of libraries across Europe.

A breakthrough can never be fully accounted for but neither is it wholly a mystery. There is a dialectic to the writing of history as there is to other disciplines. Steinschneider’s Jüdische Literatur of 1850 did not come out of the blue. It was rather the comprehensive map of a tireless explorer on the frontiers of Jewish knowledge. Expanded and reconceptualized, the bracing diversity of essays which he had authored at a feverish pace in the 1840s converged and evolved into a grand synthesis. The essay came to a total of 114 double-columned quarto pages, covered an expanse of 2500 years of Jewish literature and brought to the fore the names of some 1600 authors. It appeared twice, first in Germany’s august scholarly encyclopedia of the arts and sciences (the above-mentioned Ersch und Gruber) founded in 1818 to compete with its older French and English counterparts, and then again in 1857 in a revised cumbersome English translation, less polemical in tone and greatly enriched by Steinschneider’s intervening visits to the Bodleiana.74 The prestigious setting of the German edition not only added to the resonance of his scholarship, but also heralded his lifelong preference to publish in places frequented by non-Jewish scholars. Steinschneider’s tour de force gave Wissenschaft des Judentums a calling card. The key to the expansion in scope was a redefinition of what constituted Jewish literature. Steinschneider went beyond Zunz’s initial enlargement in 1818 of the term rabbinische Literatur to include all that which had been written in Hebrew. Henceforth, the field was to encompass anything written by Jews in any language.75 The objective of both men was the same: to alter radically the image of the literature as wholly religious in nature and written solely by rabbis.

74 An Index of Authors to JL/G appeared in 1893 (Frankfurt a.M.: J. Kauffmann). 75 JL/G, p. 357. Inexplicably, this critical passage was omitted in JL/E. It was restored by Henry Malter in his superb Hebrew translation of the English text (Moshe Steinschneider, Sifrut Yisrael, trans. by Zvi Malter [Warsaw: Ai’asaf,1897], p. 13). 24 ismar schorsch

In the libraries of Europe, Jewish books and manuscripts were catalogued under the rubric of theology.76 As for the universities, the field in the truncated form of the Old Testament was confined to the faculty of theology. To be sure, the provenance of Arabic language and literature in the German university was also the faculty of theology, though by the second half of the nineteenth century it gained entry into the faculty of philosophy where the humanities were taught.77 In the German version of his essay, Steinschneider lamented the ghetto within general scholarship in which Jewish literature still found itself and speculated that freeing it would be even more difficult than emancipating the Jews.78 The sweep of the essay from Ezra to the end of the eighteenth century was predicated on a periodization scheme first propounded by Zunz. In 1841, toward the end of an exhaustive survey of Jewish geographical literature, Zunz had boldly asserted that the legacy of Greece fruc- tified Jewish culture three times, first under the Ptolemaic and Seleucid hegemonies in the third and second centuries before the Common Era, then again beginning in the eighth century in the guise of Islam and finally through the medium of the German Enlightenment in the last quarter of the eighteenth century. Steinschneider adopted this scheme of demarcation according to external rather than internal factors and devoted the bulk of his essay to the centuries when the Arabic renaissance profoundly transformed the contours of Jewish culture.79 In reference to the first millennium, which spanned from the early centuries of the Second Temple to the rise of Islam, Steinschneider

76 Steinschneider, Serapeum no. 1, January 15, 1847, p. 7. Also idem, Serapeum no. 3, February 15, 1846, p. 39. 77 In 1840 Fleischer moved from the theological faculty at Leipzig to its philosophical faculty (Fueck, p. 170). In a letter to Steinschneider dated June 23, 1862, Fleischer expressed his approval of the decision by the Prussian Minister of Education to separate Oriental studies from the exegesis of the Old Testament at Halle ( JTSL, ARC 108, Fleischer letters). To keep the fields tethered, he felt, would yield only superficial scholarship. Not surprisingly, the preponderance of the membership of the Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft in its early years consisted of graduates of theological faculties, gymnasium teachers and Protestant clergy (Preissler, “Die Anfänge der DMG,” p. 285. More generally, pp. 260–65). 78 JL/G, p. 451. 79 Zunz, Gesammelte Schriften, I, pp. 205–6. See also Schorsch, From Text to Context, pp. 86–8. Steinschneider had already adumbrated a version of this periodization in his Kuzari essay (LBO II [1841], cols 293–4, 345–8). At the time, he posited that the third instance of fructification by Greece came with the Renaissance and Reforma- tion. But since the “dark ages” in Jewish cultural history lingered for him as well as for Zunz until Mendelssohn, he preferred later to identify the third infusion with the Enlightenment. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 25 tended to minimize the Greek influence. Although the centrality of Scripture cast all of rabbinic literature into an unreflective and amor- phous exegetical mode, he was able with insight and intuition to identify and assemble vestiges of different literary genres that under the Arabs would morph into a life of their own. In so doing, he drew on earlier work.80 Prior to writing his essay for the Allgemeine Encyklopädie, Steinschneider had been absorbed by the application of the categories of folklore, legend and saga to the corpus of midrashic literature. Because the exegetical dynamic of Aggadah was far freer than that of halakhah, midrash became the fluid medium for confronting the outside world. In one essay he argued that rabbinic tales and topics turn up in early Islamic literature about Mohammad, even the Quran, then take on an Islamic coloration and eventually return to the midrashic fold to give the Hebrew prophets a distinct resemblance to the founder of Islam.81 In contrast, the genre of saga always bears a nugget of historical veracity, situating it somewhere between history and myth. When Steinschneider went beyond looking at samples of midrash through the lens of saga to examining biblical stories, including some of those in Genesis, Zacharias Frankel, the heavy-handed editor of the journal in which Steinschneider published this particular analysis, vented his spleen on grounds of faith in a footnote. The third and final installment of Steinschneider’s essay failed to appear, however, not because Frankel exercised any censorship but because his short-lived journal simply expired after a run of three years.82 The extended section, then, on midrash in Ersch und Gruber should not be seen as a mere prolegomenon to the Islamic period, where

80 JL/E, pp. 35–45. 81 Moritz Steinschneider, “Zur Legendenkunde: Etwas über das Verhältniss der muhammedanischen Legende zur rabbinischen,” Magazin für die Literatur des Auslandes 72, June 17, 1845, pp. 286–8. 82 Moritz Steinschneider, “Zur Sagen-und Legendekunde,” Zeitschrift für die religiösen Interessen des Judenthums (hereafter ZRIJ) II (1845), pp. 380–93; III (1846), pp. 281– 90. Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, p. 150. In his note Frankel inveighed against Stein- schneider’s treatment of Genesis as undercutting the belief in the divine origin of Scripture (III, p. 286). In consequence, JL/E bristled with animus toward Frankel (p. 279 n. 58; p. 287 n. 19; p. 288 n. 38; p. 315 n. 10; p. 318 n. 30). When a few years later (1854) Frankel declined to grant Brecher a prize in a contest for which he had submitted a piece of original scholarship, Steinschneider consoled him by calling Frankel a coward as well as a tyrant (Monatsschrift für die Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums [hereafter MGWJ] III [1854], p. 168; undated letter by Steinschneider to Brecher sometime in 1854, JTSL, ARC 108, box 12). See also Schorsch, From Text to Context, pp. 196–7. 26 ismar schorsch

Steinschneider’s affinity and expertise actually lay, but as an independent contribution. Not only had he caught the unity and dynamic of the literature, he also proposed a new angle for studying it. The ascendancy of Ashkenazi supremacy after the Spanish expulsion at the other end of the spectrum failed to resonate with Stein- schneider. Christianity, unlike Islam, had always impeded the building of cultural bridges. He characterized the centuries before Mendelssohn as a period of shrinking horizons, far fewer literary genres and endless repetition, unrelieved by the rapid introduction of printed Hebrew books. The price of turning inward was unoriginality.83 Having ordered and analyzed the literary creativity of three separate periods, Stein- schneider brought his survey to a close with the end of the eighteenth century, on the brink of a renewed exposure to the legacy of Greece which promised a reprise of the ferment witnessed under Islam. What had readied Steinschneider to master this vast terrain was the feverish effort he and his close friend David Cassel had mounted in 1843 and 1844 to produce an encyclopedia on Judaism informed by a quarter-century of critical Jewish scholarship. Steinschneider was to be the editor for the domain of post-biblical literature, one of its five large divisions.84 By spring 1844, his spirits were rapidly sinking. So many good collaborators had pulled out. A letter by Cassel from May 10, 1844, tried to firm up his resolve and gives some idea of just how hard Steinschneider was working to plot out his area. I grant you that the withdrawal of the best workers is discouraging. But I believe that it is only till we get started; later they will be reenergized. You must, however, permit me the remark that you make things too difficult for yourself because you are trying to do what Bibliotheca Hebraea (i.e. Wolf) did. I see no tragedy if a name is omitted. We ourselves said in the Plan [der Real-Encyclopädie des Judenthums—Krotoschin, 1844; I.S.] that given our present resources, gaps will remain. Please don’t regard me as beings superficial or cavalier . . .85 Thus the still invaluable four-volume catalogue of Hebrew books published 1715–1733 by Johann Christoph Wolf enabled Steinschneider to work at an advanced level. Tools were available. By nature an ency- clopedist, he reached for comprehensiveness. In the end, he covered

83 JL/E, pp. 214, 218, 220–1. 84 Schorsch, From Text to Context, pp. 194–5. 85 JTSL, ARC 108, David Cassel correspondence. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 27 the subject of post-biblical Jewish literature in a single essay by himself for another publication of much great impact. But genius never expresses itself in terms of quantity alone. Stein- schneider implanted his noteworthy scope in a captivating conceptual grid, the coordinates of which were the fertile influence of Islam and the emergence of secular interests. The deep exploration of both foci would constitute the heart of his scholarly agenda. For Steinschneider the rise of Islam was the decisive turning point in Jewish history. With its cultivation of philosophy, science and literature, Islam engendered a measure of Jewish self-consciousness, indi- viduality, systematization and rationalism. A plethora of new Jewish literary genres attested the end of a mentality of unreflectiveness and anonymity in which the supremacy of the Bible had allowed for only midrashic forms of self-expression. A common language, Arabic, max- imized the cultural interchange.86 In an essay from 1843 on Immanuel of Rome, Steinschneider voiced his externally weighted view in a striking metaphor: A tiny bubble floats on the ripples and waves of a mighty river. Colors and pictures pass over its clear surface, while inside figures of all sorts, phenomena great and small, bright light and deep darkness come and go. In that tiny bubble are mirrored the river that engulfs it and everything in it.87 Again earlier spade work had sharpened his outlook. In 1845, for example, Steinschneider had written at some length about several medical writings of Maimonides authored in Arabic but preserved as yet only in Latin or Hebrew translations.88 A year later he put out the Hebrew rendition of an Arabic theological tract which both he and Rapoport erroneously attributed to Maimonides.89 The following year he republished it along with a Hebrew text by Abraham Ibn Ezra on the calendar and a tender dedication to his beloved and learned

86 JL/E, pp. 60–4, 80–4. 87 Ges. Schr., p. 271. 88 Görge K. Hasselhoff, “The Rediscovery of the Maimonidean Influence on Chris- tianity in the Works of Moritz Steinschneider, Manuel Joel, Joseph Perles and Jacob Guttmann,” in Moses Maimonides (1138–1204), eds. Görge K. Hasselhoff & Otfried Fraisse (Würzburg: Ergon Verlag, 2004), pp. 451–3. 89 Moritz Steinschneider, Maamar ha-Yihud (Berlin: H.M. Lewy, 1846); Herbert A. Davidson, Moses Maimonides. The Man and his Works (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), pp. 310–11. 28 ismar schorsch maternal grandfather.90 Though Maimonides did not receive undue attention in Ersch und Gruber, his was by far the largest entry in the Catalogue of the Bodleiana, spanning 81 columns with Saadia Gaon a distant second with 58.91 Steinschneider’s affinity for Maimonides ran deep. In 1843 he refused to countenance the unanticipated evidence marshaled by the usually cautious Munk, who claimed in a thunderclap that the sage of Fustat had no choice but to convert outwardly to Islam in his early years in the face of the religious fanaticism of the Almohades in Spain and North Africa.92 In Ersch und Gruber he made no mention either of the Almohades or Munk’s thesis, while in the Bodleian catalogue he reiterated his rejection outright.93 In a letter to Auguste from March 24, 1847, Steinschneider proudly declaimed that he had been born on March 31, 1816, one day after the birth date of Maimonides, which he would note in the CB as being March 30, 1135.94 But surprisingly that is not the date recorded on the German side of his tombstone. Rather the inscription reads March 30, 1816. Could it be that Steinschneider, a stickler for accuracy, gave in to the temptation to align his date of birth forever with that of Maimonides? After all, they already shared the same Hebrew name. Maimonides, however, was only the epitome of the Jewish-Islamic symbiosis. The pervasive orientation of Ersch und Gruber flowed from extensive bibliographic work, done prior to its composition. In 1897 Steinschneider reported: In the year 1845, I thought to have already compiled the most important materials for an essay entitled Bibliotheca judaeo-arabica, containing short biographical notes on Jewish authors (their lives are, with but few exceptions, exhausted in a few lines), and a full account of their works, the manuscripts (of which at that time scarcely one had appeared in print), the translations into Hebrew and other languages. I also prepared an alphabetical list of titles, partly extracted from Arabic sources, at that time not yet printed. I hoped to compose a small book which might be

90 Moritz Steinschneider, Shene ha-Meorot (Berlin: L. Zarenzanski, 1847). 91 Steinschneider, CB, Moses Maimonides, cols. 1861–1942, Saadia Gaon, cols. 2155–2224. 92 Salomon Munk, “Notice sur Joseph ben Jehouda,” Journal asiatique, 2nd series, XIV (1841), pp. 5–77; Moritz Steinschneider, ZRIJ II (1845), pp. 76–80, 108–20. 93 CB, col. 1866. 94 Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, p. 178; CB, col. 1861. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 29

useful to those who had access to the treasures in Oxford and Paris; to visit Oxford myself I could not even dream of, and a journey to Paris was likewise out of the question.95 At least two biases were operative in promoting the preference for Islam. The first was a pronounced antipathy for Christianity expressed most openly by David Cassel. In an essay that appeared in 1846, he asserted unequivocally that in the Middle Ages Jews fared better under Islam than Christianity, enduring fewer and smaller persecutions. The reasons were, he conjectured, that Christianity by deriving directly from Judaism came to hate it congenitally, that Islam was less missionary and that Christianity was in the clutches of a priestly caste. Toward the end of the essay, Cassel dared to challenge the world significance of Christianity itself as an unwarranted reading concocted by Christian historians.96 Given the intimate relationship between Cassel and Steinschneider at the time, it is not unlikely that Steinschneider shared his views. What is incontrovertible is that he was repelled by the culture of Ashkenaz. Christianity had construed for the Jews in its domain a far more confining and insecure habitat. “For only in the house of God was the Jew of those countries at home.”97 Halakhah and Aggadah constituted the primary content of its few literary genres to be replaced in time by Kabbalah, which he disdained “as metaphysics in the garb of midrash and aggada.”98 Language and literature deteriorated in quality, especially after 1492, for want of external stimuli. His contempt for late medieval rabbinics was unmitigated: Study indeed increased (in eastern Europe) to a gigantic extent; but being left to itself, and guided by no general scientific knowledge, it unavoidably degenerated into a method repulsive to the few who were really profound scholars, or whose minds were less distorted.99 The second operative bias was the prevailing Sephardi mystique which had captured the imagination of German-speaking Jews in the first half of the nineteenth century. Changing sensibilities and the vitriol of

95 Steinschneider, “Introduction to the Arabic Literature of the Jews,” IX, p. 224. 96 David Cassel, “Zur Geschichte jüdischer Zustände in der pyrenäischen Halbin- sel,” ZRIJ III (1846), pp. 22–3, 41–3. 97 JL/E, p. 162. 98 JL/E, p. 106. 99 JL/E, p. 72. 30 ismar schorsch opponents to emancipation had estranged them from their own Ash- kenazi heritage. Among the medieval Sephardim they found a model of a Jewish community that had flourished precisely because it lived in two worlds.100 Steinschneider’s contribution was to invigorate this construct by grounding it deeply in the fertile soil of the Islamic world. When in 1843, Munk published the Arabic original of a commentary on the prophet Habakkuk by the thirteenth-century Jerusalemite R. Tanum, it represented one of the first underlying Arabic texts of a medieval Jewish author ever published.101 Prior to that date rabbis and maskilim enmeshed in the Sephardi mystique had hurried to reissue Sephardi classics, ignoring the critical need to unearth the underlying Arabic texts in order to better understand and even correct the Hebrew derivative. One such case was the edition of the Kuzari put out by Brecher between 1838 and 1840 with an extensive Hebrew commentary but no German translation. Munk had spent one month at the Bodleian in the summer of 1835 and uncovered a single, error-filled Arabic manuscript of the Kuzari. Five years later he reported his find but cautioned that without a few other Arabic manuscripts of Halevi’s classic, the Bodleian text was unpublishable.102 Another of these transitional figures between Haskalah and Wissen- schaft was Raphael J. Fürstenthal from Glogau. In 1836 he published

100 Schorsch, From Text to Context, pp. 71–92. 101 Salomon Munk, “Commentaire de rabbi Tan’houn de Jérusalem sur le livre de Habakkouk,” in S. Cahen, La Bible, traduction nouvelle avec l’Hébreu, XII (1843), pp. 1–103. On the significance of Munk’s contribution, see Steinschneider, Arab. Lit., p. xlvi. In 1833 Munk had already announced in Vol. IV of Cahen’s Bible his intention to publish a critical edition of the Arabic original of the Moreh Nevukhim along with a French translation and notes. At the time he provided a sample of two chapters from book three with a translation. In 1838 he reappeared in Vol. IX of Cahen’s Bible with excerpts of two commentaries to Isaiah, one in Arabic by Saadiah and another in Persian by an unknown author. He added a French translation for both as well as a related chapter from Maimonides’s Moreh (Ch. 29, Bk 2). He hoped that his scholarly efforts would “attract the attention of our young rabbis to the works of our sages (doc- teurs) written in Arabic, which constitute the most brilliant part of rabbinic literature. The literary monuments of these Arabic rabbis are in great part unfortunately lost, though one still finds a good number in several libraries. The collection in Oxford is the most important” (Cahen, IX, p. 74). 102 For Brecher, see note 11. On the trip to Oxford, see Munk’s letter to “Monsieur Humbert,” a professor of Arabic in Geneva, dated July 17, 1835, who was prepared to provide him with some financial backing ( Jewish National and University Library, Jerusalem, Archives, Schwadron Collection Autographie). As for the Arabic original of the Kuzari, see Munk, LBO I (1840), col. 136. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 31 two editions of Bahya Ibn Pakuda’s pietistic masterpiece ovot ha-Levavot with his German translation printed in Hebrew characters in one and in German in the other, obviously aimed at two different markets.103 The indispensable Arabic original in fact would not be published till 1912.104 In 1839 Fürstenthal struck again, this time with a German translation in Hebrew letters of Maimonides’s Moreh Nevukhim accompanied with an extensive Hebrew commentary, whereas a year earlier Simon Scheyer had issued a German translation of Book Three.105 All these uncritical endeavors were inspired by an apologetic rather than a philological impulse. Munk’s unsurpassed edition of the Arabic original of the Moreh along with a meticulous French translation did not begin to appear till 1856 and by the time he finished a decade later he had tragically gone blind.106 Though Steinschneider minimized some of Munk’s research in Ersch und Gruber, there was no gainsaying its overall impact.107 In 1897 he would begrudgingly acknowledge that in 1850 “Munk began his valuable accounts of Arabic manuscripts in Paris and Oxford.”108 Historically, the combined research of both men embedded the study of Jewish culture under Islam deep within the context of the Arab renaissance. The magnificent opportunity afforded Steinschneider to scrutinize the Judaica collection of the Bodleian, the largest in the world, enriched his English edition of Jewish Literature with countless references to Arabic manuscripts of texts both known and unknown. The next fifty years would see ever more Arabic originals edited and published for the first time. Not given to exaggeration, Steinschneider concurred in a laudatory review of a book by Wilhelm Bacher on the grammarian Jonah Ibn Janah in 1885: This work, along with several others, compels us to acknowledge that in the history of Jewish literature what has been accomplished in the last

103 Bahya ben Joseph ibn Pakuda, ovot ha-Levavot, ed. and trans. by R. Fürstenthal, Leb (Breslau: Zultsbach u-veno, 1835); idem, ovot ha-Levavot. Über die Herzenspﬂichten, ed. and trans. by R. Fürstenthal (Breslau: H. Sulzbach, 1836). 104 A.S. Yahuda, ed., Al-hidāja ilā farāid al-qulūb des Bachja Ibn Jōsēf Ibn Paqūda aus Andalusien (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1912). 105 Moreh li-tzdaqah hu sefer Moreh Nevukhim, ed., trans., and annot. by R. Fürstenthal (Krotoschin: B.L. Monasch, 1839); Simon Scheyer, Dalalat al Haiirin. Zurechtweisung der Verirrten, dritter Theil (Frankfurt a.M.: Ferdinand Hauch, 1838). 106 Moses Maimonides, Le guide des égarés, 3 vols., ed., trans. and annot. by Salomon Munk (Paris: A. Franck, 1856–66); MGWJ V (1856), p. 423. 107 JL/E, pp. 99, 120, 295, 310. 108 Steinschneider, “Introduction to the Arabic Literature of the Jews,” IX, p. 224. 32 ismar schorsch

fifty years took hundreds of years in other fields, and in our case without benefit of an academic setting or financial support, but solely through the devotion of a few scholars.109 Moreover, the center of gravity of Jewish scholarship by then had definitely shifted into the alluring orbit of Islamic Jewry. Within the millennium of medieval Jewish literature, Steinschneider classified and surveyed fourteen different categories. The last three, comprising non-liturgical poetry, mathematical sciences and natural history (including medicine), were to be found only in the Islamic world and constituted his major find.110 Steinschneider gravitated to them because in sentiment and substance they were largely non-religious and universal, or, anachronistically, secular. And even when triggered by a religious problem such as Saadia’s Arabic treatise on inheritance law, which Steinschneider discovered in the Bodleian, the mathematical principles and calculations were identical with those operative in Islamic jurisprudence.111 By the time he summed up his years-long research on Jews in mathematics in the 1890s, he had mined the manuscripts at his disposal to compile a list of 240 Jewish mathematicians, almost wholly unknown, throughout the ages with nuggets of historical and bibliographical information about each. Nor was he adverse to including those who had chosen to convert out of Judaism.112 These profane fields refracted a cultural landscape far less compartmental- ized than once thought. By way of demonstration, the young Steinschneider took recourse to poetry rather than science. In 1843 he published a masterful portrait of Immanuel of Rome, born the same year as Dante and often compared to him. The poet epitomized a Renaissance figure at the nexus of Sephardi and Italian culture, yet unappealing to Steinschneider because bereft of Jewish consciousness. He compared his worldly collection of poetic novelle (mabarot) to Boccaccio, but found them utterly wanting in gravitas and inferior to the Hebrew maqamat of Judah Al- Harizi. Paradoxically, Steinschneider ended up siding with the doyen

109 Deutsche Litteraturzeitung, 1885, no. 45, pp. 1582–3. 110 JL/E, pp. 168–203. 111 Moritz Steinschneider, “Arabische Mathematiker u.s.w.,” Orientalische Literatur- Zeitung, June 15, 1904, VII, no. 6, cols. 205–7. 112 Moritz Steinschneider, “Die Mathematik bei den Juden,” Bibliotheca Mathematica, 1893–8. On the issue of converts to Islam, see Bibliotheca Mathematica, 1894, p. 99; also AE, XVII, pp. 148–9. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 33 of Sephardi halakhists, Joseph Karo, who had declared the reading of his mahbarot as unsuited for Shabbat.113 Three years later in an unambiguous celebration of the blessings of acculturation, Steinschneider announced one of his most intriguing speculations, that the popular Hebrew poetic novella The Prince and the Dervish (ben ha-melekh we-ha-nazir) by the thirteenth-century Sephardi poet Abraham Ben Hisdai was actually based on a Greek source most likely translated into Arabic.114 By 1850 Steinschneider had identiﬁed the Greek original as Barlaam and Josaphat while others thought that it was the biography of Buddha that had actually inspired the Greek version.115 Though neither the discovery of the Arabic intermediate text from which Hisdai had translated nor the ultimate Sanskrit original would come to light in Steinschneider’s lifetime, he took great pleasure in the ecumenical fact that the life of the founder of Buddhism became an edifying tale for Christians, Muslims and Jews alike.116 Still another charming specimen of non-liturgical Hebrew poetry was borne aloft by deeply felt emotion. In 1847 Steinschneider published a choice selection of medieval Hebrew gnomes, parables and lyric poems in German translation. He titled the modest volume of 114 pages Manna and dedicated it to his beloved Auguste. The odd title recalled the food that had sustained the Israelites in the wilderness and was meant to signify the shared love of poetry that once nour- ished the young couple through its own experience of deprivation in an engagement spent apart that would eventually last four full years.117 What made the volume sparkle was Steinschneider’s genuine talent for translation, which dexterously preserved in German the meter and rhyme of the original poem. A labor of love, but much more! Steinschneider drew his samples from a galaxy of Sephardi luminaries and used his dense endnotes to show their dependence on Arabic tales, themes and literary models. The originality of his contribution

113 Ges. Schr., pp. 271–308. 114 Moritz Steinschneider, “Das Buch Ben Hamelech Wehannasir,” Jahrbuch für Israeliten, eds. I. Busch and J. Wertheimer, IV (1845), pp. 221–33, V (1846), pp. 335–40. 115 Moritz Steinschneider, “Über eine arabische Bearbeitung des Barlaam und Josephat,” ZDMG IV (1850), pp. 89–93; JL/E, p. 174; Hayyim Schirmann, Ha-Shirah ha-Ivrit bi-Sefarad u-we-Provence, 2nd ed., 2 vols. ( Jerusalem & Tel Aviv: Mosad Bialik & Devir, 1954–1959), II, pp. 238–41. 116 HÜ, pp. 864–65. 117 Moritz Steinschneider, Manna (Berlin: J. Rosenberg, 1847). 34 ismar schorsch stands out only when contrasted with the work of his predecessors. From 1836 to 1845, Franz Delitzsch, Leopold Dukes and Michael Sachs had produced a succession of studies that highlighted almost exclusively the religious legacy of Sephardic poets.118 To his credit, Dukes had brieﬂy taken up their more worldly oeuvre but just as quickly dropped the subject.119 In 1845, Sachs, by now rabbi in Berlin, capped the depiction with a passionate brief on the depth and beauty of Sephardi religious poetry backed by a rich sample of his own exqui- site translations. Once close to Sachs in Prague, Steinschneider had grown disenchanted and his Manna bears all the earmarks of a subtle rebuttal.120 By then too he had decided irrevocably that he would not seek refuge in the rabbinate. Manna thus evinced both biography and history, a personal disposition increasingly secular and a less onesided paradigm to encompass Jewish creativity. In the end, Steinschneider’s vision of Judaism as a multifaceted religious civilization was heavily indebted to Zunz. His mentor’s highly compressed and charged bibliographic essay of 1818 had tried to order the bounty of Hebrew literature under the rubrics of religion, politics, science and national history. It was in the third category that the profane came to the fore as Zunz unfolded a broad spectrum of disciplines, both theoretical and practical, from astronomy to music on which Jews had left a footprint. But the insight lay fallow till revived and vastly expanded by Steinschneider.121 In the Islamic orbit, Steinschneider was also able to limn a Jewish culture deﬁned by cross-cultural fertilization rather than persecution. Zunz had largely restricted himself to the voluminous poetic liturgy of the synagogue, which often gave pained expression to the political instability of Jewish life in Christendom, and hence was unable to sever the link between culture and persecution. For Steinschneider it was not a matter of which society fomented more or less hostility toward its Jews, but the degree to which its language and intellectual

118 On Delitzsch, see note 41. Leopold Dukes, Ehrensäulen und Denksteine (Wien: A. Strauss’s sel. Witwe, 1837); idem, Moses ben Esra aus Granada (Altona: Gebrüder Bonn, 1839); idem, Zur Kenntniss der neuhebräischen religiösen Poesie (Frankfurt a.M.: Bach’sche Buch- und Steindruckerei, 1842); Michael Sachs, Die religiöse Poesie der Juden in Spanien (Berlin: Veit, 1845). 119 Leopold Dukes, “Übersicht der Neu-Hebräischen Literatur weltlichen Inhalts in Prosa und Versen,” Israelitische Annalen I (1839), Nos. 9, 11, 13, 17, 25, 31, 44, 52. 120 Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, pp. 25, 30, 58–60, 172, 255. 121 Leopold Zunz, “Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur,” Gesammelte Schriften, I, pp. 11–15. moritz steinschneider: the vision beyond the books 35 life allowed for Jewish participation. The cultural accessibility of Islamic society, especially in its vibrant early centuries, was unmatched in the Christian world. Steinschneider’s sweeping survey of 1850 revealed not only its manifold inﬂuences on Jewish thought and expression but also the role played by Jews as cultural agents in the transmission of Greek learning to the Christian West. That seminal interchange would remain his focus for the rest of his life. As a strand in the tapestry of medieval culture, Jewish literature and history deserved to be taught in the university’s philosophy faculty, the domain of the humanities. The nature of the ﬁeld dictated the venue. Conversely, Steinschneider inveighed against the double isolation in which Jewish scholarship languished. Since his collaboration with Delitzsch back in 1840, he wrote in 1865, no Christian scholar in Germany had evinced the slightest interest in putting out a post-biblical Jewish book. Similarly, Jewish scholars institutionally adrift repeatedly failed to study their subject contextually.122 Nor did he view with favor the theoretical option of a Jewish theological faculty at a German university or the practical option of a rabbinical seminary à la Breslau. Both settings perpetuated the damaging apartness of Wis- senschaft des Judentums and worse still threatened to garb it again in the straightjacket of theology.123 In his own forceful way, Steinschneider intoned afresh the relevance of the Sephardi mystique: Literature is the pinnacle of culture (Bildung) and there are only two great world literatures in which Jews have played a prominent role: that of the Arabs and Germans. Under their aegis Judaism was elevated rather than destroyed as it came to know the unity of the great and universal ideas of humanity through its own particular views and thereby breaking the chains of its isolation.124

III

Steinschneider died as he had lived, fiercely independent. According to the official burial notification, death came in the wee hours of the

122 Moritz Steinschneider, “Aus der Literatur,” Jahrbuch für Israeliten XII (1865), pp. 4, 8. 123 Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” pp. 520–21; HB VIII (1865), p. 137. See also my Hebrew essay on Steinschneider’s view of Judaism after emancipation (to appear in Pe’amim), where I discuss his unpublished letter to Brecher dated January 27, 1868, on the proper training of rabbis ( JTSL, ARC 108, box 12). 124 HB II (1859), p. 83. 36 ismar schorsch morning of January 24, 1907, from a heart attack brought on by the flu. He missed his ninety-second birthday by little more than two months. That evening the burial society washed his body ritually to send it the next day by train to Hamburg for cremation. Berlin apparently did not yet have a crematorium. When the ashes returned, the Society for Cremation (Verein für Feuerbestattung), to which he may have belonged, provided a zinc casket (Zinksarg).125 The funeral took place on January 31 in the sanctuary of the new Weissensee cemetery packed with the lay, rabbinic and academic elite of the Berlin Jewish community, after which the ashes were interred in the cemetery’s row of honor.126 Inexplicably, the Hebrew dates on the Hebrew side of his tombstone are both in error. In the letter to Auguste in which Steinschneider told her of the proximity of his birthday to that of Maimonides, he added that he was born on the first of Nisan, yet the inscription on his tombstone denotes the 28th of Nisan.127 As for the date of his death, the inscription reads the year 5662 of the Jewish calendar corresponding to the year 1902, which is even wider off the mark. History entertains us with its ironies. One mistake on a tombstone is plausibly an act of ignorance. Two, one of which is egregious, are more mysterious, perhaps a silent and concealed act of reproof for flouting publicly the sacred norms of a venerable tradition. In truth, though, Steinschneider needed no tombstone. His prodigious scholarly legacy left its own indelible epitaph.

125 Beerdigungs-Anmeldung, Stiftung Neue Synagoge Berlin—Centrum Judaicum. 126 AZJ, February 7, 1907, Der Gemeindebote. 127 Steinschneider, Briefwechsel, p. 178. 2. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE”: GIDEON BRECHER, MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER AND THE MORAVIAN HASKALAH1

Michael L. Miller

“Mr. Brecher is among those doctors—previously so common among the Jews, but now so rare—who, alongside their practical profession, have proved their love for Judaism and their desire for scholarly inquiry in the field of Jewish literature.”2 Gideon Brecher (1797–1873)—also known as Gedalyah ben Eleazar of Prossnitz—was the central figure in the Moravian Jewish enlightenment (haskalah), and when these words were penned in 1851, the 54-year-old physician had recently become the first Jew in Prossnitz, Moravia, to obtain a doctorate. Healer (rofe) and enlightener (maskil), Brecher fit the mold of the modern Jewish doctor—“the physician who expressed Jewish concerns in the course of his medical practice”—that had appeared in Germany in the eighteenth century.3 Rooted in the traditional rabbinic culture of Central Europe, and trained at the medical faculty at the University of Pest, Brecher was a polymath (akham kolel), in the broadest sense of the term.4 A product of the yeshivah and the university, Brecher embraced the authority of revelation as well as the authority of empirical research. Throughout his career, he drew on these two sources of authority, and he spent much of his life trying to reconcile them. Gideon Brecher is important in his own right, but in the context of this volume, he takes on added significance, since he was also Moritz Steinschneider’s uncle. Brecher was married to Josephine (Hayla) Zadek (1805–1885), whose older sister, Hani Zadek (1792–1859), was married to Jacob Steinschneider (1782–1856). Jacob and Hani were the parents of Moritz Steinschneider (1816–1907), making Gideon

1 Gideon Brecher would frequently close his letters to Moritz Steinschneider with the words, “Dein dich liebender Onkel” (your loving uncle). 2 “Kurze Anzeigen. Zur Kenntniss der Geschichte und der wissenschaftlichen Gegenstände des Talmuds,” Der Orient, January 11, 1851 (Sonderheft): 481. 3 John M. Efron, Medicine and the German Jews (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), p. 64. 4 See his obituary in Ivri Anokhi (Brody), May 23, 1873, p. 243. 38 michael l. miller

Brecher the maternal uncle (by marriage) of the “father of Hebrew bibliography.” Moritz was eleven years old in 1827, when his twenty- two-year-old Aunt Josephine married thirty-year-old Gideon, with whom he “kept up close relations” for the next forty-six years.5 This paper examines the vibrant intellectual environment that shaped Gideon Brecher—and, by extension, Moritz Steinschneider— placing particular emphasis on Moravia’s moderate, “rabbinic Haska- lah,” which sought to accommodate and integrate secular knowledge and scientific approaches while remaining committed to the Hebrew language and deeply rooted in traditional rabbinic texts. Indeed, one of the distinguishing characteristics of the Moravian Haskalah was its intimate connection to the flourishing yeshivah life in places like Prossnitz, where students’ active engagement with literature, philosophy and European languages was often tacitly approved by their rabbis. Born on January 12, 1797, in Prossnitz, known as the “Jerusalem of the Hana (plains)” due to its long line of illustrious rabbis, Gideon Brecher led a fairly peripatetic life before marrying. During his first eight or nine years he lived in Prossnitz, where his education consisted largely of translating the Bible from Hebrew into Yiddish at his maternal grandfather’s knee. Brecher moved on to the Talmud and its commentaries, but also learned to read and write German and French. As was the custom, he left home to attend yeshivah, first in neighboring Eibenschitz, and then in Nikolsburg, the largest Jew- ish community in Moravia and seat of the Moravian chief rabbinate. Here, Brecher developed his mastery of rabbinic literature, but he was also drawn to “profane knowledge,” which he acquired as an autodidact—with the help of the students attending Nikolsburg’s Pia- rist gymnasium.6 Afterwards, he worked as a private tutor in two other Moravian Jewish communities, first in Neu-Rausnitz, then in Lomnitz. Here, he offered instruction in Talmud and Bible, as well as the Ger- man and French language and penmanship, all the while devoting his free time to the study of theology and philosophy. According to Moritz Mordechai Duschak (1815–1890), his biographer and friend, Brecher came to view philosophy as “the temple one must enter to discover

5 Alexander Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia: JPS, 1948), p. 113. 6 Moritz Duschak, “Gideon Brecher, eine biographische Skizze,” in Die Jubiläums- Feier des Dr. Gideon Brecher in Prossnitz am 14. Jänner 1865 (Prossnitz: Ignaz Rottberger, 1865), p. 9. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 39 the truth” and learned Latin as “the key to opening the gates of this sacred temple.”7 Two of Brecher’s uncles played important roles in his intellectual and professional development. While in Prossnitz, he developed a close relationship with his maternal uncle, Ber Schiff, an “outstanding Hebrew stylist,” who, over the course of many years, instructed him in Hebrew poetry and style, and exposed him to many of the publications of the Berlin Haskalah. From 1814 until 1849, Gideon and Ber kept up a lively correspondence in rich and lucid Hebrew, full of biblical references and sophisticated rhymes. Occasionally, they resorted to Judeo-German, but they had such a command of Hebrew poetics and style that they could express even the most sublime thoughts in the Holy Tongue.8 Another uncle, a wealthy money-changer in Pest, had a rather different impact on his nephew’s career. In 1817, this uncle invited Brecher to work for him as a secretary. Brecher accepted the invitation, but a couple of months after his arrival in Hungary, his uncle and cousin surprised him by converting to Christianity. Duschak considered this “the most decisive moment” in Brecher’s career, since it was at this time that he abandoned the “banner of Mercury” for the scalpel of Hippocrates.9 In 1818, Brecher matriculated at the University of Pest, where he studied surgery and obstetrics.10 At the medical faculty, he was in the company of many other Moravian Jews, including his younger brother Johann, who matriculated in 1821.11 Like the other Mora- vian, Bohemian and Galician Jews, Brecher studied at the German- language faculty (as opposed to the Hungarian-language one), but he presumably picked up some Hungarian while he was there. Gideon

7 Ibid., p. 10. 8 The correspondence can be found at the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary ( JTSA), Gideon Brecher Correspondence, ARC 22. On Ber Schiff, see M. Duschak, “Gideon Brecher,” p. 8. 9 M. Duschak, “Gideon Brecher,” p. 11. 10 Zsuzsanna Heilauf, ed., Külföldi hallgatók magyar fels˝ooktatási intézményekben. I. rész 1635–1919 (Foreign students in Hungarian institutions of higher education. I. 1635– 1919) (Budapest, 2006), p. 97. 11 Hungarian Jewish Archive (Budapest), I-Z1 Pesti Zsidó Összeírása 1820–tól, f. 102. Gideon and Johann boarded in the same house, together with Salamon Rotfeld, a Jewish student from Eibenschitz, and Elisabeth Vagner, a Catholic maid from Kre- mitz, Hungary. Gedeon [sic], Johann, Salamon and Elisabeth are listed as “Dienst- schaft” (servants) at Joseph Granistädter’s house (Polinsbergisches Haus No. 197) in the Leopoldstadt district of Pest. 40 michael l. miller was a highly accomplished student, receiving the highest possible mark (1o classis cum eminentia) in ecology, surgery (theory), surgery (praxis), forensic medicine, therapeutic medicine, and obstetrics; in practical anatomy he received the second highest mark (1o classis).12 In April 1824, he passed his rigorosum with distinction and obtained his masters in Surgery and Obstetrics.13 According to Duschak, Brecher was the best student at the university, a claim that seems to be borne out by his grades and the results of his rigorosum. He caught the attention of Dr. András Pfisterer, the chief physician (protomedicus) of Hungary, who offered him a position as county physician (Komitatsphysikat). The offer, however, was conditioned on his conversion to Christianity, which Brecher “rejected so quickly and decisively, as if he had been offered a pinch of tobacco.” As Duschak put it, with a note of approval: “How different the nephew was from the uncle.”14 After rejecting Dr. Pfisterer’s offer, Brecher returned to Prossnitz, finally settling down in his native town. In 1824, he set up a private medical practice and in 1831 was hired as a doctor (Spitalarzt) at the hospital of the Prossnitz Jewish community, where he worked for the rest of his life. In 1827, thirty-year-old Gideon married Jose- phine Zadek, becoming a member of the extended Steinschneider family. (At first blush, thirty may seem rather old for a first marriage in this period, but—due to Jewish marriage restrictions in Moravia— the average age of Jewish grooms in Prossnitz was actually twenty- nine in 1827.)15 Together, Gideon and Josephine Brecher had three sons, Eliezar (Alois), Aharon (Adolf) and Moshe (Moritz). In Prossnitz, Gideon became a member of the Jewish communal board (qahal) and burial society (evra qadisha) and served as the Jewish school’s superin- tendent (Schulinspektor). As a key participant in the intellectual life of the Prossnitz Jewish community, he was an important figure in the Moravian Haskalah.

12 Semmelweis Egyetem Levéltára (Budapest), Oszt. Könyv 1822/23, ff. 120–121. 13 For the results of his rigorosum, see Semmelweis Egyetem Levéltára, 1.f.2. Az Orvostudományi Karon végzett hallgatók jegyzéke 1823/24. tanév. 14 M. Duschak, “Gideon Brecher,” p. 11. On András Pﬁsterer (1759–1825), see József Szinnyei, Magyar irók élete és munkái (Budapest: Augmentum, 1992). 15 See National Archive (Prague), Trauungsbuch Prossnitz (Prostîjov). On the Familiants Laws (Familiantengesetze) of 1726–27, which only allowed ﬁrst-born Jewish sons to marry, see Michael L. Miller, Rabbis and Revolution: The Jews of Moravia in the Age of Emancipation (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2011), pp. 35–40. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 41

Prossnitz as a Center of the Moravian Haskalah

The Haskalah ﬂourished in Moravia in the 1820s, 1830s and 1840s, a full generation after the Berlin Haskalah, but it never assumed the radical character of its German counterpart. Far from being a poor imitation of the Berlin movement, one could argue that the Mora- vian Haskalah embodied the true spirit of Moses Mendelssohn, since it managed to strike a balance between Jewish tradition and Euro- pean rationalism, treating the cross-fertilization as mutually beneﬁ- cial. Moravia’s maskilim had little direct contact with Berlin, so their encounters with the Haskalah were mediated by Prague and Vienna, which both played important roles in the dissemination (and modera- tion) of maskilic ideas in the Habsburg Empire.16 According to Ruth Kestenberg-Gladstein, the Prague Haskalah had a distinctly “national” character, conspicuously absent from its Berlin counterpart. Whereas maskilim in Berlin tried to downplay or eliminate Judaism’s national components, maskilim in Prague proudly portrayed the Jews as a “nation” (am, ummah, le om) and even referred to the Land of Israel as their “homeland” (moledet). Kestenberg-Gladstein speculates that the multinational character of the Habsburg Monar- chy made it easier for Jews to identify themselves as one nation among many.17 Hebrew held pride of place in the Prague Haskalah, but so, too, did Yiddish (or Judeo-German), which one Prague maskil praised as “my language.”18 Prague’s maskilim published a short-lived Judeo-German journal in 1802, but the real center of maskilic publishing in the Habsburg Mon- archy—from 1820 onwards—was Vienna. The imperial capital did not have a home-grown Haskalah movement, but its printing houses published important maskilic periodicals, such as Bikkure ha-‘Ittim (“First Fruits of the Times,” 1820–1831) and its successor, Kerem emed (“Vineyard of Delight,” 1833–1856), both of which were founded by Galician Jews. Despite being published in Vienna, Kerem emed was

16 On the Moravian Haskalah, see Michael L. Miller, Rabbis and Revolution, pp. 60–98. 17 Ruth Kestenberg-Gladstein, “Oﬁyah ha-le’umi shel haskalat Prag,” Molad 23 (1965): 221–233; Ruth Kestenberg-Gladstein, Neuere Geschichte der Juden in den böhmischen Ländern (Tübingen: Mohr, 1969), pp. 200, 207–209, 225. 18 R. Kestenberg-Gladstein, Neuere Geschichte der Juden, pp. 162–163. 42 michael l. miller commonly viewed as “the Hebrew annual of the Galician [sic!] Haskalah,” because it counted so many Galician Jews among its contributors.19 In a similar vein, Kokheve Yitzak (“Stars of Isaac,” 1845–1848, 1850– 1873) could be considered the Hebrew annual of the Moravian Haska- lah. Although its editor, Max Emanuel Stern (1811–1873), came from Pressburg, then in Hungary, and its contributors hailed from all cor- ners of the Habsburg Empire, nearly half of the articles published between 1845 and 1848 were written by Moravian Jews.20 The latter, who contributed original Hebrew poems, Hebrew translations of German poems, as well as a wide range of philological, philosophical, historical and exegetical studies, had generally come of age in the 1820s and 1830s, having acquired secular knowledge in Moravia’s German-Jewish schools and (most of them) a traditional Jewish education in the yeshivot of Moravia (Nikolsburg, Prossnitz, Trebitsch, Triesch, Boskowitz, Eibenschitz) or Hungary (Pressburg, Eisenstadt). Nearly all of them tried their hand at Hebrew poetry, with varying degrees of success. One poem, entitled “Prayer for the Hebrew Lan- guage,” was certainly no masterpiece, but as a paean to the “mother of all tongues,” it expressed a sentiment that ran through the pages of Kokheve Yitzak (as well as Bikkure ha-Ittim and Kerem emed).21 The Moravian Haskalah had several centers, including Prossnitz, Neu-Rausnitz, Trebitsch, and Triesch. Of these Prossnitz was the most important, but Neu-Rausnitz was home to Josef Flesch (1781–1839), “the father of the Moravian [ Jewish] enlightenment” and a frequent contributor to Bikkure ha-Ittim (Brecher spent time here as a private tutor in the 1810s); Trebitsch was home to Chaiim Josef Pollak (1798– 1879), head of the local yeshivah and the most proliﬁc contributor to Kokheve Yitzak; and Triesch had so many maskilim that it was known colloquially as “little Berlin.” Gershom Scholem took particular interest in Prossnitz, because, more than any other Jewish community in Europe, it seemed to support his argument for a nexus between Sabbateanism and Haskalah.

19 Robert Wistrich, “The Modernization of Viennese Jewry: The Impact of Ger- man Culture in a Multi-Ethnic State,” in Toward Modernity, ed. Jacob Katz (New York: Transaction Books, 1987), p. 67; on Kerem emed, see Israel Zinberg, A History of Jewish Literature, vol. 10 (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1977), pp. 80–83. 20 In the twelve issues published between 1845 and 1848, 49% of the pages contain articles and other contributions by thirty-four Moravian Jews. 21 H. Wassertrilling, “Teﬁllah la-safah ha-ivriyah,” KI 6 (1846): 66–68. Hirsch (Her- mann) Wassertrilling was from Boskowitz, Moravia. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 43

“It is certainly no accident,” he wrote, “that a city like Prossnitz, which served as a center for Haskalah in Moravia . . . was also a bastion of Sabbatianism in that country.”22 According to Scholem, Sabbatean- ism, which had made inroads into Prossnitz in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, had “completely destroyed” the world of rabbinic Judaism from within, making former Sabbatean bastions—like Prossnitz—all the more susceptible to the allure of Haskalah. Leopold Löw (1811–1875), who taught in Prossnitz in the 1830s, expressed a similar theory, but the kinds of “subterranean” links proposed by Scholem (and Löw) are almost impossible to substantiate.23 None of the maskilim in Prossnitz had a known Sabbatean (or Frankist) lineage, and many of the identifiable Sabbatean families had left Judaism altogether.24 Furthermore, Scholem’s theory does not explain why Hol- leschau and Kojetein—which were also bastions of Sabbateanism in the eighteenth century—played no significant role in the Moravian Haskalah. For this reason, the specificity of Prossnitz must be sought in other realms. Prossnitz, Moravia’s second largest Jewish community and a venerable center of rabbinical learning, was also Moravia’s wealthiest Jewish community and the hub of Moravia’s thriving textile industry in the first half of the nineteenth century. The financial pillar of the community was the Bohemian-born Veit (Feish) Ehrenstamm (1757–1827), an army purveyor who supplied salt, tobacco, wine, grain, carts, horses, and especially uniforms, to the Habsburg troops during the Napole- onic Wars. (In 1812, he supplied the army’s entire uniform quota!)25 With his prodigious wealth, Ehrenstamm gave generously to the

22 Gershom Scholem, “Redemption through Sin,” in The Messianic Idea in Judaism (New York: Schocken Books, 1971), p. 141. See also G. Scholem, Review of “M.J. Cohen, Jacob Emden, a man of controversy,” Qiryat Sefer 16 (1939–1940): 332. 23 Leopold Löw, Gesammelte Schriften, II (Szegedin, 1890), p. 172. Translation adapted from Jacob Katz, “Relationship between Sabbatianism, Haskalah, and Reform,” in Divine Law in Human Hands ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1998), p. 510. 24 In 1773–74, six Prossnitz families (35 individuals) converted to Catholicism. According to local tradition, these families were followers of Jacob Frank, who had recently arrived in Moravia. See Moritz Duschak, “Geschichte der israelitischen Gemeinde zu Prossnitz,” Ben Chananja 6 (1863): 522, and Gerson Wolf, Judentaufen in Oesterreich (Vienna, 1863), pp. 78–79. 25 Bernhard Heilig, “Aufstieg und Verfall des Hauses Ehrenstamm,” Bulletin für die Mitglieder der Gesellschaft der Freunde des Leo Baeck Instituts 10 (1960): 101–122; B. Heilig, “Aktuelles aus der Geschichte des Hauses Ehrenstamm,” Zeitschrift des deutschen Vereines für die Geschichte Mährens und Schlesiens 36 (1934): 9–28. [B. Heilig (1902–1943) was from Prossnitz.] 44 michael l. miller educational and religious institutions in Prossnitz; he also built himself a private library with well over two hundred Hebrew and Aramaic books, comprising more than five hundred separate volumes. His library was largely made up of traditional rabbinic literature, but in it were also fifteen books on Hebrew grammar, thirteen books on ethics, philosophy, geography and astronomy, and three volumes of Bikkure ha-Ittim.26 In short, it was a model library of the “rabbinic haskalah.” Alongside Prossnitz’s pillar of wealth stood its pillar of rabbinic learning: Rabbi Moses Katz Wanefried, a student of Rabbi Moses Sofer, who headed Prossnitz’s celebrated yeshivah from the late 1810s until his death from cholera in 1850.27 Wanefried was wealthy in his own right, but it was his “glistening brilliance” as a talmudist that attracted students from all over Bohemia, Moravia, Hungary and Poland.28 The students who flocked to Wanefried’s yeshivah found an environment that was particularly open to secular studies. Accord- ing to one of them, Wanefried’s yeshivah “differed favorably from all other yeshivot” in that “students were allowed to occupy themselves with other disciplines in addition to Talmud.”29 In addition to Ehrenstamm’s library, Prossnitz provided other opportunities for yeshivah students to expose themselves to extra- talmudic knowledge. In the 1820s and early 1830s, the home of Jacob Steinschneider, in particular, served as a meeting point for enlightened Jews who whole-heartedly embraced Hebrew language and literature. Steinschneider was a native of Prossnitz who had made an effort to

26 A hand-written list of the books in Ehrenstamm’s library can be found at the Archives of the Jewish Museum in Prague, MS 86. The manuscript has been dated to 1818, but it contains many works from the 1820s, such as Bikkure ha-Ittim. The following works are of note: Joseph Albo’s Book of Principles (Frankfurt); Bahya ibn Pakuda’s Duties of the Heart (Amsterdam); Maimonides’ Guide to the Perplexed (Berlin); Judah Halevi’s Kuzari; Naftali Benet’s Emunat Yisrael (Vienna, 1824). 27 Michael Brocke and Julius Carlebach, eds., Biographisches Handbuch der Rabbiner, vol. 2 (Munich: K.G. Saur, 2004), 878; Moritz Eisler, “R. Moses Katz Wanefried: Eine Reminiszenz aus dem Leben des Herrn Dr. Adolf Jellinek,” Die Neuzeit (1891): 205–207; Moritz Kayserling, “Die jüdische Literatur von Moses Mendelssohn bis auf die Gegenwart,” in Die Jüdische Literatur seit Abschluss des Kanons, vol. 2, eds. Jakob Winter and August Wünsche (Trier: Sigmund Mayer, 1896), p. 760; M. Stein, “‘Was man alles vom Deckel eines Buches herunterliest,’” Jüdisches Archiv 1:11/12 (Aug.–Oct. 1928): 22; Isaac Hirsch Weiss, Zikhronotai (Warsaw, 1895), p. 79. One of his students, Aharon Halevi from Zlíć in Bohemia, wrote down some of Wanefried’s talmudic novellae from 1819; see Jewish and National University Library ( JNUL), Jerusalem, Manuscript collection, 8º 3051 (Microfilm B782). 28 “Briefe aus Mähren,” MGWJ 2 (1853): 386. 29 M. Eisler, “R. Moses Katz Wanefried,” p. 206. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 45 acquire a secular education during his yeshivah studies in Prague around 1800.30 Back in Prossnitz, Steinschneider’s home attracted like-minded Jews, such as his brother-in-law, Gideon Brecher. By the mid-1830s, Brecher’s home (which happened to be near Wanefried’s yeshivah) took the place of Steinschneider’s, offering yeshivah students and members of the Jewish community a place to cultivate Hebrew literature, read the newly-established German-Jewish newspapers (such as the Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums) and study classical and modern languages.31 With Ehrenstamm’s prodigious wealth, Wanefried’s celebrated yeshivah and Steinschneider and Brecher’s devoted circle of Hebra- ists, Prossnitz served as a veritable incubator for Hebrew literature and Jewish scholarship in the 1820s, 1830s and 1840s. A remarkable number of Jews who passed through Prossnitz in these decades went on to become leading figures in the religious, scholarly and educational firmament of central European Jewry (especially in Hungary). Löw Schwab (1794–1857) taught Veit Ehrenstamm’s children in the early 1820s and served as rabbi of Prossnitz (1831–1836), before being elected rabbi of Pest, Hungary. His son-in-law, Leopold Löw, taught in Prossnitz’s Talmud Torah school (1830–1835), before becoming rabbi in various Hungarian Jewish communities (Nagykanizsa, Pápa and Szeged), and publishing the important scholarly journal, Ben Chananja (Szeged, 1858–1867).32 Hirsch B. Fassel (1802–1883) served as rabbi of Prossnitz from 1836 to 1851, before being elected rabbi of Nagy- kanizsa, Hungary (where Löw had served before him). While still in Prossnitz, Fassel ordained Moritz Steinschneider, and began writing works on Jewish philosophy and law.33 Ephraim Israel Blücher (1813– 1882) wrote an Aramaic grammar book while living in Prossnitz during the late 1830s, before teaching Hebrew in Lemberg, setting up a gymnasium in Vienna and finally settling in Budapest. Adolf Jellinek (1821–1893), who attended Wanefried’s yeshivah in the 1830s, became

30 A. Marx, Essays, p. 113; Moses Rosenmann, Dr. Adolf Jellinek. Sein Leben und Schaffen (Vienna: Jos. Schlesinger, 1931), p. 19. 31 M. Eisler, “R. Moses Katz Wanefried,” p. 206. 32 Moritz Feitel, Reminiscenzen aus meinem Umgange mit Leopold Löw vom J. 1829. bis zu seinem Lebensende (1875): Ein Beitrag zur Culturgeschichte (Pápa: Schossberger, 1885). 33 For Steinschneider’s rabbinical diploma (Nov. 6, 1843) and hattarat horaah (April 12, 1844), both of which were granted by Fassel, see A. Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” in Jewish Studies in Memory of George A. Kohut (New York: Alexander Kohut Memo- rial Foundation, 1935), pp. 501–502. 46 michael l. miller a celebrated preacher in Leipzig and Vienna and a trailblazing scholar of Jewish mysticism. Moritz Eisler (1823–1902), who attended Wane- fried’s yeshivah with Jellinek, became director of the German-Jewish school in Nikolsburg and published a multi-volume work on medieval Jewish philosophy. Josef Weisse (1812–1897) studied with Moritz Steinschneider in Prossnitz and Prague, and then taught at Prossnitz’s German-Jewish school (1838–1842), before serving as rabbi in Waag- Neustadtl (Vágújhely), Hungary.34 Prossnitz was an important node in the ramiﬁed network of Jewish scholars that stretched across Central Europe; and native sons like Moritz Steinschneider—who studied in Prague, Vienna, Leipzig and Berlin—played an important role in keeping the “Jerusalem of the Hana” in the loop. In 1841, for example, Steinschneider announced the imminent arrival of Abraham Geiger, who was passing through Prossnitz on his way from Vienna to Breslau. Fassel, Brecher, Weisse and others welcomed the German rabbi “with great anticipation,” and Geiger returned the favor by delivering a few well-received sermons.35 In 1843, Steinschneider also drew upon Prossnitz talent in his ambitious effort to publish a comprehensive Jewish encyclopedia, the so-called Real-Encyclopädie des Judenthums, which he and David Cassel hoped to bring to fruition in the mid-1840s.36 Steinschneider solicited articles from, among others, his friends Josef Weisse and Adolf Jellinek, his rabbi Hirsch Fassel, and his uncle Gideon Brecher. The encyclopedia was never completed, but by the end of 1843, Brecher had already submitted an entry on abortion and started writing his entry on bloodletting (phlebotomy) in the Talmud.37 Bringing together Brecher’s talmudic erudition and his medical knowledge, his encyclopedia entries

34 Adolf Bacher, great-granduncle of the Hungarian Jewish scholar Wilhelm (Vilmós) Bacher (1850–1913), lived in Prossnitz in the 1820s, where he taught Moritz Steinschneider Italian. See A. Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography, p. 114. 35 Letter from Abraham Geiger to Jakob Auerbach, July 29, 1941. See Ludwig Geiger, Abraham Geiger’s Nachgelassene Schriften, vol. 5 (Berlin: L. Gerschel, 1878), pp. 156–157. 36 Moritz Steinschneider, “Briefe über eine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaft des Judenthums,” Literaturblatt des Orients ( July 25, 1843): 465; Arndt Engelhardt, “Ord- nungen des Wissens und Kontexte der Selbstdeﬁnition—Zur Besonderheit deutsch- jüdischer Enzyklopädieprojekte im 19. Jahrhundert,” Leipziger Beiträge zur jüdischen Geschichte und Kultur 3 (2005): 92–94. 37 Letter from Moritz Steinschneider in Prague to David Cassel in Berlin, Dec. 30, 1843, JNUL, Jerusalem, Arc. MS. Var. 236, letter 3. Brecher dealt brieﬂy with abortion and bloodletting in his Das Transcendentale: Magie und magische Heilarten im Talmud (Vienna, 1850), p. 210. His son Alois Brecher subsequently published a full article on “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 47 drew on two sources of authority—revealed and empirical—which Brecher spent much of his life trying to reconcile.

Jewish Educational Reform in Prossnitz

The Haskalah, as a whole, put a strong emphasis on school reform, and in Moravia, Gideon Brecher—and his circle of Hebraists—stood at the vanguard of this movement. Already in 1838, Brecher wrote a series of letters to the Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums, putting forth his vision for Jewish educational reform.38 In his view, traditional religious instruction—which he characterized as “mythical explication of Holy Scripture, obfuscation of the text through aggadic obscurities, and mystiﬁcation of micrological observances”—was driving the youth away from Jewish observance. But excessive “rationalism” was not the solution either, since it ignored the fact that religion was, above all, a “matter of the soul” (Sache des Gemuethes). Thus, he insisted, any educational reforms had to strike a happy balance between rationalism and emotionalism. Brecher was a driving force behind school reform in the Prossnitz Jewish community in the late 1830s. Prossnitz’s Talmud Torah school, which provided religious instruction primarily for poor and orphaned children, had been run along the lines of a traditional eder until the Jewish communal board took steps to transform it into a modern Hebrew school (hebräische Lehranstalt) in 1838. At the beginning of the year, the board, which counted Brecher as a member, hired Joseph Weisse to be the principal of the revamped school and to design its curriculum. A twenty-six-year-old native of Plumenau (near Prossnitz), Weisse had spent the previous six years in Prague, where he had established life-long friendships with Brecher’s nephew, Moritz Steinschneider, and with Leopold Löw, who had taught in Prossnitz some years earlier. In Prague, he had also been mentored by Leopold Zunz, one of the founding fathers of Wissenschaft des Judentums. In his school curriculum, Weisse devoted special attention to the fundamen- tals of Hebrew grammar, which he viewed as a discrete discipline to

bloodletting in the Talmud; see “Aderlass im Talmud,” Prager Medicinische Wochenschrift, March 22 and 29, 1876. 38 Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums (April 17–23, 1838): 183–184, 195–196. 48 michael l. miller be studied systematically and methodologically. His curriculum was designed so that students could ﬁrst learn the basics and then progress incrementally to more difﬁcult or less quotidian subjects. All students were to take courses in Hebrew grammar, the Hebrew Bible, and the prayer book, and those who intended to become rabbis would go on to study Talmud (with Hirsch Fassel), Aramaic grammar, Aramaic Bible translations (Targumim), Jewish history and biblical geography. When Prossnitz’s revamped school opened its doors in 1838, Weisse marked the occasion by composing an original Hebrew poem.39 (In 1844, after Weisse had left Prossnitz, the Jewish community invited Moritz Steinschneider to become director of the school. On Fassel’s advice, Steinschneider did not return to his native Prossnitz, moving instead to Berlin.)40 The above-mentioned Ephraim Israel Blücher, a friend of Brecher’s, presumably hoped that his just published Aramaic grammar book (1838) would be used at the new Hebrew school in Prossnitz. Entitled Marpe lashon arami (The Wholesome Aramaic language), this work was composed for students who had mastered Hebrew grammar and now wanted to move on to Aramaic grammar.41 Blücher, who sometimes conducted his correspondence in Aramaic, hoped his book would help young students understand not only the Talmud and Midrash, but also the Book of the Zohar.42 The work was printed with approba- tions from Löw Schwab and Nehemias Trebitsch, former rabbis in Prossnitz, after having been proofread by Moritz Steinschneider, who was studying in Vienna at the time.43 Blücher’s textbook also featured a Hebrew poem by “the sage, the biblical and rabbinic philosopher, [and] doctor” Gideon Brecher.44 Written in rhymed verse, this was

39 The poem was subsequently published in Kokheve Yitzak II (1845): 75–76. 40 On the invitation, see A. Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” pp. 508–510. For Fas- sel’s letter to Steinschneider, then in Prague, see: Moritz Steinschneider Collection, Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, ARC 108, Box 13, Letter from Fassel to Steinschneider, Dec. 27, 1844. 41 Marpe lashon arami sive Grammatica Aramaica (Vienna: Anton Edler von Schmid, 1838), p. 20. 42 Ibid. In 1835, Blücher wrote a letter in Aramaic to Löw Schwab, who was then in Prossnitz. See Löw Schwab Archive, JNUL, Jerusalem, Arc. 4o 1619/12. Blücher also asked Samuel David Luzzatto for an approbation, but the Italian Jewish scholar refused, in part because Blücher’s book did not distinguish between the different phases of the Aramaic language. See Iggerot ShaDaL, vol. 1 (Przemysl: Zupnik & Knoller, 1882), pp. 427–428. 43 A. Marx, Essays in Jewish Bibliography, p. 116. 44 Brecher’s poem, “Shir meshubba,” comes after the title page. In his review of Blücher’s book, David Cassel pointed out a “few grammatical inaccuracies” (einige “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 49

Brecher’s ﬁrst published poem. In it, he apostrophized the Aramaic language, lamenting that the passage of time had “obscured the splen- dor (zohar) of your countenance with fog and darkness.” He praised Blücher for shining light on this long-neglected language in which “the sages of Israel had hidden pearls of mystery.” (Blücher returned the favor, composing a Hebrew poem for Brecher’s Kuzari commentary, the ﬁrst volume of which was also published in 1838.)

Commentary on Judah Halevi’s Book of the Kuzari, 1838–1840

Gideon Brecher’s Hebrew commentary on Judah Halevi’s Book of the Kuzari (Prague 1838–1840) was the apotheosis of the Moravian Haska- lah and the work with which Brecher was most closely identified. This commentary brought together the extraordinary constellation of Jew- ish scholars in Prossnitz, most of whom contributed, in one way or another, to Brecher’s Hebrew masterpiece.45 The Kuzari, a twelfth- century philosophical treatise and apologia for Judaism, was a favorite work of the early maskilim, in part because it explored “questions of the relationship between Judaism and philosophical reasoning.”46 Like his maskilic predecessors, Brecher was drawn to the Kuzari because it attempted to harmonize western philosophy and rabbinic Judaism, two traditions that were often considered at odds with one another. The Kuzari also hearkened back to the somewhat idealized Golden Age of Spanish Jewry, when Jews actively participated in the cultural life of their surroundings without sacrificing their religious faith and observance.47 Like the Moravian Haskalah in general, Brecher’s work was firmly rooted in Jewish tradition. First of all, he chose the well-established genre of commentary to express his own ideas. By writing glosses to Judah Halevi’s text, Brecher placed himself in a Jewish exegetical tradition extending deep into the Middle Ages. Second, he chose to write

gramm. Ungenauigkeiten) in Brecher’s poem. See David Cassel, “Literarische Uebersich- ten,” Literaturblatt des Orients ( Jan. 2, 1841): 4. 45 Jehuda Halevi, Ha-Kuzari, with Hebrew commentary by G. Brecher (Prague: M.I. Landau, 1838–1840). 46 Adam Shear, “Judah Halevi’s Kuzari in the Haskalah: The Reinterpretation and Reimagining of a Medieval Work,” in Renewing the Past, Reconfiguring Jewish Culture: From al-Andalus to the Haskalah, eds. Ross Brann and Adam Sutcliffe (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), p. 74. 47 Ismar Schorsch, “Myth of Sephardic Supremacy,” LBIYB 34 (1989): 47–66. 50 michael l. miller his commentary in Hebrew, even though German had a richer and more precise philosophical vocabulary. Thus, like many of the early maskilim, he attempted to renew Hebrew as a medium for philosophical and scientific inquiry. He even coined numerous neologisms for philosophical concepts that did not yet exist in Hebrew. Furthermore, his choice of Hebrew was especially appropriate for this particular commentary. Indeed, although Halevi originally wrote the Kuzari in Arabic, his medieval apologia for Judaism was an effusive paean to the Hebrew language (esp. Part 2, Chapter 68). The Kuzari offers a “strongly ethnocentric version of Judaism,” so it should come as no surprise that Brecher’s commentary on the above- mentioned chapter has an unmistakably “national” character.48 In the original text, Halevi stresses the sacred nature of Hebrew as the language of revelation, and Brecher takes the opportunity to reflect on the present condition of the Jews, whom he refers to here as “the Israelite nation” (ummah ha-yisraelit).49 According to Brecher, the moral and intellectual condition of a given nation (ha-ummah) is reflected in the state of its language (leshon kol am); as the “achievements and suc- cesses” (gedolot ve-hatzlaot) of that nation increase, so, too, does the state of its language. As Brecher explains, the versatility of the Hebrew language diminished over time, because “our thoughts” were unworthy of such a sublime language; “our thoughts demean the purity of the language,” he writes, and consequently foreign words had to be imported in order to “sweeten our thoughts and reveal our secrets.” He explains that the language lacks “words for sciences and arts,” a point that is indirectly strengthened by his decision to translate this very expression into German (Kunstausdrücke) and Latin (termini technici).50 By coining this expression—and many others—Brecher was doing his part to revive Hebrew as a language of the “sciences and arts,” and thereby restore “the Israelite nation” to its proper glory. One contemporary was very pleased with the result, noting that Brecher’s commentary was written in an “easily comprehensible, fluent Hebrew.”51

48 Adam Shear, “Judah Halevi’s Kuzari,” 72. 49 Jehuda Halevi, Ha-Kuzari, vol. 1 (Prague: Landau, 1838), pp. 78a–78b. 50 Among other terms that Brecher coins/employs are: yeshut kefulah = eine zweifalle Realität (32a); yesod oq ha-musari = Moralprinzip (53b); en miqre muletet nimtzet = es gibt keinen reinen Zufall (63b); ibbur kokheve shamayim = Sternbilder (72a). 51 “Das Buch Kuzari mit einem Commentar herausgegeben von G. Brecher,” Literaturblatt des Orients ( Jan. 25, 1840): 57. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 51

The “national” character of Brecher’s work was determined, in part, by its subject matter. Many maskilim were drawn to philosophy because of its universal truths, but the appeal of Judah Halevi’s Kuzari was often rooted in its distinctly “national” philosophy of religion. An early reviewer of Brecher’s Kuzari commentary observed that “the philosophical systems of all peoples” (die philosophischen Systeme aller Völker) are “the product of national characters” (das Produkt der Nationalcharaktere), and he lavished praise on the Kuzari as the quintessential expression of the Jews’ national character. “Of all . . . Jewish philosophical works,” he wrote, “none is as truly national (ächt national); none is more suited to the spirit of Judaism (dem Geiste des Judenthums) in all of its nuances— political, national, autonomous; none is as fruitful for the scientiﬁc development of the Jewish faith” as the Kuzari, referring to Brecher’s new edition.52 Similar sentiments were expressed by Rabbi Hayyim Josef Pollak of Trebitsch, whose rabbinic approbation extolled the new publication for its ability to show “the youth of our nation” (tse’ire bne ameynu) that “Israel is not an orphan” in the ﬁeld of philosophy.53 The Kuzari commentary was the fruit of Brecher’s pen, but it also illustrates the extent to which the Moravian Haskalah was a collabora- tive and highly intertwined project. In Prossnitz, Brecher could avail himself of Veit Ehrenstamm’s copy of the Kuzari, and he could also discuss his own work-in-progress with Rabbi Hirsch Fassel (who contributed an approbation to Vol. 2 of the Kuzari commentary), Josef Weisse (who contributed a critical essay to Vol. 4), as well as Baruch Schönfeld (1787–1862) and Ephraim Israel Blücher, two maskilim who contributed Hebrew poems to Vol. 1. Brecher’s nephew, Moritz Stein- schneider, was also an important resource. A student at Leipzig Uni- versity in 1839, Moritz could visit the local libraries on his uncle’s behalf and also promote Brecher’s commentary in the Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums and Der Orient, two German-Jewish weeklies that had recently been founded in Leipzig.54 Brecher corresponded with Rabbi

52 Ibid., 54–55. The publication of Brecher’s commentary was greatly anticipated in the pages of the Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums. See “Prossnitz (in Mähren),” Allge- meine Zeitung des Judenthums (March 15, 1838): 125. 53 Hayyim Josef Pollak, “Mikhtav,” in Jehuda Halevi, Ha-Kuzari (Prague: M.I. Lan- dau, 1838), p. 2b. 54 Letter from Gideon Brecher to Samuel David Luzzatto, 3 Av 5601 [ July 21, 1841]. Gideon Brecher Correspondence, JTSA, ARC 22, letter 16. Brecher mentions the assistance he received from Steinschneider. The latter was also trying to ﬁnd a publisher for Brecher’s work in Leipzig. 52 michael l. miller

Löw Schwab, who had left Prossnitz for Pest in 1836, and he also had an epistolary discussion about the Kuzari with Samuel David Luz- zatto (ShaDaL), an important Italian maskil in Padua.55 One of Luz- zatto’s letters was published in Vol. 2 of Brecher’s commentary, and part of their correspondence was published in Kokheve Yitzak in 1846.56 Not surprisingly, even the publication of these letters had a strong Moravian connection. Max Emanuel Stern, Kokheve Yitzak’s editor, who had briefly been a teacher in Triesch (Moravia’s “little Berlin”), thanked “our good friend” Moritz Steinschneider for providing the Luzzatto-Brecher correspondence.57 Brecher initiated his Hebrew correspondence with Luzzatto in 1839, perhaps at the encouragement of Ephraim Israel Blücher, who had exchanged a few letters with the Italian maskil the previous year, or perhaps at the suggestion of Steinschneider, who was also in regular contact with him.58 The Kuzari commentary appeared in installments, so Brecher was able to include Luzzatto’s first letter (March 7, 1839) in the publication, but not his second one ( June 18, 1840), which was written after the work had been completed.59 In any case, the first letter must have been more to Brecher’s liking, since it showered praise on his commentary, in contrast to the second letter, which sharply criticized it. In the first letter, Luzzatto suggested a few minor corrections and alternative interpretations, but his overall evaluation of Brecher’s work was quite positive. “Your commentary was sweet to my soul,” he wrote, “and had you perused Qol Yehudah, your labors would have been all the more complete.” Here, Luzzatto was referring to Judah Moscato’s classic commentary on the Kuzari (Venice 1594), which had apparently not been at Brecher’s disposal in Prossnitz.60 (David Cassel,

55 Letter from Gideon Brecher to Löw Schwab, Aug. 5, 1840. Löw Schwab Col- lection, JNUL 4º 1619/12. 56 “Schreiben von Prof. S.L. Luzzatto in Padua, mitgeteilt von Dr. Gideon Brecher in Prossnitz,” KI 5 (1846): 28–34; “Antwort des Dr. Gideon Brecher in Prossnitz,” KI 5 (1846): 35–36; KI 6 (1846): 95–100; and KI 7 (1846): 77–78. Some letters can also be found in the Gideon Brecher Correspondence, JTSA, ARC 22. 57 KI 5 (1846): 28; on Stern’s sojourn in Triesch in 1838, see Simon Deutsch and Franz Gräffer, Jüdischer Plutarch, vol. 1 (Vienna, 1848), pp. 246–252. 58 S. D. Luzzatto to E. Blücher in Prossnitz, June 11, 1838, in Iggerot ShaDaL, vol. 1 (Przemysl: Zupnik & Knoller, 1882), pp. 427–428. 59 S. D. Luzzatto to G. Brecher in Prossnitz, March 7, 1839, in Iggerot ShaDaL, vol. 1, pp. 592–596; S. D. Luzzatto to G. Brecher in Prossnitz, May 3, 1840, in ibid., pp. 689–696. 60 On this commentary, see Adam Shear, “Judah Moscato’s Scholarly Self-Image and the Question of Jewish Humanism,” in Cultural Intermediaries: Jewish Intellectuals in “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 53 who published his own Kuzari commentary in 1853, similarly criticized Brecher for ignoring Moscato.)61 In the second letter, Luzzatto excoriated Brecher for his naive and ahistorical approach to Jewish mysticism. Since the 1820s, Luzzatto had raised his pen in battle against the Kabbalah, challenging the traditional view that the Book of the Zohar, Kabbalah’s foundational text, was of ancient origin. Like Azariah de Rossi and others before him, Luzzatto exposed the Zohar as a thirteenth-century forgery and set out to demonstrate that core kabbalistic concepts—such as the ten sefirot, or divine emanations, that comprised the mystical godhead—had no antecedents in the rabbinic tradition.62 Defenders of Kabbalah’s antiquity—and authenticity—often pointed to The Book of Creation (Sefer Yetzirah), a pseudepigraphical work attributed to Abraham (and sometimes to Rabbi Akiva), which is the earliest Jewish work to mention the ten sefirot. Luzzatto did not question this book’s antiquity, but argued that the sefirot mentioned therein were merely numbers (from the Hebrew root sfr) having absolutely nothing to do with the kabbalistic sefirot (from the Greek sphaera). Luzzatto berated Brecher for equating the sefirot in the Book of Cre- ation with the sefirot in the Book of the Zohar, and even more so for claiming that Judah Halevi—whose Kuzari (Part 4, Chapter 25) provides an extensive commentary on the Book of Creation—was, himself, a kabbalist.63 “These things pain me,” wrote Luzzatto in his second letter to Brecher, and not only for the honor of Rabbi Judah Halevi, who is dear to my heart. More than this, it pains me when I see that in your efforts to fight the kabbalists (baale ha-sod), you give them strength by giving their ideas an ancient pedigree, by attributing these ideas to the authors of

Early Modern Italy, eds. David B. Ruderman and Giuseppe Veltri (Philadelphia: Uni- versity of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), pp. 149–177. 61 Jehuda Halevi, Sefer ha-Kuzari, with commentary by David Cassel (Leipzig: U.M. Colditz, 1853), p. xxxiv. 62 S. D. Luzzatto, Vikkua ‘al okhmat ha-qabbalah ve-‘al qadmut sefer ha-zohar ve-qadmut ha-neqqudot veha-te’amim (Gorice: Seitz, 1852). Luzzatto started writing this work in 1825, and he had tried to get it published already in 1838. See Jordan S. Penkower, “S.D. Luzzatto, Vowels and Accents, and the Date of the Zohar,” in Samuel David Luzzatto: The Bi-Centennial of His Birth, eds. Robert Bonﬁl, Isaac Gottlieb, and Hannah Kasher ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2004), p. 123, note 152. 63 On the Kuzari’s commentary on Sefer Yetzirah and its use by Italian kabbalists, in particular, see Adam Shear, The Kuzari and the Shaping of Jewish Identity, 1167–1900 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), pp. 125–126. 54 michael l. miller

the Kuzari and the Book of Creation. How will we ever succeed in distancing these superstitious beliefs from the children of our people when you, yourself, ascribe them to the great ones of our faith, Rabbi Judah Halevi and Rabbi Akiva?64 Following this rebuke, Luzzatto provided a detailed summary of his case against the Kabbalah, granting Brecher explicit permission to publish it, as he saw ﬁt. Brecher and Luzzatto did not see eye to eye on this matter, and their epistolary friendship—and scholarly cooperation—suffered a setback after Brecher’s decision not to publish Luzzatto’s second letter. Brecher had prepared a German translation of the Book of Creation, and in 1842, he asked Luzzatto to copy a certain Hebrew commentary on this work and send it to Prossnitz. Luzzatto informed Brecher that it was not worth his while, since he opposed Brecher’s apparent intention “to elucidate the words of the kabbalists.” In contrast, Luzzatto intended “to strengthen his argument against those [like Brecher] who ascribe kabbalistic ideas to our ancestors, the sages of the Mishnah and Talmud, and to Rabbi Judah Halevi.” Luzzatto also opposed Brecher’s project on linguistic grounds, since the latter planned to publish the commentary on the Book of Creation in German translation, not in the Hebrew original.65 Brecher’s plan to publish the Book of Creation in German is noteworthy, since his previous work had aimed, at least in part, at renewing Hebrew as the language of Jewish scholarship.66 The “easily comprehensible, ﬂuent Hebrew” of the Kuzari commentary attests to Brecher’s facility with the Hebrew language, as do a number of Hebrew epistles, poems and essays that he published (or prepared for publication) in the late 1830s and early 1840s. As already mentioned, Brecher’s correspondence with Luzzatto appeared in Kokheve Yitzak, but he also prepared original Hebrew compositions for other maskilic journals,

64 S. D. Luzzatto to G. Brecher in Prossnitz, May 3, 1840, in Iggerot ShaDaL, vol. 1, pp. 691–692. 65 S. D. Luzzatto to G. Brecher in Prossnitz, June 19, 1842, in Iggerot ShaDaL, vol. 1, pp. 792–793. 66 Moritz Steinschneider also shared this aim. See his introduction (written under the pseudonym “M.S. Charbonah”) to Hirsch Fassel, orev be-Ziyyon oder Briefe eines jüdischen Gelehrten und Rabbinen über das Werk: “Chorev: Versuche über Jissroels Pflichten in der Zerstreuung von S.R. Hirsch . . .”. Nebst einer Abhandlung über die Möglichkeit einer Abschaf- fung bestehender Gebräuche im Judenthum vom orthodoxen Standpunkte (Leipzig: C.L. Fritzsche, 1839), pp. ix–x. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 55 such as Yerushalayim (1844–1845), a self-styled continuation of Bikkure ha-Ittim, which was published in Zolkiew, Lemberg and Prague, and featured “all things dear, written in our holy language.”67 Brecher’s Hebrew writings in this period are significant, because they adumbrate themes developed in his later German-language works. In 1844, for example, he published three Hebrew poems in Yerushalayim, which are more noteworthy for their subject matter than for their poetic style.68 Entitled “The Existence of God,” “Immortality of the Soul,” and “Reward and Punishment,” each of these poems deals with a tenet of natural religion, tenets that could purportedly be demonstrated on the basis of reason and empirical observation. In the 1850s, he returned again to the theme of immortality, writing an entire treatise—this time in German—on The Doctrine of Immortality according to the Israelite People. (In a subsequent volume of Yerushalayim, Brecher published a historical-exegetical essay, assigning authorship of Psalm 141 to “a God-fearing priest in the days of Matitiyahu ben Yonatan,” rather than to King David.)69 In the early 1840s, Brecher also wrote a Hebrew essay on the terafim, the idols or household gods that make an appearance in the books of Genesis, Judges, Hosea, Samuel, Ezechiel, Zecharaiah and Kings. Here, Brecher undertook an etymological and historical excursus, concluding that the teraphim were phallus-shaped pillars at the center of an ancient fertility cult, which had spread from India to the ancient Near East. (The word teraphim, he contended, is etymologically similar to Arabic and Aramaic words for genitalia.) He argued that the idols worshiped by the Midianites, Moabites and Assyrians (Peor, Baal, Baal-Peor, Ashtarte) were all variations of the ancient Hindu Lingam, as were the teraphim mentioned in the Hebrew Bible. Brecher took a particular interest in this topic, because the teraphim shed light on

67 Yerushalayim. 3 (Prague, 1845), title page. See also Shmuel Feiner, Haskalah and History, tr. Chaya Naor and Sondra Silverston (Oxford: Littman Library, 2002), p. 140. 68 “Metziut ha-el,” “Hasharat ha-nefesh,” and “Gemul ve-onesh.” These poems appeared in the first volume of Yerushalayim, called Yerushalayim ha-benuyah 1, no. 8 (Zolkiew, 1844): 86–87. 69 G. Brecher, “Bi ur mizmor 141 bi-tehillim,” Yerushalayim 3 (Prague, 1845): 22–25. This psalm, traditionally attributed to King David, was usually understood to refer to events in the time of Moses and Aaron. Brecher, however, dated it to the time of the Maccabees, taking it for granted that this psalm, like many others, was composed centuries after King David’s death. He assigned authorship to “a God-fearing priest in the days of Matitiyahu ben Yonatan,” who had been “roused to scream out in bitterness and pour out his entreaties before the Lord from the depths of his heart.” 56 michael l. miller the historical context in which Jewish doctrines, such as the immortality of the soul, crystallized. More importantly, the teraphim—and the ancient fertility cults, in general—illustrated how ancient peoples understood the transcendental and magical powers of the divine. In the 1850s, Brecher delved deeper into this question, examining how such ancient beliefs had influenced the rabbis of the Talmud. In fact, his excursus on the teraphim—written in Hebrew in 1842—was first published (in German translation) in The Transcendental: Magic and Magi- cal Healing Art in the Talmud, which he completed in 1850.70 (The original Hebrew text was only published in 1861.)71

Homeopathy and the “Vital Force”

Brecher’s interest in transcendental and magical powers extended to the medical field, as evidenced by his increasing fascination with homeopathy. First formulated in 1796 by the German physician Samuel Hahnemann (1755–1843), homeopathy is based on the principle of similia similibus curantur (“like cures like”) and, as such, offers an alternative to conventional medicine (“allopathy”). Homeopathy treats diseases with highly diluted substances that, in a healthy person, would cause the symptoms of these very same diseases. It understands disease as a disturbance to a person’s “vital force,” which can be remedied by the energy released during the preparation of these diluted substances. Homeopathy was quite often viewed by conventional physicians as quackery or pseudo-science, but it gradually made inroads in Moravia (and elsewhere) during the first decades of the nineteenth century. In Prossnitz, the first homeopathic practice was set up in 1839 by Dr. Adolf Haas, who introduced “many doctors of this town” to this new form of alternative medicine.72 In nearby Boskowitz, Elias Altschul (1797–1865), a Prague-born Jew, became acquainted with homeopathy

70 “Exkurs. Ueber die biblische Theraphim,” in Gideon Brecher, Das Transcenden- tale: Magie und magische Heilarten im Talmud (Vienna, 1850), pp. 137–147. In a footnote on p. 137, Brecher states that this excursus was first composed in Hebrew in 1842. 71 “Biur inyan ha-terafim,” Otzar okhma 2, no. 1 (1861): 69–73. 72 Elias Altschul, “Weitere Beiträge zur Geschichte der Homöopathie in Mähren,” Prager Medicinische Monatschrift für Homöopathie, Balneotherapie und Hydropathie 5 ( Jan. 1857): 5–6; Dr. Hože, “Materialien zur Geschichte der Homöopathie in Mähren,” Allgemeine homöopathische Zeitung (Leipzig), (Dec. 8 and 15, 1856): 102–104, 111–112. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 57 in the mid-1830s; he returned to Prague in 1837, became a docent at Prague’s medical school in 1849 and founded one of Austria’s first homeopathic journals in 1853. Like Brecher, Altschul had studied medicine at the University of Pest.73 Brecher may have been introduced to homeopathy by Haas or Altschul, or he may have even familiarized himself with it during his sojourn in Pest (even though homeopathy was officially forbidden in Hungary until 1837).74 In any case, by 1844, he could write his Uncle Ber about “the day when I [first] laid my eyes and heart on the healing technique which is called homoeopathic method.”75 Ber also experimented with homeopathy and, in a letter to Brecher from 1847, described “the small box full of little homeopathic flasks” (das Kästchen voll homöopathischer Fläschchen), which he rendered into Hebrew as “a small box full of small tubes, prepared [as] preparation against preparation” (argaz qatan male tzintzanot qetanot, arukhot maarakhah mul maarakhah).76 By the 1850s, Brecher’s name regularly appeared on lists of homeopaths in Moravia.77 Brecher’s professional interest in homeopathy, like his scholarly interest in magic and mysticism, may have been rooted in his life-long exploration of the relationship between the spiritual and the material sides of human existence. Significantly, homeopathy was sometimes called “Christian” or “spiritualistic” medicine, because it placed greater importance on “curing the soul” than on “curing the body.”78 As one contemporary homeopath observed, the Jews’ perennial concern with “temporal goods” (zeitliche Güter) resulted in an inordinate preoccupation with medicinal (as opposed to spiritual) cures, to such an extent that “for a long time, it was believed that, in order to be a good doctor, one had to profess the Jewish religion.”79 Interestingly,

73 Neue Zeitschrift für Homöopathische Klinik (Dresden), (Aug. 16, 1865): 127; Fritz Schroers (ed.), Lexikon deutschsprachiger Homöopathen (Stuttgart: Karl F. Haug, 2006), p. 2. 74 Christian Lucae, Homöopathie an deutschsprachigen Universitäten (Heidelberg: Haug, 1998), p. 73. 75 Letter from Gideon Brecher to Ber Schiff, 20 Tevet 5604 [ Jan. 12, 1844]. Gideon Brecher Correspondence, JTSA, ARC 22, letter 50. 76 Letter from Ber Schiff to Gideon Brecher, 29 Kislev 5608 [Dec. 7, 1847]. Gideon Brecher Correspondence, JTSA, ARC 22, letter 163. 77 Allgemeine homöopathische Zeitung (Leipzig), (April 2, 1855): 167; (Dec. 15, 1856): 112; V. Meyer, Homöopathischer Führer für Deutschland und das gesammte Ausland (Leipzig, 1860), pp. 4, 54. 78 Hygea: Zeitschrift besonders für speciﬁsche Heilkunst 9 (1839): 239. 79 Ibid. 58 michael l. miller some homeopaths likened the rejection of homeopathy to the rejection of Jesus, accusing “allopathic rabbis” of failing to recognize the truth, for fear of being “cast out of the allopathic synagogue.” To extend the metaphor, members of the “clerical profession” had denounced “our Savior as an imposter, his doctrines as fallacies,” and now professors of allopathy opposed homeopathy out of the “same rabbinical motives.”80 There is no evidence that Brecher’s interest in homeopathy had anything to do with the Christian-Jewish polemic, but it certainly touched upon theological questions that occupied him for much of his life, indeed, questions for which conventional medicine had no satisfactory answers. The “vital force” is sometimes identiﬁed with the human soul, and, as a central “doctrine” of homeopathy, it may have provided Brecher with some insights into the immortality of the soul. It may have also informed his views on magic and mysticism in the Jewish tradition, two topics that continued to occupy his scholarly interest (much to Luzzatto’s chagrin).81

The Circumcision of the Israelites (Vienna, 1845)

In 1845, Brecher published The Circumcision of the Israelites, a scholarly work that drew not only on his talmudic and empirical expertise, but also on his ramiﬁed network of Prossnitz Jews.82 Unlike his commentary on the Kuzari or his poems in Yerushalayim, this work was composed in German and represented an effort to engage in one of the most hotly-debated topics of the day: ritual circumcision among the Jews.83 Circumcision came under a two-pronged attack in the 1840s, as Jews and non-Jews alike subjected this Jewish custom to

80 Erastus Edgerton Marcy, Homoeopathy and Allopathy (New York, 1852), pp. 127– 128. 81 In Brecher’s Prossnitzer Wochenblatt obituary, a full paragraph is devoted to his experimentation with homeopathy. The obituary was reprinted in Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums ( June 17, 1873): 406–408. 82 G. Brecher, Die Beschneidung der Israeliten, von der historischen, praktisch-operativen und ritualen Seite, zunächst für den Selbstunterricht (Vienna: Selbstverlag, 1845). For a review, see David Oppenheim, “Literarische Nachrichten,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums (March 2, 1846): 149–152. 83 On the circumcision debates, see Robin Judd, Contested Rituals: Circumcision, Kosher Butchering and Jewish Political Life in Germany, 1843–1933 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2007), and John M. Efron, Medicine and the German Jews (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001). “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 59 ever-increasing scrutiny. In 1842, the Austrian authorities made an ofﬁcial inquiry into the practice of circumcision, asking Jewish communities in the Habsburg Empire to elaborate on the methods and health risks of the procedure and to describe the training and supervision of the circumciser (mohel).84 In the following year, a group of Jewish reformers in Frankfurt am Main resolved to abolish circumcision and replace it with a purely symbolic initiation ceremony. The members of this group, known as the “Friends of Reform,” regarded circumcision as barbaric and physically dangerous, but above all, they rejected its intrinsically particularizing character. Rabbis and medical doctors played a central role in the larger debate, lending their authority to a range of arguments in favor of maintaining, reforming, or abolishing circumcision. Brecher, himself, had already performed almost 300 circumcisions (including those of his own sons), so he could add practical experience to medical knowledge in his staunch defense of this age-old ritual.85 He also appealed to the authority of history, not only to defend circumcision against its Jewish detractors, but also to argue for the elimination of metzitzah (sucking the blood of the circumcision wound), the most controversial part of the whole procedure. Brecher viewed circumcision as inherently salubrious, but there were aspects that he—as a medical doctor—found utterly repugnant. Like other defenders of the ritual, he argued that circumcision provided immunity against a number of life-threatening illnesses (e.g., phimosis and paraphimosis), but he also expressed concern that metzitzah might facilitate the transmission of disease, since the mohel customarily sucked the wound with his mouth in order to draw out the blood. Brecher was particularly worried about the spread of venereal disease from the mohel’s mouth to the baby’s sensitive organ. (As Brecher noted, Johann Nepomunk Rust had speculated that a syphilitic mohel had caused an outbreak of syphilis among newborn boys in Krakow’s Jewish quarter at the beginning of the nineteenth century.)86 Brecher was committed to eliminating metzitzah, but he wished to do so within the bounds of the halakhic tradition.87 More radical reformers

84 G. Brecher, Die Beschneidung der Israeliten, pp. 45–46. 85 Ibid., “Vorwort,” p. 3. 86 Ibid., 48–49. Brecher refers to J.N. Rust, Helkologie (Vienna, 1811). 87 On the metzitzah controversy, see Jacob Katz, “Controversy Over the Mezizah: The Unrestricted Execution of the Rite of Circumcision,” in Divine Law in Human Hands: Case Studies in Halakhic Flexibility ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1998), pp. 357–402. 60 michael l. miller could arbitrarily reject metzitzah or simply argue that it was not of biblical origin, but Brecher felt obliged to explain away the custom by understanding its historical development. Metzitzah, he argued, had never been an integral part of circumcision, but was added by the talmudic rabbis as a safety precaution to prevent excessive bleeding. Since its original function was medical—and not religious—Brecher could justify the elimination of metzitzah by showing that the medical assumptions of the Talmud were no longer valid; i.e., when the rabbis introduced metzitzah, syphilis had not yet been brought over from the New World. Thus, what had been introduced as a safety precaution now endangered lives. Moreover, he noted, modern medicine had developed “less repugnant methods” for stopping bleeding. Hirsch Fassel wrote a lengthy approbation of the book, in which he echoed Brecher’s argument about the invalidity of talmudic medical practices in modern times. Fassel even went so far as to invert the talmudic injunction that a mohel who fails to perform metzitzah should be dismissed. To the contrary, argued Fassel, the mohel who performs this repugnant custom should be the one dismissed. “I openly declare myself in favor of eliminating metzitzah,” he wrote towards the end of his approbation, “and I have not performed it for a long time.”88 Fassel and Brecher’s attack on metzitzah was matched by an equally fervent defense of ritual circumcision as a whole. Fassel drew primarily on biblical and talmudic sources (as well as the Mishne Torah and Shulan Arukh) to build a halakhic argument in defense of circumcision, while Brecher supplemented the biblical and talmudic sources with Philo, Josephus, Tacitus, as well as contemporary works of German scholarship, to shape a historical argument with strong national overtones. Brecher emphasized the historical continuity of circumcision from ancient times to the present, noting that this “custom, so closely linked to nationality” (mit der Nationalität so engverknüpfter Gebrauch), was suspended only during the forty years of wandering in the desert. He argued that it took on special signiﬁcance during Greek and Roman times, when circumcision was occasionally forbidden and Jews sometimes opted to undergo painful epispasm procedures (restoration of the foreskin). In this period, circumcision “regained its original holiness,”

88 Hirsch B. Fassel, “Approbationsschreiben des herren Ortsrabbinier Hirsch B. Fassel,” in G. Brecher, Die Beschneidung der Israeliten, pp. 13–17. See also J. Katz, “Con- troversy Over the Mezizah,” p. 372. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 61 leaving a deep impact on the Jews’ sense of “peoplehood” (Volksthüm- lichkeit) by simultaneously separating them from other nations and serving as a symbol of the covenant that God had made with the Israelites.89 At this time circumcision became an “expression of the religious confession” (Manifestation des Glaubensbekenntnisses), a “national badge of Israelite-hood” (nationale Abzeichen des Israelitenthumes), the “absolutely essential and sacred cement binding the individual to the nation and to God.” Brecher’s argument was bolstered by an “epistle” by his nephew, appended to The Circumcision of the Israelites and entitled The Circumcision of the Arabs and Mohammedans. Here Steinschneider examined biblical and rabbinic sources pertaining to circumcision among the ancient Ishmaelites, Gibeonites, Edomites, Midianites, and Nabateans, as well as Koranic sources pertaining to circumcision among Muslims.90 He noted that the Koran does not contain any positive commandment with regard to circumcision, arguing that Islam originally viewed circumcision as a means for “corporeal perfection” (körperliche Vollkommenheit). By denying the religious or spiritual signiﬁcance of Arab and Muslim circumcision, Steinschneider, in effect, conﬁrmed this ritual’s singular role as a “covenant of blood” between God and Israel. Together with Fassel’s approbation, his “epistle” not only strengthened Brecher’s core argument, but also joined the three Prossnitz Jews in a common scholarly pursuit. Brecher’s book was such a strong defense of circumcision that it even included a “practical-operative” chapter for self-instruction, followed by the Hebrew liturgy for a brit milah (circumcision) ceremony. Indeed, The Circumcision of the Israelites was not conceived solely as a scholarly (or polemical) treatise, but rather as a medically-, historically- and halakhically-informed handbook to promote the “national badge of Israelite-hood.” Brecher’s Uncle Ber lavished effusive praise on the book, extolling his nephew for marching “like a warrior, girded with the armor of medical science and surgery, with the helmet of

89 G. Brecher, Die Beschneidung der Israeliten, p. 36 (unumgänglich nothwendige und heilige Bindemittel des Individuums an der [sic] Nation und an Gott). 90 M. Steinschneider, Die Beschneidung der Araber und Muhammedaner, mit Rücksicht auf die neueste Beschneidungsliteratur. Sendschreiben an Herrn Gideon Brecher (Vienna: Selbstverlag, 1845). This work was republished in an expanded version in Abraham Glassberg, Die Beschneidung in ihrer geschichtlichen, ethnographischen, religiösen und medicinischen Bedeutung (Berlin: Boas, 1896). It also appeared as a separate volume (likewise published by Glassberg) in 1892. 62 michael l. miller the Talmud and Midrash on your head.” In his Hebrew letter, Ber underscored the two sources of his nephew’s authority—scientific and halakhic—and also commended him for fighting “a holy war on the battlefield, out of love for the truth [and] compassion for the children of Yeshurun, so that their souls will not be diminished, because the blood is the soul.”91 In quoting Deuteronomy 12:23 (“the blood is the soul”), Ber may have been alluding to Brecher’s strident opposition to metzitzah, implying that the blood of the circumcision, like all blood, contains the essence of life, and the mohel should therefore not suck it from the wound. In any case, Ber’s allusion touched upon the nature of the human soul, a topic that may have been peripheral to Brecher’s treatise on circumcision, but always remained at the forefront of his intellectual and literary pursuits.

The Transcendental: Magic and Magical Healing Art in the Talmud (Vienna, 1850)

In 1850, Brecher published The Transcendental: Magic and Magical Healing Art in the Talmud, a 233-page compendium, a collection of talmudic passages dealing with the subjects mentioned in the title, systematically divided into chapters on theology and angelology; demonology; the human soul; prophecy; dreams; magic; cosmic and magical influences on man and his condition; and magical healing.92 He envisioned the volume, first and foremost, as a reference work, which would make the “Sea of the Talmud” more easily navigable for the scholar who would otherwise have to “swim the infinite ocean” in order to find the scattered passages related to such non-legalistic matters.93 The fact that such a compendium had never before been published was indicative of the unease that many Jews felt towards the “nonsense” and “superstition” in some of the rabbinic teachings. Brecher was fully aware that the Ugly and Erroneous would appear alongside the True, Good and Beautiful, and he marshaled this as proof that he was writing a work of rigorous scholarship, not “an apologia for the Talmud.”94 Moritz

91 Letter from Ber Schiff to Gideon Brecher, 2 Adar 5606 [Feb. 28, 1846]. Gideon Brecher Correspondence, JTSA, ARC 22, letter 154. 92 G. Brecher, Das Transcendentale: Magie und magische Heilarten im Talmud (Vienna, 1850). 93 Ibid., pp. v–vi. 94 Ibid., p. viii. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 63

Steinschneider echoed this claim, calling his uncle’s book “neither apologetic nor critical, but merely a reference work, with the addition of a few interesting parallels from recent writings on magnetism, somnambulism, etc.”95 Brecher’s and Steinschneider’s claims notwithstanding, The Tran- scendental has an unmistakably apologetic tone. In his work, Brecher cites many superstitious and seemingly nonsensical passages from the Talmud, readily dismissing them as mere expressions of “Judaism at that time” (das damalige Judenthum).96 By historicizing these problematic passages, he relegates them to the realm of antiquarian curiosity. Per- haps they can provide the archaeologist and philosopher with “a true reﬂection of those centuries” (ein getreuer Zeitspiegel jener Jahrhunderte), or even give a glimpse into what the rabbis of the Talmud believed to be “good and true”; but, as Brecher duly observes, some of what the rabbis believed to be “good and true” in talmudic times appeared “frivolous” and “bizarre” by modern standards.97 (In his commentary on the Kuzari, Brecher used a similar line of reasoning when dismissing some of Halevi’s out-of-date philosophical views. Likewise, in The Cir- cumcision of the Israelites, he argued similarly for eliminating metzitzah.) The Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums lavished praise on Brecher’s book, because it portrayed the talmudic rabbis “as they were,” without attempting to artiﬁcially reconcile their primitive worldview with the latest philosophical trends.98 “It demonstrates what we have known for a long time,” declared the German-Jewish newspaper: “that the rabbis of the Talmud were not philosophers . . .” They may have been “giants” in expositing the Law, but remained “children” and “full of idiocy” (voll Blödigkeit) in the realm of moral teaching.99 According to the book review, the Jewish people were the carriers of this moral teaching, and the rabbis had been tasked with constructing a carapace (Schale) to safeguard it against “the hammers of the Middle Ages.” This carapace

95 M. Steinschneider, Review of Gideon Brecher’s Das Transcendentale, Magie und magische Heilarten im Talmud, in Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 5 (1851): 274–275. 96 G. Brecher, Das Transcendentale, p. vi. Meir Letteris’ review in Wiener Blätter (Feb. 23, 1851): 106–7, also notes that Brecher’s work has an apologetic tone: “the Herr Doctor was not able to fully free himself from a certain subjective Weltanschauung.” 97 Ibid. See also Giuseppe Veltri, Magie und Halakha: Ansätze zu einem empirischen Wis- senschaftsbegriff im spätantiken und frühmittelalterlichen Judentum (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), p. 6. 98 “Literarische Nachrichten,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums (April 2–May 19, 1851): 200–203, 225–228, 235–237, 249–252. 99 Ibid., 200–201. 64 michael l. miller provided protection in times of persecution, but now that the Middle Ages had passed and the moral teaching had been safeguarded, the Talmudists had little left to contribute. Nevertheless, the newspaper appears to have overstated Brecher’s position on the Talmud. Although the latter was not a systematic philosophical treatise, Brecher still viewed it as the foundational text of “rabbinic Judaism,” since the Talmud—and not the Bible—served as the source of Judaism’s ethics, dogma, ritual practices and general worldview.100 However imperfect, the Talmud still remained indispensable for understanding the origins and development of Jewish traditions and beliefs.

From Master of Surgery & Obstetrics to Doctor of Medicine: University of Erlangen, 1851

The Transcendental catalogued various folk remedies and “magical healing arts” in the Talmud, such as a cure for eye problems using the spittle of a first-born son (BT Baba Batra 169b),101 and a treatment for flatulence by consuming radish, watercress or warm water, while reciting a magical incantation (BT Pesaim 116a).102 Such remedies did not represent the cutting edge of nineteenth-century medicine, but Brecher’s study of these remedies and “healing arts” was sufficient to earn him a doctorate in medicine at the University of Erlangen in Bavaria. Brecher had received his Masters in Surgery and Obstetrics from the University of Pest in 1824, and in 1850 he began corresponding with the medical faculty at the University of Erlangen in the hopes of obtaining a doctorate on the merits of his recent scholarship. The university did not require any coursework, so Brecher hoped he could take his exams by mail and receive a “Promotio in abstentio,” without having to embark on the lengthy and costly journey from Prossnitz to Erlangen.103 On April 26, 1850, he sent a manuscript copy of The Transcendental to the medical faculty in Erlangen, along with exempla

100 G. Brecher, Das Transcendentale, p. vi. See also “Kurze Anzeigen. Zur Kennt- niss der Geschichte und der wissenschaftlichen Gegenstände des Talmuds,” Der Orient ( Jan. 11, 1851, Sonderheft): 481. 101 G. Brecher, Das Transcendentale, p. 211. 102 Ibid., 232. 103 Universitätsarchiv Erlangen-Nürnberg (UAE): C3/3 Nr. 1849/50–13, f. 1a. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 65 of his commentary on the Kuzari and his work on circumcision.104 On May 10, 1850, he sent a separate letter to the dean of the medical faculty, Dr. Johann Ferdinand Heyfelder (1798–1869), describing his 26 years “in the service of humanity,” his well-earned “trust and recognition by the public,” and his indefatigable efforts on behalf of the “needy and destitute people” of Prossnitz.105 He provided certiﬁcates attesting to these accomplishments, and hoped his books (and manuscript) would demonstrate his “love for science in the struggle for practical life.”106 Heyfelder was apparently sufﬁciently impressed, and he invited Brecher to sit for his exams at the University of Erlangen. After obtaining Bavarian travel papers, Brecher set off from Prossnitz on May 27, 1851, and arrived in Erlangen a week later. On June 4, 1851, after answering written questions about dyscrasia, laxation of the upper arm and the medicinal uses of argan oil, he was awarded the title Doctoris medicinae et chirurgiae from the University of Erlangen.107

Shortly after Brecher received his doctorate, a Viennese Jewish newspaper reported that he was preparing a book on dietetics and pathology in the Talmud.108 This planned work was presumably based on the extensive research he had already conducted for his entries in the Real-Encyclopädie des Judenthums, which Moritz Steinschneider and David Cassel had hoped to publish a few years earlier. Unfor- tunately, Brecher’s research met the same fate as the encyclopedia project, and his manuscript notes remain unpublished to this day. (They were acquired by the Library of the Jewish Theological Semi- nary of America, together with Moritz Steinschneider’s library and correspondence.)109 In his notes, Brecher organized talmudic passages under various rubrics, including Materia medica, doctors, anatomy, surgery, physiology, gynecology, pathology, therapy, dietetics and the transcendental. Materia medica included talmudic passages dealing

104 Ibid., ff. 4a–5b; a partial manuscript of Das Transcendentale can be found on ff. 9a-31b. 105 Ibid., ff. 6a–7b (“im Dienste der Menschheit”; “das Zutrauen und die Anerken- nung des Publikums”). 106 Ibid., f. 6b (“die Liebe zu den Wissenschaften im Kampfe des praktischen Lebens”). 107 His handwritten answers can be found on ff. 32a–46b; his diploma on f. 49. 108 Wiener Blätter, Aug. 17, 1851; it is also referred to in Steinschneider’s review of Das Transcendentale, which appeared in the Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 5 (1851): 274–275. 109 JTSA MS 2757. The 348-leaf manuscript is entitled “Talmudische Medicin” in German and “okhmat ha-refuah ba-Talmud ” in Hebrew. 66 michael l. miller with sore throats, colic, cataracts, diarrhea, constipation, toothaches, anthrax, rabies, etc. Of course, his seven pages of notes on “the transcendental” had served as the basis for The Transcendental compendium, so we can only imagine what might have come out of the material he had assembled on gynecology, pathology, dietetics, etc.110 We can speculate that Moritz Steinschneider’s interest in the history of Jews and medicine stemmed, in part, from his uncle’s passion for the subject. In his groundbreaking essay, Jewish Literature from the Eighth to the Eighteenth Century (1850; 1857), Steinschneider devoted an entire section to “Medicine and Natural History,” which he introduced with the following words: “The labors of the Jews in the department of Medicine belong to that part of the history of literature and civilization which is generally supposed to be known, but is seldom specially investigated.”111 Steinschneider, himself, published numerous articles on Jewish physicians in the Arab lands, which appeared in the Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft, Hebräische Bibliogra- phie and other scholarly journals from the 1850s to 1890s.112 His most important work in this ﬁeld was a lengthy article on Shabbatai Don- nolo (a tenth-century Italian Jew), author of “the oldest medical work in the Hebrew language,” which appeared in the Archiv für pathologische Anatomie in 1868.113 As a ﬁtting tribute, Steinschneider dedicated this work to Gideon Brecher on the occasion of his seventieth birthday (albeit one year late).114 The book contains a glossary of medical terms in Hebrew, which can also be found in manuscript form in his uncle’s papers.115 Indeed, it is possible that Brecher compiled this glossary during his work on the Real-Encyclopädie.

110 In his obituary for Gideon Brecher, Moritz Steinschneider described the contents of this manuscript and marveled that a mere seven pages of notes had produced an entire book. See HB 13 (1873): 139. 111 M. Steinschneider, JL/E, p. 193. The essay was originally written for Ersch and Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste [= JL/G] (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1850) during the years 1845–1847 and expanded for the English-language version in 1857. 112 For a full list, see M. Steinschneider, “Schriften über Medicin in Bibel und Tal- mud und über jüdische Aerzte,” Wiener klinische Rundschau 25–26 (1896). 113 It also appeared as a separate offprint: M. Steinschneider, Donnolo: Pharmakologi- sche Fragmente aus dem zehnten Jahrhundert (Berlin: Julius Bezian, 1868). 114 The dedication can be found at the beginning of the offprint. 115 Ibid., pp. 72–91. The glossary appears on ff. 1a–13b of JTSA MS 2757. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 67

The Doctrine of Immortality according to the Israelite People (Leipzig, 1857)

By the mid-1850s, Brecher’s interest in medicine was limited largely to his medical practice in Prossnitz. His writings dealt with more metaphysical matters, which had also occupied him in previous decades. In 1857, Brecher published a thin treatise on the immortality of the soul, entitled The Doctrine of Immortality according to the Israelite People. He had already explored this doctrine in his Kuzari commentary as well as in The Transcendental and, in 1844, had even published a Hebrew poem entitled “Immortality of the Soul.” His 1857 treatise, however, was an in-depth study, devoted entirely to this subject. The soul’s immortality was a favorite topic for Jewish enlighteners, most notably Moses Mendelssohn, whose Phaedon, or: On the Immortality of the Soul (1764) earned him the moniker “German Socrates.” In Phaedon, Mendelssohn reworked Plato’s original dialogues, drawing on the writings of Chris- tian Wolff and Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz to provide a philosophical proof for the immortality of the soul.116 Mendelssohn’s treatise paid no heed to biblical texts, for Phaedon operated in the realm of natural theology (as opposed to revealed theology) and, as such, aimed to demonstrate the immortality of the soul on the basis of reason and empirical observation. Indeed, immortality of the soul was one of the few tenets of natural religion, since it provided a necessary condition for reward and punishment in the afterlife, thereby laying a rational basis for human morality. As Immanuel Kant later put it in his Critique of Practical Reason (1788), “the highest good is practically possible only on the supposition of the immortality of the soul, and the latter, as inseparably bound to the moral law, is a postulate of pure practical reason.”117 Brecher’s interest in immortality was shaped more by the Christian- Jewish polemic than by the moral philosophy of Mendelssohn, Wolff, Leibniz, or Kant. For centuries, Christian polemicists sought to demonstrate the superiority of Christianity over Judaism, by claiming that Judaism rejected the belief in the immortality of the soul. During the

116 Allan Arkush, Moses Mendelssohn and the Enlightenment (Albany: SUNY Press, 1994), pp. 14–20. 117 Immanuel Kant, Critique of Practical Reason (1788), ed., tr. Lewis White Beck (New York: Macmillan, 1956), p. 129. 68 michael l. miller

French Enlightenment, this view even found expression in the writings of Voltaire, who declared in his Philosophical Dictionary (1764) that “[t]heir legislator himself [i.e., Moses] does not anywhere speak expressly of the immortality of the soul, nor of the rewards of another life.”118 Of course, Voltaire’s claim had a long pedigree, as the French- Jewish Orientalist Salomon Munk (1803–1867) pointed out several decades later. “This reproach,” observed Munk in 1833, “repeated with so much pretense [avec tant d’affectation] in the last century, and even still in our days, does not have the merit of novelty.”119 Nevertheless, Voltaire’s reproach reflected the widely-held position that the doctrine of the immortality of the soul was nowhere to be found in the Five Books of Moses. Even Moses Mendelssohn’s posthumously published Hebrew treatise, Sefer ha-Nefesh (The Book on the Soul, 1787), did little to dispel this perception. Here, as in Phaedon, Mendelssohn appealed to reason, not revelation, to demonstrate the immortality of the soul, and—as Alexander Altmann has shown—he used biblical and rabbinic quotations “not . . . as theological proof-texts but as stylistic devices that help to give the essay a decidedly Jewish flavor . . .”120 Even religious reformers, who considered immortality of the soul a core principle of faith, had difficulty demonstrating its scriptural basis. Rabbi Salomon Formstecher (1808–1889), for example, admitted that any such attempt would “founder against the rocks of sober, impartial criticism.” To his mind, the very fact that the Talmud denies a portion in the world to come to anyone who maintains that resurrection is not a biblical doctrine (BT Sanhedrin 90a) means that “it is, in fact, possible not to find the doctrine of immortality in the Holy Scriptures.”121 Salomon Munk put it even more bluntly: “It is highly probable that Moses was familiar with this principle, but it is entirely certain that in the work attributed to him, it is nowhere in sight.”122

118 Voltaire, Philosophical Dictionary, tr. William F. Fleming (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901). Cited in Richard S. Levy, Antisemitism in the Modern World: An Anthology of Texts (Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath, 1991), p. 40. 119 Salomon Munk, “Réﬂexions sur le culte des anciens Hébreux dans ses rapports avec les autres cultes d’antiquité,” in La Bible, vol. 4, translated into French by Samuel Cahen (Paris, 1833), p. 5. 120 Alexander Altmann, Moses Mendelssohn: A Biographical Study (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973), p. 184. 121 Salomon Formstecher, “Beitrag zur Entwickelungsgeschichte des Begriffs von der Unsterblichkeit der Seele im Judenthume,” Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift für jüdische Theologie 4:2 (1839): 236–237. 122 S. Munk, “Réﬂexions sur le culte des anciens Hébreux,” p. 9. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 69

Munk and Formstecher were among the more than seventy-five authors, both Jewish and Christian, who—in the second half of the eighteenth and first half of the nineteenth centuries—wrote inquiries into the scriptural origins of the immortality of the soul.123 In the 1850s, a flurry of books on this topic appeared, including Gideon Brecher’s treatise and Hermann Engelbert’s The Negative Merit of the Old Testament with regard to the Doctrine of Immortality, which were both published in 1857.124 Engelbert, a rabbinical student in Berlin, set out to debunk Christianity’s “exclusive claim to the doctrine of immortality,” but rejected—in light of the sparse scriptural evidence—the standard apologetic approach of selecting arbitrary verses to demonstrate that “every page of the Old Testament preaches immortality and resurrection.”125 Brecher, too, refrained from this approach, acknowledging in the introduction to his work that “Moses did not legislate any positive commandments pertaining to the highest rational ideas (Vernunftsideen), namely the existence of God and the immortality of the soul . . .”126 In the absence of unequivocal scriptural proof-texts, Brecher and Engelbert both appealed to the authority of history in order to “prove” that the ancient Israelites did, indeed, believe in the immortality of the soul. This also demanded a compelling explanation for why this doctrine left no explicit trace in the Five Books of Moses. In grappling with this question, Brecher and Engelbert both placed the Hebrew Bible in its ancient Near Eastern context, drawing attention to the particular challenges of the polytheistic environment. According to Engelbert, the Hebrew Bible aimed to draw attention away from the doctrine of immortality, because the Egyptians, Persians and other ancient peoples adhered to primitive, shamanistic beliefs in immortality that might be confused with the ancient Israelites’ rational, monotheistic belief. As such, “the negation of the pagan belief in immortality” was one of

123 For an extensive bibliography, see William Rounsevill Alger, A Critical History of the Doctrine of a Future Life, with a Complete Bibliography of the Subject (Philadelphia: George W. Childs, 1864), pp. 764–759. 124 G. Brecher, Die Unsterblichkeitslehre des israelitischen Volkes (Leipzig, 1857); Her- mann Engelbert, Das negative Verdienst des Alten Testament um die Unsterblichkeitslehre (Berlin, 1857). In the same year, the following works were also published: Felix Himpel, Die Unsterblichkeitslehre des Alten Testaments (Tübingen, 1857), and M. Nicholas, “De l’origine des doctrines de l’immortalité de l’ame et de la résurrection des corps chez les Juifs,” Revue de théologie et de philosophie chrétienne 14 (1857): 356–374. 125 H. Engelbert, Das negative Verdienst, p. 4. 126 G. Brecher, Die Unsterblichkeitslehre, pp. 1–2. 70 michael l. miller the Hebrew Bible’s greatest accomplishments, and thereby justified its silence on this matter.127 Like Engelbert, Brecher contended that the ancient Israelites adhered to the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, but during their “centuries-long sojourn among a polytheistic people,” their beliefs had been enveloped in paganism. Consequently, Moses’s principal task was to “lead the Israelite people back to mono- theism,” not to preach doctrines of immortality.128 Just as Brecher’s earlier book on The Transcendental tried to explain the presence of certain troublesome passages in talmudic literature, his later treatise on The Doctrine of Immortality tried to explain the absence of certain desired passages in biblical literature. In both works, Brecher conceived of Judaism in historical terms, viewing it as something that interacts with its environment, changing organically over time, but all the while retaining its essence. Already in The Transcendental, he identified the doctrine of immortality as part of this essence, denoting it as a “special characteristic of the People of Israel” (ein Eigenthum des israelitischen Volkes).129 Likewise, in The Doctrine of Immortality, he insisted that this doctrine had always been in the bosom of the ancient Israel- ites, developing subsequently by means of encounters with other ideas and cultures. In a paragraph that reads like a manifesto for “positive- historical Judaism,” Brecher detailed his understanding of Judaism’s ideational development: An exotic teaching can find general acceptance only when its germ is already present inside the people, and the idea can easily be linked to this and then brought to fruition. What distinguishes the People of Israel, however, is that the Israelites have never repudiated original and specific elements of their religion, even as they incorporated unfamiliar elements into their religious system, which has occurred in every age. In fact, they assimilated this material into [their religious system], and, as it were, created, by means of a chemical process, a new, entirely homogenous product.130 Brecher, who was quite fond of scientific metaphors, set out to trace the “genetic” evolution of the doctrine of immortality of the soul in Judaism from a “purely objective standpoint.”131 In his “historical

127 H. Engelbert, Das negative Verdienst, p. 16. 128 G. Brecher, Die Unsterblichkeitslehre, p. 2. 129 G. Brecher, Das Transcendentale, p. 64. 130 G. Brecher, Die Unsterblichkeitslehre, p. 8. 131 Ibid., p. 7. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 71 investigation of the truth,” he showed how Judaism had assimilated Zoroastrian conceptions of resurrection and Platonic conceptions of immortality, allowing a traditional Jewish belief to crystallize—in talmudic times—into an “essential dogma.”132 The talmudic period was only one stage in the “chemical process,” and Brecher went on to show how this core belief continued to evolve, as the “philosophical school” (Maimonides, Judah Halevi, Abraham ibn Ezra and Joseph Albo) accommodated it to Aristotelian thought and the “mystical school” (Namanides, Isaac Luria, and Baya ben Asher) accommodated it to Gnosticm and Kabbalah.133 For Brecher, both of these schools were legitimate expressions of the Jewish people, incontrovertible proof that Judaism’s continuous engagement with its environment actually reinforced its “essential dogmas.” Brecher’s argument was considered novel and persuasive enough for Albert Cohn, the French Jewish scholar and philanthropist, to have it immediately translated into French.134 The translation was undertaken by Isidore Cahen, whose father, Samuel Cahen, had published the French translation of the Hebrew Bible (Paris, 1831–1851) that had included Salomon Munk’s above-mentioned reflections on the immortality of the soul. By rendering Brecher’s work into “the most universal and widespread language of the civilized peoples,” Cohn hoped to uproot the erroneous views about Judaism that were still commonly held.135 Isidore Cahen assumed that readers of Brecher’s treatise would be surprised to find out that “this race of exiles and bankers . . . had produced such scholars and philosophers.”136 He hoped that its readers would finally comprehend that the sublime belief in the immortality of the soul was the true source of “the heroic obstinacy” with which the Jewish people had “braved all of the humiliations and persecutions since the Christian era.”137 It is not clear whether Brecher managed to convince any of Juda- ism’s detractors that the ancient Israelites did, in fact, believe in the immortality of the soul, but his small treatise did contribute to the religious edification of German-speaking Jewish children. Two years

132 Ibid., p. 47. 133 Ibid., p. 73. 134 G. Brecher, L’immortalité de l’âme chez les Juifs, translated by Isidore Cahen (Paris: A. Franck, 1857). 135 Ibid., p. 6. 136 Ibid., p. 18. 137 Ibid., p. 13. 72 michael l. miller after the publication of The Doctrine of Immortality, a German-Jewish catechism quoted from this work in a section on “eternal life and resurrection”; the Jewish pupils were presumably required to memorize Brecher’s words.138

Distinguished Citizen in the Age of Emancipation

Brecher’s books on circumcision, magic and immortality were part and parcel of the debate over Jewish emancipation in the middle of the nineteenth century. In their own ways, these books challenged deeply- rooted assumptions about the barbarism of circumcision, the absurdity of the Talmud and the primitiveness of Judaism, assumptions that all stood in the way of the full acceptance of Jews by the surrounding society. As Ismar Schorsch has shown, “modern scholarship on Juda- ism betrayed all the urgent concerns raised by the long-contested venture of emancipation,” and in this sense, Brecher’s works were no exception.139 In many respects, however, Brecher’s greatest contribution to the “venture of emancipation” was his sheer humanity, a quality that distinguished him in the eyes of nearly everyone who came into contact with him. Already in 1850, when corresponding with the medical faculty at the University of Erlangen, he made special mention of his “service to humanity.”140 This sentiment was echoed by the Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums, which observed in 1865 that Brecher conducted himself as a “human being and Jew” (als Mensch und Israelit) in all of his affairs.141 Moritz Steinschneider saw Brecher’s scholarship in a similar light. As he wrote to his uncle in the preface to his study of Shabbatai Donnolo, “I emblazon my small work with your name, because humanity is the ultimate goal of scholarship.”142 On January 14, 1865, Gideon Brecher turned sixty-eight, and the Prossnitz Jewish community took the opportunity to honor its most

138 Maier Elsasser, Erster Unterricht in der israelitischen Religion (Mannheim: J. Bens- heimer, 1859; 2nd ed. 1866). 139 Ismar Schorsch, “The Ethos of Modern Jewish Scholarship,” in From Text to Context: The Turn to History in Modern Judaism (Hanover: University Press of New Eng- land, 1994), p. 163. 140 Universitätsarchiv Erlangen-Nürnberg (UAE): C3/3 Nr. 1849/50–13, f. 6a–7b. 141 “Prossnitz,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums (Feb. 21, 1865): 119. 142 M. Steinschneider, Donnolo, Pharmakologische Fragmente aus dem zehnten Jahrhundert (Berlin: Julius Benzian, 1868), second unnumbered page. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 73 distinguished member and to celebrate his forty years of service in Prossnitz’s Jewish hospital. Abraham Schmiedl, rabbi of the community, lauded the medical profession as a “sacred calling,” adding that it is “all the more beautiful, sacred and praiseworthy when the doctor is, at the same time, a human being [wenn der Arzt zugleich Mensch ist] in the most noble and sensitive meaning of the word; when his heart, which enthusiastically embraces the good of humanity, is so full of the most fervent concern and deepest compassion, that he sees every suffering human being, first and foremost, as his suffering brother . . .”143 Brecher’s jubilee took place in 1865, a full two years before the emancipation of Habsburg Jewry, and the laudatory speeches reflected this climate of hope and expectation, touting him as a “shining example for the youth” and highlighting his moral qualities and his strivings on behalf of humanity. The celebration included a torch-lit procession and a serenade by the local choral society, but the real highlight was the dedication of a “charitable, humanitarian institute” in the jubilant’s honor: a sick house (Siechenhaus) in the Prossnitz Jewish community.144 To mark the occasion, Prossnitzers in Vienna contributed to the establishment of the sick house and also set up a foundation (Brecher-Stiftung) to support impoverished students from Prossnitz.145 Along with many others who could not attend the festivities in person, Moritz Stein- schneider and his wife Auguste sent their congratulations by mail.146 On the symbolic level, Brecher endowed his celebration with special significance, since it brought Jews and Christians together as “fellow brethren” (Mitbrüder). Like many Moravian towns, Prossnitz was divided into a Christian town and a Jewish town, each of which had its own elected mayor and aldermen. The Christian and Jewish popu- lations quite often came into conflict with one another, and Brecher found it worth mentioning—in a letter to Moritz and Auguste Stein- schneider—that the representatives of the Christian town had sent him a “letter of praise and thanks.” In Brecher’s view, this was “an event that should not be underestimated”; it was surely a “sign of the times,”

143 Die Jubiläums-Feier des Dr. Gideon Brecher in Prossnitz am 14. Jänner 1865 (Prossnitz, 1865): 21–22. On the Jewish community’s decision to hold a jubilee celebration, see “Prossnitz,” Die Neuzeit (March 30, 1864): 616–617. 144 Ibid., p. 23 (ein gemeinnütziges humanitäres Institut). 145 “Prossnitz,” Ben-Chananja (Feb. 1, 1865): 90–91. 146 Gideon Brecher (Prossnitz) to Moritz and Auguste Steinschneider (Berlin), Jan. 22, 1865. Moritz Steinschneider Papers, JTSA, ARC 108. Correspondence, B. Brecher mentions Moritz and Auguste’s letter. 74 michael l. miller since such behavior towards a Jew “was unprecedented, from the Mid- dle Ages until our days.”147 (In 1871, Brecher also received recognition from Emperor Franz Joseph, who awarded him the Golden Cross of Merit.)148 Brecher joined in the struggle for Jewish emancipation, first and foremost, by setting a personal example through his commitment to scholarship, medicine and the well-being of his “fellow brethren” (in the widest sense of the term). Highly prolific from the late 1830s until the late 1850s, he devoted the last decades of his life primarily to his medical practice. Nevertheless, he published a few pieces in the 1860s, including an article on teraphim (which had been composed in 1842), some observations on biblical Hebrew style, and a serialized Torah commentary in Hebrew. All of these appeared in Galician Hebrew periodicals, the first two in Otzar okhma, a Lemberg-based journal, which also published contributions by a number of Moravian rabbis.149 Brecher’s Torah commentary appeared in Ivri Anokhi (I am a Hebrew), “an obscure journal” (in his terms), published in Brody.150 “My time is devoted primarily to my career,” Brecher wrote to Stein- schneider in 1868, explaining why his literary output had diminished over the years.151 In any case, by this point in his life, he could take pride in the fact that his son, Adolf (Aharon) Brecher (1831–1894), had followed in his scholarly footsteps, and that his nephew, Moritz Steinschneider, had long ago surpassed him. Adolf, who had studied medicine in Prague, settled down in Olmütz (near Prossnitz) in 1859, where he worked as a physician for the railways and served as vice- president of the newly-established Jewish community (and director of the local German Association). Perhaps inspired by his father, who, in

147 Ibid. 148 Brecher was awarded the Goldenes Verdienstkreuz on the ﬁrst day of Passover in April 1871. See Ungarisch-Jüdische Wochenschrift (April 27, 1871): 141. 149 G. Brecher, “Bi ur inyan ha-teraﬁm,” Otzar okhma 2 (1861): 69–73; G. Brecher, “Heerah al signon leshon ha-torah,” Otzar okhma 3 (1865): 78–80. Other Moravian authors included Rabbis Leopold Löw (now in Szeged, Hungary), Hayyim Josef Pol- lak (Trebitsch), David Oppenheim (Gross-Meseritsch), Moritz Mordechai Duschak (Gaya), Hermann Duschak (Austerlitz), and Abraham Schmiedl (Prossnitz). 150 G. Brecher, “Bi ur pesuqe TaNaKh,” Ivri Anokhi (Oct. 11, 1867): 6–8; (Nov. 1, 1867): 15–16; (Nov. 15, 1867): 30–31, 39–40; (Nov. 29, 1867): 71–72; (Dec. 27, 1867): 80. In a letter to Steinschneider, Brecher expresses regret that he published his Hebrew commentary in this “obscure journal” rather than in Jeschurun, a German- Hebrew journal published in Bamberg, Germany, by Joseph Kobak. 151 Gideon Brecher (Prossnitz) to Moritz and Auguste Steinschneider (Berlin), Jan. 24, 1868. Moritz Steinschneider Papers, JTSA, ARC 108. Correspondence, B. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 75

1845, had published a Judeo-German translation of Psalm 141, Adolf published a German translation of the Book of Psalms in 1864, which he dedicated to his father (and to a childhood friend, Adolf Beer) “with love and devotion.”152 (Adolf also translated Hungarian and Czech poems into German and composed many humorous German poems of his own.)153 After Gideon’s death, Adolf completed and published an unﬁnished Hebrew manuscript that his father had left behind: a concordance of all the proper names in the Hebrew Bible, entitled Eleh ha-ketuvim ba-shemot (Frankfurt, 1877).154 Moritz Steinschneider was Gideon Brecher’s true scholarly heir. Just as Ber Schiff had nurtured his nephew’s interest in Hebrew language and literature, Gideon Brecher constantly encouraged (and promoted) his own nephew’s prodigious scholarly talents. Already in 1828, when Moritz was a mere eleven-year-old, Brecher boasted to his own Uncle Ber about his nephew’s original interpretation of a biblical verse.155 In 1840, when Steinschneider was in his mid-20s, Brecher could see that his nephew was destined for greatness. As he wrote in 1842, “everyone is amazed at the level of his knowledge . . . He gave a sermon (derash) in the synagogue, and the entire town was impressed by the beauty of his language (melitsot).”156 Brecher supported his nephew’s projects, such as the planned Real-Encyclopädie des Judenthums, and he occasionally put his own private manuscripts at Moritz’s disposal.157 Brecher

152 Adolf Brecher, Die Psalmen, metrisch übersetzt (Vienna, 1864). The copy in the Jew- ish National and University Library ( Jerusalem) is inscribed by Moritz Steinschneider to Sal. Kaufmann (April 1900). 153 For Adolf Brecher’s obituary (and brief biography), see “Olmütz,” Dr. Bloch’s Oesterreichische Wochenschrift 4, no. 16 (1894): 322. 154 G. Brecher, Eleh ha-ketuvim ba-shemot; mareh maqom (qonqordantzya al kol shem-etsem perati ha-nizkar ba-Tanakh, ve-nishlemah melakhto a. y. beno Aharon (Frankfurt a.M. 1876). For a review of this work, see Jahrbücher für jüdische Geschichte und Litteratur 3 (1877): 192–193. This journal, published in Frankfurt am Main, was edited by Nehemias Brüll (1843–1891), grandson of Rabbi Nehemias Trebitsch; Moritz Steinschneider studied with Trebitsch during his years at the Nikolsburg yeshiva. 155 G. Brecher to Ber Schiff, Jan. 28, 1828. Gideon Brecher Correspondence, JTSA, ARC 22, letter 7. 156 G. Brecher, undated letter, Gideon Brecher Correspondence, JTSA, ARC 22, letter 16. An article in Der Orient ( Jan. 24, 1843): 30–31, refers to a sermon given in Prossnitz by Moritz Steinschneider, so I assume this letter can be dated to the end of 1842. 157 See, e.g., M. Steinschneider, “Ueber talmudische Realindices, Onomastika u. dergl. nebst Beschreibung einer bisher unbekannten Handschr. im Besitze des Hrn G. Brecher in Prossnitz,” Serapeum. Zeitschrift für Bibliothekwissenschaft, Handschriftenkunde und ältere Litteratur 6, no. 19 (Oct. 15, 1845): 289–301. 76 michael l. miller also gave him career advice, expressing relief in 1843 that his nephew did not take a rabbinical post in Tarnopol, Galicia. “That you will not be going to Tarnopol does not bother me at all,” he wrote his nephew. “My antipathy towards the Poles in general makes it impossible for me to consider it pleasant or worthy for you to take a [rabbinical] post among Polish Jews, who, with all of their relative education, are saturated with the smell of onions, superstition and Hassidism.”158 His anti-Polish diatribe was somewhat gratuitous, since the main point of his letter was that Steinschneider should pursue a career in scholarship, not the rabbinate. “Were Tarnopol to be seen merely as the ﬁrst step on your ladder of destiny (die erste Stufe deiner Schicksalsleiter),” he added, then it would be a nice point of entry (prozdor). “But there is one thing that I cannot contain myself from saying,” he continued, “namely that I believe you have already gathered nearly enough scholarship (Wissenschaft) to work as a scholar, and it is high time that you take strides towards applying [your knowledge].” Indeed, by the time Brecher penned these words, his nephew had published a German translation of the sayings of Rabbi Abraham Belais (1838), co-published (with Franz Delitzsch) the Hebrew text of a Karaite theological work (1841), and been invited to contribute entries on Arabic literature and religion to the Universal-Lexikon der Gegenwart und Vergangenheit.159 A quarter century later, when Steinschneider had already established his reputation as the “father of Hebrew bibliography,” Brecher offered him additional career advice. Following the emancipation of Habsburg Jewry in 1867, the Ministry of Religion and Education in Vienna considered establishing a rabbinical seminary in the western lands of the Habsburg Empire (Cisleithania), and the Moravian governor (Statthalter) asked Brecher to prepare a report on this proposed institution. Soon thereafter, Brecher proclaimed to his nephew: “I immediately thought of you.”160 Nevertheless, Stein- schneider remained in Berlin (where he had been editing Hebräische Bibliographie since 1858 and teaching at the Veitel-Heine-Ephraim’sche

158 Letter from G. Brecher to Steinschneider, Nov. 7, 1843. Moritz Steinschneider Collection, Library of the JTSA, ARC 108, Box 13, letter 5. Brecher added his remarks to a letter by H. Fassel to Steinschneider. 159 A. Marx, Essays in Jewish Bibliography, pp. 115–117. 160 G. Brecher (Prossnitz) to Moritz and Auguste Steinschneider (Berlin), Jan. 24, 1868. Moritz Steinschneider Papers, JTSA, ARC 108. Correspondence, B. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 77

Lehranstalt since 1859); he then went on to teach at the girls’ school of the Jewish community and work as an assistant at the Royal Library in Berlin. (In subsequent decades, Steinschneider rejected offers to teach at the Hochschule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums in Berlin as well as the Rabbinical Seminary in Budapest, since he firmly believed that the university, not the theological seminary, was the proper place for critical Jewish studies.)161 Unlike his nephew, Gideon Brecher had the luxury of engaging in critical Jewish studies “alongside [his] practical profession.” Medicine was his profession and the Jewish hospital his place of work, and even though he made important scholarly contributions, he never aspired to an academic career. Steinschneider, in contrast, viewed the university as his rightful place, and he nurtured the hope that the German universities would one day follow the English example by creating a place for critical and objective Jewish learning in their hallowed halls.162 He rejected the rabbinate and the rabbinical seminary as unsuitable for truly objective scholarly inquiry, and settled instead for positions that were clearly below his level of accomplishment. Although he lamented that Jewish scholarship “has no basis in reality, no institution, no encouragement,” when these institutions finally came into being, Steinschneider deemed them unsatisfactory.163 His uncle, on the other hand, supported the creation of a rabbinical seminary, since Brecher was always interested in Judaism more as a system of beliefs and practices than as an object of study. Gideon Brecher passed away on May 12, 1873, at the age of 76, and his funeral took place two days later. Moritz Steinschneider wrote a brief obituary in Hebräische Bibliographie, describing his recently deceased uncle as “one of the few, great individuals who has no enemies. Simple, warm, idealistic, human to the extreme, his personality infused everyone with a genial adoration.” “His writings,” he continued, “reflected his personality: a rare combination of astute historical perception with an ideal, almost spiritualistic belief that relieved him of stiff forms and harmoniously rounded out the life of the author,

161 On his view of rabbinical seminaries, see Steinschneider, “Die Zukunft der jüdischen Wissenschaft,” HB 9 (1869): 76–78, and I. Schorsch, “Jewish Studies from 1818 to 1919,” in From Text to Context, pp. 352–353. 162 A. Marx, Essays in Jewish Bibliography, pp. 144–145. 163 Ibid., p. 131. 78 michael l. miller which was as active as it was calm.”164 The adjectives he chose to characterize his uncle—“warm,” “idealistic,” “spiritualistic”—would certainly never have been used to describe the tormented, irascible and ironic “father of Hebrew bibliography” himself. Indeed, Stein- schneider shared much of his Uncle Gideon’s erudition and diligence, but little of his calm temperament and congenial disposition. A conciliatory person by nature, Brecher sought to reconcile conflicting positions in his scholarship, as well. In his 1838 article on Jew- ish schooling, Brecher insisted that any educational reforms had to strike a happy balance between rationalism and emotionalism. He was drawn to Judah Halevi’s Kuzari, in part, because it attempted to harmonize western philosophy and rabbinic Judaism, two traditions that were often considered at odds with one another. Unlike Luzzatto, he even viewed Kabbalah as a legitimate and ancient Jewish tradition, part of a “mystical school” that evolved together with Judaism’s more rational “philosophical school.” Indeed, much of Brecher’s scholarly (and medical) career was devoted to understanding the irrational, the transcendental, the magical and the liminal elements of human existence. In this respect, his medical curiosity about homeopathy’s “vital force” easily dovetailed with his poetic, exegetical and theological inquiries into the nature of human soul. Prima facie, Brecher’s treatise on the immortality of the soul tackled an enduring ontological question, but on a deeper level, it proposed a bold redefinition of Judaism as a dynamic religious system, capable of incorporating unfamiliar elements, if their “germ is already present inside the people.” Indeed, for Brecher, Judaism is rooted in the historical experiences of the People of Israel, whose ongoing engagement with the surrounding environment allows the religious system to evolve in accordance with its inner essence. In other words, the (re)conciliatory approach that typified his writings was more than just a reflection of his personality. It was a reflection of Judaism, as he conceived it. As he wrote in The Transcendental, the People of Israel had been assimilating foreign ideas into Judaism throughout history, and ended up creating a “new, entirely homogenous product” by means of a “chemical process,” one that helped Judaism reconcile opposing currents, enabling it to retain its vitality and relevance in modern times.

164 M. Steinschneider, HB 13 (1873): 139. “YOUR LOVING UNCLE ” 79

On May 18, 1873, the Prossnitzer Wochenblatt, a liberal German weekly, published a lengthy obituary, which was subsequently reprinted by many Jewish newspapers, such as the Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums.165 The obituary drew heavily on a biographical sketch that Moritz Duschak had written on the occasion of Brecher’s sixty-eighth birthday.166 In describing the funeral, the obituary singled out the highly diverse group of individuals and organizations that paid their last respects to Prossnitz’s “best and most noble citizen.” These included the mayor of the Jewish town, the mayor of the Christian town, the town priest, the prior of the Brothers of Mercy, doctors and medics, as well as music societies, gymnastics clubs, the local fire brigade and various Jewish associations. The large, diverse turnout was a testament to Brecher’s life, which—in the words of the Prossnitzer Wochenblatt— had been “devoted to the well-being of our fellow citizens, irrespective of standing and confession.” The Prossnitzer Wochenblatt also suggested a fitting epitaph—in Ger- man—for Brecher’s tombstone: “He lived and worked for this world and the next. He made himself immortal.” Of course, the epitaph played on the title of Brecher’s last major work, but, by treating immortality on the symbolic—rather than spiritual—level, it paid short shrift to the “essential dogma” that occupied Brecher’s thoughts for much of his life. Furthermore, a German epitaph was hardly suitable for a scholar who, in the spirit of the Moravian Haskalah, had devoted himself to Hebrew language and literature, and even wrote his Kuzari commentary in an “easily comprehensible, fluent Hebrew.” Fortunately, Brecher had had the foresight to compose his own epitaph, prior to his death. Written as a rhymed Hebrew acrostic, it evokes the Hebrew poetry of Solomon ibn Gabirol, the medieval Spanish poet, grammarian and Neoplatonist philosopher.167 Here, Brecher hearkened back to the Golden Age of Spanish Jewry, an idealized, yet eminently ‘usable’ past for anyone seeking a model for harmonious coexistence and cultural cross-fertilization between Jews and their neighbors. Ibn Gabirol is best known for reconciling

165 “Prossnitz,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums ( June 17, 1873): 406–408. Ignatz Rottberger, publisher of the Prossnitzer Wochenblatt, was married to one of Gideon Brecher’s nieces. 166 M. Duschak, “Gideon Brecher” (1865): 3–19. [see Note 6 above] 167 I would like to thank my colleague, Hano Ben-Yami, for pointing out the similarities between Brecher’s epitaph and the poems of Ibn Gabirol. 80 michael l. miller

Neoplatonism with rabbinic tradition, and Brecher’s epitaph drew on the Neoplatonist conception of the soul as being temporarily trapped in the human body; his Hebrew terminology could have been taken directly from Ibn Gabirol’s poetry: I was a stranger here in a strange land Distinguished in creations, and trapped in a body From the beginning, my soul has yearned for eternal light On the day that God called, [my soul] left its earthly grave And joy returned to life With the strength of youth In the father’s house.168 The strange land does not refer to Moravia, but rather to the human body that provides a temporary domicile (or earthly grave) for the immortal human soul. Nevertheless, Gideon Brecher was an unmis- takable product of his Moravian environment, where traditional rabbinic culture was rooted and secure enough to absorb new ideas and new approaches, giving the Moravian Haskalah its distinctly moderate character. Moravian Jews took great pride in Brecher, and in other native sons—such as Leopold Löw, Adolf Jellinek, and Moritz Steinschneider—who had risen to prominence in the Jewish ﬁrma- ment of Central Europe. As a Prossnitz correspondent to the Galician Hebrew periodical Ivri Anokhi observed in 1873, Brecher’s death had “removed the crown from our head, the glory of this town and all of its environs.”169

168 Brecher’s tombstone no longer exists, but his epitaph was transcribed at the beginning of the twentieth century when the old Jewish cemetery was destroyed. For the transcription, see Jewish Museum in Prague, Nr. 51036, “Grabsteine Abschriften des alten jüdischen Friedhof in Prossnitz,” No. 1/1 r. 169 Ivri Anokhi (Brody) (May 23, 1873): 243. 3. LEOPOLD ZUNZ AND MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER: WISSENSCHAFT DES JUDENTUMS AS A STRUGGLE AGAINST GHETTOIZATION IN SCIENCE

Céline Trautmann-Waller

In 1857 Moritz Steinschneider (1816–1907) established a bibliography of the writings of Leopold Zunz (1794–1886), “founder of the science of Judaism,” for the latter’s sixty-third birthday.1 In his homage he paid tribute to Zunz’ strivings on behalf of true science. This was precisely one of the things most shared by the two men, besides a certain sarcastic and biting humor. The founder of the Wissenschaft des Judentums and the renowned Jewish bibliographer both repeatedly pointed out that a critical science could rely only on a thorough study of the sources, for without it any revision of the traditionally negative image of Juda- ism was impossible—hence their common passion for manuscripts and books, also in their very materiality, and their endeavor to preserve, catalogue, and study historically the holdings of European libraries and/or private collections related to Jewish literature, religion and history. The (new) insights gained through this analysis of historical books and manuscripts included a deeper awareness about the Diaspora or historical dispersion of the Jewish people, seen not only as a despairing exile and sterile remoteness from the homeland, but also as a kind of journey through different cultures wherever Jews gathered and learned things and, in exchange, exerted crucial influence as transmitters of knowledge and as translators. This new perspective also considerably modified conceptions of medieval culture in general and of the more specific relationships between Arabic, Greek and Jewish culture and science at that time. Zunz’ initiatives were best developed after him by Steinschneider, who specialized in the history of translations and of cultural contacts in Judaism.

1 Moritz Steinschneider, Die Schriften des Dr. L. Zunz, des Begründers der jüdischen Wissen- schaft, zu seinem 63. Geburtstage (10. August 1857) zusammengestellt (Berlin: Friedlaender’sche Buchdruckerei, 1857). 82 céline trautmann-waller

Their common scientific ideal meant not only rigor in the processing of data and commitment to the historico-critical method, but also contempt for all kinds of efforts to put the Wissenschaft movement in the service of confessional or national interests. Zunz had tried in vain to secure the integration of the science of Judaism, as he conceived it, into the European university system. As no institution existed to host the kind of scientific inquiry into Jewish history and literature that Zunz and Steinschneider envisioned, both had to endure many privations and setbacks. In 1872, when the “Hochschule für die Wis- senschaft des Judentums” opened in Berlin, many cried out “victory!,” but Zunz and Steinschneider both refused to participate in the inaugu- ration, demonstratively expressing their conviction that this institution did not correspond to their ideal of Jewish Studies; nevertheless, others did see its founding as the realization of the integration of Judaism in German academia. We will examine how the Zunz-Steinschneider friendship and collaboration started and developed, so that Steinschneider, following a pattern, became a continuator of Zunz’ oeuvre. This will be shown especially in two aspects: their relation to manuscripts, books and collections, and their vision of Jewish culture. The last part will deal with the similar positions they held in the field of Berlin Jewish Studies of their time(s).

Steinschneider’s Arrival in Berlin: The Young Generation and the Old Master

Born in Prossnitz (now Prostîjov) in Moravia, Steinschneider studied in Prague from 1833 to 1836 when Zunz also happened to be living there, having been commissioned to establish the town’s new reformed synagogue, as we will see later on. But the depressed representative of the science of Judaism, feeling acutely like an exile in Prague, did not meet the young pupil then pursuing his Talmudic studies there and preparing to qualify as a Hebrew teacher at the Hebräische Lehranstalt. In 1836 Steinschneider left Prague for Vienna, where he studied Semitic languages under Professor Kaerle at the university’s Catho- lic Theological Faculty. He befriended Leopold Dukes (1810–1891), a young Jewish Orientalist born in Pressburg (now Bratislava), who in 1833 had begun to translate Rashi’s Commentary on the Pentateuch struggle against ghettoization in science 83 into German (in Hebrew characters).2 Dukes, who was to publish Ehrensäulen und Denksteine zu einem künftigen Pantheon Hebräischer Dichter und Dichtungen (1837) and who travelled throughout Europe to visit the principal Hebrew-manuscript collections, gave Steinschneider one of the first decisive impulses to pursue his studies of medieval literature, Hebrew manuscripts and Jewish bibliography. In Prague Stein- schneider was also associated with Abraham Benisch (1811–1878), later editor of the Jewish Chronicle in London, 1854–69 and 1875–78, who was then reflecting on how to restore Jewish sovereignty in the Holy Land. After leaving Vienna in 1839, Steinschneider stayed half a year in Leipzig and established contacts there with Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer, who had studied Arabic in Paris under Silvestre de Sacy and, after returning to Germany, had transformed Leipzig into an important center of Oriental Studies,3 and with Franz Delitzsch (1813–1890), a young Protestant theologian and Hebraist. In Leipzig, Steinschneider began to translate the Quran into Hebrew and also worked with Delitzsch on an edition of Aaron ben Elijah’s ‘Etz Æayyim (Tree of Life) (Leipzig, 1841), a 14th-century work whose Karaite author had tried to create a Karaite counterpart to the Aristotelian outlook developed by Maimonides in his Guide for the Perplexed. After Leipzig Steinschneider finally made it to Berlin. Here he became friendly with Moritz Abraham Levy (1817–1872), a future specialist in Semitic palaeography, and with the two brothers David and Selig Cassel.4 Levy and David Cassel (1818–1893) both received a rabbinical diploma but chose not to accept any rabbinical posts, preferring to teach and do research. In the Foreword to his translation and bilingual edition of the Kuzari by the well-known Sephardic rabbi, philosopher and poet Judah Ha-Levi (1075–1141), David Cassel recalled the somewhat naïve enthusiasm with which he and his friends

2 Rashi zum Pentateuch, Pentateuch-Kommentar, deutsch von Leopold Dukes, mit Erläuterungen (Prague: Landau, 1833–38). 3 See Holger Preißler, “Les contacts entre orientalistes français et allemands dans les années 1820 et 1830, d’après la correspondance de Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer (1801–1888),” in Pascale Rabault-Feuerhahn & Céline Trautmann-Waller (eds.), Itinéraires orientalistes entre France et Allemagne, Revue germanique internationale 7 (2008): 93–108. 4 Selig Cassel (1821–1892) changed his name to Paulus Stephanus Cassel after converting to Protestantism in 1855. 84 céline trautmann-waller

(among whom Heiman Jolowicz [1816–1875] in particular was cited as collaborator) had begun to work on this classic, feeling that they were opening up a new direction in scientific research.5 Thirteen years later, in 1853, thinking that this work rather overstretched his capacities, he printed only its beginning and simply hoped “to be able to compare, through the good offices of my erudite friend, Dr. M. Steinschneider, the difficult parts with the Arabic original that is in Oxford.”6 In 1843– 44 David Cassel developed, also with Steinschneider’s help, the plan of an Encyclopaedia of Judaism,7 but the project was never completed. At the same time, Steinschneider and his friends all wanted to become acquainted with Zunz, who was their role model, but whom they also somewhat feared.8 Zunz and Steinschneider first met around 1840, when Steinschneider was about twenty-three and Zunz about forty-five. Eight years earlier (1832) Zunz had published his first extensive book, Gottesdienstliche Vorträge,9 a study of Jewish homiletics from the Book of Chronicles up to the modern sermon, and had announced in a letter to his former teacher and friend Samuel Meyer Ehrenberg (1773–1853) in 1837 that he was then preparing to work on synagogal poetry. A real friendship soon arose between Zunz and Steinschneider, which is quite astonishing as Zunz had few close friends among the other exponents of the science of Judaism.

5 Das Buch Kusari des Jehuda ha-Levi, nach dem hebräischen Texte des Jehuda Ibn Tibbon, herausgegeben, übersetzt und mit einem fortlaufenden deutschen Commen- tar, so wie mit einer allgemeinen Einleitung versehen von Heiman Jolowicz und David Cassel (Leipzig: H. Francke, 1841), Vorwort (Berlin, December 1840), pp. III–VI. 6 “durch Vermittelung meines gelehrten Freundes, des Herrn Dr. M. Stein- schneider, eine Vergleichung der schwierigen Parthien mit dem in Oxford beﬁndli- chen arabischen Original anstellen zu können.” Das Buch Kusari des Jehuda ha-Levi, nach dem hebräischen Texte des Jehuda Ibn Tibbon, herausgegeben, übersetzt und mit einem Commentar, so wie mit einer Einleitung versehen von David Cassel (Leipzig: U.M. Colditz, 1853), Vorrede, p. VI. Later, in 1869, he published the complete translation of Cusari: Das Buch Kusari des Jehuda ha-Levi, nach dem hebräischen Texte des Jehuda Ibn Tibbon, herausgegeben, übersetzt mit einem Commentar von David Cas- sel (Leipzig: F. Voigt, 1869). 7 Plan der Real-Encyclopädie des Judenthums. Zunächst für die Mitarbeiter (Krotoschin: B.L. Monasch & Sohn, 1844). See Alexander Marx, “Zunz’ letters to Steinschneider,” Pro- ceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 5 (1934): 95–112; edition used here: idem, “Zunz and Steinschneider,” in Studies in Jewish History and Booklore (New York: JTSA, 1944), pp. 346–363, here p. 354. 8 Marx, p. 348. 9 L. Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden, historisch entwickelt. Ein Beitrag zur Alter- tumskunde und biblischen Kritik, zur Literatur- und Religionsgeschichte (Berlin: Asher, 1832). struggle against ghettoization in science 85

Like Isaak Markus Jost (1793–1860), one of the first to publish a comprehensive History of the Jews,10 Zunz had been a pupil of Samuel Meyer Ehrenberg’s in the Freischule of Wolfenbüttel.11 He recalled the latter’s arrival in this school as the beginning of a new life, the maskil soon assuming for the young orphan the role of a second father as well as that of a master. The mixture of traditional Jewish and secular education that Zunz experienced in the school, reorganized by Ehrenberg to follow Haskalah ideals and be the model for new modernized Jewish schools, enabled him to enter Gymnasium and prepare for university. He began to study in Berlin in 1815 and soon published a text, Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur,12 considered to be one of the first documents of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. In the wake of the “Hep-Hep” riots of 1819 he decided together with other young Jewish students and autodidacts to found the “Verein für Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden,” which started its activities in Berlin in 1821. They published a journal,13 organized meetings, tried to make contacts with internationally recognized specialists in Oriental Studies,14 reflected about the establishment of a Jewish homeland in the United States, organized courses for young Jews who had arrived from Eastern Europe wanting to enter university, but without the necessary background. All of them were eager to combat the negative prejudices attached to Judaism, to have it acknowledged as part of the cultural heritage of humanity and to regenerate it, which meant, as some of the articles published in the Zeitschrift made very clear, to free it from dogmatism and “rabbinism”15 and to develop its relations with secular culture. Many of them had heard Hegel’s lectures at the University of Berlin, notably Eduard Gans (1798–1839)16 and Moses Moser (1796–1838),

10 I.M. Jost, Geschichte der Israeliten seit der Zeit der Makkabäer bis auf unsere Tage, 9 vols. (Berlin: Schlesinger, 1820–1829). 11 See C. Trautmann-Waller, Philologie allemande et tradition juive. Le parcours intellectuel de Leopold Zunz (Paris: Cerf, 1998). 12 L. Zunz, Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur nebst Nachrichten über ein altes bis jetzt ungedrucktes hebräisches Werk (Berlin: Maurer, 1818). 13 Zeitschrift für die Wissenschaft des Judentums, herausgegeben von dem Verein für Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden, Redakteur: L. Zunz (Berlin, 1822–23). 14 Dominique Bourel, “La Wissenschaft des Judentums en France,” Revue de Synthèse CIX, 2 (1988): 265–286. 15 See Ludwig Geiger, “Geist der Rabbiner, Ein geplantes Werk von Leopold Zunz,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 35 (1916): 437–438. 16 See H.G. Reissner, Eduard Gans. Ein Leben im Vormärz (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1965); also: Norbert Waszek, Eduard Gans (1797–1839): Hegelianer-Jude-Europäer (Frank- furt a.M.: Peter Lang, 1991). 86 céline trautmann-waller and dreamt of a Europe to come where Jews would be free citizens with equal rights and where their religion would be recognized like any of the Christian denominations. Zunz was not so inﬂuenced by Hegel’s philosophy. Less speculative, he had a more direct and emotional relationship to the Jewish sources and was more attracted by Herder’s philosophy of history and especially to his theory of love and “Ein- fühlung” [empathy] as the basis of philological activity. He also found great inspiration in Philipp August Boeckh’s lectures on the sciences of antiquity (Altertumswissenschaften), which developed the program of a comprehensive study of antiquity encompassing theory and practice. Despite its link to the Grecophilia of the German philologist(s), this model could easily be applied to other cultures and Zunz tried later on to develop after it an “encyclopedia” of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. He failed to achieve it or rather, one should say, realized it only frag- mentarily: his Gottesdienstliche Vorträge, Zur Geschichte und Literatur (1845) and his works on liturgical poetry, Die Synagogale Poesie des Mittelalters (1855) and Literaturgeschichte der synagogalen Poesie (1865) are all parts of it. Characteristic of these writings is the will to consider all testimonies of the Jewish past as part of a Culturgeschichte encompassing material culture as well as literature, religion, philosophy and science. Let us return to Zunz’ Gottesdienstliche Vorträge. The book was both an indirect response to the political attitude to Jewish Reform shown by the Prussian government, which banned, in the 1820s, the delivery of sermons in German in the new synagogues or temples (as, for example, Beer’s Temple in Berlin), and a continuation of the great project of rehabilitating Jewish culture that had been initiated with Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur in 1818. Zunz hoped that it would be a work “which would strike a mortal blow against the routine platitudes about Jew- ish literature.”17 In a letter to Zunz, Joseph Derenbourg (1811–1895) recalled the book’s effect on his generation: “For us elders the memory of 1832 still remains vivid, when we, my unforgettable Geiger and I, devoured your Gottesdienstliche Vorträge, feasting on the rich content of this work.”18 In his Preface to the second edition, Steinschneider tried to sum up the innovative impulse behind the text:

17 “das dem Schlendrian über jüdische Literatur den Todesstoss versetzen wird.” Zunz as quoted by Ismar Elbogen, “Leopold Zunz zum Gedächtnis,” in Fünfzigster Bericht der Lehranstalt für die Wissenschaft des Judentums (Berlin, 1936), pp. 14–32, here p. 24. 18 “Für uns Alte bleibt immer noch das Jahr 1832 in lebhafter Erinnerung, wie wir, struggle against ghettoization in science 87

Nobody before Zunz had had the idea of a critical history of the latter [the sermons], the beginnings of which stand for the literary history of the Jewish people in general. “Midrash” had become a vague representation in which activity, author and book were blurred. The History of the Sermons also describes, without the title revealing it (. . .), in its major features, the darkest period of prayer, the transition from Midrash to Piyyut.19 Even if the Gottesdienstliche Vorträge had been in its own way a defense of reform in Judaism, by the 1840s Zunz was distancing himself more and more from this movement. In 1843 and 1844 he published two articles that defended Jewish rites like circumcision and teﬁllin against reform,20 and in 1844 he condemned the ﬁrst Reform Rabbinical Conference, which met in Brunswick (Braunschweig), as a “parade of rabbis.”21 We do not know how Steinschneider reacted to this new orientation, but we do know that before long Zunz was counseling the younger man in his research, advising him on translations, recommending him to his friends or to Johann Gottfried Gruber for the Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste,22 in short, becoming the “fatherly friend”23 Steinschneider never failed to recall in his works. Nevertheless, as both spent most of their lives in Berlin, the correspondence is rather scarce. Only during Steinschneider’s few years in Prague did the two friends exchange a series of letters.

mein unvergesslicher Geiger und ich, Ihre ‘Gottesdienstlichen Vorträge’ verschlangen und uns an dem reichen Inhalte dieses Werkes labten.” Letter from Derenbourg to Zunz, 21 Jan. 1879, in Zunz-Archiv 4 792 G11 ( JNUL); quoted in: Trautmann-Waller, Philologie allemande, pp. 314–15. “Geiger” refers to Abraham Geiger (1810–1874). 19 “Eine kritische Geschichte der ersteren [Lehrvorträge], die in ihren Anfängen zugleich die Literaturgeschichte der Juden überhaupt vertritt, hatte vor Zunz niemand geahnt; der ‘Midrasch’ war eine verschwommene Vorstellung von Thätigkeit, Autor und Buch geworden. In der Geschichte der Vorträge ist, ohne dass die Überschrift es verrät (. . .), auch die dunkelste Periode des Gebetes, der Übergang des Midrasch in den Pijjut, den Hauptzügen nach gezeichnet.” M. Steinschneider, Foreword to the 2nd ed. of L. Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden, historisch entwickelt, 2nd ed. prepared by N. Brüll (Frankfurt a.M., 1892), p. XVII. 20 See Ludwig Geiger, “Eine Denkschrift von Zunz,” in Liberales Judentum 1 (1909): 349; and “Zunz’ Gutachten über die Beschneidung (1844),” in Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 38 (1916): 449–452. 21 “Rabbiner-Parade,” letter from Zunz to Philipp Ehrenberg (3 May 1844), in Nahum Norbert Glatzer, Leopold Zunz. Jude, Deutscher, Europäer. Ein jüdisches Gelehrten- schicksal des 19. Jahrhunderts in Briefen an Freunde (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1964), p. 229. 22 See M. Steinschneider, HÜ, Vorrede (Preface), p. IX. 23 “väterlicher Freund,” M. Steinschneider, Arab. Lit., Einleitung, p. XLVII. 88 céline trautmann-waller

From Steinschneider’s Years in Prague (1842–45) to Zunz’ Death

In 1836 Zunz, who was then in a desperate ﬁnancial situation, agreed to work for the “Verein zur Verbesserung des jüdischen Kultus” (Soci- ety for Improving the Mode of Jewish Worship) in Prague, an association that, thanks to a private donation, had been founded in 1832 and given permission in 1835 to reorganize the oldest synagogue of Prague. There, Zunz was supposed to institute a new service and to give regular sermons.24 This episode of his biography is little known, probably because it was entirely unsuccessful and because Zunz left Prague before his contract expired. His only comment later was: “I never saw it as my job to be the—direct—educator of the Jews, even less of those of Prague.”25 No wonder, then, that Zunz discouraged his young friend from settling in the Bohemian capital. But Zunz and his wife nevertheless often returned to Prague, notably during the summer and especially after 1846, when they found in Julie Fischel from Prague a wife for Ehrenberg’s son Philipp. When Steinschneider was living away from Berlin, he and Zunz corresponded quite regularly. Relations also grew closer because Julie Fischel in Prague knew Auguste Auerbach, to whom Steinschneider became engaged during his stay there.26 In Prague, Steinschneider worked as a private tutor, while applying unsuccessfully for a number of positions, even for that of censor of Jewish books, before ﬁnally landing a teaching post at the Lehr-und Erziehungsanstalt für israelitische Mädchen. At least he found a new friend in Michael Sachs (1808–1864), Zunz’ successor at the reformed synagogue, who was much happier with his position there than Zunz had been. In Prague, Sachs gained a solid reputation as a preacher, developing as well a fruitful scholarly collaboration with Salomon Juda Leib Rapoport

24 See Ludwig Geiger, “Zunz’ Synagogenordnung für Prag (1836),” Allgemeine Zei- tung des Judentums 41 (1916): 485–487. 25 “Ich habe keineswegs meinen Beruf darein gesetzt, der—unmittelbare—Erzieher der Juden, gar der Prager zu werden.” Letter from L. Zunz to Dr. Ascherson (26 Nov. 1835), quoted in Sigmund Maybaum, “Aus dem Leben Leopold Zunz,” in Zwölfter Bericht der Lehranstalt für die Wissenschaft des Judentums (Berlin, 1894), p. 55. 26 Adelheid Zunz’ letters to her very close friend Julie Fischel contain some comments on Auguste Auerbach and reports of visits she paid to Steinschneider’s wife from just before their marriage to the birth of their ﬁrst son and on the 20th birthday of their daughter. See also M. Steinschneider, Briefwechsel mit seiner Verlobten Auguste Auerbach, 1845–1849. Ein Beitrag zur jüdischen Wissenschaft und Emanzipation, eds. Renate Heuer and Marie-Luise Steinschneider (Frankfurt a.M.: Campus, 1995). Marie-Luise Steinschneider is Steinschneider’s great-granddaughter. struggle against ghettoization in science 89

(1790–1867), who had left Tarnopol and become a rabbi in Prague in 1840.27 Rapoport, born in Lemberg (Lvov), had formed links with Galician maskilim in his hometown. It is said that he received the first impulses for his research in the science of Judaism from reading Pierre Bayle’s Dictionnaire historique et critique.28 Having worked on Saadia Gaon, Rapoport had started a series of biographical studies on medieval Jew- ish sages. For this and for all that he had learnt from him during their already three-year-old correspondence, Zunz thanked him very warmly in his Gottesdienstliche Vorträge, praising his “critical depth, incisiveness and brilliant erudition” as well as his “pious noble sense.”29 Steinschneider also got to know Rapoport in Prague and for a while even thought of going to Tarnopol in Eastern Galicia, after meeting Samuel Goldenberg (1807–1846), the founder-editor of Kerem Æemed (a Hebrew periodical for the study of Judaism in Galicia and Italy). The latter suggested that he apply for the vacant position as principal teacher in the school founded some thirty years earlier in Tarnopol by the Haskalah educator Joseph Perl (1773–1839); preaching in the nearby modern synagogue, likewise founded by Perl, would also have been part of the job.30 Zunz commented on these plans, alluding to a supposed sympathy of Steinschneider’s for the radical Frankfurter Verein der Reformfreunde: “In your parish at Tarnopol you will not find many adherents of Stern’s and Creizenach’s religion, but also few lovers of Wissenschaft.”31 As for Zunz’ wife, Adelheid, she could only see in Tarnopol, as a letter to Steinschneider shows, “the end of the world where all acquaintanceship will be lacking, and I shall thank God if the memory of former times does not dry up in you. What a Schlemiehlerei it is with us Jews that instead of fleeing we work in the yoke in order to eat potatoes in our old age!”32

27 F.D. Lucas & H. Frank, Michael Sachs. Der konservative Mittelweg (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992); and, more recently, Margrit Schad, Rabbiner Michael Sachs: Judentum als höhere Lebensanschauung (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 2007). 28 See David Kaufmann, “Zu S.J.L. Rapoport’s hundertstem Geburtstag. Eine Festbetrachtung,” in Marcus Brann (ed.), Gesammelte Schriften von D. Kaufmann I (Frank- furt a.M., 1908), pp. 313–327. 29 “kritische Tiefe, Scharfsinn und glänzende Gelehrsamkeit”; “frommer edler Sinn,” in L. Zunz, Gottesdienstliche Vorträge, p. XIV. 30 See Alexander Marx, “Zunz and Steinschneider,” pp. 356–358. 31 Ibid., p. 358. Zunz was referring to Moritz Abraham Stern (1807–1894) and Theodor Creizenach (1818–1877). 32 Ibid., p. 361. Marx writes “fliegen” (flying), but this seems to be a misreading of “fliehen” (fleeing), so I’ve translated it thus. 90 céline trautmann-waller

In 1843 Steinschneider received a formal rabbinical diploma from Hirsch Baer Fassel, the rabbi (1836–53) of his native town, and also a very warm recommendation from Rapoport, but he finally gave up the Tarnopol option, and after Michael Sachs left Prague to accept an invitation to Berlin, Steinschneider soon followed him in 1845. Later the friendship with Sachs is said to have cooled because of Sachs’ orthodox tendencies. Upon Steinschneider’s return to Berlin the close and friendly relations with Zunz continued to the end of the latter’s long life. In July 1847 Zunz wrote to his friend Meier Isler in Hamburg: “On this occasion I recommend to your generosity Mr. M. Steinschneider, in case he comes to Hamburg in September and visits the library. Every favor that you do for him, put it on my account; he is one of the few who take things seriously.”33 Steinschneider actually went to Hamburg and Zunz, also there for several days, could report to Ehrenberg: “Here I’ve already spoken with Steinschneider, who was reveling several nights in Michaelian manuscripts, which gladdens me a lot for the sake of science, which will benefit from it.”34 Only one year later, in 1848, Steinschneider was asked to prepare the catalogue of Hebrew books in the Bodleian library. In 1851 he went to Oxford for the first time, then spent four summers there; as early as 1852 he was able to publish the first volume of the catalogue that established his reputation as a bibliographer of Hebrew and Jew- ish texts.35 This first tome was followed by the catalogues of Leiden (1858),36 Munich (1875 and 1895),37 Berlin (1878 and 1897),38 Ham- burg (1878)39 and of various private collections and libraries.

33 “Bei dieser Gelegenheit empfehle ich Ihrer Güte Herrn M. Steinschneider für den Fall, dass er im September Hamburg und die Bibliothek besucht. Jede Gefälligkeit, die Sie ihm erzeigen, schreiben Sie auf mein Conto; das ist einer der Wenigen, der es ernst meint.” Letter from Zunz to Meier Isler (28 July 1847), in N. N. Glatzer, L. Zunz, pp. 253–254. 34 “Hier habe ich bereits Steinschneider gesprochen, der einige Nächte in Michael- schen Handschriften geschwelgt hat, was mich der Wissenschaft wegen, der es zu Gute kommt, sehr freut.” Letter from Zunz to Philipp and Julie Ehrenberg (8 Oct. 1847), in N.N. Glatzer, Leopold Zunz and Adelheid Zunz: An Account in Letters (1815–1885) (London: Leo Baeck Insitute, 1958), p. 47. On H.J. Michael’s collection, see below. 35 CB, Jussu Curatorum digessit et notis instruxit M. Steinschneider, 2 vols. (Berlin: Asher, 1852 and 1860). 36 M. Steinschneider, Cat.Leiden (Leiden, 1858). 37 Cat. Munich (Munich, 1875; 2te grossenteils umgearbeitete und erweiterte Auﬂage, Munich, 1895). 38 Cat. Berlin, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1878 and 1897). 39 M. Steinschneider, Cat. Hamburg (Hamburg, 1878). struggle against ghettoization in science 91

Zunz was actively engaged in the German revolution of 1848, putting aside for a bit his scholarly work. He was very happy to write to the Ehrenberg family in March 1849, while the royal troops occupied Berlin, that “(M.) Steinschneider and S. Cassel, the authors of the article ‘Jews etc.’ in the Halle encyclopedia (. . .) are now both reporting for two Berlin newspapers about the negotiations concerning the Chamber(s). This is how the paths of Jewish scholars now intersect.”40 In addition, Steinschneider was commissioned reporter for the Ber- lin National-Zeitung to cover the sessions of the National Assembly in Frankfurt, and he worked as a correspondent for the Prager Zeitung. About a decade later we find him also active as an editor: in 1858 he founded his journal Ha Maskir, Hebräische Bibliographie, a project that Zunz supported from the beginning and for which he regularly wrote.41 Its purpose was strictly scientific: “For many people it hardly needs to be mentioned, but it still ought to be noted once and for all that our position is never a religious or a theological one, but always literary.”42 The program in its way continued Zunz’ fight to integrate Wissenschaft des Judentums within academia: But even in our more restricted circle a quick and yet not rash critique would only be possible if present-day Judaism had its own learned or academic guild (Gelehrtenstand) and corresponding institutions, if its science were properly acknowledged everywhere, so that to represent it in the general institutions, men valued as equals were appointed or, in part, only tolerated.43

40 “(M.) Steinschneider und S. Cassel, die Verfasser des Artikels Juden pp in der Hallischen Encyclopädie, sind jetzt beide Berichterstatter der Kammer-Verhandlun- gen für zwei Berliner Zeitungen. So durchkreuzen sich jetzt die Bahnen jüdischer Gelehrten.” Letter from Zunz to Philipp and Julie Ehrenberg (23 March 1849), in N.N. Glatzer, L. Zunz, pp. 303–304. The entry on “Juden” was to appear in Ersch & Gruber, Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, section ii, vol. 27 (Leipzig: Brockhaus 1850), pp. 1–238. 41 “Die Censur hebräischer Werke,” HB 2 (1858): 42–44; “Der Zürcher Semak,” HB 4 (1858): 83–86, and 5 (1858): 102–104; “Die Baraita Samuel’s,” HB 25 (1862):15– 20; “Elasar b. Samuel und Elieser b. Samuel,” HB 37 (1864): 20–21; “Das Buch Wehishir,” HB 43 (1865): 20–26; “Anzeige von Or Sarua,” HB 43 (1865): 1–3; “Nach- lese zur Spruchkunde,” HB 51 (1869): 86–89; “Mose Cohen b. Elasar,” HB 52 (1869): 113 ff.; “Zweite Nachlese zur Spruchkunde,” HB 85 (1875): 9–11. 42 “Es bedarf für Viele kaum der Erwähnung, muss aber doch ein für allemal bemerkt werden, dass unser Standpunkt nirgends ein religiöser oder theologischer, sondern stets der literarische ist.” M. Steinschneider, Programm, in HB 1 (1858): 2. 43 Ibid. “Aber auch innerhalb unseres engeren Kreises wäre eine schnelle und doch nicht übereilte Kritik nur möglich, wenn das Judenthum der Gegenwart einen eigentlichen Gelehrtenstand und ihm entsprechende Institutionen hätte, wenn seine 92 céline trautmann-waller

To some extent, one could say that Steinschneider harvested the fruits of Zunz’ efforts.44 Zunz had sent some of his books to the French Academy in 1837 and later complained that the French institutions took insufﬁcient notice of his works on synagogal poetry.45 In 1880, the same Academy offered Steinschneider an award for a complete bibliography of medieval translations into Hebrew. Steinschneider won this prize with a mémoire written in French in 1884. His book, Die Hebräi- schen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher: Ein Beitrag zur Literaturgeschichte des Mittelalters; meistenteils nach Handschriftlichen Quellen (Berlin, 1893), is an enlarged translation of this mémoire into German and a publication personally ﬁnanced by himself, as he pointed out in its Preface. In 1886 he again won a French Academy prize, this time with a work on Arabic translations from the Greek based on the Kitab-al-Fihrist, a “catalogue of the books of all people, Arabs or strangers, that exist in the Arabic language,” compiled in 10th-century Bagdad by Ibn al-Nadim. This second mémoire was also translated into German for publication.46 These books marked the real beginning of Steinschneider’s international career, with its focus on Hebrew bibliography and Jews as translators, two themes closely linked to Zunz as well, which will now be examined more closely.

Manuscripts, Books and Collections

As mentioned at the outset, among other things, both Zunz and Stein- schneider had a strong passion for manuscripts and books, also in their materiality. Zunz described the awakening of his philological vocation as follows: in November 1817, while hesitating between mathematics and philology, he was shown Hebrew manuscripts from

Wissenschaft überall gehörig gewürdigt wäre, um zu ihrer Vertretung an den allg. Institutionen ebenbürtige Männer zu berufen, zum Theil auch nur zu dulden.” 44 See what Zunz wrote to Steinschneider while the latter was in Prague: “If you devote yourself to Jewish learning do not expect a bed of roses, unless, as I wish with all my heart, the next generation may harvest the seed sown by the present one,” quoted by A. Marx, “Zunz and Steinschneider,” p. 350. 45 See Zunz’ letters to the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, to Alexander von Humboldt and Meyerbeer and the Academy’s answer, in Trautmann-Waller, Philologie allemande, pp. 287–289 and, for the complaint, the notes added by Zunz on two letters from Joseph Derenbourg, ibid., pp. 315–317. 46 M. Steinschneider, Arab. Üb., Beihefte zum Centralblatt für Bibliothekswesen XII (Leipzig, 1893). struggle against ghettoization in science 93

Constantinople, Edirne, Saloniki and Safed. According to David Kaufmann, who tended somewhat to romanticize Zunz’ life but did know quite a lot about it, this was one of the reasons why Zunz finally devoted his life to the study of Jewish literature.47 Other decisive moments came with reading Johann Christoph Wolf ’s Bibliotheca hebraea (Hamburg 1715–33) and the chronicle Zema David by the scholar, mathematician and astronomer David Gans (1541–1613), one of the few documents attesting Jewish interest in history before the time of I.M. Jost.48 As for Wolf ’s Bibliotheca hebraea, it shaped, together with Jacques Basnage’s (1653–1723) Histoire des Juifs and Johann Buxtorf ’s Bibliotheca Rabbinica (Basel, 1613), for more than a century the views held by the Christian scholarly world on Hebrew traditions. It is significant that the four volumes comprising the Bibliotheca hebraea were based in large parts on the well-known collection of manuscripts and printed books in the library of Rabbi David Oppenheimer. Born in Worms, Rabbi David ben Abraham Oppenheimer (1664– 1736) was a bibliophile from his early youth who used his great wealth to go on long journeys and obtain rare manuscripts with a view to subsidizing their publication. A visitor to the fairs in Leipzig, he kept in close touch with printers and dealers. In 1704 he became Chief Rabbi in Prague, a post he held until his death, at which time his library consisted of 780 Hebrew manuscripts and over 4,000 Hebrew printed books, embracing every branch of Jewish literature and learning, from the Bible up to the early 18th century. It passed to a son and then to Isaak Berend Salomon in Hamburg; after Salomon’s death, however, the collection became the subject of litigation, all the while stored in twenty-eight crates in a Hamburg warehouse. In 1828 Zunz undertook a trip to Hamburg to see and work on the collection, at a time when its possible break-up and dispersal by auction was loom- ing large, but in 1829 it was finally sold in its entirety to the Bodleian Library. Zunz then had to wait many years before being able to work on it again, this time in Oxford. In 1832 he complained in the Preface of his Gottesdienstliche Vorträge about the lack of progress in the science

47 D. Kaufmann, “Leopold Zunz,” in Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, vol. XLIII (Leipzig: Duncker & Humblot, 1898), reprinted in Markus Brann (ed.), Gesammelte Schriften von D. Kaufmann I (Frankfurt a.M.: Kauffmann, 1908), pp. 333–351, here p. 336. 48 Letter from Zunz to David Kaufmann (26 March 1877), in M. Brann, “Mitthei- lungen aus dem Briefwechsel zwischen Zunz und Kaufmann,” in Jahrbuch für jüdische Geschichte und Literatur 5 (1902): 183. 94 céline trautmann-waller of Judaism notwithstanding the efforts of eminent men, for he interpreted the collection’s move to England as a sign of disinterest: “Even the incomparable library of Oppenheimer had to emigrate to Oxford despite all the rich and pious Jews and all the erudite and powerful Christians, and could not find a refuge in Germany, which precisely in this field ranks quite significantly behind foreign countries (Parma, Florence, Rome, Leiden, Paris, Oxford).”49 In 1845 he nostalgically described the unique wealth of the Oppenheimer collection in a chapter of his Zur Geschichte und Literatur, dedicated to Jewish collections.50 In 1848 another important private collection of Jewish manuscripts and books left Germany for England, that of Heimann Joseph Michael (1792–1846), a bibliophile from Hamburg. The manuscripts belonging to his collection (862 volumes) were bought by the Bodleian Library, while his large collection of 5,471 printed volumes went to the Brit- ish Museum. There were few books in this collection which Michael had not read, and he himself had undertaken the preparation of a full catalogue of it. Whatever he had accomplished of this task became the foundation of the catalogue published in 1848 with a foreword by Zunz and a register by Steinschneider.51 Ludwig Geiger has described the desperate efforts made by Zunz after Michael’s death to prevent his collection from leaving Germany. But his letters to the Royal Library in Berlin and to the Prussian Ministry of education were in vain.52 In a letter to Minister Eichhorn, Zunz explained why it was so important in his eyes to keep the collection in Germany. As everyone was copying from older books, only direct access to complete and rich sources would further scholarly work and free it from old prejudices

49 “Selbst die unvergleichliche Oppenheimersche Bibliothek musste, trotz allen reichen und frommen Juden und allen gelehrten und mächtigen Christen, nach Oxford auswandern und konnte kein Asyl in Deutschland ﬁnden, das gerade in diesem Fache dem Auslande (Parma, Florenz, Rom, Leyden, Paris, Oxford) sehr bedeutend nach- steht.” L. Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden, 2nd ed., 1832, p. XI. 50 See L. Zunz, Zur Geschichte und Literatur (Berlin, 1845), pp. 235–239. The third part of the book is titled “Bibliographisches.” Five parts are devoted successively to: “Daten-Bestimmungen”; “Sammlungen und Verzeichnisse”; “Drucker und Drucke von Mantua (A. 1476 bis 1662)”; “Druckereien in Prag”; “Annalen der hebräischen Typographie von Prag, vom Jahre 1513 bis zum Jahre 1657.” 51 Ozerot Hayyim, Katalog der Michael‘schen Bibliothek, nebst Register zum Verzeichnis der Handschriften von M. Steinschneider und einem Vorworte von L. Zunz (Ham- burg, 1848). 52 Letter to Eichhorn (17 Aug. 1846), in Ludwig Geiger, “Zunz im Verkehr mit Behörden und Hochgestellten,” in Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Juden- tums 60 (1916): 321–347. struggle against ghettoization in science 95 concerning Judaism: “Without new and extensive studies of the sources, however, it will not be possible to move beyond obsolescent viewpoints.”53 In Gottesdienstliche Vorträge he expressed his disgust at seeing how “objections already successfully refuted a long time ago are served up like everlasting cabbage.”54 The work on original Jewish sources had been complicated by the loss of these two major collections and it was now necessary to undertake expensive trips to foreign countries to study them. When Stein- schneider went to Oxford in 1851, Zunz wrote to him: “You sit at the fountain for which I have been thirsting since olden times.”55 Steinschneider has sometimes been debunked as a mere bibliographer, a man who could only catalogue books in libraries and who had no sense for living culture. This reproach is often directed also at the science of Judaism as a whole: that it allegedly combines the heritage of German philology, an antiquarian science alien to real life, with scientiﬁc practices rooted in an assimilationist worldview that permitted Judaism to be seen only in a morbid way.56 Nonetheless, one could say today that Steinschneider’s sense for the materiality of books and all the information contained in their external appearance was very modern. When he later published the notes of the lectures on Jewish manuscripts, their conservation and catalogization that he had given at the Veitel-Heine-Ephraim’sche Lehranstalt, Steinschneider spelled out his “philosophy” of cultural life: “The content of these lectures could be seen as a component of the introduction to Jewish literature. If the objects treated here may seem to be something external, in fact, in the area of the spirit (Geist) there exists nothing absolutely external; it depends only on the observer.”57

53 Ibid., p. 333: “Aber ohne neue und gründliche Studien der Quellen wird man über Veraltetes nicht hinauskommen.” 54 L. Zunz, Gottesdienstliche Vorträge, p. X: “dass man längst siegreich widerlegte Ein- würfe wie unsterblichen Kohl auftischt.” 55 A. Marx, “Zunz’ Letters to Steinschneider,” in Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research 5 (1934): 95–112. 56 See esp. Gershom Scholem, “Wissenschaft vom Judentum einst und jetzt,” in Leo Baeck Institute Bulletin 9 (1960): 10–20. This debate is analyzed in the chapter “Atmosphère tombale ou les rapports entre la science et la vitalité d’une culture,” in C. Trautmann-Waller, Philologie allemande, pp. 256–267. 57 “Der Inhalt dieser Vorlesungen könnte als ein Bestandteil der Einleitung in die jüdische Literatur angesehen werden. Wenn auch die hier behandelten Gegenstände als etwas Äusserliches erscheinen, so giebt es in der That auf dem Gebiete des Geistes nichts absolut Äusserliches; es kommt nur auf den Betrachter an.” Vorlesungen, p. 1. 96 céline trautmann-waller

He defends a similar vision in his research on Jewish typography, a field once explored by Zunz, which Steinschneider developed together with his friend David Cassel: But the history of Jewish book printing presses is not merely an indispensable auxiliary science of Jewish literary history, with which it is linked here more closely than in other literary spheres and for which it helps to rectify innumerable errors that were due to the ignorance of older and newer bibliographers, no, it is actually a significant factor for Jewish cultural history itself. As the different situations of the Jews are faithfully reflected in the literary achievements of the period, so are the typographical products of the last four centuries, so to speak, a second reflection of what space and ground, in the pressures and changes of the times, was left for intellectual development, a weaker reflection but still recognizable to the experienced eye. In the following presentation, it will be possible to find—wherever Jewish printing presses blossomed, were more or less active, [then] sooner or later ceased to be—from the general history of the Jews of the corresponding period and of the corresponding place, the key for some things which tend, seemingly by chance, to escape the eye of the researcher, as was proved with striking examples by Zunz in the case of the history of the printing presses of Mantua and Prague.58 For Steinschneider as well as for Zunz, this interest in the material aspects of culture was grounded in the will to study very precisely the reality of Jewish life in all its details. By doing this, they wanted to oppose various ideological orientations, but their own perspective was

58 M. Steinschneider und D. Cassel, “Jüdische Typographie und Jüdischer Buch- handel,” in Ersch & Gruber, Allg. Encyclopädie, Section ii, Part 28 (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1851), pp. 21–94; (reprint: Jerusalem, 1938), here pp. 1–2: “Es ist aber die Geschichte der jüdischen Buchdruckereien nicht bloss eine unentbehrliche Hilfswissenschaft der jüdischen Literaturgeschichte, mit der sie hier enger als in sonst einer literarischen Sphäre verknüpft ist, und für die sie unzählige, durch die Unkenntnis älterer und neuerer Bibliographen verschuldeter Fehler berichtigen hilft, sondern sie ist überhaupt ein bedeutsames Moment für die jüdische Culturgeschichte selbst. Wie die jeweiligen Zustände der Juden sich in den literarischen Leistungen der Zeit getreu abspiegeln, so sind die Erzeugnisse der Typographie für die letzten vier Jahrhunderte gleichsam ein zweiter, wenn auch schwächerer, doch dem geübten Auge erkennbarer Widerschein dessen, was in der Zeiten Drang und Wechsel der geistigen Entwickelung Raum und Boden liess. Es wird sich in der folgenden Darstellung überall, wo jüdische Drucke- reien erblühten, mehr oder weniger wirkten, früher oder später vergingen, aus der allgemeinen Geschichte der Juden der entsprechenden Zeit und des betreffenden Ortes der Schlüssel für Manches ﬁnden lassen, was als scheinbar zufällig dem Forscher- auge zu entgehen pﬂegt wie dies bereits in schlagenden Beispielen von Zunz an der Geschichte der Druckereien in Mantua und Prag nachgewiesen worden.” struggle against ghettoization in science 97 also grounded in a certain philosophy of culture or “tendency” (Ten- denz), as Steinschneider called it in some of his forewords.

The Jews as Translators and the Romance with Spain

For Steinschneider as well as for Zunz, it was quite difficult to use the common model of “national literatures” (Nationalliteraturen) to encompass the entire corpus of Jewish books and manuscripts or the complexity of Jewish culture. The history of Jewish literature always seemed to burst out of this frame. In his works, Zunz emphasized that Jewish cultural history had no parallel: no unique geographical anchoring, no common state, no common language (except for ancient Hebrew), no common rites. The only way to present the Jews was as an atypical people. As early as in his Gottesdienstliche Vorträge he pointed out that the cultures among which Jews lived exerted their own influences, ranging from languages and poetry to clothing and cooking, on the religious and more generally cultural life on their Jewish co- inhabitants. This perspective was further developed in his book on synagogal rites: “Innumerable representations and customs have their origin and evolution in the context of living with other people.”59 He saw in it not merely a negative consequence of exile but also an enrich- ing experience. As for Michael Sachs, his study of foreign words in the Talmud and the Midrashim became, according to David Kaufmann, “a history of the contact between two cultures, two linguistic circles. Back and forth the threads run, back and forth the rays flash; Greek and Latin words are examined for [eventual] Semitic influences; modern Hebrew and Syriac reveal the impressions that they got from the classical languages.”60 In an article on Islam and Judaism published in 1880, Steinschneider noted that forty years previously he had already wanted, in his youthful

59 L. Zunz, Die Ritus des synagogalen Gottesdienstes geschichtlich entwickelt (Berlin: Springer, 1858), p. 4: “Unzählige Vorstellungen und Gebräuche haben ihren Ursprung, ihre Fortbildung in dem Zusammenhang des Lebens mit andern Völkern.” 60 D. Kaufmann, M. Sachs, in Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, vol. XXX (1890), p. 131; reprinted in M. Brann, Gesammelte Schriften von D. Kaufmann 1, p. 330: “zur Geschichte der Berührung zweier Culturen, zweier Sprachenkreise. Hinüber und herüber laufen die Fäden, schiessen die Strahlen, griechische und lateinische Wörter werden auf semitische Einflüsse verhört, Neuhebräisch und Syrisch offenbaren ihre Eindrücke aus den klassischen Sprachen.” 98 céline trautmann-waller enthusiasm, to study the relations between Islam and Judaism in their religious, literary and historico-cultural aspects.61 In the Introduction to his Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters, he also described the genesis of his scientific program and explained how as early as 1845 he had thought of publishing his Arabische Literatur der Juden in the form of Ferdinand Wüstenfeld’s Geschichte der arabischen Ärzte und Naturforscher, subtitled “nach den Quellen bearbeitet” (1840). This was when he began to work on the article “Jüdische Literatur” for Ersch and Gru- ber’s Encyclopaedia that Zunz and Leberecht Fleischer had declined to write. At that time he keenly felt the lack of sources, which meant more than a lacuna: “It concerned the influence of foreign literatures on Jewish literature, an influence which offers an important point of view for the final judgment on the latter.”62 Anyway, “the interaction of Jewish and Arabic culture (Bildung) in writing, language, ideas (Ideengang) and custom (Brauch) still had to be examined in detail. (. . .) The participation of the Jews in Christian literature in the fields of philosophy, medicine, mathematics and popular literature was hardly known.”63 This is how his research came to be guided towards “the scientific literature of Europe which Jews had worked on, a field touched upon almost solely by Zunz and, even today, not yet exploited for cultural history (Culturgeschichte).”64 A letter from Alexander von Humboldt to Steinschneider’s former friend Michael Sachs shows that the German scientific explorer understood these efforts very well: “I certainly don’t belong to those who failed to acknowledge what the general culture of learning in the West owes to the Jewish literature of the Middle Ages. It is through erudite

61 M. Steinschneider, “Islam und Judentum,” in Magazin für die Wissenschaft des Judentums (Berlin, 1880): 1. 62 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, Vorrede, p. IX: “er betraf den Einﬂuss fremder Litera- turen auf die jüdische, welcher einen wichtigen Gesichtspunkt für das Endurteil über dieselbe darbietet.” 63 Ibid., p. IX: “Wechselwirkung jüdischer u. arabischer Bildung in Schrift, Sprache, Ideengang und Brauch war noch im Einzelnen zu untersuchen. (. . .) Die Teilnahme der Juden an christlicher Literatur auf den Gebieten der Philosophie, Medicin, Mathe- matik und Volksliteratur war kaum geahnt.” 64 M. Steinschneider, Arab. Lit., Einleitung, p. XLVII: “die wissenschaftliche Lite- ratur Europas, welche unter den Juden Bearbeiter gefunden, ein Gebiet, das fast nur von Zunz gestreift war und noch heute für die Culturgeschichte nicht ausgebeutet ist.” struggle against ghettoization in science 99

Jews that the Christians came in contact with the Arabs and it is mostly thanks to the Arabs (. . .) that Europe got to know the Greeks.”65 This interest in the importance of cultural exchange for Jewish cultural history and for cultural history in general had an important influence on the choice of research subjects. One can notice among the representatives of the science of Judaism a predilection for the Spanish period, when these exchanges seemed to have been very intense. In the Preface to his work Die arabische Literatur der Juden, Steinschneider referred to the common distinction between the “Portuguese” and “German” periods in the history of the Jews during the Middle Ages: “German-French literature with its East-European offshoots (Aus- läufern)” had been studied into the smallest details since Zunz. Now that Arabic was better known and the field of vision larger, the separation had to be redefined as one between “Jews under Arabic domination and ( Jews) under Christian domination.”66 Even if he thought that everything ought to be integrated into the cultural history to which he aspired and that one should not be guided only by personal taste, as he explained in his Die europäischen Übersetzungen aus dem Arabischen,67 it is clear that his own preference was for the Jewish culture under Arabic rule, characterized, as he saw it, by mutual tolerance and the participation of the Jews in the general reflections of the period: Here separation in state, profession and society, extortion, expulsion, inquisition, harassment (Hetze), persecution, arson and plundering, false accusations of poisoning wells and ritual murder; but close family life, faith in otherworldly retribution and in national restoration, associated with inflexible adherence to tradition—religious persecution steels (one)

65 Letter of Alexander von Humboldt to Michael Sachs (Michael-Sachs-Sammlung P 41/2), quoted in F.D. Lucas and H. Frank, Michael Sachs. Der konservative Mittelweg, pp. 80–81: “Ich gehöre gewiss nicht zu denen, welche verkannt haben, was die allgemeine occidentale Bildung der jüdischen Literatur des Mittelalters schuldet. Durch gelehrte Juden sind die Christen mit den Arabern in Verkehr gekommen und aus den Arabern (. . .) lernte grösstentheils erst Europa die Griechen kennen.” 66 M. Steinschneider, Arab. Lit., p. VII. 67 “Und doch darf man die Dokumente über eine Seite der Kulturgeschichte aus subjektiver Antipathie nicht von der Forschung ausscheiden, schon darum nicht, weil sie eben eine Seite, wenn auch eine Schattenseite, ist, die mit den anderen zusam- menhängt und über allerlei Fragliches mitunter die beste Auskunft gibt.” M. Stein- schneider, Die europäischen Übersetzungen aus dem Arabischen bis Mitte des 17. Jahrhunderts, Sitzungsberichte der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien. Philoso- phisch-historische Klasse, 1904–1905 (reprint: Graz: Druck.- und Verl. -Anstalt, 1956), p. IX. 100 céline trautmann-waller

like an anvil until martyrdom—excess of intellectual acuity, wasted on casuistic and hermeneutical minutia (Minutiositäten), faith and superstition Siamese twins, the eye always turned towards heaven out of a vale of tears! Poetry has the pleasure of painting a romantic glow over this; the sober researcher is filled with horror at the barbaric reality; he likes to turn to where the tolerated person (Geduldete) was granted a human existence in which his spirit was allowed to rise above national barriers towards the highest questions of life, believing it had already grasped on earth, in the union (conjunctio) with the “active intellect,” the problem and ideal of human thought.68 This idealized picture of the so-called Portuguese period, or “romance with Spain” as Ismar Schorsch termed it,69 is characteristic not only of Zunz and Steinschneider. Nearly all the authors cited in the present article indulged in it, extending from Zunz’ thesis on Shem Tov Falaqera to Salomon Munk’s Mélanges de philosophie arabe et juive (Paris, 1859) or to Michael Sachs’ Die religiöse Poesie der Juden in Spanien (Berlin, 1845). This reconstructed and dreamt-of Golden Age of Jewish life was seen to reflect contemporary German-Jewish life, the guarantee of a successful assimilation which would mean true intellectual exchange and not the extinction of Judaism. The figure of Judah Ha-Levi, philosopher and poet, played an important role in this idealized vision. We have noted above that David Cas- sel edited his Kuzari. He is also central, of course, for Michael Sachs’ study on Jewish religious literature in Spain, a book from which Heine got some of the information that enabled him to write the poem “Juda

68 Moritz Steinschneider, Arab. Lit., pp. VII–VIII: “Hier Absonderung in Staat, Gewerbe und Gesellschaft, Erpressung, Vertreibung, Inquisition, Hetze, Verfolgung, Brand und Plünderung, falsche Beschuldigung von Brunnenvergiftung und Ritualmord; dagegen inniges Familienleben, Zuversicht auf jenseitige Vergeltung und nationale Wiederherstellung, verbunden mit starrem Festhalten an Hergebrachtem—religiöse Verfolgung stählt wie ein Ambos bis zum Märtyrertum,—Überschuss an geistiger Schärfe, verschwendet an casuistische und hermeneutische Minutiositäten, Glauben und Aberglauben siamesische Zwillinge, das Auge stets zum Himmel gerichtet aus einem Jammertal! Der Poesie ist es gegönnt, einen romantischen Schimmer darüber zu malen; den nüchternen Geschichtsforscher erfüllt die barbarische Wirklichkeit mit Grauen; er wendet sich gern dorthin, wo dem Geduldeten ein menschliches Dasein gegönnt war, in welchem sein Geist über die nationalen Schranken hinaus zu den höchsten Lebensfragen sich erheben durfte und in der Vereinigung (conjunctio) mit dem ‘activen Intellect’ schon auf Erden das Problem und Ideal des menschlichen Denkens erfasst zu haben glaubte.” 69 Ismar Schorsch, “The Myth of Sephardic Supremacy,” Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute 26 (1989): 47–66. struggle against ghettoization in science 101

Halevi” for the Hebrew Melodies of his Romancero.70 As for Stein- schneider, he repeatedly quoted Ha-Levi; this is also the case in the Preface to Die arabische Literatur der Juden, where he advocates freedom of thought, God as a creation of men as well as the compatibility of belief and science, defined as strictly human and rejecting the supremacy of theology: The Aggadah tells how God created and destroyed many worlds; Arabic theologians taught that God never stops creating; History shows that Man never stops creating God in his own image. The peace of God, the messianic prophecy of the beating of swords into plowshares (Micah 4:3), will not be fulfilled until the fight about God and for God stops, until we admit with Socrates and the highly believing Jehuda ha- Levi: “I don’t fight against your theological science, I only affirm that I don’t understand it and that I call mine only human science.”71 In his Die europäischen Übersetzungen aus dem Arabischen, Steinschneider explained how the Jews from the North of Spain and from Provence became “natural mediators” (natürliche Vermittler) between the literature of medieval Europe and that of the Orient.72 In his work on medieval Hebrew translations, he tries to reconstruct historically how the Jews became the “people of languages” (Volk der Sprachen).73 His research on translations (translations into Hebrew, translations from Greek into Arabic, European translations from the Arabic) led him to conclude that “the international cultural mediators are preferably the interlingual ones, i.e., the translators.”74 He also stressed the complexity of the resulting “mixture and combination,” which still allowed

70 On this complex, see C. Trautmann-Waller, “Du Rabbin de Bacharach aux ‘Mélodies hébraïques’ du Romancero. Le judaïsme entre science et poésie,” in Heinrich Heine. Poésie et Histoire, Revue Germanique Internationale 9 (1998): 115–128. 71 M. Steinschneider, Arab. Lit, Vorwort, p. IX: “Die Haggada erzählt, wie Gott viele Welten schuf und zerstörte; arabische Theologen lehrten, Gott höre nicht auf zu schaffen; die Geschichte zeigt, dass der Mensch nicht aufhört, Gott zu schaffen, nach dem eigenen Bilde. Der Gottesfrieden, die messianische Prophezeiung vom Umschleifen der Schwerter zu Sicheln (Micha 4, 3) wird nicht eher erfüllt, als bis man aufhört um Gott und für Gott—zu streiten, bis man mit Sokrates und dem hoch- gläubigen Jehuda ha-Levi gesteht: ‘Ich streite nicht gegen euere theologische Wissen- schaft, ich behaupte nur, dass ich sie nicht verstehe und nur menschliche Wissenschaft die meinige nenne.’” To the quotation from Judah ha-Levi Steinschneider added in a footnote: “Kusari V, 14, p. 405, ed. 1853, inexactly translated; see CL [=Stein- schneider’s own abbreviation for Cat.Leiden], 78).” 72 M. Steinschneider, Die europäischen Übersetzungen aus dem Arabischen, p. IV. 73 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, Vorrede, p. XV. 74 Ibid., p. IX: “Die internationalen Culturvermittler sind vorzugsweise die inter- lingualen, d.h. Uebersetzer.” 102 céline trautmann-waller for the establishment of “bridges.”75 The way was not far from these reﬂections to a scientiﬁcally fruitful conception of the Jews as cultural mediators. In the case of Abraham Geiger, this insistence on the positive role played by the Jews in the history of humanity, precisely through their peculiar cultural situation, had a more spiritual dimension. For him, who had won a prize with his study on “what Muhammad had taken from Judaism,” the Diaspora became the means to realize a universal spiritual mission, for Jewish culture was a kind of motor for the evolution of the human spirit. This he explained in the spiritual testament he left to his son Ludwig Geiger, advising him to put at the core of his scholarly work “most particularly the way Jews and Judaism set humanity spiritually in motion.”76 On this point he seems quite close to Steinschneider. But if the predilection for Spain or for the “Portuguese period,” as Steinschneider calls it, provided a common background to most of the German- Jewish representatives of the science of Judaism and if many did indulge in a vision of the Jews as mediators between cultures, their conception of the relationship between science and religion was not always the same, as we are about to see.

Steinschneider, Zunz and the Science of Judaism in Berlin

“Though Berlin almost bursts with culture, love, philosophy, Sophie (Schröder-Devrient), no one amounts to anything unless he is ein Christ mit Titel oder ein Jude mit Mittel. The activity of the present monkeys, foxes and wolves is exactly like the contemporaries of Kohelet, only the tails are painted differently.”77 This is how Zunz described the desperate situation of a Jewish scholar in Berlin around the middle of the 19th century.

75 Ibid., p. XIII: “Vermischung und Verquickung.” 76 “und zumal die geistige Bewegung, welche Juden und Judentum in die Mensch- heit gebracht haben.” Letter from Abraham Geiger to his son Ludwig Geiger, in H.D. Holzmann, “Ludwig Geiger (1848–1919). Ein Beitrag über sein Leben und sein Werk unter dem Aspekt seiner Bibliothek und weiterer Archivalien,” in J.H. Schoeps (ed.), Menora. Jahrbuch für deutsch-jüdische Geschichte (Munich: Philo Verlagsgesellschaft 1991), p. 252. 77 Letter from Zunz to Steinschneider, quoted by A. Marx, “Zunz and Stein- schneider,” p. 350. struggle against ghettoization in science 103

In the context of the Wissenschaft des Judentums in Germany and more specifically in Berlin, Zunz and Steinschneider had to deal with similar problems. At a time when, despite Zunz’ repeated efforts, Jewish Stud- ies was not established at German universities and when no scientific institutions existed completely independent of religious orientations and groups, Jewish scholars, in order to earn a living, had to work as preachers, rabbis, private or public teachers, lecturers or to find posts in journalism, libraries, in the Jewish communities or in various institutions with a scientific purpose but also linked to rabbinical training. As we have seen, both Zunz and Steinschneider tried all of these options. Zunz worked as a preacher in Beer’s Temple (1821–22), redactor at the Haude und Spener’sche Zeitschrift (1823–31), director of the Jewish Gemeindeschule in Berlin (1826–29), (reform) preacher in Prague (1835–36), and finally director of the Jewish teacher-training program (Lehrerseminar) (1840–50). Steinschneider began by giving private lessons, worked also as a journalist before becoming a lecturer at the Veitel-Heine-Ephraim’sche Lehranstalt (1859–1907); he was in charge of administering the Jewish oath more judaico (1860–69), an assistant (Hilfsarbeiter) in Berlin’s Royal Library (1869–1907) and head of the Jewish community’s school for girls (1869–90). Their situation was rendered particularly difficult because, unable to identify completely with any of the religious tendencies, they denounced the use of scientific research as an instrument to defend religious options. Zunz started by supporting Reform Judaism, then criticized it violently. About Abraham Geiger he wrote that “party people lose their sense of judgment.”78 He also branded Zacharias Frankel’s notion of the science of Judaism being a “science of faith” (Glaubenswissenschaft).”79 He was probably thinking of Geiger and Frankel (1801–1875), among others, when he wrote in his diary: “But the rabbis assume a demeanor as if they had actually founded this science, although it was, quite the opposite, achieved in a struggle against them.”80 A strong echo resounds between these words of Zunz’ and a more general declaration by Steinschneider: “Religion is not science

78 Letter from Zunz to the Ehrenberg family (28 Dec. 1845), reproduced in N.N. Glatzer, “Some of Zunz’ Letters to the Ehrenbergs,” Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research 25 (1956): 63–90, here p. 66. 79 Ibid., p. 156. 80 Ibid., p. 141: “Aber die Rabbiner nehmen die Miene an, als wenn sie eigentlich diese Wissenschaft gegründet, da sie umgekehrt in dem Kampfe gegen sie errungen ist.” 104 céline trautmann-waller in the more limited sense (of the word); rather, in principle it is the natural adversary of the latter: here absence of presuppositions, there authority; here the laws of nature, there miracles.”81 Steinschneider seems at least to have found an institution with which he could identify in the Veitel-Heine-Ephraim’sche Lehranstalt in Berlin, where he was active until his death. A great number of his books are rewritten versions of his lectures there. Originally founded as a Bet Ha-Midrash around 1774 following the testament of Veitel Heine Ephraim (1703–1775), jeweler and mint-master at the Prussian court, it devoted itself after 1783 to general higher studies of Jewish history and literature.82 Steinschneider himself described the program of his lectures in the Lehranstalt as follows: Introduction to the Jewish literature of the Middle Ages (incl. the writings in languages other than Hebrew); literature of the Jews related to philosophy or to religious philosophy, taking particularly into consideration that of the Arabs; historical literature; biographies of well-known scholars from the Xth and XIth centuries; halakhic (legal) literature from the end of the Talmud until Josef Karo (mid-XVIth cent.); the Arabic literature of the Jews.83 He praised the institution for its independence: The Veitel’sche Lehranstalt is even today the only one of Jewish origin that does not have to serve religious or even ritual and cultural aims or that is not subject to such a control. Teachers and listeners are under no confessional restrictions; their discipline is dictated only by rigorous science. With comparatively shrunken means, but independent of pious charity, the teachers have in view only the consciousness of acting freely, the pupils, the unique beneﬁt of benevolent instruction.84

81 M. Steinschneider, Arab. Lit., Vorwort, p. IX: “Religion ist nicht Wissenschaft im engeren Sinne, sondern im Princip natürliche Gegnerin derselben: hier Vorausset- zungslosigkeit, dort Autorität, hier Naturgesetz, dort Wunder.” 82 See Harry van der Linden, “Die Veitel Heine Ephraimsche Lehranstalt,” in Karl E. Grözinger (ed.), Die Stiftungen der preussisch-jüdischen Hofjuweliersfamilie Ephraim und ihre Spuren in der Gegenwart (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009), pp. 13–52. 83 Vorlesungen, p. III: “Einleitung in die jüdische Litteratur des Mittelalters (incl. der Schriften in nichthebräischer Sprache); Philosophische und religions-philosophische Litteratur der Juden mit besonderer Rücksicht auf die der Araber; Geschichtliche Litteratur; Biographien berühmter Gelehrter des X. u XI. Jahrhundert; Halachische (gesetzliche) Litteratur vom Schluss des Talmuds bis Josef Karo (Mitte XVI. Jahrh.); Die arabische Literatur der Juden.” 84 Ibid., pp. III–IV: “Die Veitel’sche Lehranstalt ist noch heute die einzige jüdi- schen Ursprungs, welche nicht religiösen oder gar rituellen und Kultus-Zwecken zu dienen hat oder einer derartigen Kontrolle unterliegt. Lehrer und Zuhörer stehen struggle against ghettoization in science 105

Among Steinschneider’s students there were many young men who later became prominent Jewish scholars: Ignác Goldziher, Solomon Schechter, Hayyim Brody, Judah L. Magnes, Henry Malter, Alexan- der Marx, George A. Kohut and others. The only thing which Stein- schneider deplored was that the different origins and levels of these students made his task sometimes quite difficult: Just the diversity of the latter [the students] in respect to fatherland (from Kiev and Rome to New York), language and especially educational background, which the registration in university requires to such a low degree from foreigners, make the task of lecturing unusually difficult (. . .). To these subjective problems one must add external difficulties concerning the familiarity with and access to auxiliary aids and sources. Jewish literature offers to the researcher the fate of Ahasuerus: eternal wandering in foreign fields.85 Quite naturally Steinschneider as well as Zunz was asked to participate in one way or another in the project of the “Hochschule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums,” which its founders viewed as the crown- ing achievement of all the struggles for a true scholarly recognition of Judaism and of the science of Judaism. As we noted earlier, both refused even to attend the opening ceremony. To those who told him he had to be there as the founder of the science of Judaism, Zunz answered that Salomon Juda Leib Rapoport had founded it before him. Abraham Geiger recorded that Hermann Cohen reported that Zunz’ explanation of his refusal was that he did not want to accredit by his presence the confinement of science to a new ghetto, but Geiger himself thought that in reality these words had been uttered by Stein- schneider.86 This anecdote and the hesitation show how close Zunz and Steinschneider seemed to their contemporaries, both in their

unter keinerlei konfessioneller Beschränkung, ihre Disciplin diktiert allein die strenge Wissenschaft. Mit verhältnismässig gering gewordenen Mitteln, aber unabhängig von frommer Wohlthätigkeit, haben die Lehrer nur das Bewusstsein eines freien Wirkens, die Schüler die einzige Wohltat wohlwollender Belehrung im Auge.” 85 Ibid., p. IV: “Allein die Verschiedenheit der letzteren an Vaterland (von Kiew und Rom bis New York), Sprache und namentlich Vorbildung, welche die Univer- sitätsmatrikel bei Ausländern in so geringem Masse verlangt, bieten dem Vortrage ungewöhnliche Schwierigkeiten (. . .). Zu diesen subjektiven Bedenklichkeiten kommen äussere Schwierigkeiten in Bezug auf die Kenntnisnahme und Zugänglichkeit der Hülfsmittel und der Quellen. Die jüdische Litteratur bietet dem Forscher das Schicksal Ahasvers—ewige Wanderung auf fremden Gebieten.” 86 Ismar Elbogen, “Leopold Zunz zum Gedächtnis,” pp. 29–32 in Fünfzigster Bericht der Lehranstalt für die Wissenschaft des Judentums (Berlin, 1936). 106 céline trautmann-waller scientific ideals and in their causticity. It is true that both of them used the metaphor of the scientific or spiritual ghetto in their writings. Zunz wrote in 1848 in his letter to Minister Ladenberg: “There was no one competent for Jewish questions as Jewish science had been banished to a ghetto, together with the Jews. The ghetto has been blown up but the banishment has not yet been revoked.”87 As for Steinschneider, he had declared in his opus on Hebrew medieval translations that “for the spirit there is no ghetto!”88 The relationship between Zunz and Steinschneider introduces us to the intellectual history of a whole generation of Jewish scholars who have contributed substantially to our understanding and view of Jewish culture. Today’s specialists may find the stark contrasting of the “Portuguese” and the “German” periods a bit exaggerated and in need of revision. It is true that beyond a romantic view of the shtetl, the development of new trends in Jewish Studies at the beginning of the 20th century has taught us that perhaps the culture of East-European Jews comprised more than conservatism and mysticism. As for Zunz’ and Steinschneider’s reservations about the Hochschule für die Wis- senschaft des Judentums, they seem to have been somewhat justified by its failure to secure official German credentials as a recognized academic institution equal to a university, for it ended up serving mostly as a rabbinical training seminary. One wonders then how Zunz and Steinschneider lived out their lives and what became of the hopes linked to their struggle for the critical scientific study of Judaism. Zunz at least was supported in his last years, and not only financially, by the Zunz-Stiftung (Foundation), set up by the public-health pioneer Salomon Neumann (1819–1908) for his seventieth birthday (August 10, 1864) and in which Stein- schneider was quite active. But more important, it seems to me, is Steinschneider’s understanding for the bitterness of the aging Zunz: “He dedicated himself to the idea that history, known in its truth, would be the guide for future transformations in religion as well as in politics. He was bound to experience disappointments in this (hope)

87 “Für jüdische Angelegenheiten gab es keine Sachverständige, da jüdische Wis- senschaft mit den Juden in ein Ghetto verwiesen war. Das Ghetto ist gesprengt, aber die Verweisung noch nicht aufgehoben.” Letter from Zunz to the Education Minister, Ladenberg, quoted in Ludwig Geiger, “Zunz im Verkehr mit Behörden und Hoch- gestellten,” in Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums 60 (1916): 335. 88 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, p. XXII: “Für den Geist giebt es kein Ghetto!” struggle against ghettoization in science 107 which brought discontent to his old age.”89 Perhaps it was the disappointment of the elder scholar that taught Steinschneider not to over- rate the possibilities of science: “I’m writing about Jews but not for them, not pro domo. One cannot instruct the enemies of the Jews, least of all through history.”90 As for himself, Steinschneider in his last books left a kind of testament which is characterized by a mixture of contempt and serenity. He soberly admits that “there are ﬁelds which never become popular” and that among these must be reckoned certain aspects of literary history. In contrast, what is offered to “the people” (dem Volke) is often a “lean bone doused with water.”91 As a translation specialist, he concludes that especially translations teach us “the sad truth, that no merchandise is more suited for propagation than—folly.”92

89 M. Steinschneider, “Vorrede zur 2. Auﬂage,” in L. Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge (1892 ed.), p. XVI: “er gab sich dem Gedanken hin, dass richtig erkannte Geschichte der Führer der künftigen Umwandlung in Religion, wie in der Politik, sein werde. Er musste darüber Enttäuschungen erfahren, die sein hohes Alter missmutig machten.” 90 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, p. XII: “Ich schreibe über Juden aber nicht für sie, nicht pro domo. Judenfeinde belehrt man nicht, am wenigsten durch Geschichte.” 91 Ibid.: “es giebt Gebiete, die nie volkstümlich werden.” And: “magerer Knochen mit Aufguss von Wasser.” 92 M. Steinschneider, Die europäischen Übersetzungen aus dem Arabischen, p. VIII: “die traurige Wahrheit, dass keine Ware mehr geeignet sei, Verbreitung zu ﬁnden, als— die Unvernunft.” 4. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER’S NOTION OF ENCYCLOPEDIAS

Arndt Engelhardt

Moritz Steinschneider had the reputation of being decidedly critical of attempts to popularize science and he was known to advocate elitist ideals of scholarship. That was the view of the Budapest rabbi and scholar Meyer Kayserling (1829–1905), set out in an article on the occasion of Steinschneider’s 80th birthday. There he sketched an impressive portrait of Steinschneider’s scholarly-scientific career. In Kayserling’s analysis, his trajectory was distinguished by having introduced “individual disciplines of Jewish literature into modern science,” building upon the foundations of the Wissenschaft des Judentums laid by Leopold Zunz, and pursuing pathways to link Jewish and general culture.1 But Steinschneider had not been “particularly enamored” of “popular scientific studies,” nor had he written “for the larger mass audience.” Kayserling cites a statement by Steinschneider himself that appears to confirm precisely this elitist attitude on his part: “I write only for readers who have relevant knowledge of the topic, who want to learn and can. [. . .] My bibliographical studies do not belong before a large audience. Nor is it my intention in any way to make things easier for hasty compilers who lack even the rudiments of criticism.”2 Such comments have been repeatedly used to explain why he preferred a dry style and the abundance of facts his dense texts contained. Writing in the Zionist paper Jüdische Rundschau, the German Ori- entalist and librarian Gotthold Weil (1882–1960), in his obituary for Steinschneider, quotes several remarks about the encyclopedic projects of his teacher and mentor. He points out that Steinschneider deliberately kept his distance from Jewish scientific associations, and had

1 M[oritz Meyer] Kayserling, “Moritz Steinschneider,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums 60 (1896), no. 13 [27 March]: 149–151, here p. 150. I am grateful to the organizers of the Moritz Steinschneider Centennial Confer- ence in Berlin 2007 for the opportunity to present and discuss this paper. Especially I would like to thank Prof. Gad Freudenthal for his support and patience as editor of this volume. 2 Ibid., p. 151. 110 arndt engelhardt not participated even in the great venture of the Jewish Encyclopedia, published in the early years of the 20th century.3 Weil reports Stein- schneider’s view that scientiﬁc work had to be the “fruit of lonely, individual investigation,” wherefore “collecting data in encyclopedias and compendia” could only be “the product of specialist research over many decades.”4 These late-life observations attributed to Steinschneider by his pupils stand in contrast to his early work: He collaborated with others on a number of general encyclopedias, one of which was dedicated speciﬁ- cally to the goal of popularizing science, and was also involved in the project of a decidedly Jewish encyclopedia.5 Also a large number of his scholarly publications followed the goal of being “encyclopedic” in the sense of comprehensive. For example, the monumental work Die hebraeischen Uebersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher of 1893 deals with aspects of the transfer of knowledge by Jews.6 Here he composed his “great encyclopedic presentations of education in its totality, developed during his extended work of cataloging in Europe’s libraries.”7 He described and systematized these works, noted the sources mentioned by the authors and analyzed the inter- textual relations. He explained his motivation for this by pointing to his experience that there was a serious “lack of sources, more than a mere gap” during work, from 1844 onward, on the article “Jewish Literature” for the Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, edited by Johann Samuel Ersch (1766–1828) and Johann Gottfried Gruber (1774–1851).8

3 Gotthold Weil, “Moritz Steinschneider [Obituary],” Jüdische Rundschau 12 (1907), no. 6 [8 February]: 53–55, here p. 54f. The article refers to the ﬁrst modern Jewish encyclopedia: The Jewish Encyclopedia. A Descriptive Record of the History, Religion, Literature, and Customs of the Jewish People from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, ed. Isidore Singer et al., 12 vols. (New York and London: Funk & Wagnalls, 1901–1906), now accessible online: http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/ (accessed 15 Jan. 2010). 4 G. Weil, “Moritz Steinschneider,” p. 55. 5 On the development of modern Jewish encyclopedias, see Shimeon Brisman, A History and Guide to Judaic Encyclopedias and Lexicons (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1987). 6 Moritz Steinschneider, HÜ. An English translation of the section on encyclopedias is: Charles Manekin, “Steinschneider on the Medieval Hebrew Encyclopedias. An Annotated Translation from ‘Die hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters,’” in The Medieval Hebrew Encyclopedias of Science and Philosophy, ed. Steven Harvey (Dor- drecht, Boston, London: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2000), pp. 465–519. 7 Steinschneider, HÜ, “Allgemeines,” §1, p. 1. 8 Johann Samuel Ersch and Johann Gottfried Gruber, eds., Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste in alphabetischer Folge von genannten Schriftstellern bearbeitet (Leipzig, 1818–1889). The encyclopedia was published incomplete, in 167 “parts” (vols.), and moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 111

Moritz Steinschneider and the Wissenschaft des Judentums

At the beginning of the 19th century, the Wissenschaft des Judentums sought to lay the foundations of a new manifesto of scholarship: It aimed to establish the history and culture of the Jews as a distinctive and independent field of academic inquiry, paralleling developments and tendencies in other fields of learned inquiry of the time. In his first programmatic writings, Leopold Zunz (1794–1886) attempted to draft a blueprint for the curriculum and structures of this newly emerging discipline. And building on this foundation, Jewish scholars in the course of the 19th century, mainly in Central Europe, continued this project.9 In this context, textbooks and encyclopedias came to play a special role as media that could provide students, teachers, and the interested lay public with concise summaries of the results of this research, and function as a stimulus for further scholarly inquiry. So it is not surprising that the genre of “encyclopedia” in its various forms repeatedly attracted the interest of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. In the general development of the sciences in the West at that time, encyclopedias functioned as the foundation stones for emergent and established disciplines.10 Looking from today’s perspective, we can distinguish two structural conceptions in the general scholarly understanding of the notion of “encyclopedia.”

with a number of changing editors. It originally appeared in the Leipzig publishing house of Johann Friedrich Gleditsch and then was transferred, after continuing financial difficulties, to F.A. Brockhaus in 1831. Different editors prepared the three sections of “Ersch and Gruber” (A-G, H-Ligatur, O-Phyxius), of which only the first section, with 99 volumes and index, was published in full. This monumental undertaking, if it had been completed as projected, would have encompassed 295 volumes, each with some 400 two-column quarto pages. The encyclopedia was reprinted several times, put on microfiche, and has recently been made available online through the Digitalization Center, Lower Saxony State and University Library Göttingen: http:// www-gdz.sub.uni-goettingen.de/cgi-bin/digbib.cgi?PPN345284054 (accessed 15 Jan. 2010). For an overview on the context of this encyclopedia, see Bettina Rüdiger, “Der ‘Ersch/Gruber.’ Konzeption, Drucklegung und Wirkungsgeschichte der ‘Allgemeinen Enzyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste,’” Leipziger Jahrbuch zur Buchgeschichte 14 (2005): 11–78. 9 On Wissenschaft des Judentums, see the overview in Michael Brenner, Propheten des Vergangenen. Jüdische Geschichtsschreibung im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Munich: C.H. Beck, 2006). 10 On the concept of “encyclopedia” generally, see Ulrich Dierse, Enzyklopädie. Zur Geschichte eines philosophischen und wissenschaftstheoretischen Begriffs (Bonn: Bouvier Verlag Herbert Grundmann, 1977). 112 arndt engelhardt

According to a first perspective, encyclopedias are programmatic texts and surveys of fields, seeking systematically to define the content of a discipline. Such works were often the result of university lectures. One prime example are Friedrich August Wolf ’s (1759–1824) famous lectures on what he called the “Encyclopedia of Philology.”11 Beginning in 1785 in Halle, these lectures sought over a number of years to free the study of classical philology from its close ties with theology and define it as an independent field of inquiry in its own right.12 Within the Wissenschaft des Judentums similar endeavors were, for example, Leopold Zunz’s programmatic study Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur (1818)13 or the inaugural essay by Immanuel Wolf (1799–1847) “Ueber den Begriff einer Wissenschaft des Judenthums” in the first issue of the Zeitschrift für die Wissenschaft des Judenthums in 1822.14 Here systems of a “science of Judaism” were blueprinted, concepts were defined, future research projects and focal areas sketched. At the same time, an attempt was made to link the “science of Judaism” with the relevant general disciplines, most importantly in this case with philology as the contemporary paradigmatic science (“Leitwissenschaft”) of the time.15 A second view of encyclopedias at the beginning of the 19th century corresponds roughly to today’s notion of an encyclopedia, or what is traditionally termed in German a “Lexikon.” This conception is

11 Friedrich August Wolf, “Darstellung der Alterthums-Wissenschaft [nach Begriff, Umfang, Zweck und Werth],” Museum der Alterthums-Wissenschaft 1 (1807): 1–145. On this, idem, “Fragmente zur Einleitung in die Enzyklopädie der Altertumswissen- schaft,” ed. Reinhard Markner, in Friedrich August Wolf. Studien, Dokumente, Bibliographie, eds. R. Markner and Giuseppe Veltri (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1999), pp. 48–75. See August Boeckh, Encyklopädie und Methodologie der philologischen Wissenschaften, ed. Ernst Bratuscheck, 2nd ed. prepared by Rudolf Klussmann (Leipzig: B.G. Teubner, 1886). 12 On the relationship between F.A. Wolf and Leopold Zunz, see the essays by Anthony Grafton, “Juden und Griechen bei Friedrich August Wolf,” pp. 9–31, and Giuseppe Veltri, “Altertumswissenschaft und Wissenschaft des Judentums. Leopold Zunz und seine Lehrer F.A. Wolf und A. Böckh,” pp. 32–47 in Friedrich August Wolf, eds. Markner and Veltri. 13 Reprinted in his Gesammelte Schriften, ed. “Curatorium der Zunzstiftung,” 3 vols. (Berlin: Louis Gerschel Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1875/76), vol. 1, pp. 1–21. 14 Zeitschrift für die Wissenschaft des Judenthums, ed. Leopold Zunz and the Verein für Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden (Berlin: Commission in der Schlesingerschen Buch- und Musik-Handlung, 1822), pp. 1–25. Immanuel Wolf used the name Wohl- will after 1822 and worked as a teacher at the Israelitische Freischule in Hamburg and the Jacobson-Schule in Seesen. 15 For the concepts and scope of 19th-century philology, see Hellmut Flashar, Karl- fried Gründer and Axel Horstmann, eds., Philologie und Hermeneutik im 19. Jahrhun- dert. Zur Geschichte und Methodologie der Geisteswissenschaften (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1979). moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 113 reflected in the various contemporary encyclopedias, universal lexica, conversation lexica and newspaper lexica. They sought to present the “knowledge” of the time in alphabetically arranged articles or entries, often guided by strict pragmatic criteria.16 The present article will explore how these two main currents in encyclopedic production found expression in the newly emergent field of Jewish history and culture in Central Europe, especially during the first half of the 19th century. For the sake of clarity, these two currents or modes in encyclopedic discourse and practice will be termed programmatic and pragmatic. In 1816, Leopold Zunz delivered a lecture before members of the “Science Circle,” the predecessor of the later “Verein für Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden” (Association for the Culture and Science of Judaism). It was entitled: “On the Dignity of a Conversation Lexicon” (Von der Würde eines Konversationslexikons). Unfortunately, the text has not been preserved, so we are ignorant of his lecture’s precise contents. In it Zunz apparently explored in critical terms the “German” model of the popular encyclopedias of the day.17 Zunz’s abiding predilection for alphabetization as a structural feature comes to the fore in his famous Buch Zunz. Right at the beginning, in an ironic self-portrait skeptical of all metaphysics, Zunz arranged his reflections in alphabetical order, a, b, c: Here he commented, for example, on what and where he had never been, who would never ever read his books, and what advice for his suggestions he had rejected.18 It seems characteristic of the Zeitgeist

16 On alphabetizing knowledge in the encyclopedias, see Henri Meschonnic, Des mots et des mondes. Dictionnaires, encyclopédies, grammaires, nomenclatures (Paris: Hatier, 1991); Andreas B. Kilcher, mathesis und poesis. Die Enzyklopädik der Literatur 1600–2000 (Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 2003); and Marc W[ilhelm] Küster, Geordnetes Weltbild. Die Tradition des alphabetischen Sortierens von der Keilschrift bis zur EDV. Eine Kulturgeschichte (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 2006). 17 Sinai (Siegfried) Ucko, “Geistesgeschichtliche Grundlagen der Wissenschaft des Judentums (Motive des Kulturvereins vom Jahre 1819),” in Wissenschaft des Judentums im deutschen Sprachraum. Ein Querschnitt, ed. Kurt Wilhelm (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1967), pp. 315–352, here p. 317: “Zunz limited himself to the following topics: ‘How to make books: a guide,’ ‘In praise of money,’ ‘Reflections on the dignity of an encyclopedia; a sermon on two texts.’ (the latter perhaps a polemic against an encyclopedia that dealt also with Jewish topics?).” On Leopold Zunz, see Céline Trautmann-Waller, Philologie allemande et tradition juive. Le parcours intellectuel de Leopold Zunz (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1998); Luitpold Wallach, Liberty and Letters. The Thoughts of Leopold Zunz (London: East and West Library, 1959). 18 Das Buch Zunz. Künftigen ehrlichen Leuten gewidmet. Eine Probe, ed. Fritz Bamberger, ([Berlin]: [Soncino Gesellschaft], 1931), pp. 9–11. 114 arndt engelhardt that a large number of alphabetically structured reference works were published in early 19th-century Western Europe. This brings us to Moritz Steinschneider, who belongs to the second generation of scholars of the Wissenschaft des Judentums and, as Michael A. Meyer has recently noted, is “[t]he disengaged scholar par excellence.”19 Steinschneider was involved in several encyclopedias of his time (both Jewish and general)—programmatic encyclopedias that sought to lay the foundation for the Wissenschaft des Judentums through encyclopedias. I will look into Steinschneider’s interest and active participation in these, and also attend to his criticism of contemporary pragmatic encyclopedias. My basic thesis is that Steinschneider was pursuing his work, along with his strong interest in the form and concept of the encyclopedia, at the very point in time that marked the transition from polyhistory, characteristic of the early modern conceptions of science, toward the modern sciences, divided into separate disciplines.20 In this context, the Wissenschaft des Judentums linked up primarily with philology as its prime paradigm. Perhaps Steinschneider’s intermediary position in the field of 19th-century Jewish studies explains in part the continuing peculiar tension within his work between critique and fascination. And possibly, it was this position at a point of transition which also shaped Steinschneider’s interest in forms of encyclopedic writing and impacted on his own characteristically condensed scientific style.21

The Draft Plan for an Encyclopedia of Judaism

In 1983 Ismar Schorsch pointed out the great importance of the encyclopedia project which the publisher B.L. Monasch of Krotoschin

19 Michael A. Meyer, “Two Persistent Tensions within Wissenschaft des Juden- tums,” Modern Judaism 24 (2004), no. 2 (May): 105–119, here p. 107. 20 Helmut Zedelmaier, “‘Von den Wundermännern des Gedächtnisses.’ Begriffs- geschichtliche Anmerkungen zu ‘Polyhistor’ und ‘Polyhistorie,’” in Die Enzyklopädie im Wandel vom Hochmittelalter bis zur Frühen Neuzeit, ed. Christel Meier (Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 2002), pp. 421–450. 21 On M. Steinschneider, see Alexander Marx, “Moritz Steinschneider,” in idem, Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1947), pp. 112–184, 294–296; Salo W. Baron, “Moritz Steinschneider’s Contributions to Jewish Historiography,” in idem, History and Jewish Historians. Essays and Addresses, eds. Arthur Hertzberg and Leon A. Feldman (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1964), pp. 276–321, 449–470. moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 115

(Posen) had suggested to David Cassel (1818–1893) in the mid-1840s. Cassel in turn passed this project on to Steinschneider.22 More information on this episode can be gleaned from Steinschneider’s correspondence, kept at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in New York.23 First, we can note the original orientation of the program and its lucid reflection on the special conditions of Jewish history and culture, found in one of Cassel’s first letters to Steinschneider: Judaism comes into contact with all sciences, all regions, all nations, sometimes more closely, at times at a greater distance. And as soon as one leaves the actual fields of Jewish science proper, a person is taken aback by the unlimited expanse of the territory still to be traversed. Take, for example, Jewish history. It is easy to divide up the actual history of the Hebrews and Jews down to the Roman exile by linking it up with persons and places that occur within it. Because these persons and localities are totally Jewish. But it is a different story with later Jewish history. There are Jews in all countries, under all rulers. So you have articles “Rome” ( Jews in), Germany, France, etc. Yet again in these countries there are individual cities etc. that have a special importance in Jewish history, and “Worms,” “Speyer,” “Berlin” etc. must also have separate articles. If you don’t wish to list all the cities, it must be left up to the judgment of a spec[ialized] worker [in the field] which countries, cities and persons he wishes to include.24

22 Ismar Schorsch, “The Emergence of Historical Consciousness in Modern Juda- ism,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 28 (1983): 413–437. Reprinted in idem, From Text to Context. The Turn to History in Modern Judaism (Hanover and London: Brandeis Univer- sity Press, 1994), pp. 177–204, here esp. pp. 194f. 23 On the history of the preservation of the Steinschneider correspondence, see Alexander Marx, “Zunz’s Letters to Steinschneider,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 5 (1934): 95–153 [1–59], with references to the encyclopedic project, here p. 103 [9] and Appendix; and idem, “Steinschneideriana II,” in Salo W. Baron and A. Marx, eds., Jewish Studies in Memory of George A. Kohut 1874–1933 (New York: The Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1935), pp. 492–527. 24 “Das Judenthum trifft mit allen Wissenschaften, mit allen Völkern, mit allen Gegenden, in eine bald nähere, bald weitere Berührung, und sobald man aus den eigentlichen Gebieten jüdischer Wissenschaft herausgetreten ist, wird man durch die unbegrenzte Ausdehnung dessen, was weiter zu durchwandern ist, erschreckt, z. B. jüdische Geschichte. Leicht ist es die eigentl[iche] Geschichte der Hebräer und der Juden bis zum Römischen Exil so zu zerfällen, dass man die in derselben vorkommenden Momente an Personen und Ortschaften knüpft; denn diese Personen und Ortsch[aften] sind ganz jüdisch. Anders aber wird es mit der späteren jüdischen Geschichte. Es gibt Juden in allen Ländern, unter allen Regenten. Nun hat man Artikel ‘Rom’ ( Juden in), Deutschland, Frankreich u.s.w.; aber wieder in diesen Län- dern sind einzelne Städte u.s.w. die wieder besondere Wichtigkeit in der jüd[ischen] Gesch[ichte] haben und ‘Worms’, ‘Speier’, ‘Berlin’, u.s.w. müssen ebenfalls besondere Artikel bilden; will man dabei nicht alle Städte aufführen, so muss es dem Urteile des spez[iellen] Arbeiters überlassen bleiben, welche Länder, Städte, Personen, er 116 arndt engelhardt

Here Cassel employed an encyclopedic model in order to adequately present the Diasporic existence of the Jewish people, taking into account the contemporary growth of knowledge. He envisioned a collabora- tive work by a group of scholars who would collect all the available information. Such a model would situate Jewish history and culture in space and place, and describe its nexus with other cultural developments. The latter aspect was to become a central focus of Stein- schneider’s work. A second and decisive point lay in the conceptual premises on which the project was based. Contemporary Wissenschaft des Judentums consisted to a large extent of the reception of and productive confronta- tion with developments in general contemporary scholarship. The fact that Steinschneider and Cassel derived their conceptions of the Real- Encyklopädie des Judenthums from the general encyclopedias of the time is a further instance of that general tendency. However, the two friends were aware that a certain amount of adaptation would be required. As Cassel noted: “I can’t get the little work by Pierer on encyclopedics.[25] If you would have it sent to me (via the Leipzig fair), you would be doing me a great favor, although naturally the guidelines drawn up for general encyclopedics will have to endure signiﬁcant modiﬁcations in the Jewish encycl[opedias].”26 Ulrike Spree has noted that in 19th-century Germany, especially in the bourgeois milieu, the popularization of knowledge was a major impetus behind all the encyclopedias and so-called conversation lexica then springing up like mushrooms across the publishing landscape. The goal of these works was to popularize contemporary knowledge, packaging it appropriately for “conversation” within the milieu of the rising middle class.27 In Germany, this involved publishers like

aufzunehmen beliebt.” Letter, Cassel to Steinschneider, 13 April 1843, quoted from the transcription by Alexander Marx in the Archives of The Jewish Theological Semi- nary of America, ARC 108 (Steinschneider Archives), Microﬁlm Reel 2, Correspon- dence Benzian-Chwolson, Daniel. Courtesy of the JTSA Library. 25 I use this word to translate the outdated German word “Encyclopädik.” 26 Ibid.: “Das Werkchen von Pierer über Encyclopädik kann ich nicht bekommen, willst du mir es (über Leipziger Messe) zukommen lassen, so wirst du mir einen großen Gefallen erzeigen, obgleich natürlich die für allgemeine Encyclopädik aufgestellten Sätze in den Jüdischen Encycl[opädien] wesentliche Modiﬁcationen erleiden müssen.” 27 Ulrike Spree, Das Streben nach Wissen. Eine vergleichende Gattungsgeschichte der popu- lären Enzyklopädie in Deutschland und Großbritannien im 19. Jahrhundert (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 2000). moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 117

F. A. Brockhaus (1772–1823),28 Joseph Meyer (1796–1856) and his Bib- liographic Institute,29 and an important contemporary rival, Heinrich August Pierer (1794–1850) in Altenburg near Leipzig.30 Concepts such as “useful knowledge,” the description of the practical arts, as anticipated in the portrayals of handicraft artisanship by Denis Diderot (1713–1784) and in certain volumes of the French Encyclopédie published between 1751 and 1780, and the formation of the ideology of bourgeois liberalism were the driving conceptual force behind these projects.31 In the course of the 19th century, the ever more nation- ally oriented encyclopedias developed into institutions of national and religious identification.32 The correspondence of Steinschneider and Cassel referred to the third edition of the Pierer Universal-Lexikon der Gegenwart und Vergangen- heit.33 This work was something totally new in the rapidly expanding field of encyclopedias in 19th-century Germany. The Universal-Lexikon, as a competitor of Brockhaus’ encyclopedias and a model for Meyer’s “conversation lexica,” had developed its own independent program.34 Its aim was to give an overview of “all sciences, arts and trades,” providing “brief scientific instruction, as satisfactorily as possible for those whose

28 See F.A. Brockhaus 1905–2005, ed. Thomas Keiderling (Leipzig and Mannheim: F.A. Brockhaus, 2005). 29 See Johannes Hohlfeld, Das Bibliographische Institut. Festschrift zu seiner Jahrhundertfeier (Leipzig: Bibliographisches Institut, 1926); Heinz Sarkowski, Das Bibliographische Institut. Verlagsgeschichte und Bibliographie 1826–1976 (Mannheim, Vienna, Zürich: Bibliographi- sches Institut, 1976). 30 See Stephan Geibel, Geschichte der Pierer’schen Hofbuchdruckerei in Altenburg, S.-A. Eine anspruchslose Festschrift (Altenburg: Pierer, 1897). For general orientation, still useful is Walther Killy, Grosse Deutsche Lexika und ihre Lexikographen (Munich: K.G. Saur, [1993]). 31 Utz Haltern, “Politische Bildung und bürgerlicher Liberalismus. Zur Rolle des Konversationslexikons in Deutschland,” Historische Zeitschrift 223 (1976): 61–97. 32 Madeleine Herren, “General Knowledge and Civil Society. ‘An Accurate and Popular View of the Present Improved State of Human Knowledge,’” in Allgemein- wissen und Gesellschaft, eds. idem, Paul Michel, and Martin Rüesch (Aachen: Shaker, 2007), pp. 489–512. 33 H[einrich] A[ugust] Pierer, ed., Universal-Lexikon der Gegenwart und Vergangenheit oder neuestes encyclopädisches Wörterbuch der Wissenschaften, Künste und Gewerbe bearbeitet von mehr als 220 Gelehrten, 2nd fully revised ed. (3rd ed.), 34 vols. (Altenburg: H.A. Pierer, 1840–1846 [1847]). 34 See, e.g., the comments in Pierer, ed., Universal-Lexikon der Gegenwart und Vergangen- heit, vol. 1 [A-Amirola], 1840, pp. VII–L [Foreword], esp. pp. XXXIX–XLVII (“Refutation of a number of criticisms directed against the Encyclopedia”), here pp. XL and XLVII. 118 arndt engelhardt own specialist ﬁeld is not the science to which the article belongs, yet thoroughly, and without neglecting the conditions of the time.”35 The major portion of editing the second and later editions of Pierer’s Universal-Lexikon was done by the Altenburg theologian and linguist Julius Löbe (1805–1900) between 1831 and 1873. From 1864 to 1873, Löbe also edited “Pierers Jahrbücher,” which were supplements to the various editions of Pierer’s encyclopedias.36 Contrary to Brockhaus’ Conversationslexikon, which contained a large number of extensive narrative articles, a distinctive feature of Pierer’s was to offer a large number of key words (four times as many) discussed in shorter articles. More- over, the editors of the Universal-Lexikon were of the opinion that the Conversationslexikon treated too many “obvious things, needs of the time and conversation,” and “matters truly scientiﬁc only as a secondary element.” What they criticized in Ersch-Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, by contrast, was that in its numerous volumes it “provided monographs on individual topics, but overlooked other topics which were equally important.”37 The Universal-Lexikon set itself the goal to steer the “correct middle ground:” it would seek to “clearly present the topic, with adequate explanation,” while avoiding lengthier discussions of “the most minute details.”38 Pierer’s encyclopedia thus aimed to distinguish itself by dint of the cachet of “genuine scholarship,” giving its readers the possibility to better educate and inform themselves by providing “comprehensive literature” in the

35 Ibid., p. VII. Italics appear in the original in bold; I did not reproduce words with spacing between the individual letters for emphasis. 36 On the biography of August Julius Löbe, see Adalbert Brauer, “Löbe, August Julius,” in Neue Deutsche Biographie, ed. Historische Kommission der Bayerischen Akade- mie der Wissenschaft, vol. 15 [Locherer-Maltza(h)n] (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1987), pp. 19–20. 37 “Entweder hat man nämlich, wie im Zedler oder in der Ersch-Gruberschen Encyklopädie, ein bändereiches Werk und darin Monographien einzelner Gegen- stände geliefert, darüber aber andre, eben so wichtige Dinge übersehen, oder man hat, wie im Conversations-Lexikon, mehr naheliegende Gegenstände, Bedürfnisse der Zeit und Conversation mit Vorliebe aufgenommen und das eigentlich Wissenschaft- liche nur nebenbei behandelt, und so den Inbegriff einer Encyklopädie nur theilweise erfüllt; oder man hat, wie bei dem Liechtenstein-Schiffnerschen Sachwörterbuche oder bei dem in der Belgischen Buchhandlung erschienenen deutschen Universal- Conversationslexikon mehr Worterklärungen gegeben, ohne in das Sachliche tiefer einzudringen.” Pierer, ed., Universal-Lexikon der Gegenwart und Vergangenheit, vol. 1 [A-Amirola], 1840, p. XXVII. 38 Ibid.: “Unser Universal-Lexikon soll nun die richtige Mittelstraße von dem allen halten, es soll die behandelten Gegenstände durch genügende Erklärung zur Anschau- ung bringen, dagegen sie nicht bis zum Minutissimum verfolgen [. . .].” moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 119 articles. The proclaimed goal was nothing less than to create the “true encyclopedia.”39 In the Universal-Lexikon, “knowledge” was defined as the sum of the information and knowledge “which are of general human interest;” on this foundation a system of “theorems of recognized or believed truths” was to be built. In this theory of knowledge, emphasis was placed on the “form of treatment:” “Just as the scientific material is only an aggregate of knowledge and information without the form, through the form it becomes the edifice of learning (Lehrgebäude), and such an edifice, structured correctly in keeping with the laws of logic, is termed a system.” Thus, from any given “science,” one must demand “systematization” and “systematic collection.”40 In the beginning of the 1840s, Steinschneider was probably fascinated in particular by the comprehensive, well-wrought program and the high quality of Pierer’s Universal-Lexikon, despite the fact that its articles contained a number of fairly anti-Semitic prejudices.41 So it would appear that Steinschneider’s reference to the program of Pierer’s Universal-Lexikon stemmed from his own involvement in its second edition and his formative experiences working on a general encyclopedia. He wrote and revised several articles in the field of Arabic Studies for this encyclopedia, for instance, articles on Arabic history and “Ara- bic literature,” “Arabic language,” the “Korân,” and “Mohammedan religion.”42 However, later on he had second thoughts on this, because

39 Ibid., p. XXVIII: “[Das Universal-Lexicon soll] sich über die eigentliche Gelehrsam- keit verbreiten und durch eine reichhaltige Literatur Gelegenheit geben, sich weiter zu unterrichten, es soll also eine wahre Encyklopädie in der oben aufgestellten Weise sein.” 40 Julius Löbe, “Wissenschaft,” in Pierer, ed., Universal-Lexikon, vol. 34 [Westernhäub- chen-Zzubin und Nachtrag], 1847, pp. 140–143, here p. 140f.: “Wissen im engsten Sinne bezieht sich auf solche Kenntnisse, welche nicht allein ein einzeln persönliches, sondern ein allgemein menschliches Interesse haben, mag es näher od[er] ferner liegen; so die W[issenschaft] als Inbegriff von Lehrsätzen erkannter od[er] geglaubter Wahrheiten. [. . .] So wie ohne die Form der wissenschaftliche Stoff nur ein Aggregat von Kenntnissen ist, so wird er durch die Form zum wissenschaftlichen Gebäude (Lehrgebäude), u[nd] ein solches Gebäude, regelrichtig u[nd] den Gesetzen der Logik gemäß aufgeführt, heißt ein System, daher Systematisirung od[er] systemat[ische] Zusammenstellung von einer W[issenschaft] gefordert wird.” 41 See, e.g., “Juden,” in Pierer, ed., Universal-Lexikon, vol. 15 [I-Karkor], 1843, pp. 325–329. This article was co-authored by August Julius Löbe, Heinrich August Pierer, [Bernhard] Böttner (“Stadtrichter in Altenburg”), and [Bernhard Dorotheus] Hager (“Hofadvocat und Gerichtsdirektor in Altenburg”). 42 See the listing by George Alexander Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Professor Dr. Moritz Steinschneider,” in Festschrift zum achtzigsten Geburtstage Moritz Steinschneider’s (Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz, 1896), pp. V–XXXIX, here p. XXXIII. 120 arndt engelhardt in his Introduction to Arabische Literatur der Juden, he stated that he had ended his cooperation with the Universal-Lexicon because of its dilet- tantish editing.43 The program for the Jewish Real-Encyklopädie was conceived as a programmatic work presented as an alphabetically ordered encyclopedia. A first announcement of the project appeared on 16 May 1843 in the Literaturblatt des Orients, an invitation by the publisher B.L. Monasch in Krotoschin to subscribe to an Allgemeine Real-Encyklopädie des Judenthums, with the subtitle Jüdisches Conversations-Lexicon.44 The project was associated with critiques of the contemporary “conversation lexica,” which allegedly “only repeated what was largely already recognized to be untrue” or “tended to deal but little with Judaism.”45 The defective information on Jews in general works was emphasized against the backdrop of the social and political situation of the Jews; in addition, “such ignorance of Judaism” had a “negative influence on the external position of the Jews, and on scholarship as a whole in its connection with Jewish knowledge.”46 The new Real-Encyklopädie would correct this situation. The observation that Jewish culture and history were inappropri- ately presented in the general European encyclopedias of the 18th and 19th century was a contemporary topos that has been confirmed in recent scholarly analyses.47 Studies, such as those by Barbara Suchy and

43 M. Steinschneider, Arab.Lit. (Frankfurt a.M.: J. Kauffmann, 1902), pp. XI–LI, “Introduction,” here XLVII: “[. . .] As part of the co-worker team of Pierer’s Uni- versallexicon, I found it necessary to look more closely at the literature of the Arabs; but the pitiless (because ignorant) interventions of the editors forced me to [beat] a quick retreat.” 44 On the history of Monasch’s printing house, see Louis Lewin, “Die Gründung der Krotoschiner Buchdruckerei im Jahre 1833,” Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissen- schaft des Judentums 77, N.F. 41 (1933): 464–467; Peter Fraenkel, “The Memoirs of B.L. Monasch of Krotoschin,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 24 (1979): 195–223. 45 Literaturblatt des Orients (1843), no. 20, cols. 319f., here col. 319 [reprinted ibid., no. 22 (30 May), cols. 351f. and no. 29 (18 July), cols. 463f.]. On 19th-century Jewish scholarly periodicals, see the overview in Barbara Suchy, “Die jüdischen wissenschaftlichen Zeitschriften in Deutschland von den Anfängen bis zum Ersten Weltkrieg,” in Wissenschaft des Judentums. Anfänge der Judaistik in Europa, ed. Julius Carlebach (Darm- stadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1992), pp. 180–198. 46 Literaturblatt des Orients (1843), no. 20 [16 May], col. 320. 47 A new and illuminating ﬁeld of inquiry is the transfer of knowledge from Europe in translations and adaptations of encyclopedias, see e.g. Kirsten Belgum, “Trans- lated Knowledge in the Early Nineteenth Century. Jews and Judaism in Brockhaus’ ‘Conversations-Lexikon’ and the ‘Encyclopaedia Americana’,” Jahrbuch des Simon- Dubnow-Instituts/Simon Dubnow Institute Yearbook 9 (2010): 303–322. moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 121

Georges-Elia Sarfati, show that general encyclopedias indeed tended to popularize anti-Judaic and later anti-Semitic prejudices, drawing on purportedly authoritative works of authors who were mostly Christians or converted Jews.48 And even when, toward the end of the 18th century, general encyclopedias increasingly dealt with the legal and social situation of the Jews, the emphasis was largely on the question whether and how the Jews—mostly perceived as an alien religious and cultural minority—could be integrated into the civil society, the bürgerliche Gesellschaft then crystallizing. Only a few timid beginnings of a more tolerant attitude toward Judaism and other non-Christian religions were perceivable.49 Patently anti-Judaic concoctions still continued to appear, such as Rudolph Giehrl’s Jüdisches Conversationslexikon für Christen aus allen Ständen, published in 1829, an alleged “Jewish encyclopedia” for “Christians from all social classes.”50 The detailed plan for the Real-Encyklopädie appeared as “Briefe über eine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaft des Judentums” in three successive issues of the Leipzig journal Literaturblatt des Orients, beginning on 25 July 1843. In it Steinschneider sketched a precise definition of what the future Real-Encyklopädie des Judenthums would have to contain under the rubrics of religion, culture, literature, politics and language. For him the most difficult and curious sphere of the encyclopedia was the history of the Jews in the Diaspora, “their dispersal throughout the world, their specific legal and social circumstances within the midst of other nations” and its proper presentation. He noted that the unique character of Jewish historical experience made it necessary to deviate from the usual “natural subdivision of universal history into the history of states,” modifying it so as to take into account “the shaping of Jewish conditions through special circumstances.” Similarly, the traditional temporal divisions of the history of states did not match those

48 Barbara Suchy, Lexikographie und Juden im 18. Jahrhundert. Die Darstellung von Juden und Judentum in den englischen, französischen und deutschen Lexika und Enzyklopädien im Zeitalter der Aufklärung (Cologne and Vienna: Böhlau, 1979); Georges-Elia Sarfati, Discours ordi- naires et identités juives. La représentation des Juifs et du Judaïsme dans les dictionnaires et les ency- clopédies de langue française (du Moyen Age au XXe siècle) (Paris: Berg International, 1999). 49 This is pointed out by Willi Goetschel, Catriona MacLeod and Emery Snyder, “The ‘Deutsche Encyclopädie,’” in Notable Encyclopedias of the late 18th Century. Eleven Successors of the “Encyclopédie,” ed. Frank A. Kafker (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 1994), pp. 257–333, esp. pp. 301–304, and Edward Breuer, “The ‘Deutsche Encyclopädie’ and the Jews,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 44 (1999): 23–38. 50 Rudolph Giehrl, Jüdisches Conversationslexikon für Christen aus allen Ständen. Zur Unter- haltung und Belehrung (Nürnberg: Friedrich Campe, 1829). 122 arndt engelhardt of Jewish history.51 The plan spelled out precise guidelines for the composition of individual articles and the structure of the encyclopedia and described the terms for collaboration between the publisher and the authors. Steinschneider’s programmatic sketch sought to define the Wissen- schaft des Judentums in encyclopedic terms. Since Immanuel Wolf ’s article “Ueber den Begriff der Wissenschaft des Judenthums,” no publication had tried to lay out in broad strokes the scope and scientific methods of this discipline. Therefore, the planned work had first to posit “an encyclopedic overview or introduction to this science,” offering its own conception of what it aimed to be. Steinschneider’s proposed definition of the Wissenschaft des Judentums was path-breaking and comprehensive, taking up previous reflections by his friend and associate Cassel: The Science of Judaism encompasses the knowledge of the past and the present of Jewish religion and the Jewish people. To some extent it is the history of Judaism in the broadest sense, up to the present. The relationship between religion and national culture (nationality) provides the correct vantage point for the entire field of Judaism. The religious element in Judaism is its innermost kernel, the omnipresent driving force, and everything has to be apprehended in direct or indirect relation to it. It first created a national life and state (theocracy), and, after its demise, it gave rise to a phenomenon that has been little understood in its peculiarity, and which has often been misinterpreted, not seldom intentionally: the so-called Jewish nationality disconnected from the Jewish state. Of especial importance for correctly understanding it are: the direct genealogy, the special legal system, the factual cessation of religious customs [. . .]; these are associated with a growing theoretically informed representation of what de facto had ceased to exist, where the prevailing ideas about Israel’s future (messianic teachings) play a role.52

51 M. Steinschneider, “Briefe über eine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaft des Judenthums,” Literaturblatt des Orients (1843), no. 30 (25 July), cols. 465–471; no. 31 (1 Aug.), cols. 491–494; no. 32 (8 Aug.), cols. 500–504, here col. 502. 52 Ibid., cols. 467f.: “Die Wissenschaft des Judenthums faßt die Kenntniß der Ver- gangenheit und Gegenwart der jüdischen Religion und des jüdischen Volkes. Sie ist gewissermaaßen die Geschichte des Judenthums im weitesten Sinne, bis auf die Gegenwart. Das Verhältnis von Religion und Volksthum (Nationalität) giebt den richti- gen Gesichtspunkt für das ganze Gebiet des Judenthums ab. Das religiöse Moment im Judenthum ist sein innerster Keim, der überall wirkende Trieb, zu dem Alles in unmittelbarer oder mittelbarer Beziehung zu fassen ist. Es hat zuerst ein religiöses National- und Staatsleben (Theokratie) geschaffen, und nach dessen Untergange eine Erscheinung hervorgerufen, die in ihrer Sonderbarkeit wenig begriffen, vielfach und nicht selten mit Absicht gemisdeutet worden: die sogenannte jüdische Nationalität außerhalb moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 123

Concomitantly, Steinschneider and Cassel also presented for the first time an encyclopedic overview of the Wissenschaft des Judentums in book form.53 The series of “Briefe über eine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaft des Judentums” was abruptly halted after three installments only. This was due primarily to the footnotes which the editor, Julius Fürst (1805– 1873), added to the text and in which he derisively and insultingly commented on the project’s scientific character (this episode would poison his relationship with Steinschneider for years to come).54 The long polemic exchange shows how vehemently and seriously the character and goals of the Wissenschaft des Judentums were discussed at this time. Fürst criticized in particular that the discipline was defined much too broadly. He also attacked and rejected Steinschneider’s concept of a “Jewish nationality.” He noted: “[ P]olitically, the correct conception of Judaism ran up against the most dangerous cliff precisely in this notion of a Jewish nationality devoid of (not only external to) a Jewish State.” He stressed that the part of the Wissenschaft des Judentums where religious and national elements intermingle was difficult to demarcate.55 In addition to these substantial differences of opinion, Steinschneider and Cassel were offended and chagrined by Fürst’s self-righteous and arrogant tone. These feelings still echoed some 30 years later in Stein- schneider’s obituary for Fürst.56 des jüdischen Staates. Für die richtige Auffassung derselben ist von besonderer Wich- tigkeit: die unvermittelte Fortpflanzung, die besondere Gerichtsbarkeit, das faktische Aufhören religiöser Gebräuche [. . .], verbunden mit einer wachsenden theoretischen Durchbildung des faktisch Entschwundenen, wobei die herrschenden Vorstellungen über Israels Zukunft (Messiaslehre) in Betracht kommen.” 53 [D. Cassel and M. Steinschneider], Plan der Real-Encyclopädie des Judenthums. Zunächst für die Mitarbeiter (Krotoschin: B.L. Monasch & Sohn, 1844). 54 See M. Steinschneider, “Briefe über eine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaft des Judenthums,” col. 465, note 1 [by Julius Fürst]: “Die Wichtigkeit des Unterneh- mens an sich veranlaßte die Redaktion, diese Briefe hier mitzuteilen, obgleich die Art und Weise, wie die jüdische Wissenschaft hier aufgefaßt erscheint, ohne kritische und logische Schärfe, ohne wissenschaftlichen und philosophischen Takt, nicht dazu berechtigt. Der Zweck ist auch nur, daß diese Mittheilung zu gründlichen Versuchen anregen möge.” On Julius Fürst see Katharina Vogel, “Der Orientalist Julius Fürst (1805–1873). Wissenschaftler, Publizist und engagierte Bürger,” in Bausteine einer jüdi- schen Geschichte der Universität Leipzig, ed. Stephan Wendehorst for the Simon Dubnow Institute (Leipzig: Leipziger Universitätsverlag, 2006), pp. 41–60. 55 Ibid., col. 468. 56 Steinschneider, “[Miscelle],” HB 13 (1873), no. 78 [Nov.–Dec.]: 140: “Fürst deserves requisite praise for introducing the literary industry into Jewish circles. In the art of utilizing the material of others for the purpose of one’s own fame and advantage, he has left behind only Master C. and a hopeful pupil G. For 12 years, 124 arndt engelhardt

However, Fürst was not as critical of the project of a Jewish encyclopedia as Steinschneider thought; in fact he defended it against criticisms. Thus, shortly after the debate sketched above, a note penned by Fürst appeared in the Orient regarding several letters which he had received.57 Fürst was responding to the complaints voiced by them about a supposed “everlasting and persistent Jewish particularism.” On this occasion he discussed the relationship between Jew- ish and General Studies, using the example of the planned jüdische Real-Encyklopädie, and summing up the objections that reached him as follows: “[ W ]hy do Jews, who desire to be Germans, need a special encyclopedia? Why [describe as] Jewish scholars who collaborate in this project? How does a scholar tout court come to be predicated as a Jew?”58 Fürst was addressing here the relation between the general and the particular in the conception of science, as well as the question why individual scholars should be identified as “Jews.” This issue reflects the transitory period in which Judaism found itself at the time: the idea that Judaism was a religion on a par with other religions was gaining ground, and so the question of the relevance of an individual’s religion to his scholarship was acute. Fürst defended Steinschneider’s plan against the charge of “particularism.” He pointed out that the work planned by Steinschneider “had chosen as its scientific object the description of Judaism as a link in the continuous chain of world history.” He recalled that the planned Real-Encyklopädie was to be concerned not with “Jews” but rather with “Judaism in its defining aspects.” The reference to the “scientific character” was to distinguish a new kind of discipline that would draw on the paradigm of Classical Studies, specifically classical philology: it followed Hegelian ideas and the ideals of the early Wissenschaft des Judentums. Fürst followed Steinschneider’s suggestion to include in the projected encyclopedia biographical entries on “Jewish artists, inven- tors, etc. as well.” Why should these Jews be singled out? Fürst argued that this was justified inasmuch as Christians “equate the Jew with the artist, and the inventor with his religious faith,” thereby, as he put it, “letting the individual artist, the inventor, etc. pay for the hatred

he encouraged his peers and gave them the opportunity to spit into the well they had drawn water from.” 57 [Anonymous], “[Posen: Verdient eine jüd[ische] Real-Encyklopädie den Vor- wurf eines Partikularismus?],” Der Orient 4 (1843), no. 36 (5 Sept.): 285f. 58 Ibid., p. 285. Italicized words appear in the original with spacing between the letters. moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 125 against Jews.” Therefore, “what our Christian brethren had perpetrated, we wish to repair.”59 Fürst’s argumentation thus also contained an element of apologia. In his eyes, “Jewish collaborators” should produce the encyclopedia because “the encyclopedia is supposed to show how Judaism conceives of its own religion, history and all the other intellectual activity which forms its basis.” Here he defended the description of Judaism from the vantage point of an insider. A description of Judaism by those who construe it “as akin to a mummy being kept alive by artificial means”—the oblique reference is of course to Protestant or converted scholars—would yield very different results. However, the encyclopedia should provide “a scientific framework for Judaism as it is perceived by its practitioners.”60 This is by no means a particularistic project: to describe as particularistic an encyclopedia having Judaism as its scientific object is “just as ridiculous as the idea of describing as particularistic a medical encyclopedia.”61 In terms of its social and cultural importance he considered the large-scale Jewish encyclopedia to be comparable to other initiatives for promoting the “civic improvement” (bürgerliche Verbesserung) of the Jews in the 19th century: “May the project now find scientific support from our scholars, and obtain financial support from the wealthy! A hospital for the sick, synagogues for the [practicing] Jews and an encyclopedia for the Wissenschaft des Judenthums!”62 Alongside welfare and theological academies, the encyclopedia was to become a supporting pillar for the Wissenschaft des Judentums. Nothing came out of Steinschneider’s and Cassel’s plan: because the prospective publisher, B.L. Monasch & Sohn, encountered economic difficulties, work on the planned Real-Encyklopädie had to be halted early in 1846. Yet, the intellectual energies invested in it and in the discussions over its character were to bear fruit later.

Steinschneider’s Collaboration on the Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste

Another, more scholarly-scientiﬁc concept underpinned the Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste of the Halle-based professors

59 Ibid. 60 Ibid., p. 286. 61 Ibid., p. 285f. 62 Ibid., p. 286. 126 arndt engelhardt

Johann Samuel Ersch and Johann Gottfried Gruber: here the stress was once more put on presenting the total system of science in a remodulated form, in the best tradition of early modern polyhistory.63 The monumentality of this encyclopedia is not of immediate interest here, but it was voluminous indeed: it encompassed almost 80,000 pages, with its article on “Greece” alone ﬁlling eight volumes comprising 3,668 pages (it was later also published separately). In our context, it is important to note that some of the articles projected for the Real-Encyklopädie des Judenthums probably provided the groundwork for the large monographic works which were ﬁnally published in Ersch and Gruber’s super-encyclopedia: one article by Selig (Paulus) Cassel (1821–1892) on Jewish history, and one by Steinschneider and Cassel on Jewish literature.64 Additionally, in the 1850s Steinschneider wrote for Ersch and Gruber a number of biographical entries on individual Jewish scholars.65 It is certain that the Jewish authors of the second generation of the Wissenschaft des Judentums were invited to join the project primarily because of their acquaintance with the publisher and the involvement of the Jena theologian and Orientalist Andreas Gottlieb Hoffmann (1796–1864), the junior publisher of the second section. In addition, one can also note in this Enlightenment project a general interest in “non-Protestant” theology. Although conceived principally as a “teutsche Encyclopädie” that would concisely sum up all knowledge available at the beginning of the 19th century and have no reason “to blush in the presence of any of its foreign sisters,”66 it stood clearly and sol- idly in the tradition of the Enlightenment. The two editors deemed it

63 A classic survey on encyclopedias is Robert Collison, Encyclopaedias. Their History Throughout the Ages. A Bibliographical Guide with extensive Historical Notes to the General Ency- clopaedias issued throughout the World from 350 B.C. to the Present Day (New York and Lon- don: Hafner, 1964); see also Hugo Wetscherek, ed., Bibliotheca lexicorum. Kommentiertes Verzeichnis der Sammlung Otmar Seemann. Eine Bibliographie der enzyklopädischen Literatur von den Anfängen bis zur Gegenwart, unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der im deutschen Sprachraum ab dem Jahr 1500 gedruckten Werke, ed. Martin Peche (Vienna: Inlibris, 2001). The research project “Allgemeinwissen und Gesellschaft” on the social significance of encyclopedias maintains a regularly updated bibliography online: http://www.enzyklopaedie. ch/ (accessed 15 January 2010). 64 Selig Cassel, “Juden (Geschichte),” in Allgemeine Encyklopädie, eds. Ersch and Gru- ber, Section 2, Part 27 [ Juden-Jüdische Literatur], 1850, pp. 1–238. 65 See for this the first and only volume of the unfinished collected works, M. Stein- schneider, Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 1: “Gelehrten-Geschichte,” eds. Heinrich Malter and Alexander Marx (Berlin: M. Poppelauer, 1925). 66 J.S. Ersch, “Vorbericht,” in Allgemeine Encyklopädie, eds. Ersch and Gruber, Sec- tion 1, Part 1 [A-Aëtius], 1818, pp. V–XV, here p. XII. moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 127 especially important to stress that the encyclopedia was presented in a supra-religious form, i.e., not tied to any particular religious denomi- nation or Church. For that reason, they explicitly referred to their efforts to find “contributors among the Catholic scholars [. . .] in order to anticipate and forestall complaints about a partisan treatment of the Catholic system of theology.”67 Here they treated Catholics mainly as a religious minority, while in the programmatic introduction to the encyclopedia preceding the second part they discussed the Jews from an Enlightenment perspective: And since the Eternal One created Christians and Jews, Turks and Hea- thens, and all parties and sects among them as human beings, how can a State then dare to make human rights depend on a specific religion, anticipating and interfering with the office of Judge, which the Eternal and Everlasting One has reserved for himself?68 Already in the prospectus, the two editors had sought to show their tolerance by listing a Jew on the roster of future contributors and associates: this was David Fränkel (1779–1865), director of the Franz-Schule in Dessau and editor of the first periodical that targeted a Jewish readership in German, Sulamith. Eine Zeitschrift zur Beförderung der Kultur und Humanität unter der jüdischen Nation. The future focus of his work for the Ersch-Gruber encyclopedia was to be “contributions to the knowledge of Judaism.”69 In the course of the 19th century, the more popular and less strictly scientific encyclopedias would also engage Jewish scholars as contributors and associates. Thus, Zunz worked for the Brockhaus Conversationslexikon, a task later taken over by Cassel.70

67 Ibid., p. X. As a conﬁrmation of this tolerance, the encyclopedia’s ﬁrst volume contained two articles on the “Abendmahl” [Last Supper] from a Protestant and a Roman Catholic perspective, in that order. See the reference in Reinhard Markner, “Johann Gottfried Gruber oder Die Ordnung des Wissens,” in Zwischen Narretei und Weisheit. Biographische Skizzen und Konturen alter Gelehrsamkeit, eds. Gerald Hartung and Wolf Peter Klein (Hildesheim, Zürich, New York: Georg Olms, 1997), pp. 288–318, 356–358, here p. 312. 68 J.G. Gruber, “Ueber encyclopädisches Studium ein Bedürfniß unserer Zeit nebst dem Versuch einer systematischen Encyclopädie der Wissenschaften aus jenem Gesichtspunkt. Als Einleitung zur allgemeinen Encyclopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste,” in Allgemeine Encyklopädie, eds. Ersch and Gruber, Section 1, Part 2 [Äga- Aldus], 1819, pp. I–LII, here p. XXVI. 69 J.S. Ersch and J.G. Gruber, Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste . . . Probe-Heft, nebst dem Plane des Werks, und Verzeichnissen der Mitarbeiter (Leipzig [1817]), Beylage A, p. 2. 70 See the bibliography by Zunz himself published by Ismar Elbogen, “Zum Anden- ken an Leopold Zunz,” Jahrbuch für jüdische Geschichte und Literatur 30 (1937): 131–172, here pp. 146f. 128 arndt engelhardt

How does the earlier planning for the aborted Real-Encyklopädie des Judenthums connect to these developments? We should note that differences arose between Steinschneider and Cassel already during the stage of conceptualization and especially in the practical work on their project. In a number of letters Cassel tried to persuade his friend, who had agreed to assume responsibility for the area of literary history, to be less demanding with respect to “scholarly standards and criteria, and exhaustive completeness”: “Yesterday I saw Zunz again [. . .] and enjoyed his ample conversation for some three hours. He is very much against your wish to go so much into specific details; it will turn [the work] into a book for scholars, but not such a [practical] Real- Encyklopädie, as promised by the plan.”71 If Cassel here wanted to convince Steinschneider of the utility of a more popular sort of presentation by pointing to the paternal authority of Zunz, this would have contradicted Steinschneider’s claim to adhering to a scholarly caliber. In any event, the latter’s contributions to the new encyclopedia were decidedly in line with his own image of an encyclopedia as transmitting rigorously comprehensive overviews of up-to-date scholarly research. Steinschneider’s article “Jüdische Literatur” was the first complete survey of the literature from Ezra to Mendelssohn. It dealt with some 1,600 Jewish authors on 114 quarto pages. Steinschneider defined Jew- ish literature here independently of its sacred tradition: “The literature of the Jews in the broadest sense encompasses everything that Jews have written from the most ancient periods up to the present, regardless of content, language and fatherland.” Steinschneider particularly rejected any notion of identifying “Jewish” literature with the content of Jewish theology:

71 “Gestern war ich wieder bei Zunz [. . .] und genoss beinahe 3 Stunden seine Unterhaltung. Er ist sehr dagegen, dass du so sehr in das spezielle eingehen willst; es wird ein Gelehrtenbuch werden, aber keine solche Real-Encyklopädie, wie sie der Plan verspricht.” Cassel to Steinschneider, 16 May 1844. The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, ARC 108 (Steinschneider Archives), Microﬁlm Reel 2, Corre- spondence Benzian-Chwolsohn. See also the letter of 10 May: “Du musst mir auch die Bemerkung erlauben, dass du dir die Sache zu schwer machst, weil du leisten willst, was eine Bibl[iographia] Hebr[aica] zu leisten hat. Ich sehe kein Unglück darin, wenn ein Name ausbleibt; wir haben es im Plane selbst gesagt, dass bei den vorhandenen Mitteln Lücken bleiben müssen.” (“You have to permit me to note that you’re making things too hard for yourself, because you wish to accomplish what a Bibl[iographia] Hebr[aica] can do. I don’t think it to be any great misfortune if a name does not appear; after all, in the plan we ourselves stated that, given the means at our disposal, there would necessarily have to be gaps.”) and that of 19 May 1844, ibid. moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 129

Like Arabic or Chinese literature, Jewish literature is not merely a literature of theology. For that reason neither should its study be regarded as a mere auxiliary discipline of theology, [just] because previous interest in it was above all associated with Biblical Studies and polemics. Nor is Jewish literature best represented by actual practicing rabbis, i.e., those serving in office.72 In this way, he dissolved the bond between Jewish literature and the representatives of theology, opening up the Wissenschaft des Judentums to philologists, a point on which he differed from, e.g., Abraham Geiger (1810–1874). Steinschneider’s scholarly practice is consistent with his views of the institutionalization of the Wissenschaft des Judentums and with his own conduct. In 1876, he was invited by Meyer Kayserling to teach at the newly opened rabbinical seminary in Budapest. He candidly responded to his friend that he had serious reservations regarding Jewish theological seminaries as they were established in several cities in Europe, notably Breslau, Berlin, Padua and Budapest. He said that he had “very serious objective misgivings” about accepting such a position.73 His preferred “topics” and “conception of Jewish literature and science are not suitable for an institution that is separate from the university.”74 He felt it was imperative that the Wissenschaft des Judentums be secular, because a permanent bond linking it to the “rabbinical guild” would promote “systematic hypocrisy and scientific immaturity.” Steinschneider’s ideal was research at the universities: “Whatever is scientific [emphasis in the original] in Jewish history and literature must not seek to avoid the clear air of the university, and must be made available to the Christians.” Teaching and research positions for “Jewish history and literature” should not be established

72 M. Steinschneider, JL/D, pp. 357–471, here §1, p. 357: “Die Literatur der Juden im weitesten Sinne begreift eigentlich Alles, was Juden von den ältesten Zeiten bis auf die Gegenwart, ohne Rücksicht auf Inhalt, Sprache und Vaterland, geschrieben haben. [. . .] Die jüdische Literatur ist, ebenso wenig als die arabische oder chinesische, eine blos theologische, und ihre Kunde etwa deswegen als bloße Hilfswissenschaft der Theologie zu betrachten, weil das bisherige Interesse an derselben vorzüglich an Bibelkunde und Polemik sich knüpfte. Auch ist die jüdische Literatur nicht etwa vorzugsweise durch eigentliche, d.h. im Amt stehende, Rabbiner vertreten [. . .].” See also Arthur Biram, “Moritz Steinschneider [Obituary],” Ost und West 6 (1906), no. 4 [April], cols. 261–268, here cols. 265f. 73 A. Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” here the letter of 24 Sept. 1876, pp. 520f. [29f.]. 74 Ibid., pp. 520f. [29f.]. 130 arndt engelhardt in theological faculties; rather, they belong in the “faculties of philosophy”; consequently, “the governments [should be] constrained to set up professorships.”75 According to Steinschneider’s conception, “Jewish literature” embraced all extant writings that involved statements by Jews and thus transmitted the living voice of the Jewish people in the past and present. He envisioned Jewish literature to be a “constant living organism, to the extent that its exponents form a distinctive and special whole.” He noted that for the Jews down through the centuries, “religious community is not an exhaustive term, and nationality is only approximate as a designation.”76 Similarly, in his private correspondence with his ﬁancée Auguste Auerbach, commenting on his reasons for having agreed to compose this encyclopedia article and on what he hoped to achieve in it, he emphasized that he saw this work as an opportunity for the ﬁrst time “to make clear to myself and to others the whole [extent] of these grand phenomena [i.e., Jewish literature] as something organic.”77 Steinschneider submitted the article “Jewish Literature” to the Ori- entalist Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer (1801–1888) at the University of Leipzig as a doctoral thesis, and on this basis, on 19 April 1851, the degree Dr. phil. was conferred on him. In his evaluation of the thesis, Fleischer wrote that “of the Jewish literary experts now alive, only Zunz and Rapoport, and perhaps Fürst and Geiger in addition, could have produced such an overview on the basis of their own means.”78

75 Ibid., p. 521 [30]. 76 M. Steinschneider, JL/D, here §1, p. 357: “In diesem Durchgange durch so viele Länder, Sprachen und Materien liegt eine, die Auffassung und Würdigung besonders erschwerende, Eigenthümlichkeit; gewiß bildet aber dieses anscheinende Aggregat von Schriftthum einen stetigen Organismus, in sofern die Träger desselben ein eigenthümliches Ganzes bilden, welches mit dem Namen: Religionsgenossenschaft nicht erschöpfend, mit dem der Nationalität nur annäherungsweise bezeichnet ist.” 77 M. Steinschneider, Briefwechsel mit seiner Verlobten Auguste Auerbach 1845–1849. Ein Beitrag zu jüdischer Wissenschaft und Emanzipation, eds. Renate Heuer and Marie Lou- ise Steinschneider (Frankfurt a.M. and New York: Campus, 1995), p. 114, letter to Auguste Auerbach, 2 June 1846. Italics here are underlined in the original. 78 Universitätsarchiv Leipzig, Phil. Fak. Prom. 251, Bestand Promotionsakten, Steinschneider, Moritz, Blatt 1 revers: “[. . .], daß von den jetzt lebenden jüdischen Literaten nur noch Zunz und Rapoport, außer ihnen vielleicht noch Fürst und Geiger, aus eigenen Mitteln eine solche Übersicht zu geben vermocht hätten.” Italics in the original underlined. My thanks to Mirjam Thulin, Leipzig, for this reference. On Fleischer and the institutionalization of Oriental Studies, see Holger Preißler, “Die Anfänge der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Mor- genländischen Gesellschaft 145, no. 2 (1995): 241–327. moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 131

Steinschneider had studied under Fleischer in the summer semester 1839, and remained in touch with him by correspondence until shortly before Fleischer’s death.79 The article “Jewish Typography and Bookselling,” co-authored with David Cassel, was originally part of the “Jewish Literature” overview, but Steinschneider was late in completing it, so that the piece was published separately in the following volume.80 This treatment of Jew- ish printing and Jewish bookselling was viewed by the two authors as an “important supplement to Jewish literary history” and a “significant element of Jewish cultural history itself.”81 In this first attempt at a survey, they described the characteristics of Jewish printing, its terminology, fonts, colors, paper, title pages, decorations, printer’s marks and illustrations. The known printers and their locations, and the distinctive features of censorship, printing permits and dedications were also analyzed. The largest portion of the article consists of a historical overview, according to areas and periods of the first three centuries of typography, 1475–1740, and closes with an index of the ca. 150 printing-press locations in Europe, from “Adrianople” to “Zürich.” The two articles together sketched the foundations of a scientific approach to dealing with Jewish literature, one which also took the material bases of this cultural history into account. In addition, with their precise bibliographical annotations, they embodied and announced a form of

79 Holger Preißler, “Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer. Ein Leipziger Orientalist, seine jüdischen Studenten, Promovenden und Kollegen,” in Bausteine einer jüdischen Geschichte der Universität Leipzig, ed. Stephan Wendehorst for the Simon Dubnow Institute (Leipzig: Leipziger Universitätsverlag, 2006), pp. 245–268, here p. 253. See for Fleischer’s scientific vision the essay by Ismar Schorsch, “Converging Cognates. The Intersection of Jewish and Islamic Studies in Nineteenth Century Germany,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 55 (2010): 3–36, for the relationship between Steinschneider and Fleischer esp. pp. 14–18. 80 F.A. Brockhaus to Steinschneider, 23 November 1850: “Ich werde nämlich den Band mit dem eigentlichen Ende des Artikels Jüdische Literatur auf Bogen 59 schließen und den Anfang im nächsten Band unter dem besonderen Titel Jüdische Typographie und jüdischer Buchhandel bringen.” (“I will finish the volume with the end of the article Jewish Literature on sheet 59 and then publish the beginning in the following volume under the title Jewish Typography and Jewish Bookselling.”) The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, ARC 108 (Steinschneider Archives), Microfilm Reel 2, Correspondence Benzian-Chwolsohn. 81 M. Steinschneider and D. Cassel, “Jüdische Typographie und jüdischer Buch- handel,” in Allgemeine Encyklopädie, eds. Ersch and Gruber, Section 2, Part 28 [ Jüdische Münzen-Jungermannia], 1851, pp. 21–94, here p. 21. 132 arndt engelhardt scientific research and scholarship that Steinschneider pursued for his entire scholarly career.82

David Cassel’s Popularization of the Wissenschaft des Judentums

Steinschneider’s friend David Cassel followed a different path. Like Steinschneider himself he never acceded to a rabbinate, but devoted himself to Jewish research and teaching in Berlin. In 1872 he was one of the first four scholars to begin lecturing at the liberal “Hoch- schule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums” in Berlin, the others being Abraham Geiger, Hermann Steinthal (1823–1899) and Israel Lewy (1841–1917). And from the 11th edition of Brockhaus’ Conversations- Lexikon (1864–1868) he replaced Leopold Zunz and wrote or revised the relevant articles on Jews and Judaism. So he continued the popular strand of a pragmatic encyclopedia. With his Guide for Instruction on Jewish History and Literature (Leitfaden für den Unterricht in der jüdischen Geschichte und Literatur), he provided a highly popular contemporary textbook on Jewish history and literature, later revised and brought out in several editions.83 Eleven years after its first edition in 1868, his long-awaited textbook, Lehrbuch der jüdischen Geschichte und Literatur, appeared in 1879, published by F.A. Brockhaus.84 At that time Brockhaus was strong in the area of Jewish history and culture, with a 7-volume edition of Moses Mendelssohn’s collected works, edited by his grandson Georg Benjamin Mendelssohn (1794–1874), and other publications featuring authors like Kayserling.85 Cassel’s Lehrbuch also contained a definition

82 An English translation, M. Steinschneider, JL/E, was published (London: Long- man, Brown, Green, Longmans & Roberts, 1857). It was reprinted several times even in the 20th century: Hildesheim 1967; New York 1965 and 1970. The supplementary section on publishing and typography was also reprinted: M. Steinschneider and D. Cassel, Jüdische Typographie und jüdischer Buchhandel ( Jerusalem: Bamberger & Wahrmann, 1938). 83 D[avid] Cassel, Leitfaden für den Unterricht in der jüdischen Geschichte und Literatur. Nebst einer kurzen Darstellung der biblischen Geschichte und einer Uebersicht der Geographie Palästina’s, 3rd printing (Berlin: Louis Gerschel Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1872). 84 D. Cassel, Lehrbuch der jüdischen Geschichte und Literatur (Leipzig: F.A. Brockhaus, 1879). A second, identical edition later appeared (Frankfurt a.M.: J. Kauffmann, 1896). 85 Moses Mendelssohn’s gesammelte Schriften. Nach den Originaldrucken und Handschriften, ed. G[eorg] B[enjamin] Mendelssohn, 7 vols. (Leipzig: F.A. Brockhaus, 1843–1845) [2nd ed., Leipzig: F.A. Brockhaus, 1863]; M[oritz] Kayserling, Die jüdischen Frauen moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 133 of Jewish history, although it deviated from that which had been spelled out by Steinschneider in the 1840s: With the entry of the Jews into civil and state society, and within the cultural efforts of the present, the obligation also comes to an end for Jewish history and culture to record events and intellectual achievements other than those relating only to Judaism. The fact that Jews are being elected into municipal and parliamentary representative bodies, and that in most civilized countries the restrictions weighing down on Jews have been abolished, is less attributable to the merit of the Jews, and more to the honor of governments and representative assemblies which in so doing announce their repudiation of groundless prejudices and proclaim the ﬁnal recognition of inalienable human rights. Privileges and special beneﬁts and favors do not only contradict the essence of the modern state, but have only reluctantly been endured by the Jews themselves, since restrictions and exclusions were long meant for them. Likewise, the names of those men and women of the Jewish faith who have achieved fame and recognition in the realms of science and art, parliament and industry, fortunately no longer belong simply in the annals of a Jewish literature. They provide at best testimony for the indestructibility of the Jewish spirit ( jüdischer Geist), which after oppression over centuries has in the span of two human lifetimes lifted itself up with barely anticipated elasticity, and despite all the obstacles that narrow-mindedness and spitefulness may place in spirit’s way, has achieved for the Jews the place they deserve.86 Shortly before the Berlin anti-Semitism dispute, Cassel, at the time lecturing at the Hochschule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums in Berlin, put forward a vision of a positive future of acculturation for the Jews in Europe, at least in the continent’s “civilized countries.”

in der Geschichte, Literatur und Kunst (Leipzig: F.A. Brockhaus, 1879); idem, ed., Moses Mendelssohn. Ungedrucktes und Unbekanntes von ihm und über ihn (Leipzig: In Commission bei F.A. Brockhaus’ Sortiment und Antiquarium, 1883). See the bibliographies: F.A. Brockhaus in Leipzig. Vollständiges Verzeichnis der von der Firma F.A. Brockhaus in Leipzig seit ihrer Gründung durch Friedrich Arnold Brockhaus im Jahre 1805 bis zu dessen hundertjährigem Geburtstage im Jahre 1872 verlegten Werke. In chronologischer Folge mit biographischen und literarhistorischen Notizen, ed. Heinrich Brockhaus (Leipzig: F.A. Brockhaus, 1872–1875), and F.A. Brockhaus in Leipzig. Vollständiges Verzeichnis der von der Firma F.A. Brockhaus in Leipzig seit dem Jahre 1873 bis zu ihrem hundertjährigen Jubiläum im Jahre 1905 verlegten Werke. In alphabetischer Folge mit biographischen und literarhistorischen Notizen (Leipzig: F.A. Brockhaus, 1905). 86 D. Cassel, Lehrbuch der jüdischen Geschichte und Literatur, p. 528. 134 arndt engelhardt

Conclusion

The bibliographical and cultural-historical studies of Moritz Stein- schneider would today be classified as Grundlagenforschung, basic research in the humanities. This holds especially true for his bibliographical works, oriented toward fundamental and thorough coverage and description. In this endeavor, he employed his own distinctive, highly concise scholarly manner of writing, a mode of condensation and concentration of knowledge, as was expected in encyclopedias. Despite his early involvement with encyclopedias, Steinschneider gradually developed a skeptical view of the encyclopedias published at the end of the 19th century, even though they repeatedly referred to the program of the Real-Encyklopädie des Judenthums. This also holds for the most successful among them. In 1898, the journalist Isidore Singer (1859–1939) sent to Steinschneider a letter. Singer hailed from Austria-Hungary and, after a long odyssey in Europe, had emigrated to North America, where he was working on realizing the first modern Jewish encyclopedia in English. On stationery announcing an Ency- clopedia of the History and Mental Evolution of the Jewish Race, he reported on the encyclopedia project, adding that it had now been accepted by the Christian publishers Funk & Wagnalls in New York. Singer asked the “most distinguished Herr Doctor Steinschneider” to examine the first circular.87 Singer’s project, which would lead to the publication of the Jewish Encyclopedia in New York in 1906, had several of Stein- schneider’s pupils as editors and authors, including Solomon Schechter (1847–1915), Heinrich Malter (1864–1925), George A. Kohut (1874– 1933), and Alexander Marx (1878–1953).88 It is likely that at the time Singer did not receive a very positive answer from Steinschneider, who, in commenting on the encyclopedia to his friends and students, used the rather derogatory term “the Singer machine.”89 In a letter to George A. Kohut Steinschneider writes: “Your ‘gigantic’ encyclopedia does not impress me. At best it will enable a few dilettantes to speak

87 Letter of 29 Dec. 1898, The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, ARC 108 (Steinschneider Archives), Microﬁlm Reel 15, Miscellaneous Material. 88 On the Jewish Encyclopedia, see Shuly Rubin Schwartz, The Emergence of Jewish Scholarship in America. The Publication of the ‘Jewish Encyclopedia’ (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1991). 89 George Alexander Kohut, “Steinschneideriana,” in Studies in Jewish Bibliography and Related Subjects. In Memory of Abraham Solomon Freidus (1867–1923) (New York: Alex- ander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1929), pp. 64–127, here p. 84. moritz steinschneider’s notion of encyclopedias 135 with greater arrogance about things they do not understand. But I don’t want to say by that that no useful article will be submitted. Qui vivra verra.”90 Steinschneider voiced his initial skepticism about this Jewish encyclopedia project because he may have feared a premature popularization of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. Later he changed his mind, but still did not think much of the work.91 Shortly before his death in 1907, after the 12th volume of Singer’s work had appeared with its total of some 15,000 articles, he would withdraw his verdict.92 Indeed, Steinschneider himself is covered by an entry, written by Isidore Singer, and a specimen page of the never realized Real- Encyklopädie des Judenthums by Moritz Steinschneider and David Cassel was reproduced to invent a scholarly tradition.93

Translated from the German by William Templer.

90 Ibid., p. 108, Letter XVIII, 26 April 1900: “Ihre ‘gigantische’ Encyclopädie imponiert mir nicht; sie wird im besten Falle einige Dilettanten befähigen, mit mehr Arroganz über Dinge zu sprechen, die sie nicht verstehen. Damit will ich nicht sagen, daß durchaus kein brauchbarer Artikel geliefert werden wird. Qui vivra verra.” 91 Ibid., p. 115, Letter XXII, 30 November 1902: “Die Encykl[opädie] entspricht meiner sehr geringen Erwartung.” 92 Ibid., pp. 84f.: “He had all the sovereign contempt of the German man of science for any Jewish scholarly enterprise emanating from America, but I [George A. Kohut] had the satisfaction of securing a reversal of his judgment with respect to the Jewish Encyclopedia before his earthly eyes.” 93 The Jewish Encyclopedia, vol. 1 [Aach-Apocalyptic Literature], 1901, “Preface,” pp. vii–xxi, before p. xix; Isidore Singer, “Steinschneider, Moritz,” ibid., vol. 11 [Samson- Talmid Hakam], 1905, pp. 545–547. 5. FROM DIALEKTIK TO COMPARATIVE LITERATURE: STEINSCHNEIDER’S ‘ORIENTALISM’

Irene E. Zwiep

Introduction: The Impartial Steinschneider

The work of Moritz Steinschneider has often been characterized as eminently factual and objective. Steinschneider’s commitment to bibliographical study, with its strict methodology of inventory, direct examination and description, combined with his passionate rejection of theological prejudice, contributed to the widespread reputation of objectivity that was established immediately upon the master’s death. In his 1908 obituary, Solomon Schechter judged that “the immortal Steinschneider” had been “strictly ‘objective’ or impartial . . . Indeed he was so impartial, that he occasionally became unjust . . .”1 Schechter attributed Steinschneider’s excessive objectivity to the enlightened rationalism of the “so-called Measphim,”2 to whose teachings Stein- schneider had been exposed during his early youth, and from whose rationalism he had never quite managed to emancipate himself. Fifty years later, Franz Rosenthal portrayed a Steinschneider whose sole concern had been to enrich the historiography of Western civilization with as many neutral, primary data as possible. Unlike most of his contemporaries, Rosenthal argued, Steinschneider had always remained completely immune to the “Sephardi mystique” and its veneration of Islam. In fact, his “Jewish prism” had allowed Steinschneider to acknowledge Islam’s universal potential and signiﬁ- cance for mankind.3 Writing almost half a century after Rosenthal, Charles Manekin has continued these appraisals. In sketching the

1 Solomon Schechter, “Moritz Steinschneider,” in idem, Seminary Addresses and Other Papers (Cincinnati: Ark Publishing Co., 1915), 119–24, esp. 123. This paper was presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Jewish Historical Society, 1908, and published in the Publications of the AJHS 17 (1909). 2 Ibid., 120. 3 Franz Rosenthal, “Steinschneider’s Contribution to the Study of Muslim Civiliza- tion,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 27 (1958): 67–81. 138 irene e. zwiep

Werdegang of the Hebräische Übersetzungen of 1893, Manekin characterizes Steinschneider’s magnum opus as a monument to pure, factual scholarship. Steinschneider’s famous maxim that “the spirit knows of no ghetto”4 serves as an important prooftext for this judgment.5 As descriptions of Steinschneider’s personal drive, these evaluations are certainly correct. Unlike the writings of colleagues like Zunz, Geiger, and Graetz, Steinschneider’s catalogues and bibliographical surveys did not express an overt religious or political agenda. Never- theless, we all know that no scholar, however “pure” his or her motivation, can ever quite escape the impact of contemporary paradigms. The paradigm of Steinschneider’s days, that is, of nineteenth-century cultural-nationalist scholarship and its successors, happened to have an intrinsic political bias. As I hope to show in this paper, that was a bias which even “the impartial Steinschneider” could not avoid. One important clue to this assumption lies in the longue durée of Steinschneider’s activities. His work spanning some six decades, it is unlikely that this long-standing, composite oeuvre could reﬂect only a single uniform discourse. The remainder of this paper will be devoted to outlining one such shift in paradigm, which was never expressly articulated by Steinschneider but which can be revealed by comparing his early, more historical, work with the more strictly bibliographic surveys he compiled later in his career. When we read the 1857 Jewish Literature from the Eighth to the Eighteenth Century alongside Die arabische Literatur der Juden of 1902, we encounter a methodological re-orientation that could roughly be summarized as the transition from (early nineteenth-century, Hegelian) Dialektik to (late nineteenth-century, of course not entirely un-Hegelian) Compara- tive Literature. As I hope to show, towards the end of his life Stein- schneider seems to have allowed the latter’s inherent internationalism to supersede the more narrowly nationalist orientation of his earlier writings. Steinschneider being neither an overt nor a covert theoretician, this shift was as implicit as it was intricate. Its interpretation is further complicated by the fact that Steinschneider devoted his scholarly efforts to two, rather different, branches of nineteenth-century jüdische Philologie,

4 HÜ, p. xxii. 5 Charles H. Manekin, “Steinschneider’s Hebräische Übersetzungen. From Reference Work to Digital Database,” Jewish Studies Quarterly 7.2 (2000): 141–59. from DIALEKTIK to comparative literature 139 notably ( Jewish) literary history and, increasingly, (“scienti ﬁc”) bibliography. One might thus think that his change in outlook was determined by a shift in the choice of the object of his research. Yet to simply dismiss Steinschneider’s paradigmatic shift as an epiphenom- enon of a change in genre does too little justice to the passionately egalitarian worldview that lay at its roots. In anticipating the analysis below, it is important to stress here that already in his early work Steinschneider betrays that worldview by expressing an interest in Jew- ish literature as one of the “plural manifestations of general culture.” The cultural-nationalist bias of early Hegelian dialectics, however, was hardly compatible with that cultural utopia. The relinquishing, over the years, of that narrow paradigm allowed him to better express it; the bibliographical material could not but illustrate its truth. Another clue lies in what I have called “Steinschneider’s Orien- talism,” a term which in the context of Jewish Hegelian dialectics is slightly more adequate than the famous “Sephardi mystique.”6 There is no denying that in both Jewish Literature and Die arabische Literatur der Juden, the medieval Jewish-Arabic cultural sphere occupies center stage. Yet we shall see that, between the two works, Steinschneider reformulated his evaluation of that oriental sphere, notably of its internal dynamic and its contribution to Western culture. Again, as I shall try to point out, this re-evaluation was not a radical change of mind, but depended to a large extent upon Steinschneider’s no longer using a strictly Hegelian dialectical model as the basis of his bibliographical surveys.

Jewish Orientalism as a Dialectical Category

Before I turn to a brief comparison of the two works, I would ﬁrst like to address that dialectical model, and to deﬁne “Jewish Orientalism” as a category within the adaptation of that model by the early Wissen- schaft des Judentums. In Hegel’s Geschichtsphilosophie, the History of the World had been portrayed as a succession of great but essentially incompatible civilizations, whose historical encounters had served as building blocks for European

6 Cf. esp. Ismar Schorsch, “The Myth of Sephardic Supremacy,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 34 (1989): 47–66. 140 irene e. zwiep society. In the Hegelian scheme, these dialectic encounters had led to neither annihilation nor assimilation, but invariably produced a new, third, culture (“ein eigenthümliches Drittes”), which seamlessly merged the original opposites and, in doing so, constituted the next, always superior, phase in the development of mankind. This dynamic succession of civilizations, from the ancient Orient, via Greece, Rome, and the medieval Christian Empires, had eventually culminated in the advanced cultures and noble institutions of England, France and nascent Germany, in short, of the budding nation-states of modern Europe.7 The earliest exponents of the Wissenschaft des Judentums, many of them actual students of Hegel, gratefully copied the master’s historiographical model and its methodology of reconciling opposites.8 Hardly surprising of course, in these Jewish counter-narratives it was never England, France, nor Germany, but always stateless (“exiled”) Judaism which, having renounced all claims to political autonomy, emerged from the surveys as the ﬁttest of all. In the optimistic decades of the early nineteenth century, the Wissenschaftler felt that this portable Jew- ish Geist was now ready to enter its next phase and contemplate a new encounter. This time, European bourgeois nationalism was its chosen bride or, in technical terms, its dialectical opposite and catalyst. The immediate ideological context certainly seemed to favor this dialectic enterprise. For, on the whole, nineteenth-century cultural nationalism ardently welcomed the assimilation of minorities. Yet in true Hegelian fashion it did not ask them to fully relinquish their original, “opposite” identity. On the contrary, it encouraged them to maintain as much as possible of their indigenous Volkstümlichkeit, of their original national (nowadays we would probably say “ethnic”) loyalties and identiﬁcation.9 It was precisely this part of the process that proved most challenging to the early Wissenschaft. For it was one thing to recognize European

7 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts (Berlin: Nico- laische Buchhandlung, 1821), repr. in Theorie Werkausgabe (Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 1969–1972), 7: 509–11. 8 Cf. esp. Richard Schaeffler, “Die Wissenschaft des Judentums in ihrer Beziehung zur allgemeinen Geistesgeschichte im Deutschland des 19. Jahrhunderts,” in Wissen- schaft des Judentums: Anfänge der Judaistik in Europa, ed. Julius Carlebach (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1992), 113–31, and Norbert Waszek, “Hegel, Mendelssohn, Spinoza—Beiträge der Philosophie zur ‘Wissenschaft des Judentums’? Eduard Gans und die philosophischen Optionen des ‘Vereins für Kultur und Wis- senschaft der Juden’,” Menora 10 (1999): 187–215. 9 Eric J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism Since 1780. Programme, Myth, Reality (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 39. from DIALEKTIK to comparative literature 141 civilization as the obvious, stimulating antithesis. And it was one thing to develop an attractive agenda for Jewish acculturation—the superior, “hybrid,” synthesis. But it was quite another to identify and define, for the first time in history, authentic Jewish Volkstümlichkeit, the Hegelian thesis and point of departure of the whole enterprise. When this basic variable turned out difficult to define, the Hege- lian method of reconciling opposites by articulating their differences proved quite helpful. In particular, it was the fundamental East-West opposition, which had already served as the starting point of Hegel’s own historical periodizations, that provided the solution. Before analyzing how this opposition manifested itself in Steinschneider’s writings, I would like to emphasize that this was not a case of the Jews meekly internalizing and echoing a popular Western stigma. On the contrary, in the writings of the early Wissenschaft, it became a deliberate contrapuntal voice in the formation of a new, composite, identity. If the (occidental) Christian scholars could define their tradition by stressing the differences between East and West, well, then so could the (oriental) Jewish disciples of Hegel. The earliest Jewish examples of the orientalist topos show a variety of options, which range from the rhetoric of reassurance (“we used to be oriental, but now we’re modern”),10 to subtle accommodation (“if we are essentially oriental, then we certainly are the most European of all Orientals”).11 In most early dialectical argumentations, Jewish Orientalism remained a vague generic category that was not, or at best summarily, defined. More often than not, it served as a rhetorical ploy that aimed at articulating the gap that was felt to exist between

10 For example, Eduard Gans, one of Hegel’s star disciples and the first president of the Berlin Verein für Cultur und Wissenschaft des Judenthums, relegated the Jews’ oriental background to the realm of the past. When arguing that modern times had finally put an end to “die schlechte Mischung eines halb orientalischen, halb mittel- altrigen Lebens” (“the evil mixture of a part oriental, part medieval existence”), he suggested an essential incompatibility of orientalism and modern culture; quoted in Waszek, “Hegel, Mendelssohn, Spinoza,” 199. 11 This view is represented by Isaac Marcus Jost, who stated that (when compared to the much more enterprising “abendlaendische, Europaeische, Griechische Welt”) the Jews of antiquity definitely had been oriental, i.e., dedicated to heritage, tradition and routine, and imbued with a strong sense of authority. Nevertheless, from that early age onwards they had distinguished themselves from their oriental brethren through their “natürliche Regsamkeit” (“natural agility”), which had helped them to adopt as many fruits of Western civilization as their religion allowed; in: Geschichte des Judentums und seiner Sekten, vol. 2 (Leipzig: Dörfling & Franke, 1858), 291–97. 142 irene e. zwiep

Europe’s “Western” history on the one hand and the apparent Orien- talism of its Jewish citizens on the other. Still, the Jewish appropriation of the East-West motif had vast methodological implications. In the following decades, exploiting the Jews’ dual, west-östliche disposition became a dominant research strategy, which eventually culminated in a ﬂourishing tradition of Jewish oriental scholarship.12 When trying to connect this branch of “scholarly Ori- entalism” to current nationalist discourse, Jewish scholars were keen to point at an inspiring precedent: the medieval Islamic state, which had once spread its borders (and with it, tolerance and enlightenment) far into the European continent.13 This superior Muslim Grossstaat had offered Europe a platform for a shared culture that had merged oriental thinking with the classical Greek heritage. On this multi-ethnic stage, the Jews claimed a space of their own, as the most proliﬁc cultural brokers of medieval Europe—an inspiring precedent for their potential role in contemporary modern Europe. This is “the Sephardi mystique” in a nutshell, a factor to which Stein- schneider had always been impervious, according to Franz Rosenthal. Having established, however, that that mystique, or rather, that Jew- ish Orientalism had always been part and parcel of the Wissenschaft’s Hegelian methodology, it is about time to verify Rosenthal’s claim that Steinschneider’s work had remained entirely untouched by this contemporary bias.

Jewish Literature through Arabic Science: The 1860 Survey

In his 1822 manifesto Über den Begriff einer Wissenschaft des Judenthums, Hegel’s student Immanuel Wolf had invited Jewish and non-Jewish scholars alike to supplement their knowledge with facts and ﬁgures

12 Cf., e.g., Martin Kramer, ed., The Jewish Discovery of Islam (Tel Aviv: The Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies, 1999) and John M. Efron, “From Mitteleuropa to the Middle East: Orientalism through a Jewish Lens,” Jewish Quarterly Review 94.3 (2004): 490–520, and idem, “Orientalism and the Jewish Histori- cal Gaze,” in Orientalism and the Jews, eds. Ivan Davidson Kalmar and Derek J. Penslar (Waltham, MA: Brandeis University Press & Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 2005), 80–93. 13 This conviction was perhaps most prominently, and certainly most politically, conveyed by Leopold Zunz, e.g., in the opening chapter (entitled “Die jüdische Lite- ratur”) of his collected studies Zur Geschichte und Literatur (Berlin: Veit und Comp., 1845), 1–21. from DIALEKTIK to comparative literature 143 from the Jewish cultural legacy.14 In the mid-1840s Steinschneider heeded this call by submitting to the Berlin Verein für Cultur und Wissenschaft des Judenthums a plan for an ambitious literary survey. True to the Hegelian paradigm suggested by Wolf, the survey was to contribute to universal (Western) history—witness the title: “Zur Lite- raturgeschichte des Mittelalters”—from a strictly particular (oriental) perspective: the medieval Jewish literary heritage. In 1850, Steinschneider’s first results appeared in Ersch and Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste;15 within a decade, an enlarged and revised English version was published, entitled Jewish Lit- erature from the Eighth to the Eighteenth Century, with an Introduction on Talmud and Midrash—an extremely revealing title, as we shall see. As Manekin has noted, an important constant in this celebration of one thousand years of Jewish literacy was the cultural interaction between Judaism and Islam.16 For our argumentation, it is important to take a closer look at the strictly dialectical format Steinschneider used to describe that interaction—a format which inevitably reflected the intrinsic “nationalist” concerns of the early Wissenschaft. For building a valid dialectical argumentation, Steinschneider first of all had to formulate his thesis, the basic point of departure whence his exposé would unfold. He did so by identifying what he called the “truly national literature” of the Jews (an admirable attempt to render the German adjective “volkstümlich” into comprehensible English). This “national literature,” Steinschneider believed, comprised the “Talmud, Midrash, and Targum, to which nothing analogous can be

14 In “Über den Begriff einer Wissenschaft des Judenthums,” Zeitschrift für die Wis- senschaft des Judenthums 1.1 (1822/23): 1–24. Rather than rejecting the Jews’ orientalism as an obstacle to modernity, Wolf managed to turn it to his advantage. In their attempts at reconstructing the history of the human Geist, he argued, gentile scholars had recently begun to identify the East as the cradle of civilization. Given the Ori- ent’s fundamental importance, it was about time scholars should start scrutinizing the history of Judaism, “diese saftreiche und am weitesten verpflanzte Frucht des Morgen- landes” (“this juicy and most widely sown fruit of the Orient”; p. 22). By pointing out that easy access to that past was provided by the historical legacy of contemporary, living Judaism, Wolf thus succeeded in including Judaism in modernity’s effort to understand humanity as a whole. 15 Johann Samuel Ersch and Johann Gottfried Gruber, Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste in alphabetischer Folge (1845–1847) (Leipzig: J.F. Gleditsch, 1850), section II, 27:357–471 [= JL/G]. 16 Manekin, “Steinschneider’s Hebräische Übersetzungen,” 146. 144 irene e. zwiep found elsewhere.”17 For his description of the corpus, Steinschneider could rely on the work done by Zunz, who in his Gottesdienstliche Vorträge had singled out midrashic literature as the authentic (volkstümliche) Jew- ish genre par excellence.18 Technically speaking, Steinschneider’s introductory chapter on Tal- mud and Midrash (the Hegelian thesis) was but the necessary prelude to his description of the synthesis, i.e., of “Jewish Literature” proper. Continuing the Hegelian paradigm, Steinschneider presented this Jew- ish literature as the outcome of early-medieval Jewry’s encounter with its main antithesis: Arabic science. “When through the agency of Ara- bian science . . . Judaism . . . became conscious of a severance between faith and knowledge,” he wrote, “the essence of the Midrash . . . was for the first time set free and . . . formed on a scientific foundation.”19 In the remainder of the book, Steinschneider set out to sketch the contours of this genuine Jewish literature, whose beginnings he located around the year 800 CE, and which he consistently presented as the synthesis of two productive opposites: the somewhat introverted rabbinic library of late antiquity and the scientific canon of the Arabs. In view of his later work, to which we shall turn shortly, it is important to note that, in the 1850s, Steinschneider still defined this corpus (roughly following Zunz) as national literature and as the outcome of the meeting of two national literatures, rather than as a Jewish version of an independent and widely shared international body of knowledge and literature.20 For all his belief in the importance of cultural encounter, Stein- schneider continued to emphasize that “Jewish science” (a term one will seldom find in his later bibliographical works) had indigenous

17 JL/E, p. 4. According to Steinschneider, the detailed classification of this national literature (which throughout the text never received the label “rabbinic”) offered the best “point of view whence to consider the subsequent cultivation of independent science and its controversies” (ibid., 25). 18 Leopold Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden, historisch entwickelt. Ein Beitrag zur Alterthumskunde und biblischen Kritik, zur Literatur- und Religionsgeschichte (Berlin: Asher, 1832); cf. esp. JL/E, p. 31–32. 19 JL/E, p. 83. 20 It is important to note that, whereas in JL/E Steinschneider’s position is rendered in quite absolute terms, JL/G (p. 357) already betrays an awareness of the inadequacy of contemporary labels and classifications: “In diesem Durchgange durch so viele Länder, Sprachen und Materien liegt eine, die Auffassung und Würdigung besonders erschwerende, Eigenthümlichkeit; gewiss bildet aber dieses anscheinende Aggregat von Schriften einen stetigen Organismus, in sofern die Träger desselben ein eigenthümliches Ganzes bilden, welches mit dem Namen Religionsgemeinschaft nicht erschöpfend, mit dem der Nationalität nur annäherungsweise bezeichnet wird.” from DIALEKTIK to comparative literature 145 national roots, and that its development had been accelerated rather than caused by the encounter with foreign disciplines. “The study and knowledge of these [disciplines],” he wrote, “were developed first within the nation itself . . . [a] great internal revolution.”21 Within this internal process, Steinschneider tentatively reserved a role for the Karaites who, not unlike the nineteenth-century Jewish Reformers, had relied on scientific novelties (such as linguistic studies) in order to achieve their own “reform” of rabbanite Judaism. “The dates which have been hitherto ascertained,” he ventured, “point to the oldest karaitic literature as the key for the solution of this most difficult question . . . and it may prove that religious polemics are to be considered as one of the most important elements in it.”22 One cannot escape the impression that, as a medium for creating common ground by expressing oppositions, Karaite polemics must have seemed a vital force in Stein- schneider’s 1860 Hegelian reconstruction of Jewish cultural history. Scholars familiar with Steinschneider’s later work will remember the abstract world that is conjured up by the master’s bibliographical notes. From those exhaustive listings of texts and translations, scribes and manuscripts, “Science” arises as a supra-national, universally human achievement, occupying a realm of its own and having little rapport with individual or national concerns. In Steinschneider’s bibliographical descriptions, the territorial dimension is virtually absent. In the principal inventories of his later years, Science appears as an autonomous entity inhabiting an independent, universal cultural space, not a time-bound, particular, geographical one. Not so in the 1857 survey. The crucial section of Jewish Literature, which describes the first birth pangs of Jewish literature proper, is set in a distinct time and space: the Arabian Peninsula of the first century Anno Hegira. Here, according to Steinschneider, we find the first examples of “Judaeo-Arabic literature,” the immediate precursor of “true” Jewish literature.23 Ever since the first century CE, the conditions on the Peninsula had been most favorable to the Jews, whose culture had always displayed a modest degree of openness towards

21 JL/E, p. 33. Besides pointing at scientific material in “special Haggadah,” notably megillot setarim, Steinschneider also stressed the widespread halakhic application of physics, medicine, mathematics, and astronomy, “which came into consideration in the laws relating to food, leprosy, festivals, and other points ceremonial and judi- cial . . . and which are also indispensable in common life” (ibid.). 22 JL/E, p. 64. 23 JL/E, p. 59–60 (= § 7, “The earliest Jewish literature of Arabia”). 146 irene e. zwiep its neighboring civilizations. The scattered rabbinic elements found in the Qur’an suggested incidental cooperation between learned Jews and Arabs; Jewish poets like Samuel ibn {Adiya had freely employed Arabic genres; and soon Jewish physicians appeared on the scene in what Steinschneider called “the first warlike centuries of Islamism.” With these pioneers having prepared the soil, it was only a matter of time till the “wide-spread dominion of Arabian power and science,” as Steinschneider put it, would set off the “great internal revolution” that brought about Jewish literature. Thus we find that in Jewish Literature, whose origins date back to the early 1840s, Steinschneider located the rise of Jewish literature (literally rather than metaphorically) in the heart of the Orient. His consistent use of the adjective “Arabian,” to the almost total exclusion of such predicates as “Graeco-Arabic” and “Greek” (or “Islamic,” for that matter), suggests that in this early publication he was still preoccupied with identifying Jewish literature as the result of an encounter between concrete, national, oriental cultures. In this respect, his perspective resembles that of many of his early fellow-Wissenschaftler. Still, when we compare his views on the Jewish-Arabic symbiosis with those expressed by Leopold Zunz, for example, at least one striking (and lasting) difference comes to the fore.24 While Zunz had extolled the linguistic uniformity and unified Bildung of the Muslim empire, Steinschneider, by contrast, was fascinated by the multi-lingualism and pluriformity of its corpus.25 As we shall see in the following section of this paper, this early affinity with cultural pluralism or, more precisely, with the plural manifestations of general culture, would become the guiding principle in his later work. In his 1902 Die arabische Literatur der Juden it was not Islam (being monotheistic and therefore potentially dogmatic and intolerant) but the pagan and polytheistic Jahiliyya that he adduced as the ideal backdrop of all cultural development.26

24 Cf. esp. Zunz’ introductory chapter to his Zur Geschichte und Literatur, mentioned above (n. 13). 25 “The language of the Jewish literature of this period varies with the department of literature and the geographical locality,” Steinschneider had observed, whereupon he embarked on a summary of early medieval treatises written in the various vernaculars of the period, from Persian, via Romance, to a Turkish text written in Hebrew characters; JL/E, pp. 65–66. 26 Arab. Lit., pp. 2–3. from DIALEKTIK to comparative literature 147

Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen: Steinschneider’s Later Works

So far, we have seen a Moritz Steinschneider at work who, in the 1850s, had been steeped in early Wissenschaft methodology. Before long, however, we find that he abandoned the Wissenschaft’s schematic Hegelianism and its intrinsic national bias. In its place emerged a more open, internationalist conception of universally shared science and scholarship, inherited from Greek culture. It was a move that may have been inspired by the translated nature of the material he had set out to describe, as well as by his predominantly bibliographical, “objective” interest. Yet simultaneously this new outlook also appears to have had an interesting parallel in contemporary non-Jewish scholarship, something that had been, one might say, “in the air.” Steinschneider’s (tacit) shift in orientation is reflected, first of all, by the terminology he began to use in order to denote cultural interaction. In his 1869 study on Alfarabi, for example, he had still hoped to offer his readers “an illustration of the impact of oriental upon occidental literature.”27 Soon after, however, the words he chose for describing the nature of cultural contact changed, and unilateral influence made way for a free trade in ideas between equal, mutually inspiring partners (in his descriptions of polemical literature) and for a liberal sharing of universal knowledge (in his bibliographical inventories of scientific tracts and manuscripts). Terminology, of course, was but the tip of the iceberg. Stein- schneider’s departure from pure dialectics also implied his turning away from the reconstruction of national science and, with it, from the formative role played by the oriental nations in the world’s intellectual history. A technical motivation for this change can be found in the opening section of Die Arabischen Übersetzungen aus dem Griechischen (1889), which contains a short exposé on contemporary notions of the value of translations. According to the premises of German Idealism that Steinschneider summarized there, only the original work could be considered part of a nation’s cultural history; as part of that heritage it was believed to attest to the Gemeingeist (the common spirit) of the people who wrote the original treatise. By contrast, a translated piece of scholarship

27 “eine Beleuchtung des Einflusses der orientalischen Literatur auf die occiden- talischen,” in: Alf., p. 1. 148 irene e. zwiep would yield no clues about the spirit of the nation that produced it. If anything, a translation resembled the back of a carpet, hinting at the front pattern without showing the actual colors.28 The implications of the simile are clear: whereas a Greek treatise would always reflect the Greek Volkstümlichkeit, its Arabic version contained no traces whatsoever of the secondary Arabic temperament. At best it vaguely reflected, in faded tones, the original Greek spirit. Given the translated nature of the medieval corpus, there could thus be no such thing as Arabic (or Jewish, for that matter) scientific literature.29 According to Steinschneider, however, the medieval translations were far from devoid of historical significance. On the contrary, he argued, they constituted an essential link in the chain of Western culture, since they had guarded scholarly continuity over the centuries.30 Their initial seminal role, however, was now replaced by a more serviceable, conservative one. Thus “Orientalism” ceased to be a formative force in Steinschneider’s conception of Western civilization. In its place, he put a universal intellectual sphere, in which the age- old East-West opposition was superseded by the meeting of medieval Judaism, Christianity and Islam in the joint effort of safeguarding the continuation of general world culture. Upon closer inspection it appears that Steinschneider’s principal premises in Die Arabischen Übersetzungen aus dem Griechischen (the inability of language to endorse nationality over universality; the assumption that translation does not, at any point, involve naturalization; and, above all, the persistent portrayal of science as a Greek, i.e., universally human achievement)31 not only implied a departure from previous Wissenschaft methodology, but also the embrace—more likely than

28 “Übersetzungen . . . welche man mit der Rückseite eines Teppichs verglichen hat, die das Muster ohne die Farben zeigt”; Arab.Üb., p. 4. 29 Hence Steinschneider’s preference for neutral labels like Schach bei den Juden and Mathematik bei den Juden (1893–1899). 30 Arab.Üb., p. 5. 31 “La Grèce était la source unique du savoir et de la droite pensée,” according to Steinschneider in his prize essay on philosophical and scientific translation literature, submitted to the Académie des inscriptions et belles lettres (1880); quoted from Rosenthal, “Steinschneider’s contribution,” 78. The idea that ancient Greece had epitomized the essence of humanity went back to early nineteenth-century German classical studies; cf. already Friedrich August Wolf, “Darstellung der Alterthumswissen- schaft nach Begriff, Umfang, Zweck und Werth,” Museum der Alterthums-Wissenschaft 1 (1807): 10–145, esp. 76–77, where Wolf had contended that knowledge of antiquity would lead to “empirical knowledge of humanity itself.” from DIALEKTIK to comparative literature 149 not unconscious and intuitive—of a new, broader paradigm. This paradigm postulated one intellectual state for all mankind, in a world that was rapidly becoming both larger and smaller, due to the increase of modern means of communication—it was, in short, the paradigm of the newly emerging discipline of Comparative Literature.32 Echoes of this new outlook are particularly prominent in Die Arabische Literatur der Juden of 1902, whose Vorwort [=Preface] contains a passionate plea for international brotherhood through a universal understanding of human culture.33 The text was written mainly to emphasize the book’s objectivity, which Steinschneider deemed representative of his life-long study of medieval literature. To underline this point, he rebuked all scholars who dared to engage in racial or theological polemics; he dismissed, in standard enlightened fashion, religion as the natural opponent of science, and invited his colleagues to promote, through scholarship, the one shared culture of mankind. “It is [a scholar’s] duty,” he wrote, “to highlight the common element in humanity’s many circles . . . that which brings people together—das, was die Menschen einander nähert.”34 Nationalist movements, most prominently Zionism, he deemed particularly harmful, since they were incompatible with the internationalist values of humanity and justice.35 These ardent lines, written by an 86-year-old Steinschneider looking back on a long and fruitful career, bring to mind the words with which George Edward Woodberry, first professor of “Comparative Litera- ture” at Columbia University, had introduced his new discipline, only ten years before. “The parts of the world draw together,” Woodberry had declared, “and with them the parts of knowledge, slowly knitting into that one intellectual state which . . . will be at last the true bond of all the world. The modern scholar shares more than other citizens in the benefits of this enlargement and intercommunication . . . he lives in a larger world . . . The emergence and growth of the new study known

32 The ﬁrst Department of Comparative Literature was established at Columbia University in 1891. 33 A quarter of a century before, in his 1877 Pol. Lit., Steinschneider had postponed all politics until the ﬁnal paragraph of the book, where he launched a more modest, national, appeal for emancipation. “Citizenship and fatherland,” he summarized at the end of an almost 400-page inventory of medieval religious polemics, “participation in the spiritual goods and efforts of the fatherland, take the sting out of polemics” (“Bürgerrecht und Heimath, Theilnahme an den geistigen Gütern und Bestrebungen des Vaterlandes, brechen der Polemik die Spitze ab.” [ p. 388]). 34 Arab. Lit., p. x. 35 Ibid., n. 8. 150 irene e. zwiep as Comparative Literature will run its course, and together with other converging elements goes to its goal in the unity of mankind found in the spiritual unities of science, art and love.”36 Berlin was not New York, and Steinschneider was not Woodberry. And, of course, in its meticulous bibliographical methodology, Die Ara- bische Literatur der Juden had precious few points of contact with the literary analyses of Woodberry and his newly created circle of colleagues. Yet in its postulating a political, uniting role for scholarship, Steinschneider’s scholarly swan song does seem to have shared (again, at best subconsciously) the utopian agenda of contemporary, fashionable, yet ultimately not quite un-Hegelian, Comparative Literature.

Epilogue

Having arrived at the end of these considerations, we might ask ourselves one ﬁnal time: Was there really an impartial Steinschneider? The most plausible answer to this difﬁcult question, I believe, will be: Yes, there was, but only as far as paradigm and conscience allowed him, for as soon as pluralism was at stake, the Jew Steinschneider revealed himself to be a passionately biased advocate of unity through pluriformity. And his bibliographical studies, factual and objective though they may seem to us, were by far the best medium to express and spread that gospel.

36 Quoted from Edward Said, Culture and Imperialism (London: Chatto and Windus, 1993), 53 (emphasis mine). 6. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER’S CONCEPT OF THE HISTORY OF JEWISH LITERATURE

Reimund Leicht

Moritz Steinschneider’s tremendous and often unsurpassed achievements in the study of Hebrew books earned him the title “father of Hebrew bibliography.”1 He is often seen as a scholar par excellence who studied, with a certain degree of pedantry, every piece of Jewish literature he came across, irrespective of its historical or cultural value. But was the comprehensive bibliographical mapping of Jewish literature Steinschneider’s ultimate goal? Although much of his work does indeed leave us with the impression of Steinschneider as a painstaking scholar striving for the objective documentation of the remains of Jew- ish literature and nothing more, in the present paper I try to argue the case that this interpretation does not do justice to Steinschneider’s real ambitions. Already in his ﬁrst important publication—the essay “Jüdische Literatur” for Ersch and Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste—Steinschneider gives much more than just a bibliographical sketch of Jewish literature. It is an ambitious draft for a comprehensive history of Jewish literature based upon clearly formulated historiographical concepts. In a later work—the lectures known as “Allgemeine Einleitung in die jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters”— Steinschneider makes it clear that bibliographical research, or the collection of dry facts, cannot be a goal in and of itself. Rather, the aim of all historical research should be “cultural history” (Kulturgeschichte), of which the history of literature is an inseparable part.2 This is an indication that Steinschneider’s own scientiﬁc goals were reaching beyond bibliographical documentation, and that they had deeper theoretical foundations than later generations were willing to concede. It is the purpose of the present paper to shed some light on

1 Ismar Elbogen, “Moritz Steinschneider, der Vater der Hebräischen Bibliogra- phie,” Soncino-Blätter 3/4 (1926): 155–58. 2 AE, p. XV/312: “Kulturgeschichte ist das eigentliche Ziel der Weltgeschichte, weil das Ziel aller Geistesthätigkeit.” 152 reimund leicht

Steinschneider, not the father of Hebrew bibliography, but the historian of Jewish literature, who developed a concept of the history of Jewish literature as part of a general Kulturgeschichte—a concept that served him as a guideline for his relentless activities as a bibliographer but that goes well beyond the collection of dry facts. Steinschneider’s conceptual framework for the study of the history of Jewish literature can be seen in many of his books and articles, but the above-mentioned essay, “Jüdische Literatur,” along with the lectures published under the title “Allgemeine Einleitung,” are the most important sources for the reconstruction of his ideas about what a history of Jewish literature should look like. These works are therefore the main focus of the following discussions. But before I proceed to them, I begin with a short discussion of Leopold Zunz’s (1794–1886) contribution to the discipline of the history of Jewish literature, which will serve as a foil for a proper appraisal of Steinschneider’s achievements in this ﬁeld.3

1. Steinschneider’s Predecessor: Leopold Zunz’s Concept of the History of Jewish Literature

Steinschneider’s essay “Jüdische Literatur” marks an enormous step forward in the study of Jewish literature, but it was made possible by the scholarly activities of earlier representatives of the early Wissenschaft des Judentums. Among these, Leopold Zunz’s epoch-making “Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur,” published in 1818,4 is of prime importance. Zunz’s article is generally interpreted as an impressive manifesto for the nascent Wissenschaft des Judentums, but it should also, and no less

3 The recently published book by Johannes Sabel, Die Geburt der Literatur aus dem Geist der Aggada (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), pp. 35–167, contains a detailed analysis of the interpretation of the Aggadah in nineteenth-century Wissenschaft des Judentums and in Jewish literature. Unfortunately, this book came to my attention only when this article was largely completed. The focus of the book and that of the present article are slightly different, but some of the conclusions regarding Zunz’s and Steinschneider’s interpretation of the Aggadah are complimentary. 4 Leopold Zunz, Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur (Berlin: Maurersche Buchhand- lung, 1818); republished in Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 1 (Berlin: Gerschel, 1875), pp. 1–31 (German citations according to this edition). A partial English translation used here can be found in Alfred Jospe, ed., Studies in Jewish Thought. An Anthology of German Jewish Scholarship (Detroit: Wayne University Press, 1981), pp. 19–25. moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 153 importantly, be seen as a text dealing with the history of Jewish literature. Read as such one is, on the other hand, bafﬂed by the enormous progress made in the study of Jewish literature in the three decades between Zunz’s programmatic essay and Steinschneider’s “Jüdische Literatur.” This gap is manifested not only in the incomparably richer documentation of Steinschneider’s essay, but also in the formulation of some of its basic concepts and ideas. A good example of this is that Zunz declares without hesitation that “rabbinische Literatur” (i.e., post-biblical Jewish literature) should be seen as the “literature of a nation,” which serves as “the entrance gate to an understanding of that people’s cultural development throughout the ages.”5 Nationality as a paradigm for the reconstruction of Judaism’s literary history is thus an absolute given for Zunz, and accordingly he saw no need to expand any further on the matter. Therefore, he directly proceeds to a “table of contents of the sciences” (“Inhalts-Verzeichniss von Wissen- schaften”) and a “survey” (“Übersicht”) of Jewish literature. Reading this survey, the modern reader is once again surprised by the lack of systematic ideas. One searches in vain in Zunz’s work for a discussion of a historiographic pattern for the organization of the history of Jew- ish literature. That being said, the preliminary outline of Jewish literature as it appears in “Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur” was not Zunz’s last word on the issue. Although, interestingly enough, Zunz did not include any systematic discussions on the nature or structure of a history of Jewish literature in any of his great works (e.g., Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden,6 Die synagogale Poesie des Mitteltalters7 or the Literaturgeschichte der synagogalen Poesie8), he did publish two articles

5 Zunz, Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur, p. 6: “Wer die Litteratnr [sic!] einer Nation als den Eingang betrachtet zur Gesammtkenntnis ihres Culturganges durch alle Zeiten hindurch—wie in jedem Moment ihr Wesen aus dem Gegebenen und dem Hinzu- kommenden, d. i. aus dem Innern und Aeussern sich gestaltet, wie Schicksal, Klima, Sitten, Religion und Zufall freundschaftlich oder feindlich einander greifen, und wie endlich die Gegenwart, als aller dagewesenen Erscheinungen nothwendiges Resultat dasteht: wahrlich der tritt mit Ehrfurcht vor diesen Göttertempel, und lässt bescheiden sich in Vorhalle einführen, die erhabene Aussicht vom Giebel herunter als ein Wür- digerer einst zu genissen”; cf. the English translation, p. 22. 6 Leopold Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden (Berlin: Ascher, 1832). 7 Idem, Die synagogale Poesie des Mitteltalters (Berlin: Springer, 1855–1859). 8 Idem, Literaturgeschichte der synagogalen Poesie (Berlin: Gerschel, 1865). 154 reimund leicht in Zur Geschichte und Literatur (1845),9 which give us more detailed insights into his concept of the history of Jewish literature. They also foreshadow later developments that are also found in Steinschneider’s works. The apparently earlier of the two undated articles is entitled “Die jüdische Literatur.” It is saturated with Hegelian terminology and gives us a vivid impression of the intellectual atmosphere that prevailed among the early adherents of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. Zunz com- mences his survey with a characterization of the nature of literature in general, which he believes to be the product of a single universal Spirit (“Ausflüsse eines einzigen Urgeistes”)10 active in “the particular” (“in dem Besonderen”), i.e., in “the literature of a specific nation.”11 The concept that literature should be seen as the product of the activity of the “divine Spirit” (“göttlicher Geist”) in the “particular” is of special importance to Zunz, since it allows him to argue for the existence of a separate Jewish literature that nevertheless forms part of world literature in general: The Jews are “a historical particularity recognized by world history” and they are “according to national tradition and confession a whole,” all this being the “justification for the existence and the foundation for the peculiarity of a Jewish literature.”12 At the same time, Zunz depicts Jewish literature as deeply interwoven with ancient literature, Christianity, and scientific activity in the Middle Ages, such that it is complementary to general literature, having “its own organism, which helps to understand the universal—if in itself understood according to universal laws.”13

9 Idem, “Die jüdische Literatur,” in Zur Geschichte und Literatur (Berlin: Veit, 1845), pp. 1–21; and idem, “Zur Literatur des jüdischen Mittelalters in Frankreich und Deutschland,” in Zur Geschichte und Literatur (Berlin: Veit, 1845), pp. 22–213. 10 Idem, “Die jüdische Literatur,” p. 1. 11 Ibid., p. 2: “Dann wird die Literatur des einzelnen Volkes ein aus bildenden Kräften gezeugtes, ein Widerglanz des göttlichen Geistes, der in dem Besondern, das auch seinen Antheil an dem Ewigen hat, sich offenbart, und ihre Summe und Spitze lässt uns alles dasjenige überschauen, was die edelsten Geister empfunden und gewollt, was sie gesucht, geliebt, erkämpft und wofür sie ihr sterbliches Theil hingegeben.” 12 Ibid., p. 2: “Eine solche von der Weltgeschichte anerkannte historische Beson- derheit sind die Juden, nach Volksthum und Bekenntnis ein Ganzes, dessen Richtun- gen von einheitlichen, mit ihren Wurzeln in das tiefste Alterthum hineinragenden, Gesetzen gelenkt werden, und dessen geistige Erzeugnisse, bereits über zwei Jahr- tausende, eine Lebensfaser unzerreissbar durchzieht. Diess die Berechtigung zur Exis- tenz, die Begründung der Eigentümlichkeit einer jüdischen Literatur.” 13 Ibid., p. 2: “Aber sie ist auch aufs innigste mit der Cultur der Alten, dem Ursprung und Fortgang des Christenthums, der wissenschaftlichen Thätigkeit des Mittelalters verﬂochten, und indem sie in die geistigen Richtungen von Vor- und moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 155

After these general remarks, which assert Jewish literature’s peculiarity while safeguarding its honorable place within world literature, Zunz gives a brief account of Jewish history, aimed at explaining the “misfortune” (“Missgeschick”) Jewish literature suffered in the past. This part of the essay displays Zunz’s general chronological pattern for the history of Jewish literature. He begins with the contacts (and clashes) between Judaism and Hellenism in antiquity and describes the rise of Christianity.14 Then he mentions the “great revolution” of the Arabs and the spread of science under their hegemony, which led for a second time to the involvement of Judaism with a foreign national culture, resulting in the mutual influence of the two nations on one another.15 He further points out the deplorable cultural situation in the Christian Occident, “darkened by the glory of the Pope,” where only in a slow process and after the defeat of the Crusaders did the first harbingers of the freedom of conscience appear. During this period, the Jews functioned as agents for the transfer of Arabic science to Europe, until Italian culture led to the awakening of science and, aided by the invention of the printing press, “the star of freedom” ascended.16 Zunz’s description of the modern age largely consists of a survey of the “ups and downs” of the study of Hebrew literature by Christian scholars from the Renaissance to its utter decline in the nineteenth century,17 concluding his article with a call to recognize the importance of the study of Jewish literature for philosophers, pub- licists, theologians, and students of the political sciences.18 In his second essay, “Zur Literatur des jüdischen Mittelalters in Frankreich und Deutschland,” Zunz further develops this historiographical scheme. In the introduction he presents, for the first time, a model of the history of Jewish literature with a detailed classification into three major divisions (“Abschnitte”) and no less than eleven subdivisions, or “epochs” (“Epochen”). Similar to the model later presented in Steinschneider’s “Die jüdische Literatur,” the three major “divisions” are as follows: antiquity (characterized first by unmediated

Mitwelt eingreift, Kämpfe und Leiden theilend, wird sie zugleich eine Ergänzung der allgemeinen Literatur, aber mit eigenem Organismus, der nach allgemeinen Gesetzen erkannt das Allgemeine wiederum erkennen hilft.” 14 Ibid., pp. 4–5. 15 Ibid., pp. 5–6. 16 Ibid., pp. 6–8. 17 Ibid., pp. 8–19. 18 Ibid., pp. 19–20. 156 reimund leicht tradition and later on by the encounter with the spirit of classical culture), the Middle Ages (determined by the influence of Christianity and Islam and characterized by the usage of Hebrew for all products of the Spirit [“Werke des Geistes”]), and modern times, when Juda- ism was confronted for a third time with Greek wisdom and which is characterized by the use of national languages and the discrepancy between religious dogma and life.19 Zunz does not limit himself to this rough division and subdivides it into smaller epochs, each of which receives its specific role and importance “from the law of historical development.”20 The enumeration of all the characteristics mentioned for the eleven epochs in the history of Jewish literature is beyond the scope of this paper, but it is striking to see that the four epochs of ancient times are largely characterized by their changing attitude toward the Midrash, on the one hand, and external cultural influences, on the other: In the first period (330–143 BCE), the aim of intellectual activity was the understanding of the law. In the second period (143 BCE–138 CE), the influence of Hellenic culture grew and the schools of legal and speculative Midrash further developed. In the third epoch (138–358 CE), a struggle ensued against the dominance of foreign influence, whereas the fourth epoch (358–541 CE) yielded the Babylonian Talmud. The fifth epoch (541–770 CE) seems to have been a period of transition from the ancient world to the Middle Ages, when the Halakhah lost its creative power, the Karaite sect came into being, and the first imitations of the poetry and science of the Syrians were produced. The sixth epoch (770–960 CE) is dominated by the impact of Arabic philosophy, which generated a conflict between different sects and ultimately led to the development of exegesis and philology (“grammar”) and of natural sciences. Finally, the seventh epoch (960–1204 CE) is the “golden era of the Jewish Middle Ages” with its development of the sciences and poetry. After this apogee of Jewish literature, the eighth epoch (1204–1492 CE) was more or less a continuation of the previous one, relying on its achievements, whereas the ninth epoch (1492–1655 CE) is a period of persecutions and of a decline in knowledge and culture, although the invention of printing heralded the coming of a new culture of

19 Zunz, “Zur Literatur des jüdischen Mittelalters,” p. 22. 20 Ibid., p. 23: “Jedem dieser grossen Räume giebt das Gesetz geschichtlicher Fort- bildung seine eigenthümliche Thätigkeit und Bedeutung.” moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 157

science. Subsequently, the tenth epoch (1655–1755 CE) was a century of general decline, while the eleventh epoch (from 1755 CE onwards) announced the beginning of a new period in which Jews and Jewish literature would begin to participate in universal culture (“grössern Antheil an der allgemeinen Thätigkeit”). This historical outline is the first draft of the history of Jewish literature produced by the early Wissenschaft des Judentums. In many respects, it became paradigmatic for later historians of Jewish literature. To mention just a few important aspects: “Jewish literature” is considered to be the literature of the “Jewish nation”; it must be divided into three major periods (antiquity, Middle Ages, modern times); the center of ancient Jewish literature is the Midrash; and the impact of Arabic culture on Jewish literature marks the main factor for the transition to the medieval period, in which the Karaites also assume a crucial role as catalysts for historical progress. Not surprisingly, Jewish culture in Spain is considered by Zunz (and many others after him) as the unsurpassed apogee of Jewish literature, and he does not hide his healthy disrespect for the impact of theology on Jewish and non-Jewish literary history. Historical progress is associated with the liberation from its influence. Thus it was Zunz who was the first to develop a well-defined paradigm for a history of Jewish literature that could serve Moritz Steinschneider, Zunz’s most important student and friend, as a model for his own sketch of the history of Jewish literature.

2. Steinschneider’s Concept of a History of Jewish Literature in “Jüdische Literatur”

The ﬁrst publication to provide insight into Steinschneider’s concept of the history of Jewish literature is his German essay “Jüdische Literatur.”21 It was published in 1850 in the twenty-seventh part of

21 Steinschneider’s essay “Jüdische Literatur” was preceded by David Cassel’s Plan der Real-Encyclopädie des Judenthums zunächst für die Mitarbeiter (Krotoschin: Monasch, 1844), a project in which Steinschneider was involved from the outset (cf. Plan, p. 3). One would expect Steinschneider’s central ideas of the concept of a history of Jew- ish literature to find their expression in this text as well. However, the outline of the section on Literaturgeschichte (Plan, pp. 28–29) and the subsequent remarks in it (Plan, pp. 49–52, §36) do not betray the slightest trace of the concept of the history of Jewish literature developed and adopted by Steinschneider in his later essay of 1845–1847. It is possible that in 1844 Steinschneider had not yet developed a clear concept and that 158 reimund leicht the second section of Ersch and Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, but it was written—as Steinschneider relates in the preface to the English translation—in the years 1845–1847.22 “Jüdische Literatur” is considered by all to be a synthesis of an overwhelming quantity of biographical and bibliographical information, culled from earlier Jewish bibliographical works (e.g., Abraham Zacuto [1452–1515], Gedaliah ibn Yachya [1515–1587] and Æayyim Joseph David Azulai [1724–1806]), Christian Hebraists (e.g., Giulio Barto- locci [1613–1687] and Johann Christoph Wolf [1683–1739]), and of thirty years of intensive research carried out by the Wissenschaft des Judentums (Solomon Rapoport [1790–1867], Samuel David Luzzato [1800–1865], Leopold Zunz, Zacharias Frankel [1801–1875], Michael Sachs [1808–1864], Meyer Heinrich Landauer [1808–1841], Abra- ham Geiger [1810–1874], Leopold Dukes [1810–1891], David Cassel [1818–1893], Adolf Jellinek [1820/21–1893], Steinschneider himself, and others). A closer look at this essay reveals, however, that it is no less remarkable for its chronological and systematic organization and historiographical interpretation of the material. In a brief introduction found in the original German version23 but omitted in the English translation, Steinschneider attempts to define the subject matter of his essay, namely, “Jewish literature.” It is perhaps not surprising to see that Steinschneider tries to characterize “Jewish literature” in the most comprehensive manner, since it was one of the goals of the Wissen- schaft des Judentums to broaden the scope of its research and to include phenomena that were marginalized in Jewish history. Consequently, his all-embracing approach necessitated the search for an answer to the question: what makes Jewish literature a real unity? Steinschneider’s deep preoccupation with this question becomes clear in the first sentence of “Jüdische Literatur,” where he states that “the literature of he did so only in the years following, in close dialogue with the ideas of his teacher Leopold Zunz. 22 JL/E, p. v. The English translation follows the German original in its general outline. In numerous passages, however, it is considerably enlarged and modified, as Steinschneider himself mentions in his introduction (p. ix). The most important omis- sions are “§31. Schluß, Quellen,” and a long section at the beginning of JL/G §1, which will have to be discussed in more detail later on. Since Steinschneider did not change his general outlook on the history of Jewish literature in the English version of his essay, the present interpretation relies on both versions, quoting the English version in the text and, where necessary, the German original in the footnotes. 23 JL/G, p. 357. moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 159 the Jews in the broadest sense actually comprises everything that was written by the Jews from the most ancient times up to the present, irrespective of its content, language and fatherland.”24 This definition, however, gives rise to enormous difficulties, as Steinschneider himself acknowledges. Jewish literature was produced in so many different countries and languages and on so many different subject matters that one finds it difficult to convince oneself that “this apparent aggregate of literature” can be seen as “a connected organism.” Steinschneider’s answer to this problem is carefully balanced: Jew- ish literature forms a unity, but in a most peculiar way “insofar as its agents form a specific whole, which cannot be designated exhaustively as religious community and only approximately as nationality.”25 Nei- ther the term hebräische Literatur, nor neuhebräische Literatur or rabbinische Literatur can therefore appropriately designate the subject matter of the essay.26 The task of defining the limits of Jewish literature becomes even more difficult if one takes into consideration the strong tension between the fact that Jewish literature follows currents prevalent in the countries and peoples in which it was written and the fact that it also creates specific literary genres (“Literaturkreise”) that cannot be compared to anything outside Jewish culture.27 In view of all these questions, Steinschneider’s delineation of “Jewish literature” could not have been simplistic. Similar to Zunz’s approach, he regards the Jewish nation as the foundation of the phenomenon of Jewish literature, which guarantees its inner unity. Contrary to Zunz, however, in Steinschneider’s view this unity of Jewish literature remains a highly problematic one. A similar impression arises from the chronological organization of “Jüdische Literatur.” Steinschneider divides Jewish literature into four “principal periods,”28 though not without expressing certain

24 JL/G, p. 357: “Die Literatur der Juden im weitesten Sinne begreift eigentlich Alles, was Juden von den ältesten Zeiten an bis auf die Gegenwart, ohne Rücksicht auf Inhalt, Sprache und Vaterland, geschrieben haben.” 25 JL/G, p. 357: “In diesem Durchgange durch so viele Länder, Sprachen und Materien liegt eine, die Auffassung und Würdigung besonders erschwerende, Eigenthümlichkeit; gewiß bildet aber dieses anscheinende Aggregat von Schriftthum einen stetigen Organismus, in sofern die Träger desselben ein eigenthümliches Ganzes bilden, welches mit dem Namen: Religionsgenossenschaft nicht erschöpfend, mit dem der Nationalität nur annäherungsweise bezeichnet ist.” 26 JL/G, p. 357. 27 JL/G, pp. 358–59. 28 JL/E, p. 1 (JL/G, p. 358: “Hauptperioden”). 160 reimund leicht

dissatisfaction at having to exclude the Bible and the older Hebrew literature from his essay, these “having been treated by Christian authors under separate heads.”29 The division into four periods, however, must not be seen as a schematic one, and Steinschneider repeatedly emphasizes that it is based upon a combination of chronological aspects, general characteristics, and systematic considerations with regard to content and literary form. The first period of Jewish literature from the time of Ezra to the Arabic hegemony is “characterized by the Oral Tradition and Midrash.” It is followed by a second period that stretches from the beginning of the Arabic hegemony until the expulsion of the Jews from Spain and which is “characterized as a process of new formations first struggling for existence, then in full possession, and finally perfected by cultivation.” The third period, covering Jewish history until the time of Mendelssohn, “is, in general, one of decay,” while the fourth period from Mendelssohn onwards is “now in course of elaboration” and thus exceeds the boundaries of a literary historian’s task.30 This chronological division can be seen as reflecting the common practice of dividing history into ancient, medieval, early modern, and modern times. It is similar to Zunz’s earlier model but also reveals a few differences. Whereas Zunz, for example, lumped together the apogee of the high Middle Ages with the subsequent period of decline, Stein- schneider makes a clear distinction between the two. Steinschneider follows Zunz, however, in his attempt to adjust the external chronological scheme to internal criteria, and to anchor it in significant characteristics within Jewish literature. This leads him to an interpretation of the role of Midrash in Jewish antiquity which is partly foreshadowed by Zunz’s model. Midrash, for Steinschneider, is the dominant form of all Jewish literature in the first period of its history: all Jewish literature after the restoration of Jewish statehood under Ezra was midrashic in form. The “first germs” of this phenomenon can be detected in the latest

29 JL/E, p. vi; cf. also JL/G, p. 357: “Die Abtrennung der biblischen (hebräischen) und apokryphischen Schriften von den übrigen jüdischen geschieht nach einem dog- matischen, für den literaturgeschichtlichen Standpunkt untergeordneten Momente, mußte aber wegen ihrer allgemeinen Verbreitung auch in dieser Encyclopädie respektiert werden. Dem innern Wesen nach ist die Entwickelung eine stetige, auch in Übergängen der späteren kanonischen und apokryphischen wahrnehmbare.” 30 JL/E, p. 1 (JL/G, p. 358). moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 161 parts of the Hebrew Bible.31 Later on, when the Bible had become “the centre of all thought and religious action” in post-exilic Judaism, it provided “a centre to the Jewish mind and a direction to literature, which, predominating in the ﬁrst period, have remained active till the present time.”32 The results of this general attitude were, however, double-edged, since on the one hand the “Bible-centrism” stimulated mental activity and study, but at the same time submitted it to the hegemony of Scripture. The Bible as the center of post-biblical Jewish culture generated the production of a collective literature of a peculiar form. It is divided into two different branches—Halakhah and Aggadah—which Stein- schneider calls “the truly national literature of more than a thousand years, to which no analogous can be found elsewhere.”33 Midrash thus becomes the true core of national Jewish literature in late Antiquity. It should be noted here that Steinschneider uses the term “national literature” (“Nationalliteratur”) exclusively in the sense of “collective literature” not authored by individuals. “Nationalliteratur” is for Stein- schneider not equivalent to the sum of the literary products of authors belonging to one nation in the sense Zunz used this term earlier. It is interesting to see, however, that the theory about the collective character of ancient Jewish literature yielded unexpected side effects. If ancient Jewish literature was essentially “collective,” perforce Stein- schneider had to exclude Hellenistic Greek literature (Philo, Josephus, or the poet Ezekiel) from the canon of “Jewish national literature” in the ﬁrst period of its history. He mentions them in “Jüdische Lite- ratur” only in passing,34 not quite knowing what to do with them, presumably because they did not tally his model of the development of ancient Jewish literature. Midrash, as the dominant form of ancient Jewish literature, is characterized by a strong inner relation to the literature of the Bible35 and by its fundamentally unsystematic form of presentation.36 It was, however,

31 JL/E, p. 2 (JL/G, p. 358). 32 JL/E, p. 3 (JL/G, p. 358). 33 JL/E, p. 4 (JL/G, p. 359: “die eigentliche Nationalliteratur von mehr als einem Jahrtausend, für die sich wol in keiner andern ein Analogon finden dürfte”). 34 See, e.g., JL/E, pp. 4 and 123 (JL/G, pp. 359 and 408). 35 JL/E, p. 6 (JL/G, p. 360). 36 JL/E, p. 6: “In the older periods the most varied subjects are blended with each other, from the highest questions of the philosophy of the day, to the most indifferent things of common life” (JL/G, p. 360). 162 reimund leicht highly productive and did not lose its “creative power” until the arrival of Arabic science.37 Now it is interesting to see that among the two branches of midrashic literature—Halakhah and Aggadah—the latter undoubtedly receives Steinschneider’s more sympathetic treatment.38 In contrast to Halakhah, which binds human action, Aggadah represents thought “as being without the sphere of duty”: Thought “produced by Revelation and Reason” becomes “the living internal law”, and “[t]hus free, in contrast to all law, and limited only in herself, [. . .] [she] has always found her expression in Judaism.” Moreover, “Hag- gada in connexion with Halacha” generated among other things “also the commencement of individual sciences, which form the transition from Halacha to special Haggada,”39 while “general Haggada” differenti- ates into ethics, metaphysics, and history. “Special Haggada,” on the other hand, deals with biblical exposition. In view of the enormous creativity of the Midrash it comes as no surprise that Steinschneider concludes his paragraph on Aggadah with the statement that “this brief development might justify the assertion made above, that a more intimate acquaintance with the Midrash literature, in which nearly all the mental energy of a people, equal at least in this respect to its contemporaries, is concentrated and reflected throughout more than 1000 years, is worth, and actually needs, a lengthened and unprejudiced examination of details.”40 The most important factor for the transition to the second period in the history of Jewish literature was, according to Steinschneider’s model, the advent of Arabic science. The arrival of the Arabs on the stage of history in the geonic period “formed the first seeds of the new Arabian science,” and when they gradually became universal they even “arrested the living creative power of the Midrash.”41 The impact of Arabic culture on Judaism thus led to the vanishing of the Midrash and the creation of a new Jewish literature, which can be distinguished from the former period by five characteristics: it is a literature written in “the Dispersion”; produced “under the influence of different nation- alities and languages”; it “proceeded more from literature than from

37 JL/E, pp. 5–6 ( JL/G, p. 360). 38 Cf. for the following discussion JL/E, pp. 28–31 (JL/G, pp. 370–71). 39 JL/E, p. 33 (JL/G, p. 372). 40 JL/E, p. 54 (JL/G, pp. 381–82). 41 JL/E, p. 60 (JL/G, p. 384). moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 163 life”; it is “in general richer and more diversified” than the previous period; and, finally, it is a written and not an oral literature.42 In sum, the entire structure of Steinschneider’s description of the second period of Jewish literature is based upon the assumption that ancient Jewish literature in both of its branches—Halakhah and Aggadah—inevitably underwent a process of fundamental transformation under the influence of Arab culture. This process was less far- reaching in Halakhah, where it mainly prompted the creation of new literary forms and “the transition to independent systematic works.”43 But, as Steinschneider tries to show in the paragraph described below, the consequences for the domain of human knowledge formerly covered by the Aggadah were dramatic. “Jüdische Literatur” contains a long paragraph on the background, development, and historical significance of the so-called Maimonid- ean controversy (§11).44 This long dissertation might seem at first sight unfitting in the context of a general historical survey of Jewish literature, but, when read more carefully, the relevance of this description of the “conflict between science and Haggada”45 within Steinschneider’s concept of the history of Jewish literature becomes immediately clear: Steinschneider believes that the Maimonidean controversy was the very painful historical process in which the different branches of Jew- ish literature formerly covered by Aggadah gained independence. This ultimately led to the reorganization of the whole of Jewish literature and science. Previously, “the scattered precepts of the national Haggadah,” Stein- schneider explains, “did not, like Divine jurisprudence of the Halacha, take the form of a distinct theory, but were moulded by their connexion with the Bible into the Midrash,”46 and “the Haggada comprised the objects of the most various sciences; not however in a scientific form.”47 However, “when through the agency of Arabian science Muhammed- anism began to discuss the highest religious questions in a rationalistic manner,” Judaism became “conscious of a severance between faith

42 JL/E, p. 61 (JL/G, p. 384). 43 JL/E, p. 67 (JL/G, p. 387). 44 JL/E, pp. 82–94 (JL/G, pp. 393–96). 45 The importance Steinschneider attributed to this part of his essay is further strengthened by the fact that it is one of the few paragraphs he thoroughly reworked in the English translation. 46 JL/E, p. 83 (JL/G, p. 393). 47 JL/E, p. 82 (JL/G, p. 393). 164 reimund leicht and knowledge.”48 This process had direct bearings upon the development of Jewish literature, because “the essence of the Midrash [. . .] was for the first time set free; and its contents, disengaged from the tangled web of the Haggada, were formed on a scientific foundation.”49 Arabic science thus functioned as a catalyst for the emancipation of the different branches of science from the domination of the “national spirit” prevalent in the oral midrashic tradition. Arabic culture thus brought forth a civilization within Judaism that made possible the formation of “individual minds,” of “writers, composers, and separate sciences, properly so called.”50 This historical process was neither an easy nor a peaceful one. Quite to the contrary, Steinschneider insists that “this opposition between the national and the individual elements could not fail to give rise to a conflict, which beginning in Arabia was renewed wherever they came into contact.”51 Because the fields of knowledge covered by the Agga- dah in the first period and by independent sciences in the second were basically identical, the emancipation of the latter led almost inevitably to a “conflict between science and Haggada.” This conflict broke out for the first time in the eighth century when the Karaites contested the validity of the Halakhah, thus raising “in the last instance [. . .] the question which runs through the whole history of religion, concerning the relation between Reason and Revelation.”52 In twelfth- century Spain, the estrangement of Jewish philosophers from Judaism prompted similar results, and at the end of that century, the Maimo- nidean controversy made visible the inevitable conflict between the new independent sciences and the older Aggadah. Each and every line in Steinschneider’s essay exudes the deep sympathy he felt toward this process and the fact that he regarded it as an emancipation of the sciences and a positive historical process that would ultimately be crowned by success. He upheld this fundamental optimism in spite of the appearance of certain “negative” phenomena

48 JL/E, p. 83 (JL/G, pp. 393–94). 49 JL/E, p. 83 (JL/G, p. 394). 50 JL/E, p. 83 (JL/G, p. 394). 51 JL/E, p. 83 (JL/G, p. 394). 52 JL/E, p. 84 (JL/G, p. 394). Steinschneider clearly adheres here to the assumption that the polemics between Karaites and Rabbanites played a seminal role in the intellectual formation of medieval Judaism, although he subordinates this conflict to the larger conflict between Arabic science and the old Aggadah. moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 165 in the history of Jewish literature, such as the formation of Kabbalah, which hampered the influence of scientific thinking upon Jewish culture.53 The conflict between traditional Aggadah and science therefore continued throughout this entire period, though in its final phase (fourteenth and fifteenth centuries), “political events, the newly formed Kabbala, the revival of classical literature in Italy, the decline of Jew- ish civilization in Spain, and the greater interest in Christian literature occasioned by the polemics of both parties, turned the thoughts of individual minds in different directions.”54 The long paragraph on the “conflict between science and Hag- gada” thus appears to be an essential element of Steinschneider’s concept of the history of Jewish literature in the Middle Ages. It is not a digression but the point on which Steinschneider’s entire concept of medieval Jewish literature hinges, since the accentuation of the role of the Maimonidean controversy allows Steinschneider to interpret the development of different branches of medieval Jewish literature as organic ramifications of the old Aggadah after they were set free from the tutelage of tradition under the emancipating influence of Arabic science. Like many other scholars of the Wissenschaft des Judentums in the nineteenth century, Steinschneider was convinced that Jewish literature reached its apogee in the medieval period, such that the subsequent, third, period could not be anything but, “in general, one of decay.”55 In Steinschneider’s view, this meant that this was a period of decline in the production of scientific literature. But even if post-medieval Juda- ism was only a dim reflection of brighter days, he still emphasizes that the Jewish literature of this period was not totally disconnected from the progress of European culture in general. He states that the connexion of the Jewish development with the general change from mediaeval to modern science is difficult and obscure, and will become clear only after the issue of the struggle now going on within it, if indeed any issue can be expected without a general revolution of the world, such as took place in former epochs. We ourselves stand too completely within the circle of modern times, and are in other respects not yet sufficiently free from the influences of the middle ages, to be able to describe

53 JL/E, p. 92 (JL/G, p. 396). 54 JL/E, pp. 93–94 (JL/G, p. 396). 55 JL/E, p. 1 (JL/G, p. 358). 166 reimund leicht

all the characteristics and features of the movements in Jewish literature which have followed the course of European civilization.56 In other words, Steinschneider was convinced that Jews participated in various ways in the new movements in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, such that the learned Jews turned “from Arabic science and scholasticism to the pure fountain-head, classical and Hebrew literature.”57 A more pervasive influence of the new movement upon the development of Jewish literature was hampered, however, by the (internal) lack of freedom of Jewish literature from theology and the (external) “spiritual and temporal oppression.”58 Steinschneider therefore concludes his general survey of the third period with a vehement call for the political and social emancipation of the Jews, and, at the same time, for the liberation of Jewish literature from its ghettoization in modern science.59 In sum, it becomes clear that the leitmotif of Steinschneider’s entire concept of a history of Jewish literature in “Jüdische Literatur” is the gradual emancipation of different branches of human knowledge, of sciences (“Wissenschaften”) from one another and from the hegemony of tradition. The measuring stick according to which a given historical period can be characterized as one of progress or decline is the degree to which human knowledge can freely develop and differentiate into independent branches of scientific literature. This is the reason why the “medieval” period, with its rich scientific literature, becomes for Steinschneider the apogee of the entire history of Jewish literature. Later periods with less scientific activity cannot be considered anything other than periods of decline. Steinschneider’s concept of the history of Jewish literature in his essay “Jüdische Literatur” is thus characterized by a strong emphasis on the development of the sciences. Science is the telos of human history, and the development of independent sciences is the touchstone for historical progress. For the formulation of his concept of Jewish literature, Stein- schneider evidently adopted many ideas found in Zunz’s work. Long

56 JL/E, pp. 204–205 (JL/G, p. 448). 57 JL/E, p. 205 (JL/G, p. 448). The German original adds the words “which is to be seen as the crucial turning-point in the history of literature” (“die als der entschei- dende Wendepunkt der Literaturgeschichte überhaupt zu betrachten ist”). 58 JL/E, p. 206 (JL/G, p. 449). 59 JL/E, p. 210 (JL/G, p. 451). moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 167 before Steinschneider, Zunz had already argued that Jewish literature originates in a “connected organism,” which can be called “nationality.” He had pinpointed the role of the Midrash as the dominant literary form of ancient Jewish literature, highlighted the historical importance of Arabic science for Jewish literature, and depicted religious tradition as basically negative. But Steinschneider reshapes these motifs and integrates them in a model which posits science, and not Spirit, as the core of historical progress. Nowhere in this text does Steinschneider make the slightest attempt to adopt Zunz’s Hegelian view that the Jewish nation and its literature is the product of the activity of “divine Spirit.” Rather, he adheres to a post-idealistic outlook, reminiscent of the positivistic trends of the mid-nineteenth century.

3. Steinschneider’s “Allgemeine Einleitung in die Jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters” Lectures

If the analysis of the essay “Jüdische Literatur” has shown that, as early as 1847, Steinschneider developed a concept of a history of Jew- ish literature that was clearly distinct from that of his teacher Zunz, this trend became even stronger in his lectures entitled “Allgemeine Einleitung in die Jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters.” Before entering into a reconstruction of Steinschneider’s concept of the history of Jewish literature in the “Allgemeine Einleitung,” a few words should be devoted to the history of this text. Steinschneider tells us in the preface that the lectures were originally delivered at the Veitel-Heine- Ephraim’sche Lehranstalt in the years 1859–1897, and then revised for publication in 1895. Almost a decade later, in 1903–1905, they were finally published in the Jewish Quarterly Review.60 A text that was used and revised over a period of more than forty years makes it difficult to determine when a certain opinion, theory, or idea was first thought and formulated, and whether certain other ideas were perhaps later abandoned by its author. It will be seen that the lectures are far from being a unified literary composition. On the other hand, Steinschneider’s usage of the same material for lectures delivered over

60 The “Allgemeine Einleitung” was never translated into English. Reprint editions were published in Jerusalem (Bamberger and Wahrmann, 1933) and Amsterdam (Philo Press, 1966). 168 reimund leicht decades indicates that his general outlook on the history of Jewish literature in the Middle Ages did not change substantially, even though the possibility of modifications cannot be ruled out. It is with this caveat in mind that we will try to reconstruct Steinschneider’s concept of the history of Jewish literature from the “Allgemeine Einleitung.” Unlike “Jüdische Literatur,” the “Allgemeine Einleitung” is not an encyclopedic description of Jewish literature. Rather, it focuses on various methodological aspects related to the scientific study of medieval Jewish literature. Unfortunately, it is sometimes difficult to uncover Steinschneider’s intentions in his lectures, because they are obscured by their structure. It becomes quite clear, however, that the first four sections on “Nationality,” “Geographical Conditions,” “Religion,” and “Political Conditions” are meant to lay the foundation for the more detailed expositions in the latter three sections, on “Culture,” “Lan- guages,” and the “Encyclopedic Development of Single Subjects.” Within the limits of the present paper, only a few aspects directly related to Steinschneider’s concept of a history of Jewish literature can be mentioned. In the first section, on the nation (“Nationalität”), Steinschneider tackles the problematic concept of the Jewish people as the agent of the history of Jewish literature: if there is anything like “Jewish literature” in the Middle Ages, Steinschneider argues, it must necessarily be the product of a nation, i.e., the Jewish people. But were the Jews in the Middle Ages a nation?61 Similarly to his position in “Jüdische Literatur,” Steinschneider again takes a carefully balanced stance regarding this problem: Yes, he says, historically seen, the Jews were a nation in the Middle Ages, even if they only partially fulfilled the three essential criteria of a nation, i.e, a common origin (“Abstam- mung”), a common native country (“Vaterland”), and a common language (“Sprache”). They were a nation, and they thus could be the agent of a literary history of their own. But they could not do so in the full sense of the word. The Jews were in fact a “hermaphrodite” (“Zwitterwesen”), they lived the life of an “amphibian” (“Amphibien- leben”), and this deeply influenced their historical development.62 For Steinschneider, the national paradigm as a basis for a literary history of the Jews is valid, but it always remained a problematic one.

61 AE, XV, p. 303. 62 AE, XV, p. 304. moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 169

Steinschneider’s statements about religion in the third section are also of considerable interest for our purposes. Here, Steinschneider bluntly declares that the “religious development is the true final aim of Jewish history,”63 but at the same time he insists that the basic religious ideas cannot develop and cannot be “reformed.”64 Conse- quently, real development within a religion is impossible, and historical progress can only be compared to the “awakening of the child’s spirit to self-awareness.”65 This “awakening” is a constant struggle of “science” (“Wissen”) against “belief” (“Glauben”), of “internal authority” against “external authority,” and it takes place both in the development of individuals and in that of entire peoples.66 The Jewish people is no exception in this respect, so that the development of rationalism -profane Wis“ ,חכמה חיצונית) ”and of the concept of “secular science senschaft”) within Judaism can also be interpreted as an awakening of the people to “self-awareness.” Although Steinschneider does not mention any sources for this worldview, the motifs he employs again reveal a heavy indebtedness to nineteenth-century positivism, which also finds its expression in the fifth section of the “Allgemeine Einleitung.” In this section, dealing with “culture” (“Kultur”), he summarizes, in a clearly positivistic vein, the results of the previous sections, saying: “Nationality is a general formation, the organism of the subject; the geographical circumstances are the physical conditions, for the Jews indirectly the external conditions; the religion is the objective direction of the spirit, the political conditions are the scope for the activity of the individual in his relation to the whole,”67 and then he adds: “Culture” is the “activity of spirit itself,” the “realization of the spirit under the given conditions.” Now,

63 AE, XV, p. 305: “Religiöse Entwicklung ist der eigentliche Endzweck der jüdischen Geschichte.” 64 AE, XV, p. 306: “Religiöse Grundideen entwickeln sich nicht, und die ‘Religion’ kann nicht ‘reformirt’ werden.” 65 AE, XV, p. 306: “Die Bewegung, die wir wahrnehmen, ist analog dem Erwachen des kindlichen Geistes zum Selbstbewußtsein.” 66 AE, XV, p. 304: “Es gibt auf dem Gebiet der Religionsgeschichte nur einen wesentlichen Kampf, das ist der Kampf des Wissens mit dem Glauben, der Kampf der inneren Autorität mit der äusseren, sowohl in den Individuen, bei der Reife des Kindes zum Manne, wie in den Völkern bei ihrer Entwicklung.“Cf. also AE, XV, p. 307: “Alle grossen Kämpfe auf dem Felde des Geistes sind Kämpfe für die Ver- nunft, gegen die Autorität: alle kleinlichen einer Autorität gegen die andere.” 67 AE, XV, p. 311: “Die Nationalität ist ein allgemeiner Verband, der Organismus des Subjekts; die geographischen Verhältnisse sind physische Bedingungen, bei den Juden mittelbar die Bedingungen nach aussen; die Religion ist die objektive Richtung 170 reimund leicht

“since literature in itself is part of culture [. . .] the study of culture is the main foundation for the study of literature [. . .]. Through culture nations are identified. Cultural history is the true aim of world history, because it is the aim of all activity of the spirit.”68 At first glance, this passage seems to reverberate with concepts of German idealism, but this would be a misunderstanding of Stein- schneider’s intentions. His usage of the term “spirit” (“Geist”) has no idealistic overtones, since, in clear opposition to both speculative philosophy and purely descriptive historiography, Steinschneider con- tends that “history is not philosophical schematism (Hegel) or political pragmatism (Rotteck).” Rather, as Steinschneider himself states, the English historians Henry Thomas Buckle (1821–1862) and Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800–1859) are to be seen as ideal paradigms for the writing of cultural history.69 Steinschneider thus explicitly sides in the “Allgemeine Einleitung” with two historians who belong to the positivistic strand of historiography, and who were quite influential in Europe in the mid-nineteenth century. Only later did they lose the battle—in Germany, at least—against the historistic school of Johann Gustav Droysen (1808–1886), Leopold von Ranke (1795– 1886), Theodor Mommsen (1817–1903) and Heinrich von Treitschke (1834–1896), and become largely marginalized in the second half of the century.70 Steinschneider couples this positivistic approach with borrowings from German classicism, when he constructs the rest of the fifth section on “culture”71 according to the famous “human trias” of “the good, the des Geistes, die politischen Verhältnisse sind der Spielraum für die Thätigkeit des Einzelnen im Verhältnis zum Ganzen.” 68 AE, XV, pp. 311–12: “Die Kultur ist die Thätigkeit des Geistes selbst (etwa Hegel’s ‘Substanz des Geistes’), also die Verwirklichung des Geistes unter gegebenen Bedingungen, und da die Literatur selbst ein Teil der Kultur ist, also hier das eng- ste Verhältnis zwischen beiden stattfindet, so ist überall die Kulturbetrachtung die Hauptgrundlage für die Anschauung der Literatur, also beide gegenseitige Hilfsmittel. Durch Kultur kennzeichnet man Nationen. Kulturgeschichte ist das eigentliche Ziel aller Geistesthätigkeit.” 69 AE, XV, p. 312: “Die Geschichte ist nicht philosophischer Schematismus (Hegel) oder politischer Pragmatismus (Rotteck);—wie Kulturgeschichte zu schreiben ist, zeigt uns Buckle, der sich freilich frühzeitig zu Tode studirt hat, und schon Macaulay in einigen Kapiteln seines ersten Bandes.” Steinschneider refers in this passage to the historian Karl von Rotteck (1775–1840). 70 On Steinschneider and Buckle cf. also Jehudah Reinhartz/Yaacov Shavit, Dar- win and Some of his Kind: Evolution, race environment and culture. Jews read Darwin, Spence, Buckle and Renan (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv: Ha-Qibbutz ha-Mexuad, 2010), pp. 170–71. 71 AE, XV, pp. 312–29; XVI, pp. 373–80. moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 171 true and the beautiful” (“das Gute, das Wahre, das Schöne”). Ideally, all three aspects should be harmoniously developed in the culture of a nation,72 but although Judaism has neglected some aspects of culture, most notably “the beautiful,” all of them are represented in various degrees and forms in Jewish history. In order to illustrate this, Stein- schneider provides an outline of Jewish law, political institutions, family life, and customs under the heading of “the good and noble” (“das Gute und Edle”),73 followed by a brief description of the different forms of literary activity and erudition (“Literärgeschichte,” “Geschichte der verschiedenen Wissenschaften,” “Literaturgeschichte,” “Geschichte der Erudition und Bildung”) subsumed under the title of the “idea of the true” (“Idee des Wahren”),74 and of art (“das Schöne”) as documented in historical monuments, coins, architecture, and cemeteries.75 The Jews, Steinschneider implicitly argues, are a “Kulturnation.” Little needs to be said here about the sixth and largest section of the “Allgemeine Einleitung,” which is devoted to the languages of Jewish culture,76 and suffice it to say that Steinschneider considers language as the “form, without which the spirit would remain something [as inaccessible as] the thing-in-itself.”77 The final, seventh, section of “Allge- meine Einleitung,” however, is again of more interest. It bears the title “Encyclopedic Development of Single Disciplines” (“Encyklopädische Entwicklung einzelner Fächer”),78 but in fact it falls into two different parts. The first one is an in nuce introduction to medieval Jewish literature,79 whereas the second part represents a concise outline of the Maimonidean controversy and its role within the history of Jewish literature.80 Repetitions of what has been said before and the abrupt transition from the first to the second subject of this section make

72 AE, XV, p. 312: “Das Ziel der Kultur ist die harmonische Entwicklung der Kräfte.” 73 AE, XV, pp. 314–20. 74 AE, XV, pp. 320–23. 75 AE, XV, pp. 323–29, and XVI, pp. 373–80. 76 AE, XVI, pp. 380–95 and 734–64. 77 AE, XVI, pp. 380–81: “Wir haben bisher den Weg vom Abstracten zum Con- kreten genommen, in der Kulturfrage die Antwort erhalten, ob und inwieweit die Juden ein Kulturvolk genannt zu werden verdienten. Wir haben die Kultur als Sub- stanz des Geistes bezeichnet; zu ihr verhält sich die Sprache wie die Form, ohne welche der Geist ein Ding an sich bliebe.” 78 AE, XVII, pp. 148–62 and 354–69. 79 AE, XVII, pp. 148–62. 80 AE, XVII, pp. 354–69. 172 reimund leicht it likely that the last section of the “Allgemeine Einleitung” actually consists of two different lectures, which were artiﬁcially united under a single heading. Be that as it may, Steinschneider here returns to the problem of the nation as the agent of medieval Jewish literature. With an eye to contemporary discussions about the national character of Judaism he states again that “medieval Judaism nolens volens formed a nationality,”81 explicitly leaving the hotly debated question about the identity of modern Jews unanswered. Also Steinschneider’s strong orientation toward the history of the sciences, manifested elsewhere in his works, recurs in this concluding part of the “Allgemeine Einleitung.” Conceptually speaking, Steinschneider says, medieval Jewish literature is to be divided into two branches, “positive theology” and “rational philosophy,” with the Kabbalah mediating between the two. “Positive theology” consists of the “study of Scripture” (“Schriftkunde”) and “religious dogmas” (“Religionslehre”), whereas “rational philosophy” is either natural philosophy, the predecessor of modern science, or logic.82 At this point, Steinschneider has to concede that Jewish literature seems to be rather poor; its bulk belongs to “theology with a monotony, which has scared off many,” and the non-theological literature has often been discarded as being basically non-Jewish.83 Steinschneider, however, considers this approach to be objectionable; non-religious literature must not be separated from Jewish literature in general, since “the history of sciences can only be constructed from special literatures,”84 i.e., also the Jewish one. In other words, once again Steinschneider attempts to reinsert the perspective of the history of sciences into the center of his history of Jewish literature, so that he is able to conclude the paragraph with a statement that stresses the Jewish contribution to the history of sciences: “The Jews as constant, and not dumb, witnesses of history have preserved things which would otherwise have remained unknown.”85

81 AE, XVII, p. 149: “Die praktische Auﬂösung dieser Frage für die Gegenwart überlassen wir der Theologie; eine unparteiische Geschichtsforschung muss zugeben, dass das mittelalterliche Judentum nolens volens eine Nationalität bildete, und noch jetzt sind ‘nicht alle frei, die ihrer Ketten spotten.’” 82 AE, XVII, p. 151. 83 AE, XVII, p. 151. 84 AE, XVII, p. 151. 85 AE, XVII, p. 151: “Die Geschichte der Wissenschaften kann nur aus besonderen Literaturkreisen construirt werden; letztere müssen als Selbstzweck studiert werden, um die Resultate ihrer Forschungen abzugeben. Die Juden als fortwährende, und moritz steinschneider’s concept of the history 173

Also in the subsequent paragraphs he revisits the central motifs he had developed earlier regarding the role of science in the history of Jewish literature, and reiterates his opinion that Arabic science in the eighth century played a crucial role for the development of Kara- ism and the awakening of scientific thinking among the Jews. Finally, the last paragraphs of the seventh section are devoted to a detailed account of the Maimonidean controversy, which has close parallels in §11 of “Jüdische Literatur.”86 There is no need to analyze it in greater detail here, because Steinschneider’s interpretation of the controversy in the “Allgemeine Einleitung” does not substantially differ from the earlier account, but the fact that he allotted such a prominent place to the conflict between science and religion in these lectures testifies to the enormous importance Steinschneider attributed to this historical turning point of Jewish culture.87

4. Conclusion

Steinschneider’s essay “Jüdische Literatur” and the “Allgemeine Ein- leitung in die Jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters” are valuable sources for the reconstruction of Moritz Steinschneider’s concept of the history of Jewish literature. The analysis of these texts could be enriched by a close comparison with Steinschneider’s other works and articles, but the general image would remain unchanged: Steinschneider was not, or not merely, a bibliographer. He was a historian of Jewish literature who began his scientiﬁc work as a close student of Zunz. He adopted,

zwar nicht stumme Zeugen der Geschichte, haben Mansches erhalten, was sonst unbekannt geblieben wäre.” 86 JL/G, pp. 393–96; JL/E, pp. 82–94; cf. also the discussion above in section 2 of this paper. 87 AE, XVII, p. 162: “Betrachtet man die jüdische Literatur als Ganzes, so findet man auch hier, wie sonst, das 13. Jahrh. als kritisches und doppelt interessantes, sowohl in seinen eigenen Produkten als auch wegen der daraus hervorgehenden Erscheinungen. Die grosse Spannung, der Zwiespalt der Geister im 13. Jahrh. ist nicht minder bedeutend als die des 19., obwohl in den Kämpfen ein Fortschritt stattfindet, der uns veranlasst, etwas höher zurückzugreifen. Es handelt sich nämlich in der Literatur um die Auflösung der Haggada und ihre Umwandlung in verschiedene wissenschaftliche Zweige neben der Halacha.” Cf. also AE, XVII, p. 369: “Es stellte sich das Bedürfnis heraus, dem freien Inhalt der Haggada eine systematische Unterlage zu geben durch die ‘profane’ Wissenschaft; die Theologie wird systematisch, die Exegese teilt sich in verschiedene Tendenzen.” 174 reimund leicht wherever possible, his teacher’s opinions, but he had an independent mind. As early as 1847, in his the essay on “Jüdische Literatur,” he displays a distinctive scholarly profile. In contrast to Zunz, who largely belongs to the intellectual world of Enlightenment and the Age of Ide- alism, Steinschneider’s approach is predominantly “science-oriented.” In spite of occasional references to and terminological borrowings from idealistic philosophy, Steinschneider’s guideline for structuring the history of Jewish literature was the idea of progress—the progress of human culture, human knowledge, and, concomitantly, of the sciences. The ultimate victory of free scientific investigation over the dominance of religious authority is the aim of history, and the development of different branches of literature in the Jewish Middle Ages is consequently portrayed as the outcome of a process of scientific emancipation and differentiation. Steinschneider’s scientific orientation and his belief in historical progress derived from his strongly positivistic Weltanschauung. He regarded religion and other forms of pre-scientific thinking as phases of childhood to be overcome by the maturity of scientific thinking. In view of this strong proclivity toward positivistic ideas, which permeates all of Steinschneider’s works, it comes as no surprise that he strongly identified with the methods of Henry Thomas Buckle and Thomas Babington Macaulay and praised them as ideal paradigms for any form of cultural history. One even wonders whether Steinschneider had read anything of Auguste Comte (1798–1857), although he does not mention him in any prominent place. In a historical perspective, however, Steinschneider had to pay a high price for taking this position. Positivism was a respected intellectual trend during his days, but with the vanishing of the positivistic school in historiography and the decline of positivistic thinking in general the basis for a proper understanding of Steinschneider’s scientific motives disappeared. The carefully collected treasury of historical information intended for the construction of a comprehensive history of Jewish literature fell apart into a random assemblage of data devoid of any inner coherence. This made it all the more suitable for exploitation by later generations, but if we look back at the last hundred years of the scientific study of Hebrew literature and its exploitation of Steinschneider’s work, it appears to have been the ignorance of the conceptual foundation of his scientific project that turned the historian of Jewish literature into nothing more than the father of Hebrew bibliography. 7. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER AND THE NOBLE DREAM OF OBJECTIVITY

Nils Roemer

Introduction: Steinschneider’s Dream of Objectivity in the Eyes of His Critics

When Moritz Steinschneider died in January 1907, he had published some 1,400 items dedicated to the exploration of the interrelationship between Jewish and general history during the Middle Ages. His publications encompassed the history of science, medicine, philosophy, chess, as well as folk literature; in various libraries and subject catalogues he also unearthed a wealth of past Jewish creativity.1 Although never achieving Heinrich Graetz’s passionate style and dramatic reconstruction of the Jewish past, Steinschneider nevertheless left an indelible mark on the formation and subsequent discipline of Jewish Studies. For many scholars, Steinschneider represented the quintessential, objective scientist towering in his knowledge above all other participants in the Wissenschaft des Judentums.2 Indeed, most other nineteenth- century Jewish historians wrote their works as weapons in the battles for emancipation and religious and cultural modernization. In his youth, Steinschneider had initially contributed to these debates as well, but then eventually distanced himself from contemporary issues. Moreover, a distinctly terse, pragmatic, and detached prose came to characterize most of his work, severely limiting his readership. Overtly disinterested in infusing contemporary Jewish culture with an account of the past, Steinschneider seemed at times to approach Jewish history as a closed chapter. His detractors therefore came to see him as the gravedigger who provided Judaism with a decent burial.

1 George Alexander Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Professor Dr. Moritz Steinschneider,” pp. v–xxxix in Festschrift zum Achtzigsten Geburtstage Moritz Steinschneider’s (Leipzig, 1896), and the additions to the bibliography in Zeitschrift für hebräische Bibliog- raphie 5 (1901): 189–91; 9 (1905): 90–92; 13 (1909): 94–95. 2 “Moritz Steinschneider,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 71 (Feb. 1, 1907): 49–50, and “Prof. Moritz Steinschneider,” Israelitisches Familienblatt 10:5 ( Jan. 31, 1907): 5. 176 nils roemer

This characterization is based on an oft-cited conversation between Steinschneider and Gotthold Weil (1882–1960), the young Zionist, Orientalist and later director of the Oriental Department of the Staats- bibliothek in Berlin. Weil recorded this appellation in his necrology, published in a German Zionist periodical shortly after Steinschneider’s death. Weil’s account was part of the ongoing critical engagement with the legacy of the Wissenschaft des Judentums among Zionist and other critics and therefore should be taken with a grain of salt. More importantly, even Weil emphasized Steinschneider’s “warm heart” for the Jews and recognized the latter’s battle to disentangle the Wissen- schaft from established parties, communities, and societies.3 Whether Steinschneider actually ever described himself as a gravedigger or not remains uncertain, but he did become almost entirely identified with this view once Gershom Scholem attributed to him the line in Weil’s account.4 Yet even Scholem, one of the fiercest critics of nineteenth- century Jewish scholarship, admired and respected Steinschneider’s achievements, deeming him in the same article “one of the most significant scholars the Jewish people ever produced . . .”5 In the Hebrew version of his autobiography, Scholem conceded that he certainly revered Steinschneider’s work, which he intensively studied throughout his life.6 In Scholem’s account, his appreciation for Steinschneider coexisted with a critical distance. Indeed, even in his fierce attack on the Wissenschaft during the 1940s, the rebellious Zionist scholar of Jewish mysticism contended that Zunz and Steinschneider were “daemons,” the representatives of the ambivalent genii of Jewish history, whose creative work had nevertheless harbored a self-destructive element.7 To be sure, their historicist approach undoubtedly relativized the status of texts by placing them in their historical and geographical contexts. Yet even here Scholem remained mindful that this form of destruction had its creative side as well, for it liberated tradition from

3 Gotthold Weil, “Moritz Steinschneider,” Jüdische Rundschau 12:6 (Feb. 8, 1907): 53–55. 4 Gershom Scholem, “The Science of Judaism—Then and Now,” in The Messi- anic Idea in Judaism and Other Essays in Jewish Spirituality (New York: Schocken, 1995), pp. 304–313, here p. 307. 5 Ibid., p. 306. 6 G. Scholem, Mi-Berlin li-Yerushalayim (Tel Aviv: {Am {Oved, 1982), p. 141. 7 G. Scholem, “Mi-tokh hirhurim {al hokhmat yisrael,” in Explications and Implications: Writings on Jewish Heritage and Renaissance (Tel Aviv: {Am {Oved, 1982), pp. 385–403, here p. 391. moritz steinschneider and the noble dream of objectivity 177 its narrow religious conﬁnes by reintroducing strands that had become marginalized in the course of history. Later critics, however, enfeebled Scholem’s nuanced view. Even historians who defended the Wissen- schaft’s fruits, like Gerson D. Cohen (1924–1991), were at a loss when it came to Steinschneider. Cohen’s line of defense, as found in an article in the Yearbook of the Leo Baeck Institute during the 1970s, probably marks the lowest point in the appreciation of the great Jewish bibliographer. Cohen postulated that scholarship cannot be entirely objective and without a Tendenz, but argued that the real question was what Wissenschaft scholars had hoped to accomplish with their research and publications. Judged by this standard, Steinschneider, “the would-be mortician of Jewish learning and literature . . . was a maverick in many ways . . .,” and Cohen felt compelled to ask, “why should a culture be evaluated by its eccentrics?”8 What remained was the image of Stein- schneider as a tired and tiring, idiosyncratic and isolated oddball.

Steinschneider and His Contemporaries in Context: The Idea of Objectivity at the Turn of the Nineteenth Century and the Question of the Institutionalization of Jewish Scholarship

The critical assessment of Steinschneider’s work at the turn of the nineteenth century was part of a much wider fascination and engagement with scholarship and the value of objectivity in general, when realism dominated literary and visual culture. The ideals of realist painters like Constable, Courbet, and the early Max Liebermann— impartiality, objectivity, and their rejection of a priori metaphysical or epistemological prejudices—had as their counterpart the idealization of Leopold Ranke (1795–1886) at the fin de siècle. With a strong belief in the natural sciences, objectivity had become a highly valued currency during the last decades of the nineteenth century.9 Far from being an innocent and descriptive category, the notion of objectivity served to legitimize both a new aesthetic and the scientific credentials of scholarly disciplines, thereby reflecting different values, presuppositions,

8 Gerson D. Cohen, “German Jewry as a Mirror to Modernity,” LBIYB 20 (1975): ix–xxix, here p. xxv. 9 Peter Novick, That Noble Dream: The “Objectivity Question” and the American Historical Profession (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), pp. 21–46. 178 nils roemer and ideologies. Moreover, as I want to argue here, the debated issue of objectivity profoundly affected the way Steinschneider’s work was received and is still seen to this day. Steinschneider’s eulogies indeed reverberate with the fierce nineteenth-century debates about the nature of Jewish scholarship and about the ideals of detachment and objectivity. These debates took shape in the critical exchanges over Heinrich Graetz (1817–1891) in the aftermath of the Berliner Antisemitismusstreit and in the Zionist rebel- lion against the ideals of bourgeois German Jewry. These disputes display much more nuanced and reflective scholarly practices than those captured by the often-stated view that places Steinschneider in opposition to Graetz. In this context it should be remembered that, like Leo- pold Zunz (1794–1886), Steinschneider staunchly refused to associate himself with any of the rabbinical seminaries. Rather, he heralded the ideal of objectivity and academic freedom, and criticized both the merging of scholarship with theology and the popularization of science. Yet the casting of Steinschneider as the Jewish representative of a simplified Rankean tradition has obstructed a better understanding of his legacy. To varying degrees, all nineteenth-century historians subscribed to the noble dream of objectivity and remained aware of the political, social, and cultural ramifications of their scholarship. Steinschneider was no exception. During the 1840s, when the campaigns for emancipation and reform intensified and converged, the young Steinschneider prepared himself for a career in the rabbinate, working actively for the rejuvenation of Judaism and supporting the efforts of Zacharias Frankel (1801–1875). He believed that science ought to be introduced into Frankel’s religious journal (Zeitschrift für die Religiösen Interessen des Judenthums) because “science is too much the element of life of Judaism” to be left out.10 In the aftermath of 1848, Steinschneider changed course, devoting himself instead to seeking for Jewish scholarship a place in the world of German academia.11 He opined that the disinterested, philological approach was

10 Moritz Steinschneider, “Zur Wissenschaft des Judenthums. Zur Chronologie, Geschichte und Legende der Juden aus orientalischen Quellen. 1. Jüdische Chronik nach Hamza el Isfahani,” Zeitschrift für die religiösen Interessen des Judenthums 3 (1846): 271–278 and 321–328, here p. 271. 11 Alexander Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” in Salo Baron and A. Marx, eds., Jew- ish Studies in Memory of George A. Kohut, 1874–1933 (New York: The Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1935), pp. 492–527, here p. 521. See also the letter by Stein- moritz steinschneider and the noble dream of objectivity 179 the only way for university scholars to gain respect. To be disengaged was therefore a form of engagement for Steinschneider. Throughout his life, he remained true to this conviction that the exclusion of Jewish Studies from German universities perpetuated a state of inequality and the denigration of Judaism. In 1877, he therefore charged that “the greatest injustice of Christians consisted and still does [consist] in the fact that they have never studied Judaism either then or now for its own sake, but only because of its relationship to Christianity.”12 In his critical perspective on Christian scholarship, he was no different from Abraham Geiger, Leopold Zunz, or even Heinrich Graetz. Presenting the Jewish tradition in the widest sense as a vital component of world culture, Steinschneider equally fought against the theological positions of many Jewish scholars. To further his efforts he founded his own periodical, the Hebräische Bibliographie (1858–1882), which was exclusively devoted to scholarship. HB aimed to provide not only a critical commentary on recent publications, but to briefly take note of and summarize their contents as well.13 The creation of HB bolstered Steinschneider’s position within the realm of Jewish scholarship at a time when all other journals were becoming entrenched in different religious movements and institutions, and enmeshed in debates about religious reforms. Against these scholarly currents, he maintained that scientific research within the confines of rabbinical institutions was limiting; the only proper place for students of Jewish history was therefore the university. Steinschneider’s staunch opposition to rabbinical seminaries reflected not only his critical disdain for them, but equally his unwillingness to confine Jewish cultural expression to the Jewish sphere. Far from assuming a timid posture, Steinschneider confidently expressed his hopes to witness the acceptance of Jewish scholarship within German universities throughout his life. This did not keep him from calling Jewish literature “national.”14 The term “national,”

schneider’s old mentor Heinrich L. Fleischer to Steinschneider dated July 1, 1875, in the Moritz Steinschneider Collection 108, Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. 12 M. Steinschneider, Review of M.[atthias]J.[akob] Schleiden, Die Bedeutung der Juden für Erhaltung und Wiederbelebung der Wissenschaften im Mittelalter, HB 17 (1877): 34–35, here p. 35. 13 M. Steinschneider, “Program,” HB 1 (1858): 1–3, here p. 1. 14 Ibid., p. 2. 180 nils roemer

especially during the ongoing debates of Jewish emancipation in 1858, was, to say the least, a bold assertion of Jewish particularism. This view was exceptional: Leopold Zunz titled his work on Jewish literature Zur Geschichte und Literatur (1845), viewing the Jewish literary tradition simply as part of world literature. Steinschneider’s own in-depth survey of Jewish literature, which was composed for an encyclopedia, was governed by his notion of its national quality. Like Zunz some thirty years before, Steinschneider maintained that Jewish literature comprised everything Jews had ever written, whatever the subject, language, or geographic origin, and spanning from antiquity to the present.15 Despite this secular conception, Steinschneider was nevertheless mindful that his resolve to cover the entire literary productivity of Jews regardless of language or content hardly provided a clear definition of “Jewish literature.” Although Jewish literature resembles a conglom- erate of various origins and forms, he argued, it was an “organism.” Steinschneider based the concept of the cohesive and organic nature of Jewish literature on the posited unity of Jews and Judaism throughout history. This means that an essentialist but never explicitly articulated assumption about the nature of Jews and their tradition guided his catalogues of Jewish creativity. To Steinschneider, therefore, the record of the past reflected more than what Jews by accident had produced historically and chronicled the ongoing importance of their religious and cultural traditions on their cultural and intellectual creativity.16 The vagueness of his definition was not merely a defensive strategy; Steinschneider was fully aware that definitions of Judentum inherently maintained a certain ambiguity. Playing on the double meaning of Judentum in German—which denotes both the Jewish people and their religion—Steinschneider defined Judentum as a “religious community not sufficiently [explained], and which the term ‘nation’ just barely described.”17 He thus resisted reducing Jewish heritage to being merely a religious community, embracing instead the ambiguity of the German term.

15 M. Steinschneider, JL/G, p. 357. 16 M. Steinschneider, “Ueber die Volksliteratur der Juden,” Archiv für Literaturge- schichte 28 (1872): 1–21. The short-lived Archiv was founded by Richard Gosche (1824– 89) in 1870. 17 M. Steinschneider, JL/G, p. 357. moritz steinschneider and the noble dream of objectivity 181

In the following decades, Steinschneider continued to work at the Veitel-Heine-Ephraimsche Lehranstalt and the girls’ school of the Ber- lin Jewish community, often bemoaning the heavy workload. Yet he did not join the Jewish Theological Seminary in Breslau; similarly, he also refused an invitation to join the faculty of the Hochschule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums in Berlin in 1871, stating that he could not possibly teach there without placing himself in opposition to the Hochschule’s religious demands and goals or without renouncing his convictions. A year later, he declined another offer, this time to teach at the Budapest Rabbinical Seminary: as he explained, training institutions for rabbis promoted systematic hypocrisy and scholarly immaturity. Instead, he favored the creation of foundations designed to support Privatdozenten in Jewish Studies, in the hope that the government could gradually be induced to establish professorships.18 As a result of this standpoint he remained without an institutional basis, and consequently did not receive the place he deserved in accounts of nineteenth-century works on contemporary Jewish history.19 The changing cultural, religious, social, and political circumstances of the second half of the nineteenth century strengthened Stein- schneider in his conviction that the role of Jewish scholarship in German society was changing. At the end of the 1860s, the debate over the emancipation of the Jews had almost come to an end, and the questions of religious reform had become part of a much wider public discourse in which Jewish scholars occupied a less prominent role than before. Neither political debate nor religious reform, therefore, could provide the rationale for Jewish scholarship. Instead, Steinschneider argued for the liberation of scholarship from such goals. Moreover, he believed that restricting the study of the Jewish past by associating it with concrete social, cultural, religious, and political aims implied making it subservient to theology and public sentiment. Working in this narrowly construed perspective would lead to losing sight of the

18 A. Marx, “Moritz Steinschneider,” in Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1947), pp. 12–184, here p. 144. 19 See, e.g., Moritz Kayserling, Gedenkblätter, Hervorragende jüdische Persönlichkeiten des 19. Jahrhunderts. In kurzen Charakteristiken (Leipzig: Grieben‘s Verlag, 1892), who fails to include Steinscheider among celebrated 19th-century Jewish luminaries. See also Adolf Kohut, Geschichte der deutschen Juden: Ein Hausbuch für die jüdische Familie (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag, 1898); Simon Bernfeld, Juden und Judentum im neunzehnten Jahrhundert (Berlin: Siegfried Cronbach, 1898); and Martin Philippson, Neueste Geschichte des Jüdi- schen Volkes, 3 vols. (Leipzig: G. Fock, 1907–1911). 182 nils roemer universal signiﬁcance of the Jewish tradition and would also restrict readership exclusively to the Jewish public. Steinschneider’s detachment from rabbinic institutions and his preference for an emotionally and ideologically distanced form of writing challenged the continuing neglect of Jewish Studies at German universities. For him, the study of the Jewish past ought to have been promoted in secular and state-sponsored institutions, “since the spirit which has created these works has not yet died out, but is still alive in citizens of their state.”20 Viewing the Jewish tradition as a vital component of the German nation, he argued that the institutions of the state had to take responsibility for it. Moreover, he believed that separate Jewish institutions of higher learning were extraneous to the past that they aimed to recover. To Steinschneider, studying the Jewish past solely in Jewish institutions implied domesticating and relegating its rich legacy to a completely secluded Jewish public sphere, and thereby negating its importance. Deploring these policies of exclusion, he still exclaimed in 1893, “For the spirit there is no ghetto.”21 Steinschneider represented a minority voice within the circle of Jewish scholars. With the founding of the rabbinical seminaries, Jew- ish scholarship had now become formally associated with religious- community institutions that increasingly responded to public demands to make Jewish scholarship available to a larger readership.22 Indeed, just as he opposed the rabbinical institutions as places of modern scholarship, Steinschneider was also critical of the popularization of Jewish historiography. He continued to write in his characteristically terse fashion and encountered difﬁculties in publishing the fruits of his work, as evidenced by the fact that the Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums rejected one of his articles. In order to ensure the interest of its lay audience, Zacharias Frankel repeatedly judged submissions to the Monatsschrift himself and reworked some of them quite extensively. As he reminded Steinschneider in a letter, without its lay readership, the Monatsschrift would have had barely one hundred readers.23 To Steinschneider, such an accommodation was tantamount

20 M. Steinschneider, “Die Zukunft der jüdischen Wissenschaft,” HB 9 (1869): 76–78. 21 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, p. xxii. 22 See on this, Nils Roemer, Jewish Scholarship and Culture in Nineteenth-Century Germany: Between History and Faith (Madison: Wisconsin University Press, 2005), pp. 111–141. 23 See the letter of Dec. 26, 1851, to Steinschneider in the Moritz Steinschneider Collection, AR 108 at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, and the moritz steinschneider and the noble dream of objectivity 183 to renouncing his principles. He promptly scorned the journal, charg- ing that the “combination of edifying and strictly scholarly purposes is a hermaphrodite.”24 Steinschneider was, however, fully aware of the problems facing scholars without readers. As early as 1842, he wrote in a letter to the Orientalist Julius Fürst that the general reading public took no notice of what scholars were interested in.25 In 1862, he complained that scientific literature could prosper only if the benefactors were also the buyers of the books.26 He was equally critical of attempts to widen the readership through creating a Jewish book club: that opposition was principled, not motivated by a mere sense of intellectual snobbery. Steinschneider thus criticized Ludwig Philippson’s (1811–1889) Institute for the Promotion of Jewish Literature for its undemocratic character, claiming it catered to the lowest common denominator while disregard- ing purely scientific works for publication.27 In contrast, Steinschneider himself wrote solely for the scholar: “There are fields which can never be popularized, because comprehension presupposes a certain preparation [and] interest in them, a special intellectual bent.”28 His opposition to the popularization of Jewish scholarship might strike us as indicative of a certain degree of elitism, which went hand in hand with his fascination for Jewish intellectual history. This would be inexact, for Steinschneider did not limit his historical research to the intellectual luminaries of the distant past. Already during the 1870s he propagated the study of Jewish “everyday culture” [Alltagskultur],

letters from July 19 and July 21, 1864 by Zacharias Frankel to Joseph Perles in the Joseph Perles Collection, Leo Baeck Institute, New York, AR 4884. See also Andreas Brämer, “Die Anfangsjahre der ‘Monatsschrift für die Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judenthums’ (1851–1868). Kritische Forschung und jüdische Tradition im Zeit- alter der Emanzipation,” in Zwischen Selbstbehauptung und Verfolgung. Deutsch-jüdische Zei- tungen und Zeitschriften von der Aufklärung bis zum Nationalsozialismus, ed. Michael Nagel (Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag, 2002), pp. 139–157, here pp. 146–152. 24 M. Steinschneider, Review of B.[ernhard] Beer, Leben Abraham’s nach Auffassung der jüdischen Sage (Leipzig: Leiner, 1859), HB 2 (1859): 100–101, here 100. 25 Letter to Julius Fürst, May 19, 1842, Moritz Steinschneider Archive, Jewish Theological Seminary, AR 108, box 3. 26 M. Steinschneider, “Benjacob’s Bibliopolis (Neuhebräische Classiker),” HB 5 (1862): 1–2, here p. 1. 27 M. Steinschneider, “Schriften des Instituts,” HB 2 (1859): 98–101, and M. Stein- schneider, “Schriften des Instituts zur Förderung israelit. Lit. V. Jahr,” HB 3 (1860): 103. 28 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, p. xxiv. Also HB 17 (1877): 121. 184 nils roemer including Yiddish literature.29 His attention to the culture of everyday life did not conflict with his scholarly investigations—he rather thought of popular culture as central to his definition and articulation of Jewish literature. For him, religious, philosophical, scientific, as well as folk literature formed the “spirit of the nation.”30 Steinschneider’s scholarly thrust thus cannot be subsumed under an easy formula. His advocacy for a Jewish scholarship free of the constraints imposed upon it within rabbinical seminaries, his critical distance from religious institutions, and his abhorrence for the popularization of Jewish scholarship all went hand in hand with his understanding of “national” Jewish literature.

Debates over the “Noble Dream of Objectivity” among Jewish and other German Historians

To defend his views Steinschneider did not shy away from critical debates. He took Abraham Geiger (1810–1874) to task and clearly sided with those who criticized Graetz. It must be observed, however, that the reason for this critique was not Graetz’s passionate style of writing, but rather his plagiarisms and disrespectful treatment of Zunz and other scholars. As is well known, others were much more outspo- ken about Graetz, who became a central issue in the Berlin debate on anti-Semitism.31 While the exchange between Graetz and Heinrich von Treitschke (1834–1896) left little room for reﬂective discussions on the nature of scholarship, other debates involved such issues. Whereas Stein- schneider’s review of Moritz Güdemann’s (1835–1918) History of the Education System and Culture of the Jews (1873–1894) did not touch upon the general question of scholarly objectivity, Ludwig Geiger attacked Güdemann’s History as an erudite yet thoroughly polemical work. Gei- ger argued that Güdemann had failed to make a case for the intimate social and cultural contact between Jews and Germans during the fourteenth and ﬁfteenth centuries and mistakenly suggested that the

29 M. Steinschneider, “Ueber die Volksliteratur der Juden,” pp. 1–21, and David Kaufmann, Achtzehn Predigten von David Kaufmann: Aus seinem Nachlasse, eds. Ludwig Blau and Max Weisz (Budapest: Jabneh, 1931), pp. 130–131. 30 M. Steinschneider, “Ueber die Volksliteratur der Juden,” p. 2. 31 N. Roemer, Jewish Scholarship and Culture in Nineteenth-Century Germany, pp. 84–86. moritz steinschneider and the noble dream of objectivity 185

Jews had excelled morally over their Christian neighbors.32 Güdemann responded at length, rejecting the charges. He claimed that for Chris- tian historians, the work of Jewish scholars must appear apologetic insofar as it was their task to challenge and correct Christian miscon- ceptions.33 In order to bolster this point, Güdemann quoted the father of his critic, Abraham Geiger, and even went so far as to assert that a true scholar of Judaism must be Jewish.34 Other scholars saw the debate between Güdemann and Geiger as the internal continuation of the Berliner Antisemitismusstreit.35 In his comments in the Allgemeine, Ludwig Philippson walked a thin line between demanding historical objectivity and claiming that the historian should “immerse himself lovingly” in his topic. For Philippson, “cold objectivity” would yield not a profound grasp of Judaism, only a superﬁcial one. While Jewish historians should not become apologetic, he argued, it was impossible to demand total detachment in light of the endless persecution Jews had endured.36 In the following weeks, an anonymous correspondent, described as a “conﬁrmed historian,” challenged Philippson by reasserting explicitly an idealized notion of the Rankean tradition of detachment and objectivity. According to his view, historical understanding rested on the ability to transfer oneself into the past, so as to comprehend the subject in its essence from its own perspective. Only then was the historian entitled to pass judgment.37 This “noble dream” of objectivity, as Peter Novick has called it, presents the historian as a disinterested judge, who shuns all advocacy of a cause and propaganda.38 This idea notwithstanding, virtually all nineteenth-century German

32 Ludwig Geiger, “Zur Kritik der neusten jüdischen Geschichtsschreibung,” Zeitschrift für die Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland 3 (1889): 383–386. 33 Moritz Güdemann, Ludwig Geiger als Kritiker der neuesten jüdischen Geschichtsschreibung (Leipzig: Friese, 1889), pp. 30–31. 34 Ibid., p. 32 and Ismar Schorsch, “Moritz Güdemann, Rabbi, Historian and Apologist,” LBIYB 11 (1966): 42–66, here 57–58. 35 “Wie Ludwig Geiger Graetz’ Sünden an dessen Jüngeren heimsucht,” Israelitische Wochenschrift 20 (1889): 311–312. See also “Jüdische Geschichtsschreibung,” Jüdische Presse 20 (1889): 493–494, 505–506, and 521–522. 36 Ludwig Philippson, “Die jüdische Geschichtsschreibung,” AZJ 53 (1889): 749–752. 37 L. Philippson, “Zu ‘Die jüdische Geschichtsschreibung’,” AZJ 53 (1889): 800–801. 38 P. Novick, That Noble Dream the “Objectivity Question,” p. 2, and Calvin Rand, “Two Meanings of Historicism in the Writings of Dilthey, Troeltsch and Meinecke,” Journal of the History of Ideas 25 (1965): 503–518. 186 nils roemer

historians were politically active and aware of the political function of their scholarship.39 The anonymous correspondent charged the neo-Prussian German historical school, represented by Treitschke and Heinrich von Sybel (1817–1895), with having abandoned the ideal of historical objectivity. He retraced the way in which German historians like Johann Gustav Droysen (1808–1884), Treitschke, and Sybel had, since the 1850s, critically distanced themselves from Ranke for his alleged lack of political involvement, his characterless objectivity, and his absence of an ethical perspective.40 In his response, Philippson joined a debate that had also taken place in the German historical arena. At the outset, Philipp- son declared his agreement with the anonymous writer, but nevertheless wished to differentiate between “cold” and “true objectivity.” He maintained that minutely detailed studies with material culled from city, church, and state archives provided only an account of Jews’ external history. These works, with their “cold objectivity” and their impartial treatment of history, Philippson charged, were inevitably partial and failed to yield a real understanding of Judaism and world history.41 He insisted that empathy with Jewish suffering was a sign of impartiality simply because the historian followed a genuine moral impulse to identify himself with those who were persecuted. Con- versely, any attempt that obfuscated this universal human dimension was fraudulent because it negated scholarship’s moral dimension. That Philippson sided with the ﬁerce critics of Heinrich Graetz is one of the ironies of this debate, but it also indicates the extent to which Jew- ish scholarship had moved during the 1880s and 1890s, becoming an agency of Jewish self-understanding in a wider, popular sense.42 Zunz and Steinschneider remained here the exceptions, yet it was precisely Zunz and Steinschneider who were idealized and cast as paragons of research in order to balance the more popular, educational, and apologetic streak within Jewish scholarship.

39 Georg G. Iggers, “Nationalism and Historiography, 1789–1996: The German Example in Historical Perspective,” in Writing National Histories: Western Europe Since 1800, eds. Stefan Berger, Mark Donovan and Kevin Passmore (London: Routledge, 1999), pp. 15–29, here p. 19. 40 Ulrich Muhlack, “Ranke und die politische Schule der deutschen Geschichtswis- senschaft im 19. Jahrhundert: Zum Verhältnis von Geschichte und Politik,” Comparativ 3 (1993): 92–113, and G. G. Iggers, “The Image of Ranke in American and German Historical Thought,” History and Theory 2 (1962): 17–40. 41 L. Philippson, “Zu ‘Die jüdische Geschichtsschreibung’.” 42 See on this, N. Roemer, Jewish Scholarship and Culture in Nineteenth-Century Germany, pp. 111–141. moritz steinschneider and the noble dream of objectivity 187

The debate over detachment and objectivity acquired an even greater virulence with the emergence of Zionism. Philippson’s arguments now became politicized. Max Nordau (1849–1923) attempted to liberate contemporary culture from the purported overbearing inﬂuence of history, questioning the edifying power of history in general.43 Nordau’s claim, presented in one of his writings not connected to Zionism, could be understood as a fundamental rejection of the ideal of historical education. Yet neither Nordau nor the cultural Zionists in Germany adopted this perspective in their own cultural program; they assessed only the accomplishments of Wissenschaft scholars critically.44 To be sure, some Zionists saw nineteenth-century Jewish scholarship as a source of legitimization for the national understanding of the Jews. More conscious of the ideological gap that separated Zionists from nineteenth-century German-Jewish scholars, the Hebrew writer, journalist, and Zionist activist Nahum Sokolov (1859–1936) emphasized during the Fifth Zionist Congress (December 1901 in Basel) the importance of the national perspective in the study of the Jew- ish past. Despite this new orientation, Sokolov continued to revere the accomplishments of German-Jewish historians all the same. In an attempt to embrace this legacy, Sokolov postulated that these historians, albeit often “unconsciously,” had already expressed the national unity of the Jewish people.45 Other Zionists (like their ideological opponents), by contrast, ﬁercely criticized contemporary Jewish historiography, mainly for its failure to reinvigorate contemporary Jewish culture and for its mistaken orientation toward scholarly objectivity.46

43 Max Nordau, Der Sinn der Geschichte (Berlin: C. Duncker, 1909). 44 Stephen M. Poppel, Zionism in Germany, 1897–1933: The Shaping of a Jewish Iden- tity (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1977), pp. 94–101; Shmuel Almog, Zionism and History: The Rise of a New Jewish Consciousness ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1987), esp. pp. 24–27, 45–51, 67–83 and 130–141; and Michael Berkowitz, Zionist Culture and West European Jewry Before the First World War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1993). 45 Nahum Sokolov “Jüdische Literatur und Wissenschaft,” Die Welt 6 (Feb. 21, 1902): 1–5 and (Feb. 28, 1902): 4–6, here esp. p. 5. 46 Stenographisches Protokoll der Verhandlungen des Zionisten-Congresses in Basel, 26., 27., 28., 29. and 30. December 1901 (Wien, 1901), pp. 131–146 and N. Sokolov, “Jüdische Lite- ratur und Wissenschaft,” Die Welt 6 (Feb. 21 and 28, 1902). See also Martin Buber, “Jüdische Wissenschaft,” Die Welt 5 (Oct. 11, 1901): 1–2 and (Oct. 25, 1901): 1–2; “Geschichte der Gegenwart,” Die Welt 3 (Oct. 20, 1899): 4–5; “Achthundert Jahre (1096–1896),” Die jüdische Presse 27 (1896): 213–214; O.[sias] Thon, “Das Problem der juedischen Wissenschaft,” Jüdischer Almanach 5663 (1902): 183–189; and Theodor Zlocisti, “Forderung und Förderung der Wissenschaft des Judentums,” Ost und West 3 (1903): 73–80. 188 nils roemer

Steinschneider appeared in these critical reﬂections often as the antipode to Graetz.47

Steinschneider Reasserts His Universalist Conception of Human Knowledge

It was in the midst of these ongoing debates that Steinschneider, unfazed by the virulence of the arguments over the Wissenschaft’s role in contemporary Jewish life and culture, continued to chart the shared or overlapping history of Jews, Christians, and Muslims during the Middle Ages. Like other Wissenschaft scholars who extolled the role Jews had played in the transmission of ancient knowledge from the Arabs to Europe, he documented where Jews had made Hebrew and Arabic texts available to the Christian West. Not only did his Die Ara- bische Literatur der Juden (1902) continue to rely on the widest possible definition of literature for the period from the ninth to the fourteenth century, but also Steinschneider identified here, as a contribution to Arabic literature, works written in Arabic and in Judeo-Arabic by Jews for Jewish and non-Jewish readers. His detailed bibliographic account was therefore guided by a concept of Arabic literature that was not linguistic, religious or cultural. Instead, the format of the bibliography allowed him to think of Arabic literature not in an essentialist fashion, but as the production of a geographical and cultural orbit. In showing that Jews translated and adopted the philosophical-literary tradition of their host culture, Steinschneider was thus able to identify a period of great cultural creativity. The encounter between Jews and Arabs shaped the era’s literature and therefore left its mark on all of those involved in the process of cultural exchange. To him, this Arabic literature composed by Jews furthermore clearly illustrated the extent to which the Jewish tradition had proven itself able to adjust to and adopt surrounding influences. Likewise, he saw the core of Judaism as being flexible enough to absorb and integrate these influences.48 From this perspective, his work is as fundamentally marked by nineteenth- century debates over Jewish culture and heritage as that of his intellectual opponents.

47 O. Thon, “Das Problem der juedischen Wissenschaft,” here p. 186. 48 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, p. xxiv, and M. Steinschneider, “Ueber die Volkslitera- tur der Juden,” p. 2. moritz steinschneider and the noble dream of objectivity 189

Like Zunz, Steinschneider offered a counter-image to Graetz’s passionate and lachrymose prose, but more than Zunz, he also contributed to the gloriﬁcation of Sephardic Jewry at the expense of Ashkenazic Jewish culture. To him, the martyrdom of the Ashkenazic Jews displayed a “piety of sadness, darkness without light . . .”49 In his Arabische Literatur der Juden, Steinschneider, like most modern German Jews, sought to discover in the multifaceted religious and cultural vitality of medieval Spanish Jews a historical precursor to their own cultural quest.50 Steinschneider’s scholarship, therefore, appears not as entirely devoid of preferences, polemical engagements, and political hopes as his programmatic statements would lead us to expect. Moreover, his reputation became shaped by the constraining and enabling impact of the Berliner Antisemitismusstreit and, with the emergence of Zionism, the increasingly political nature of the debates on the Wissenschaft. These ongoing deliberations forced Jewish historiography to balance contradictory impulses and square the hermeneutic circle of scholarly objectivity and subjectivity, detachment and engagement. Steinschneider’s reputation became even more strongly marked by this tension when he received late acknowledgement for the contributions of his scholarship. In 1887 Columbia University honored him; in 1894 the Prussian government made him an honorary professor. Two years later a Festschrift bestowed more honor on him. His last publications further cemented his reputation. With Die Hebräischen Überset- zungen (1893) and ﬁnally Die Geschichtsliteratur der Juden in Druckwerken und Handschriften (1905), Steinschneider, once more, contributed quite markedly to detailed historical reconstructions of available sources at the expense of a compelling and engaging historical narrative. And once again he reiterated his belief that his work would offer an objective portrayal without national or theological polemics.51 With this characteristic style of writing, he plainly sought to safeguard his work and attacked the pervasive popularization of scholarship that had taken shape in the last decades of the nineteenth century. And again Steinschneider declared that he deliberately wrote only for the few men who valued scholarship for its own sake, announcing that he

49 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, p. xx. 50 M. Steinschneider, Arab. Lit., pp. vii–viii. 51 Ibid., p. viii. 190 nils roemer would not be accountable for any forms of popularization of his work. Books for the broader public were made of “meager bones doused with water,” he believed.52 Therefore he was subsequently prone to be viewed as the Jewish Ranke, especially since the contradictory impulses within Jewish scholarship continued to exert their inﬂuence well into the twentieth century.

52 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, p. xxiv. 8. THE AIM AND STRUCTURE OF STEINSCHNEIDER’S DIE HEBRAEISCHEN ÜBERSETZUNGEN DES MITTELALTERS. THE HISTORIOGRAPHIC UNDERPINNINGS OF A MASTERPIECE AND THEIR UNTOWARD CONSEQUENCES*

Gad Freudenthal

Moritz Steinschneider’s Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters of 1893 is a monumental work from all points of view and has probably done more for the advancement of our knowledge of medieval Jewish intellectual history than any other single scholarly book. Even today, more than one hundred years after its publication, no research on medieval Hebrew learning is possible without constantly referring to Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen. And yet, I will suggest that the work’s structure follows from an implicit historiographic agenda that has had untoward consequences on historical scholarship, which a different structure would have guided onto fruitful and still largely neglected avenues of research.

1. Identifying the Question to which Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen Is the Answer

Let us begin by asking: What is the question to which Steinschneider’s work is the answer? Our point of departure is the structure of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen:1

* I am grateful to Reimund Leicht for his very pertinent suggestions on an earlier version. 1 The following Table of Contents is detailed in the beginning and less so afterward; it would have been cumbersome and not necessarily very useful to present it in all detail. 192 gad freudenthal

[INTRODUCTION:] General Considerations

PART ONE: PHILOSOPHY Chapter 1: The Greeks Aristotle: A. Logic: al-Fârâbî; Averroes: a. Short commentaries on the Organon (including all commentators); b. Middle commentary on the Organon (including all commentators); c. Long commentary on the Organon (including all commentators). B. Physical writings: I. Physics: Averroes: a. Short commentary (including all commentators); b. Middle commentary (including all commentators); c. Long commentary (including all commentators). II. De caelo: Themistius; Averroes: a. Short commentary (including all commentators); b. Middle commentary (including all commentators). III. De gen. et corr.: Averroes: a. Short commentary (including all commentators); b. Middle commentary (including all commentators). IV. Meteorologica: Samuel Ibn Tibbon; Averroes: a. Summa (including commentators); Short commentary (including all commentators); b. Middle commentary (including all commentators). V. De minera- libus. VI. De plantis: Nicolaus of Damascus, Averroes. VII. De animalibus. VIII. De anima: Averroes: a. Short commentary (including all commentators); b. Middle commentary (including all commentators); c. Long commentary (including all commentators); Alexander of Aphrodisias. IX. Parva naturalia. C. Metaphysics : al-Fârâbî; Aristotle translated from Latin; Aver- roes: a. Short commentary (including commentators); b. Middle commentary (including all commentators); c. Long commentary; Themistius. D. Questiones. E. Ethics. F. Pseudo-Aristotle. Chapter 2: Arabs Averroes; Avicenna; Bataljusi; Qusta Ibn Luqa; al-Fârâbî; al-Ghazzali; Ishaq Ibn Hunayn; Ali Ibn Ridwân; Ibn al-Saig; Tabrizi; Ibn Tufayl. Chapter 3: Jews Abraham Ibn Daud; Bahya Ibn Paqudah; David Ibn Marwan al-Qumsi; Ibn Gabirol; Isaac Israeli; Judah Halevi; Judah ben Nissim; Joseph Ibn Aqnin; Joseph Ibn Zaddik; Moses Abulaﬁa; Moses Ibn Ezra; Maimonides; Saadiah; Ps.-Abraham Ibn Ezra. Karaites: Joseph al-Qirqisâni; Joseph b. Abraham; Jeshua b. Judah. Chapter 4: Christians Adelard of Bath; Aegidius; Albertus Magnus; Boethius; Th. Bricot; Marsil- ius ab Ingen; William of Ockham; Petrus Hispanus; Piccolomini; Raymund Lull; Robert of Lincoln; John Duns Scotus; Michael Scot; Thomas Aqui- nas; Versor; Vincent of Beauvais. Excerpts prepared by Judah Romano. Appendix: Logical writings. the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 193

PART TWO: MATHEMATICS Chapter 1: The Greeks Archimedes; Autoclitus; Euclid; Eutocius; Hermes; Menelaus; Nicomachus of Gerasa; Ptolemy; Theodosius. Chapter 2: Arabs Aﬂah (Ibn); Albubater; Averroes; Batani (al-); Bitruji (al-); Qusta Ibn Luqa; Farghani (al-); Hassar (al-); Haytham (Ibn al-); Kabisi; Kindi (al-); Kuschjar; Maashar (Abu-); Matani; Muadh (Ibn); Muhammad b. Muham- mad; Omar b. Muhammad; Ridjal (Ibn Abu); Saffar (Ibn al-); Shuja (Abu Kamil); Thabit (Ibn Qurrah); Zarkalah; Anonymous. Chapter 3: Jews Jacob Alcorsono; Joseph Israeli; Joseph Ibn Nahmias; Joseph Ibn Waqqar; Maimonides; MashaAllah; Sahel Ibn Bishr. Appendix: Jacob b. Makhir; Jacob Poel. Chapter 4: Christians Alfonso X; Alfonso; Bartholomeo dei Manfredi; Bianchini; Chrysococca; Dardi of Pise; Gerard of Sabionetta; Hermann of Contractus; John of Gmund; Luca Paciolo de Burgo; Pedro III; Piccolomini; Puerbach; Regio- mantus; Sacrobosco; Anonymous.

PART THREE: MEDICINE Chapter 1: Greeks Chapter 2: Arabs Chapter 3: Jews Chapter 4: Christians

PART FOUR: VARIA Chapter 1: Greeks Chapter 2: Arabs Chapter 3: Jews Chapter 4: Christians

PART FIVE: THE TRANSLATORS [ Jews who participated in Arabic- into-Latin translations] The approach followed in Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen can be described as “texto-centric”: its central concern is to determine which non-Hebrew texts were translated into Hebrew during the Middle Ages. We are considering, as it were, a corpus of texts that passed through a pipeline connecting four source cultures—the Greek, Arabic, Judaeo-Arabic and Latin cultures—to the European Jewish cultures whose cultural language was Hebrew. Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen is the answer to the question: which of the numerous texts written by Greeks, Arabs, arabophone Jews, and Christians (the categories are Steinschneider’s—see below) were transmitted in Hebrew versions? 194 gad freudenthal

Steinschneider and his contemporaries indeed wished to draw the maps of the landscapes of extant texts, i.e., to determine which versions of which texts were translated into which languages, when and by whom. In the 1880s much was already known about the Latin translations from Arabic,2 but the field of Hebrew translations was still largely a terra incognita. Steinschneider was aware of this desideratum of historical research from very early on: “When I prepared the entry ‘Jüdische Literatur’ in the encyclopedia of Ersch and Gruber (1844– 47),” he writes, “I perceived a dearth of sources, whose significance went far beyond that of a mere lacuna. This dearth had a bearing on the [question of the] influence exerted by foreign bodies of literature upon Jewish literature, [a point] that provided an important aspect [to be taken into account] in forming a definitive judgment [Endurteil ] about the latter.”3 The idea of systematically surveying the role played by Hebrew translations in European intellectual history thus germi- nated in Steinschneider’s mind already in the 1840s.4 During the next decades, as a result of his various studies, he gathered much relevant material. Its sheer quantity was, however, disheartening: “The more I became familiar with the material, the more I felt discouraged,” he confesses.5 The Deus ex machina that transformed a mass of notes into a bibliographical chef d’oeuvre was “a stimulus [Anregung] that came from Paris.”6 On 12 November 1880 the French Académie des inscriptions et belles lettres7 put for its Prix ordinaire the following question: “Faire l’énumération complète et systématique des traductions hébraïques qui ont été faites au moyen âge, d’ouvrages de philosophie ou de science, grecs, arabes ou même latins” (enumerate exhaustively and systematically the Hebrew translations of Greek, Arabic and even Latin works in philosophy or science, done during the Middle Ages). It was to this question that Steinschneider’s mémoire (which was to become Die Hebraeischen

2 E.g., through Amable Jourdain’s Recherches critiques sur l’âge et l’origine des traductions latines d’Aristote (Paris: Joubert, 1819, 1843) as well as a number of further works listed by Steinschneider in HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. X. 3 HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. IX. Steinschneider of course refers to Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, eds. J. S. Ersch and J. G. Gruber, 2nd Section, vol. 27 (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1850), pp. 357–471 (= JL/G). All translations here and in what follows are mine, unless indicated otherwise. 4 On this point see also Charles H. Manekin’s article in this volume. 5 HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. X. 6 HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. X. 7 Steinschneider (HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. X) mistakenly writes “Académie Française.” the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 195

Übersetzungen) replied, and to which it indeed provided the fullest possible answer.8 In the Appendix to this article, I sketch the institutional context in which the prize question was framed and the prize awarded (some attention is also devoted to the second work by Steinschneider that was awarded a prize, namely, Die arabischen Übersetzungen aus dem Griechischen).9 Consider now the classifications which Steinschneider introduced to organize his material. A first observation is that Steinschneider’s point of departure is not the Hebrew translations, but rather the set of texts which became objects of translation. The first great division of this set is by disciplines. Steinschneider has three great Parts: philosophy, which includes all the physical and natural sciences; the mathematical sciences (including astronomy, optics etc.); and medicine. A fourth, smaller, hodgepodge Part of “varia” includes all the other translations. This division has the obvious advantage of keeping comparable authors together in one Part. For example, looking at the Table of Contents of Part One, the reader immediately notices that whereas Aristotelian works (mainly in their Averroean versions) were available in Hebrew en masse, Plato did not exist in Hebrew (in fact, only one work by him was translated). He or she can similarly observe that whereas al-Fârâbî and Averroes were favored by Hebrew translators, the Ikhwân al-Safâ [= Brethren of Purity], al-Kindî, and Avicenna, for example, were almost completely ignored. The classification into three large thematic parts thus supplies a convenient, if very rough, mapping of the areas which were of intellectual interest to medieval Jews, and, implicitly, also of the areas in which they were disinterested. Next, within each of the three thematic Parts, Steinschneider attends separately to each of the four source cultures, putting them into rough chronological order of their flourishing period: he naturally begins with the Greeks, and continues by successively considering the compositions by Arabs, Jews writing in Judaeo-Arabic, and Christians.10 Steinschneider then discusses one by one, in alphabetical

8 On the relationship between the mémoire submitted in French and the ﬁnal printed German version of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzugen see HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. X. 9 As Charles H. Manekin discovered, the “overt” story referred to here had a “concealed” part: the prize question was proposed in accord with Steinschneider; see his article in this volume. 10 Needless to say, these categories are problematic; Steinschneider used them prag- matically only, as a means to classify the translated texts according to the cultural origins of their authors. 196 gad freudenthal order, the authors within each culture. The discussion of the writings of each author is organized according to an ordre raisonné. This holds in particular for Aristotle, whose writings are discussed according to their medieval arrangement. The basic building block of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen is the entry discussing a given individual work and its “career” or “trajectory” in Hebrew. It is well known that the richness of the information which Steinschneider gathered is overwhelming. He discusses each work notably from the following three aspects: First, its identity: faced with a given Hebrew translation, Steinschneider sought to identify its Vorlage—usually in Arabic or Latin—with precision; often these inquiries resulted in short monographs on the literary history of the original text in its different versions. Second, Steinschneider supplied all the information available to him concerning the Hebrew translation, or translations, of the work in question; this included, inter alia, an effort to distinguish different translations, information on printed editions and, most importantly, on manuscripts carrying the text. Often the translation of a given work into languages other than Hebrew is also discussed in detail. In between, and this is the third part of each entry, Steinschneider included often detailed accounts of the translators and the circumstances of the translation.11 In his discussion of each work and of its Hebrew translations, Steinschneider further included much detailed information about its afterlife—supercommentaries, authors who drew on it, etc. This part of an entry amounts to a literary history of the text in its Hebrew garments. Steinschneider indeed emphasizes that he devoted to the literature dependent on a given translation the same amount of attention as to the translation itself.12 He was fully aware of the importance of these investigations: he saw the compositions drawing on a given translation as “bridges” via which the imported, “alien” lore entered Judaism, allowing its integration into Jewish thought.13 Steinschneider singles out the literary genre of the commentary as the most ﬁtting

11 Steinschneider notes that he devoted discussions to the individual translators, usually when they are first mentioned (HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. XIII). 12 HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. XIII: “den Bearbeitungen ist daher dieselbe Sorgfalt wie den Uebersetzungen zugewandt worden.” 13 HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. XIII. the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 197 tool through which Jewish scholars introduced new ideas into the commented texts.14 Consider now the implicit historiographic premises informing Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen. Steinschneider can be described as a student of the textual landscape that resulted from cultural transfer, investigating the survival of the “Classical” cultural heritage. It is important to note that for Steinschneider, this heritage comprises much more than Greek science and philosophy: he rather conceived the Classical tradition as including not only the Greek legacy itself, but also the Arabic, Hebrew, and Latin bodies of knowledge that grew out of it. This recognition is not universal even today. True, Steinschneider occasionally seems to state the contrary. Thus, for his second prize submission he chose the dévise: “La Grèce était la source unique du savoir et de la droite pensée” (Greece was the unique source of knowledge and of right thought). As it happens, this is a quotation from a well-known lecture by Ernest Renan (1823–1892), in which the latter argued that the medieval Arabic-Islamic culture contributed next to nothing to the advancement of science and philosophy.15 Occasionally Steinschneider also writes as if the only value of translations was to preserve the Greek heritage and transmit it undamaged to the West.16 Yet Steinschneider is far from adhering to the worldview of Renan, whose low esteem for “Semitic” thinking is well known. While he shares the contemporary belief that science in the full sense first emerged in Greece (“le mira- cle grec”—Renan),17 he views the Arabic, Hebrew, and Latin works written in the same tradition as an integral part of it, emphasizing the innovative potential of writings which build upon translated texts (e.g., commentaries). This historiographic stance is reflected in, and explains, e.g., the fact that Steinschneider discusses Averroes’ commentaries under Aristotle: this does not imply that he took Averroes to have merely transmitted the Stagirite’s thought, without adding any original contribution of his own. Thus, despite the singularity which Steinschneider ascribes to Greek thought as the fountainhead of the Classical tradition, he understood the latter in a very broad sense and

14 HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. XIII. 15 See the Appendix for the references. 16 E.g., M. Steinschneider, Die arabischen Übersetzungen aus dem Griechischen (Graz: Aka- demische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, 1960), pp. 5–6. 17 Ernest Renan, “Prière sur l’Acropole” (1883), included in Souvenirs d’enfance et de jeu- nesse: text, e.g., at http://www.mediterranees.net/geographie/grece/renan/renan2.html. 198 gad freudenthal accordingly studied in detail not only the preservation in Hebrew of the Classical bodies of knowledge, but also their reception and further development within Jewish cultures. Although his declared aim was only to “establish an exhaustive and systematic listing” of the medieval Hebrew translations, and although the structure of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen conforms to this goal, in truth Steinschneider approached his task as a historian interested in the prolongation of the Classical legacy within various cultures. Put differently: Owing to his immense erudition and broad perspectives, Steinschneider broke out of the limits of the task he set himself; his explicitly stated historiographic stance (which was also that of the Académie) is much narrower and more conservative than the implicit outlook that in reality guided the elaboration of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen.

2. Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters: Untoward Consequences of Its Structure

Having looked at the aim and structure of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters, let us now consider the consequences of Steinschneider’s scheme. As organized, this work has the following fundamental feature: It does not easily offer a comprehensive picture of the very process on which it bears, namely the process that gave rise to the medieval Hebrew translations; still less does it attend systematically to “the Jews as translators.” Inasmuch as the work is texto-centric, it focuses on the translated corpus, considering text after text, but paying little attention to the real, concrete, history of the various intellectual movements which produced the medieval Hebrew translations. This, however, is a subject in which the historian of Jewish intellectual life is eminently interested. He or she asks questions such as: In which chronological order were the translations made? Where? Who were the translators? Who chose the works to be translated and by what criteria? Were there centers of the translation movement—and if so, where and why? What motivated the translators and their eventual patrons? etc. What we are looking for, in other words, is (also) an account of the historical process through which the corpus of the medieval Hebrew translations came to be, not only of the end result itself, the translated corpus and its aftermath. To be sure: Steinschneider certainly knew the answers to all or most of these questions, indeed better than anyone since his time, and much of the relevant information is there, tucked away in the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 199 the 987 pages of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen. The “General Remarks” (Allgemeine Bemerkungen) with which he prefaced his work even briefly reviews many aspects of the social history of translations.18 However, owing to the organization of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen, the salient information is dispersed throughout the work and no overall picture of the history of the translation movements emerges. To exemplify and corroborate my contention, let us try to reconsti- tute the lives and works of two prolific and important twelfth-century translators, one well known, the other still relatively obscure, and see whether and how their vitae emerge from Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen. The first is Judah Ibn Tibbon, the renowned “Father of the Trans- lators.” The index of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen lists seven entries referring to him, ordered alphabetically by the names of the translated authors.19 First is Bayah Ibn Paquda.20 The relevant entry notes that Gate One of the Duties of the Hearts was one of the first works to be translated from Arabic, namely in 1161. Steinschneider observes that this translation opened a new era of systematic translation activity from Arabic into Hebrew and devotes some space to Judah himself and to his patrons, R. Meshullam b. Jacob and his son R. Asher. This is followed by a detailed account of Judah’s introduction to the translation, which, Steinschneider says, became a model for all the introductions which later translators included in their works. The second, very brief, entry refers to a possible, but probably spurious, translation of a commentary of Posterior Analytics by al-Fârâbî.21 The third entry refers to Ibn Gabirol’s Improvement of the Qualities of the Soul, which Judah Ibn Tibbon translated between 1161 and 1167.22 Steinschneider briefly mentions the translator’s introduction to this translation, in fact a private letter to Asher ben Meshullam, in which Judah recounts the circumstances that led him to translate the book. The fourth entry concerns Judah Ibn Tibbon’s version of The Choice of Pearls.23 The fifth, very brief, entry is devoted to the Hebrew translation of Judah Halevi’s Kuzari.24 Steinschneider says almost nothing about the translation except that it is dated 1167 in Lunel. Separated from this by more than 500 pages is the sixth entry,

18 HÜ, pp. XV–XXIV. 19 HÜ, p. 1058, 5–9. 20 HÜ, pp. 373–375. 21 HÜ, p. 47. 22 HÜ, pp. 381–382. 23 HÜ, pp. 382–384. 24 HÜ, pp. 403–404. 200 gad freudenthal bearing on Sefer ha-Riqmah and Sefer ha-Shorashim, Judah Ibn Tibbon’s Hebrew versions of Jonah Ibn Jana’s grammatical work and lexicon.25 Steinschneider gives the date of the translation (1171) and recapitulates the translator’s introduction. Seventh and last is Judah Ibn Tibbon’s translation of Saadiah Gaon’s philosophical work, Emunot we-de{ot.26 Steinschneider notes that the translation is dated 1186, and says a few words on how Judah Ibn Tibbon translated technical terms. What do we now know about Judah Ibn Tibbon’s “hebräische Übersetzungen” and especially about himself “als Dolmetscher”? What induced Judah to become a translator? Did he choose the texts to be translated on his own? What was his personal theologico-philosophical agenda and did it have a bearing on his translation activity? How did he interact with his environment? We do not learn much about these topics and thus get no inkling of the historical circumstances that produced the most influential texts of Jewish thought. Above all, the very realization that an individual was active as a translator in Lunel for nearly thirty years between c. 1160 and c. 1190 and initiated a long-lasting innovative translation project—one which was to have a momentous impact on Jewish cultural identity—does not exactly throw itself at the user of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen. Rather, in order to apprehend this fact, one first of all has to develop some curiosity about Judah Ibn Tibbon, then look up his name in the index and subsequently gather the information at seven scattered loci in Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen. Thus, although Steinschneider provides us with much data about Judah Ibn Tibbon and his six translations of Judaeo-Arabic texts, he offers no portrait of the translator himself nor a tableau of his activities; a fortiori he sheds no light on the historical context that gave rise to this first phase of the Arabic-into-Hebrew cultural transfer in the Midi (southern France). (Paradoxically, however, Steinschneider had written a characterization of Judah Ibn Tibbon many years earlier as a tribute to his father’s 70th birthday.)27 Judah Ibn Tibbon has long been an established figure in Hebrew intellectual history, and so, notwithstanding the shortcomings of

25 HÜ, pp. 918–919. 26 HÜ, p. 439. 27 Moritz Steinschneider, Ermahnungsschreiben des Jehuda Ibn Tibbon an seinen Sohn Samuel, des Moses Maimonides, an seinen Sohn Abraham und Sprüche der Weisen; zu Ehren des siebenzigsten Geburtstags seines verehrten Vaters, Herrn Jacob Steinschneider [. . .] aus Bodlejanischen Handschriften (Berlin, 1852), esp. pp. VIII–X (German part). the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 201

Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen, his contributions to Hebrew letters have never gone unmentioned in accounts of twelfth-century Jew- ish scienti fic-philosophical culture. But other translators, even of a comparable stature, have been less fortunate and have remained virtually unnoticed, although, sure enough, they feature in Die Hebraei- schen Übersetzungen. I wish to present briefly such a translator and his œuvre, and then reflect on the reasons for his almost total neglect in historiography. It was—could it have been otherwise?—Steinschneider himself who discovered the existence of this previously unknown translator and drew attention to his exceptional importance. In the catalogue of the Hebrew manuscripts of the Bibliothèque impériale in Paris, published in 1866, Hermann Zotenberg (1836–1909) reproduced an excerpt of a short text contained in MS héb 1190 of the library.28 Steinschneider immediately realized its significance and obtained a transcription from Adolf Neubauer.29 He recognized that this was the introduction by an unknown scholar in the Midi to a collection of twenty-four books of theoretical and practical medicine that the latter had translated from Latin into Hebrew. In his Introduction, the anonymous translator provided the impressively long list of works he had translated and described what had motivated him to embark upon his huge translation project. What makes this translation project so remarkable is not only the sheer number of works translated by a single person, but also two additional features: (1) the translations were made from Latin; and (2) it dated from 1197–1199, a very early date for any Hebrew translation in the Midi, especially from Latin. In a series of articles on the reception of Salernitan medicine in Hebrew sources, Steinschneider identified most of the treatises translated by the anonymous scholar.30 Two decades later, he published the text of the Introduction, referring

28 Catalogue des manuscrits hébreux et samaritains de la Bibliothèque impériale (Paris: Impres- sion Impériale, 1866). 29 HÜ, p. 712. 30 Moritz Steinschneider, “Constantinus africanus und seine arabischen Quellen,” Virchows Archiv für pathologische Anatomie und Physiologie und für klinische Medizin 37 (3) (Nov. 1866): 351–410; “Donnolo. Pharmakologische Fragmente aus dem X. Jahrhun- dert: nebst Beiträgen zur Literatur des Salernitaner, hauptsächlich nach handschriftlichen hebräischen Quellen,” Virchows Archiv für pathologische Anatomie und Physiologie und für klinische Medizin 38 (1) ( Jan. 1867): 65–91; 39 (2) ( June 1867): 296–336; 40 (2) ( Jan. 1868): 80–124; 42 (1–2) ( Jan. 1868): 51–112. 202 gad freudenthal his readers to Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen (which was then in print) for further information.31 Assume now that one’s interest has been awakened by Steinschneider and he or she wishes to learn more about the unnamed translator and his work. Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen contains much information on him and his translations, but let us see where. As is his wont, Stein- schneider embeds the discussion of our scholar in the account he gives of one of his translations. This happens to be the first work on the anonymous’ own list of his translations: unayn Ibn Isâq’s Introduc- tion to Galen’s Technê. Consider now the context in which this discussion is inserted in Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen. In Part III (medicine), Chapter 2 (medical writings by “Arabs”), Steinschneider devotes a section to a bio-bibliographic review of unayn Ibn Isâq, namely on account of his being one of the physicians whose works were translated from Arabic into Hebrew.32 Steinschneider begins with a few general remarks on unayn33 and then turns to his Introduction to Galen’s work. An excursus on the different versions of unayn’s composi- tion34 is followed by an investigation of its Hebrew translations—first from Arabic,35 and then from Latin.36 This is the place where Stein- schneider inserts his discussion of the anonym’s translation from Latin of unayn’s Introduction. It is here, too, that in a long digression he introduces the anonymous writer and his autobiographical introduction to his œuvres complètes.37 Thus, unless one is interested in the Hebrew translations of unayn’s Introduction made from their Latin version, one stands little chance of becoming acquainted with the very existence of our prolific translator. Moreover, it is here that Steinschneider announces that he will henceforth refer to the unknown translator as “der Anonymus.”38 Elsewhere in Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen he indeed often refers to der Anonymus, whose identity the reader is expected to have kept in mind; but if he did not do so, the index can be of some

31 Moritz Steinschneider, “Haqdamat ha-ma‘atiq bi-khetav yad Paris 1190,” in Maga- zin für die Wissenschaft des Judenthums 15 (1888), Hebrew section, pp. 6–14 and “Zur hebräischen Abtheilung,” ibid., p. 197. 32 HÜ, § 457. 33 HÜ, § 456. 34 HÜ, § 457. 35 HÜ, § 458. 36 HÜ, §§ 459, 461. 37 HÜ, § 460. 38 HÜ, p. 714, 5. the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 203 help, provided, however, one discovers the corresponding, not very prominent entry.39 From the autobiographical Introduction Steinschneider retrieved some biographical information on the anonymous translator. He had converted to Christianity and attained a high social rank. Later he regretted his conversion, but continued to live as a Christian: seeing himself as a traitor, he referred to himself as “Do’eg ha-Edomi,” the name of a figure depicted in the Book of Samuel and in Talmudic sources as an alien and a true villain, a calumniator and a murderer.40 A physician himself, Do’eg noticed that Jewish patients were flocking to Christian doctors and, as a result, ingesting impure medications. To avoid these involuntary transgressions, the repentant convert wanted the Jewish physicians, whom he still saw as his confreres, to withstand the competition with the more advanced Christian doctors. To this end, he decided to put within their reach a substantive collection of the best contemporary medical writings in Latin. Many of Do’eg’s translations are preserved in a large number of manuscripts, an indication of their lasting popularity.41 Thus Do’eg is obviously of considerable importance for the history of medieval Hebrew medicine. But his cultural significance goes far beyond that specific framework. As Steinschneider himself was quick to point out, Do’eg’s were the very first Hebrew translations of works by non-Jewish authors on entirely profane subjects.42 They include much scientific material, and employ a rich scientific Hebrew vocabulary (as yet unstudied). Thus, as a translator and transmitter of scientific Hebrew lore, Do’eg played an important role in the history of the reception of science and philosophy in twelfth-century Midi. Despite Steinschneider’s awareness of Do’eg’s cultural significance, the latter is mentioned in no work on Jewish intellectual history or in

39 HÜ, p. 1069 bottom. 40 1 Sam. 21:8; 22:9, 18; Ps. 52. In the Talmudic tradition, Do’eg is presented, together with Ahitophel, as a villain; see Bereshit Rabbah 32:7; JT, Peah, Chap. 1, p. 16a. See also TB Sanhedrin 93b, Yebamot 76b. 41 See my “The Father of the Translators from Latin into Hebrew: Do’eg ha- Edomi and His Twenty-Four Translations,” (Heb.) forthcoming. 42 “Ich kenne keine hebräische Übersetzung eines wissenschaftlichen Werkes eines arabischen Muslim vor 1199. . . . Unser anonymer Übersetzer, der von 1197–99 nicht weniger als 24, zum Teil umfangreiche Werke beendigte, . . . ist eine auffällige Erschei- nung, welche im Hinblick auf die Geschichte der jüdischen Wissenschaft im Allge- meinen durch einen besonderen Umstand erklärt werden muss.” HÜ, p. 713. 204 gad freudenthal studies on the transfer of secular knowledge into Hebrew.43 In view of the above, this is hardly surprising. To become aware of Do’eg’s very existence, one must ﬁrst of all chance upon Steinschneider’s reference to him, inserted as a digression within the account of the Hebrew translations from Latin (themselves done from Arabic) of unayn Ibn Isâq’s Introduction to medicine. Only then, after realizing that a scholar cited as “Anonymus 1197–9” lived at all, can one even think of gathering information about him. Little wonder that this has not occurred! The lesson to be drawn from this is clear: Steinschneider’s monumental but texto-centric Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen has a built-in structural deﬁciency: While it provides us with all the available information on the versions and translations of, say, unayn Ibn Isâq’s Introduction, the translators at work in this long process of cultural transmission from Arabic into Latin and thence into Hebrew enter the picture only en passant—they have no place of their own within Die Hebraeischen Über- setzungen. Not that Steinschneider was indifferent to them—not at all!— but the organization of the work made it next to impossible for him to consider the translators as a theme in its own right. Although he was fully aware that the transmitters of knowledge participated in its further elaboration and adaptation and thus needed to be studied, the structure of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen provided no space for them.

3. Conclusion

Steinschneider organized his Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen by themes, languages, and authors. This felicitously matched the desiderata of the Académie, which was much more interested in the survival in Hebrew of “Greek, Arabic and even Latin works in philosophy or science” than in the cultural contexts that produced these translations. For those of us who, a century and a quarter later, are interested in these contexts, Steinschneider’s admirable work is frustrating insofar as it hides in its treasuries much information which we deem signiﬁcant.44

43 Ron Barkai discussed him in his A History of Jewish Gynaecological Texts in the Middle Ages (Leiden: Brill, 1998), pp. 20–34, but within the limited framework of the history of medicine. 44 This drawback of HÜ is now remedied by a chronologically arranged list of the most signiﬁcant medieval Hebrew translations prepared by Mauro Zonta. See his “A Chronological Table of the Medieval Hebrew Translations of Philosophical and Scientiﬁc Text,” in Gad Freudenthal (ed.), Science in Medieval Jewish Cultures (Cambridge: the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 205

Would Steinschneider have structured his work differently if he had not composed it in response to the Académie’s prize question? Probably not. In the Preface to Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen he reflects upon various other possible modes of organizing the work and explains why he did not choose them. The only serious alternative to the one chosen was to order the translations according to their dates.45 Steinschneider had indeed pondered this option back in 1845, when he first conceived his ambitious project of a comprehensive account of the Jewish contribution to medieval intellectual activity (Zur Literaturgeschichte des Mittelalters).46 But in 1893, he found this solution impractical inasmuch as the dates of many translations were unknown. Consequently “there remained only grouping [the translations] together by disciplines (in Parts) and, within the Parts, by nations or religions which, more often than not, coincide with the languages of the original compositions (in chapters), the authors being ordered alphabetically.”47 Steinschneider thus chose the organizing principle of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzun- gen advisedly, only after having pondered alternatives. Aware that it obscured important aspects of the history of the Hebrew translations, he intended to add to the volume two further Parts: one devoted to the translators, the other to the translated authors. For various reasons, however, notably lack of space, Steinschneider abandoned this project.48 The fact, then, that Steinschneider wrote Die Hebraeischen Überset- zungen from a texto-centric perspective with the Classical heritage as its point of departure led him to organize it by translated authors and texts—an organization, however, which made it difficult for scholars to perceive adequately the historical process of the appropriation of foreign lore in medieval Jewish cultures. This is the untoward consequence of the aim and structure of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen, something we can recognize today, standing as we are on the shoulders of the giant to whom this volume of studies is devoted.

Cambridge University Press, 2011) pp. 17–73. This list of 571 entries will facilitate the study of the medieval Hebrew translations in a historical perspective. 45 Another possibility, namely to follow the chronological order of the translated authors, Steinschneider rightly dismisses as both pointless and useless. 46 Noted in Paul B. Fenton, “Moritz Steinschneider’s Contribution to Judaeo- Arabic Studies,” in this volume, with reference to Steinschneider, Arab. Lit., “Einlei- tung,” p. XLVII. 47 HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. XII. 48 HÜ, “Vorrede,” p. XIII. APPENDIX

STEINSCHNEIDER AND THE ACADÉMIE DES INSCRIPTIONS ET BELLES LETTRES: THE PRIX ORDINAIRE (1885) AND THE PRIX BRUNET (1887)

In the period under consideration, the Académie des inscriptions et belles lettres offered a considerable number of prizes.49 For each prize, the Académie proposed a subject, which was announced in the solemn session of the Académie after the rentrée, usually the second or third Fri- day of November. The Académie ﬁxed a submission date, usually the 31st of December three years in advance. Often no work was submitted, or submitted papers were found unworthy of the prize, and then the Académie would extend the delay by a year or two. Not infrequently, no worthy mémoire was submitted at all, and the question was replaced by a different one. The subject of a given prize for a given year was deﬁned by a special committee, created or renewed in October. The two prizes that will interest us here were all related to Oriental Studies and all handled by the same committee. Each year, three candidates for prize questions were proposed for each prize, and the committee selected one of them.50

49 The following account is based on the relevant volumes of the Académie’s three series of publications in this period: (i) Institut de France. Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres. Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 12 novembre 1880 (Paris, 1880); idem, Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 18 novembre 1881 (Paris, 1881); idem, Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 17 novembre 1882 (Paris, 1882); idem, Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 23 novembre 1883 (Paris, 1883); idem, Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 14 novembre 1884 (Paris, 1884); idem, Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 13 novembre 1885 (Paris, 1885); idem, Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 18 novembre 1887 (Paris, 1887). (ii) Mémoires de l’Institut national de France. Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres, vol. 33 (Paris, 1888), 135–61 (for 1880–1884); 35 (Paris, 1893), 116–41 (for 1885–1889). (iii) Aca- démie des inscriptions et belles-lettres, Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1884, vol. 12 (Paris, 1885); idem, Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1885, vol. 13 (Paris, 1886). Very helpful is the manuscript list: “État des sujets mis au concours et des mémoires reçus de 1818 à 1904” in Paris, Académie des inscriptions et belles lettres, Archive (in what follows: Archive), shelf mark 2 H 1. 50 See Archive, “Questions proposées ou adoptées 1870–1907 env.” [ Part II:] “Questions proposées ou adoptées dans l’ordre des études orientales, soit pour le Prix ordinaire du budget, soit pour le Prix Bodin, soit pour le Prix Delalande-Gurineau,” cahier, shelf mark 2 H 122: for each prize and year three snippets of paper, each the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 207

The winner of a given prize was determined by a formally different committee, which was created in January following the submission deadline. However, since the members of both committees—the one that deﬁned the prize question and the one that determined the winner—were naturally chosen according to their disciplines, the membership of both often overlapped. Within two years, the Académie awarded Moritz Steinschneider two prizes: in 1885, the Prix ordinaire du budget (also called Prix ordinaire or Prix du budget) of 2000 francs, whose funds came from the Académie’s own means; and in 1887 the Prix Brunet of 3000 francs, created by a private donor. Let us consider the context of both prizes.

I. Prix ordinaire. In the 1870s and 1880s, the topics proposed for the Prix ordinaire were historical and philological. Examples of subjects relating to philology are: “Étude grammaticale et lexicographique de la latinité de saint Jérôme” (submission date: 1881), “Faire connaître les versions de la Bible en langue d’oïl . . . antérieures à la mort de Charles V” (submission date: 1882) and “Étude grammaticale et historique de la langue des inscriptions latines, comparée avec celle de certains écri- vains romains, depuis le temps des guerres puniques jusqu’au temps des Antonins” (submission date: 1884). The prize question for which eventually Steinschneider won the prize was historical, however. The historical subjects simultaneously followed two parallel scientiﬁc agen- das: one relating to the history of Latin Europe, the other guided by Orientalist interests. Thus, in the years immediately preceding the prize question which was to be awarded to Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen, some of the proposed subjects related to Western history: for example, “Étude sur les impôts indirects chez les Romains jusqu’à l’invasion des Barbares, d’après les documents littéraires et épigraphiques” (submission date: 1880) and “Études sur les institutions politiques, admins- tratives et judiciaries du règne de Charles V” (submission date: 1879, extended to 1882); in the absence of satisfactory submissions, the latter question was eventually withdrawn and replaced by “Exposer la méthode d’après laquelle doit être étudié, préparé pour l’impression et commenté, un ancien obituaire” (submission date: 1884). As particularly forward-looking strikes us the subject for 1885: “Étude sur

carrying a question in a different hand, are pasted into the copybook. One of them bears in red ink the mention “adopté” or “choisi.” 208 gad freudenthal l’instruction des femmes au moyen âge.” Concurrently there was a series of Orientalist subjects, such as: “Classer et identifier autant qu’il est possible les noms géographiques de l’Occident de l’Europe qu’on trouve dans les ouvrages rabbiniques depuis le Xe siècle jusqu’à la fin du XVe. Dresser une carte de l’Europe occidentale où tous ces noms soient placés, avec des signes de doute s’il y a lieu” (first submission date: 1882, extended to 1884, when the prize was awarded to Adolph Neubauer) and “Traiter un point quelconque touchant l’histoire de la civilisation sous le Khalifat” (submission date: 1881). After having been extended to 1884, the latter question was withdrawn and replaced by the following: “Étudier d’après les chroniques arabes et principalement celles de Tabari, Maçoudi, etc., les causes politiques, religieuses et sociales qui ont determiné la chute de la dynastie des Omeyyades et l’avènement des Abbasides” (submission date: 1886). It is in continuity with these topics that on 12 November 1880 the following prize question was put for the Prix ordinaire: “Faire l’énumération complète et systématique des traductions hébraïques qui ont été faites au moyen âge, d’ouvrages de philosophie ou de science, grecs, arabes ou même latins” (enumerate exhaustively and systematically the Hebrew translations of Greek, Arabic and even Latin works in philosophy or science, done during the Middle Ages), with a submission date fixed for 31 December 1882.51 At the rentrée session on 23 November 1883, the President announced that no mémoire at all had been submitted for this question and that the competition was therefore being extended for another three years, until the end of 1885.52 However, well before that date, on 9 January 1885, the Aca- démie had already elected a comité de prix destined to award the prize for the question concerning the medieval Hebrew translations, obviously because a mémoire on this question had been submitted before the end of 1884. The members of this committee were: Ernest Renan (1823– 1892), Hartwig Derenbourg (1844–1908), Charles Henri Auguste

51 The other two questions that were proposed to the Oriental Committee that year were: “Traiter un point quelconque d’études zoroastriennes” and “Exposer les dif- férences qui distinguent la langue védique du sanscrit classique, quant à la syntaxe . . .” Thanks to Charles H. Manekin, we now know that the prize question on the Hebrew translations was framed by Steinschneider’s friends and in accord with the future winner (see Manekin’s article in this volume). 52 Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 23 novembre 1883, p. 27 (the mention “1886” on p. 22 is a typo). the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 209

Schefer (1820–1898), and Henri Weil (1818–1909).53 Its decision was announced at the solemn session of that year’s rentrée, on Fri- day, 13 November 1885: “[L’Académie] décerne le prix [ordinaire] à M. Moritz Steinschneider, auteur du mémoire portant comme épigraphe: Dies diem docet” (one day teaches another [Ps. 19:3]).54 The rapporteur to the prize committee was Derenbourg.55 The archive of the Académie preserves the manuscript,56 written on unbound folios in Steinschneider’s own hand: An “avant propos” (pp. 1–20) is followed by a “Table des matières” (pp. 21–57) and the main text (last page numbered 1599); included is also a separate cahier (numbered separately 1–60) carrying a “specimen” of notes.57 The library of the Institut de France (of which the Académie des inscriptions is a part) possesses a copy of Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen, the published German version of the prize work: disappointingly, it carries no dedication and (perhaps in retaliation) its pages were still uncut in 2008.58

II. Prix Brunet. This prize was established by a testamentary will in 1867 and dedicated speciﬁcally to works of bibliography.59 Thus for the prize of 1881 the Académie required a bibliographie raisonnée of the history of

53 Mémoires de l’Institut national de France, vol. 35, p. 168. Also in: Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres, Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1885, vol. 13, p. 9 (pp. 105 and 407 on the attribution of the Prix ordinaire to Steinschneider). 54 Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 13 novembre 1885, p. 29 (similarly on p. 7). “As philology was in constant move and progress, dies diem docet became a recurring motto of 19th-century research on Ancient Near Eastern cultures”; Christoph Uehlinger, “Introduction,” in Studies in the Iconography of Northwest Semitic Inscribed Seals, eds. Ben- jamin Sass and Christoph Uehlinger (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993), p. XII. Half a century later, J. L. Teicher used “Dies diem docet” as a motto for his paper “The Latin-Hebrew School of Translators in Spain in the Twelfth Century,” Homenaje a Millás-Vallicrosa, vol. 2 (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, 1956), 403–44. 55 See Archive, Ouvrages présentés aux divers concours de l’Académie. Registre, 1862–1887; shelf mark H*2, pp. 666–667. Derenbourg submitted his report on 19 June 1885. The other members of the committee also successively consulted the MS: the “Register” notes with precision the date each of them returned it. It also notes that Steinschneider lived in “Berlin, Rosenstrasse n° 2.” 56 Archive, shelf number 2 H 122. 57 This lays to rest the enduring legend according to which the notes that accompanied Steinschneider’s mémoire were lost. 58 Shelfmark 8° AA 1389 (seen in April 2008). 59 “M. Brunet, par son testament en date de 14 novembre 1867, a fondé un prix triennal de trois mille francs, pour un ouvrage de bibliographie savant que l’Académie des inscriptions, qui en choisira elle-même le sujet, jugera digne de cette récompense.” Steinschneider won the prize of 1887, the last time this prize was awarded. 210 gad freudenthal one of France’s provinces, for 1882 a bibliography of all works circula- ting under the name of Aristotle. On the rentrée session of 17 November 1882, the Académie proposed for the Prix Brunet of 1885 (submission date: 31 December 1884) the following question: “Relever sur le grand catalogue de bibliographie arabe intitulé Fihrist toutes les traductions d’ouvrages grecs en arabe; critiquer ces données bibliographiques d’après les documents imprimés et manuscrits” (Identify in the great catalogue of Arabic bibliography entitled Fihrist all the translations of Greek works into Arabic; subject this bibliographical data to criticism on the basis of printed and manuscript documents).60 By the first deadline one mémoire had been submitted; hence in January 1885 a committee was created to decide on the bestowal of the prize. Its members were: Renan, Derenbourg, and Schefer, who were also members of the Prix Ordinaire committee, as well as the orientalist Charles-Adrien- Casimir Barbier de Meynard (1826–1908).61 The committee adjudged the mémoire unsatisfactory,62 and the submission date was extended to the end of 1886.63 On 18 November 1887, during the solemn meeting of the rentrée, the president announced the winner of the competition in the following words whose praise was seriously qualified: “Le prix a été décerné à un savant bien connu dans les lettres orientales, M. Le Dr Moritz Steinschneider, de Berlin, qui a traité la question avec une entière connaissance de la bibliographie arabe et hébraïque, avec une connaissance moins complète, mais suffisante encore, de la partie grecque de son sujet.”64 The rapporteur for the committee, and author of these lines, was Schefer.65

60 Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 17 novembre 1882, p. 41. The subject of this prize question was also determined in accord with Steinschneider; see Charles H. Manekin’s article in this volume. 61 Mémoires de l’Institut national de France, vol. 35, p. 168 (séance du 9 janvier 1885); Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1885, vol. 13, p. 9. 62 Submitted by Gustave Dugat (1824–1894), since 1873 a professor at the École des langues orientales vivantes; he chose as his motto “Go ahead! Row!” See Archive, 8 H 8 (a-1885) and Archive, Ouvrages présentés aux divers concours de l’Académie. Registre, 1862–1887, pp. 682–683. 63 Mémoires de l’Institut national de France, vol. 35, p. 181; Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 13 novembre 1885, p. 34 (similarly, p. 48). 64 Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 18 novembre 1887, p. 10. (The prize was awarded to a scholar well known in Oriental Studies, Dr. Moritz Steinschneider, of Berlin, who discussed the [prize] question with a complete knowledge of the Arabic and Hebrew bibliography, and with a less complete but nonetheless still sufﬁcient knowledge of the Greek part of his topic.) 65 Archive, Ouvrages présentés aux divers concours de l’Académie. Registre, 1862–1887, pp. 762–765. Submitted on 20.06.1887. The dates on which the members of the committee returned the MS are noted on the cover of this “Register.” the historiographic underpinnings of a masterpiece 211

The motto Steinschneider had chosen for his mémoire is telling: “La Grèce était la source unique du savoir et de la droite pensée” (Greece was the unique source of knowledge and of right thought).66 It becomes even more telling once we realize that it is a quotation from a well- known lecture given in 1883 by no other than Renan,67 the predominant member of the prize committee. Can Steinschneider’s choice be interpreted otherwise than as a ﬂattering nod toward the 60-year-old savant with whom he had crossed swords more than once in the past? The unbound manuscript of 358+VII pages is preserved in the archive of the Académie.68 The mémoire was published by Steinschneider in Ger- man in a series of four articles between 1889 and 1891; in 1960, the articles were reprinted photomechanically in book form.69

66 Séance publique annuelle du vendredi 18 novembre 1887, pp. 9–10, 31; Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1885, vol. 13, pp. 105, 407; Mémoires de l’Institut national de France, vol. 35, pp. 130–31. 67 The lecture was delivered at the Sorbonne on 29 March 1883 and entitled “L’Islamisme et la Science.” It includes such statements as: “Tel est ce grand ensemble philosophique, que l’on a coutume d’appeler arabe, parce qu’il est écrit en arabe, mais qui est en réalité greco-sassanide. Il serait plus exact de dire grec; car l’élément vraiment fécond de tout cela venait de la Grèce. [. . .] La Grèce était la source unique du savoir et de la droite pensée.” (This then is the great philosophical corpus which is usually called “Arabic” because it is written in Arabic, but which in truth is Greek- Sassanian. It would be more exact to say “Greek”; for the truly fruitful element in all this came from Greece. . . . Greece was the only source of knowledge and of right thought.) First published in Journal des Débats 30 March 1883; published separately: Paris: Calman Lévy, 1883 (quotation on p. 11); reprinted in Oeuvres completes, vol. 1, édition deﬁnitive établie par Henriette Psichari (Paris: Calman Lévy, 1947), pp. 946– 960 (with an Appendix, pp. 960–965) (quotation on p. 951). See also Franz Rosenthal, “Steinschneider’s Contribution to the Study of Muslim Civilization,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 27 (1958): 67–81, on p. 78, n. 10. 68 Archive, 8 H 8 (b-1887). The cover carries the signatures of the members of the committee. 69 M. Steinschneider, Arab. Üb. (repr. Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, 1960). On p. 1 (new numbering) Steinschneider describes the history of the work. He does not mention the motto but writes in the same spirit: “In der That ist der Ursprung jeder unabhängigen Wissenschaft in Griechenland zu suchen” (p. 5). Else- where he writes: “Andererseits sind die Uebersetzer keine wirklichen Araber, nur ein einziger unter ihnen [= der “wirklichen Araber”], al-Kindi, besass vielleicht einige Kenntnisse der Griechischen Sprache” (p. 4): this is precisely Renan’s thesis in the 1883 lecture from which the motto was borrowed. 9. STEINSCHNEIDER AND THE IRRATIONAL: A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL STRUGGLE AGAINST THE KABBALAH

Giulio Busi

1. An Explorer of the “Literature of the Night”

Approaching the subject of Steinschneider’s relationship with the irrational, I feel somehow under the spell of Scholem’s negative judgment, which relegated the great bibliographer into the bad company of mortal enemies of mysticism, together with Zunz, Geiger and Graetz.1 Certainly Steinschneider was no easy person to get along with, and there is no doubt that mysticism, and especially kabbalistic literature, were among the subjects he liked the least. However, if properly analyzed, both his work and his personality are more sophisticated than those of many of his fellow rationalist scholars. Steinschneider named Avraham Abulaﬁa “a celebrated fanatic,”2 considered Moses de León nothing more than a forger, and the Zohar itself an “infamous mystical midrash.”3 No better fate was reserved for most scholars dealing with kabbalah. According to him, Adolphe Franck (1809–1893) “must be accused of ignorance”4 and even Adolf Jellinek was guilty of uncritically accepting “the forgery and defective criticism of some Hebrew authors as the basis of his opinions.”5 Yet hardly a kabbalist has escaped Steinschneider’s skilled attention, and many of his articles offer an invaluable mine of information still today. Such a

1 Cf. for instance G. Scholem, Von Berlin nach Jerusalem. Jugenderinnerungen, Erweiterte Fassung, aus dem Hebräischen von M. Brocke und A. Schatz (Frankfurt a. M.: Jüdi- scher Verlag, 1994), pp. 130–131: “Graetz [. . .] trug wie fast alle Begründer der Wis- senschaft vom Judentum im vorigen Jahrhundert (Zunz, Rapoport, Luzzatto, Geiger und Steinschneider) die größte Abneigung gegen alles zur Schau, was mit religiöser Mystik zusammenhing.” See also note 58. 2 M. Steinschneider, JL/E, p. 112. 3 JL/E, p. 110. 4 JL/E, p. 301. 5 JL/E, p. 299. 214 giulio busi

striking contradiction between a quite negative attitude toward mysticism and a careful study of mystical literature can be explained only by taking into account Steinschneider’s conception of scientific work. Aristocratic in his intellectual approach and openly disdainful of mainstream opinions, Steinschneider never pretended to be a philosopher. With a bit of vanity, he took every chance to repeat that he intentionally avoided big theoretical systems in order to concentrate on factual analysis. His focus was on biographical and bibliographical details, convinced as he was that a factual analysis could tell us much more about the past than abstract speculations. Nevertheless I will try to show that he was familiar with the most representative historiographic and philosophical theories of his age. In fact, under the appearance of the dry bibliographer, there was a refined intellectual, even with a taste for aesthetics.6 Everyone who is familiar with Steinschneider’s work knows that his remarks on single authors as well as on literary phenomena are scattered among an incredible number of different publications and short articles, in a way that often makes it difficult to reconstruct his thought. Moreover, Steinschneider’s activity covers an exceptionally long time span. His first translation appeared as early as 1838 and he continued to publish until just before his death in 1907. He therefore had the opportunity to change some of his opinions, and this evolution has to be taken into account in order to sketch his intellectual profile. However, he seems to have remained faithful to some fundamental attitudes he acquired during his youth, especially during the 1840s, when he definitely gave up his original wish to establish himself as a rabbi and became involved in scientific, that is secular, philological and historical research.7 As he himself wrote, his work for the Allgemeine Encyklopädie, directed by Johann Samuel Ersch and Johann Gottfried Gruber, deeply influenced his method and the very choice of subjects he developed during

6 Steinschneider offers an interesting overview of his approach to aesthetics in his “Allgemeine Einleitung in die jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters,” JQR XV–XVII (1903–5), XV, pp. 323–329 (“Das Schöne”). 7 A comprehensive biography of Steinschneider has yet to be written. The best texts available so far are A. Marx, “Moritz Steinschneider,” in idem, Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1947), pp. 112–184, 294–296; P. Figeac, Moritz Steinschneider (1816–1907). Begründer der wissenschaftlichen hebräischen Bibliographie (Teetz-Berlin: Hentrich & Hentrich, 2007). steinschneider and the irrational 215 the later period of his life.8 The Encyklopädie was a huge project aimed at bringing into German-speaking countries a late illuminist approach to the history of culture. It remained unﬁnished, although as many as 167 volumes were published.9 Steinschneider contributed some 30 articles,10 two of them being lengthy essays.11 No less important was the inspiration he received from the idea of an all-encompassing inquiry into historical heritage conducted from a critical, mainly non-confessional perspective. Much of Steinschneider’s work can be seen as a part of an encyclopedic plan, and in fact in 1844 he sketched, together with David Cassel, the scheme of an encyclopedia of Judaism.12 This very encyclopedic attitude toward knowledge can be seen as a key for understanding Steinschneider’s approach to the past, including the vast domain of the irrational. For him, knowledge had to be not only reliable, but also comprehensive; even more he was convinced that a sound knowledge of irrational matters was the most honorable trophy a full-ﬂetched rationalist could attain.

8 See Pseud. Lit., pp. 1–97, esp. p. 10: “Was bei mir vor etwa fünfzehn Jahren ein besonderes Interesse für die Pseudoepigraphie des Mittelalters, namentlich auf dem Gebiete des Aberglaubens erweckte, das waren die literatur- und culturhistorischen Fragen, die sich mir der Bearbeitung der §§ 14,21 u. 22 des Artikels Jüdische Literatur in Ersch und Grüber aufdrängten, nemlich [!] über den Antheil der Juden an der literarischen Bearbeitung der im Mittelalter so allgemein herrschenden geheimen Weisheit und s.g. practischen Kabbala.” 9 The 167 volumes were published in Leipzig between 1818 and 1889, when the project was ultimately abandoned. See B. Rüdiger, “‘Der Ersch/Gruber’: Konzep- tion, Drucklegung und Wirkungsgeschichte der Allgemeinen Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste,” Leipziger Jahrbuch zur Buchgeschichte 14 (2005), pp. 11–78. On the illuministic background and the goals of the Allgemeine Encyklopädie see J. Bahlcke, “Enzyklopädie und Aufklärung im literarischen Deutschland: Zu Leben und Wirken des schlesischen Bibliothekars Johann Samuel Ersch (1766–1828),” Berichte und Forschungen: Jahrbuch des Bundesinstituts für Ostdeutsche Kultur und Geschichte 5 (1997), pp. 81–99. 10 These articles are listed in G. Alexander Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Professor Dr. Moritz Steinschneider,” Festschrift zum achtzigsten Geburtstage Moritz Stein- schneiders (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1896), pp. V–XXXIX, esp. p. XXIV no. 17. All the articles devoted to single Jewish erudites were reprinted, with later corrections taken from Steinschneider’s Nachlass, in Ges. Schr., pp. 1–270. Ibidem, p. 233, Steinschneider criticizes the cuttings he had to make to his texts during the last years of publication of the Allgemeine Encyklopädie, probably owing to the declining economic revenues of the project. 11 I am referring to JL/G and “Jüdische Typographie und jüdischer Buchhandel,” vol. II. 28 (Leipzig, 1851), pp. 21–94 (together with D. Cassel). 12 D. Cassel [– M. Steinschneider], Plan der Real-Encyclopädie des Judenthums zunächst für die Mitarbeiter (Krotoschin: Monasch, 1844). This encyclopedia was never realized. See Marx, “Moritz Steinschneider,” pp. 124–125. 216 giulio busi

At the very beginning of his fundamental study on pseudepigraphy, published in 1862,13 Steinschneider offers one of his rare theoretical discussions on the method and aims of scholarly research. Albeit very short, this text reveals an intellectual sophistication Steinschneider usually concealed behind bibliographic subtleties, and it offers us some important hints about his scholarly credo. The entire passage is characterized by a metaphorical language quite unusual for Steinschneider and starts with a bold image: “To history belong both shadows and lights of the past. Understandably the researcher prefers to turn to the latter, in order to rescue from oblivion that which characterizes the advancing of spiritual progress. However, he must be even more grateful in recognizing, through a kind of self- denial, that which is brought to knowledge about the former.”14 It is not difficult to understand what kind of self-denial is meant here. The rationalist scholar must temporarily renounce his deep inclinations in order to explore the obscure field of his archenemy, which is unreason. In other words, just before leaving for a long journey into pseudepigraphy, Steinschneider depicts himself, half ironically and half seriously, as a martyr of science, who is compelled to abandon light and plunge into darkness, obeying the superior imperative of knowledge. The chief warriors in the opposite field are nothing less than “superstition and illusion, whose natural companion is deceit.”15 It is worth mentioning that the very negative chain “superstition, illusion, deceit” is also the core of the short entry “Geheim-Wissenschaft” (Secret Lore) of the Allgemeine Encyklopädie, which is a further proof of how close Steinschneider was to the spirit of this work.16

13 Pseud. Lit. 14 Pseud. Lit., p. 3: “Der Geschichte gehören die Schatten- wie die Lichtseiten der Ver- gangenheit an, und wenn der Forscher mit berechtigter Vorliebe sich diesen zuwendet, um der Vergessenheit zu entreissen, was den Fortschritt der geistigen Entwicklung bezeichnet, so wird er um so dankbarer anerkennen müssen, was mit einer Art von Selbstverläugnung [!] aus jenen zur Erkenntnis gebracht wird” (the italics are by Steinschneider). 15 Ibid: “Aberglaube und Schwärmerei, deren natürlicher Begleiter der Betrug ist.” 16 Vol. I. 56 (Leipzig, 1853), p. 57: “Was von den Menschen für ‚Geheime Wis- senschaft’ ausgegeben und unter allerlei Gebräuchen und auf die Bedingung der Geheimhaltung oder gleich geheimnisvoller Mittheilung mitgetheilt worden, verdient nicht leicht den Namen der Wissenschaft und beruht meistens auf Aberglauben, Schwärmerei und Betrug.” The article is signed H[offmann]. On Andreas Gottlieb Hoffmann see Rüdiger, “Der Ersch/Gruber,” pp. 30–31. steinschneider and the irrational 217

In fact, in denouncing the long-lasting effects of the irrational on humanity, he goes on saying, “not everyone who is laughing at his bonds is free.” Steinschneider, who does not name his source, quotes this verse to depict the close relationship between the rational and the irrational. As he himself puts it: “Till today it is difficult to get rid of many aspects in life, customs and science, the origin of which are to be found in the pseudo-science of older times.”17 The verse is taken from “Nathan the Wise” by Lessing, a masterpiece of the German Aufklärung,18 but the quotation is not literal. A little hint could lead us to identifying Steinschneider’s actual source in this case. Instead of the word “Ketten,” chains, used by Lessing, Steinschneider employs the synonym “Fesseln.” The same alteration of Lessing’s verse is to be found in a passage by the theologian Johann August Hein- rich Tittmann in his book Ueber Supranaturalismus, Rationalismus und Atheismus,19 in a section concerning exactly the subject discussed here by Steinschneider. It is revealing that our bibliographer tries to define the field of his inquiries on the basis of a well-established German scholarly tradition. In fact, the book by Tittmann belonged to a broader debate between two conflicting positions, namely “supernaturalism” and “rationalism,” and Steinschneider was probably well informed about this controversy, as his allusion to Tittmann suggests.20 Nevertheless, also in this case, he

17 Pseud. Lit., p. 3: “‘Es sind auch nicht Alle frei, die ihrer Fesseln spotten’; in Leben, Sitte und Wissenschaft ist noch heute Manches schwer auszurotten, dessen Ursprung in den Afterwissenschaften einer früheren Zeit aufzusuchen ist.” 18 G. E. Lessing, Nathan der Weise, IV, 4: “ ‘Der Aberglaub’, in dem wir aufgewachsen,/verliert, auch wenn wir ihn erkennen, darum/doch seine Macht nicht über uns.—Es sind/nicht alle frei, die ihrer Ketten spotten.” 19 J. A. H. Tittmann, Ueber Supranaturalismus, Rationalismus und Atheismus (Leipzig: Fleischer, 1816), p. 26: “Auch der Aberglaube (überhaupt) hat seine guten Gründe in der Vernunft selbst; denn es ist, wenn man die Sache ganz gründlich überlegt, (was so schwer ist, da, wie Lessing sagt, nicht alle frey sind, die ihrer Fesseln spotten,) am Ende doch der religiöse Aberglaube nichts anders, als ein bloßer Irrthum in der Anwen- dung wahrer Gründe des Glaubens.” It is worth mentioning that Steinschneider had already used the same quotation from Lessing in 1858, in praise of Alexander von Humboldt, whom he considered “der erste unter den äusserst wenigen, die das Mittel- alter ganz überwunden haben, denn ‘es sind nicht alle frei, die ihrer Fesseln spotten’” (M. Steinschneider, “Einzelnschriften,” Hebräische Bibliographie 1 (1858), p. 58). 20 Obviously it cannot be excluded that Steinschneider derived his slightly altered Lessing quotation from a source other than Tittmann. I was able to ﬁnd the same variant reading (“Fesseln” instead of “Ketten”) in two further books published prior to 1858: the periodical “Blätter für literarische Unterhaltung” 12 (1834), p. 1103 and Ch. F. von Ammon, Die Geschichte des Lebens Jesu: Mit steter Rücksicht auf die vorhandenen 218 giulio busi refrains from entering into philosophical subtleties, and prefers to conclude his remarks on the dark side of sciences with an emphatic assertion: “Not only small minds indulge in the dominating obscurity; ‘the literature of the night’, as one might name it, sometimes [also] brings us light on the heroes of the day.”21 The “heroes of the day” are evidently, for Steinschneider, the great rationalists, like the 11th-century exegete Abraham ibn Ezra, whom he quotes as a ﬁrst example of an extremely logical mind who occasionally fell victim to irrationality.22 But it is the expression “literature of the night” that most strikes our attention. I have to admit that, as a habitual reader and user of Steinschneider’s bibliographical works, characterized by an astonishing, even merciless accuracy, this “nightly” aspect of him fascinates me. For a long time I had not realized that, while describing pseudepigraphic, magic and mystical works, he saw himself as an expert of the “literature of the night.” I was able to trace back this expression to a text on magic published anonymously in English in 1851,23 where the “literature of the night side of nature” is mentioned. It cannot be demonstrated that Steinschneider read this work, but the concept was certainly “in the air” in 1862 when he used it for his text. In November, 1862, the celebrated La sorcière by the French historian Jules Michelet was published, and the author used the term of “littérature de nuit” in order to describe the ghostly realm of his negative heroines.24 Even if Michelet attained world fame with his book and our Steinschneider did not cross the borders of a limited readership, the latter had the merit to anticipate the more famous French. In fact the article on pseudepigraphy was printed in January, 1862,25 that is, more than ten months before La sorcière. The night of the German Jewish bibliographer had fallen earlier than the obscurity of French witches.

Quellen, 3 vols. (Leipzig: Vogel, 1842–1847), vol. 2, p. 409. However, Tittman’s passage seems to me Steinschneider’s most probable source. 21 Pseud. Lit., p. 3: “Es sind nicht die kleinen Geister allein, die der herrschenden Finsterniss [!] huldigen, und die ‘Literatur der Nacht’, wie man sie nennen könnte, verschafft uns mitunter Licht über die Heroen des Tages.” 22 In fact, as Steinschneider maintains, Ibn Ezra was sincerely convinced of the effectiveness of astrology. 23 “Magic, Mesmerism, and Madness,” Macphail’s Edinburgh Ecclesiastical Journal and Literary Review 13 (1852), pp. 300–312, and 14 (1853), pp. 85–103, esp. p. 97. 24 J. Michelet, La sorcière, Nouvelle edition (Paris: Lacroix, Verboeckhoven & Cie, 1867), p. 142: “Toute une littérature de nuit, qui ne sut pas un mot de celle du jour, peu même des fabliaux bourgeois.” 25 See Pseud. Lit., p. 97. steinschneider and the irrational 219

2. Skilled Hunter of Irrational Beliefs

“Light and darkness,” “day and night”: Through these opposites, Steinschneider tries to express in metaphoric language the tight min- gling of contrasting elements that characterizes each individual as well as the most general history of mankind. Although he seems to hold clear-cut opinions, Steinschneider’s vision of historiography is rather full of nuances: “The elements of history, as all of the spiritual enti- ties, must be imagined not one beside the other but merging one into the other.”26 This continuous exchange between logical and illogical opinions and behavior is essential in order to understand Steinschneider’s personality and his approach to history. He believes that, just as lights and shadows together build reality, so rationality and irrationality perme- ate both our past and present. No single aspect of human experience is free from this dichotomy. However, the use of reason represents the only sound way that permits us to recognize and understand effectively this dynamic process. Reason is an inner authority that only obeys its own laws. It does not accept any external authority. This celebration of the freedom of reason is the real core of Steinschneider’s Weltan- schauung: “All big struggles in the ﬁeld of the mind are struggles of reason against authority, while all minor struggles are the ﬁght of one authority against the other.”27 Accordingly, every institution or cultural structure that pretends to exert an external authority of any kind is naturally opposed to reason. Steinschneider is highly critical of churches and dogmatic organizations, like the rabbinate, and gladly takes any occasion to mock a vision according to which “the Pope is above Christ and Akiva above Moses.”28 Steinschneider criticizes not only institutionalized religion, but also its raw matter, that is, faith. Owing to its authoritarian traits,

26 Steinschneider, AE, XV, p. 304: “dass die Gesichtspunkte wie alles Geistige nicht äußerlich neben einander, sondern in einander übergehend gedacht werden müssen.” 27 AE, XV, p. 307: “Alle grossen Kämpfe auf dem Felde des Geistes sind Kämpfe für die Vernunft gegen die Autorität: alle kleinlichen Kämpfe sind die einer Autorität gegen die andere.” 28 Arab. Lit., p. IX: “Religion ist nicht Wissenschaft im engeren Sinne, sondern im Princip [!] natürliche Gegnerin derselben: hier Voraussetzungslosigkeit, dort Auto- rität, hier Naturgesetz, dort Wunder. Ist die Autorität als höchste anerkannt, dann perhorrescirt [!] der gelehrte Kenner und Vertreter derselben das Recht des Laien zur Kritik einzelner Glaubenssätze und Gebräuche: der Papst steht über Christus und Akiba über Moses.” 220 giulio busi faith inevitably collides with reason and borders on superstition. In Steinschneider’s view, faith and superstition are Siamese twins,29 and their strict, almost inextricable relationship represents an essential subject for scientific inquiry. It is worth mentioning that he seems to have avoided intentionally the study of institutional religious authorities, focusing on subtler forms of authoritarian thinking instead, like for instance kabbalah. Most probably kabbalah both repulsed and attracted Steinschneider because it based its authority and holiness on what he considered a falsified tradition. With its generous use of pseudepigraphy and its mixture of medieval sources, kabbalah offered to him a perfect field of analysis for showing how false authority builds on itself. For the skilled hunter of irrational beliefs, it was an easy game to catch the kabbalists red- handed while trying to build up an authoritative tradition by imitating ancient revelation and forging textual evidences. On the one hand, Steinschneider recklessly put to shame the kabbalists for their frauds, while on the other hand he painstakingly collected each piece of evidence concerning kabbalistic works. This contrasting attitude marks almost all of the innumerable texts, usually quite short, that he devoted to Jewish mysticism: they are at the same time a repository of precious data and a standing manifesto against mystical misbehavior.

3. A Judeo-Christian Monster

Even if Steinschneider’s writings usually avoided discussions of general ideas, we are lucky enough to have a brief text in which he summarizes his historical views on medieval Jewish mysticism. I am referring to the 13th chapter of his Jewish literature.30 The article was originally written in 1845–1847, for Ersch and Gru- ber’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie.31 In 1857 William Spottiswoode translated it into English, according to a version revised by the author. When Steinschneider wrote the text, he was only thirty years old, but managed to offer, for the ﬁrst time in Jewish bibliography, a clear sketch

29 Arab. Lit., p. VIII: “Glauben und Aberglauben [sind] siamesische Zwillinge, das Auge stets zum Himmel gerichtet aus einem Jammerthal!” 30 JL/E, pp. 104–115. 31 JL/E, p. V. See above note 11. steinschneider and the irrational 221 of a literary development encompassing some eighteen centuries. Also the 13th chapter, devoted to “Mysteries and Kabbalah,” is characterized by a lucid structure and by Steinschneider’s attempt to base his analysis on sound philological facts. The bibliographer’s pragmatic approach is stated at the beginning of this discussion of kabbalah: “The date of a written composition must be clearly distinguished from that of the origin of the doctrine, which has often been orally preserved. We can only form a deﬁnite judgement on the writings in their present shape; and in so doing more weight is given to language and style, quotations and reminiscences from writings whose dates are known, and the like than to the indications to be gathered from the contents.”32 It is no surprise that such a philological approach will immediately raise a major problem if confronted with kabbalistic literature. This problem had, for Steinschneider, the awesome name of pseudepigraphy. As we have seen, to solve the riddle of pseudepigraphic works was for him, most probably, both a curse and a blessing. Kabbalistic pseudepigraphy appears again and again in Steinschneider’s writings as his veritable bête noire but, at the same time, somehow as a garden of delight, because it gives him the opportunity of showing his unparal- leled ability in unmasking forgeries. I would say that pseudepigraphy is at the core of Steinschneider’s tormented attitude toward kabbalah. “The pseudepigraphy—he writes—may be explained by the author’s fear of giving his own name, or by the desire for the sanction of antiquity for new ideas, to which the usual explanation of Scripture (midrash) afforded but slight foundation.”33 To Steinschneider, writing a text under a false name is a capital offence in the realm of bibliography, and therefore he mercilessly chases culprits like, for instance, Moses de León, taking every occasion to assert their immoral behavior. Steinschneider had no doubt that, for those people, the main reason for pretending false authorship was greed for money.34 On the other hand, the very tricks used by kabbalists prone to pseudepigraphy added the spice of mystery to bibliographical recipes.

32 JL/E, p. 105. 33 JL/E, p. 105. 34 Cf. M. Steinschneider, s.v. Moses de Leon, in idem, CB, col. 1847–1856 nr. 6505; JL/E, pp. 110–111; Cat. Berlin, pp. 38–42, no. 193. 222 giulio busi

In modern scholarship, pseudepigraphy is considered a phenomenon intimately connected with a more general development of religion, since it represents a crucial method of bringing together tradition and innovation. For our bibliographer, however, pseudepigraphy was a dangerous device, an “abuse” imported into Jewish literature from foreign cultures.35 Steinschneider actually saw kabbalistic literature as a kind of no- man’s-land between two cultures. It is worth mentioning that a source of his in this ﬁeld seems to be Solomon Formstecher, a German philosopher and rabbi, who, in his Die Religion des Geistes, published in 1841, tried to outline Judaism according to the philosophical categories of Kant, Schelling and Hegel. Formstecher was convinced that the kabbalah represented a Judeo-pagan theosophy, which had tried to conciliate two irreconcilable opposites, that is to say the Jewish belief in a transcendent God and the pagan aspiration to describe the secret structure of the Godhead.36 Steinschneider quotes the very passage where Formstecher theorizes the spurious nature of kabbalah, and we can therefore legitimately suppose that the idealistic vision of Formstecher had an inﬂuence on the views of our bibliographer.37 But while the philosophical views

35 About the history of pseudepigraphy see W. Speyer, Die literarische Fälschung im heidnischen und christlichen Altertum: Ein Versuch ihrer Deutung (München: C.H. Beck, 1971); D. G. Meade, Pseudonymity and Canon: An Investigation into the Relationship of Authorship and Authority in Jewish and Earliest Christian Tradition (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1986); A. D. Baum, Pseudepigraphie und literarische Fälschung im frühen Christentum. Mit ausgewählten Quellentexten samt deutscher Übersetzung (Tübingen: Mohr Sibeck, 2001). In open polemic against the equivalence between pseudepigraphy and forgery, posited by the positivistic school, Scholem wrote in his Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, rev. ed. (New York: Schocken, 1946), p. 204: “Pseudepigraphy is far removed from forgery. The mark of immorality, which is inseparable from falsehood, does not stain it, and for this reason it has always been admitted as a legitimate category of religious literature of the highest moral order.” 36 S. Formstecher, Die Religion des Geistes, eine wissenschaftliche Darstellung des Judenthums nach seinem Charakter, Entwicklungsgange und Berufe in der Menschheit (Frankfurt a. M., 1841). On Formstecher see B. Kratz-Ritter, Salomon Formstecher: Ein deutscher Reformrabbiner (Hildesheim: Olms, 1991); H.-M. Haussig, “‘Heidentum’ und ‘Judentum’ in der jüdischen Religionsphilosophie des 19. Jahrhunderts: zu Steinheims ‘Offenbarung nach dem Lehrbegriffe der Synagoge’ und Formstechers ‘Religion des Geistes,’” in M. Voigts, ed., Von Enoch bis Kafka; Festschrift für Karl E. Grözinger zum 60. Geburtstag (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2002), pp. 43–53; Th. Meyer, “Salomon Formstechers ‘Religion des Geistes’: Versuch einer Neulektüre,” Aschkenas 13 (2003), pp. 441–460. 37 Cf. Steinschneider, JL/E, p. 109 note 18 and p. 305, referring to Formstecher, Religion des Geistes, p. 321. Formstecher’s Religion is quoted also in Pseud. Lit., p. 3; Pol. Lit., p. 343 note 13. In 1841, immediately after the publication of Formstecher’s steinschneider and the irrational 223 expressed in the Religion des Geistes are focused on the bipolar notions of Judaism and paganism, Steinschneider’s kabbalistic puzzle is more complicated and, one could say, much less consistent. In his dismissal of medieval Jewish mysticism, Steinschneider insists on the mixed nature of this kind of literature and proposes different alien sources for the kabbalah: “This abuse [of pseudepigraphy] . . . appears to have been influenced by non-Jewish apocryphal writings, e.g. those of Christian Gnostics, and especially those of Mohammedans,” and a few pages later: “The oriental mysticism of the sufi found a resting-place in the old remains of Judeo-Christian Gnosis.”38 So we are induced to conclude that, to Steinschneider, the actual alien source of kabbalah was not so much paganism but an unclear mixture of Christianity and Islam. He did not elaborate in depth on which influence should be ascribed to Muslim literature. More patent is the connection he saw between kabbalah and Christianity, which was represented by the Trinitarian lore and more generally by the emanationistic patterns of kabbalah. However, by stressing these foreign elements, Steinschneider mainly gave voice to a polemic strategy, aimed to deprive kabbalah of any sound Jewish lineage. That kabbalah was biased by Christianizing tendency was nothing new in the Jewish anti-kabbalistic stance. The most vociferous advocate of such a theory had probably been Leon Modena in his Ari Nohem, in which he described at length the danger of a missionary use of kabbalah by Christian Hebraists. Modena’s fears were quite legitimate in 17th-century Italy, and it is reasonable to suppose that the Ari Nohem, discovered and highly praised by the Wissenschaft des Judentums, contributed to Steinschneider’s suspicious attitude toward kabbalistic matters.39

Religion, Leopold Zunz wrote to the young Steinschneider, then in Prague, “to leave aside” the work [i.e. not to devote much time to it?]: “Lassen Sie die Religion des Geistes (Formstecher).” See A. Marx, “Zunz’s Letters to Steinschneider,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 5 (1933–34), pp. 95–153, esp. p. 113. 38 JL/E, pp. 105 and 108. 39 Ari Nohem: Streitschrift über die Echtheit des Sohar und den Werth der Kabbala [Heb.], Nach einer Handschrift zum ersten Mal herausgegeben, mit Einleitung, Vorrede, Inhaltsanzeigen und Anmerkungen versehen von J. Fürst (Leipzig, 1840) (Stein- schneider sharply criticized the philological shortcomings of this edition in his CB, col. 1347 no. 5745/6). Cf. H. E. Adelman, “Rabbi Leon Modena and the Christian Kab- balists,” in M. C. Horowitz (ed.), Renaissance Rereadings: Intertext and Context (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1988), pp. 271–286. Modena’s criticism of the kabbalah was endorsed and developed by S. D. Luzzatto, Dialogues sur la Kabbala et le Zohar et 224 giulio busi

But Steinschneider went further than Leon Modena. If the latter had feared that the kabbalah would work as a kind of Trojan horse for Christian apologetes, Steinschneider supposed a Christian origin of the mystical lore, thus putting a very negative light on the classical kabbalistic literature and especially on the Zohar: “The famous or infamous mystical Midrash on the Pentateuch ascribed to Simeon ben Jochai, entitled Zohar, certainly dates no earlier than the 13th century, where there was an intimate connection between Judaism and Christian- ity, and when false prophets and soothsayers appeared everywhere.”40 For Steinschneider it was more than a mere suspicion: the Zohar had played with fire, bringing into the dominion of Hebrew and Aramaic literature illegitimate ideas tainted by Trinitarian tendencies. To tell the truth, in this respect too Steinschneider was not completely original but relied on a similar theory expressed by Meyer Hirsch Landauer. Under the influence of Schelling, Landauer had written a couple of books dealing with a symbolic analysis of the Pentateuch— symbolic in the sense of Schelling’s Philosophie der Mythologie.41 During the last years of his short life, Landauer undertook a thorough analysis of the kabbalistic manuscripts kept in the Royal Library in Munich and, on the basis of this analysis, reached the surprising conclusion that the author of the Zohar was Abraham Abulafia and the Zohar itself was replete with Trinitarian contents. According to him, these Christianizing elements reflected the confused spiritual horizon of Abulafia and his adventurous career along the borderline between Judaism and Christianity.42 It has to be said that in his early works sur l’antiquité de la ponctuation et de l’accentuation dans la langue hébraïque [Heb.] (Gorice: Seitz, 1852). 40 JL/E, p. 110. 41 M. H. Landauer, Jehova und Elohim oder die althebraeische Gotteslehre als Grundlage der Geschichte der Symbolik und der Gesetzgebung der Bücher Moses (Stuttgart: Verlag der Cotta’schen Buchhandlung, 1836). Idem, Wesen und Form des Pentateuchs (Stuttgart, 1838). On Landauer see E. Goodman-Thau, Meyer Heinrich Hirsch Landauer: Eine Brücke zwischen Kabbala und aufgeklärtem Judentum, in eadem, G. Mattenklott and Ch. Schulte (eds.), Kabbala und Romantik (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1994), pp. 249–275. Already A. Geiger, Untitled review of M. H. Landauer, Jehova und Elohim, Stuttgart 1836, Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift für jüdische Theologie 3 (1837), pp. 402–413 criticized him for belonging to “the symbolical-philosophical school of Schelling.” 42 M. H. Landauer, “Vorläufiger Bericht über mein Studium,” Literaturblatt des Ori- ents 12–47 (1845), cols. 178–185, 194–196, 212–215, 225–229, 322–327, 341–345, 378–384, 418–422, 471–475, 488–492, 507–510, 525–528, 542–544, 556–558, 570– 574, 587–592, 709–711, 748–750. See especially cols. 343–344, 421, 472–473 (quoted by Steinschneider, Jewish Literature, p. 308 note 39) and 590 on the Zohar, Abulafia and Trinitarian symbolism. Although Steinschneider, ibidem, pp. 111–112, discards steinschneider and the irrational 225

Landauer himself believed that the Pentateuch reflected a triune conception of God and had therefore collected evidence from zoharic sources in order to support his theory.43 Later, however, he changed his mind on this subject and transformed the Trinitarian file concerning the Zohar into evidence against the book itself, which he named “ein juden-christliches Monstrum.”44 Even if he did not accept Abulafia’s authorship, Steinschneider was certainly influenced by Landauer and derived from him the idea that the Zohar was polluted by Christian tendencies.

4. A Plea for Kabbalistic Symbols

After the extensive text for the Allgemeine Encyklopädie, Steinschneider again touched upon the subject of kabbalah in quite a few writings and short comments.45 While remaining faithful to his earlier dislike for kabbalistic forgeries, he gathered much information about many important kabbalists. Even if he never overcame his aversion for authors like Moses de Léon46 or Hayyim Vital,47 their bio-bibliographic outlines, which he published in his Catalogus Librorum Hebreorum, are still useful today. Only a few kabbalists had the chance to be treated with more sympathy. Among Steinschneider’s favorites is Joseph ibn Wakar, whom he termed “one of the most interesting authors of his time.” The reason for Steinschneider’s unusually positive attitude is to be found in Ibn Wakar’s philosophical background: “Notwithstanding the fact that he was a follower of the kabbalah, he seems to have reached it coming from philosophical premises. He is a methodical, easily understand- able guide in such an obscure subject, but has fallen almost completely

Abulafia’s authorship of the Zohar, there is no doubt that the “Christianising” interpretation of the book proposed by Landauer had left its mark on him. 43 Cf. Landauer, Wesen und Form, pp. 81–106: “Die Trialogie des Sohar ” and “Alter der soharischen Lehren.” 44 Landauer, “Vorläufiger Bericht,” p. 590. 45 Steinschneider’s articles dealing with single kabbalists, either directly or in passing, are too numerous to be listed here. Among the most interesting texts in this field are the four articles of the series “Zur kabbalistischen Literatur” in HB 10 (1870), pp. 156–161; 14 (1874), pp. 32–36; 17 (1877), pp. 36–38; 18 (1878), pp. 18–22. 46 See at note 3 above. 47 CB, cols. 834–835 no. 4715; see also CB, s.v. “Isak Loria,” cols. 1133–1137 no. 5386. 226 giulio busi into oblivion, probably also because he dared to question the influence of the Book of the Zohar, which imposed itself with misleading authoritativeness.”48 It is no surprise that among the “good” kabbalists we also find another thinker strongly influenced by philosophy: Yohanan Ale- manno. Steinschneider showed a keen interest for Alemanno’s works, which he quoted positively on various occasions: “Alemanno keeps himself afar from the exegetical place of the kabbalah and even concerning superstition follows mainly ideas. He is convinced that the truths demonstrated by research or philosophy come directly to the chosen ones through inspiration, prophecy or tradition and then [through the chosen ones] reach the elected people.”49 Steinschneider even went so far as to defend Alemanno’s writing against Graetz, who had declared them “empty of intelligence [geistlos] and full of confusion.” “To say that they are empty of intelligence,” writes Stein- schneider, “is not appropriate at all.”50 Besides collecting bio-bibliographical data on various kabbalists, Steinschneider was among the first who analyzed some linguistic elements of kabbalistic writings and especially of the Sefer ha-Zohar, in order to demonstrate their medieval origin. In his book on the polemical literature in Arabic, he mentions, for instance, various anachro- nisms in zoharic Aramaic.51 Only occasionally did he enter into the details of kabbalistic doctrines. Albeit short, these remarks concerning the structure of mystical kabbalistic theories are not lacking in interest. It is worth mentioning that Steinschneider shows a keen sensitivity for the peculiar symbolic path followed by the kabbalists. Probably because he confined himself to fragmentary observations, scholars have so far overlooked Stein- schneider’s ideas concerning kabbalistic symbolism. Yet he seems to

48 Ges. Schr., pp. 171–180, esp. p. 171: “‘Don’ Josef [. . .] gehört zu den interessan- testen Schriftstellern jener Periode, insofern er, als entschiedener Anhänger der Kab- bala, dennoch von philosophischen Grundlagen aus zu derselben gelangt zu sein scheint, und als systematischer, leicht fasslicher Führer auf jenem dunklen Gebiete vielleicht auch darum fast ganz in Vergessenheit geraten ist, weil er die Geltung des eben mit trügerischer Autorität sich Bahn brechenden Buches Sohar anzufechten wagte.” 49 M. Steinschneider, “Jochanan Alemanno,” HB 21 (1881–1882), pp. 131–132, esp. p. 130. On Alemanno see also Alf., p. 244; Cat. Berlin, pp. II. 5–6; Ges. Schr., pp. 160, 176. 50 M. Steinschneider, “Jochanan Alemanno,” p.130 See also Graetz, Geschichte der Juden, 11 vol. (Leipzig: Leiner, 1896–1908), vol. 8, p. 246 and note 20. 51 Steinschneider, Pol. Lit., pp. 253–254, 259, 263, 308, 318. steinschneider and the irrational 227 have cherished the project of gathering an inventory of the metaphorical imagery of Jewish mysticism. In a few of his articles, Steinschneider speaks of a “Typik der Kab- bala.” The meaning of the German word “Typik,” which the protestant theologian Heinrich Ewald once rejected as barbarous,52 needs to be explained. In German theological works of the 19th century, “Typik” was often used in a Christological sense, as different from “Symbolik.” In this context, “Typik” indicated the study of the symbols within a chronological pattern, that is, within the relationship between Old and New Testament. More precisely, “Typik” concerned the images used in the Old Testament, which were seen as an anticipation of later New Testament concepts.53 Although Steinschneider of course was not interested in this Chris- tianizing perspective, he seems to have been inﬂuenced somehow by the distinction between “Typik” and “Symbolik” and to have considered “Typik” as a more general concept than “Symbolik.” While symbols represented for him the single images used by the mystics, with “Typik” he meant the network of concepts and images, which all together served to represent the unfathomable mystery of the God- head. In other words, he considered “Typik” the system of interre- lated images used by the kabbalists in order to allude to the invisible dynamic aspects of the Godhead.54 This a very reﬁned idea, which

52 H. Ewald, Jahrbücher der biblischen Wissenschaft, vol. 7 (1854–1855), Göttingen 1855, p. 214: “Wollte man heute die Biblische Typik wiederherstellen, obgleich schon dieser Name als ein undeutscher uns ehemals geschadet hat.” 53 Cf. K. Bähr, Symbolik des Mosaischen Cultus, 2 vols. (Heidelberg: Mohr, 1837– 1839), vol. 1, pp. 15–23, esp. p. 15: “Der Typus ist, wenigstens dem allgemein recipirten [!] theologischen Sprachgebrauch gemäss, zwar gleichfalls Symbol, jedoch mit wesentlicher Beziehung auf die Zeit [. . .] der Typus ist ein prophetisches Symbol”; U. Wüstenberg, Karl Bähr (1801–1874). Ein badischer Wegbereiter für die Erneuerung und die Einheit des evangelischen Gottesdienstes (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1996), pp. 110–112. 54 The historian Ludwig Preller used “Typik” in a similar sense, e.g. in his Deme- ter und Persephone: Ein Cyclus mythologischer Untersuchungen (Hamburg: Perthes, Besser & Mauke, 1837), p. 130, or in his essay on Friedrich Creuzer, published in 1838 (E. Howald, Der Kampf um Creuzers Symbolik [Tübingen: Mohr, 1926], pp. 144–151, esp. pp. 149, 151). The historical origin of such a conceptual (but not theological) relationship between “Typik” and “Symbolik” is probably Immanuel Kant’s Kritik der praktischen Vernunft (Critique of Practical Reason), I. 2. 45. See G. Reibenschuh, Menschliches Denken: Eine systematische Studie am Boden der Kantischen Philosophie (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1997), p. 236; C. Dierksmeier, Das Noumenon Religion: Eine Untersuchung zur Stellung der Religion im System der praktischen Philosophie Kants (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1998), pp. 40–48. 228 giulio busi grasps the essential peculiarity of kabbalistic thought and which would be developed later by Gershom Scholem, who nonetheless never mentions Steinschneider in this connection. Given Steinschneider’s dislike for kabbalah, it can be surprising that he went so far as to plan an accurate study of mystical “Typik.” As early as 1870, Steinschneider was aware of the importance of symbolic patterns for what he termed a “critical history of the kabbalah.” Notwithstanding his personal antipathy for Adolf Jellinek, he recognized that his colleague had already gathered some examples of kabbalistic “Typen.” At the same time he was convinced that Jellinek’s efforts were only the beginning and that most of the work remained to be done.55 It is interesting to note that Steinschneider thought that an inventory of symbolic patterns could also shed light on the exchange between philosophy and mysticism. In his review of David Kaufmann’s book on the Muslim grammarian and philosopher al-Batalyawsi56 our bibliographer summarizes his own methodological approach: “Only when we have gathered all the evidence and the relevant typology (Typik) has been analyzed in its individual symbols (which perhaps have passed into freemasonry as well), according to its comparisons, parables and the like, will it be possible to assess properly the relationship between different authors, the role played by each of them, and the attitude of the Jews toward their sources.”57 Sentences of this kind shed light on Steinschneider’s vision of the past and on his own personality as well. Steinschneider’s perspectives constantly reverse: after one sentence of sarcastic dismissal of kabbalistic forgeries, there often follows a striking methodological insight about the structure of mystical thought.

55 HB 10 (1870), pp. 156–161, esp. p. 157: “Jellinek hat die Bedeutung solcher Typen für eine kritische Geschichte der Kabbala wohl erkannt, aber leider nur begonnen.” 56 D. Kaufmann, Die Spuren al-Batlajûsi’s in der jüdischen Religions-Philosophie: Nebst einer Ausgabe der hebräischen Übersetzungen seiner bildlichen Kreise (Budapest: 1880). 57 HB 21 (1881–82), pp. 32–35, esp. p. 33: “Erst wenn das Material uns vollständig vorliegt, die betr. Typik in ihren einzelnen Symbolen (die vielleicht auch in Freimau- rerei eingedrungen), Vergleichungen, Parabeln etc erforscht ist, kann die Kritik die Afﬁliation der Autoren, den Antheil des einzelnen, die Stellung der Juden zu den Quellen nach Gebühr würdigen.” steinschneider and the irrational 229

5. Apologetic Objectiveness

Even if his approach to the irrational in general, and to the kabbalistic literature in particular, was—as we have seen—complex and multifarious, till now Steinschneider has widely been judged simply as a ﬁerce opponent to mysticism. In a famous passage of his essay on “The Science of Judaism— Then and Now,” Scholem styled Moritz Steinschneider as somebody who wanted to grant a “decent burial to Judaism.”58 This expression is taken from the necrology written by Gotthold Weil, a former student of Steinschneider, who in 1907 commemorated his teacher in the Zionistic periodical “Jüdische Rundschau.” According to Weil, Stein- schneider himself said, in front of his pupil, that “We have only one task left: to give the remains of Judaism a decent burial.”59 What is more, he pronounced these words pointing at his own books. Scholem must have seen such a gesture as a capital offence, a betrayal of the holy religion of the books perpetrated in the name of the “Wissen- schaft des Judentums.”60 Even if Scholem himself repeatedly expressed his admiration for Steinschneider’s bibliographical skill (certainly Scholem was well aware of Steinschneider’s deep knowledge of kabbalistic books and manuscripts), he considered our bibliographer as a kind of personiﬁ- cation of the cold distance with which the science of Judaism treated many aspects of Jewish history, if not the whole Jewish heritage. Is such a judgment fair? In the “Wissenschaft des Judentums” Scholem saw an “apologetic” attitude,61 and suggested that Steinschneider and his fellow historians

58 G. Scholem, “The Science of Judaism—Then and Now,” in idem, The Messianic Idea in Judaism and other Essays on Jewish Spirituality, Foreword by A. Hertzberg (New York: Schocken, 1995 [1st ed. 1971]), pp. 304–313, esp. p. 307. The article was first published in German as “Wissenschaft vom Judentum einst und jetzt,” Bulletin of the Leo Baeck Institute 9 (1960), pp. 10–20. 59 G. Weil, “Moritz Steinschneider,” Jüdische Rundschau 12 (1906–1907), no. 6 (Feb- ruary 8, 1907), pp. 53–55, esp. p. 54: “‘Wir haben’, so sagte er mir einmal, indem er auf die rings um ihn stehenden Bücher wies, ‘wir haben nur noch die Aufgabe, die Überreste des Judentums ehrenvoll zu bestatten.’” 60 In his autobiography, Scholem tells a somehow similar episode, referring to how Philip Bloch, another famous bibliographer—pointing to his books on Jewish mysticism—told him “What! Am I supposed to read this rubbish too?” Scholem, Von Berlin nach Jerusalem, p. 179: “Was, den Quatsch soll ich auch noch lesen?” 61 Scholem, The Messianic Idea, pp. 307–310. 230 giulio busi were led to underestimate and even to exclude from their reconstruction of Judaism all of the irrational aspects that could disturb their Christian contemporaries and put in danger the assimilation of Juda- ism into German society. However, at least in the case of Steinschneider, it is not true that he passed over the irrational with silence. In this respect, Scholem’s criticisms seems to be unfair, while the numerous texts Steinschneider devoted to magic and mystical authors show that he invested quite a bit of effort in bringing to light hitherto unknown aspects of what he himself termed “the literature of the night.” On the other hand it is true that he considered mysticism as a false path, as a doctrine based on superstition and deceit. In this sense, Steinschneider’s attitude can be defined “apologetic,” that is, hostile toward all that he saw as antag- onistic to reason. It is also probable that the insistence with which Steinschneider underlines the non-Jewish sources of mysticism and kabbalah is tightly related to his dislike. To affirm that kabbalistic lore showed clear Christianizing influences was a convenient way to exclude kabbalah from the canon of truly Jewish disciplines. Obviously such a stance was totally unacceptable for Scholem. In fact, even if he adopted and expanded the Gnostic hypothesis, Scholem had no interest at all in stressing any link between kabbalah and Christianity. Such a link would have contradicted his main thesis, that kabbalah represented an original and independent contribution of Jewish spirituality. As far as I know, Scholem never took seriously the Christianizing and Trinitarian hypothesis suggested by Steinschneider. Only post-Scholemian scholarship has dared to re-open the challenging case.62 A discussion of this topic goes beyond the limits of the present article. Suffice it here to remark that both Steinschneider’s plea for non-Jewish sources and Scholem’s claim of a spotless Jewish- ness of the kabbalah can be somehow considered “apologetic,” that is, at least in part based on a-priori ideological assumptions. Between the 19th and 20th centuries, Jewish mysticism turned out to be an important battlefield where conflicting visions of Judaism clashed: the

62 See especially Y. Liebes, Christian Inﬂuences on the Zohar, in idem, Studies in the Zohar, Translated from the Hebrew by A. Schwartz, S. Nakache, P. Peli (Albany: State Uni- versity of New York Press, 1993), pp. 139–161. steinschneider and the irrational 231

Zionist Scholem chose as a corner stone of a national heritage the very doctrine Steinschneider discarded as basically non-Jewish. In my opinion, even if it is possible that the early kabbalistic texts were inﬂuenced also by Christian culture, there is no doubt that their authors conceived them as a tool for defending Jewish religious and cultural identity. But, again, this is not the place to discuss thoroughly this extremely problematical and daring subject. I would just like to conclude by saying that, notwithstanding the role played by ideology, Scholem’s contribution to the history of kabbalah is widely acknowledged, while Steinschneider is hardly recognized as a pioneer in kabbalistic studies. It is time to become well aware of the enormous contribution our bibliographer made by collecting much crucial information on individual kabbalists and on their books. Even more interesting, and so far fully ignored, is the fact that the rationalist Steinschneider did not conﬁne himself to the external side of mysticism, that is, to bio-bibliographical elements: albeit in short remarks, he analyzed the kabbalah from an internal point of view and sketched some crucial methodological principles necessary to deal with the symbolic patterns of mysticism. 10. STEINSCHNEIDER’S INTERSTITIAL EXPLANATION OF MAGIC*

Giuseppe Veltri

Magic is a cultural phenomenon which escapes precise and easy definitions. Scholars of past centuries speak of its nature mostly by inviting comparison, while polemically or apologetically distinguishing it from other phenomena such as religion, human science, and scientific developments. Magic clearly does not possess an existence of its own. Rather, it relies on those relationships that obtain among the perform- ers and actors of magical practices. Thus it emerges in an interstitial space where the magician is the protagonist: the magic circle, the magician’s sole preserve. The “work” of a magician always presupposes the existence of a real or imaginary audience without which the magical act cannot take place. Magic is that in-between space—an interstitial component of political and social pertinence. The aim of my paper is to outline some of the interstitial characteristics of magic, drawing on a short text published in 1900 by Moritz Steinschneider, who was the first to understand and describe the phenomenon of those in-between spaces of human perception, alleged experience, and their results.1 I shall start by summarizing the research on Jewish magic carried out between the Enlightenment and the increasing interest in anthropology and ethnology at the end of the 19th century. Then I intend to analyze the three definitions of magic suggested by Steinschneider, namely: the maieutic function of magic between ignorance and science, the erroneous and pathological role of magic between error, prejudice and mania and, finally, its role between religious faith and distorted beliefs.

* For the English editing of this essay I am indebted to Marco Alexander, Jerusalem. 1 “Der Aberglaube. Vortrag im Verein junger Kauﬂeute in Berlin,” für den Abdruck erweitert [Sammlung gemeinverständlicher wissenschaftlicher Vorträge, no. 346] (Berlin: Verlag- sanstalt und Druckerei A.-G. [vormals J. F. Richter], 1900), 34 pages. This text, which is an expanded version of a lecture, is being re-published below pp. 569–592. Page numbers in what follows refer to this reprint. 234 giuseppe veltri

“Encyclopaedizing” Magic

The study of rabbinic texts on magic, superstition and healing was not the primary interest of the scholarly advocates of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. Quite the contrary, they avoided broaching the subject, largely because they had an enlightened vision of Judaism as a rational religion. They feared that by focusing on magic, the entire Jewish tradition risked being viewed as an extension of the medieval mystical movement of Kabbalah. Nevertheless, from the second half of the nineteenth century onward, the intentional ignoring of the topic evolved quite naturally into an expression of (1) a rationalist polemic against the “obscurantist” earlier centuries, when Judaism was affected by magical beliefs, and (2) an anti-apology for the Jewish adoption of “foreign customs,” non-Jewish magical traditions and superstitious practices, mostly encompassing Kabbalah and Jewish mysticism. A second reason for the interest in magic and superstitions that needs to be considered was the typical tendency of the new philological “science” of Judaism to collect and “encyclopaedize” every piece of literature and tradition, whether Jewish in origin or by adoption. In the “manifesto” of the Wissenschaft des Judentums composed by the “father” of the new “science,” Leopold Zunz, the presence of magic traditions in rabbinic literature is denied, or at least their signiﬁcance belittled.2 In his monumental work on liturgy of 1832 (Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden, historisch entwickelt) no mention is made of the huge number of magical traditions scattered throughout liturgical texts, for example, in siddurim, mazorim (prayer books) and their corresponding fragments. Yet, discussions on the value of magic and superstition were, by no means, a terra completely incognita. In 1807, Johann Andreas Lebrecht Richter (1772–1844) had already published some thoughts

2 Leopold Zunz, Etwas über die rabbinische Litteratur. Nebst Nachrichten über ein altes bis jetzt ungedrucktes hebräisches Werk (Berlin: Maurer’schen Buchhandlung, 1818); reprint Gesammelte Schriften, ed. Zunz’ Stiftung (Berlin, 1875–1876; Hildesheim, New York: Olms, 1976), p. 14: “Die unheilige rabbinische Litteratur hat keine hierobotanica, hierozoica, physicas und medicas sacras aufzuweisen, obgleich es billig gewesen wäre, nicht stets vom Aberglauben zu schreien, ohne seine Gegnerin, die Physik, angehört zu haben. Ihr zur Seite geht die Medicin, gestützt auf die Kenntnisse der Natur, des Menschen (d.h. Psych- nebst Anthropo- und Physiologie) und die geschickte Anwen- dung dieser Kenntnisse.” steinschneider’s interstitial explanation of magic 235 and reflections on the value of magic in religion.3 These were published in Sulamith, the first German-language periodical for Jewish and non-Jewish readers alike.4 The first modern treatise on Jewish magic, however, was written in 1850 by Steinschneider’s uncle, Gideon Brecher (1797–1873),5 a physician in Prossnitz (Prostîjov), Moravia, who viewed magic as an incidental phenomenon in Judaism, adopted from the non-Jewish environment in the biblical and rabbinic periods. A similar approach was taken by Rabbi David Heymann Joël (1815–1882), who collected rabbinic legal and narrative sources on the topic.6 His book (published in 1883) aimed to prove that biblical and tannaitic sources (rabbinic sources of the first two centuries CE) were free of magical beliefs and practices—an erroneous view also shared by Israel Finkelscherer (1817–1898) in his short book on the medieval Jewish philosopher Maimonides in 1894.7 In addition to these publications, some detailed studies on particular aspects of rabbinic folklore appeared at that time. Among these, mention should be made of the works of Max Grünbaum (1817–1898) in 18778 and Israel Lewy (1841–1917) in 1878,9 who pointed out parallels with Jewish magic in the Graeco-Roman world. The scholars who wrote these early studies of ancient Jewish magic and superstition were primarily concerned with upholding a rationalist image of Judaism in the post-Enlightenment period, rather than with actually analyzing ancient rabbinic discourse. Nevertheless, their work is important in mapping out magic in ancient Jewish literature and

3 “Fragmente einiger Betrachtungen: Über den Aberglauben in der Religion,” Sulamith 1 (1807): 82–86. 4 On the journal see Werner Grossert, “‘Sulamith,’ die Friedliebende aus Des- sau (1806–1848): Die erste jüdische Zeitschrift in deutscher Sprache und deutscher Schrift,” in Jüdische Bildung und Kultur in Sachsen-Anhalt von der Aufklärung bis zum National- sozialismus, eds. Giuseppe Veltri and Christian Wiese (Berlin: Metropol, 2009), pp. 133–146. 5 Das Transcendentale, Magie und magische Heilarten im Talmud (Vienna: Klopf und Eurich, 1850). 6 Aberglaube und die Stellung des Judenthums zu demselben, 2 vols. (Breslau: Jungfer, 1883). 7 Moses Maimunis Stellung zum Aberglauben und zur Mystik (Breslau: Schottländer, 1894). 8 “Beiträge zur vergleichenden Mythologie aus der Hagada,” Zeitschrift der deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 31 (1877): 183–359. 9 “Über die Spuren des griechischen und römischen Alterthums im talmudischen Schriftthum,” Verhandlungen der Versammlung Deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner (Leipzig, 1877–1888): 77–88. 236 giuseppe veltri tradition—an indispensable foundation stone in the modern scientiﬁc study of the topic. And this is also the case with the great bibliographer Moritz Steinschneider. Steinschneider concerned himself with magic in several publications. Already in 1848, he had published the magic folkloric book Alpha Beta de-ben Sira.10 In 1863, he devoted himself to the genre of oneirology11 and, twenty years later, to the genre of divination.12 Another example of his immense curiosity manifested itself in his concern with the meaning of numbers. In two articles, he investigated the symbolic meaning and values of the numbers 70, 71, 72 and 73 in both Islam and Judaism.13 These publications are also of great philological, cultural and historical interest, being mostly encyclopaedic accounts of traditions and texts. His “theoretical” concern with magic is episodic, with (to my knowledge) only one notable exception, namely his lecture before the Asso- ciation of Young Merchants (Verein Junger Kauﬂeute) in Berlin in 1900, to which I shall devote my attention here.14 This text of Steinschneider’s is little known, because it was printed as part of an obscure series, contrary to Steinschneider’s declared policy of publishing only in high- brow journals—a marketing ploy that revealed a “mercantile spirit” [“merkantiler Geist”], as Ludwig Geiger called it.15 Yet, his concern with magic belonged to the pedagogical resources of his enlightenment program, a preoccupation fully evident in his lecture.

10 Alfa Beta de-Ben Sira: rishonah u-sheniyah, ‘im ha-perush ha-yashan ha-kolel meshalim u-ma‘asiyot u-midrashot. Alphabetum Syracidis (Berlin: Typis Friedlaender, 1848); new edition with German translation by Dagmar Börner-Klein, Das Alphabet des Ben Sira (Wies- baden: Marixverlag, 2007). 11 “Das Traumbuch Daniels und die oneirokritische Litteratur des Mittelalters,” Serapeum 24 (1863): 193–201, 209–216. 12 “Losbücher,” HB 6 (1863): 120 ff. 13 “Die kanonische Zahl der muhammedanischen Secten und die Symbolik der Zahl 70–73, aus jüdischen und muhammedanisch-arabischen Quellen nachgewiesen,” Zeitschrift der deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 4 (1850): 145–170; 57 (1903): 474– 507. 14 See note 1. Associations of Young Merchants were very popular in 19th- and 20th- century Germany. See the entry in Meyers Großes Konversations-Lexikon, vol. 10 (Leipzig: Bibliographisches Institut, 1907), p. 772; online at http://www.zeno.org/Meyers- 1905/A/Kaufm%C3%A4nnische+Vereine (last accessed December 2, 2008). 15 In Berliner Tagesblatt no. 160, quoted by W. Ahrens, “Zum Charakterbilde Moritz Steinschneiders,” Ost und West 16:8 (1916): 349–352. steinschneider’s interstitial explanation of magic 237

According to Steinschneider’s worldview, magic literature belongs neither to the beautiful nor to the true and good.16 It therefore has no place in the Olympus of the intellectual canon. He then states that magic belongs to the notorious, yet unreﬂected things that cannot be explained—a task which scholarship will set itself in future generations, he adds hopefully. To accomplish his pedagogical undertaking, he enumerates three aspects of the subject to focus on: examples of magical beliefs, comparisons with other similar concepts and ﬁnally linguistic considerations.

Between Ignorance and the Sciences: The Maieutic Function of Magic

The concept of superstition, according to Steinschneider, is quite difficult to define because of its very nature. In his opinion, a scholar should consider whether an incorrect belief is per se a superstition.17 With this initial premise, Steinschneider, albeit indirectly, steers the debate toward such a worldview. Accordingly, superstition encompasses the sphere of mistakenly interpreted phenomena—one that juxtaposes the heliocentric vision against the biblical and Christian mapping of the universe—and defies definition unless we consign it to the history of human follies (Thorheiten des Menschen). However, there is a positive aspect in the quest for knowledge, which he introduces with the words of Ludwig Börne: “I am impressed by Providence which is able to fish in such muddy waters.”18 Steinschneider’s interpretative perspective—at least here—patently envisions magic as the matrix of the sciences: magic and superstition have some notable credentials. Prominent among these is their role as midwife at the birth of the sciences.19 He cites the well-known examples of alchemy, the mother of chemistry, and astrology, the forerunner

16 On the concept, see Steinschneider’s Allgemeine Einleitung in die jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters. Vorlesungen ( Jerusalem: Bamberger & Wahrmann, 1938 [1859–1897]), p. 12. 17 “Der Aberglaube,” p. 570: “Wir wollen den Begriff des Aberglaubens finden; ist jede falsche Ansicht von der Welt und Natur ein Aberglaube?” 18 “Der Aberglaube,” p. 570: “Ich bewundere die Vorsehung, die so im Trüben zu fischen versteht.” 19 Ibid., p. 570 and, more precisely, on p. 575. 238 giuseppe veltri of astronomy. “A capable chemist really produces gold [i.e., earns money], without magic formulas and conjuration.”20 With regard to astrology, Steinschneider claims that initially the heavens became an object of observation for humankind for a very practical reason, which was to align the life cycles on earth in accordance with the movements of the stars and of the planets. However, at a later time, humans believed that heavenly designs informed human life through the correlation between the macro- and the microcosmos. Here, the alert reader can detect the first contradiction in Stein- schneider’s reasoning, which elicits the question: was astrology the beginning of astronomy, or did astronomy take the first step before being overwhelmed by beliefs in astrology? The origin of astronomy is not to be found in astrology, but it is the discovery of astronomy which constitutes the fundation for the belief of astrology.21 I shall try to explain this by quoting Diodoros Siculos (flourished between 60 and 30 BCE) on the Chaldeans, who are credited with having invented astronomy or astrology. Diodoros of Sicily tells us about the principles of Chaldean philosophy, thereby suggesting a reason for the dissemination of astrology throughout the Mediterranean world.22 Now, as the Chaldaeans say, the world is by its nature eternal; it neither had a first beginning nor will it at a later time suffer destruction; furthermore, both the disposition and the orderly arrangement of the universe have come about by virtue of divine providence; and to-day whatever takes place in the heavens is in every instance brought to pass, not at haphazard nor by virtue of any spontaneous action, but by some fixed and firmly determined divine decision. And since they have observed the stars over a long period of time and have noted both the movement and the influence of each of them with greater precision than any other men, they foretell to mankind many things that will take place in the future. Diodoros tells us that the scientific activity of the Chaldeans was based on their observation of the stars over a long period of time; i.e., they first empirically registered the positions of the heavenly bodies and

20 Ibid., p. 571: “Ein tüchtiger Chemiker macht wirklich Gold ohne Zauberformel und Beschwörung.” 21 On Jewish astrological literature, see the very extensive work of Reimund Leicht, Astrologumena Judaica: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der astrologischen Literatur der Juden (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006). 22 Diodoros II, 30:1ff. Eng. tr. Charles H. Oldfather (Cambridge MA, London: Harvard University Press, 1946), p. 445. steinschneider’s interstitial explanation of magic 239 then calculated mathematically the movements of the planets and the stars. Their first aim was doubtless to calculate the calendar so as to predict when a new month would begin, or when an intercalary month was needed. With their proven experience in calendar calculation, they extended their authority by claiming to be able to determine also the influence of the heavenly bodies on human beings, which is what astrology claims. The success of astrology is thus nothing but the success of astronomy. Steinschneider’s thesis, positing the significance of magic in the beginnings of science, is, of course, in line with the view that was to be supported by Lynn Thorndike’s (1882–1965) theory of the origin of scientific thought—a weak thesis as everyone concerned with the history of science knows. It is erroneous to ascribe to magic such a role, because magicians reject the first principle of science, namely the connection between cause and effect and the inference from an effect to its cause. Although the magician may assert that the process of causation should be taken into consideration, he rejects the idea that it constitutes the sole explanation of a phenomenon. Marcel Mauss (1872–1950) wrote: Magic is linked to science in the same way as it is linked to technology. It is not only a practical art. It is also a storehouse of ideas. It attaches great importance to knowledge—one of its mainsprings. In fact as far as magic is concerned, knowledge is power. [. . .] It quickly set up a kind of index of plants, metals, phenomena, beings and life in general, and became an early store of information for the astronomical, physical, and natural sciences. It is a fact that certain branches of magic, as astrology and alchemy, were called applied physics in Greece. That is why magicians received the name of physikoi and that the word physikoi was a synonym for magic.23 Medicine and astrology are the only two empirical and theoretical—i.e. “scientific”—bodies of knowledge valued by Rabbinic Judaism. They were acceptable even though the written Torah issued an anathema against physicians and astrologers on the grounds that their activity was not consistent with divine unity and providence. This hints at a solution to the question of how foreign ideas entered Judaism: the

23 Marcel Mauss, A General Theory of Magic, tr. Robert Brain (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1972), p. 143 (originally in Sociologie et anthropologie, Paris [1902] 19663, p. 136; mentioned in Peter Kingsley, Ancient Philosophy, Mystery, and Magic. Empedocles and Phythagorean Tradition [Oxford: Clarendon, 1995], p. 229). 240 giuseppe veltri usefulness of medicine and the “scientific” solidity of astrology were generally accepted in late antiquity (although, to be sure, there were discussions on the efficacy of medical practices and on the reliability of astrologers). Medicine and astrology are discussed also in the Palestinian Tal- mud, namely in the context of foreign knowledge, the so-called darkhe ha-emori. This means that, according to the rabbinic way of thinking, foreign knowledge could not be rejected outright as idolatrous, or harmful, even though an interdiction had been expressed in the Torah. This allows us to point out an aspect of Rabbinic Judaism that should not be underestimated: the rabbis’ attitude to the study of the sciences as a complementary aspect of their engagement with the Torah. New and old sciences are accepted or rejected only on the basis of their practical-pragmatic, “scientific” value, and not because they are supported or condemned by the Torah. The Babylonian Tal- mud summarizes this aspect in the well-known dictum in Megillah 16a: “Whoever, even among the nations of the world, speaks words of science/wisdom, has to be considered a wise man” (kol ha-omer divre hokhmah afillu be-ummot ha-‘olam niqra’ akham). We now come back to Steinschneider’s definition of magic as serving a maieutic function for science. Here it should be stressed that Steinscheider held very positivist views (in the spirit of the Enlighten- ment) concerning the impact of the sciences on society: their role is to progressively illuminate the darkness of ignorance. Steinscheider recognizes, however, that this is an ongoing process whose end cannot be foreseen. With the introduction of the categories of time and timelessness, education and enlightenment, Steinschneider attempts to answer the problem posed by the persistence of non-scientific magic into his own supposedly enlightened epoch. He does so by projecting the elimination of superstition and pseudo-science onto an indetermi- nate future. By the same token, he recognizes the incapacity of human beings to free themselves from the obscurantist heritage.

Between Error, Prejudice and Mania

In his second attempt to define magic, Steinschneider adopts a psychological categorization, placing magic in the vicinity of error (Irrtum), prejudice (Vorurtheil) and mania/illusion (Wahn). Following a line of argumentation based on development theories, he defines an erroneous steinschneider’s interstitial explanation of magic 241 opinion as lack of knowledge. The phenomenon of reddish dust which occasionally covers the earth was interpreted as bloody rain:24 erroneous knowledge led to the emergence of superstition. Conversely, superstition can lead to erroneous judgment, as when a drop of molten lead falls into cold water on St Sylvester’s eve and the resultant object is perceived as a coffin nail and interpreted as a death omen. Even worse than an error, according to Steinschneider, is mania, because it is attractive and emotionally intriguing. It often is connected with the will to produce changes in the future of one’s own existence. Error and superstitions are often inactive (untätig) and innocuous (unschädlich), whereas mania, Steinschneider maintains, often brings about death. Magic and superstition may produce mania if they come from an inner desire to dominate and control someone or something. Steinschneider’s reference to mania is very important. At the end of the 19th century, we find a notable production of literature on mania.25 Nietzsche, for example, draws on the notion of mania to categorize the founders of religions as a psychological phenomenon.26 The third category with which Steinschneider deals is prejudice. Prejudice is not the passive absence of knowledge but rather a “positive illness”: it is a “tumor” (Aftergebilde), a pathology of the human intellect that alters the perception of reality. Whereas a healthy intellect reaches the judgment stage only after having examined matters, prejudice posits rules a priori and judges reality by them. According to Steinschneider, the only remedy for prejudice is enlightenment about ourselves and about the nature of our intellect. The source of Steinschneider’s analysis of prejudice is, of course, the Enlightenment philosophy and literature of the 19th century. The Brockhaus Bilder-Conversations-Lexikon, published in 1841, for example, defines prejudice in the same manner, and also suggests self-therapy

24 See John S. P. Tatlock, “Some Mediaeval Cases of Blood-Rain,” Classical Philology 9: 4 (1914): 442–447. 25 See, e.g., A. Krauss, “Der Sinn im Wahnsinn,” Allgemeine Zeitschrift für Psychologie XV/XVI (1858–1859): 617–671; A. Kazodowsky, “Zusammenhang von Träumen und Wahnvorstellungen,” Neurologisches Centralblatt (1901): 440–447, 508–514; Oskar Pfister, “Wahnvorstellung und Schülerselbstmord. Auf Grund einer Traumanalyse beleuchtet,” Schweizerische Blätter für Schulgesundheitspflege 1 (1909): I–V. 26 Daniel Havelmann, Der “Apostel der Rache.” Nietzsches Paulusdeutung (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2002), pp. 114–115. 242 giuseppe veltri as a healing method, namely in the form of philosophy and reason.27 Another source of Steinschneider’s philological and cultural interest is the well-known work by Jacob Grimm on magic and superstition.28 This very influential book was both an encyclopedia of materia and a source of ancient and medieval literature and folklore. Even Israel Lewy and subsequently Saul Lieberman directly and indirectly follow Grimm’s pioneering work in their commentaries on the magical material of the Tosefta’s Shabbat 6–8. Grimm understands superstition (Aberglaube) as false belief ( falscher Glaube), following the current definition of and ideas on mania and probably drawing on German idiomatic expressions such as Zauberwahn (witchcraft)29 and Traumwahn (belief in the prophetic might of dreams).30 However, Steinschneider’s closest source would seem to be J. W. Goethe’s Zur Farbenlehre (Theory of Color), where the Weimar poet wrote: Who can say [. . .] of himself that along the most serious activities and doing, and in addition to belief and hope, he does not indulge in superstition, mania, lightheartedness, and prejudice?31 The reader cannot miss here the faint tone of hopeless resignation in view of an omnipresent phenomenon, whose perseverance, both

27 Vol. 4 (Leipzig, 1841): “Vorurtheil, eine vorgefaßte, nicht von Erfahrungen und von keinen oder doch nur unhaltbaren Gründen unterstützte Meinung von irgend etwas, also ein Irrthum, welcher dadurch entstand, daß ohne oder vor der Prüfung geurtheilt wurde. [. . .] Bekämpfung der Vorurtheile ist insbesondere eine Aufgabe der Philosophie, aber auch die Vernunft schon fordert von Jedem, sich von ihnen möglichst frei zu machen und zu erhalten.” Text online: http://www.zeno.org/ Brockhaus-1837/A/Vorurtheil (last accessed January 3, 2009). 28 Jacob Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, vol. 2, 4th ed. (Berlin: Meyer, 1875–78; reprint Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, 1968), 923 ff. and passim. 29 A very common word for magical practices; see the inﬂuential contemporary work by Joseph Hansen, Zauberwahn, Inquisition und Hexenprozess im Mittelalter und die Entstehung der großen Hexenverfolgung (Munich, Leipzig: Oldenbourg, 1900). 30 For all these expressions see Deutsches Wörterbuch, 16 vols., eds. Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1854–1960); http://germazope.uni-trier.de/ Projects/WBB/woerterbuecher/woerterbuecher/dwb/wbgui (last accessed January 2009). 31 “Denn wer kann sagen, [. . .] daß er sich nicht neben dem ernstesten Thun und Leisten, wie mit Glauben und Hoffnung, so auch mit Aberglauben und Wahn, Leicht- sinn und Vorurtheil hinhalte.” Zur Farbenlehre (Materialien zur Geschichte der Farbenlehre) (Tübingen, 1810), vol. 2, p. 159; quoted in Goethe-Wörterbuch, eds. Berlin-Brandenbur- gische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen & Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, vols. 1–4: A-inhaftieren (Stuttgart: Kohl- hammer, 1978–); http://germazope.uni-trier.de/Projects/WBB/woerterbuecher/ woerterbuecher/gwb/wbgui (last accessed January 2009). steinschneider’s interstitial explanation of magic 243 within society at large and in the scientiﬁc community, cannot be precisely described. A similar sentiment is perceptible in Steinschneider’s lecture as well.

Between Faith and Distorted Beliefs

Steinschneider’s very brief last consideration is devoted to philology as a method of knowledge. He introduces the role of theology in purifying magic and superstition. Referring to the word “Aberglaube” (superstition) and thereby to “Glaube” (belief ), he identifies the former as something that is “above,” “over” or “against” belief: Aberglaube is accordingly a “distortion of belief” (Verdrehung des Glaubens), an uprising of feelings (Ausschreitung des Gefühls) and a demeaning of the human spirit (Erniedri- gung des menschlichen Geistes). Following a typical topos going back to the Enlightenment, Steinschneider claims that progress in theological and religious knowledge helps to protect against superstition, i.e., to ward off magical beliefs and concepts, to prevent their defiling belief itself and causing it to deteriorate. Steinschneider connects the development of the magical arsenal with the Zoroastrian dichotomy between good and evil, which in Christian- ity becomes a (Gnostic) division or an incompatibility between divine and diabolical powers. Steinschneider is right in referring back to Babylonian influences in Occidental systems of thought in the ancient period to explain the diabolical origins of magic. However, the view that in the magical act a demon is at work goes back to the Augus- tinian interpretations of magic,32 while in Judaism it first appears in the Babylonian academies of late antiquity.33 The doctrine of the two powers of good and evil, espoused by the ancient Iranian peoples,

32 For the identification of magic with demonology in Augustine, see Jean-Claude Schmitt, “Les ‘superstitions,’” in Histoire de la France religieuse, eds. Jacques Le Goff and René Rémond, vol. 1, Des dieux de la Gaule à la Papauté d’Avignon (des origines au XIVe siècle) (Paris: Seuil, 1988), pp. 416–551; Robert A. Markus, “Augustine on Magic: A Neglected Semiotic Theory,” Revue des études augustiniennes 40 (1994): 375–388; see also Thomas O’Loughlin, “The development of Augustine the bishop’s critique of astrology,” Augustinian Studies 30 (1991): 83–103. 33 See bavli Sanhedrin 67b: R. Aibo bar Nagri said (in the name of ) R. Hiyya bar Ex 7:11) refers to) ְבּ ַל ֲה ֵט ֶיהם ,Ex 7:22) refers to the effect of demons) ְבּ ָל ֵט ֶיהם :Abba the effect of sorcery. For it has been written: The glow of the sword, which swings around itself (Gen 3:24). R. Abbaye said: He who cares for the vessel he uses, operates through demons; he who does not care, operates through magic. 244 giuseppe veltri thus seems not to have had a great impact on conceptions of magic. Concerning the nature of magic as opposed to divine power we have a clear statement in the Babylonian Talmud Sanhedrin 67a: sorcery (kishshuf ) “lessens the power of the divine agencies”34—an assertion preceded by a quotation from Deut 4:35: “[He is God] there is none else beside Him.” The Talmudic text understands this as an affirmation that there is no power except for the divine power: i.e., when a sorcerer operates, he does so on behalf of God’s power. This is why the magician lessens God’s power. This theological view implies that God has the power to act without His explicit will. In this last paragraph, Steinschneider harks back indirectly to two opinions commonly held among scholars of magic: that demons are fallen divinities, and that magic has something to do with the perseverance of pagan beliefs and customs, which neither Judaism nor Christianity nor Islam totally eradicated. This idea had already been heavily emphasized in the 1870s by Jacob Grimm, who also concluded with a paradoxical remark: We are happy to be rid of so many superstitions. Yet, they filled the lives of our ancestors not only with fear, but also with consolation.35 A touch of consolation also appears in Steinschneider’s last consideration, albeit with regret about the persistent presence of magic in the industrial and scientific Age of Enlightenment, when he quotes Lessing: The superstition in which we were brought up Will, though we have seen through it, thereby not lose its power over us.—Not all are free who mock at their own fetters.36

34 Cf. also Simcha Fishbane, “‘Most Women Engage in Sorcery’: An Analy- sis of Sorceresses in the Babylonian Talmud,” Jewish History 7 (1993): 27–42, here pp. 28–9. 35 Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, p. 960: “Wir sind froh des vielen Aberglaubens auch ledig zu gehen; doch erfüllte er das Leben unsrer Voreltern nicht allein mit Furcht, sondern auch mit Trost.” 36 Lessing, Nathan IV, 4: Der Aberglaub’ in dem wir aufgewachsen Verliert auch wenn wir ihn erkennen darum Doch seine Macht nicht über uns. Es sind Nicht alle frei, die ihrer Ketten spotten. English translation by Christoph von Mettenheim, in his “Einstein, Popper and the Theory of Relativity,” The Critical Rationalist 1 (1996): 1–10, online at http://www .tkpw.net/tcr/volume-01/number-03/node2.html (accessed 1 March 2010). steinschneider’s interstitial explanation of magic 245

Conclusion

Steinschneider was neither a philosopher nor a theoretician. He was a historian of books and manuscripts, an erudite scholar of Orientalia, above all a philologist. In his preoccupation with magic he portrayed its “primitive” nature as the absence of the scientific mindset. Such a mindset he understood as being characterized by logical activity and as a storehouse of philosophical and theological ideas; yet it also included a conception of the divine. He was intrigued, if not troubled, by the continued presence of magic in an enlightened era. On this score he had nothing better to offer than Jacob Grimm, who argued that the demarcation between religion and magic, science and superstition, was too blurred to allow for clear-cut criteria for identifying it. Steinschneider was fully aware that the nature of magic was no simple phenomenon. It was useless to simply relegate superstition to the credulity of the masses, as Grimm expressly put it, because the phenomenon was too widespread in every stratum of society. In my opinion, the nature of magic is to be found in the process which leads from the hidden to the “unhidden” and vice-versa. It is neither the origin nor the goal that are magical, but rather the way (or path) leading from one to the other. It is characteristic of magic that elements from one culture pass into the other, without the receiver being able or willing to understand the transmitted contents. Magic is thus the “science” in-between par excellence. This observation leads to the remark that the magician’s interest is not in theory but in the effects of a given text: he focuses, e.g., on the practice of bringing about cures through magical formulae hic et nunc, in the here and now. It is not (only) the sense of magic that is (un)covered, but above all the energy which it sometimes unleashes when certain conditions are fulfilled. How- ever, even practice crowned by success does not necessarily mean that a rule can be derived from it; i.e., the goal of magical practice is not to arrive at a scientific theory. Still, magic does extend the spectrum of possible acts and effects. Magic is the empirical science par excellence, as becomes most evident in its affinity with medicine. Both sciences apply to human beings in their respective localities and times and both lay claim to the empirical character of their achievements. It is at this point that we encounter the paradox of the human sciences, to which magic belongs. In other words, in the humanities, knowledge is empirically bound by the parameters of their respective times, but their claims are empirically absolute, beyond any time framework. 246 giuseppe veltri

Empirical absoluteness means that only the magician sees that something is absolutely important for a particular individual, but this is not always deﬁnable or valid for everyone. Contrary to certain speculations which may claim otherwise, the center of every magical concept lies in man himself, in his very own humus. It is not super-stitio that inspires man’s worldview and value system, but only that which is perceived anthropologically as the “I” or ego. Everything else serves him, just as colors and internally envisioned images serve a painter. Equipped with this awareness, the “magician” sets out to study the provable and the proven, the possible and the impossible; things that he can use as materia magica. The magician is neither monotheist nor polytheist, only a pragmatist. This element of a-theistic or “over”-theistic value makes the magician a perpetual interstitial element in society, between power and belief. II. THE FATHER OF HEBREW BIBLIOGRAPHY 11. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER AND THE DISCIPLINE OF ‘HEBREW MANUSCRIPTS STUDY’

Judith Olszowy-Schlanger

In 1897, Moritz Steinschneider published in Leipzig his Vorlesungen über die Kunde hebräischer Handschriften (Lectures on the Discipline of Hebrew Manuscripts).1 Admittedly the least influential of his works, the Vorlesungen are nonetheless fundamental for our understanding of Steinschneider’s oeuvre and of his comprehensive approach to Hebrew manuscripts, their history and description.2 It is in this perspective, rather than as a historian of the Wissenschaft des Judentums or a biographer of Steinschneider’s, that I have turned to the study of the Vorlesungen. This paper describes my appreciation of Steinschneider’s methodological and theoretical premises in his study of Hebrew manuscripts. The Vorlesungen are the published lectures that Steinschneider delivered at the Veitel-Heine-Ephraim’sche Lehranstalt from 1859 until his death. The date of the beginning of his lectureship at the Veitel- Heine-Ephraim’sche Lehranstalt is crucial in Steinschneider’s life: at the age of 43 he finally succeeded in obtaining his first permanent, regular appointment, and he was to teach there for the next 48 years. The Vorlesungen, written after years of lecturing at the Institute, are the fruit of decades of cataloguing and research on Hebrew manuscripts.3 By 1897, Steinschneider had already published his main catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts and printed books as well as the epoch-making Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher,

1 Vorlesungen über die Kunde hebräischer Handschriften, deren Sammelungen und Verzeichnisse, in Beiheft [Supplement] zum Centralblatt für Bibliothekswesen 19 (Leipzig: Otto Harras- sowitz, 1897). 2 Through the Hebrew translation by Israel Hadad, edited with notes by A. M. Haberman ( Jerusalem: Mossad ha-Rav Kook, 1965), the Vorlesungen also played a role in the development of the modern discipline of Hebrew palaeography and codicology, as practised in Paris and Jerusalem. 3 M. Steinschneider, CB (1852–60); Cat. Leiden (1858); Cat. Munich (1st ed. 1875, 2nd ed. 1895); Cat. Hamburg (1878) and ﬁnally Cat. Berlin (1st vol. 1878, 2nd vol. 1897, the same year as the Vorlesungen). The monumental HÜ was published in Berlin, in 1893. 250 judith olszowy-schlanger based on the in-depth study of over a thousand medieval Hebrew and Judaeo-Arabic manuscripts. Despite this impressive background of closely studying manuscripts, Steinschneider considered his Vorlesungen to be an imperfect introduction to a deserving subject. In the Foreword, he explains that this work was not the comprehensive and well-structured handbook that he had initially intended to write, but a printed version of his lectures. The project of an introduction to the study of Hebrew manuscripts had been conceived at least ten years before the publication of the Vorlesungen. In a footnote to a bibliographical overview of Hebrew palaeography (1887), Steinschneider explains that in 1872–3, 1875–6 and 1878–9 he had hoped, without success, to prepare for print his lectures delivered at the Veitel-Heine-Ephraim’sche Lehranstalt, with the help of one of the students.4 Ten years later, in the Vorlesungen, he regretted that various personal and objective reasons made the work on a comprehensive handbook impossible for him, but that the less ambitious format of the printed lectures was to be maintained. Among the reasons he listed are his advanced age as well as the haphazard and multilingual state of publications on manuscripts in the previous 60 years. In apologizing for not having realized his original goal, he expressed disappointment that “die Kunde hebräischer Handschriften” (Hebrew Manuscript Studies) had not yet attracted much attention in any formal institution or establishment of learning despite its importance and usefulness. What in Steinschneider’s opinion is “Hebrew manuscript studies”? To answer this question, let us see ﬁrst what he excluded from the preoccupations of this discipline. From the start, he clearly stated that his aim was not to deal with Hebrew palaeography in its narrow sense, which to him meant the history of the Hebrew script itself.5 He duly

4 M. Steinschneider, “Zur Literatur der Hebräischen Palaeographie,” Centralblatt für Bibliothekswesen 4 (1887): 155–165, esp. p. 163, note 1 (talking about the usefulness of published facsimiles of Hebrew manuscripts for such an introduction to the study of Hebrew manuscripts): “Eine Monographie darüber existirt noch nicht. Ich habe in den Jahren 1872/3, 1875/6 und 1878/9 in der Veitel Heine’schen Lehranstalt über hebräische Handschriftenkunde gelesen, bin aber nicht dazu gekommen, das Vor- lesungsheft für den Druck zu redigiren. Ein damaliger Zuhörer, jetzt Professor, wollte mir darin Hilfe leisten, wurde aber gleichfalls von anderen Arbeiten absorbirt, und gab mir die Blätter bald zurück.” 5 Vorlesungen, p. 24: “Unsere Aufgabe ist nicht hebr. Paläographie im engsten Sinne des Wortes, d. h. Untersuchungen anzustellen über Entstehung der alten hebr. Gennunt.” the discipline of ‘hebrew manuscripts study’ 251 listed a bibliography of his predecessors’ works,6 but agreed with his master, Leopold Zunz, that these were totally inadequate. Also he reiterated Zunz’s appeal for the necessity of a Hebrew thesaurus comparable to Champollion’s Egyptian textbooks. With this wish not solely to advance the study of the Hebrew script, Steinschneider sets for the Vorlesungen a more ambitious aim: it is a manifesto for the study of manuscripts as a whole, in their various external and textual aspects. To understand his approach, let us go back to the definition of “palaeography” as practiced in Stein- schneider’s time and before. This discipline and its very name were first defined by the French scholar Bernard de Montfaucon (1655– 1741) in his groundbreaking Palaeographia Graeca (Greek Palaeography), published in Paris in 1708.7 Montfaucon’s study—the first to deal with a non-Latin script—was a real breach in the framework for the study of ancient manuscripts set by the pioneering De re diplomatica libri VI by Dom Jean Mabillon (1632–1707), published in 1681.8 Unlike De re diplomatica, which still focused on the authenticity and legal credentials of medieval charters that were still valid in the juridical system of the ancien régime,9 Palaeographia Graeca gave a starring role to the script and its various forms represented in manuscripts: that of the object of the scientific study itself. Both French authors were quoted in the Vorlesungen and their work duly appreciated. However, Montfaucon’s exclusive focus on the shape of particular letters and his total disregard for other aspects of the manuscripts were largely insufficient in Steinschneider’s view.

6 He referred to the Hebrew script samples in Oluf Gerard Tychsen, Tentamen de variis codicum hebraicorum Vet. Test. Mss. Generibus, a Iudaeis et non-Iudaeis descriptis: eorum in classes certas distributione et antiquitatis et bontatis characteribus (Rostock: Koppe, 1772); Johann Joachim Bellermann’s examples of Ashkenazi script in De usu palaeographiae Hebraicae ad explicanda Biblia sacra. Dissertatio inauguralis theologica (. . .) (Halle: Henning, 1804); Wilhelm Gesenius, Geschichte der hebräischen Sprache und Schrift: eine philologisch- historische Einleitung in Sprachlehren und Wörterbücher der hebräischen Sprache (Leipzig: F. C. W. Vogel, 1815; repr. Hildesheim: G. Olms, 1973); Charles William Wall, An Examination of the Ancient Orthography of the Jews, and of the Original State of the Hebrew Bible, 3 vols. (London: Whittaker and Co., 1835–1841). Among the more recent works, he mentioned E. A. Steglich, Schrift- und Bücherwesen der Hebräer zur Zeit des alten Bundes (Leipzig, 1876), and his own samples of the Hebrew square script, in the above-cited article (note 4) in Centralblatt für Bibliothekswesen 4 (1887). 7 Palaeographia Graeca sive de ortu et progressu litterarum Graecarum (Paris: L. Guerin, 1708). 8 Jean Mabillon, De re diplomatica libri VI (Paris, 1681). 9 O. Guyotjeannin, J. Pycke, B.-M. Tock, Diplomatique médiévale (L’Atelier du médié- viste 2) (Turnhout: Brépols, 1993), esp. pp. 17–20. 252 judith olszowy-schlanger

Despite positively acknowledging these French founding fathers, Steinschneider was following more recent German developments. Indeed, since the early 19th century, in Germany scholars were broadening the script-oriented approach to include other physical aspects of handwritten texts. In Leipzig, the librarian Friedrich Adolf Ebert (1791–1834) wrote in 1825 his Zur Handschriftenkunde, where he made a clear distinction between diplomatics, palaeography, epigraphy and what he calls “Bücherhandschriftenkunde,” deﬁned by him as “the science of manuscripts dealing with their outer and inner form.” A better formulated distinction between “Paläographie,” understood as “a decipherment and study of the script,” and “Handschriftenkunde,” deﬁned as “a study of the material and technical aspects of the manuscripts, their production and conservation,” was made, for non-Hebrew manuscripts, of course, by Ludwig Traube (1861–1907) in Vorlesun- gen und Abhandlungen I: Zur Paläographie und Handschriftenkunde (Munich, 1909)—published twelve years after Steinschneider’s Vorlesungen.

Thus it seems that, at least since the work of Ebert in 1825, the distinction between the study of the script and the “science of manuscripts” was perfectly operational in the world of German philology and that Steinschneider’s approach in his Vorlesungen reflects this contemporary scientific approach. As we shall see, the understanding of the “Kunde” of Hebrew manuscripts in the Vorlesungen is very close to Traube’s somewhat later interpretation of the term. Although Steinschneider thought it unnecessary to elaborate an explicit definition of “Hand- schriftenkunde,” taking for granted its scope and limits, the contents of the Vorlesungen allow us to gauge the nature of his approach. First, he states that the subject of his study may appear to concern only the external and superficial matters (“Äusserliches”), stresses, however, that nothing is absolutely ”external” in the humanities (“Gebiete des Geistes”), as much depends on the author’s point of view.10 Steinschneider begins his book with a short Introduction, giving its raison d’être and a credit to his teacher Leopold Zunz, whom he describes as the first among the Jews to approach the study of manuscripts in a scientific way. The author recalls that Zunz himself had credited Christian scholarship with historically analyzing the field and had lamented that the Jews themselves sadly showed little historical

10 Vorlesungen, p. 1. the discipline of ‘hebrew manuscripts study’ 253 awareness. The Introduction deals with major methodological issues, such as the relationship between the “science of manuscripts” and the “science of books.” Steinschneider points out that in modern times the definition of “books” refers exclusively to “libri impressi,” printed books. Therefore, the use of the terms “manuscripts” and “books” would immediately imply a chronological distinction of “before” and “after” the invention of printing. Steinschneider rejects this chronological distinction, of course without denying the importance of the intellectual revolution brought about by printing. He explains that the difference between printed and handwritten books is merely a technical one, and that printing derived from manuscripts.11 By stressing the continuity between the handwritten and printed forms of the book, Steinschneider firmly places the study of manuscripts in the center of the history of book production. He then proceeds to locate the history of books on the inevitable arbor scientiarum, where he classifies it as a part of the history of Hebrew literature, claiming that the history of the Hebrew book and that of Hebrew literature are so intimately related that at times it is impossible to differentiate between them.12 After such methodological preciseness, Steinschneider deals with three aspects of the Hebrew manuscripts in three respective chapters: (i) the book materials (parchment, paper, ink) and, very briefly, the Hebrew script; (ii) the definition of “manuscript” and “codex”; and finally (iii) an overview of the major collections, public and private, of Hebrew manuscripts according to countries, followed by the bibliography concerning their contents and catalogues. Steinschneider pays great attention to the description of the parchment. In this respect, he is heavily indebted to Griechiche Paläographie by Victor Gardthausen (1843–1925), and, like this author, presents an oversimplified view on parchment dating: the older parchments are rough and yellow, the recent ones white and smooth. In line with his late 19th-century milieu, Steinschneider believes in progress with time: the finest parchments are the latest ones, those produced in the 15th century. Thus, differences in parchment are ascribed to chronological factors alone, with no insights whatsoever into the use of different techniques and ingre- dients that would result in differences in texture, color and thickness

11 Vorlesungen, p. 3: “so ist doch wiederum des Druck aus Hss. entstanden.” 12 Vorlesungen, p. 2: “Die Geschichte der jüdischen Bücherkunde kann von der der Literaturgeschichte nicht getrennt werden.” 254 judith olszowy-schlanger of the parchment, independently of the date of manufacture. Nor is there any mention of different qualities of parchment being used for different types of texts in the same period, or according to the financial means of the scribes or book owners, or to the availability of writing materials. The only factor taken into consideration, although still chronological, concerns the change in the parchment’s color according to its state of preservation. Steinschneider quotes from Tychsen’s Tentamen13 the statement that the dark-yellow color of the parchment may be due to its poor state of preservation. Steinschneider adds an interesting assessment of his own: the darkest yellow manuscripts are those coming from private collections, such as those of Oppenheimer or Michaelis (today both at the Bodleian Library), and the darkness of the manuscript is proportional to the intensity of its specific smell. The source of both is identified by Steinschneider as “smoking” [!], the manuscripts having been exposed to tobacco fumes in the private libraries of their gentlemen owners.14 The script itself, considered to be one of the external aspects of manuscripts, is discussed very briefly. Steinschneider limits his interest to defining different styles of Hebrew script: the square, the cursive and the intermediary style between the two, the division still used today. He devotes some attention to the traditional terminology used to designate the styles, paying particular attention to Elias Levita and his term mashait for the intermediary or semi-cursive.15 It is noteworthy that in Steinschneider’s discussion of the script the major recent works and developments are conspicuously missing. In the work of a bibliographer of Steinschneider’s caliber, especially in view of his meticulous mention of older works, such as those of Tychsen, Gesenius or Beller- mann, this absence is surprising and calls for explanation. Indeed, the study of the Hebrew script in the previous two decades had already self-consciously moved away from the theology- and biblical criticism-oriented approach, and had benefited from several important works of a philological and historical nature. The first impetus to establish Hebrew palaeography, that is, the study of the Hebrew script, on a firm basis came from the well-known debate on the authenticity

13 Tychsen, Tentamen, p. 292. 14 Steinschneider dealt with the issue in more detail in “Americana, Nicotiana,” in Deborah 40, no. 1, 5 July 1894. 15 The term was resuscitated by Salomon Birnbaum in his The Hebrew Scripts, Part Two: The Plates (Leiden: Brill, 1954–1957). the discipline of ‘hebrew manuscripts study’ 255 of the funerary Hebrew inscriptions found in the Crimea (Tchufut Kale) by Abraham Firkovitch and initially described in his autobiography Avnei Zikkaron (1872). The early dating proposed by Firkovitch was disputed by Abraham Harkavy (1835–1919) and later by its initial supporter Daniel Chwolson (1819–1911). In view of the doubts about Firkovitch’s methods, Chwolson called for a solid, reliable palaeography as the only basis of deciding matters. He intended to lay the foundations for such a sound palaeography in his Corpus inscriptionum hebraicarum, published in St. Petersburg and Leipzig, in 1882.16 This book included a table illustrating the development of the Hebrew script from its beginnings to the 15th century, as established by the Semitist and epigraphist from Strasbourg, Julius Euting (1839–1913, whose palaeographical tables also illustrated Gustav Bickell’s Hebrew grammar [Leipzig, 1877]). After Chwolson’s publication, which admittedly focused on epigraphy, the script of Hebrew manuscripts had come under scrutiny in Adolf Neubauer’s works, notably in his The Introduction of the square characters in biblical MSS. and an account of the earliest MSS. of the Old Testament and Facsimiles of Hebrew Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library illustrating the various Forms of Rabbinical Characters, a splendid in-folio appendix to his Catalogue of the Hebrew Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library (Oxford, 1886). In this latter text, Neubauer proposed a classification of the Rabbinic (“semi-cursive” in today’s terminology) Hebrew script according to geographical criteria on the basis of some 40 facsimiles of documents from Palestine, Egypt, Spain, Italy and Ashkenaz, pointing out specific characteristics of each of the local variations of the script. Neubauer’s innovative work was highly praised by Adalbert Merx (1838–1909) in his Documents de paléographie hébraïque et arabe (1894), for having succeeded in fixing the geographical criteria; according to Merx, “the trained eye of a man who has at his disposal a great number of manuscripts progressively learns to distinguish with ease and some degree of certainty these different geographical characteristics”—at least as far as the cursive and rabbinic characters were concerned, the square characters being more conservative or “hieratic” because of the

16 D. Chwolson, Corpus Inscriptionum Hebraicarum, enthaltend Grabschriften aus der Krim und andere Grab- und Inschriften in alter hebräischer Quadrat-schrift sowie auch Schriftproben aus Handschriften vom IX.–XV. Jahrhundert (St. Petersburg and Leipzig, 1882). 256 judith olszowy-schlanger respectfulness of pious scribes.17 At the same time, Merx stressed the shortcomings and insufficiencies of Neubauer’s work: the insufficient geographical distinctions did not allow for a full classification, nor did the 40 facsimile samples (published in the Appendix to the Bodlei an Hebrew-manuscripts catalogue) constitute an adequate basis for a sound typology. What was needed? A much larger corpus of dated manuscripts that would enable the setting up of different chronological series within Neubauer’s geographical subdivisions. “Le point essentiel aujourd’hui c’est la chronologie,” explained Merx. As it turned out, the serious scientific study of Hebrew script in such parallel geographi- cally and chronologically ordered series had just been made possible by the invention of new techniques of image reproduction. “The discovery of photography was necessary for palaeography to be really established.”18 Surprisingly, whereas Steinschneider quotes the 18th- and early 19th-century works, he does not refer to these recent developments and important debates concerning Hebrew manuscripts. This absence of references to his contemporaries is puzzling, especially since he was perfectly aware of Chwolson’s and Neubauer’s works, which he in fact mentioned and, in the case of Neubauer, reviewed briefly, in his “Zur Literatur der Hebräischen Paläographie.”19 Steinschneider criticized some of the identifications proposed by Neubauer, the shortcomings of the organization of the volume, the fact that only half of the documents reproduced bear an explicit date, and the high price of the volume charged by the Clarendon Press, but he nonetheless admitted that the book had some usefulness.20 Why then did he not mention these recent works on palaeography in the Vorlesungen? One might be tempted to think that the Vorlesungen are the printed version of the

17 A. Merx, Documents de paléographie hébraïque et arabe (Leiden: Brill, 1894), p. 3: “L’oeil exercé d’un homme qui a à sa disposition un grand nombre de manuscrits, arrive peu à peu à distinguer facilement et avec assez de sûreté ces différents carac- tères géographiques. Mais la distinction se fait plus facilement pour l’écriture cursive et rabbinique que lorsque l’on a affaire à l’écriture carrée des manuscrits bibliques. Celle-ci, grâce à une certaine réserve pieuse des copistes a toujours conservé un carac- tère spécial et pour ainsi dire hiératique.” 18 Paléographie, p. 3: “Il fallut la découverte de la photographie pour que la paléo- graphie pût réellement se constituer.” 19 In Centralblatt für Bibliothekswesen 4 (1887): 163–165. 20 Ibid., p. 165: “Die Facsimiles sind, abgesehen von einer weiteren wissenschaftlichen Verwerthung für die Paläographie, ein sehr gutes Mittel für Anfänger sich im Lesen neuhebräischer Schriftarten zu üben.” the discipline of ‘hebrew manuscripts study’ 257 lectures as delivered in 1872–3, 1875–6 and 1878–9, without any revisions or reworking. But such is not the case: Steinschneider did refer to a number of newer works which had appeared just before the publication of the Vorlesungen. In some respects, he was keeping his bibliography up to date, although on the whole the book was considered to be of a lesser scientific quality than Steinschneider’s other works by its reviewer, Abraham Berliner.21 We observe as well that his Vorlesungen devote little attention to the subject of the newly recovered fragments from the Cairo Genizah: admittedly, Steinschneider was not yet aware of all the achievements of his ex-disciple Solomon Schechter, who had just made his momentous trip from Cambridge to Cairo, presumably just when Stein- schneider was sending Vorlesungen to print. Steinschneider does mention briefly some “Oriental fragments” acquired in 1893 by the Bodleian, but only to signal that several palimpsests were among them.22 Then he again notes the “manuscripts about which news from Cairo has been spreading for quite some time, to which apparently belong the fragments that the Bodleian has just recently acquired.”23 It seems that Steinschneider missed the thrill both of discovering the then oldest known Hebrew manuscripts and of participating in the methodological discussions about the Hebrew script. This was probably due to his lack of interest in the study of the script as such and to his focus on Hebrew codices and their production techniques as a new and promising line of enquiry. The focus on “codicology” rather than on “palaeography,” already evident in the stress on the writing materials in Chapter One of the Vorlesungen, is consequently and logically pursued in the discussion on the codex and those of its aspects which could have a bearing on the origins and history of a manuscript: the binding, colophons (“epigraphs” in Steinschneider’s terminology), various notes of ownership, of sale, family lists, calendars and finally the marks left by censors. Steinschneider devotes considerable attention to defining the “codex.” He begins by simply stating that “a codex is something that belongs

21 In Zeitschrift für hebräische Bibliographie 3 (1899): 58–62, here p. 58. 22 Vorlesungen, p. 24: “In neuester Zeit (1893) erwarb die Bodleiana eine Anzahl von Fragmenten aus dem Orient, darunter einige Palimpseste.” 23 Vorlesungen, p. 64: “Aus Kairo ist seit längerer Zeit die Nachricht von Mss. verbreitet, zu denen wohl auch die Fragmente gehören, welche kürzlich die Bodleiana erworben hat.” 258 judith olszowy-schlanger together.”24 But, he observes, the “belonging together” is often the result of the work of a binder who stitches the leaves, without necessarily paying attention to the contents. This obviously has the potential to create bibliographical havoc. For Steinschneider, the best example of such a binder-caused havoc is the collection of the Bodleian Library, which is replete with such composite volumes. Of course, such disor- der makes it difficult to justify a thematic division of catalogues (this is precisely the division used in Neubauer’s catalogue of the Bodleian manuscripts). Thus, the definition of the codex presented by Stein- schneider is formulated from the point of view of the manuscript’s present state: a book which has its designated place on a library bookshelf. It corresponds to what modern codicologists call simply “a bound volume,” a book in its most tangible sense, enclosed between its covers which can include, at times, several codices bound together or, in other cases, only a part of one original codex. This definition is complemented by another that takes the copy of the manuscript as its point of departure. “A manuscript codex is in fact a manuscript by one hand, even if copied at different times, as the colophons sometimes indicate, and assembled together from the very outset,” dixit Steinschneider.25 Thus, the unity of the codex depends on the copyist being one person, but does not imply the unity of the contents: Steinschneider adduces at this point the example of Rashi’s commentary on the Book of Job, which came notoriously incomplete from the hands of the author and which subsequent scribes supplemented with a commentary by Jacob ha-Nazir. Steinschneider also refers to several manuscripts that contain a testimony by a scribe who found a lacuna in an exemplar he was copying, briefly noted this fact with something like lo matzati yoter (“I found no more”) and continued to copy other texts in the same manuscript. Steinschneider’s definition of the codex thus stresses its genetic coherence: the unity from the point of view of book production, rather than that of the copied text. Indeed, the same codex can be a puzzle- copy from works of different authors, like the aforementioned Rashi’s commentaries, or a well-planned anthology of different texts by different authors, all copied in a coherent sequence. Such a genetic unity from the point of view of the copyist’s intention to create a book is the

24 Vorlesungen, p. 32: “Genauer ist ein Codex etwas Zusammengehöriges.” 25 Vorlesungen, p. 32: “Ein Handschriftencodex ist eigentlich eine Handschrift von derselben Hand, wenn auch aus verschiedener Zeit, durch Epigraphe bedingt, ursprünglich zusammengeheftet.” the discipline of ‘hebrew manuscripts study’ 259 basis of today’s definition of a “codicological unit”—a more precise term that replaces the term “codex,” reserved today for the generic designation of the form of the book—gatherings of quires of folded sheets of papyrus, parchment or paper—as opposed to the form of the scroll or rotulus. Steinschneider observes that unity of time is not part of the definition of the codex, since there are books on which a single copyist worked over a lengthy period of time, but with significant intervals. Correspondingly, he makes the identity of the handwriting a conditio sine qua non for the identity and definition of a codex: a codex is what is copied by the same hand. In formulating this definition, Stein- schneider overlooks the cases of manuscripts which, though conceived from the onset as one unity, were eventually copied by several different scribes, often belonging to the same family, who worked together. Sometimes a hand of a disciple or a trainee contributes a few shaky lines in the middle of a page professionally copied by a specialist. In such cases, the handwriting and the identity of the copyist are certainly not decisive in defining the codex: the few unskillful lines by an unpro- fessional hand are not a codex within the codex copied by the master, and we are still talking about the same codicological unit, because it was intended as such from the very beginning. But how can one be sure about the original intention, especially when several handwritings can be detected in a book? Well, every modern codicologist begins the study of a manuscript with a detailed analysis of the composition of its quires, that is, its gatherings of folded sheets of writing support. Any irregularities in the book’s composition, such as single folios inserted into quires or differences of size or numbers of the double sheets, are the first signal possibly indicating the lack of codicological unity. Moreover, the examination and measuring of the quires is about the only quantifiable part of the book historian’s work and therefore the token of scientific objectivity, in contradistinction to the study of the script and handwriting, which is to a large extent dependent on the subjective qualities of the human eye and the varying experience of a palaeographer. To a certain degree, Steinschneider did realize the importance of a book’s composition. He advocated a detailed examination of the volume’s completeness as an absolute prerequisite for its study: “On first viewing a codex,” he says, “it is necessary to use a measuring tape or a ruler, like for a check-up of fresh army recruits, to determine if all their members are perfect, that is, if all their pages are in place.” Thus, the element of counting and measuring is part of Steinschneider’s methodology of manuscript description. He gives examples of manuscripts which contain pages from other manuscripts 260 judith olszowy-schlanger bound together by mistake. However, in his definition of the codex, he does not refer to the description of the quires and to their role as a measure of the unity and coherence of a codex. To conclude, Steinschneider’s “Handschriftenkunde,” as described in the Vorlesungen, touches upon various aspects of Hebrew manuscripts: their production, writing support, their vicissitudes once they came from under the scribe’s calamus, or quill, until they found their way into modern collections and were described in a catalogue. He is less concerned with the script itself. His is a complex discipline, distinct from, but related to the study of the texts transmitted by the manuscripts. This discipline is similar in scope and method to today’s “codicology” or “archaeology of the book.” As we have seen, Steinschneider’s approach originated in the German tradition of research developed since the early 19th century, such as the aforementioned definition of “Bücherhandschriftenkunde” by Ebert, further developed and systematized by Ludwig Traube about a decade after the publication of Steinschneider’s work. Indeed, Traube’s Munich school is cited as the foundation for the developments which led to the creation of “codicology” among Latin and Greek palaeographers in the late 1920s in France and Belgium. However, little attention was paid to the almost century-old German school of thought on manuscripts which had led to Traube’s lucid methodology. Building upon Traube’s distinction between “Paläographie” and “Handschriftenkunde,” the French archivist-historian Charles Samaran (1879–1982) proclaimed in 1927 the independence of the “science of manuscripts,” to be now called “codicography.” This term was replaced a few years later by another neologism, “codicology,” coined by the French Greek palaeographer Alphonse Dain (1896–1964). “Codicology” was finally consecrated by its inclusion in the Grand Larousse Encyclopédique in 1959. It was also in the 1950s that further reflection on the role of codicology systematically took place. In 1956, a Belgian Latin palaeographer, François Masai (1909–1979), proclaimed in the journal Scriptorium the total independence of codicology from the philological sciences and its new definition as “the archaeology of the most precious monuments of a civilization: its books.”26 The French school of codicology thus distanced

26 F. Masai, “La paléographie gréco-latine, ses tâches, ses méthodes,” Scriptorium 10 (1956): 281–302. the discipline of ‘hebrew manuscripts study’ 261 itself from its philologically oriented German inspirators by focusing on the book as a cultural artifact, a vehicle that transports and reveals a historical message independently of the text it happens to carry. Would Steinschneider approve of such a drastic development? Not really, I think. He viewed the manuscript in its completeness, as a world unto itself, composed of both its physical, tangible elements and its textual, linguistic ones. In his approach, he never went beyond the classical definition of Handschriftenkunde as an auxiliary historical science. I believe that the pioneering methodological reflections on the “science of manuscripts” that Steinschneider was the first to apply to the Hebrew manuscripts tradition remain today a matter of actuality. His appeal that the science of Hebrew manuscripts “fully deserves to occupy its legitimate place as a tool for studying the historical sources in learned institutes and universities and to become a subject of dedicated monographs and encyclopaedias” has been only partly fulfilled, and remains a challenging prospect for the future. 12. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER AND THE LEIDEN MANUSCRIPTS

Jan Just Witkam

Introduction

How and under what conditions Moritz Steinschneider wrote the catalogue of the Hebrew manuscripts in Leiden, the Netherlands— this is the subject of the present paper.1 Which collections required his expertise and what earlier descriptions could he use? What were the trends in bibliography when Steinschneider was invited to come to Leiden? What sort of catalogue did the owners of the manuscripts wish him to compile? What has been the fate of his catalogue in our day? These are a few of the questions that I will try to answer. It must have been some forty-five years ago that I first read an article by Moritz Steinschneider. His name did not ring a bell at the time. I was a beginning student, merely looking for any information on Ibn Sīrīn’s work on the interpretation of dreams, and I had come across a reference to one of Steinschneider’s articles.2 The acquaintance could not have been made in a better way. Immediately I had arrived in medias res: pseudepigraphical literature, obscure themes shifting between Muslim, Jewish and Christian spheres of culture, together with numerous references to periodicals, which were, if not obscure, then at least obsolete and impossible to find. This has always been the problem with Steinschneiderian bibliographies, and not for nothing did Heinrich Malter and Alexander Marx decide to collect the numerous bits and pieces of this “father of Hebrew bibliography” into his collected works.3 The plan to publish “Collected Works” was proposed to the master on his 90th birthday, March 30, 1906, and it received his blessing.

1 Cat. Leiden [Catalogus codicum hebraeorum bibliothecae academiae Lugduno-Batavae], auc- tore M. Steinschneider (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1858). 2 Moritz Steinschneider, “Ibn Shahin und Ibn Sirin. Zur Literatur der Oneirokri- tik,” ZDMG 17 (1863): 227–244. 3 Gesammelte Schriften von Moritz Steinschneider, vol. I (Berlin, 1925). Steinschneider’s honoriﬁc title, “father of Hebrew bibliography,” comes from the article about him in the English Encyclopaedia Judaica. 264 jan just witkam

However, the ﬁrst, and apparently only, volume to appear was published in 1925. Steinschneider had let loose his 1,400 or so bibliographical children with a massive quantity of references. Upon reading the Preface, which describes the preparatory activities of Malter and Marx for this great undertaking, one loses courage altogether. It was their ambition not only to republish Steinschneider’s works, but also to supplement these with his own notes and remarks on his own articles, which can now be found in the Steinschneider collection in the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. No wonder the project misﬁred. There is yet another aspect of Steinschneider’s work that effectively restrains us from fully utilizing his knowledge. Here I mean not his use of the Latin language in some of his works, but rather his running remarks addressed to other bibliographers who had overlooked important details which had not escaped his sharp eye. Relevant and true as these comments may have been at that time, now they tend to detract from the readability of many of his articles and books. Stein- schneider’s article on Daniel’s Book of Dreams,4 which I also read as a beginning student, is a case in point. Half of it is about pseudepigraphical literature and oneirocritics and the other half consists of his ongoing discussion with the scholarly world. Not only have the issues, hotly debated back then, faded away, but also the adversaries he tilted have long since died.

The Leiden Hebrew Manuscripts

The Leiden University Library, founded in 1575, had already obtained important Hebrew and other Oriental manuscripts as early as 1609. They are connected with the name of the great Joseph Justus Scaliger (1540–1609), but not all of them had in fact been in Scaliger’s possession, contrary to what later librarians and bibliographers, including Moritz Steinschneider, thought.5 It is a small collection of Hebrew manuscripts of less than twenty volumes, including texts in

4 M. Steinschneider, “Das Traumbuch Daniels und die oneirokritische Litteratur des Mittelalters. Eine bibliographische Studie,” Part 1, Serapeum 24 (1863), no. 13: 193–201. 5 A. Hamilton, “‘Nam tirones sumus.’ Franciscus Raphelengius’ Lexicon Arabico- Latinum (Leiden 1613),” De Gulden Passer 66–67 (1988–1989): 557–589. (On pp. 586–588 is: “Appendix. Raphelengius’ Arabic Manuscripts in the Leiden University Library.”) moritz steinschneider and the leiden manuscripts 265

Judeo-Italian, Judeo-German and Judeo-Arabic, reﬂecting all sorts of traditional Jewish scholarship and Jewish activity in transmitting the sciences. In or shortly after 1665 the Hebrew manuscripts bequeathed by Levinus Warner (1619–1665) to the Leiden library arrived from Con- stantinople in Leiden. Scaliger’s Hebrew manuscript collection could be characterized as a typical Renaissance European collection of Hebrew manuscripts, but Warner’s manuscripts were different, at least to a certain extent. His collection did indeed contain the usual subjects also represented in Scaliger’s collections but, in addition, its numerous Karaite texts were a conspicuous novelty. For a number of years Warner had been the Dutch Republic’s representative to the Sublime Porte and, being a bibliophile and scholar as well as a diplomat, he had succeeded in assembling an important collection of some 1,100 manuscripts. Of these some one hundred volumes contained numerous Hebrew texts. His Karaite manuscripts, which are not particularly ancient for the most part—some of them may even have been commissioned by Warner from his Karaite friends in Constantinople— give that collection an entirely distinct character. Today these two bequeathed collections still constitute the centerpiece, both in quantity and in quality, of the Leiden Hebrew manuscript collection. New acquisitions since 1667 have never been able to rival the Scaligerana and the Warneriana.6 The greatest surprise is probably that the Leiden Oriental manuscripts were at ﬁrst hardly used and remained little known. It is true that they had been described in the subsequent library catalogues, from 1625 onwards, and that a few of these manuscripts indeed served as the basis of text editions, but after the demise in 1667 of Jaco- bus Golius, the professor of Arabic and mathematics at Leiden Uni- versity, manuscript-related activities came almost to a standstill. It is a telling example that Adrian Reland (1676–1718), the professor of Oriental languages and Hebrew antiquities at Utrecht University and

6 A few exceptions may be mentioned here. First: two manuscripts from Fez, including a Machzor, purchased in 1853 from Moses Hecht, a Moroccan bookseller (now Leiden, Or. 4813 and Or. 4814, receipts signed in Hebrew by Hecht are in the Archive of the Legatum Warnerianum). Second: several manuscripts of texts by Herz Ullmann (Or. 4807–Or. 4809). In October 2005 the Leiden Library succeeded in acquiring one more Ullmann manuscript at a Sotheby’s auction in New York (now Or. 26.509). But these are exceptions. 266 jan just witkam an outstanding figure in the early European Enlightenment,7 for his important publications used his own modest collection of manuscripts, those of his friend, the ill-fated Herman Sike (d. 1712), and a few from the Amsterdam library, rather than the Leiden collections, which in the meantime were gathering dust on the bookshelves. Which they were and how they were stored is told by the 1716 catalogue of the Leiden library. In 1729 Leiden University decided to devote extra attention to the study of the relatively large collection of Oriental manuscripts in its library, some 1400 volumes at that time, by creating the special post of “Interpres,” the interpreter of the Oriental collections, or rather of Warner’s legacy, which by then had become the generic name of the Oriental collections there. From 1732 onwards that post was in personal union with the professorship of Arabic at Leiden University.8 The printed catalogue of the entire library holdings, both manuscript and printed, was published in 1716. It was the last time that the entire library collection could be listed in a single catalogue volume.9 Warner’s legacy was fully described in it, also the collections brought together by Golius and the smaller legacies, such as the Scaliger bequest and a few other acquisitions. Although the Leiden library traditionally considered Hebrew to be an Oriental language, quite a number of the Hebrew manuscripts were actually of European origin.10 In the 1716 catalogue the Hebrew materials were treated separately from the “other” Oriental manuscripts. Within each chapter or sub-collection, the principle of order in the Leiden library catalogues had always been the book’s size (large volumes first, small volumes at the end), and that is still the case for the library’s older collections. Steinschneider’s catalogue of the Hebrew manuscripts reflects that principle in its numbering. The entries in the 1716 catalogue were short, a few lines at

7 Jonathan Israel, in the chapter “Rethinking Islam. Philosophy and the ‘Other,’” in his Enlightenment Contested. Philosophy, Modernity, and the Emancipation of Man, 1670–1752 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), pp. 615–639, places Reland in a European intellectual context. 8 Till 1992, when the present author obtained the title while not being the professor of Arabic. On 1 December 2010 the present author has become Interpres emeritus, and a new interpres has not been appointed. 9 Catalogus librorum tam impressorum quam manuscriptorum Bibliothecae Publicae Universitatis Lugduno-Batavae (Leiden: Pieter van der Aa, 1716). A supplement was published in 1741. 10 The Talmud Yerushalmi (Or. 4720 = Scaliger Hebr. 3), which came from Italy, and the Tehilim (Or. 4725 = Scaliger Hebr. 8), which came from England, are the two most noteworthy examples of European Hebrew manuscripts in the Leiden library. moritz steinschneider and the leiden manuscripts 267 most per title, with somewhat more space for collective volumes, the contents of which had not always been completely described. Often the entries gave no more information than the earlier catalogues, but were merely repetitive. As a simple guide through the collection, however, this was sufficient, and the 1716 catalogue served that purpose for over a century. In the first half of the 19th century, ideas of what a manuscript catalogue should be changed drastically, not only in the Netherlands. No longer was the catalogue a guide through a particular collection nor did it serve as an inventory of such a collection, but it was supposed to provide the reader with a set of building materials as complete as possible for a literary history of a particular language or cultural area. In Leiden several plans were drawn up to produce just such a new type of catalogue; progress and modernity were in the air. The most notable result was the Leiden catalogue of Oriental manuscripts started by Reinhart P. A. Dozy (1820–1883) in 1851 and completed in six volumes a quarter of a century later.11 For some languages, such as Syriac and Persian, it is still the most recent printed catalogue in existence. Hebrew manuscripts, however, were at first not included in this project.

Changing Ideas on Catalogues

A word should be said here about the attempts to compile more informative catalogues. There were a few precursors to the extensive Leiden catalogues of Oriental manuscripts of the second part of the 19th century. Interpres H. A. Hamaker (1789–1835) had several great projects in mind. His rather grandiose, if not megalomaniac, research projects included Semitic languages, Sanskrit and Indo-Germanic studies, the study of the languages and cultures of the Berbers and of the peoples of sub-Saharan Africa, cultural anthropology, the origin of species (long before Darwin) and, last but not least, catalogues of the Oriental manuscript collections in the Netherlands. In the end, however, reality always overtakes the great dreams, and the actual catalogue published by Hamaker, a mere specimen of the multi-volume project that he

11 Catalogus Codicum Orientalium Bibliothecae Academiae Lugduno-Batavae, 6 vols. (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1851–1877). The successive authors were R. P. A. Dozy, P. de Jong, M. J. de Goeje and M.Th. Houtsma. 268 jan just witkam seems to have had in mind, contained descriptions of a mere twelve volumes of historical manuscripts.12 The extensive entries and the long quotations in Hamaker’s specimen catalogue provided the reader with a broad view of the manuscripts’ contents. The catalogue as a genre had evidently changed: from being the guide to a collection it had become a primary source in itself. Hamaker was succeeded by H. E. Weijers (1805–1844) who had similar ideas about manuscript catalogues. Because of his premature death, however, not much more than a pile of learned notes came of his plans, of which some were incorporated into later catalogues.13 Weijers was innovative, founding in 1840 a journal called Orientalia, which contained texts and studies based on the Leiden collections. Two volumes appeared. Concerning the Hebrew collection, he was of the opinion that it would be a good idea for a Jewish scholar to describe the Hebrew manuscripts in the Leiden library. A rather revo- lutionary suggestion, it reﬂects the changing ideas within the Protes- tant establishment about (re)involving “other” groups who had been disenfranchised before the French Revolution. However, Weijers did not live to implement his ideas. That would be done by his successor, Th.W.J. Juynboll (1802–1861). With the permission of Leiden University’s board of directors he invited Moritz Steinschneider to Leiden and commissioned the writing of the catalogue of Hebrew manuscripts. The lack of archival materials on the negotiations between Steinschneider and the University’s directors may be explained by the circumstance that Steinschneider visited Leiden several times, on his way from Berlin to Oxford, where he was working on a major catalogue, and again on the way back from Oxford to Berlin, where he lived. So he did not need to correspond, but could discuss his plans directly with Juynboll. During these travels, from about 1852 onwards, his curiosity about the holdings in Leiden may have brought him into contact with the librarian and the Ori- entalists there. The ﬁrst installments of Steinschneider’s Oxford catalogue may have convinced the Leiden academics that Steinschneider was the right person for the job.

12 H. A. Hamaker, Specimen catalogi codicum manuscriptorum orientalium bibliothecae Aca- demiae Lugduno-Batavae (Leiden: Luchtmans, 1820). It is a quarto volume of 256 pp. 13 P. de Jong, Catalogus Codicum Orientalium Bibliothecae Academiae Regiae Scientiarum (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1862). This work was based on scholarly notes by Weijers. moritz steinschneider and the leiden manuscripts 269

The ﬁrst work of making notes and excerpts was done in the month of July 1854. Later on, a few of the Leiden manuscripts were sent to Berlin, to Kaiserstrasse 3, Steinschneider’s home address, for further study. They were returned by Steinschneider personally in July 1858, when he was again on his way from Berlin to Oxford, where he was to resume work on his catalogue of Hebrew books in the Bodleian Library.14

Steinschneider at Work

What would be the best method of describing Hebrew manuscripts, Steinschneider asked, rather rhetorically. In his Preface to the Lei- den catalogue he declared himself incapable of conclusively answering this question, and explained how he had in fact proceeded. Accuracy, completeness and clarity should be the entry’s characteristics, and the description of the form should balance that of the contents. The University’s directors had asked Steinschneider to proceed so that his catalogue would answer the needs of the modern age. Otherwise they imposed no restrictions. For his part, Steinschneider was so wise as to maintain the order and number system of the Hebrew manuscripts as indicated in the 1716 catalogue. Later on, it was decided that the work would be illustrated, in this case by facsimiles reproduced lithographi- cally, a costly addition as we will see. Despite all the good qualities of Steinschneider’s work we may mention here a mystiﬁcation created by him which lasted for over a century. It had not escaped his attention that quite a number of the Hebrew manuscripts in the Leiden collection bore a beautifully penned owner’s name, which he read as J. van Hill, though in fact the name should be read as J. van Hell. Steinschneider devoted more than three pages of small print to an attempt to identify this as yet unknown scholar who had apparently been interested in Hebrew manuscripts.15 The persistent quest for the identity of the unknown Hebrew scholar Johannes van Hell found its apogee in the conjectures by

14 M. Steinschneider, CB (Berlin, 1852 and 1860). The borrowed manuscripts were returned by Steinschneider; see “Uitleen-Register II,” p. 64, in the Archive of the Legatum Warnerianum. 15 Steinschneider, Preface to Cat. Leiden, note on pp. xii–xv. 270 jan just witkam

G. W. J. Drewes (1899–1992).16 In the end it all proved to be a canard, as my father demonstrated: Johannes van Hell was a notary-public in Amsterdam who, while inventorizing Warner’s manuscripts, but being unable to read exotic languages, wrote his name in some of Warner’s bequeathed manuscripts upon their arrival in Amsterdam.17 Originally Steinschneider’s catalogue was considered to be the third volume in the catalogue of Oriental manuscripts in the Leiden Library, after the two volumes published in 1851 by R. P. A. Dozy. The invoices of E.J. Brill,18 who both produced the book on his press and sold it through his bookshop in Leiden,19 mention the Stein- schneider project as volume 3 of the catalogue of Oriental manuscripts in the Leiden Library, but it never was. From the beginning the typography and format of Steinschneider’s catalogue differed from the technical specifications according to which Dozy’s two earlier volumes of the Oriental-manuscripts catalogue had been produced from 1851 onwards. On June 13, 1857, Brill charged the University the sum of 240 florins for work in 1856, for the printing in Latin and Rabbinical Hebrew type of ten sheets (each with sixteen pages) in a print run of two hundred copies (190 copies on ordinary paper and ten copies on luxury paper). For postage to Berlin he charged 15.71 florins. In an invoice over work done until December 1857 Brill charged the University the sum of 336.00 florins for the printing of fourteen sheets with the same specifications. For postage expenses to Berlin the sum of 53.89 florins was mentioned. For the work of the lithographer, Mr. Hooiberg in Leiden, who made two hundred copies of the eleven facsimiles, the sum of 118.60 florins was calculated. Ugly, simple and too small in size as these facsimiles may seem to us now, they were then yet another sign of modernity and progress—exactly what Leiden University was after.

16 Levinus Warner and his Legacy. Three Centuries Legatum Warnerianum in the Leiden Uni- versity Library (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1970). 17 H. J. Witkam, “Johannes van Hell en het Legatum Warnerianum,” in idem, Dagelijkse Zaken van de Leidse Universiteit, van 1581 tot 1596, 6e deel, 2e stuk (with summary in English) (Leiden, 1973). 18 E.J. Brill’s invoice (“declaratie”) for work done in 1856, dated 13 June 1857, and a similar invoice for work done up to December 1857, sent to Prof. Juynboll on 19 June 1858, are kept in the Archive of the Legatum Warnerianum. 19 Brill earned double on the project, ﬁrst by producing the book on his press and then by selling it through his bookshop, for which he was allowed a discount of 40% off the shop price. moritz steinschneider and the leiden manuscripts 271

All in all, producing Steinschneider’s catalogue of the Hebrew manuscripts in Leiden in a print run of two hundred copies had cost the Dutch government the rather formidable sum of 764.20 florins. In order to merely break even with this project, the shop price per copy had to be 764.20 × 100/60 = 1273.67, divided by 190 = 6.70 florins, theoretically speaking, and only assuming (1) that Brill received his usual 40% on the shop price, (2) that the ten luxury copies were not for sale and (3) that all 190 ordinary copies would be sold. The actual shop price, however, was slightly less than that, which means that somewhere in the chain of calculation the margin must have been narrower, yet the catalogue never was a cheap book. For reasons unknown, the Dutch National Bibliography does not mention Steinschneider’s catalogue20 but we are nevertheless informed about its actual shop price. E.J. Brill’s static archives, which are kept in Amster- dam University Library, tell us that the shop price of Steinschneider’s catalogue was in fact 6.00 florins.21 From the book’s sales, apart from the typesetting and printing profit which we are unable to calculate, Brill must have earned a total of 190 × (40% of 6.00 florins) = 456 florins, if all 190 copies were sold and if the ten luxury copies had not been for sale. If Brill’s net profit on the typesetting and printing had amounted to, say, 100 or 150 florins, his total profit on the project would have amounted to well over 100%, and without much risk at that. We do not know the amount of the fee paid to Steinschneider by Leiden University. Such governmental outlay for Orientalist publications was by no means exceptional, however. Relatively large sums of money had been spent in the preceding decade, and were to be spent later, on text editions and catalogues, exactly the sort of scholarly production for which Leiden has become famous.

20 R. van der Meulen, Brinkman’s Catalogus der boeken, plaat- en kaartwerken, die gedurende de jaren 1850–1882 in Nederland zijn uitgegeven of herdrukt, in alphabetische volgorde gerangschikt [. . .] (Amsterdam: Brinkman, 1892, reprinted Leiden: Sijthoff, 1966). Steinschneider’s catalogue should have been mentioned on p. 1114. 21 Information based on Brill’s own sales catalogue, Vijfde vervolg van den fonds-catalogus van E.J. Brill 31 December 1859, kindly supplied to me by Mr. Nico H. Kool of Amster- dam University Library. 272 jan just witkam

After Steinschneider’s Catalogue

On October 16, 1858, the Interpres of the Legatum Warnerianum, Th.W.J. Juynboll, wrote a remarkable letter, or rather an internal memorandum,22 to the University’s board of directors about the lending of the library’s manuscripts and, more particularly, its Hebrew manuscripts. Steinschneider’s catalogue was at that moment on the point of coming out. In his letter Juynboll explained that there had never been problems in lending manuscripts to private scholars in the Netherlands and abroad. In fact this had been done on a rather wide scale, as the still extant lending registers show.23 And when one reads the acknowledgments in the prefaces of many of the text editions produced by the 19th-century Orientalists, it is evident that numerous manuscripts were indeed lent for purposes of collation and of textual criticism. Editing could not have been done otherwise, since photography, still in its infancy, was hardly used then: its high cost and low quality made it an unviable option for textual editing anyway. Juyn- boll wrote further that if the manuscripts were in good physical shape and if the persons wishing to borrow them were well-known scholars, lending was usually no problem. For the Arabic, Persian and Turkish manuscripts Juynboll did not foresee any problem if this practice was continued. However, with the Hebrew manuscripts the case was different, so he wrote. There were two reasons for this, he argued. One reason was connected with the manuscripts themselves, the other with the persons who requested permission to borrow them. “The condition of some of the Hebrew manuscripts requires, because of their great antiquity, the greatest possible care, in order to prevent deterioration. Other manuscripts contain more than one text within a binding, and lending of one text would imply that all the other texts in the same binding would be unavailable for a certain period.” True as this was, Juynboll did not see this particular feature, common to both Islamic and Hebrew manuscripts, as an impediment to lending the Islamic manuscripts to outside readers. The reason for his hesitation to lend Hebrew manuscripts had rather to do with the persons who requested, or were expected to request, permission to borrow the

22 Letter from Th.W.J. Juynboll to the Curatoren Hoogeschool te Leijden, 16 October 1858, kept in the Archive Legatum Warnerianum. 23 Two volumes of the “Uitleen-Register” over the period are preserved in the Archive of the Legatum Warnerianum. moritz steinschneider and the leiden manuscripts 273

Hebrew manuscripts. Some of them were less familiar to Juynboll, and not all of them were academics. He intimated to his directors that a large readership of German Jews, learned but non-academic, would start using the generous facilities of the Leiden library to the full. This development could already be discerned and could be expected to increase after the publication of Steinschneider’s catalogue. Would it not be prudent, Juynboll then asked, to be more restrictive in this case? About two months later, the answer from the directors, in the building opposite Juynboll’s office on Leiden’s central canal, arrived.24 He was given authority to act according to his own judgment. We do not know how many subsequent borrowing requests were refused by Juynboll and to whom. The library’s lending registers, however, do show the names of scholars who received Hebrew manuscripts after the publication of Steinschneider’s catalogue. It was the first time that a section of Dutch society from outside the academic world could be identified as cultural stakeholders in a sub-collection of the manuscripts in the Leiden library—one effect of the emancipation of the Jews in the first half of the 19th century, and of Roman Catholics for that matter. It would be anachronistic to think that learned members of the flourishing Jewish communities in Amsterdam and other Dutch cities in the 17th and 18th centuries could have found their way to such collections, or that they would have had free access to a university’s Hebrew manuscripts. But now times were changing and Juynboll expressed his hesitations about these changes. It may be added that 15th- and 16th-century Christian scholars of Hebrew did not develop their knowledge on their own, but made extensive use of the reference works compiled earlier by Jewish scholars. As soon as they had acquired the knowledge of Hebrew and Aramaic necessary for understanding the Scriptures, however, they could do without traditional Jewish scholarship.25 This comfortable isolation had existed for several centuries, but now suddenly came to an end. Jewish scholarship in Europe, both academic and private, was claiming access to its own heritage.

24 Curatoren to Juynboll, no. 172, dated 8 December 1858, in the Archive Lega- tum Warnerianum. 25 The process has now been eloquently described by Albert van der Heide, Hebra- ica Veritas. Christopher Plantin and the Christian Hebraists (Antwerp: Plantin Museum/Print- room, 2008). 274 jan just witkam

The two hundred copies of Steinschneider’s catalogue of the Hebrew manuscripts in Leiden were probably sold out soon enough. In the early 1970s a plan was devised to update it in two ways. New acquisitions since 1858, very few in any case, would be added and Stein- schneider’s codicological information on all the manuscripts would be upgraded to meet modern requirements. Steinschneider’s description of the manuscripts’ contents did not need correction, however, it was thought. The work on the supplement was done by Albert van der Heide. When I was appointed curator in the Leiden library in Novem- ber 1974, I found the project in full and unstoppable swing. Van der Heide’s supplementary catalogue was published a few years later.26 The decision to publish only a supplement had been taken because Biblio Verlag, a publishing house in Osnabrück, was reprinting Stein- schneider’s 1858 catalogue in 1977 and it was thought that the two volumes, the reprint of the original catalogue and the extra volume by van der Heide, would nicely complement one another. These expectations did not pan out, however. The two different channels of distribution never converged, since neither party saw it as its own interest to communicate with the other and to coordinate their common business. Another, more serious, disaster befell van der Heide’s catalogue: the majority of the copies was lost early on! The publisher, Leiden University Press, had meanwhile changed hands several times. From an institution founded out of idealism just after World War II,27 it had become, thirty years later, the lucrative channel of University subsidies granted to publish books that would never sell on the open market. As a source of subsidies, for which hardly any performance was expected in return, its possession was eagerly coveted by several commercial publishers. Within a few years I saw Leiden University Press pass from Stenfert Kroese in Leiden into the hands of Nijhoff in The Hague and from there to Brill in Leiden, which company after a while lost the imprint as well. Currently owned by Amsterdam University Press, it is still very lucrative for its proprietor, and for the same reason as before.28 At a certain moment in the hectic 1980s the cartons containing

26 A. van der Heide, Hebrew Manuscripts (Leiden: Leiden University Press, 1977). 27 The basic idea was that the proceeds from bestsellers, such as the Guide de la littérature française du moyen âge by Louis Kukenheim and Henri Roussel (Leiden, 1957, and frequently reprinted), would finance the “difficult” books. The subsequent priva- tization of Leiden University Press quickly ended this utopia. 28 The juridical framework within which these changes took place consists of the Foundation “Universitaire Pers Leiden,” lawful owner of the name of the Press, pre- moritz steinschneider and the leiden manuscripts 275 van der Heide’s supplement to Steinschneider’s catalogue must have fallen off a truck and were never seen again.29 The idea behind the publication of van der Heide’s supplemental catalogue had been an unhappy one. In itself it was an unattractive and indeed unreadable book, entirely dependent on Steinschneider’s catalogue, which few can read because Latin as the scholarly language had been replaced in the meantime by English. Van der Heide’s supplement could only be used in a meaningful way if the reader had Steinschneider’s original work on the table as well. That reader has proved to be purely fictive, however, but the consequences of the loss of van der Heide’s supplement may not have been too serious after all. That most of the copies have perished by now may even be considered a blessing in disguise, as it makes room for new initiatives. In the years between 1995 and 2000 I started to look around for prospective authors and sponsors who could help to put together a scholarly coffee- table book in English to be an upgrade of Steinschneider’s catalogue, which might even become a profitable proposition. For several reasons this did not work out either, unfortunately. It was a pity because the marvelous collection of Hebrew manuscripts in Leiden deserves a better fate, and much of the work by Steinschneider could have been recycled. Finally I opted for the poor man’s solution. Between 2001 and 2002 I made a summary translation of Steinschneider’s catalogue from Latin into English, which has now been published, as part of a large project of Oriental manuscript inventories, on my professional website.30 I can say that from this translating I learned a lot from Steinschneider’s catalogue about the manuscripts he so diligently described, and also about him as an author and a person. That is why I am now happy to tell you the story of Moritz Steinschneider and the Leiden manuscripts.

cluding an exclusive contract with any of the aforementioned commercial publishers. In the course of 2010 Leiden University Press was revived as a separate entity with an ambitious publication program. I do not know whether it has also gained its juridical independence from Amsterdam University Press. 29 To this may be added that on 29 May 2008 the opening of the new Special Col- lections reading room of Leiden University Library was festively inaugurated. On that occasion a number of remnant copies of van der Heide’s supplemental catalogue, and many other manuscripts catalogues for that matter, were distributed free of charge among the guests—a civilized form of book destruction. 30 Use as a portal: www.janjustwitkam.nl 13. CREATING A NEW LITERARY GENRE: STEINSCHNEIDER’S LEIDEN CATALOGUE

Steven Harvey and Resianne Fontaine

Introduction

Moritz Steinschneider published his Catalogus Codicum Hebraeorum Bibliothecae Academiae Lugduno-Batavae in Leiden in 1858. As we shall show, this pioneering and quite extraordinary catalogue of Hebrew manuscripts had a signiﬁcant impact on those who sought to understand and tell the story of the development of medieval Jewish thought. In particular, this work’s unusually detailed description of manuscripts and lengthy quotations from them, along with select bibliographic information on the texts contained in the manuscripts, soon turned it into a much-needed tool for the study of knowledge transfer from the world of Islam to the world of Judaism. The present paper focuses on its importance for the study of medieval Jewish philosophy. After brieﬂy surveying the pre-Leiden catalogues and listings, we will recount the purpose and format of the Leiden catalogue. We will then explore the importance of the Hebrew philosophic manuscripts it describes, and to what extent Steinschneider was aware of their importance and made it known to his readers. We will also describe how the Leiden catalogue differs from previous ones in presenting its works on Jewish philosophy. We will then compare the Leiden catalogue to later catalogues by Steinschneider and others to determine to what extent the later catalogues follow the purpose and structure of the Leiden one. After these comparisons, we will trace the use made of the catalogue by historians and bibliographers of medieval Jewish philosophy, in particular Ernest Renan (1823–1892) in his revised and expanded edition of Averroès et l’averroïsme: essai historique (Paris, 1861). Finally, we will suggest in what sense it may be said to represent a new literary genre. 278 steven harvey and resianne fontaine

1. Pre-Leiden Catalogues and Listings

What did one expect from a catalogue of Hebrew manuscripts in the mid-nineteenth century when Steinschneider compiled the Lei- den catalogue? The best-known and most-cited Hebrew manuscript catalogues of the day were De Rossi’s 1803 catalogue of the Biblio- teca Palatina di Parma,1 and two catalogues dating from the 1750s, Biscioni’s catalogue of the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana2 and the Assemanis’ catalogue of the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana.3 Before describing brieﬂy these early catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts, it will be useful to consider the main sources of information for the compilers of these catalogues. It should be kept in mind that many authors of the texts they were cataloguing—in our case, the many authors, commentators, and translators of philosophic works—were quite obscure. How would the cataloguers have known about these authors? The most important and most-cited early source for bibliographic information on Hebrew books, and for some background on their authors, was Johann Christoph Wolf’s monumental Bibliotheca Hebraea, which was published between 1715 and 1733.4 Wolf’s own base source was Giulio Bartolocci’s pioneering late seventeenth- century Bibliotheca Magna Rabbinica,5 but Wolf immediately overshadowed him, although Bartolocci continued to be cited. Thus when Steinschneider compiled his magisterial Catalogus Librorum Hebraeorum in Biliotheca Bod- leiana (1852–1860), a work which would itself emerge as the major source for information on these authors, his main source was Wolf. Bartolocci’s Bibliotheca Magna Rabbinica is a handsome four-volume listing of nearly 2000 Hebrew books and manuscripts. These are listed in alphabetical order according to the Hebrew name of the author with a brief Hebrew biographical description of the author. The name follows in roman letters with a biographical account usually longer than the Hebrew one and list of works. There is usually little description of the works, and no citations from them are included. Occasionally there

1 Giovanni Bernardo De Rossi, Mss. Codices Hebraici Biblioth. I.B. De-Rossi accurate ab eodem Descripti et Illustrati, 3 vols. (Parma, 1803). 2 Antonio Maria Biscioni, Bibliothecae Ebraicae Graecae Florentinae sive Bibliothecae Mediceo- Laurentianae, II (Florence, 1757). 3 S. Assemanus and J. Assemanus, Bibliothecae Apostolicae Vaticanae . . . I: Codices Ebrai- cos et Samaritanos (Rome, 1756). 4 Johann Christoph Wolf, Bibliotheca Hebraea (Hamburg and Leipzig, 1715–1733). 5 Giulio Bartolocci, Bibliotheca Magna Rabbinica (Rome, 1675–1693). creating a new literary genre 279 is an evaluation of the author; for example, Averroes is called “the most famous Arab author [who] wrote the most learned commentaries on all of Aristotle’s works.” This is an impressively comprehensive easy-to-use work with Hebrew and Latin indices. However, within a quarter of a century it was superseded—although certainly not made obsolete—by Wolf’s Bibliotheca Hebraea. Wolf’s four-volume work, like that of Bartolocci, is arranged according to the Hebrew name of the author and is well indexed. It contains more entries, provides a bit more information, and corrects errors in Bartolocci and earlier such listings. These two works are—and to some extent still remain—ﬁne tools for learning the most elementary facts about medieval Hebrew authors, but one learns almost nothing about the purpose and contents of the books they wrote. Yet without such listings, it is hard to imagine how the early compilers of catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts could have written their catalogues. The early Hebrew cataloguers did not seek to provide very much more information on the works or authors they listed. Biscioni’s catalogue is beautifully printed and prepared. It provides the basic information about the manuscript and a bit about the author of the text. Each entry gives at the outset the title of the work in Hebrew, in Latin transliteration and various Latin translations, and the name of the author. It often provides the chapters of the book, and the incipit and, at times, the ending for each text. At times, additional information is given, often quoted directly from Wolf’s Bibliotheca Hebraea. There is no index. The Assemanis provide a little more information in their catalogue of the Vatican Hebrew collection. For example, in discussing Gersonides’ Commentary on the Torah, they provide several of Gersonides’ names and incipits of each book of the Commentary. In general, they are interested in showing the parts and divisions of a work, the folio number where each part begins, and its incipit. This information is quite useful for the catalogue-reader who is about to examine the manuscript, and in certain cases, such as Judah ben Solo- mon’s Midrash ha-Æokhmah and Abraham ibn Daud’s Emunah Ramah, providing the names of the section headings also tells the reader, who might not be able to view the manuscript itself, something about the nature of the work. The Assemanis do not cite Wolf at length, but they do repeatedly refer the reader to him and Bartolocci and others. The Assemanis’ catalogue contains a very useful index scriptorum. De Rossi’s Parma catalogue, written some 50 years later, usually provides more information on the author, the book, editions of the book, 280 steven harvey and resianne fontaine other manuscripts of it, often with some minimal description. Thus, for example, his description of Levi ben Abraham’s Livyat Æen provides an informative Latin description of the work’s parts. Like the other cataloguers’, De Rossi’s main source is Wolf. De Rossi’s catalogue also has a useful index of authors and titles. These early catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts were labors of love and unquestionably informed the reader about the manuscripts in the particular library.6 They also helped, to different degrees, the examiner of a particular manuscript to locate what he or she was looking for. In some cases, they offered details on the nature or division of a book that informed the reader who could not consult the manuscript about its contents. The authors of these catalogues were learned men, who knew just where to turn for the bibliographical information they needed, but they were not scholars of medieval Jewish philosophy, and they apparently did not read the philosophic books they catalogued.7 This would change with Moritz Steinschneider.

2. The Purpose and Structure of the Leiden Catalogue, with Particular Attention to the Nature and Description of the Jewish Philosophy Collection in Leiden, and with Comments on How the Leiden Catalogue Differs from Previous Catalogues in Presenting Its Works on Jewish Philosophy

The Leiden catalogue was the ﬁrst of Steinschneider’s manuscript catalogues. As he explains in his preface, written in May 1858, he

6 This generalization does not, of course, apply to all early catalogues, such as those of less important and/or less known collections, which differ one from the other. See, for example, Io. Henricus Maius, Bibliotheca Uffenbachiana manuscripta, seu, catalogus et recensio manuscriptorum codicum, qui in bibliotheca Zachariae Conradi ab Uffenbach Traiecti ad Moenum adservantur . . . (Halle, 1720). Mai’s primary motivation seems to have been anti-Jewish polemics and this colors the nature and content of his catalogue. He often did not list the title of the work, provided less codicological information than is usually provided, and seems not to have been very interested in the scribe of the manuscript or the year and place of its writing. Yet, as he explained in his preface, p. 3, his intent was to describe more fully those works that had not been published. See below, n. 18. 7 The anonymous reviewer of this article suggests otherwise: “The Assemanis, Bar- toloccis, and Wolfs read the books very carefully. . . . If one takes a look, e.g., at the descriptions of polemical literature, it becomes very clear that they knew very well the texts they were cataloguing.” This may be true for polemical literature. However, we see very little evidence that they read for content the philosophic books they catalogued. Steinschneider did. creating a new literary genre 281 had been working on it intermittently since July 1854,8 being engaged simultaneously in compiling his catalogue of Hebrew books in the Bodleian library (1852–1860), to which he refers throughout the Leiden catalogue. The latter, written in Steinschneider’s own peculiar Latin, presents descriptions of 112 manuscripts that together cover various ﬁelds of Hebrew literature.9 The structure of the catalogue is as follows: a rather lengthy and informative preface; the core of the catalogue, some 380 pages of descriptions of the Leiden Library’s Hebrew manuscript collections, notably the Warner collection [Levinus Warner (1619–1665)]—the largest collection—and the Scaliger one [ Joseph Justus Scaliger (1540– 1609)], arranged according to the collection number, descriptions of two Judeo-Arabic manuscripts of Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed; 26 pages of appendices that present 19 passages from texts described in the catalogue; four extensive indices of authors, titles, scribes and owners; a comparison of the Warner and Scaliger numbers to the listings in the 1716 Leiden catalogue;10 and some samples of various scripts.11 In his preface Steinschneider writes that the question of the method one ought to follow in describing manuscripts needs extensive treatment, but that he cannot discuss it there. Instead, he will address only what is necessary for the present catalogue. To ensure that the catalogue will be accurate, complete and clear, Steinschneider continues,

8 Cat. Leiden, preface, pp. xxi–xxiii. 9 This numbering is according to Albert van der Heide, Hebrew Manuscripts of Leiden University Library (Leiden: Universitaire pers Leiden, 1977), p. 1. Steinschneider himself speaks of 120 manuscripts (see below, n. 20). Julius Fürst counts 114 codices or 286 works (Bibliotheca Judaica III [Leipzig, 1863], p. lix). According to our enumeration, Steinschneider describes in this catalogue 79 Warner manuscripts, 15 more recent manuscripts, 20 Scaliger manuscripts, and 2 Judaeo-Arabic manuscripts of Maimo- nides’ Guide of the Perplexed, for a total of 116 manuscripts. The catalogue is not, however, complete as Steinschneider was unaware of the existence of some manuscripts and disregarded certain others. See Van der Heide, Hebrew Manuscripts of Leiden, p. 16. The remaining manuscripts listed by Van der Heide in his supplement to the Leiden catalogue, most of which are later acquisitions, do not focus on philosophy, but rather Bible, grammar, and liturgy. They also include personal letters. 10 On the 1716 Leiden catalogue, see Jan Just Witkam, “Moritz Steinschneider and the Leiden Manuscripts,” in the present volume. 11 Contents: Praefatio ([v]–xxiv), Emendanda (xxv–xxviii), sectio I—Warner 1–64 (1–278), sectio II—Warner 65–79 (279–297), sectio III—later acquisitions 80–94 (298–309), sectio IV—Scaliger 1–20 (311–382), 2 Judaeo-Arabic manuscripts (380– 382), 19 appendices containing passages from the manuscripts described (380–406), Index auctorum ([407]–413), Index titulorum (414–418), Index scribarum (419), Index possessorum (420–421), Conspectus Numerorum (422–424), and samples of various scripts (without pagination). 282 steven harvey and resianne fontaine he has noted the “external” (that is, the codicological) characteristics in a note at the beginning of each entry and provided illustrations of different scripts. Moreover, he has put the Hebrew and Latin titles and proper names at the beginning of the entry, so that they will strike one’s eyes immediately, even if one only browses through the catalogue.12 The actual descriptions of the manuscripts follow closely the procedure sketched in the preface. Each listing begins with codicological information presented in a separate bracketed section in small indented letters. In general, these sections provide the kind of information that one might expect in a manuscript catalogue, such as material, number of folios, script, legibility, scribe, date, owner and general condition.13 After this information, the Leiden catalogue describes the works themselves. It is immediately evident that in most cases the catalogue offers much more than what was expected or—to use Steinschneider’s words—“strictly necessary”14 in such a catalogue, that is, the basic information regarding the title, author, and date of composition of a given text that we ﬁnd in earlier catalogues. It is no exaggeration to say that the lengthy descriptions presented in the Leiden catalogue offer a wealth of information on the authors and texts under discussion, although some descriptions are succinct. Steinschneider tells us here that in fact “he endeavored to be brief,” where possible referring the reader to his Bodleian catalogue and his Jewish Literature,15 but when he came across a manuscript that was unique or particularly important or not well-known, he felt obligated to give a more extensive treatment.16 This was absolutely necessary for him, for he believed that things that are not noted in a catalogue will eventually perish with

12 Cat. Leiden, preface, pp. v–vi. 13 The codicological descriptions are more detailed than those generally found in the earlier catalogues. 14 Cat. Leiden, preface, p. viii. 15 JL/E, tr. William Spottiswoode (London, 1857). 16 Cat. Leiden, preface, pp. vi–vii. Steinschneider apparently felt the need to defend his lengthy descriptions of certain works or manuscripts. He explains rather defen- sively that this was certainly not done in order to earn more money for his work on the catalogue, for the Leiden curators had fixed the salary when they commissioned him to compose it. They required only that the catalogue fit “the demands of our time.” Steinschneider emphasizes that he was not following in the footsteps of those cataloguers who fill their catalogues with “futile things” and repeat the things that were already most known, while neglecting what is truly important. creating a new literary genre 283 the manuscript.17 Elsewhere, he summarizes the deficiencies of earlier cataloguers and bibliographers as follows: “They do not let the manuscripts speak for themselves.”18 For most of the texts, Steinschneider lists the Hebrew title or titles; a Latin translation; the name(s) of the author, with some biographical details; incipit and ending (sometimes at some length); the structure of the work with a division into chapters; the titles of chapters and/or a description of their contents; and the sources that are cited and/or the usage of the text by later authors.19 In order to appreciate some of the more noteworthy features of the Leiden catalogue, we will focus now on Steinschneider’s descriptions of philosophical, astronomical/astrological and medical texts. The manuscripts containing these works comprise about 44 of the 112 manuscripts listed in the catalogue. Although Steinschneider seems to have been impressed primarily by the large number of interesting Karaite manuscripts,20 he writes in his preface that, after them, those on philosophy “hold second place.”21 The present study is based on his presentation of these philosophic and scientific manuscripts. First, it may be observed that Steinschneider often comments not only on the legibility or illegibility of a particular manuscript—for example, that it cannot be read without detrimental results for one’s eyes22—but he also has a lot to say about the variant readings of a given manuscript in comparison to manuscripts containing the same text in other libraries. Narboni’s commentary on Averroes’ Epistle of the Possibility of Conjunction is a case in point: he observes that a certain date is lacking in the Leiden manuscript (as opposed to an Oxford one), but adds

17 Cat. Leiden, preface, p. viii. 18 JL/G, pp. 357–471; on p. 469: “die Handschriften zu wenig für sich selbst reden zu lassen.” It may be objected that Mai (above n. 6) did let the manuscripts speak for themselves, for he occasionally provided long text extracts with Latin translations, but, as we have noted, his purpose was usually polemic. In any case, he showed virtually no interest in philosophic texts, and the Uffenbach collection had few works related to Jewish philosophy and science. 19 These observations are based on an examination of the codices containing works on philosophy and science, but seem to be valid for the catalogue as a whole. 20 Cf. his statement that he was “charged with publishing a catalogue of about 120 very interesting manuscripts, especially for Karaitic Literature.” See JL/E, preface p. v (written in Berlin, Dec. 1856). See further, p. viii, and idem, Vorlesungen über die Kunde hebräischer Handschriften, deren Sammlungen und Verzeichnisse (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1897), pp. 79–80. In his indices to the Cat. Leiden, the Karaite manuscripts are marked by an asterisk. Also, almost all of the samples at the end of the catalogue come from Karaite texts. 21 Cat. Leiden, preface, p. xv: “secundum locum obtinent.” 22 Cat. Leiden, W [=Warner] 44, p. 215. 284 steven harvey and resianne fontaine that the Leiden manuscript “has better readings everywhere.”23 In his description of Aaron ben Elijah’s {EÉ Æayyim, he compares the manuscript with the edition of the text prepared by him and Franz Delitzsch in 1841, and concludes that many of their conjectures are conﬁrmed by the readings of the Leiden manuscript.24 Furthermore, at times he observes that a certain text deserves to be edited, such as the Hebrew translation of Averroes’ FaÉl al-maqâl 25 or Abraham Shamsulu’s Millel Avraham, a work which contains many quotations from philosophers.26 Other characteristics in his descriptions are his attempts to solve problems of authorship or of the identity of translators;27 in general, his efforts to clear up confusion sown by earlier bibliographers; his comments about technical terminology used in a particular work; and, most importantly, his at times long quotations from the manuscripts. Thanks to these numerous important and informative observations and lengthy citations, several of the descriptions constitute essays by themselves. This is particularly true with regard to the descriptions of two encyclopedic texts contained in Warner 20, Judah ben Solomon’s Midrash ha-Æokhmah and Shem-ov Falaquera’s De{ot ha-Filosoﬁm, about which hardly anything was known at the time. Steinschneider devotes 27 pages to these two works.28 Apart from biographical details about the authors, the reader learns about the motivation underlying their works, for which Steinschneider used their introductions, as well as about their sources and terminology. Most importantly, one can familiarize oneself with the contents of these encyclopedias, thanks to Steinschneider’s detailed descriptions of their structures and chapter- divisions, and his extensive quotes from the texts. In short, the descriptions in the Leiden catalogue far exceed the boundaries of mere manuscript-listing and go markedly beyond the earlier bibliographical works discussed above. Clearly Steinschneider was personally interested in the philosophical works he catalogued and

23 Cat. Leiden, W 6/3, pp. 18–19. 24 Cat. Leiden, W 52, pp. 152–153. 25 Cat. Leiden, W 15/2, pp. 41–42. See also W 36, p. 147. The Leiden Library has two of the ﬁve manuscripts of this text. This important translation would not be edited for nearly a century (by Norman Golb, “The Hebrew Translation of Averroes’ FaÉl al-maqâl,” PAAJR 25 [1956], pp. 91–113 and 26 [1957], pp. 41–64). 26 Cat. Leiden, W 56/5, p. 259: “Dissertatio haec digna est quae edatur.” Steinschneider published the beginning of the text as Appendix XIV of the catalogue. 27 Cat. Leiden, W 10, p. 29. 28 Cat. Leiden, W 20, pp. 53–60 (on Midrash ha-Æokhmah) and 61–79 (on De{ot ha- Filosoﬁm). creating a new literary genre 285 read them thoroughly. The Leiden catalogue is thus more than a catalogue; it can rightly be called a guide or a source book for the study of Jewish philosophy and science. Moreover, since many of the listed texts concern translations from the Arabic, the catalogue is also important for the study of the history of Islamic philosophy. As for Jew- ish philosophy, interestingly the collection contains no texts by Jewish philosophers prior to Maimonides, apart from Isaac Israeli’s Sefer ha- Yesodot and astronomical and astrological treatises by Abraham bar Æiyya and Abraham Ibn Ezra.29 Instead, the philosophic manuscripts described include many later texts that are relevant for the study of the transfer of knowledge among Jews from the Islamic world to Christian countries, such as Hebrew translations of Aristotle, Alfarabi’s logical works, Alghazali, and Averroes; works by Maimonides; Gersonides’ commentaries on Averroes; Narboni’s commentaries; and other post- Maimonidean authors such as Isaac Albalag and Joseph ibn Kaspi. Steinschneider was certainly aware of the importance of the Leiden manuscripts on science and philosophy, and hence, of the importance of his own undertaking. In speaking of the collection as a whole, he observed that while in terms of numbers it is inferior to that of other libraries, it is not surpassed by any other library when one considers the excellence ( praestantia) and variety of the very old, important and rare manuscripts it contains.30 We have noted the special importance he attached to the Karaite manuscripts described in the catalogue,31 but also his statement that after them, those on philosophy “hold second place.”32 For example, of Warner 47, a mathematical manuscript, he advises that it should not be neglected by students of Arabic mathematics.33 When describing Scaliger 2, a codex containing twenty medical texts to which he devotes 30 pages, he says with obvious regret that he must limit himself given the restraints of the catalogue, but that he easily could have written a small book about it.34

29 In this respect, the focus of the Leiden collection stands in sharp contrast to the general trend in Jewish philosophic research of the last four decades of the nineteenth century, which emphasized Maimonides and thinkers prior to him, with the major exception of studies on Gersonides, Crescas, and Albo. 30 Cat. Leiden, preface, p. xv. 31 See above, n. 20. 32 See above, n. 21. 33 Cat. Leiden, p. 219. 34 Cat. Leiden, p. 311. 286 steven harvey and resianne fontaine

It can hardly be doubted that Steinschneider was likewise aware of the innovativeness of his catalogue and its special contributions. This may be seen in his description of a Hebrew version of Aristotle’s Ethics, where he says that he has examined the damaged manuscript and compared it with other manuscripts so that perhaps something new will come to light concerning the author of the various Hebrew versions of this text.35 One can see this as well in his reflections, thirty-five years after the Leiden catalogue, as to why he devoted so much attention to Falaquera’s De{ot ha-Filosofim in the catalogue: “[M]y main intention at the time was . . . to call attention to the contents of a totally unknown book that De Rossi had dismissed with only a single line.”36 In a similar vein, in discussing in the catalogue Alghazali’s Treatise of Answers to Questions, he states: “You will not find our book mentioned by earlier bibliographers or by more recent authors on Alghazali.”37 The need to correct the oversights and mistakes of others, that is, to use his sources critically, is a hallmark of the Leiden catalogue. In Steinschneider’s opinion—and he does not hesitate to say so explicitly in the preface to his catalogue—certain of his predecessors were neither sufficiently instructed in general literature, nor knew enough Hebrew to fulfill their very difficult task.38 While compiling the catalogue, Steinschneider wrote elsewhere, speaking of himself in the third person: [T]here remained a large mass of minor corrections which the author discovered while elaborating the materials for his [Leiden] catalogue. He found out even more than was agreeable, namely that the principal older authorities, such as Wolfius and De Rossi, and even Jewish writers like Abraham Zacuto, were erroneous in very many cases; and that recent authors, with but few exceptions, repeated too readily the old reports and misstatements.39 Such mistakes are pointed out and corrected repeatedly in the catalogue. To mention but a few examples, De Rossi corrupts the name

35 See Cat. Leiden, W 44, 215: “ut e collatione cum codic. aliis auctor aliquando detegatur, ac forsitan novi quid de versionibus hujus libri hebraicis eruatur.” Cf. HÜ, p. 218. 36 Ibid., p. 6; English trans. in Charles H. Manekin, “Steinschneider on the Medi- eval Hebrew Encyclopedias: An Annotated Translation from Die hebraeischen Überset- zungen des Mittelalters,” in The Medieval Hebrew Encyclopedias of Science and Philosophy, ed. Steven Harvey (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2000), p. 483. 37 Cat. Leiden, pp. 46–47 (MS W 15/5). Cf. HÜ, pp. 338–339. 38 Cat. Leiden, preface, p. viii. 39 JL/E, preface, p. iv. creating a new literary genre 287

Albalag into Ralblag, and tends to antedate his manuscripts.40 The Asse- manis are not sufﬁciently accurate, and Dukes has not noticed that a text that goes under the name “Metaphysics” is, in fact, part of Midrash ha-Æokhmah.41 Steinschneider also often corrects and criticizes Wolf, on whom he relies heavily, for example, for confusing Abu Ma{shar with Abu NaÉr (Alfarabi).42 Renan is another target: He confuses various tractates on the intellect by Averroes; he passes over a manuscript of Averroes’ commentary on Alexander’s De Intellectu with Narboni’s supercommentary “in deep silence”; he dates Otot ha-Shamayim in 4909 instead of 4970; and incomprehensibly “mentions a Latin manuscript of Averroes’ Tractatus de Theriaco, whereas the Latin version had been edited . . . and omits the Hebrew version completely.”43 In sum, it may be said that the Leiden catalogue went far beyond what had been expected of a catalogue of Hebrew manuscripts.44 Van der Heide has claimed that Steinschneider’s “prodigious knowledge enabled him to present the manuscripts he catalogued [in the Leiden catalogue] in the most effective manner for further research.”45 This is a good point, for it is difﬁcult to overestimate the learning needed for compiling such a catalogue. But what is most noteworthy in the catalogue is the new mindset that such catalogues can be used to further our knowledge of Jewish philosophy and science, and that this can best be done by actually describing the works listed and citing from them judiciously.46 As we will see, the Leiden catalogue would not remain a unicum for very long.

40 Cat. Leiden, p. 17 (W 6/2) and p. 144 (W 35). 41 Cat. Leiden, p. 55 (W 20) and p. 37 (W 13/2). 42 Cat. Leiden, p. 367, n. 1 (S [=Scaliger] 14/4). 43 Cat. Leiden, pp. 20 (W 6/3), 21 (W 6/4), 36 (W 13/1), and 332 (S 2/13). On the other hand, he appears, at least at ﬁrst glance, to have little criticism of Solomon Munk. 44 Steinschneider’s approach in Cat. Leiden is in line, in some respects, with certain new trends in contemporary catalogues in other Semitic languages. See Witkam, “Moritz Steinschneider and the Leiden Manuscripts” (above, n. 10). 45 Van der Heide, Hebrew Manuscripts of Leiden, p. 1. 46 For a present-day view of the “new” aims of a Hebrew manuscript catalogue, see Colette Sirat, “New Catalogues for Medieval Hebrew Manuscripts?” in Studies in Hebrew Literature and Jewish Culture, Presented to Albert van der Heide on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday, eds. Martin F. J. Baasten and Reinier Munk (Dordrecht: Springer, 2007), pp. 21–30. Interestingly, Steinschneider’s Leiden catalogue, written one hundred and ﬁfty years earlier, provides most of the information Sirat considered lacking in the older catalogues. Like Sirat, Steinschneider believed that it was the cataloguer’s task to “breathe new life” into the manuscript described (p. 30). 288 steven harvey and resianne fontaine

3a. Post-Leiden Steinschneider Catalogues of Hebrew Manuscripts

We have tried to show the various ways in which the Leiden catalogue of Hebrew manuscripts differed from earlier such catalogues. Do Steinschneider’s later catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts follow the path of the Leiden catalogue? Are they, too, of use for students and scholars seeking to understand the history of medieval Jewish philosophic and scientiﬁc thought? Steinschneider compiled several later catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts, of which three are recognized as the most important. These three are of the rich collections in the state libraries in Munich, Hamburg, and Berlin, and were published in Ger- many between the years 1875 and 1897. The Munich catalogue appeared in 1875, and was revised in 1895.47 Most of the Jewish philosophy manuscripts described in it contain several works. Steinschneider’s descriptions of these works are generally quite short and to the point. He begins by providing in small type technical information on the manuscript. The information on the books included in the manuscripts is often limited to titles and authors, and, as Emile Schrijver has noted in his description of the catalogue, to “extremely abbreviated primary and secondary references and texts of colophons and old provenances.” Schrijver adds that “only occasionally may additional information be found.” He explains that this brevity was forced upon Steinschneider in order “to guarantee uniformity with other Munich manuscript catalogues.”48 Yet one gets the impression that Steinschneider was in any case not so interested in speaking at length about works in the collection that were already known. Certain other works, not so well known, sparked his interest, and his accounts of them are more reminiscent of those in the Leiden catalogue. For example, Munich contains a unique manuscript of Ger- sonides’ Treatise on Geometry. The catalogue provides the beginning of the Hebrew text. Another rare manuscript is a Perush on the Physics. Steinschneider correctly identiﬁed it as a commentary on Averroes’ Middle Commentary, “interesting also for Textgeschichte,” although a half- century later Wolfson would show that his attribution to Isaac Albalag

47 Cat. München (Munich, 1875); rev. ed. (Munich, 1895). 48 Emile G. L. Schrijver, “Towards a Supplementary Catalogue of Hebrew Manu- scripts in the Bibliotheca Rosenthaliana,” Ph.D. diss., Universiteit van Amsterdam, 1993, p. 20. creating a new literary genre 289 was mistaken.49 Manuscript 106 contains Averroes’ middle commentaries on Porphyry’s Isagoge and the first six books of Aristotle’s Organon, and Manuscript 108 contains Averroes’ epitomes on Aristotle’s works on natural science. For these two manuscripts, he provides the beginning and ending sentences for each book. Schrijver describes the revised catalogue as an “augmented edition.”50 This is true, but not entirely so. For example, by 1895 the texts of Averroes had become pretty well known. Steinschneider thus short- ened his citations of these works in his descriptions of Manuscripts 106 and 108. For many works, various references could be condensed simply to “HUb” for Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen, which had appeared two years earlier. This was not always done. For example, Manuscript 110 contains three commentaries by or on Narboni, and Albalag’s notes on Alghazali’s Intentions of the Philosophers. For all four works, Steinschneider refers the reader of the first edition to “CL,” that is, to the Leiden catalogue. The revised edition keeps the references to “CL” for the first two works, but replaces them with “HUb” for the latter two.51 A good example of the additions in the revised edition is a certain commentary on Song of Songs. Steinschneider augments this short entry in the first edition by pointing out places where the author refers to philosophers such as Aristotle and Maimonides and mentions Plato’s identification of matter with female.52 The most important additions, however, are the lengthy citations from works on mathematics, astronomy, and medicine in the Anhänge or appendices to the revised edition. These appendices—noted already in our discussion of the Leiden catalogue—are an important feature of Steinschneider’s catalogues that make it possible for the reader who has no immediate access to the library catalogued to read and understand something about the cited work.

49 See Harry A. Wolfson, “Isaac Ibn Shem-Tob’s Unknown Commentaries on the Physics and His Other Unknown Works,” Studies in Jewish Bibliography and Related Sub- jects (New York: Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1929), pp. 279–290. This is certainly not the only case of learned scholars writing articles addressing a passing comment of Steinschneider’s in one of his catalogues. 50 Schrijver, “Towards a Supplementary Catalogue,” p. 20. For a review of the revised catalogue, see David Kaufmann in MGWJ 42 (1898), 94–96. 51 See Cat. Munich, n. 110, pp. 49–50, and Cat. Munich, rev. ed., n. 110, pp. 66–67. 52 See Cat. Munich, rev. ed., n. 56, pp. 37–38. 290 steven harvey and resianne fontaine

The Hamburg catalogue was published in 1878.53 For the first time, we have a catalogue of Hebrew manuscripts arranged according to subject. Among the subjects, theology and philosophy are grouped together under the same heading. Once again, following his style in Leiden and Munich, Steinschneider begins each entry by providing the technical information on the manuscripts in small print. Schrijver points out that in terms of length of the discussions of the works described, Hamburg “seems to stand midway between the Leiden and Munich catalogues.”54 Yet again it seems that Steinschneider is interested in describing those manuscripts that contain important works that are not described elsewhere. Again, what is most useful for the student of knowledge transfer from the Islamic world to the Jewish one are the lengthy appendices to the catalogue. In particular mention may be made of the full text of Jacob Anatoli’s telling introduction to his translation of Averroes’ middle commentaries on the logical writings; of Zerayah ben Isaac Æen’s introduction to his translation of Galen’s Katagenos; and of the lengthy citations from Moses ibn Tibbon’s translation of Æunain ibn Isâq’s Introduction to the Art of Medicine.55 The Berlin catalogue was published in two volumes: the first in 1878, the second in 1897.56 While the arrangement of these two volumes is different—the second is arranged by subject, whereby theology and philosophy, as in Hamburg, are grouped together under a single heading—the format is similar. Once again the technical information on the manuscripts is provided succinctly at the beginning of each entry. Once again, Steinschneider seems interested in discussing only certain works. Schrijver observes that “more than in any other of his catalogues, the amount of detail provided in the descriptions seems to depend heavily on Steinschneider’s personal interest.”57 With regard to the philosophic and scientific works, it seems to us that this interest is directly related to the particular work’s importance and to the extent to which it had already been described or studied elsewhere. Thus one finds, for example, in the first volume, a lengthy discussion with incipits of a manuscript with 6 supercommentaries by Gersonides on Averroes’ epitomes to the physical writings; a comparison of incipits

53 Moritz Steinschneider, Cat. Hamburg. 54 Schrijver, “Towards a Supplementary Catalogue,” p. 21. 55 Cat. Hamburg, pp. 181–183, 197–199, and 184–190. 56 Cat. Berlin, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1878 and 1897). 57 Schrijver, “Towards a Supplementary Catalogue,” p. 21. creating a new literary genre 291 from a manuscript of Judah ben Solomon Nathan’s translation of Alghazali’s Intentions of the Philosophers with those from Isaac Albalag’s translation; and a close examination of Jacob ben Æayyim Farissol’s Bet Ya{aqov for citations of philosophers.58 In the second volume, there are also discussions interspersed with lengthy citations, for example, of an anonymous explanation of Euclid’s Elements; of the Pseudo- Aristotle, Pseudo- Avicenna Sefer ha-Shenah ve-ha-YeqiÉah; of Solomon al-Qons¢an¢in’s Megalleh {Amuqot; and of a manuscript of various anonymous supercommentaries on Averroes.59 Once again, both volumes contain important appendices. The appendices to the second volume include passages from Hebrew mathematical works, Judeo-Arabic medical treatises, and Ibn Ezra’s astrological writings.60 Even more important for students of medieval Jewish philosophy is the fourth appendix to the first volume, which contains the fascinating and informative introduction by Judah ben Solomon Nathan to his translation of Alghazali’s Intentions of the Philosophers, still cited today from the Ber- lin catalogue, and the fifth appendix, which contains Kalonymus ben David’s introduction to his translation of Averroes’ Tahâfut al-tahâfut.61 In short, one finds in these three catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts the same features found in the Leiden catalogue that metamorphosed it from an informative listing of manuscripts to a useful research tool for learning about the works in the collection and their authors.

3b. Post-Leiden Catalogues of Hebrew Manuscripts by Others

Did Steinschneider’s Leiden catalogue similarly influence the purpose and format of other significant catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts? We will briefly consider now the catalogues of three of the largest collections of Hebrew manuscripts, that of the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, the Bodleian in Oxford, and the British Museum in London.

58 Cat. Berlin, vol. 1, MS 110 (pp. 81–86), MS 111 (pp. 86–88), and MS 124 (pp. 110–115). 59 Cat. Berlin, vol. 2, MS 204 (p. 54), MS 206 (p. 58), MS 211 (pp. 60–62). The anonymous “Erklärung und Schwierigkeiten” of Euclid’s Elements does not seem to be mentioned in Steinschneider’s HÜ. 60 For the lengthy account of Abraham Ibn Ezra’s astrological writings, see Cat. Berlin, pp. 136–150. 61 Cat. Berlin, vol. 1, pp. 130–135. 292 steven harvey and resianne fontaine

Hermann Zotenberg’s catalogue of the grand collection of the Bib- liothèque Nationale (then Impériale) was printed in Paris in 1866.62 It is arranged according to topics and is well-indexed. If one keeps in mind that Zotenberg (1836–1894) listed over 1300 manuscripts in 250 pages and that many of the manuscripts contained several works, it will be clear that he could not be too verbose. Indeed most of his descriptions are quite short. In addition, he seems to exhibit little interest in the technical description of the manuscripts, usually conﬁning himself to mentioning the basic information in a single line of small print. Nor are there many incipits or citations from the texts. What he does do for the interesting, not so well-known works is to explain the author’s views and what he aimed to do in the particular work. Thus the reader of his catalogue can learn about Isaac Albalag’s heterodox views and critique of Alghazali and Maimonides in his Tiqqun ha-De{ot; about Shem-ov ibn Shem-ov’s understanding of the summum bonum in his Treatise on the Final Cause; Joseph ibn Shem-ov’s attempts to refute Averroes in his commentary on Averroes’ Efsharut ha-Devequt; Levi ben Abraham’s account of his misfortunes in his Battei ha-Nefesh ve-ha-Leashim; and why exactly Eli Æabillo chose to translate Jean Versor’s Questions on the Physics and other scholastic writings. In other words, the catalogue-reader could widen his perspective and understanding of Jewish philosophy through studying these entries. Adolf Neubauer’s Catalogue of the Hebrew Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library, printed in 1886, lists over 2500 manuscripts.63 It, too, is arranged by subject and has excellent indices. Neubauer (1831/2–1907) also lists the technical information in small print in a line or two. He, too, must be brief in light of the vast number of manuscripts described, but like other post-Leiden catalogues we have mentioned, discusses at length, citing passages, works he considers of special interest. A good example of this is his account of the unique manuscript of Hillel of Verona’s translation from the Latin of the Liber de causis; of Joseph ibn Shem-ov’s commentary on Averroes’ paraphrase of Alexander’s De Intellectu; and of Judah ben Solomon’s Midrash ha-Æokhmah, where

62 H. Zotenberg, Catalogues des manuscrits hébreux et samaritains de la Bibliothèque Impériale (Paris: Imprimerie impériale, 1866). On Zotenberg’s role in compiling the catalogue and the contribution of S. Munk and others, see the “rapport” by J. Tascherau at the beginning of Zotenberg, Catalogues. 63 Adolf Neubauer, Catalogue of the Hebrew Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1886). creating a new literary genre 293

Neubauer refers to the lengthy discussion in the Leiden catalogue, and then brings additional interesting passages from the text.64 Finally we come to George Margoliouth’s three-volume Catalogue of the Hebrew and Samaritan Manuscripts in the British Museum, which appeared between 1899 and 1915.65 Volume 3, which contains the section on philosophy, appeared in 1915 and describes 45 of the 1206 manuscripts listed in the catalogue. Another 55 manuscripts are in the related disciplines of ethics, mathematics and astronomy, and medicine. This is a large print easy-to-read catalogue which, although it does not contain appendices, does reproduce important passages from the manuscripts within the descriptions of them. Margoliouth (1853–1924) deﬁnitely intended his catalogue to be consulted by readers to inform them about matters in medieval Jewish philosophy, yet he has little to say about the well-known classics of the ﬁeld, usually just adding the colophon of the scribe to the basic information provided for the manuscript.66 Each entry in the catalogue begins with a clear statement of the technical information about the manuscript. References to Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen abound. Usually there are incipits and conclusions of the books and each of their sections and, at times, lengthy citations and discussion. For example, he copies most of Anatoli’s preface to Averroes’ middle commentaries on the logical writings with some discussion of it, and the incipits and endings for each section of the various commentaries. Margoliouth may not have been aware that Anatoli’s preface was printed in the Hamburg catalogue, or he may have published it anyway because of its importance.67

64 See ibid., pp. 466–467 (MS 1318), 483 (MS 1353), and 470 (MS 1321). Neu- bauer was quite familiar with the Leiden catalogue and, in fact, refers the reader to it in his ﬁrst listing in the philosophy section, Ibn Æasdai’s translation of Isaac Israeli’s Sefer ha-Yesodot (p. 463 [MS 1316]). Cf. Cat. Leiden, p. 37. Cf. also the reference to Cat. Leiden, p. 154, in the discussion of MS 1319, the anonymous translation of Maimo- nides’ commentary on Hippocrates’ Aphorisms. 65 George Margoliouth, Catalogue of the Hebrew and Samaritan Manuscripts in the British Museum, 3 vols. (London: Hart, 1899–1915). 66 See, e.g., ibid., MS 897, p. 202 (Baya), MS 901, p. 204 (Halevi), MS 906, p. 212 (Maimonides), and MS 921, p. 231 (Albo). 67 Ibid., MS 879, pp. 172–173. Margoliouth seems to have been quite interested in manuscript variants and may have copied the passages for comparison purposes as well. For example, he reproduces long passages from Judah Messer Leon’s supercommentary on Averroes’ logical commentaries just for the sake of comparison with the text copied from a Munich manuscript (MS 881, pp. 174–175); and he copies the beginning of Gersonides’ preface to one of his supercommentaries on one of Averroes’ middle commentaries, even though he knows it appears in the Leiden catalogue, to 294 steven harvey and resianne fontaine

The texts Margoliouth chose to highlight have indeed contributed to our knowledge. One illustration is his lengthy description of a Hebrew translation of Aristotle’s De animalibus which, he stated, was intended “to afford some data to aid in the solution to the problem” from what language the translation was made. It is in fact only now that Mauro Zonta has solved this problem.68 But the one lengthy manuscript description that keeps students of Jewish philosophy returning to his catalogue is his detailed outline, with numerous citations, of the remarkable manuscript of odros odrosi’s translations of the Islamic philosophers.69

4. Uses Made of the Leiden Catalogue by Students of Medieval Jewish Philosophy

Ernest Renan was perhaps the first to make use of the Leiden catalogue for gathering information on the medieval Jewish philosophers, gleaning facts from it for his account of Jewish Averroism in his revised version of Averroès et l’averroïsme, published a few years after the catalogue in 1861. Renan was aware that previous biographical- bibliographical sources were not so reliable. For example, in a discussion of the first Hebrew translations of scientific texts, he notes that the catalogue of the Bibliothèque Impériale is in error when it claims that Judah ibn Tibbon, the “prince of the translators,” translated certain of Averroes’ commentaries on the physical writings. Equally wrong are Bartolocci and Wolf in stating that Judah’s son, Samuel, translated Averroes’ Epitome of the Physics. All the Ibn Tibbon translations of Averroes’ commentaries were by Moses ibn Tibbon. “Yet,” Renan adds, “Samuel was in a sense the first translator of Averroes’ physical and metaphysical works, for his grand work, entitled The Opinions of the Philosophers, is a kind of encyclopedia, extracted often word for word from Averroes, the author he called the most faithful interpreter

argue—rather naively—that if both readings are correct, the supercommentary is on an epitome and not a middle commentary (MS 882, pp. 175; cf. Cat. Leiden, p. 208). 68 Mauro Zonta, “The Zoological Writings in the Hebrew Tradition,” in Aristotle’s Animals in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, eds. Carlos Steel, Guy Guildentops, and Peter Beullens (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1999), esp. pp. 48–52. 69 Margoliouth, Catalogue, MS 890, pp. 186–190. creating a new literary genre 295 of Aristotle.”70 Now, as both Steinschneider and Renan would eventually learn, this encyclopedia was actually not by Samuel, but by Shem-ov Falaquera.71 What is significant, however, is that Renan learned of this work, its importance, its nature, and some views of its compiler from the Leiden catalogue, and immediately was able to incorporate it into his account of Jewish Averroism. As Renan notes: “Steinschneider was the first to make known this work.”72 Renan next begins to discuss another encyclopedia, Midrash ha-Æokhmah by Judah ben Solomon ha-Kohen of Toledo. Renan explains that this book, the Hebrew version of which was written around 1247, also follows Averroes to a great extent. He adds that the technical terms Judah uses are very different from the canon of Tibbonite terms. How does Renan know about this work, its importance, and even its scientific vocabulary? Again he notes: “The first description of this work comes from Steinschneider’s [Leiden catalogue] as well.”73 Renan also cites the Leiden catalogue as a source for knowledge on Anatoli’s translation of Averroes’ middle commentaries on logic, Moses ibn Tibbon’s translations of Averroes’ epitomes and his translation of Averroes’ commentary on Avicenna’s al-Urjûza, Kalonymus’ translation of Aver- roes’ Middle Commentary on the Metaphysics, various Latin-to-Hebrew translations of Aristotle, Moses Narboni’s commentaries, Joseph ibn Shem-ov’s Commentary on the Possibility of Conjunction, a commentator on Averroes whose name is uncertain, and the influence on Jewish thinkers of the Latin polemic against the Averroists.74 Renan also refers to the Leiden catalogue for information on various translations of Averroes’ Tahâfut al-tahâfut into Latin and Hebrew by three different translators named Kalonymus. Bartolocci, Wolf, and those who followed them, such as Renan himself in the first edition of Averroès et

70 Renan, Averroès et l’averroïsme, p. 187. 71 Twenty years later, in the 1878 Cat. Berlin (p. 25), Steinschneider noted that the encyclopedia had been “falsely attributed to Samuel ibn Tibbon.” See further, HÜ, p. 6. A year earlier, Renan and Neubauer were still attributing it to Ibn Tibbon. See Ernest Renan (and Adolf Neubauer), Les rabbins français du commencement du XIVe siècle (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1877; reprint, Westmead, Farnborough, England: Gregg, 1969), pp. 574–575. 72 Renan, Averroès et l’averroïsme, p. 187, n. 2. 73 Renan, Averroès et l’averroïsme, p. 187, n. 3. 74 Renan, Averroès et l’averroïsme, pp. 188, n. 3; 189, n. 1; 190, n. 4; 193, n. 1; 194, nn. 1 and 3; 196, nn. 3 and 5; and 193, n. 1. 296 steven harvey and resianne fontaine l’averroïsme,75 were understandably confused. As Renan points out, in the catalogue Steinschneider “straightened out the confusions.”76 The catalogue is also Renan’s source for clarifying the confusion concerning the place name of the translator Moses ben Solomon of Salon, whether Narboni was a translator and whether Elia del Medigo translated Averroes into Latin.77 Renan, it seems, recognized that the Lei- den catalogue was a mine of information on the Jewish philosophers. Over forty years later Renan, together with Adolf Neubauer, were still turning to the Leiden catalogue for information on the medieval Jewish philosophers in their Les écrivains juifs français du XIVe siècle, just as they had in their earlier Les rabbins français du commencement du XIVe siècle.78 This is a bit surprising, for many of Steinschneider’s ﬁndings in the Leiden catalogue had by that time been embodied into later works, including catalogues and, in particular, Steinschneider’s Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen.79 Of course, scholars after Renan continued to rely on the Leiden catalogue in their study of medieval Jewish philosophy.80 As one example

75 Renan, Averroès et l’averroïsme (Paris, 1852), pp. 150–151. 76 Renan, Averroès et l’averroïsme, rev. ed., p. 191, nn. 1–3. Cf. Les écrivains juifs français du XIVe siècle (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1893; reprint, Westmead, Farnborough, England : Gregg, 1969), pp. 461–462. 77 Renan, Averroès et l’averroïsme, pp. 192, n. 5, 194, n. 3, and 197, n. 1. 78 See, e.g., Renan (and Neubauer), Les rabbins français, pp. 497, 575, 594, and 599; and idem, Les écrivains juifs français, pp. 424–425, 431, 461, 555, 645, 668–669, 679, and 697. 79 Although both Les écrivains juifs français du XIVe siècle and HÜ appeared in 1893, Renan and Neubauer knew HÜ and cite it on several occasions in their book. 80 There is early evidence for the reliance on the Leiden Catalogue by scholars in other fields as well, e.g., Karaite studies. Steinschneider was not always so pleased with this use of his catalogue. In 1897 he complained that Simha Pinsker in Liqqute Qadmoniyyot: Zur Geschichte des Karaismus und der karäischen Literatur (Wien, 1860) merely repeated what was written in his Cat. Leiden and that Julius Fürst in Geschichte des Karäerthums (Leipzig, 1862–69) simply copied about half of the catalogue and distorted it through incorrect conclusions, without even mentioning its author’s name. Stein- schneider added: “[I]n Bibliotheca Judaica [Fürst] copies my preface and then attacks the catalogue which he subsequently plunders” (Steinschneider, Vorlesungen [above, n. 20], 80). Indeed, in 1863 Fürst discussed the earlier catalogues of the Leiden collections in his Bibliotheca Judaica and, in fact, omitted Steinschneider’s name when mentioning his Cat. Leiden. Instead, he wrote that a Jew was commissioned to produce the catalogue, but regrettably the goal was not completely achieved (Bibliotheca Judaica III [above, n. 9], p. LIX). Two years later, in his preface to Geschichte des Karäerthums II, Fürst acknowledged his use of the Cat. Leiden for his references to Karaite manuscripts, but again without mentioning Steinschneider’s name and mistakenly dating it to 1855 ([Leipzig, 1865], p. X). Notwithstanding his criticism that Cat. Leiden contains much that is irrelevant, polemical or incomprehensible, Fürst did recognize its importance creating a new literary genre 297 of this, consider the use made by scholars of authors’ sayings from passages in the manuscripts quoted in the Leiden catalogue. For example, on the basis of citations in the catalogue, David Kaufmann takes Avicenna as a source of the formulation of the Delphic maxim in Jew- ish thought, Ludwig Venetianer finds another quote from Falaquera about judging a statement on its truth, not on who says it, and Henry Malter quotes from Caleb Afendopolo concerning the disgracefulness of the sense of touch.81 In gauging the contribution of the Leiden catalogue for the study of Jewish philosophy, one must also consider its indirect influence. For example, the Leiden catalogue is cited countless times in Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen for a wide variety of facts and interpretations. Scholars who wished to refer to Steinschneider for these invariably cited his magisterial work and not the Leiden catalogue. Consider, for example, a feature of the catalogue we have mentioned in passing, Steinschneider’s occasional clarification of technical Hebrew terms. In his brief study of Abraham bar Æiyya’s philosophical terminology, Israel Efros refers on seven occasions to Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen for the understanding of certain terms; for two of them—“akhmei ha-meqar” and “binah”—Steinschneider

for all ﬁelds of Jewish studies, referring in particular to the medical and philosophical manuscripts (Bibliotheca Judaica III, p. LIX). 81 David Kaufmann, Geschichte der Attributenlehre in der Jüdischen Religionsphilosophie des Mittelalters von Sa{adja bis Maimuni (Gotha: Perthes, 1877), p. 398, n. 60 (cf. Cat. Leiden, p. 71, n. 3), regarding the Delphic maxim in De{ot ha-Filosoﬁm; Ludwig Venetianer, Das Buch der Grade von Schemtob b. Joseph ibn Falaquera (Berlin, 1894), p. XIV, n. 3 (cf. Cat. Leiden, p. 63), regarding a quote from Falaquera on judging a statement on its truth, not on whoever says it; Henry Malter, “Shem Tob ben Joseph Palquera: His Treatise of the Dream,” Jewish Quarterly Review 1 (1910–1911), p. 480, n. 79 (cf. Cat. Leiden, p. 131), regarding a quote from Caleb Afendopolo concerning the disgracefulness of the sense of touch. See more recently, Steven Harvey, Falaquera’s Epistle of the Debate: An Introduction to Jewish Philosophy (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1987), pp. 17, n. 7 (Cat. Leiden, p. 65), 19, n. 13 (Cat. Leiden, 63), 40, n. 73 (Cat. Leiden, 71), 43, n. 80 (Cat. Leiden, 64 and 74), and 51, n. 100 (Cat. Leiden, 63 and 65), 107, n. 23 (Cat. Leiden, 62), 109–110, n. 35 (Cat. Leiden, 63 and 73), 121, n. 79 (Cat. Leiden, 62). Kaufmann’s interest in the Hebrew encyclopedias was apparently piqued by the descriptions in the Cat. Leiden, and he would later quote from them at some length. See his Die Sinne. Beiträge zur Geschichte der Physiologie und Psychologie im Mittelalter. Aus Hebräischen und Arabischen Quellen (Budapest, 1884). Note that after a long Hebrew quote from Midrash ha-Æokhmah from the Leiden manuscript, he writes: “in der Vorrede seiner durch die Liberalität De Goeje’s mir bekannt gewordenen Encyclopädie Midrash ha-Æokhmah” (Die Sinne, p. 4, n. 5). 298 steven harvey and resianne fontaine himself refers us back to the Leiden catalogue.82 Malter also cites Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen and thus indirectly Leiden for the understanding of “akhmei ha-meqar.”83

Conclusion

Students and scholars of Jewish philosophy today continue to consult catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts, not only to learn the basic facts and location of manuscripts—information which is becoming more and more readily available on the internet—but also to learn about the cited books themselves and to read passages from these works. This notion that catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts can or should serve such a function began with Steinschneider’s Leiden catalogue, was further developed by him in later catalogues and soon by others. Indeed this information made the Leiden catalogue of immediate interest to scholars such as Renan, who were attempting to tell the story of Jewish philosophy. Steinschneider also understood better than others the dangers of relying on information in previous catalogues and listings, which themselves had often been just copied blindly from older sources. The Leiden catalogue is the first such catalogue that recognizes the responsibility of the compiler to check and correct such information. Most post-Leiden cataloguers learned that they needed to cite pre-Leiden sources with care, often seeking confirmation and clarification from Steinschneider’s works. Steinschneider was able to change the face of Hebrew manuscript catalogues only because he knew so much, and because—at least with regard to Jewish philosophy and science—he actually was interested in reading these works. Few compilers of Hebrew manuscripts adopted his custom of adding

82 See Israel Efros, “Studies in Pre-Tibbonian Philosophical Terminology,” in idem, Studies in Medieval Jewish Philosophy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1974), pp. 238 and 191, HÜ, p. 6, n. 43, Cat. Leiden, p. 63; and Efros, “Studies,” p. 235, HÜ, p. 3, n. 12, Cat. Leiden, p. 59. 83 Malter, “Palquera’s Treatise,” p. 490, n. 129. Jacob Klatzkin in his Thesau- rus philosophicus linguae Hebraicae et veteris et recentioris, 4 vols. (Berlin: Eschkol-Verlag, 1928–1933) similarly cites HÜ and thus indirectly Cat. Leiden for understanding certain technical philosophic terms such as “sevara” as syllogism (vol. 3, 90; cf. HÜ, p. 2, Cat. Leiden, p. 56) and “avir[i]” as a Hebrew title of Aristotle’s Meteorology (vol. 1, 25; cf. HÜ, p. 2, Cat. Leiden, p. 57). creating a new literary genre 299 appendices with long passages from select works, but many recognized the value of describing the content of important lesser-known works and citing from them at length.84 In these ways, the Leiden catalogue redeﬁned the nature and purpose of Hebrew manuscript catalogues and, we would claim, created a new literary genre.

84 Cf. e.g., Arthur Zacharias Schwarz, Die Hebräischen Handschriften der Nationalbiblio- thek in Wien, 2 vols. (Leipzig: Strache, 1925), which goes into great detail in outlining the works cited, and includes very long passages from them: e.g., p. 144 (MS 135), Hebrew translation of Alfarabi’s short commentaries on the Organon; p. 158, Kalony- mus’ Middle Commentary on the Metaphysics; p. 159, Gersonides’ supercommentary on Averroes’ Middle Commentary on the Posterior Analytics; and p. 166, Narboni’s Commen- tary on Alghazali’s Intentions of the Philosophers. Cf. also, e.g., the catalogues of Cam- bridge (1876) and Rosenthaliana (1875). 14. STEINSCHNEIDER’S MANUSCRIPTS

Benjamin Richler

Anyone doing research that requires the consultation of Hebrew manuscripts, especially in the ﬁelds of philosophy and science, will sooner or later come across references to the works of Moritz Stein- schneider. They may be references to the many bibliographies he composed; among them bibliographies of translations of medieval works into Hebrew, of mathematical treatises by Jews, of books written in Judeo-Arabic, of Yiddish literature, and we have still not exhausted the list. They may be references to his monumental catalogue of the printed books in the Bodleian Library, a work that extends to spaces beyond the Bodleian’s bookshelves as it includes many printed works that are found only in depositories elsewhere or are no longer extant. And, of course, they may refer to one of the many catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts that Steinschneider compiled. No other author compiled as many catalogues of Hebrew manuscript collections in institutional libraries as Steinschneider did; these include the collections of the Leiden (1858),1 Munich (1875, 1895),2 Hamburg (1878),3 and Berlin (1878–1897)4 libraries. Steinschneider also made plans to catalogue the manuscripts in the Bodleian Library, having already examined many of them during his summer sojourns in the library while preparing his catalogue of the printed books there, but as he was ill when the decision to print the catalogue was made, Adolph Neubauer, his rival and nemesis, was assigned the task. True, while the number of catalogues he compiled, four, is greater than the number of catalogues his nearest competitor, Neubauer, prepared, three, the actual number of manuscripts described in all these catalogues is only around 1050. This ﬁgure is less than the number of manuscripts in each of the

1 Cat. Leiden. 2 Cat. Munich (1875; rev. ed., Munich, 1895). 3 Cat. Hamburg. 4 Cat. Berlin, I–II (Berlin, 1878–1897) (Die Handschriften-Verzeichnisse der König- lichen Bibliothek zu Berlin, Bd. 2, Abt. 1–2). 302 benjamin richler

catalogues of the Bodleian,5 Parma,6 Paris7 and London8 libraries, but it would be misleading to appraise each catalogue solely on the basis of the number of manuscripts described without paying attention to the accuracy of the descriptions and their evident erudition. One method to appraise catalogues might be to rate them on a scale, placing those that need the most revision at the top. In this rating, catalogues prepared in the 18th and 19th centuries for the collections in Florence, Vatican, Parma, Turin and Paris—to name a few—would be near the top of the scale, whereas Steinschneider’s catalogues would be close to the bottom. In fact, new catalogues or revisions and corrections of the Oxford, Parma, Vatican and Paris collections have been published recently or are in various stages of compilation. The only justiﬁcation for preparing revised editions of Steinschneider’s catalogues would be to translate them into English or Hebrew so that modern scholars and laypeople who do not read Latin or German would be able to consult them, and to update the bibliography and add some identiﬁcations of texts, mainly kabbalah and rabbinics, on the basis of recent scholarship or comparison with manuscripts and sources not available to Steinschneider. Furthermore, the number of manuscripts actually described by Steinschneider is higher, if we take into account the manuscripts he described for booksellers or private collectors. These include 146 manuscripts from the M. S. Ghirondi collection offered for sale by Samuel Schönblum (Lemberg) and presented in great detail in a hectographed publication of Steinschneider’s autograph entries;9 85 manuscripts offered for sale by Julius Benzian (who also published Hebräische Bibliog- raphie, edited by Steinschneider); about 50 manuscripts offered for sale by Fischl Hirsch and discussed in volumes of Hebräische Bibliographie; 36 manuscripts offered for sale by A. Asher & Co., described partly in a

5 Catalogue of the Hebrew Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library and in the College Libraries of Oxford, Including MSS in Other Languages, Which Are Written with Hebrew Characters, or Relating to the Hebrew Language or Literature; and a Few Samaritan MSS, compiled by Adolf Neubauer, vols. [I]–II (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1886–1906). 6 Hebrew Manuscripts in the Biblioteca Palatina in Parma, ed. Benjamin Richler, [with] Palaeographical and codicological descriptions [by] Malachi Beit-Arié ( Jerusalem: Jewish National and University Library, 2001). 7 H. Zotenberg, Catalogues des manuscrits hébreux et samaritains de la Bibliothèque Imperiale (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866). 8 G. Margoliouth, Catalogue of the Hebrew and Samaritan Manuscripts in the British Museum, I–III (London: Hart, 1899–1915). 9 M. Steinschneider, Catalog hebräischer Handschriften, grössten Theils aus dem Nachlass des Rabb. M.S. Girondi (Berlin, 1872). steinschneider’s manuscripts 303 separately printed catalogue10 and partly in Hebräische Bibliographie; and numerous other similarly treated manuscripts in that same journal and elsewhere. We must also take into consideration untold numbers of identifications of individual works made by Steinschneider, and found in hundreds of his articles and books, for example, the identification of hitherto anonymous treatises translated from Arabic and other languages made in his Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (Berlin, 1893). The index of manuscripts quoted in this monumental book occupies almost 8 pages of tightly spaced small type, listing about 2000 individual manuscripts. For example, Stein- schneider cites almost 300 manuscripts from the Bodleian collection in this book. Steinschneider did not necessarily examine each manuscript he quoted. He could not have visited each and every library, and he did not have an Institute of Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts that would have enabled him to consult almost every Hebrew manuscript in the world and compare any manuscript with any other. Thus, he often had to rely on printed catalogues or on agents or acquaintances in foreign lands to consult the manuscripts and send him their impressions or copies of texts that interested him. This method of inquiry sometimes resulted in errors, albeit not very numerous, in his writings, but in no way reduces the importance and general accuracy of his scholarship. Finally, we must mention Steinschneider’s Vorlesungen über die Kunde hebräischer Handschriften, deren Sammlungen und Verzeichnisse (Berlin, 1897), the only handbook of Hebrew manuscript lore to have been available for close to a century until the handbooks by Malachi Beit-Arié, on Hebrew codicology,11 Benjamin Richler12 and Colette Sirat13 on Hebrew manuscripts in general, which all were published within the last two decades. Nevertheless, Steinschneider’s Vorlesungen still contains much valuable information on topics not discussed in these books. * Steinschneider’s activities as a cataloguer and researcher of Hebrew manuscripts are well known. Less is known about him as a collector

10 M. Steinschneider, Catalog No. 86 (1868). 11 M. Beit-Arié, Hebrew Codicology (Paris: CNRS, 1976; rev. ed.: Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 1981). 12 B. Richler, Hebrew Manuscripts: A Treasured Legacy ( Jerusalem: Ofeq Institute, 1990). 13 C. Sirat, Du scribe au livre (Paris CNRS Éditions, 1994); Hebrew Manuscripts of the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). 304 benjamin richler of manuscripts. Steinschneider could hardly be classified as a typical collector. He did not possess the passion for acquisition that drives true collectors. Unlike his contemporaries, the successful businessman Solo- mon Joachim Halberstamm and the scholar David Kaufmann, who married into a wealthy family, he never had the financial resources to purchase expensive rare or illuminated manuscripts. It seems that he acquired manuscripts that interested him and did not hesitate to sell them when in need of funds. We can identify over 80 manuscripts that belonged to Steinschneider at one time or another. We first encounter him as a collector in the Preface to the first catalogue of the Royal Library (now Staatsbibliothek) in Berlin in 1878. Here, Steinschneider related that as the printing of the catalogue was being completed, 16 additional manuscripts were acquired and then described in the Nachtrag, or Appendix, at the end of the catalogue. What Steinschneider did not acknowledge: 14 of these manuscripts were acquired from him; even in the description of the manuscripts in the Nachtrag he made no mention of his ownership, although he did list the previous provenances of the codices. The only proof we have that he had actually owned these books is found at the end of the catalogue in the Index of Owners, where “Steinschneider, M.” is listed as one of the owners, together with the call-numbers of the 14 manuscripts he had owned. What compelled him to sell these manuscripts to the Berlin Library, we do not know. We can only surmise that Steinschneider, who never accumulated wealth and existed on a comfortable but frugal salary as principal of a school for girls in Berlin, was in need of cash. And the Berlin Library, not resting on its laurels, was continuing to acquire Hebrew manuscripts. Steinschneider probably offered the library a few of his manuscripts, and it agreed to purchase them. It was not as if he was clearing his bookshelves of superfluous books; almost all the manuscripts sold to the library at this time dealt with subjects of utmost interest to him—philosophy, astronomy, mathematics, medicine. Sell- ing the manuscripts to the library was not the same as selling them at auction or to a dealer who would resell them to different owners, some of whom would remain anonymous. Steinschneider, who spent each Wednesday reading in the Berlin Library,14 would always be able

14 A. Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” in Jewish Studies in Memory of George A. Kohut, eds. Salo W. Baron and Alexander Marx (New York: The Alexander Kohut Memo- rial Foundation, 1935), p. 518. steinschneider’s manuscripts 305 to consult “his” manuscripts. He could, ﬁguratively, have one’s cake and eat it too. We know that he did not sell all his manuscripts to the library on this occasion, but we do not know if he offered additional codices that the library turned down at the time. At some point after the publication of the ﬁrst volume of the Berlin catalogue in 1878, but before 1891, Steinschneider assigned numbers to the manuscripts that remained in his possession and to those he acquired later, enumerating them 1–39. In 1891, he offered 13 more manuscripts to the Berlin Library,15 which then purchased six of them16 and later, before the publication of the second volume of the catalogue in 1897, four additional manuscripts from this list.17 Three manuscripts from the list were not sold and remained in Steinschneider’s possession until his death. The list I refer to is found on one leaf, dated 1891, in a small volume of bibliographical notes and booklists by Stein- schneider in the library of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America ( JTSA) in New York: MS 2814. It lists the 13 manuscripts offered for sale, numbered 1–13, the corresponding numbers in Steinschneider’s library, the price of each item and the call-numbers assigned to the manuscripts purchased in 1891 by the Berlin Library. The latter also purchased MS Steinschneider 25, which was not on the list of manuscripts offered for sale in 1891.18 One additional manuscript sold to the Berlin Library, no. 34 in Steinschneider’s library,19 Hippocrates’ Apho- risms with a commentary by Maimonides in an anonymous translation,

15 Nos. 5, 8, 9, 10, 12, 15, 17, 18, 23, 26, 29, 30, 32 in Steinschneider’s collection. 16 The manuscripts purchased in 1891 are: MS Steinschneider MS Berlin Catalogue no. 9 Or. Oct. 463 188 10 Or. Fol. 1618 219 17 Or. Qu. 808 180 23 Or. Qu. 809 237 26 Or. Qu. 810 142 32 Or. Oct. 464 187 17 The manuscripts purchased after 1891 are: MS Steinschneider MS Berlin Catalogue no. 8 Or. Qu. 832 143 15 Or. Qu. 833 193 18 Or. Qu. 834 241 30 Or. Qu. 836 232 18 MS Berlin Or. Qu. 835 (catalogue no. 239). 19 MS Berlin Or. Oct. 549 (catalogue no. 247). 306 benjamin richler had been acquired by Steinschneider in 1872 from S. J. Halberstamm in exchange for a volume of Joshua ibn Shueib’s sermons. The Aphorisms had been no. 30 in Halberstamm’s collection and so, after the book swap, he assigned number 30 to Ibn Shueib’s sermons.20 Another manuscript that Halberstamm traded with him was no. 23 in Steinschneider’s library, a collection of medical and astronomical works that also included the Aphorisms. Halberstamm had bought the manuscript from S. Schönblum, who had purchased it from the S. D. Luzzatto collection, and then gave or sold it at one point to Stein- schneider, who assigned to it the number 23; it was traded back and forth before ﬁnally returning to Halberstamm.21 Steinschneider subsequently assigned the number 23 to the manuscript that he received in return from Halberstamm and later sold it to the Berlin Library.22 That the numbers 1–39 are not in the chronological order of their acquisition by Steinschneider is evidenced by the fact that no. 34 was acquired in 1872 and no. 27 in 1886 or later. Steinschneider also sold to Halberstamm a collection of 31 manuscripts from the writings of the 19th-century Italian scholar Mordecai Samuel Ghirondi (1799–1852), including many volumes of Ghirondi’s correspondence.23 According to a list of Halberstamm’s manuscripts compiled by the owner,24 Steinschneider sold him the volumes in 1873, shortly after compiling a catalogue of Ghirondi’s collection of manuscripts for the bookseller Samuel Schönblum.25 One wonders if Schönblum had given these books to Steinschneider as a gift or as payment for his services. Their contents would certainly have been of no special interest to Steinschneider, so it is not surprising that he sold them to Halberstamm. Many of the manuscripts in Steinschneider’s collection were acquired from bookdealers with whom he had connections. One manuscript of 19 leaves with astrological texts, part of a manuscript that originally

20 The Halberstamm collection was acquired by the Montefiore Library and the Ibn Shueib manuscript was assigned the number 60 in the library. In 2004, almost all the manuscripts in the collection were sold at Sotheby’s auction house in New York. 21 MS Halberstamm 148, afterward Montefiore collection 439 in the Jews’ College Library. 22 MS Berlin Or. Qu. 609 (Catalogue no. 237). 23 MSS Halberstamm 271–301. Nos. 56–58, 160–184, 186, 188, 477, 481 in the former Montefiore collection. 24 MS New York, JTSA 2823. 25 Cf. n. 9 above. steinschneider’s manuscripts 307 held 92 folios, formerly belonging to Moise Soave (1820–1882),26 was given to him by the dealer Julius Benzian in payment or gratitude for compiling a catalogue.27 At least two manuscripts belonging to Fischl Hirsch and described by Steinschneider in Hebräische Bibliographie in 187128 were acquired by Steinschneider and sold to the Berlin Library in 1877 or 1878.29 At least four manuscripts acquired by Osias Schorr (1816–1895) from Isaac Samuel Reggio (1784–1855) were obtained by Steinschneider in 1869 and sold to the Berlin Library; two of them were included in the 1878 catalogue30 and two in the second part.31 At least four manuscripts were acquired from Moise Soave in Venice, some of them in 1852.32 Steinschneider’s library also included two manuscripts formerly belonging to the Bisliches brothers (Mordecai and Ephraim) that were described by Zunz in ha-Palit in 1850.33 Other previous owners were Nathan Coronel,34 Schönblum,35 Moses Wilhelm Shapira36 and Adolf Jellinek,37 though it is unclear if Steinschneider acquired them directly from these owners or through intermediary dealers. One of the more curious items in Steinschneider’s library is a collection of fragments of ancient piyyutim and transcriptions of similar compositions from other fragments made by Abraham Firkovich (1786–1874) and sent to Steinschneider, perhaps for his appraisal, perhaps as a gift.38 Steinschneider did have connections with Firkovich; among the manuscripts and papers in the Steinschneider archives at JTSA is a handwritten catalogue of over 800 manuscripts from the first Firkovich collection from around 1862 that must have been sent to him by Firkovich himself. The subject matter of the Steinschneider manuscripts reflects the interests of their owner. The majority are in the fields of science and

26 MS New York, JTSA 2648. 27 Catalogue d’une precieuse collection hébraïque de manuscrits, incunables et de livres rares et importants en vente chez Julius Benzian (Berlin, 1869). 28 HB 11 (1871): 108, 128. 29 Cat. Berlin I, nos. 113–114. 30 MSS Berlin Or. Qu. 645 and 651 (Catalogue nos. 116 and 122). 31 MSS Berlin Or. Qu. 810 and 832 (Catalogue nos. 142 and 143). 32 MSS Berlin Or. Fol. 1055 and Qu. 834 and 836 (Catalogue nos. 110, 241 and 232), MS New York, JTSA 2670. 33 MSS Berlin Or. Qu. 835 (Catalogue no. 239) and New York, JTSA, MS 2314. 34 MS Berlin Or. Fol. 1054 (Catalogue no. 109). 35 MS Berlin Or. Fol. 1618 (Catalogue no. 219). 36 MS Berlin Or. Qu. 578 (Catalogue no. 115), MSS New York, JTSA 2649, 2742. 37 MS Berlin Or. Fol. 1056 (Catalogue no. 111). 38 New York, JTSA MS 4391. 308 benjamin richler philosophy (astronomy or astrology 6, medicine 14, philosophy 13, piyyutim and poetry 6, polemics 5 and single manuscripts in philology, biblical commentary, magic and ethics). The number of manuscripts, over fifty (excluding the Ghirondi volumes), can be misleading. Fifty- five Hebrew manuscripts is a fairly sizeable collection, but in reality, many of the manuscripts comprise a small number of leaves, some as few as ten. Fully half of the manuscripts have less than 100 leaves and less than ten have over 200 leaves, which is about the average size of a typical medieval manuscript. The total number of leaves in the collection is just over 5,500. It may be that Steinschneider was given many of the smaller manuscripts by friends or by many of the booksellers he worked with, as they were of little monetary value and worth more as a token of friendship than as an item to be sold. Two or three of the manuscripts are late 19th-century copies of other manuscripts made for Steinschneider. He did not offer these manuscripts for sale as he must have realized that he would only receive a pittance for them. Although the collection was split up evenly with about half the manuscripts going to the Berlin Library and half to the JTSA library, the former received the lion’s share of the manuscripts if we take their size into consideration. The smallest manuscripts with less than 25 leaves, eleven in all, were not sold to the Berlin Library, but remained in Steinschneider’s possession and eventually reached the JTSA library. About 60% of the total number of leaves were sold to the Berlin Library, so that only about 40% ended up in JTS. Steinschneider was not a collector of books for collection’s sake nor was he a bibliomaniac. He read and studied the texts of most or even all of the codices he acquired. On a flyleaf or a piece of paper appended to most of his manuscripts Steinschneider wrote a table of contents and bibliographical details. He read through the text pen in hand, underlining all the names mentioned in the text or interesting paragraphs. In the margins he added references to other manuscripts, notes, explanations and other details. Sometimes he added variant readings from other manuscripts in red ink.39 To him books were not precious artifacts to be protected behind closed cabinet doors, but old friends to be enriched through mutual communication. Steinschneider treated the manuscripts he read or catalogued in other libraries similarly;

39 MS Berlin Or. Fol. 1056 (Catalogue no. 111). steinschneider’s manuscripts 309 manuscripts in Berlin, Munich and elsewhere all bear the same signs that he had perused them. What was the fate of the manuscripts that were not sold to the Berlin Library? In his history of the Library of the Jewish Theological Semi- nary of America in New York, Herman Dicker (1874–1933) wrote: Marx [Alexander Marx, librarian of the Seminary; B.R.] was able to claim several major collections on behalf of the Seminary. The acquisition of the library of his teacher, Moritz Steinschneider, may have been the most gratifying for him personally. In 1907, at almost 91 years of age, Steinschneider passed away in Berlin. His death enabled the Seminary to take possession of his library as a result of an unusual arrangement engineered by a former Steinschneider student . . . George Alexander Kohut (1874–1933). Steinschneider had never received a position commensurate with his accomplishments and capable of providing him with a decent income. . . . When Kohut, who had studied under him while a student at the Hochschule in Berlin, saw his old teacher again in June 1898, he was taken aback by Steinschneider’s financial straits. He tactfully suggested to Steinschneider that a fund be organized toward his support, to which his many students could make contributions. Proud and independent, Steinschneider said no. Upon his return to New York, Kohut discussed the dilemma with Abraham Freidus (1867–1923), librarian of the Public Library’s Jewish Division . . . Freidus came up with the idea of selling Steinschneider’s library then, with the proviso that he would retain his books during his lifetime. Excited by this solution, Kohut approached his friend Jacob Schiff. Schiff favored the idea, so Kohut entered into the delicate negotiations with Steinschneider. On December 5, 1898, Schiff was very pleased to write to Kohut that he had received a very cordial letter from Steinschneider in which he accepted the 10,000 marks offered as the purchase price of the library.40 George Alexander Kohut described his role succinctly in his own words: When, in June 1898, I visited my venerable teacher at his world-famed home in the Wallertheaterstrasse and learned that he was oppressed by financial cares, my heart went out to the man who, at a patriarchal age, was still valiantly fighting the battle of life. I delicately suggested that there were [!] a way out of his difficulties, if he permitted me to create a Fund, to which all his pupils would subscribe, as an offering of love and reverence, and which he could apply toward the adjust- ment of his more pressing needs. This proposal he categorically declined

40 H. Dicker, Of Learning and Libraries (New York: JTSA, 1988), pp. 22–23. 310 benjamin richler

to entertain. Upon my return to America, I conﬁded the matter to Freidus. It was his fertile mind which evolved the plan of purchasing the Steinschneider Library, concerning which, at my friend’s advice, I promptly wrote to Mr. Jacob Schiff—then the court of last appeal in all things. The idea was to acquire the collection on behalf of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America to which institution it be transferred after Steinschneider’s death. The negotiations were conducted through me as an intermediary and the letters and documents bearing upon this interesting transaction, formerly my property, are now in possession of the Seminary.41 The collection of the JTSA Library now includes, in addition to the printed books and archives of Steinschneider, 25 manuscripts. In addition, there are about two dozen “manuscripts” written by Stein- schneider himself, mainly bibliographical notes, copies of older manuscripts and lists of books that are kept in the manuscripts department of JTSA, rather than in the archives. A few similar items are found in other libraries, mainly in the Żydowski Instytut Historyczny ( Jewish Historical Institute) in Warsaw, which retains some manuscripts once conﬁscated by the Nazis from Jewish libraries in Germany and the lands they occupied.

41 G. A. Kohut, “Steinschneideriana,” in Studies in Jewish Bibliography and related subjects in Memory of Solomon Abraham Freidus (1867–1923) (New York: Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1929), p. 68. APPENDIX

PRESENT LOCATIONS OF STEINSCHNEIDER’S MANUSCRIPTS

Berlin, Staatsbibliothek

Or. Fol. 1054 Almagest by Ptolemy. 179 ff. Turkey? 1484. Byzantine script. Cat. Berlin 109. Or. Fol. 1055 Collection of commentaries by Levi b. Gershon on Averroes’ compen- diums of works by Aristotle. 211 ff. 14–15th cent. Sephardic script. Acquired from Moise Soave in 1851. Cat. Berlin 110. Or. Fol. 1056 Two different manuscripts bound together with philosophical works by al-Ghazâli and Averroes. 210 ff. 15th cent. Italian scripts. Purchased from Adolph Jellinek in 1857. Cat. Berlin 111. Or. Fol. 1057 Collection of short philosophical works. 29 ff. Mid-15th cent. Italian script. Cat. Berlin 112. Or. Fol. 1058 Collection of medical texts. 94 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 113. Formerly MS Fischl Hirsch 45. Or. Fol. 1059 Writings and poetry by Solomon da Piera. 118 ff. 16th cent. Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 114. Formerly MS Fischl Hirsch 51. Or. Fol. 1618 Collection of astrological texts. 96 ff. Ca. 1577. Italian script. Cat. Ber- lin 219. Formerly belonged to Marco Mortara and then to Samuel Schönblum. MS Steinschneider 10. Or. Oct. 463 Sefer Kelimat ha-Goyim by Profet (Isaac b. Moses) Duran. 31 ff. 16–17th cent. Italian script. Cat. Berlin 188. MS Steinschneider 9. 312 benjamin richler

Or. Oct. 464 Kitâb al-Muâdara wa al-Mu¦âkara by Moses ibn Ezra. Copied from a manuscript in the Bodleian Library. 161 ff. 19th cent. Ashkenazic script. Cat. Berlin 187. MS Steinschneider 32. Or. Oct. 549 Aphorisms by Hippocrates with the commentary by Maimonides. 117 ff. 16th cent.? Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 247. Acquired in exchange for another manuscript from Solomon Joachim Halberstamm. MS Steinschneider 34. Or. Qu. 645 Collection of astronomical and astrological works. 133 ff. 15th cent. Byzantine? script. Cat. Berlin 116. Acquired from Osias H. Schorr in 1869. Formerly belonged to Isaac Samuel Reggio. Or. Qu. 646 Commentary on Canticles by Immanuel b. Solomon of Rome. 74 ff. 16th cent. Italian script. Cat. Berlin 117. Or. Qu. 647 Collection of texts on philology and masorah. 234 ff. Trino (Italy). 1470. Italian script. Cat. Berlin 118. Or. Qu. 648 Iggeret Æai ben Yoqtan by Muammad ibn Tofeil. Anonymous translation from the Arabic, with a commentary by Moses Narboni. 150 ff. Viadana (Italy). 1460. Italian script. Cat. Berlin 119. Or. Qu. 649 Astronomical tables by Abraham bar iyya. 79 ff. 15th cent. Sephar- dic script. Cat. Berlin 120. Or. Qu. 650 Mozne ha-{Iyyunim, anonymous philosophical treatise translated by Jacob b. Makhir. Attributed by Steinschneider to al-Ghazali. 27 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 121. Or. Qu. 651 Magen Avraham, polemical treatise by Abraham Farissol. 115 ff. 16–17th cent. Italian script. Cat. Berlin 122. Acquired from Osias H. Schorr in 1869. Formerly belonged to Isaac Samuel Reggio. steinschneider’s manuscripts 313

Or. Qu. 652 Circa Instans, medical treatise by Platearius. 56 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 123. Or. Qu. 808 Seliot according to the rite of Tlemcen. 157 ff. 1766. Maghrebic script. Cat. Berlin 180. MS Steinschneider 17. Or. Qu. 809 Aphorisms by Hippocrates, with a commentary by Maimonides, and Abraham Caslari’s treatise on fevers. 50 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 237. Acquired in exchange for another manuscript from Solomon Joachim Halberstamm. MS Steinschneider 23. Or. Qu. 810 Zafenat Pa{anea, supercommentary on Ibn Ezra’s commentary on the Pentateuch by Joseph b. Eliezer. 88 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 142. Acquired from Osias H. Schorr in 1869. Formerly belonged to Isaac Solomon Reggio. MS Steinschneider 26. Or. Qu. 831 Collection of thirteen works, mainly on philosophy and medicine in different scripts. 198 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic scripts. Cat. Berlin 211. MS Steinschneider 4. Or. Qu. 832 Æeshek Shelomoh by Johanan Alemanno. 275 ff. 1568. Italian script. Cat. Berlin 143. Acquired from Osias H. Schorr in 1869. Formerly belonged to Isaac Solomon Reggio. MS Steinschneider 8. Or. Qu. 833 Collection of treatises on kabbalah. 153 ff. 14–15th cent. Sephardic scripts. Cat. Berlin 193. Formerly belonged to Eliezer Ashkenazi. MS Steinschneider 15. Or. Qu. 834 Collection of medical treatises. 77 ff. 1414. Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 241. Formerly belonged to Moise Soave. MS Steinschneider 18. Or. Qu. 835 Tzedat ha-Derakhim, Hebrew translation of Amad ibn al-Jazzâr’s medical treatise Viaticum. 140 ff. 1385. Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 239. 314 benjamin richler

Formerly belonged to the Bisliches brothers; no. 13 in the list of manuscripts described by Zunz in ha-Palit (1850). MS Steinschneider 25. Or. Qu. 836 Collection of medical treatises, many by Maimonides. 294 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic script. Cat. Berlin 232. Formerly belonged to Moise Soave. MS Steinschneider 30.

London—Monteﬁore Library ( formerly housed in Jews’ College)

MSS 56–58, 160–184, 186, 188, 477, 481 Writings by Mordecai Samuel Ghirondi, acquired by Solomon Joa- chim Halberstamm from Steinschneider and later sold together with Halberstamm’s entire ﬁrst collection to the Monteﬁore Library. MS 439 Collection of medical and astronomical texts. 79 ff. Formerly MS Stein- schneider 23. Exchanged with Halberstamm for another manuscript.

New York—Jewish Theological Seminary of America Library

MS 1363 Story of Esther in rhymes by Barukh Bendit Goldschmidt. 9 pp. 1804. Ashkenazic script. Probably based on a similar poem by Jekuthiel Gor- don ﬁrst printed in 1765. MS Steinschneider 7 (cf. HB 20 [1880]: 28). MS 1895 Collection of eight short treatises on kabbalah. 18 ff. 14–15th cent. Ashkenazic script. MS Steinschneider 28. MS 2276 Part of Averroes’ Middle Commentary on Aristotle’s De Generatione et Corruptione. 11 ff. 18th cent. Ashkenazic script. Formerly belonged to Wolf Heidenheim, who probably copied the manuscript. MS Stein- schneider 3. MS 2283 Jonah Kohen-Rapa (attributed): Pilpul al Zeman, Zemanim, Zemanehem. Part One. Anti-Christian parody of the Passover Haggadah. 23 ff. 18th cent. Italian script. MS Steinschneider 20. steinschneider’s manuscripts 315

MS 2289 Ifhâm al-Yahûd, anti-Jewish polemic by Sama’uâl b. Judah Ibn Abbas, a convert to Islam. 103 ff. 19th cent. Arabic characters. MS Stein- schneider 39. MS 2311 Averroes: Quaestiones [Ha-Derushim ha-Tiv{iim].With a commentary by Moses Narboni. 72 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic script. MS Steinschneider 6. MS 2312 Ramon Llull: Melakhah Ketzarah. Translation by Pinchas Zvi b. Nethanel of Llull’s Ars Brevis. 41 ff. 1476. Ashkenazic script. MS Steinschneider 12. MS 2313 Sod ha-Sodot. Translation of Secretum secretorum attributed to Aristotle. 20 ff. Late 15th–early 16th cent. Italian script. MS Steinschneider 16 (formerly Bisliches 77, listed in Ha-Palit, Berlin 1850). MS 2314 Two treatises on logic by al-Farabi and Petrus Hispanus. Different manuscripts bound together. Folio 13r is from another manuscript of Joseph Gikatilla’s Sefer ha-Niqqud. 30 ff. 15th cent. Italian scripts. MS Steinschneider 22. MS 2360 Epistle sent by David b. Jacob Kalonymos to his son ayyim on the soul in the writings of Averroes. 18 ff. South Italy. 1484. Sephardic cursive script (autograph). MS Steinschneider 1. MS 2361 Iggeret ha-Petirah, Hebrew translation by Hayyim b. Judah ibn Vivas of Risalat al-wafâx by Ibn Bajja (Avenpace). 22 ff. 19th cent. Ashkenazic scripts. Probably copied for Steinschneider from the Paris and Leipzig manuscripts. MS Steinschneider 2. MS 2362 Collection of philosophical works mostly by Thomas Aquinas and Judah Romano. 95 ff. 15th cent. Italian script. MS Steinschneider 5. MS 2374 Collection of works on philosophy, legends and belles lettres. 152 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic script. MS Steinschneider 11. 316 benjamin richler

MS 2637 -Ash .שצול. Collection of works on astronomy. [46] ff. copied in 1564 kenazic script. MS Steinschneider 14. MS 2648 Collection of works on astrology. 19 ff. 15th cent. Ashkenazic script. Former provenance: Moise Soave. MS Steinschneider 21. MS. 2649 Medical treatise in Arabic in Hebrew characters by Abu’l Munâ ibn abi Nar ibn Haffâ al-Kuhin. Cf. Arab. Lit. §176. 132 ff. 15th cent. Oriental script. Formerly MS Moses Wilhelm Shapira. MS Stein- schneider 35. MS 2669 Hanhagat ha-Dever. Treatise on the plague by Valescus de Taranta in a Hebrew translation. Possibly copied from the Constantinople edition (ca. 1510). Followed by a compilation of amulets and medical recipes. 45 ff. 17–18th cent. Karaite-Byzantine script. MS Steinschneider 38. MS 2670 Collection of medical treatises. 214 ff. 15th cent. Provençal script. For- mer provenance: Moise Soave. MS Steinschneider 31. MS 2707 Argoza. Avicenna’s Canticum medicinae with a commentary by Averroes. Translated by Solomon b. Abraham ibn Daud, who also supplied a commentary. Incomplete. Cf. a complete copy in St. Petersburg, Institute of Oriental Manuscripts MS B 75. 14 ff. 15th cent. Sephardic script. MS Steinschneider 37. MS 2721 Moses Rieti’s commentary on the Aphorisms by Hippocrates. Incom- plete. 24 ff. 19th cent. Rashi-type script. MS Steinschneider 24. MS 2742 Collection of medical treatises. 151 ff. Viterbo (Italy). 1436. Italian script. Bought from Moses Wilhelm Shapira in 1883. MS Stein- schneider 27. MS 2882 Ma’ase Efod by Profet (Isaac b. Moses) Duran. 263 ff. Bologna (Italy). 1456. Italian script. MS Steinschneider 13. steinschneider’s manuscripts 317

MS 3742 Tale of Joseph della Reina. 7 ff. Copied in Amsterdam in 1813 by Abraham Lippmanns from a manuscript copied for Solomon Dubno in 1786 from another manuscript copied in 1766. MS 4391 Piyyutim. Copies of piyyutim from the Abraham Firkovich collection, transcribed by Firkovich himself, together with a few original piyyutim from the collection. [135] ff. 14–19th cent. Different scripts. MS Steinschneider 19. MS 4879 Collection of liturgies and midrashim in Hebrew and Arabic. 118 ff. 18–19th cent. Yemenite script. MS Steinschneider 33. MS 8117 Collection of kabbalistic, astrological and magical texts. 139 ff. 16th cent. Italian script. MS Steinschneider 29. MS 8571 Two edicts of Ahasuerus found in a manuscript at the end of a printed book. 2 ff. Amsterdam? 1850? Rashi-type script.

Concordance to Steinschneider Numbers 1–39

Steinschneider no. Present call-number

1 NY JTS MS 2360 2 NY JTS MS 2361 3 NY JTS MS 2276 4 Berlin Or. Qu. 831 5 NY JTS MS 2362 6 NY JTS MS 2311 7 NY JTS MS 1363 8 Berlin Or. Qu. 832 9 Berlin Or. Oct. 463 10 Berlin Or. Fol. 1618 11 NY JTS MS 2374 12 NY JTS MS 2312 13 NY JTS MS 2882 14 NY JTS MS 2637 15 Berlin Or. Qu. 833 318 benjamin richler

(Cont.) Steinschneider no. Present call-number

16 NY JTS MS 2313 17 Berlin Or. Qu. 808 18 Berlin Or. Qu. 834 19 NY JTS MS 4391 20 NY JTS MS 2283 21 NY JTS MS 2648 22 NY JTS MS 2314 23 MS Monteﬁore 439 or MS Berlin Or. Qu. 809 (cf. footnotes 22–23) 24 NY JTS MS 2721 25 Berlin Or. Qu. 835 26 Berlin Or. Qu. 810 27 NY JTS MS 2742 28 NY JTS MS 1895 29 NY JTS MS 8117 30 Berlin Or. Qu. 836 31 NY JTS MS 2670 32 Berlin Or. Oct. 464 33 NY JTS MS 4879 34 Berlin Or. Oct. 549 35 NY JTS MS 2649 36 Could not be located 37 NY JTS MS 2707 38 NY JTS MS 2669 39 NY JTS MS 2289 15. ARON FREIMANN AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF JEWISH BIBLIOGRAPHY IN GERMANY IN THE 20TH CENTURY

Rachel Heuberger

In the Preface of Die Geschichtsliteratur der Juden in Druckwerken und Hand- schriften (1905), the last publication to be released in his lifetime, Moritz Steinschneider praised the work of his colleague and collaborator Aron Freimann. He wrote: When by Easter 1904 I had not received a message about the resump- tion of the work, Herr Dr. A. Freimann in Frankfurt a.M. took over the completion of the section to my satisfaction, although we had not had the opportunity to discuss in detail the form of editing my very condensed records. Already in the summer of that year he was able to send me a large part of the manuscript; but because of illness I was prevented from checking it until he had nearly completed his task, and more than completed it. He went beyond the dry bibliography and added materials from spheres that until then had been considered in exceptional cases only, like poetic outpourings about accusations and other calami- ties (kinot, selichot et al.), which frequently constitute the only source in history, however. Furthermore he enhanced the notes with quotations from the newest periodical literature that had remained totally unknown to me. . . Therefore I felt compelled to follow his disposition substantively and to make only slight changes in style, namely abridgements according to the previous form.1

1 Geschichtsliteratur, pp. X–XI: “Als mir bis Ostern 1904 eine Mitteilung über die Wiederaufnahme der Arbeit nicht zugekommen war, übernahm zu meiner Befriedi- gung Herr Dr. A. Freimann in Frankfurt a.M. die Vollendung der Abteilung, ohne dass wir die Gelegenheit gehabt hätten, uns über die Form der Bearbeitung meiner sehr kurz gefassten Nachweisungen im Einzelnen zu verständigen. Er war schon in der Lage, im Sommer jenes Jahres mir einen grossen Teil des Manuskriptes zuzu- senden; ich war aber durch Krankheit verhindert, es zu prüfen, bis er beinahe seine Aufgabe erfüllt und mehr als erfüllt hatte. Er ging nämlich über die trockene Biblio- graphie hinaus und zog auch Stoffe aus Kreisen herbei, die bisher nur ausnahmsweise berücksichtigt waren, namentlich poetische Ergüsse über Beschuldigungen und son- stige Calamitäten (Kinnot, Selichot u. dgl.), welche allerdings für die Geschichte häuﬁg die einzige Quelle sind. Ausserdem versah er die Mitteilungen mit Citaten aus der neuesten periodischen Literatur, die mir ganz unbekannt geblieben war. . . Ich sah mich also veranlasst, materiell seiner Disposition zu folgen und nur leichte stilistische 320 rachel heuberger

Steinschneider, at that time the indisputable authority in the Wissen- schaft des Judentums, was known for placing high demands on scholarly work, exempliﬁed by his sharp and critical reactions to many publications. Therefore this restrained and concise phrasing expressed deep gratitude and great appreciation shown to only a few of his contemporaries. In thus approving the quality of Freimann’s work on his manuscript and voicing his complete satisfaction, Steinschneider accepted him as an equal colleague. First of all Freimann had carried out all the work independently, but by supplementing the original short notes with additions from related disciplines and new citations from modern literature, he had improved the quality of the manuscript. Thus his collaboration went far beyond the task of proofreading the manuscript. By altering the structure and content of the records, a modiﬁ- cation that was accepted by Steinschneider, he substantially upgraded the quality of the work. His numerous new entries in the book are marked with the abbreviation “Fr.”.2 For many years Aron Freimann had worked in close contact with Moritz Steinschneider, who had regularly published articles in the Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie (ZHB). Both were interested in the same themes of Jewish bibliography and collaborated intensively on the same topics.3 Thus in 1898 Freimann published in the ZHB an amendment and correction to Steinschneider’s Bibliographisches Hand- buch der theoretischen und praktischen Literatur der hebräischen Sprache.4 In 1904 Freimann published additions to an article Steinschneider had written in 1896 containing the bibliography of the literature on the Jewish oath ( Judeneid). The same year Steinschneider responded to Frei- mann’s article by supplementing it with even more items.5

Änderungen, namentlich der vorangegangenen Form entsprechende Kürzungen vorzunehmen.” [Transl. R.H.] 2 Geschichtsliteratur, p. XI. 3 The expression “Jewish bibliography” is used as the overall term for the literature of Hebraica (in Hebrew letters) and Judaica (non-Hebrew letters), according to the standard work by Shimeon Brisman, Jewish Research Literature. Vol. 1: A History and Guide to Judaic Bibliography (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1977), pp. IX–XI. 4 Aron Freimann, “Zusätze und Berichtigungen zu Steinschneiders Handbuch,” Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie 3 (1898): 123–124. 5 M. Steinschneider, “Literatur des Judeneides,” Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie 1 (1896): 17–22; A. Freimann, “Judeneid. Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen zur Literatur ZfHB 1,” Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie 8 (1904): 52–53; M. Steinschneider, “Judeneid. Nachtrag,” Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie 8 (1904): 150. the development of jewish bibliography in germany 321

Besides completing and editing the above-mentioned Die Geschichts- literatur der Juden, the result of a series of lectures that Moritz Stein- schneider had given repeatedly under the title Die historische Literatur der Juden at the Veitel-Heine-Ephraim’sche Lehranstalt since 1865, Aron Freimann was also responsible for publishing posthumously, 1914–1915, the material Steinschneider had gathered for a bibliography on Jewish physicians.6 With some of his publications, like the ZHB, Freimann directly continued Steinschneider’s work of creating a comprehensive Hebrew bibliography, at the same time broadening the focus and transforming the role of the bibliographer according to the development of the Wissenschaft des Judentums from the 19th to the 20th century.

The Biography of Aron Freimann

Born on August 5, 1871, in Filehne, Posen, as the son of Rabbi Dr. Israel Meir Freimann (1830–1884), Aron Freimann was the grandson of the famous Chief Rabbi of Altona Jakob Ettlinger (1798– 1871), the founder of modern Orthodoxy in Germany.7 He grew up in Ostrowo, Posen, in an Orthodox home and in a Jewish community that, like many Jewish towns in Posen, retained its traditional character. At the Royal Friedrich-Wilhelm University in Berlin he did Ori- ental studies, history and classical philology, at the same time being enrolled as a student in the Orthodox rabbinical seminary of Rabbi Dr. Esriel Hildesheimer (1820–1899). There he became one of the favourite students of Dr. Abraham Berliner (1833–1915), lecturer in Jewish history and literature, whose private library he catalogued in 1895.8 In 1896 he completed his studies with a doctoral thesis.9

6 A. Freimann, “Vorbemerkung [zu Moritz Steinschneider: Jüdische Ärzte],” Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie 17 (1914): 63–96, 121–167; 18 (1915): 25–57, here 17 (1914): 63: “When, after his passing, his index-card box was handed over to me, I wanted to continue Steinschneider’s notes, complete the missing physicians if possible and publish it in Steinschneider’s ‘Gesammelten Schriften.’” [Transl. R.H.] 7 For a comprehensive account of his life and works, see: Rachel Heuberger, Aron Freimann und die Wissenschaft des Judentums (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 2004). 8 A. Freimann, Katalog der Dr. A. Berlinerischen Bibliothek [MS], 1895. 9 A. Freimann, Die Isagoge des Porphyrius in den syrischen Übersetzungen (Berlin, 1897), PhD. diss., University of Erlangen. 322 rachel heuberger

Recommended by Berliner, Freimann took up his work at the Frankfurt Library as assistant librarian (Wissenschaftliche Hülfskraft) in January 1898, and on November 1, 1904, he was appointed one of the librarians of the University Library, a position he held until his dismissal by the Nazis in 1933. For 35 years he was in charge of the Hebraica and Judaica department, which comprised 11,118 books at the outset of his work, growing over the years into a collection of about 40,000 books, 56 incunabula, 400 Hebrew manuscripts and more than 4000 manuscript fragments from the Cairo Genizah. In 1919 Freimann was awarded the title of professor by the Prussian Minister of Culture for his dedicated work and achievement, building up the “richest collection of the European continent.”10 In contrast to Steinschneider, Freimann remained an Orthodox Jew throughout his life and played an active role in communal life and politics. From 1905 he was married to his cousin Therese Horovitz, daughter of the conservative rabbi of the Frankfurt Jewish community, Markus Horovitz, and, like himself, a grandchild of the famous Rabbi Jakob Ettlinger.11 Freimann served as board member (Synago- genvorsteher) of the conservative Boerneplatz-Synagoge and in 1918 was elected as a representative of the conservative party to the Coun- cil of the Israelitische Gemeinde. From 1928 he served as the vice president of the Jewish community board. In 1937 he was elected to be a member of the board of the Confederation of German Jewry (Präsidialausschuss der Reichsvertretung der Deutschen Juden), founded in 1933 by Rabbi Dr. Leo Baeck, where he was the only representative of German Orthodoxy. In 1938 and 1939 he functioned as the last president of Frankfurt’s Jewish community before being forced to sign the ﬁnal liquidation of the community’s autonomy after the November 1938 pogrom, when the Israelitische Gemeinde and the Israelitische Religionsgesellschaft were forced by the Gestapo to unite into one Jüdische Gemeinde. He favored Zionist settlement in Pales- tine, supported the founding of the Hebrew University and was an elected member of the board of its Institute for Jewish Studies (Makhon le-madda{e ha-Yahadut).

10 Alexander Marx & Boaz Cohen, “Necrology. Aron Freimann,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 17 (1947–48): XXIII. 11 A. Freiman, Aus dem Stammbaum der Familien Ettlinger—Freimann—Horovitz (Berlin: Marx [Privatdruck], 1925). the development of jewish bibliography in germany 323

On March 30, 1933, Freimann was dismissed from his library post, when the newly elected Nazi mayor of Frankfurt, Friedrich Krebs, enforced racial regulations in public institutions and excluded Jews from the civil service even before the ofﬁcial enactment on April 7, 1933, of the Gesetz zur Wiederherstellung des Berufsbeamtentums (Law on the Reinstitution of the Civil Service).12 In 1931 the Soncino Society was planning to publish a Festschrift in his honor to mark his 60th birthday. Due to misfortunes, however, the Festschrift was released only in 1937, but bears the publication date of 1935 and is adorned with a special dedication by the late Chaim Nachman Bialik (1873–1934).13 A full bibliography of his writings up to 1931 is found at the beginning of the Festschrift, compiled by his student and later colleague Hanna Emmrich, containing about 400 articles, essays and book reviews.14 With the help of Eugène Tisserant, Chief Librarian of the Vatican, where he had catalogued the Hebrew manuscripts for many years, and his colleague and close friend Alexander Marx, librarian at the Jewish Theological Seminary, Freimann and his wife managed to emigrate from Frankfurt in April 1939. After a short stopover in London, they arrived in New York in May. There he joined the staff at the New York Public Library as “Consultant in Bibliography” and gave lectures at the Jewish Theological Seminary. He became the oldest foreign scholar to be funded by the Emergency Committee in Aid of Displaced Foreign Scholars, on the grounds that he was “the greatest living authority in the realm of Jewish Bibliography.”15 After the Sec- ond World War he was a prominent member of the Commission on

12 Uwe-Dietrich Adam, Judenpolitik im Dritten Reich (Düsseldorf: Droste, 1972). The “Gesetz zur Wiederherstellung des Berufsbeamtentums” (Law on the Reinstitution of the Civil Service) was enacted in the Reich only a week later, on April 7, 1933; this ﬁrst law to contain the so-called “Arierparagraph” excluded Jews from the civil service. 13 Festschrift für Aron Freimann zum 60. Geburtstage, eds. Alexander Marx & Hermann Meyer (Berlin: Soncino-Gesellschaft der Freunde des jüdischen Buches e.V., 1935). A review of the Festschrift appeared in: Monatsschrift für die Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums 81 (1937): 449–450. 14 Hanna Emmrich, “Aron Freimann Bibliographie,” in Festschrift für Aron Freimann zum 60. Geburtstage, pp. 5–16. For the bibliography after 1931, see R. Heuberger, Aron Freimann und die Wissenschaft des Judentums, pp. 283–285. 15 New York Public Library, Archive, Emergency Committee in Aid of Displaced Foreign Scholars, Box No. 9, Letter from Joshua Bloch, July 25, 1939. See also: Stephen Duggan & Betty Drury, The Rescue of Science and Learning: The Story of the Emer- gency Committee in Aid of Displaced Foreign Scholars (New York: Macmillan, 1948). 324 rachel heuberger

European Jewish Cultural Reconstruction ( JCR), founded in 1944 to plan the transfer and restitution of Jewish cultural treasures in former Nazi-occupied Europe. He passed away on June 6, 1948. Freimann defined himself first and foremost as a bibliographer and librarian and, unlike other scholars of the Wissenschaft des Judentums, who engaged in bibliographical research as a precondition or result of their various studies, “did not accidentally stumble into the field of Hebrew bibliography nor did he, like some bibliographers, blaze for himself a path into it while wandering and involving himself into other areas of Jewish scholarship,” as his personal friend, the Orien- talist Prof. Shelomo Dov Goitein (1900–1985), has recorded. “Ever since his early days he decided to dedicate his life to the Hebrew book and to all that is related to it; he never strayed from that determination throughout the long and fruitful years of his scholarly work.”16 In this respect Freimann differed from his teacher and model Steinschneider, “the Father of Hebrew Bibliography,” who created his monumental bibliographical work while focusing on the study of the various processes of cultural transfer in the Middle Ages.17 Already during his studies at the Rabbinerseminar in Berlin, Freimann recognized the importance of bibliographical research as the foundation of the Wissen- schaft des Judentums and decided deliberately to follow this path, thus contributing to strengthening the future profile of bibliographical studies as a scientific discipline. His position as librarian in Frankfurt gave him the opportunity to delve full-time and professionally into Jewish bibliography. In his tribute in the Introduction to Freimann’s Union Catalogue of Hebrew Manuscripts, Goitein also recalled the story Freimann had told him more than once, about how he had explained his desire to become a bibliographer to his mother: While still a student at the University of Berlin (where he also attended the Hildesheimer Seminary), he once declared to his old mother, during a holiday visit home, that he had no intention of becoming a rabbi or entering one of those typically “Jewish” professions; his one and only

16 Shelomo Dov Goitein, “Aron Freimann. A Personal Tribute,” in A. Freimann, Union Catalogue of Hebrew Manuscripts and their Location (New York: American Academy for Jewish Research, 1964–1973), vol. 1 (1973), pp. VII–X, here p. VII. 17 Ismar Elbogen, “Moritz Steinschneider, der Vater der Hebräischen Bibliographie,” Soncino-Blätter 1 (1925/26): 155–158; auch Sonderdruck (Leipzig, 1926) (Gabe der Soncino-Gesellschaft). the development of jewish bibliography in germany 325

desire was to be a bibliographer. The old lady, who had no idea what kind of occupation this was, asked him for an explanation. After listen- ing to his enthusiastic outpouring, she mused for a while, then said: “If I understood the matter correctly, a bibliographer is like a road sign: people follow its directions, but the sign itself remains in the same place.” When relating the story (he repeated it to me more than once), Freimann wanted to emphasize his belief that the bibliographer must be content with his own role and, while dealing with a book, not be carried away by the desire to expand on the subject-matter itself. Therefore Goitein concluded: “Freimann’s bibliographical performance was a clean-cut job, strictly professional, carefully deﬁned; hence the brevity and self-imposed conciseness of his works, in contrast to the long-winded expositions of, say, a Steinschneider, the father of Hebrew bibliography.”18 Time and again Freimann would repeat his basic principle: “You don’t have to be knowledgeable on the subject-matter in question, but you must know where it can be found.”19 In reality, however, this motto was more than an understatement, for by no means did it give the true measure of his work. As the testimonies of his colleagues and the list of publications show, his knowledge was in no way conﬁned to formal bibliographical descriptions of the books, but he knew their content and importance in detail and “travelled along with the book and its readers.” His main interest was the development of the Wissen- schaft des Judentums on the basis of an accurate Jewish bibliography, an aim that he pursued with great vigor by compiling numerous bibliographies of many varieties of Jewish, Hebrew and Yiddish literature. Like Steinschneider, Freimann engaged in all types of Hebraica and Judaica bibliography and covered the whole spectrum of the Wissen- schaft des Judentums, including bio-bibliographical works, bibliographical periodicals, works on Hebrew manuscripts, incunabula or “cradle- prints,” catalogues of libraries and union catalogues. In the following only those of his numerous works that have methodological model character or are the foundation for projects of information transfer in libraries today can be presented as outstanding examples of his understanding of the needs of Jewish Studies as a developing scholarly discipline and as proof of his innovative thinking.

18 Sh. D. Goitein, “Aron Freimann. A Personal Tribute,” p. IX. 19 Ibid. 326 rachel heuberger

Bibliographical Periodicals

In assuming the task of editing the Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie (ZHB) Freimann followed in Steinschneider’s footsteps and recognized, like his predecessor, the indispensable necessity of a bibliographical periodical for the new discipline Wissenschaft des Judentums. In 1858 Steinschneider had founded the periodical Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibli- ographie—Hamaskir. Blätter für neuere und ältere Literatur des Judenthums (HB), editing it with some interruptions until 1881–82, and thus initiating the ﬁrst bibliographical periodical devoted entirely to Jewish books.20 In 1896 the Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie (ZHB) was founded anew by Heinrich Brody (1868–1942), and in 1900 Freimann, who had contributed with reviews from the beginning, joined as editor.21 In the programmatic introduction published by Brody, the ZHB was presented deliberately as a continuation of Steinschneider’s HB and therefore adopted the nearly identical name of its prototype. “Our ‘periodical’ should be, like the Heb. Bibliography earlier, as whose continuation it wants to be seen, a ‘repertory’ of the literature relating to Judaism and its sources, for both scholarship and the book trade, and thus become the central organ for all of Jewish literature.”22 And Stein- schneider remained one of its contributors until his death. In title, structure and themes a sequel to Steinschneider’s publication, it nevertheless differed essentially in style and content. Thus, like the HB, the bimonthly ZHB was divided into two major sections, each one subdivided in a similar order as its predecessor. But the changes were crucial. German was its predominant language and the book reviews were written objectively, without the ﬁerce personal attacks that Steinschneider had sometimes made. When discussing in his program the character of a bibliography, Steinschneider had stated that bibliographical descriptions had to be formulated as neutrally and as

20 Sh. Brisman, A History and Guide to Judaic Bibliography, pp. 139–143. 21 A. Freimann, “Adolf Frankl-Grün: Geschichte der Juden in Kremsier mit Rücksicht auf die Nachbargemeinden nach Original-Urkunden dargestellt. Vol. 1, Breslau: Schottlaender, 1896,” Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie 1 (1896): 156–175; 4 (1900): 8–9. 22 Heinrich Brody, “Programm.” Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie 1 (1896): 1–2: “Unsere ‘Zeitschrift’ soll, wie früher die Hebr. Bibliographie, als deren Fortsetzung sie angesehen werden will, ein ‘Repertorium’ über die das Judenthum und seine Quellen betreffende Literatur, sowohl für die Wissenschaft als für den Buchhandel sein, und so zum Central-Organ für die gesamte jüdische Literatur werden.” [Transl. R.H.] the development of jewish bibliography in germany 327 free of evaluation as possible and had defined his point of view toward contemporary literature as being not a critical one, but one of report reference; yet he severely criticized all new publications—including sometimes their authors.23 The most striking expression of the new editorial spirit was the complete change in attitude toward Zionism, which Steinschneider had rejected and vigorously attacked in HB. The new periodical paid much more favorable attention to publications on modern Hebrew literature and language as well as on the settlements in the Holy Land. Therefore, as much as the ZHB continued Stein- schneider’s work, it also signalized its adaptation to the different views and assumptions that were shaping Jewish research at the beginning of the 20th century. For the next 22 years Freimann remained the editor of this journal, first in cooperation with Heinrich Brody and after 1905 as the sole one in charge. For many years the ZHB fulfilled its function as the only up-to-date bibliographical periodical for the Wissenschaft des Judentums. With his organizational skills Freimann managed to secure its publication even in the difficult years during and after the First World War, until it finally ceased to appear due to the economic crises in the early 1920s. Freimann published numerous reviews and bibliographical studies in the ZHB that won him a reputation as an expert par excellence in the field of Jewish bibliography, causing Alexander Marx and Boaz Cohen to proclaim that “after Steinschneider’s death, he was gradually recognized as the greatest Jewish bibliographer.”24

Union Catalogue of Hebrew Manuscripts

Early on Freimann recognized the signiﬁcance of supra-regional central catalogues—the so-called “union catalogues,” comparable to modern merged-catalogue systems like WorldCat, KVK in Germany or COPAC in Britain that supply information about holdings from more than one library. He was the ﬁrst to compile union catalogues for different text-types of Hebrew bibliography, the outstanding example being his Union Catalogue of Hebrew Manuscripts.

23 M. Steinschneider, “Programm,” HB 1 (1858): 1. For numerous examples of his personal attacks, see Sh. Brisman, A History and Guide to Judaic Bibliography, pp. 296–297. 24 A. Marx & B. Cohen, “Necrology,” p. XXIV. 328 rachel heuberger

During his pre-emigration years Freimann inspected Hebrew manuscripts in libraries all over Europe, not only in famous collections like those of the Bibliotheca Bodleiana in Oxford or the Bibliotheca Apos- tolica Vaticana, but also in small unknown libraries in Switzerland, Germany and elsewhere, whereby he created a collection of thousands of handwritten cards with detailed bibliographical data about these manuscripts. When he emigrated to the United States, he succeeded in taking these cards with him. Thanks to the continuous effort and commitment of Salo W. Baron, President of the American Academy for Jewish Research, these handwritten cards were published as a photo- static copy in 1964 under the title Union Catalogue of Hebrew Manuscripts. In 1973 an index–volume enabling easier access to the titles followed, compiled by Menachem Schmelzer, director of the Library of the Jew- ish Theological Seminary.25 The original cards were part of the collection destroyed in the great fire in the Jewish Theological Seminary in 1966, so that today the printed copies of the Union Catalogue are left as a unique testament—the only source of information for thousands of Hebrew manuscripts that had once existed in Europe. By creating this catalogue, Freimann pioneered in the task now undertaken by the Institute of Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts at the Israel National Library in Jerusalem, using modern techniques to establish an archive of all existing Hebrew manuscripts worldwide in a microfilm version. Freimann’s Union Catalogue was much criticized by some experts for certain shortcomings: the quality of the bibliographical entries, which contain only basic information, as well as the difficulties in decipher- ing Freimann’s handwriting and understanding his abbreviations and symbols.26 Well aware of the problems in using the photocopied handwritten card-catalogue and bearing in mind the goals that had motivated the establishment of the Jerusalem Institute, Salo W. Baron nevertheless stressed the value of the catalogue:

25 A. Freimann, Union Catalogue of Hebrew Manuscripts and their location, 2 vols. (New York: American Academy for Jewish Research, 1964–1973). Interestingly, the ﬁrst part, published in 1964, was numbered Vol. 2; Menachem Schmelzer’s index appeared nine years later in 1973 and was counted Vol. 1 on the title page. 26 Benjamin Richler, Hebrew Manuscripts. A Treasured Legacy (Cleveland & Jerusalem: Ofeq Institute, 1990), p. 103. Sh. Brisman, A History and Guide to Judaic Bibliography, p. 254. the development of jewish bibliography in germany 329

We took pains to inspect this large card collection and found that, despite its obvious deficiencies, it was a significant contribution to Jewish learning . . . In some respects the catalog will retain its permanent value even after the much larger project, parts of which are now in progress at the National Library in Jerusalem, will have been completed.27 As numerous manuscripts described by Freimann were destroyed during the Second World War, his Union Catalogue, with its priceless information about these texts, otherwise gone forever, provides details about their existence and could be helpful in finding lost ones. Baron saw additional value in the possible use of Freimann’s records by institutions, as the former legal owners of missing manuscripts, or by their heirs to prove their claims. Moreover, Benjamin Richler, who published a critical appraisal of the catalogue, has pointed out a special feature of Freimann’s work that enhances its value as a modern bibliographical tool in cataloguing Hebrew manuscripts. Because Freimann had frequently cited existing printed catalogues of local manu script- collections as his sources, his notes could be used as an index for such collections, as was the case with the Guenzburg collection of Hebrew manuscripts in the Russian State Library in Moscow.

Union Catalogue of Hebrew Incunabula

Freimann applied the same innovative approach when dealing with early Hebrew printing: by publishing the facsimiles of leaves of Hebrew incunabula he created an essential, hitherto overlooked, tool for Hebrew scholarship. Not only was he the ﬁrst to recall to attention the long-neglected topic of Hebrew “cradle-books” in a lecture “Über hebräische Inkunabeln” to the librarians’ division of the 46th assembly of German Philologists and Educators in Strasbourg in 1901 that was printed the following year in the prestigious German periodical for librarians.28 For this he was praised for publishing “the ﬁrst list of

27 Salo W. Baron, “Introduction,” in A. Freimann, Union Catalogue of Hebrew Manu- scripts and their Location, vol. 1 (1973), pp. III–V, here: p. IV. 28 A. Freimann. “Über hebräische Inkunabeln. Vortrag gehalten in der biblio- thekarischen Sektion der 46. Versammlung deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner zu Straßburg im Elsaß am 3. Oktober 1901,” Centralblatt für Bibliothekswesen 19 (1902), Nr. 3: 108–117. 330 rachel heuberger

Hebrew Incunabula since de Rossi.”29 He was also the ﬁrst to initiate the systematic publication of facsimile pages of Hebrew cradle-books from 1924 onward. In cooperation with Moses Marx he edited and published in the years 1924–1931 the work in eight portfolios under the title Thesaurus Typographiae Hebraicae Saeculi XV.30 The Thesaurus of Hebrew Printing during the Fifteenth Century contains 332 plates of facsimiles of selected pages of all known Hebrew incunabula, including reproductions of complete leaves. It provides a survey of all the different types and sizes of letters as well as ornamental blocks, diagrams, initials, illustrations etc. found in these printings.31 In his ﬁrst publication in 1902 Freimann explained his motives: The Hebrew cradle-books have suffered the fate of their composers and publishers, they are scattered around the world. In the public libraries of Parma, Oxford, London, Berlin, Munich, Frankfurt and St. Petersburg single copies are to be found. To bring them together in one place is today in the realm of impossibility, so at least it should be possible in the future to capture them photographically and to pass on the knowledge of their texture to future generations.32

29 A. Marx & B. Cohen, “Necrology,” p. XXV. De Rossi refers to the Italian Christian Hebraist Giovanni Bernardo de Rossi (1742–1831). 30 Thesaurus typographiae hebraicae saeculi XV. Ha-otsar li-melekhet ha-defus ha-{ivri ha- rishonah ba-me’ah ha-15 (Berlin-Wilmersdorf: Marx, 1924–1931). Moses Marx was actually the work’s co-editor, as Freimann documented in A. Freimann, ”Die hebräischen Inkunabeln der Druckereien in Spanien und Portugal,” pp. 203–206 in Gutenberg-Festschrift zur Feier des 25–jährigen Bestehens des Gutenbergmuseums in Mainz, ed. Aloys Ruppel (Mainz: Verlag der Gutenberg-Gesellschaft, 1925), here p. 203. Moses Marx, however, insisted that his name not be mentioned; see: Alexander Marx, “The Literature of Hebrew Incunabula,” in idem, Studies in Jewish History and Booklore (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1944), p. 287. 31 Disagreeing with de Rossi’s judgment, Steinschneider, Goldschmidt and Yaari Freimann identiﬁed the print of Jacob ben Asher’s Arba{ah Turim as a cradle-book that had appeared in Constantinople in 1494, and reproduced its pages as No. C 1:1. Alexander und Moses Marx proposed 1493 as the printing date; see A. Marx, “The Literature of Hebrew Incunabula,” p. 288. Also see Adrian K. Offenberg, “The First Printed Book Produced in Constantinople,” Studia Rosenthaliana 3 (1969): 96–112. 32 A. Freimann, “Über hebräische Inkunabeln,” Centralblatt für Bibliothekswesen 19 (1902): 113: “Die hebräischen Frühdrucke haben das Schicksal ihrer Verfasser und ihrer Verfertiger erlitten, sie sind über den Erdball zerstreut. In den öffentlichen Bibliotheken zu Parma, Oxford, London, Berlin, München, Frankfurt und St. Petersburg sind einzelne von ihnen zu ﬁnden. Sie alle an einen Ort zusammenzubringen, liegt heute außer dem Bereiche der Möglichkeiten, so möge es wenigstens in Zukunft vergönnt sein, sie im Bilde festzuhalten und ihre genauere Beschaffenheit der Nachwelt zu überliefern.” [Transl. R.H.] the development of jewish bibliography in germany 331

With conventional techniques Freimann compiled a union catalogue of Hebrew incunabula containing sample pages, as is standard for online catalogues of historical prints today, which provide digitized images of characteristic pages in addition to bibliographical records. Thus he was a pioneer in this branch of Jewish bibliography, anticipating modern developments in international databases on 15th-century European printing. Even today the Thesaurus remains an indispensable reference work for the bibliographer and research student working in the ﬁeld of early Hebrew printing and was therefore re-issued 1967–1969 in Jerusalem.33 The reprint also contains all the incunabula titles that were originally scheduled to appear in the last two—but then unpublished—parts of the Thesaurus as well as those incunabula that meanwhile had been identiﬁed as 16th-century products. In addition, Freimann published many articles on single Hebrew cradle-books, a list of those printed in Spain and Portugal (1925) and a Gazetteer of Hebrew Printing, listing all Hebrew printing sites (1945, 2nd ed. 1946).34

Promoting the Organization of Wissenschaft des Judentums

In contrast to Steinschneider, Freimann was very active in the organization of the Wissenschaft des Judentums and had a decisive inﬂuence in carrying out certain major projects in the realms of German-Jewish historiography and Hebrew manuscript printing and in founding the Soncino Society of Friends of Jewish Books (1924). Not only was this the fruit of his personal abilities, but it also reﬂected the changing nature of the Wissenschaft des Judentums in the early 20th century: going beyond its initial stage and developing into a growing academic discipline in need

33 Thesaurus typographiae hebraicae saeculi XV. Ha-otsar li-melekhet ha-defus ha-‘ivri ha-rishona ba-me’ah ha-15. Hebrew Printing during the Fifteenth Century. A Facsimile Reproduction of the Edition 1924–1931, ed. and with introductions and additions by Israel Mehlmann and Hermann Meyer ( Jerusalem: Universitas Booksellers, 1967–1969). 34 A. Freimann, “Die hebräischen Inkunabeln der Druckereien in Spanien und Portugal,” in Gutenberg-Festschrift zur Feier des 25–jährigen Bestehens des Gutenbergmuseums in Mainz, ed. Aloys Ruppel (Mainz: Verlag der Gutenberg-Gesellschaft, 1925), pp. 203–206. A. Freimann, “A Gazetteer of Hebrew Printing,” Bulletin of the New York Public Library 49 (1945): 355–390, 456–468, 530–540, 913–939; the 2nd ed. was published as A. Freimann, A Gazetteer of Hebrew Printing. With a Foreword by Joshua Bloch. Reprinted with revisions and additions from the Bulletin of the New York Public Library of May, June, July, December 1945 (New York: The New York Public Library, 1946). 332 rachel heuberger of cooperation and exchange platforms between scholars. Freimann’s success was due to the huge network which he had been instrumental in establishing and in which he held a central position. Through his numerous visits to European libraries and personal contacts with far- ﬂung colleagues he established a close relationship with many of them. He was in daily correspondence with Alexander Marx in New York and Samuel Poznański in Warsaw. His presence is felt in the large number of Festschriften he edited or to which he submitted an article; testimony, too, to the numerous and various contacts he had with scholars from all the different streams of Judaism. Among them are Festschriften for Abraham Berliner, Abraham (Albert) Harkavy (1835–1919), Markus Brann (1849–1920), David Simonsen (1853–1932), Samuel Poznański, Heinrich Brody, Nachum Sokolow (1859–1936), Hermann Cohen (1842–1918), David Zvi Hoffman (1843–1921), Jakob Guttmann (1849–1919), Abraham Salomon Freidus (1867–1923), Alexander Marx and Louis Ginzberg (1873–1953)—to name just a few. For the as yet non-existent medium of scholarly exchange through congresses and periodicals personal contacts were vital. With Shmuel Yosef Agnon (1888–1970) and the above-mentioned Chaim Nachman Bialik he cultivated a lifelong friendship, dating back to the years these writers had spent in Bad Homburg, near Frankfurt, in the early 1920s.35 Despite being a German Jew from Posen, he spoke and wrote modern Hebrew, an exception at that time, and thus became a bridge between German Jews and “Ostjuden” in the Renais- sance of Hebrew and Cultural Zionism in the Weimar Republic.

Germania Judaica

One of Freimann’s two major projects still thriving today in Germany and Israel is the Germania Judaica, the historical-geographical encyclopaedia for the history of the Jews in the medieval Holy Roman Empire (i.e., Central Europe). Initiated by the Society for the Advancement of the Science of Judaism (Gesellschaft zur Förderung der Wissenschaft des Judentums) in 1903, this research project set out to publish an alphabetical register of all the locations in the medieval Reich where Jewish

35 Dan Laor, S.Y. Agnon. A Biography [Heb.] (Tel-Aviv: Schocken, 1998), p. 147. the development of jewish bibliography in germany 333 communities had existed and was based on the systematic collection and analysis of the documents of the history of the Jews in the imperial German-language areas. Moritz Steinschneider was asked to head the commission responsible for developing the concrete working plan, but declined because of his advanced age. He did participate in the preparations, however, and provided the commission with relevant material from his bibliographical works. In 1905 the editing of the encyclopaedia was assigned to Markus Brann and Aron Freimann. Due to administrative and financial difficulties and the outbreak of the First World War, part of the first volume (Letters A–L—until 1238) of the encyclopaedia was not published until 1917; the second part of this volume, completing the history of German-speaking Jews until 1238, appeared only in 1934.36 Despite the dangerous political situation in Germany, the Society decided to go on with this endeavor. Freimann, who continued to work with Ismar Elbogen (1874–1943) and Haim Tykocinski (1862–1942) after Brann’s death in 1920 and remained one of the responsible editors until his emigration in 1939, played a decisive role in ensuring the continuity of this project. After the Second World War publication of the encyclopaedia was resumed in Israel by one of its earlier scholars, Zvi Avneri (1901–1967). Thanks to funding by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, the Ger- mania Judaica is today a joint German-Israeli research project, based in Düsseldorf and Jerusalem. In recent years three volumes in several parts have been published, covering the period until 1519; currently research is being done for the fourth volume, according to regions, for the period 1520–1650. This major Jewish Studies undertaking is the only one of Freimann’s projects still being carried on in Germany.

36 Germania Judaica, commissioned by the Gesellschaft zur Förderung der Wissenschaft des Judentums, eds. Markus Brann and Aron Freimann, vol. I:1 (Frankfurt a.M.: Kauffmann, 1917). Germania Judaica, commissioned by the Gesellschaft zur Förderung der Wissenschaft des Judentums, eds., after M. Brann’s death, Ismar Elbogen, Aron Freimann and Chaim Tykosinski, vol. I:1/2: Von den ältesten Zeiten bis 1238 [From the earliest times until 1938] (Breslau: Marcus, 1934). 334 rachel heuberger

Mekize Nirdamim

The second endeavor dating back to Freimann’s activities is Mekize Nirdamim (Society for the Arousing of those who are Asleep), dedicated to the publication of scholarly editions of medieval Hebrew manuscripts from various fields of interest. Founded originally in 1862 by Eliezer L. Silbermann of Lyck (East Prussia, 1819–1882), cofounder in 1856 of the first Hebrew weekly Ha-Maggid, in cooperation with eminent scholars like Chief Rabbi Nathan M. Adler (London, 1803–1899), Michael Sachs (Berlin, 1808–1864) and Shmuel David Luzzatto (Padua, 1800– 1865), Mekize Nirdamim was revived again in 1909 by David Simonsen, later its president, Aron Freimann as vice-president and Samuel Poznański as secretary.37 Following Simonsen’s death in 1932, Freimann was its president for the next 10 years. After the First World War the Society moved its office from Berlin to Frankfurt and in 1934 to Jeru- salem, where it is still active, having published 110 editions so far. In 1922 Freimann persuaded Agnon to accept its secretarial post; much later, 1954–1970, Agnon functioned as its president. As documented by the many postcards between Poznański and Freimann, now in the Israel National Library, Freimann spent a lot of time on the Society’s tasks, busy not only with selecting the manuscripts and making essential decisions about their publication, but also with keeping the records of members and their fee payments, bargain- ing with the publishing house, overseeing the delivery of the printed copies and in general being responsible for daily administrative matters. During this time he edited two publications, a volume of documents dealing with the Shabbatean movement that appeared in 1912 and the Ma{agal Tov ha-Shalem, the first complete scholarly edition of the 18th-century travel diary of ayyim Josef David Azulai, published in two volumes in 1921 and 1934.38

37 David Simonsen, “Meine Bibliothek,” Mitteilungen der Soncino-Gesellschaft, N.F. 2 (1932): 34–39. See also: Societas Mekize Nirdamim 1864–1964 [Heb.] ( Jerusalem, 1964); Ephraim E. Urbach, “Hevrat Mekize Nirdamim 1864–1964,” in Ephraim E. Urbach. Studies in Judaica [Heb.], eds. Moshe D. Herr & Jonah Fraenkel ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1998), vol. 2, pp. 816–826. 38 Inyene Shabtai Tsevi. Sammelband kleiner Schriften über Sabbatai Zebi und dessen Anhänger [Heb.], with Introduction and Notes, ed. A. Freimann (Berlin: Itzkowski, 1912). Hayim Yosef David Azulai: Ma{agal Tov ha-shalem, ed. A. Freimann, vol. 1 (Berlin: Itzkowski, 1921), vol. 2 ( Jerusalem, 1934). the development of jewish bibliography in germany 335

In contrast to these projects, others in which Freimann was involved, like the above-mentioned Soncino Society of the Friends of Jew- ish Books, founded to advance awareness of the aesthetic design of German and Hebrew books on Jewish subjects, have yet to be revived by scholars of German-Jewish history and culture.39

The Judaica-Catalogue of the Frankfurt Library Collection

Within the broad community of intellectuals and scholars of the humanities, Freimann’s reputation today, like Steinschneider’s, is based on the publication of a single library catalogue. While the Catalogus librorum hebraeorum in Bibliotheca Bodleiana “established Steinschneider’s fame as a scholar of the highest calibre,”40 Freimann is known among scholars of disciplines outside of Jewish Studies, who mostly do not know Hebrew, as the author of the Judaica catalogue of the Frank- furt Library collection, published as Katalog der Judaica und Hebraica, Stadtbibliothek Frankfurt am Main, Band Judaica.41 The catalogue, the ﬁrst to list exclusively Judaica literature in non-Hebrew letters, is still judged as “a milestone on the road of Jewish bibliography” and remains the standard bibliography of Judaica for sources until 1930.42 The original 1932 catalogue registered the approximately 15,000 titles constituting the Judaica collection of the Frankfurt University Library, then part of the Stadtbibliothek, the largest collection on the European continent and “one of the ﬁnest of this nature ever accumulated.”43 The catalogue consists of two sections, a systematic main part, divided into ten major thematic categories, and an index listing authors, titles and subjects. The value of its information lies in its very detailed entries, including descriptions of serials and multi- volume works, its naming of the authors of anonymous works and its

39 Abraham Horodisch, “Ein Abenteuer im Geiste. Die Soncino-Gesellschaft der Freunde des jüdischen Buches,” in Bibliotheca Docet. Festgabe für Carl Wehmer, ed. Siegfried Joost (Amsterdam: Erasmus, 1963), pp. 181–208. 40 Sh. Brisman, A History and Guide to Judaic Bibliography, p. 43. 41 Katalog der Judaica und Hebraica—Stadtbibliothek Frankfurt am Main, vol. 1: Judaica, ed. A. Freimann (Frankfurt a.M.: M. Lehrberger & Co., 1932). 42 S. W. Baron, “Some Recent Literature on the History of the Jews in the Pre- Emancipation Era (1300–1800),” Cahiers d’Histoire Mondiale / Journal of World History / Cuadernos de Historia Mundial 7 (1962): 142. 43 Sh. Brisman, A History and Guide to Judaic Bibliography, p. 118. 336 rachel heuberger decoding of a large number of pseudonyms. When the catalogue was reprinted in 1968, the original signatures were omitted because the Judaica collection had suffered some losses during the Second World War.44 Instead of being the record of a specific collection, it serves today as the most comprehensive bibliography of Jewish Studies of the Weimar period.45 More than being primarily a bibliographical tool, Freimann’s printed Judaica catalogue is historically significant for having secured the continuity of the Frankfurt Judaica collection during the Nazi years and the immediate post-war period.46 In order to prevent the transfer of the books overseas, the then officiating library director, Hans Wilhelm Eppelsheimer, argued in 1950 that the collection formed a cohesive entity that was expected in Frankfurt and could not be sold without damaging the reputation of the city and European scholarship.47 The worldwide fame of the collection built up by Freimann was the reason for creating two special collections—the Judaica collection and the collection of Israel Studies—in the University Library Frankfurt, supported financially since 1948 by the German Research Foundation (DFG).48 Furthermore, the Judaica catalogue serves as the foundation for the ongoing project of transforming the historic Judaica collection into an online database, accessible free of charge in the World Wide Web. Without this catalogue the titles of books of the pre-war Judaica collection still in the library would be part of the general catalogue only, with no way of determining them nor of tracing the titles of all the onetime library books that were lost during the war. The purposes of assembling a “Virtual Judaica Collection Frankfurt” are to reconstruct virtually the pre-1933 Judaica collection

44 Katalog der Judaica und Hebraica—Stadtbibliothek Frankfurt am Main, ed. Aron Freimann, vol. 1: Judaica, Frankfurt a.M., 1932. Photomechanischer Nachdruck [reprint], Vorwort [Preface] von Annie Fraenkel (Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, 1968). 45 Werner Schochow, Deutsch-jüdische Geschichtswissenschaft. Eine Geschichte ihrer Organisa- tionsformen unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Fachbibliographie (Diss. 1961) (Berlin: Franzen, 1966), p. 104. 46 Dieter Schiefelbein, “Das Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage in Frankfurt a.M.” Vorgeschichte und Gründung 1935–1939 (Frankfurt a.M.: Arbeitsstelle zur Vorbereitung des Frankfurter Lern- und Dokumentationszentrums des Holocaust Fritz-Bauer-Instituts, 1993). 47 Institut für Stadtgeschichte Frankfurt am Main, Akten des Kulturamts, KA 879 2. März 1950. 48 http://www.ub.uni-frankfurt.de/ssg/israel_en.html (Nov. 20, 2008). http://www. ub.uni-frankfurt.de/ssg/judaica_en.html (Nov. 20, 2008). the development of jewish bibliography in germany 337 by supplementing the missing books through loans from other libraries in a digitized manner and to provide a database with complex retrieval possibilities enabling structured- and full-text search.49 The scholarly and bibliographical work of Freimann, the last pre- war bibliographical authority of the Wissenschaft des Judentums in Ger- many, has thus impacted on modern developments in Jewish Studies in Germany and internationally.

49 http://www.judaica-frankfurt.de/ (Nov. 20, 2008). 16. A LIVING CITIZEN IN A WORLD OF DEAD LETTERS: STEINSCHNEIDER REMEMBERED*

Avriel Bar-Levav

There are a number of indications of the development of a scholar. One of these is the growing awareness of how much we do not know. Similarly, one sign of the advancement in many fields of Jewish studies is the admiration and often also the love felt for Moritz Steinschneider. We, the admirers of Steinschneider, form a small but select group. True, not all of us are as thorough as Moshe Idel, who, when writing his doctoral dissertation, consulted not only the published works, but also the handwritten notes in the margins of Steinschneider’s own copies. These annotated copies are kept in the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York and are available, on microfilm, in the Institute of Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts of the National Library of Israel in Jerusalem (formerly the Jewish National and University Library). Yet, we all share the high esteem with which we hold the intellectual powers of this unique giant and which has not waned even a century after his death. In so many cases we owe our own understanding to his knowledge and erudition. It is often the case that Steinschneider already knew what we have painstakingly “revealed.” Steinschneider will apparently never become a cultural hero in the popular sense, but he will always be a shining example for scholars in his fields of inquiry.1 In his lifetime, however, he was a kind of cultural icon for a small group of young people, Jewish students who came to study in Berlin and sought to establish or renew their Jewish identity through scholarly and sometimes also Zionist activity.2 Their memoirs reflect a personal side of Steinschneider which fascinated and charmed them.

* I am grateful to Gad Freudenthal and to Shlomo Berger, without whose assistance this paper would not have been possible, and to Iris Shagrir, Daniel Abrams, and Ed Levin for their useful comments. 1 See Charles H. Manekin, “Steinschneider’s Die hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittel- alters: From Reference Work to Digitalized Database,” Jewish Studies Quarterly 7 (2000), pp. 141–59. 2 See Alexander Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publica- tion Society of America, 1947), pp. 140–41. 340 avriel bar-levav

In this paper I would like to point out some of the reflections of this aspect of Steinschneider’s character and discuss his image as reflected in particular in the writings of another great Jewish intellectual, Ger- shom Scholem, who lived in Berlin a generation after Steinschneider. Steinschneider’s personality was rich and multifaceted; scholarship was only one, albeit central, aspect of his life. He was a family man, with five children; he played the flute; he earned a living as an educator and administrator of a girls’ school. Although his scholarship was rigorous and even dry, one can sometimes sense the emotion and humor between the lines. His polemical style and criticism were certainly vivid. The combination of a strong personality, astonishing intellectual qualities, and devotion to scholarship, with a mild, witty, and communicative manner, was one of the reasons for the young Jewish intellectuals’ fascination with him. His enormous productivity was also an indication of his generosity and willingness to share his knowledge, qualities that also manifested themselves in the private seminar he held for young Jewish students (from both of the rabbinical seminaries in Berlin—the Orthodox and the Liberal) in his private apartment on 34 Wallnertheaterstrasse, near the Schiller Theater.3 Thanks to Stein- schneider, these students encountered a new aspect of Jewish culture different than they had previously known. There are several testimonies confirming this phenomenon. Reuven Brainin (1862–1939), a central figure in Jewish publishing and journalism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, reminisced: “When I was near him I would sense the breath of another world, of which he was one of the last remnants, and it died with him.”4 Brainin coined the poignant characterization of Steinschneider as “a living citizen in the world of the dead letters.”5 He also relates that, before he met Steinschneider in person, he thought of him as only an industrious compiler and only a dry bibliographer, that the quantity of his work is wondrous but not its quality, great only in the kingdom of pettiness. But after I encountered Steinschneider closely, his rich essence and his brilliant personality, I started to look at his books and work with a different eye. Certain books have brought me to their

3 Shalom Spiegel, “Steinschneider’s Student,” in Arthur Biram Festschrift, ed. H. Gevaryahu ( Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1956), p. 4 (Heb.). 4 Reuven Brainin, Selected Writings (Tel Aviv: Sifriyat Poalim, 1965), p. 208 (Heb.). 5 Ibid., p. 210. a living citizen in a world of dead letters 341

authors, but Steinschneider had brought me to his books. [. . .] We read his books not when we want to, but when we have to.6 Brainin wrote a moving memoir about Steinschneider. He warmly recalls the times he met the aging Steinschneider in the Berlin Staats- bibliothek. He describes an energetic old man with a small black skull- cap on his head and a red handkerchief peeking out of his pocket. He describes Steinschneider’s kindly demeanor and the joy the latter expressed every time he saw his student. This spontaneous reaction on the part of Steinschneider testifies to his capacity to connect with young people, a capacity, as has already been noted, reflected also in his career as an educator. Among Steinschneider’s fourteen hundred publications a few belong to the genre of didactic literature for children, including a small Hebrew-instruction textbook and a collection of parables for children.7 Steinschneider’s conviviality with young students is reflected in other memoirs as well, such as that by Arthur Biram (1878–1967).8 Shalom Spiegel (1899–1984), in an essay about Biram, tells of the latter’s profound impressions from Steinschneider’s private seminars at 34 Wall- nertheaterstrasse.9 According to Spiegel, Biram, who was to found the pioneering and influential “Reali” school in Haifa, based his educational vision, inter alia, on his admiration for Steinschneider. Spiegel writes: One who reads Steinschneider’s book on the Jewish translators and translations, or studies his scholarly papers, which are scattered in various journals, might grasp medieval Judaism better and clearer than one who labors over the parallel four volumes of Graetz.10 Biram conveys a similar appreciation in an interview he gave to his own biographer.11 Both Brainin and Biram emphasize the influence of Steinschneider’s personality rather than his scholarship.

6 Ibid. 7 The most beautiful of them is Mashal u-melitzah lehorot . . . (A Parable and Fine Lan- guage for Instructing Israelite Youth to Follow the Paths of Morality . . .), Berlin 1861. This is a small collection (46 pages) which reveals his aesthetic sense. See also Reshit ha- limmud (The Beginning of Study), Berlin 1887, which is more of a standard textbook. 8 See Arthur Biram, “Moritz Steinschneider,” Ost und West 6 (1906), p. 267. 9 See the similar report of the vivid impression that Steinschneider had made on Ignáz Goldziher (1850–1921): Ignaz Goldziher Tagebuch, ed. Alexander Scheiber (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1978), p. 38. I am grateful to Peter Haber for this reference. 10 Spiegel, “Student,” p. 5. 11 See Sarah Halperin, Dr. A. Biram and His “Reali” School: Tradition and Experimenta- tion in Education ( Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1970), pp. 47–48 (Heb.). 342 avriel bar-levav

Another Jewish student from Berlin on whom Steinschneider left an imprint was Marcus Ehrenpreis (1869–1951). Born in Lemberg, Ehrenpreis studied in Berlin, served as Chief Rabbi of Sofia, Bulgaria, and died in Stockholm during his tenure as Chief Rabbi of Sweden. Ehrenpreis wrote a dissertation in 1895 about Jewish mysticism, and contributed to Hebrew journals of his period, writing mainly about modern Hebrew literature. He states: Steinschneider [. . .] was loyal with all his heart to Judaism as a rich and fascinating research field, in which he felt at home more than any other branch. His monumental book, Catalogus Librorum Hebraeorum in Bibliotheca Bodleiana, is an epoch-creating project which examines the broad ramifications of Jewish literature, which is indispensable for any student of this field. He was interested in the living Jews less than in the dead ones. When I worked on my doctoral dissertation about the notion of emana- tion [shefa ] in thirteenth-century Kabbalistic doctrine, he helped me with advice, and his negative attitude to Kabbalah did not change my positive attitude towards it. When, however, I told him one day about my plan to write a survey in one volume on Hebrew literature from Mendelssohn until today, to be published by the Tushia printing press in Warsaw, he raised his hands in protest: “Nonsense,” he exclaimed in annoyance, “there is no such literature, and there is nothing to write about!” And then he asked, certainly not to the point: “Do you know English? You can learn it in sixty hours, and that would bring you more use than publishing a history of modern Hebrew literature.”12 Steinschneider’s cynical remarks might express not only his opinion of modern Hebrew literature, but also the negative attitude he developed in his last years toward the enterprise of writing a history of literature, as Irene Zwiep has brilliantly suggested.13 Steinschneider’s appeal to Ehrenpreis to learn English is ironic, because he composed the catalogue of the Hebrew collection of the Bodleian library in Oxford in Latin, as a compromise, because the library would not agree to publish it in German, and at that stage his English was not good enough. Nevertheless, it is interesting to compare Steinschneider’s declared low

12 Mordecai (Marcus) Ehrenpreis, Between East and West, trans. M. Giora (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1953), pp. 39–40 (Heb.). On Ehrenpreis see: Marcus (Mordecai) Ehren- preis, Whither? Literary Essays, edited with Introduction and notes by Avner Holtzman ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1998) (Heb.); Avner Holtzman, Loves of Zion: Studies in Modern Hebrew Literature ( Jerusalem: Carmel, 2006), pp. 161–66 (Heb.). 13 See Irene Zwiep, “From Dialektik to Comparative Literature. Steinschneider’s ‘Orientalism’” in this volume. a living citizen in a world of dead letters 343 esteem for modern Hebrew literature with what Brainin tells us about his actual practice: Steinschneider had expertise in the belles lettres and poetry of the outstanding poets of ancient and contemporary nations; of the poets of Israel and the fruits of their spirit he knew also the minor ones. Sometimes he liked to mock strange phrases [melitzot meshunnot] and bad poems, from which he would quote examples by heart. The newer phenomena did not escape his penetrating gaze; rather, he related seriously to everything, albeit not without a trace of mockery. He would sweeten and soften the bitterness of his harsh judgment on certain strange phenomena in our literature with his great affection for everything written in Hebrew. . . . In most of the books in Steinschneider’s private library there were annotations that he made while reading, and he also read the latest books of our [Hebrew] literature.14 In typical orientalist fashion, Steinschneider mocked the material he knew by heart. Ehrenpreis himself, incidentally, despaired of modern Hebrew literature in an essay in Ha-Shiloa in which he described this literature as dumb, because the Jewish people had become deaf. The weaving together of Judaism and Europeanism in Hebrew had failed, he suggested. From that period on, Ehrenpreis ceased to write in Hebrew. Perhaps we can see this as an acceptance of Steinschneider’s view, only after the death of the master?15 The case of Gershom Scholem is different. He had not met Stein- schneider in person; Scholem was ten years old when Steinschneider died. It was through his writings and scholarship that Scholem knew Steinschneider, whose works greatly inﬂuenced him.16 In the ﬁrst volume of Kiryat Sefer, Scholem published a list of notes and corrections to Steinschneider’s catalogue of manuscripts at the Munich library. This is how he begins:

14 Brainin, Selected Writings, p. 212. 15 See Marcus Ehrenpreis, “The Silent Literature,” Ha-Shiloa 17 (1908), pp. 387– 96 (Heb.). In Sweden, Ehrenpreis translated Agnon’s work into Swedish, and was thus instrumental in Agnon’s receipt of the Nobel Prize. When Agnon came to Stockholm to receive the prize, he visited Esther Ehrenpreis, the widow of his translator, who was then ninety years old. See Dan Laor, S.Y. Agnon: A Biography ( Jerusalem: Schocken, 1998), p. 574 (Heb.). 16 On the relationship between Scholem and his predecessors see Daniel Abrams, “Deﬁning Modern Academic Scholarship: Gershom Scholem and the Establishment of a New (?) Discipline,” The Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy 9 (2000), pp. 267– 302; and the rich discussion by Peter Schäfer in “Gershom Scholem und die ‘Wis- senschaft des Judentums,’” in Peter Schäfer and Gary Smith, eds., Gershom Scholem: Zwischen den Disziplinen (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1995), pp. 122–56. 344 avriel bar-levav

Steinschneider’s list of the Munich manuscripts has become a masterpiece [sefer mofet] of Hebrew bibliography. Therefore, even small corrections could be important. Hence I will provide some notes that I took when I went over the Kabbalistic manuscripts in Munich. I corrected only what I saw myself. So it is obvious that wherever I suggest a correction, I have copied the text letter by letter according to what is actually written in a manuscript, and not according to my own inclination.17 Steinschneider’s inﬂuence on Scholem can be seen in how Scholem lay the bibliographical foundations for his studies of Kabbalism.18 Scholem followed in Steinschneider’s footsteps with respect to the order in which he worked. First he prepared bibliographies and conducted studies of a bibliographical nature, such as those published in his Bibliographia Kabbalistica, the bibliography of printed Kabbalistic texts; next he drew up his own bibliography of the Kabbalistic manuscripts in the Jewish National and University Library; concomitantly he published many bibliographical and philological essays on Jewish mystical texts in Kiryat Sefer and elsewhere. Having thus laid the bibliographical foundations, Scholem next published his larger syntheses, such as Major Trends and Sabbatai Sevi. Scholem fully adopted Stein- schneider’s view on the prerequisites of scientiﬁc study, his approach to manuscripts, and his high professional standards. Steinschneider’s and Scholem’s way of annotating their own personal copies of their books is similar, and it is quite probable that Scholem saw some of Steinschneider’s annotated copies of his books, although this is not a unique system and Scholem could have adopted it independently. Interestingly, however, they share the same marking habits, that is, underlining proper names, as can be seen in the Scholem Collection, which is now part of the National Library of Israel.

17 Gershom Scholem, “Notes and Corrections to the List of the Manuscripts in Munich,” Kiryat Sefer 1 (1925), pp. 284–93, on p. 284 (Heb.). 18 Steinschneider’s inﬂuence on Scholem was demonstrated in detail in a lecture delivered by Moshe Idel that will be published in a forthcoming volume of Pexamim: Studies in Oriental Jewry dedicated to Steinschneider. The inﬂuence of Steinschneider’s work and style on Talmudic scholarship has yet to be studied. There are patent similarities between Steinschneider’s approach and that of J. N. Epstein, the founder of the Jerusalem school of Talmudic philology. See, e.g., Epstein’s Introduction to the Mishnaic Text ( Jerusalem: Magnes, 20003) (Heb.). On Epstein and the Wissenschaft see Yaakov Sussmann, “Professor J. N. Epstein and the Hebrew University,” in Shaul Katz and Michael Heyd, eds., The History of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem: Origins and Beginnings ( Jerusalem: Magnes, 1997), pp. 476–86, esp. p. 480 (Heb.); and the literature on the Wissenschaft mentioned by Daniel R. Schwartz in “From Rabbinical Seminaries to the Institute of Jewish Studies,” in ibid., pp. 457, n. 1 (Heb.). a living citizen in a world of dead letters 345

As is well known, however, Scholem wrote harshly against Wis- senschaft des Judentums, including Steinschneider. His essay, published in 1945 in a popular platform, Lua ha-aretz, is one of his more rous- ing works on the subject. It is replete with passionate anger, and he implicitly accuses Zunz, Steinschneider, and Geiger of treason. He describes them as if they were performing an exorcism ritual, circling the dead body of Judaism. But actually, he says, they themselves were the demons from which Judaism should be protected.19 How can we understand the fact that Scholem was both strongly influenced by and at the same time demonized Steinschneider? It seems to me that the answer lies more in the realm of personality and emotions than in that of the intellect. Scholem’s above-cited essay was published at a time when the news of the annihilation of European Jewry had just become known, and he was very distressed and depressed, as attested by his wife Fania.20 We should keep in mind that Scholem was an extremely critical personality, a fact that greatly impressed Franz Rosenzweig, as Agnon has noted.21 But we do not need this testimony to appreciate Scholem’s critical attitude. It suffices to read the footnotes of a work like Sabbatai Sevi, which are full of critical, often scath- ing remarks.22 It seems to me that, in some cases, Scholem’s debt to scholars who influenced him lead him to resent them. This is clearly the case with Martin Buber: at first Scholem’s teacher of Hasidism, he and his student soon had a falling out and became bitter rivals. We can see this also in the scornful attitude Scholem expressed toward his predecessors, such as Adolph Frank, Adolph Jellinek, and of course Heinrich Graetz (in the latter case, in agreement with Steinschneider). Scholem’s attitude was not entirely justified. Graetz, for example, his unwavering rebuke of Jewish mysticism notwithstanding, devoted large sections of his books and much energy to the study of Jewish mysticism. Adolf Jellinek, who openly expressed his empathy toward Jewish

19 Gershom Scholem, “Thoughts about Wissenschaft des Judentums,” reprinted in Devarim be-go (Explications and Implications) (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1975), pp. 385–403 (Heb.). On page 391 he refers to Steinschneider and Zunz as “really demonic figures.” See David Biale, Gershom Scholem: Kabbalah and Counter-History (Cambridge, MA: Har- vard University Press, 1979), pp. 5–13, 189–91. 20 See the introduction by Fania Scholem to the new edition of Sabbatai Sevi (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1987), p. xxviii (Heb.). 21 See S. Y. Agnon, From Myself to Myself ( Jerusalem: Schocken, 1976), p. 277 (Heb.). 22 I learned this from my teacher Zeev Gries. 346 avriel bar-levav mysticism, had made important scholarly contributions in the field and unearthed unpublished manuscripts.23 As demonstrated by Moshe Idel in the first chapter of his Kabbalah: New Perspectives, the field prior to Scholem was less barren than he had depicted it.24 Scholem tells a story about his visit to the home of one of the old figures of Wissenschaft des Judentums—Philip Bloch, who was a student of Graetz’s and possessed a fine collection of Jewish mystical books.25 When the young Scholem expressed his enthusiasm at the fact that his host had read all these books, the old man replied that he had never intended to read this “nonsense.” Scholem concludes the story by saying that it was a great moment in his biography,26 and in another place he remarks that at that moment he understood much about the Wissenschaft des Judentums. But Scholem’s judgment about the Wissen- schaft was certainly overly harsh and perhaps biased, as shown by the above citations. The aphorism stating that the Wissenschaft des Judentums sought to give Judaism a decent burial,27 attributed to Steinschneider by Gotthold Weil (later a director of the Jewish National and Univer- sity Library), is often understood as if Steinschneider himself wished to destroy and bury traditional Judaism.28 In Max Wiener’s sophisticated analysis, Steinschneider’s depiction of the Jewish existence during the Middle Ages as lacking vitality was due to his ignorance of the existential religious dimensions of Jewish life and his concentration solely on the outer historical dimensions.29 It should, however, be noted that

23 See Moshe Idel, “On Adolf Jellinek and the Kabbalah,” Pexamim 100 (2004), pp. 15–22 (Heb.). 24 See Moshe Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988), pp. 1–16. 25 See Gershom Scholem, From Berlin to Jerusalem (Tel Aviv: ‘Am ‘Oved, 1982), pp. 170–71 (Heb.). 26 See ibid., p. 171; Scholem, Devavim be-go (above, n. 19), p. 65. 27 See Charles H. Manekin, “Steinschneider’s ‘Decent Burial’: A Reappraisal,” in Howard Kreisel, ed., Study and Knowledge in Jewish Thought (Beer Sheva: Ben Gurion University Press, 1996), pp. 239–51. Isamr Schorsch has added a concluding chapter to the Hebrew translation of his book, From Text to Context: The Turn to History in Modern Judaism, Hanover 1994, which he titled: ‘They did not Come to Burry’. See Ha-peniya le-avar ba-yahadut ha-modernit, trans. Lahad Lazar ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar, 2000), pp. 452–456. 28 See, e.g., such an understanding of the project of the Wissenschaft des Judentums in Yehuda Liebes, “Thoughts on the Religious Meaning of the Study of Kabbalah,” in his God’s Story: Collected Essays on the Jewish Myth ( Jerusalem: Carmel, 2008), p. 326 (Heb.). 29 See Max Wiener, Jüdische Religion im Zeitalter der Emanzipation (Berlin: Philo- Verlag, 1933), pp. 203–9; and the introduction by Paul R. Mendes-Flohr to the extremely a living citizen in a world of dead letters 347 when Steinschneider quotes Zunz, who also had referred to a burial, it is not the burial of Judaism which he refers to, but that of modern Hebrew literature, which is something totally different: “die neuhe- bräische Literatur zu Grabe tragen.”30 Steinschneider’s influence contributed to shaping the Hebrew Uni- versity and the Jewish National and University Library in Jerusalem. From its inception, the Hebrew University espoused two major ideas that were central for Steinschneider. Firstly, it realized the institutionalization of Jewish studies within the framework of a university.31 While Jewish, the Hebrew University succeeded in creating and maintaining a-religious scholarship of the highest order. A central scientific project affiliated with the university, in connection with the Jewish National and University Library, was the foundation of the bibliographic journal Kiryat Sefer, a title which signifies the building of the old-new Jewish city of books. The head of the library in 1935–46, after Hugo Berg- mann, was Gotthold Weil (1882–1960), a prominent orientalist and a former student of Steinschneider’s in Berlin. Whether following the example of his teacher or as a result of his Prussian upbringing and personality, Weil tried to discipline both the workers and the readers of the National Library.32 Another similar project is the Bibliography of the Hebrew Book, established in 1960. Gershom Scholem was the head of its editorial board from its foundation and almost until his death in 1982. Even after retiring from all of his formal duties in his seventies, he stayed on in this position.33 Kiryat Sefer appeared in print for eighty years and ceased not long ago. Yet, in comparison with Steinschneider’s stance, we discern the shortcomings of this Hebrew bibliography project, which have been corrected only of late. In the wake of the struggle to establish Hebrew as the old-new national language of the Jewish people, the Hebrew

useful collection of sources which he edited: Modern Jewish Studies: Historical and Philo- sophical Perspectives ( Jerusalem: Merkaz Zalman Shazar, 1979), pp. 18–19 (Heb.). 30 Moritz Steinschneider, “Die Zukunft der Jüdischen Wissenschaft,” HB 9 (1869), p. 76. 31 See Manekin, “Decent Burial,” p. 251. 32 See Daniel Goldschmidt, “Prof. A.G. Weil: In Memoriam,” Yad la-Qore 6 (1961), pp. 172–73 (Heb.). 33 Malachi Beit-Arié, “Gershom Scholem’s Approach to the Book and Library,” in Gershom Scholem: The Man and His Work ( Jerusalem: The Israel Academy of Science and Humanities, 1983), p. 69 (Heb.). 348 avriel bar-levav

Bibliography Project collected solely material about books in Hebrew. Only in recent years did it expand its horizons to include books in other languages used by Jews. Steinschneider’s deﬁnition of Jewish literature was more comprehensive. Furthermore, the comparison of what Steinschneider achieved in a single lifetime, to the work of a group over three generations, is amazing. It seems unbelievable that the fourteen hundred titles in Steinschneider’s bibliography, including comprehensive catalogues, are not the product of a sizeable scholarly institute but the fruit of the labor of one person, who, moreover, had to toil for his livelihood and that of his family. Perhaps because he gave his readers many more facts than hypotheses, Steinschneider’s works in many cases still remain relevant and useful to the present. When reading the dry facts, we might also remember his vivid personality. As Brainin remarked: “By means of the dead letters and with the sharpness of his clear mind, Steinschneider would depict the living soul of entire periods of the history of our people and of its literature. The dead letters, lying around in the graves of the old libraries, did not put to death the living spirit within him.”34 This living spirit attracted young people, and it is, perhaps, part of the secret of Steinschneider’s still living work.

34 Brainin, Writings, p. 209. III. THE STUDY OF MEDIEVAL LITERATURE, PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 17. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER AND KARAITE STUDIES*

Daniel J. Lasker

An evaluation of Moritz Steinschneider’s contribution to Karaite studies naturally begins with the question of Steinschneider’s attitude toward Karaism and its relation to Judaism. Unlike many students of Judaic Studies today, Steinschneider saw Karaism as an integral part of Jewish literature and history. In the mid-nineteenth century, eastern European Karaites under Russian Czarist rule had only recently initiated the process which eventually would lead to a severance of ties between them and the rest of the Jewish People (something never considered by Karaites in Islamic countries).1 Hence, when Stein- schneider looked at Karaite literature, he saw works written mostly in Hebrew and Judaeo-Arabic by people who considered themselves, and were considered by others, as Jews. These compositions clearly fell under the purview of his scholarly goal of describing the whole scope of Jewish literature. In Steinschneider’s Germany the term “Karaite” was bandied about by both sides in Orthodox-Reform polemics as a term of opprobrium, mainly by people who had never seen a real- life Karaite nor had read an authentic Karaite treatise,2 but it would appear that Steinschneider’s interest in Karaism did not have anything to do with his own personal ambiguous attitude toward the Rabbinic Jewish tradition. Steinschneider simply recognized Karaism as a form of Judaism and considered its literature as part of the Jewish patrimony. Despite Steinschneider’s recognition of Karaism as part of Juda- ism, in his early work he did not “mainstream” Karaite literature into

* This research was supported by The Israel Science Foundation (grant No. 28/07) as part of a larger project on Karaite intellectuals in pre-modern Eastern Europe. 1 For a comprehensive discussion of the process which led to the disengagement of Eastern European Karaites from the Jewish People, see Golda Akhiezer, “Tendencies and Changes in the Development of the Historical Consciousness of the Karaites in Eastern Europe between the 17th–19th Centuries,” diss., Hebrew University, 2008 (Hebrew). 2 See Daniel J. Lasker, “The Karaite as Jewish ‘Other,’” Pexamim 89 (Autumn, 2001): 97–106 (Hebrew). 352 daniel j. lasker

Jewish literature in general. Thus, he discussed Karaite literature in a separate chapter in Jewish Literature (1857),3 rather than, for instance, integrating Karaite philosophy into the chapter on Jewish philosophy or Karaite biblical exegesis into the chapter on Jewish biblical exegesis. Steinschneider did a better job of mainstreaming Karaism in his later works: Polemische und apologetische Literatur (1877), Hebraeische Über- setzungen (1893), and Arabische Literatur der Juden (1902). Although Kara- ite literature is designated separately in each book, the sections dealing with classical Karaite Judaeo-Arabic literature are placed more or less chronologically, juxtaposed to the period of Rav Saadia Gaon.4 Later Karaite authors who did not ﬁt into this chronology are considered as individuals. Furthermore, in some of Steinschneider’s specialized books, such as on Jews in medicine, mathematics, Hebrew grammar, and historical literature, Karaite authors are listed next to Rabbanite ones. For instance, in Hebraeische Sprachkunde (1859), Aaron ben Joseph, the thirteenth-century Karaite, is placed in between Moses Raphael d’Aguilar, the seventeenth-century Spanish-Portuguese rabbi from Amsterdam, and Aaron ben Samuel, the seventeenth-century Ashke- nazi author of Bet Aharon.5 One of the mathematicians mentioned in the monograph devoted to that subject is Caleb Afendopolo, about whose scientiﬁc prowess Steinschneider wrote at length, and whom he calls a “polyhistor” in Jewish Literature.6 Karaite literature also fared better than Samaritan literature, which appeared only as an appendix in Arabische Literatur.7 Still, it would be fair to say that for Stein- schneider, Karaite literature and history were considered subsets of

3 See JL/E, pp. 115–122 (like the rest of the book, this section, called “Karaitic Lit- erature,” is an expansion of the original German article which appeared in JL/G). 4 Pol. Lit., pp. 340–349; HÜ, pp. 449–461; 940–948 (the discussions of Karaite literature are placed before sections dealing with Christians, as if Karaism was seen as on the cusp between Judaism and Christianity); and Arab. Lit., pp. 74–95. 5 Bibliographisches Handbuch über die theoretische und praktische Literatur für hebräische Sprach- kunde (Leipzig: Vogel, 1859), p. 3. See also Mathematik bei den Juden (Hildesheim: Geog Olms, 1964), d 78–79, 112; f 34; g 102; h 62, 70; i 475–477. 6 See JL/E, p. 121; Ges. Schr., pp. 184–194 (reprinted from Ersch und Gruber, II:32 [Leipzig, 1882], pp. 118–121); Mathematik, pp. 204–205; and “Miscellen,” MGWJ 28 (1893–1894): 68–77; 30 (1895–1896): 90–94. 7 Arab. Lit., pp. 319–334. Samaritans were never considered part of the Jewish People, as were Karaites, even though their literature is important for the history of Jewish literature. moritz steinschneider and karaite studies 353

Jewish literature and history, definitely Jewish, yet still subsets and not mainstream. Although Steinschneider saw Karaism as part and parcel of Judaism, he could not refrain from making some disparaging remarks about its practitioners. Thus, he wrote that Karaism “[kept] itself aloof from the natural development of the nation, having been called into existence by external circumstances.” Or: “Karaism could not fail to be aware of a contradiction and harshness in the Law; to their own interpretation of which, however, they inflexibly adhered.” Some of the Karaite groups had “peculiar and unrecognized customs.”8 He also claimed that because Islam influenced Karaite theology and religious practices, many Karaites converted to that religion.9 Despite these negative sentiments, Steinschneider proceeded with his normal care and exactitude to do his best to describe Karaite literature as accurately as possible. * Steinschneider realized the enormity of his task. Writing in 1857, he noted that recent events, namely the Crimean War (1853–1856), had drawn public attention to the Karaites, since the Crimea was a major Karaite center, but that no breakthroughs had been made in writing Karaite history. Furthermore, he notes, “It seems that no advantage has been taken of this opportunity of enlarging our very small store of Karaitic literature; and there is but little hope that amongst the warlike trophies of Sebastopol any Hebrew parchments will be found.”10 Thus, Steinschneider bemoaned the fact that the Crimean War was not fought to discover new manuscripts. In any event, he concluded: “[T]he whole Karaitic literature is so little known and so inaccessible, that any attempt at its internal history appears, to the writer of this work at least, too bold an undertaking, particularly since the chronology

8 JL/E, p. 118. 9 JL/E, p. 117. The influence of Islam on Karaism is the subject of an ongoing debate; see Michael Cook, “ {Anan and Islam: The Origins of Karaite Scripturalism,” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 9 (1987): 161–182; Meira Polliack, “Rethinking Karaism: Between Judaism and Islam,” AJS Review 30:1 (2006): 67–93; and Daniel J. Lasker, “Islamic Influences on Karaite Origins,” in William M. Brinner and Stephen D. Ricks, eds., Studies in Islamic and Judaic Traditions II (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1989), pp. 23–47. Although some Karaite communities may have been more Islami- cized than their neighboring Rabbinate ones (e.g., there are Karaite transcriptions of the Hebrew Bible in Arabic script), there does not seem to be any reason to think that more Karaites than Rabbanites converted to Islam. 10 JL/E, p. 116. 354 daniel j. lasker brought forward by some of their own more recent authors is both arbitrary and contradictory.”11 At the same time as Steinschneider was publishing his English work on Jewish literature, he was cataloguing the Warner Collection at the University of Leiden (1858), a collection which contains a dispropor- tionately large percentage of Karaite classics and includes very important Karaite manuscripts.12 As he wrote twenty years later, he had anticipated that the publication of the Leiden catalogue would give Karaite studies a boost. Yet, he bemoaned, the situation described in Jewish Literature had not improved. Although Karaite literature had been much discussed in the interim, Steinschneider opined in his Polemische und apologetische Literatur (1877) that one must say with the watchman in Isaiah (21:12): “The morning comes, and also the night.” He had hardly begun to learn something about the Hebrew books in Leiden and partially to clear away the thorny path of Karaite studies, when Abraham Firkovitch’s falsified treasury of books arrived. According to Steinschneider, Firkovitch felt a need to turn his secret plagiarism into new discoveries and brilliant insights. Because of his unscrupu- lous fabrication of books, Firkovitch made himself crazy until he lost his judgment entirely. With his dilettantism, he built himself a hollow Tower of Babel of Karaite literature, which would take generations of hard work to deconstruct.13 In another place, Steinschneider refers to a work which, he wrote, Firkovitch had found [“fand ”], adding in parentheses the words “or perhaps invented?” [“oder erfand?”].14 Another fifteen years passed and Steinschneider continued to bemoan the “darkness” of Karaite literature, concluding his discussion of Karaite literature with the following: “With the pleasant feeling of leaving a dark forest, we part from the Karaites and the editors of their literature, where (in this literature) old fraud seems to be renewed and cleaned up by a lack of criticism, by plagiarism and by activities deficient in both knowledge and conscience.”15 Another five years passed, and despite Steinschneider’s hard work in destroying Firkovitch’s Tower of Babel, he concluded in his JQR series on the Arabic literature

11 JL/E, p. 118. 12 See, Cat. Leiden, e.g., numbers 1–5, 8, 12, 14, 16–17, 19, 21–22, 25–26, 30–31, 41 (to which 42 pages are dedicated), 49, 51–52, and 54. 13 Pol. Lit., p. 342. 14 Geschichtsliteratur, p. 160. 15 HÜ, p. 948. moritz steinschneider and karaite studies 355 of the Jews that Karaite studies are still suffering under a distinct handicap. He writes thus of Karaite studies: “We will not call it a kind of Nemesis, that the history of Karaïtic literature has become, in our time, a territory trodden principally by uncritical, unconscionable and ignorant authors and plagiarists—nomina sunt odiosa—the accumulated blunders of whom I shall abstain from enumerating and correcting.”16 Firkovitch is not mentioned in this context, but it is not hard to guess to whom Steinschneider is referring. * Who was this Abraham Firkovitch (1787–1874)? For one thing, one might almost call him (despite all the differences) the Karaite Stein- schneider. Firkovitch was no scholar and his activities were motivated by political and financial considerations; nevertheless, he was still an important bibliophile and a collector of Karaite and other manuscripts (such as Samaritan and some Rabbanite writings). Although the process of cataloguing his collections is still going on, today we know that Firkovitch’s forgeries or falsifications did not extend to most of the manuscripts which he had accumulated on his trips. The vast majority of the manuscripts remain exactly as they were when Firkovitch convinced various Karaite communities to transfer their treasures to him. Some of those manuscripts apparently came from Karaite genizas in Cairo, which are not the same as the Cairo geniza in the Ben Ezra synagogue, and are quite valuable for research, especially concerning the Judaeo-Arabic stage of Karaite history.17 Yet, in order to promote his policy of Karaite separatism, he was known for forging both colophons and transcriptions of gravestones. Thus, one can say that the historical judgment on Firkovitch remains mixed.18 Steinschneider had no such mixed feelings. Writing on the occasion of Firkovitch’s death, Steinschneider first attacks those scholars who gave credence to Firkovitch’s claims about Karaite history and chronology and then concludes: “We now know enough to claim without

16 “An Introduction to the Arabic Literature of the Jews,” JQR, o.s. 10 (1898): 534. 17 On Firkovitch’s collecting of manuscripts, see Zeev Elkin and Menahem Ben- Sasson, “Abraham Firkovitch and the Cairo Genizas in Light of his Personal Archive,” Pexamim 90 (Winter, 2002): 51–95 (Hebrew). 18 See Dan Shapira, Abraham Firkowicz in Istanbul (1830–1832). Paving the Way for Turkic Nationalism (Ankara: KaraM, 2003); Akhiezer, “Tendencies,” chapter 6; Tapani Harviainen, “Abraham Firkovich,” in Meira Polliack, Karaite Judaism (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2003), pp. 875–892. 356 daniel j. lasker being unjust that Firkovitch caused at least as much confusion and error, probably even falsification, as he spread light and truth.”19 Despite Steinschneider’s pessimism and despite the damage he felt had been done to Karaite studies by Firkovitch, it is clear that as the years went on, his understanding of Karaite literature increased tremendously. For instance, like some Karaites themselves, he at first confused Ya{qub al-Qirqisani (early tenth century) with Yusuf al-Basir (early eleventh century).20 Likewise, he did not seem to distinguish between Abu al-Faraj Harun ibn al-Faraj, the tenth-century grammarian, and Abu al-Faraj Furqan ibn Asad, the eleventh-century biblical exegete and legalist known also as Yeshuah ben Yehudah.21 Never- theless, by the time he published his exposition of Karaite literature in Arabische Literatur der Juden in 1902, his knowledge of Karaism had improved tremendously compared to that displayed in Jewish Literature, written close to fifty years previously.22 It would seem, then, that with all his distrust of Firkovitch, Steinschneider was quite successful in his attempts to put Karaite literature into some sort of order. He even cited manuscripts from the Firkovitch collections in St. Petersburg in his later writings. * Notwithstanding Steinschneider’s unflagging interest in Karaite studies throughout his life, when one thinks of the nineteenth-century pioneers of Karaite studies—such as Firkovitch, Simhah Pinsker, Adolph Neubauer, P. F. Frankl, Abraham Harkavy or Samuel Poznanski, not to mention the historians Isaak Marcus Jost or Julius Fürst, the works of both of whom are generally ignored today—Steinschneider’s name rarely comes up. Perhaps this is partially a result of the fact that Stein- schneider wrote about so much that Karaite studies were only a tiny

19 HB 14 (1874), pp. 133–134. Steinschneider apparently was not a believer in what the Romans call de mortuis nil nisi bonum, or what Jews call aare mot qedoshim emor. 20 JL/E, p. 120; Pol. Lit., p. 346. 21 JL/E, p. 120. 22 Steinschneider was still not sure of the relationship between Yusuf ibn Nu, the tenth-century grammarian and exegete, and Nissi ben Noah, of unknown dates, who is credited with advocating Karaite study of Rabbinic literature (Arab. Lit., pp. 75–76). On Yusuf, see Miriam Goldstein, “The Pentateuch Exegesis of the Karaites Yusuf ibn Nuh and Abu al-Faraj Harun: An Examination of Method in the Context of the Contemporaneous Literary and Exegetical Approaches of Jews, Christians and Mus- lims,” diss., Hebrew University, 2006; for Nissi, see Leon Nemoy, “Nissi ben Noah’s Quasi-Commentary on the Decalogue,” JQR 73 (April 1983): 307–348. moritz steinschneider and karaite studies 357 part of his oeuvre. There is another possible reason as well: Stein- schneider began his career in Karaite studies almost incognito. In 1841, Ahron ben Elia’s aus Nikomedien .עץ חיים :the following work appeared des Karäers System der Religionsphilosophie, published in Leipzig. The edited book, The Tree of Life, was written by Aaron ben Elijah, who died in 1369, and who is often called the “Karaite Maimonides.” Indeed, this philosophical treatise was written in response to Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed.23 What was Steinschneider’s role in this publication? The front and back covers of this publication say that this book was edited for the first time by Franz Delitzsch with his linguistic, critical and historical elucidations. Turning to the title pages, one sees that the right-hand title page gives the series as Anekdota zur Geschichte der mittelalterlichen Scholastik, edited by Franz Delitzsch; it is only on the left-hand title page that we see that Steinschneider contributed to this undertaking with annotations, indices and excursuses. In Delitzsch’s introduction to the work, however, there are hints that the 28-year- old Franz Delitzsch’s indebtedness to the 25-year-old Moritz Stein- schneider, who had first come to Leipzig to study under Delitzsch in 1839, was more than what met the eye. Reading between the lines of Delitzsch’s introduction, it would appear that Steinschneider’s role in editing this Karaite philosophical work was much more significant than could be gathered from the title page or even from Delitzsch’s explicit acknowledgment. It is possible that without Steinschneider, Delitzsch would not have succeeded in editing {Etz Æayyim, although one cannot be certain.24 In his Catalogue of Hebrew Books in the Bodleian (1852–1860), Stein- schneider, describing the printed edition, recorded the bibliographic information of {Etz Æayyim just as it appears on the title page: edited by Delitzsch with notes by Steinschneider.25 In the Leiden catalogue (1858), however, describing a manuscript of {Etz Æayyim, Stein- schneider writes that the printed version of this text was edited by Delitzsch and Steinschneider.26 In Steinschneider’s English work, Jew- ish Literature (1857), he says the book was published by Delitzsch and Steinschneider (referring to himself in the third person), and complains

23 On Aaron’s philosophy, see Daniel J. Lasker, From Judah Hadassi to Elijah Bashyatchi: Studies in Late Medieval Karaite Philosophy (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2008), chapter 6. 24 {Etz Æayyim, pp. 13–14. 25 CB, p. 720. 26 Cat. Leiden, p. 152. 358 daniel j. lasker that the historiographer Jost omitted Steinschneider’s name “entirely, attributing to Delitzsch even those additions, &c., which Delitzsch, on the title and in the preface, distinctly gives under the name of Steinschneider.”27 Furthermore, George Alexander Kohut’s bibliography, written in cooperation with Steinschneider, lists {Etz Æayyim as Steinschneider’s first separate work, and does not place it, for example, in the category of “contributions to the works of others.”28 Perhaps the final word on this topic can go to Alexander Marx, a not insignificant bibliographer in his own right and a student of Steinschneider’s: “The edition appeared in 1841 without the name of Steinschneider as co-editor on the title page, owing, as he said, to the conditions imposed by Prussian censorship.”29 It is doubtful whether we can reconstruct with any assurance the exact role played by each of the two scholars in preparing this publication, which most students of Karaite studies know only as the Delitzsch edition. Nevertheless, in light of the evidence presented here, I, myself, now refer to this publication as the Delitzsch-Steinschneider edition of Aaron ben Elijah’s {Etz Æayyim.30

* It is possible that Steinschneider was drawn to Aaron’s {Etz Æayyim, and to cataloguing the Leiden-Warner collection with its strong Kara- ite component, because early in his career he thought that Karaites might provide the solution to the problem of the entry of Greek science and philosophy into Jewish literature. He recognized that they were among the ﬁrst Jews in the Islamic realm to be drawn to these areas of interest and, thus, were perhaps the cultural transmitters of Greek learning.31 Yet, after the edition of {Etz Æayyim, Steinschneider never again devoted a separate monograph to Karaite literature in general

27 JL/E, p. 313, n. 32. 28 George Alexander Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Professor Dr. Moritz Steinschneider,” in Festschrift zum achtzigsten Geburtstage Moritz Steinschneider’s (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1896), pp. v–xxxix (entry on p. viii). Cf. also Abraham Berliner, Die Schriften des Dr. M. Steinschneider zu seinem 70. Geburtstage (Berlin: Ad. Mampe, 1886), p. 27. 29 Alexander Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Soci- ety, 1947), p. 117. 30 E. N. Adler, “Karaitica,” JQR, o.s. 12 (1900): 679, says: “Edited by Steinschneider and Delitzsch.” 31 JL/E, pp. 64, 94. moritz steinschneider and karaite studies 359 or to any specific Karaite author in particular, apparently no longer accepting the theory of Karaite centrality in the propagation of science among Jews. Perhaps, also, he was convinced that the hour was not yet ripe for a major account of Karaism and Karaite literature, given all the misinformation that had been spread by Firkovitch. Alternately, he may not have found their literature of sufficient interest to warrant a major expenditure of effort, or he may have felt that he could do Karaite literature justice in one of the other frameworks he was pursuing—polemical and apologetical literature, Hebrew translations, and Arabic literature of the Jews. As mentioned above, in every one of these major books Steinschneider devotes separate sections to Karaite literature as well as mentioning Karaite authors in other contexts. * If one were to summarize Steinschneider’s contribution to Karaite studies, it could be said that he provided some basic tools for research (such as his Leiden catalogue) and one very important text with its notes ({Etz Æayyim). Nevertheless, there are tremendous gaps in his presentations of Karaitica. When one consults Polemische und apologetische Literatur, or Hebraeische Übersetzungen, there is an impression of completeness and comprehensiveness. Modern revisions of these works can merely add details to the overall picture or present the same material from different perspectives. But, if in Steinschneider’s day an “internal history” of “Karaitic literature” was “too bold an undertaking,” in our own day the situation has changed dramatically. The time is now, indeed, ripe for such a history, since a number of factors which impeded Steinschneider’s research are no longer relevant. What are those factors? First of all, in Steinschneider’s day, especially at the beginning of his career, there were hardly any printed editions of Karaite books. If one looks at Steinschneider’s catalogue of printed Hebrew books in the Bodleian Library, the number of Karaite books can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Whereas most of the classics of Jewish Rabban- ite literature had already been published in Steinschneider’s day, only a small number of Karaite books had been printed until Firkovitch’s establishment of a Karaite printing press in Eupatoria in the 1830’s.32

32 A review of Karaite printing is provided by Barry D. Walﬁsh, “Karaite Press and Printing,” in Polliack, Karaite Judaism, pp. 925–959 (based partly on Samuel Poznanski, 360 daniel j. lasker

Although Firkovitch’s editions were not done scientifically, they are very valuable for an initial evaluation of Karaite literature. The same might be said for the current publishing project of Karaite Rabbi Yosef Algamil, who is now producing a plethora of printed editions of previously unedited texts under the imprint of the Tiferet Yosef Institute. Algamil’s editions are significantly inferior to Firkovitch’s, what with their misreadings, typographical errors, misunderstood abbreviations, imprecise information in the introductions, and so forth; yet, they can be used profitably with caution. In addition, there are quite a number of other Karaite classics which are now available in good editions, such as Salmon ben Yeruhim’s Milamot ha-Shem,33 Yusuf al-Basir’s Kitâb al-Mutawî,34 Ya{qub al-Qirqisani’s Kitâb al-Anwâr wa-l-Marâqib,35 and some of Yefet ben Eli’s commentaries. For all its problems, Jacob Mann’s Texts and Studies36 is an invaluable resource of texts. Stein- schneider did not have access to many of these texts, either in printed editions or in manuscript. Second, the Cairo Geniza has revolutionized Karaite studies (as it has Jewish Studies in general). Even if Schechter’s Geniza did not provide major Karaite treatises, it did open up a window to Karaite life under Islam which helps us evaluate more carefully questions of Karaite-Rabbanite relations (even if the issue of Karaite origins remains unsolved, although Solomon Schechter’s “Zadokite Document,” namely, the Damascus Covenant, contributes much to the discussion). Since the Cairo Geniza was found in a Rabbanite synagogue (Karaite claims notwithstanding), the number of discrete Karaite compositions is limited, but other materials there are full of information about the Karaite communities in the Islamic Middle East.37 The third factor which enables the contemporary student to see much further than Steinschneider is the opening up of the Firkovitch collections in St. Petersburg. It is true that in Steinschneider’s day there was no Soviet Union and access to the collections was freer,

“Karäische Drucke und Druckereien,” Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie 21 [1918]: 32–48; 66–83; 23 [1920]: 63–68). 33 Ed. Israel Davidson (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1934). 34 Ed. Georges Vajda (Leiden: Brill, 1985). 35 Ed. Leon Nemoy (New York,: Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1939– 1943). 36 Vol. 2 (Philadelphia: Hebrew College Press, 1935). 37 For a recent reconstruction of Karaite-Rabbanite relations based upon Geniza sources, see Marina Rustow, Heresy and the Politics of Community. The Jews of the Fatimid Caliphate (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2008). moritz steinschneider and karaite studies 361 but I assume Steinschneider’s antipathy to and distrust of Firkovitch prevented him from recognizing the full worth of the manuscripts that Firkovitch had amassed. After all, Pinsker had relied upon Firko- vitch material and had produced a book (Liqqute Qadmoniot)38 which Steinschneider found full of errors. Steinschneider was also wary of Harkavy’s use of Firkovitch material. As noted above, in his later works, Steinschneider makes reference to Firkovitch manuscripts, but he had little opportunity of taking full advantage of them. In contrast, the works of Steinschneider’s student, Samuel Poznanski, on Kara- ism, including his still unpublished Encyclopedia, utilize the Firkovitch collections and have significantly fewer mistakes than Steinschneider’s accounts. The Firkovitch and other manuscript collections in the Former Soviet Union open up as well a wide window to the intellectual achievements of early modern Eastern European Karaites, a subject almost completely ignored by Steinschneider and still mostly overlooked today. Steinschneider was aware of the lists of Karaite worthies included in Mordecai ben Nisan’s Dod Mordekhai (end of the seventeenth century) and Simah Isaac Lutzki’s Ora Tzaddiqim (1757), but he dismissed the fanciful parts of their historiographies without sufficient attention to their bibliographical contributions. He knew Isaac ben Abraham of Troki’s anti-Christian Æizzuq Emunah, which was printed in many editions and languages. But the rest of the European Karaite intellectuals in the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries seem to have been beyond his reach and interest, and only now is it possible to study these Kara- ite intellectuals in a systematic manner.39 What conclusions can be drawn about Moritz Steinschneider and Karaite studies? It would appear that the answer is: his earlier work is replete with mistakes; his later work is an adequate, but not indispensable, starting place for beginning a study on Karaite literature. By now, however, most of his accomplishments in this field have been overshadowed.40

38 Two vols. (Vienna: Edelbarth, 1860). 39 See Akhiezer, “Tendencies;” Daniel J. Lasker, “The Life and Works of Simah Isaac Lutski—A Preliminary Intellectual Proﬁle of an Eighteenth-Century Volhynian Karaite,” in Dan D. Y. Shapira and Daniel J. Lasker, eds., Eastern European Karaites in the Last Generations ( Jerusalem: Ben-Zvi Institute, 2011), pp. [36]–[56]; Mikhail Kizilov, The Karaites of Galicia: An Ethnoreligious Minority among the Ashkenazim, the Turks, and the Slavs, 1772–1945 (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2009). 40 I would like to thank my students Shalom Sadik and George Kohler for their research assistance. 18. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER’S CONTRIBUTION TO JUDAEO-ARABIC STUDIES

Paul B. Fenton

Of the manifold pioneering studies he penned in the domain of Jewish bibliography, Moritz Steinschneider’s investigation of Arabic writings by Jews certainly ranks supreme. Even if his furtherance of this field far exceeds all accomplishments prior to and, very likely, ever since his time, he was, however, not the initiator of the academic study of Judaeo-Arabic literature, but undoubtedly its foremost bibliographer. Interested in all languages used by Jews, Steinschneider had a special affection for Arabic, perceiving within it the superlative means to illustrate his cherished aim: the highlighting of the Jewish share in the intellectual progress of humanity. As a Hebraist, too, it was only natural then that Steinschneider should have been attracted to Judaeo- Arabic and, while still a young student, Arabic became his first love. The great scholar’s contribution to Islamic studies has already been partly covered in the preliminary survey by the late Franz Rosen- thal (1914–2003),1 and the other articles included in the present work exempt us from discussing the important matter of Jewish translations from the Arabic in the Middle Ages, the subject of Steinschneider’s monumental study on this theme, which in 1885 won him an award from the French Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres.2 Before going on to evaluate Steinschneider’s description of the field of Judaeo-Arabic letters, we propose to begin with a portrayal of the state of this art at his time by outlining the tradition of European Orientalism from which he sprung, and alluding to his forerunners in Judaeo-Arabic studies. Besides appraising the significance of his achievement, this paper will also discuss certain areas that he left uncovered, as well as some incongruities in his methodology.

1 F. Rosenthal, “Steinschneider’s contribution to the study of Muslim civilisation,” PAAJR 27 (1958): 67–81. Sufﬁce it to say that here, too, Steinschneider’s role is considerable, for example, his groundbreaking studies on the history of Arabic medicine, such as the series of articles on Jewish physicians under the Arabs. See below note 61. 2 The essay constituted the basis of his HÜ. 364 paul b. fenton

Steinschneider’s Arabic Training

In 1836, at the age of 20, Moritz Steinschneider had made his way from his native Prossnitz in Moravia to Vienna, in the hope of entering its prestigious Oriental Academy in order to obtain a thorough foundation in Semitic languages. Though as a Jew he was never admitted to the University, in 1838 he was able to attend the lectures of the theologian and philologist Joseph Kärle (1802–1860) in Hebrew, Syriac and Arabic at the Faculty of Theology. For political reasons he was compelled to leave Vienna and went on to Leipzig, which at that time had become a thriving center of Oriental Studies under the great master Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer (1801–1888), with whom Stein- schneider studied the Koran. Fleischer, whom Steinschneider calls “my teacher,”3 had compiled a catalogue of the Oriental manuscripts in the Royal Library at Dresden4 and had authored an account of the Arabic, Turkish and Persian manuscripts at the municipal library in Leipzig.5 These may have inspired the young Arabist to later undertake the task of cataloguing Hebrew manuscripts. At Leipzig he also studied with Fleischer’s student, the Lutheran theologian and Hebraist Franz Delitzsch (1813–1890), with whom he collaborated in editing the Karaite Aaron ben Elijah’s Etz ayyim (1841). This philosophical work, modeled after Maimonides’ Guide for the Perplexed,6 introduced him to the study of the intellectual relations between Jews and Muslims. Delitzsch was also interested in the early Arabic poetry of the Jews, an area of research that features in Stein- schneider’s ﬁrst fruits.7 Using Delitzsch’s German translation of the Koran, Steinschneider began what was to be one of his ﬁrst important translations from the Arabic: an Arabized Hebrew rendition of the Koran, which would, in Mendelssohnian spirit, facilitate the study of

3 M. Steinschneider, “An Introduction to the Arabic Literature of the Jews,” JQR 13 (1901): 475. On Fleischer and Steinschneider, see I. Schorsch, “Converging Cog- nates: The Intersection of Jewish and Islamic Studies in Nineteenth Century Ger- many,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 55 (2010): 3–36, on pp. 15–18. 4 H. Fleischer, Catalogus Codicum Manuscriptorum Orientalium Bibliothecae Regiae Dresden- sis (Leipzig: F.C. G. Vogel, 1831). 5 H. Fleischer & F. Delitzsch, Codices Orientalium Linguarum qui in Bibliotheca Senatoria Civitatis Lipsiensis asservantur (Grimma: Gebhardt, 1838; reprint Osnabrück, 1985). 6 Etz ayyim, Ahron ben Elias aus Nikomedien des Karäer’s System der Religionsphilosophie, eds. F. Delitzsch and M. Steinschneider (Leipzig: J.A. Barth, 1841). The Austrian censorship rules did not permit the publication of Steinschneider’s name as co-editor. 7 Cf. F. Delitzsch, Jüdisch-arabische Poesien aus vormuhammedanischer Zeit (Leipzig: Dörff- ling, 1874). moritz steinschneider’s contribution 365 the Koran for Jews. He subsequently abandoned this project upon the appearance of Hermann Reckendorf ’s Hebrew translation in 1857 in Leipzig.8 Having finally obtained a passport, Steinschneider proceeded in 1839 to Berlin, where he attended the university lectures of Franz Bopp (1791–1867) on comparative philology and the history of Ori- ental literatures. At the same time he made the acquaintance of the Judaic scholars Leopold Zunz (1794–1886) and Abraham Geiger (1810–1874). By 1839 his command of Arabic language and literature was sufficiently proficient for him to have accepted the invitation to collaborate on the second edition of Heinrich Pierer’s Universal- Lexikon,9 composing the entries relating, inter alia, to Arabic Language and Literature, the Koran, Muslim religion, and Muslim sects—an indication of his remarkable precociousness, for Steinschneider was barely 23 years old at the time. Similarly, his interest in the specific area of Judaeo-Arabic letters came to the fore very soon in his writings with two early articles devoted to the first known Judaeo-Arabic poet, Samuel ibn Adiya (Samawal Ibn Adiya).10 It was as if the future author of the Arabische Literatur der Juden had symbolically laid the foundation stone for his important work, which begins with an entry on Ibn Adiya.11 Almost simultaneously, he was writing about the Judaeo-Arabic maqâma literature,12 and in 1845, at the same time as the Orientalist Gustav Weil (1808–1889) published his researches,13 he was one of the first scholars to discuss the

8 He himself relates this in the Introduction to his Arab. Lit., pp. xlvi–xlvii. 9 Altenburg: Verlagsbuchhandlung von H. A. Pierer, 1839–44. 10 M. Steinschneider, “Samuel b. Adija der arabischer Dichter,” Literaturblatt des Orients 4 (1843): 189; “Zur älteren Geschichte der Juden in Arabien,” Litteraturblatt des Orients 4 (1843): 235. 11 Arab. Lit., §2, pp. 3–5. He is followed in this by Carl Brockelmann (1868–1956), who in the opening chapters of his Geschichte der arabischen Literatur, vol. I (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1942), pp. 19–23, also devotes a few pages to the pre-Islamic Jewish and Christian poets. Curiously he mentions Delitzsch’s study, but not Steinschneider s. He does, however, mention Steinschneider throughout his volumes (cf. Supplementband III, p. 1187) but not as copiously as F. Sezgin in his Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums, 11 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 1967–95). 12 M. Steinschneider, “Die Bürgschaft. Eine Makame aus dem Arabischen über- setzt und dem Original nachgebildet,” Magazin für die Literatur des Auslandes 27 (1845): 105–106. 13 G. Weil, Biblische Legenden der Muselmänner. Aus arabischen Quellen zusammengetragen und mit jüdischen Sagen verglichen (Frankfurt a.M.: Literarische Anstalt, 1845). 366 paul b. fenton relationship between Muslim and rabbinic legends, which became a main pursuit of Koranic studies in the second half of the 19th century.14

The Bibliotheca Judaeo-Arabica—The Project

Moreover, in 1845 he also conceived of his early project concerning the Jewish contribution to the literary creativity of the Middle Ages. Thus the latter was, so to speak, the ambition of his youth—to investigate the relationship of Jews to their cultural environment, paying special attention to the Arabic and Islamic context. While Leopold Zunz was laying the modern foundations of the critical investigation of Jewish bibliography in his Zur Geschichte und Literatur (1845), Stein- schneider sought to ﬁll in the blanks by providing a systematic survey of Jewish literature down the ages. In order to display Judaism’s share in the general history of civilization (“Kulturgeschichte”), he envisaged ﬁelds far removed from the theological and biblical themes which had preoccupied his predecessors, and embraced within his purview philology, mathematics, natural history, and medicine. In fact, also in that same year, Steinschneider submitted to the Ber- lin Verein fur Kultur und Wissenschaft der Juden15 his magisterial project of a Jüdisch-Arabische Bibliothek. The latter was well received and he obtained a subvention of 100 thalers, apparently the only material aid for a literary undertaking he ever secured.16 The work was to be divided into three parts:

1) a chronological survey of Jewish literature arranged by author, 2) a survey of Jewish translations from Arabic and 3) a survey of religious polemics between Judaism and Islam.

The second part came to fruition in Steinschneider’s monumental work Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen (1893), which is dealt with by Gad Freudenthal’s essay in the present volume. The third part, which also

14 M. Steinschneider, “Etwas über das Verhältnis der muhamedanischen Legende zur rabbinischen,” Mitteilungen für die Literatur des Auslandes 27 (1845): 286–288. 15 The name was adopted in 1821 by the association that first called itself the “Wissenschaftszirkel” in 1816 and then the “Verein zur Verbesserung des Zustandes der Juden im deutschen Bundesstaate” in 1819. Sebastian Panwitz, Die Gesellschaft der Freunde 1792–1935. Berliner Juden zwischen Aufklärung und Hochfinanz (Hildesheim: Olms, 2007), p. 92. 16 Cf. Introduction to his Arab. Lit., p. xlvii. moritz steinschneider’s contribution 367 reflected Steinschneider’s special interest in the relationship between Judaism and Islam, materialized in his Polemische Literatur (1877), as well as in his translation and annotated edition of Solomon ben Zemah Duran’s 15th-century anti-Islamic polemic Qeshet u-magen.17

Apparently, the ﬁrst part, the Bibliotheca Judaeo-Arabica,18 was ready to go to press in 1845. It contained a short biographical notice on each author arranged chronologically; an account of their works, including details of available manuscripts and translations, followed by an alphabetical list of titles, mainly culled from unpublished sources. However, this part only materialized sixty years later with the appearance in Frankfurt am Main in 1902 of his Arabische Literatur der Juden, which Steinschneider rightly calls in its Foreword (p. viii) his “life’s work.” Before going on to discuss the causes of this unusually long delay, it will be instructive to look at Steinschneider’s project in the light of 19th-century Orientalism.

The Nineteenth-Century Encylopaedists

Steinschneider’s undertaking is ﬁrstly to be viewed in the spirit of the 18th- and 19th-century encylopaedists. This trend had begun with the Western European dictionaries of classical literature and philosophy, such as Johan Albert Fabricius’ Bibliotheca latina (1697), Bibliotheca graeca (1705–28), and Bibliotheca ecclesiastica (1718), and Theodor Christian Enslin’s Bibliotheca philosophica (1824). In the domain of Arabic literature this genre had been initiated by Barthélemy d’Herbelot’s Bibliothèque Orientale (Paris, 1679),19 whose work was largely based on the Kashf az-zunûn by the Ottoman encyclopaedist Hadji Khalîfa (1608–1657). Steinschneider’s remote model may have been Christian Friedrich Schnurrer’s Bibliotheca arabica (1811), especially his 100-page chapter

17 “Islam und Judenthum. Kritik des Islam von Simon Duran (1423), aus dem Hebräischen übersetzt,” Magazin für die Wissenschaft des Judenthums 7 (1881): 1–48 and “Beilage” [= supplement]. 18 This is how Steinschneider calls it in his article: “Introduction,” JQR 13 (1901): 224. 19 For a study of this groundbreaking work, see Henry Laurens, Aux sources de l’orientalisme: la Bibliothèque Orientale de Barthélemi d’Herbelot. [Publications du dépar- tement d’Islamologie de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne (Paris IV), 6] (Paris: Maison- neuve et Larose, 1978). 368 paul b. fenton on Christiano-Arabica.20 Schnurrer (1742–1822) numbers each entry but, surprisingly, includes no Arabic books written by Jewish authors.21 Schnurrer’s labors were followed by those of Julius Theodor Zenker (1811–1884), whose Bibliotheca orientalis (1846–61) included an exhaustive list of all known works in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish. In the ﬁeld of Hebrew studies, the ancestor of this genre was the four-volume Bib- liotheca Magna Rabbinica (Rome: 1675–93) by Giulio Bartolocci (1613– 1687), which served as the basis for the Bibliotheca Hebraea (Hamburg: 1715–33) by Johann Christoph Wolf (1683–1739). The genre culminated in the three-volume Bibliotheca Judaica (1849–63) by Julius Fürst (1805–1873).22 Mention should also be made of the appearance in the 19th century of Arabic specialized biographical dictionaries, such as Gustav Flügel’s edition of Ibn Nadim’s Fihrist23 and August Müller’s edition of Ibn Abi Usaybi‘a’s History of Arab Physicians.24 Steinschneider’s immediate model, as indeed he himself admits, was the Geschichte der arabischen Ärzte und Naturforscher (1840) by (Heinrich) Ferdinand Wüsten- feld (1808–1899).25 Interestingly, in contrast to Steinschneider’s history of Jewish-Arabic letters, no equivalent work relating to Christian Ara- bic literature was compiled before that of Georg Graf (1875–1955), which ﬁnally appeared only in 1944–53!26 Attention should also be called to the impetus given to Arabic studies by the publication of multiple catalogues of important manuscript collections in the course of the 19th century. Steinschneider himself was responsible for the catalogues of some of the outstanding Judaica collections in Western libraries. These include: Leiden (1858), Munich (1875; 2nd ed. 1896), Hamburg (1878), and Berlin (1878–97), as well

20 Published in Halle: Hendel, 1811; reprint Amsterdam: Oriental Press, 1968. The chapter mentioned is on pp. 231–335. 21 With the exception of No. 327 (pp. 360–361): Erpenius’ Pentateuchus Mosis Arabicè (Leiden, 1622) in the Bible section, and No. 411 (pp. 475–477): Maimonides’ Porta Mosis in the varia section. The sections include: grammars, dictionaries, poetry, histories, Koran, Christiana, Biblia, and varia. 22 Bibliotheca Judaica. Bibliographisches Handbuch der gesammten jüdischen Literatur . . . (Leip- zig: Engelmann, 1849–63; 2-vol. reprint Hildesheim: Olms, 1960). 23 Kitâb al-Fihrist mit Anmerkungen, ed. Gustav Flügel (Leipzig: Vogel, 1871). 24 Uyûn al-anbâ f î tabaqât al-atibba (Königsberg, 1884; reprint Beirut, 1965). 25 Published in Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1840. S. Poznański, Zur juedisch-arabischen Litteratur (Berlin: Peiser, 1904), p. 2, however, compares Steinschneider’s conception of Arab. Lit. to Wüstenfeld’s earlier Geschichtsschreiber der Araber und ihre Werke (Göttingen: Dieterich, 1882). 26 G. Graf, Geschichte der christlichen arabischen Literatur (Vatican City: Bibliotheca Apostolica Vaticana, 1944 53), 5 vols. moritz steinschneider’s contribution 369 as his manuscript and sale catalogues or addenda to smaller collections, which also contained Judaeo-Arabic material.27 His observations in Otzar ha-sefarim (1880) by Isaac Benjacob (1801–1863),28 starting with the very ﬁrst entry, also carry many valuable bibliographic notes concerning Judaeo-Arabic. His Bodleian catalogue of printed books (= CB, 1852–60), which laid the foundation of his reputation as the greatest Jewish bibliographer, was no mere book inventory but embraced the whole breadth of Jewish literature, including all the data relating to the books and their authors, with discussions and solutions of many literary problems.29

Judaeo-Arabic Studies Prior to Steinschneider

At the time Steinschneider conceived of his Bibliotheca Judaeo-Arabica, the field was almost a terra incognita. Steinschneider has to be seen, however, in the context of his time and in particular against the background of trends in European Orientalism. This is not the place to give a full overview of 19th-century scholarship in the area of Judaeo-Arabic studies, so I will content myself with providing just a broad outline. The academic study of this literature, nurtured by post-Reformation trends and interest in Arabic Bible translations, was at first closely bound to biblical studies and especially biblical philology.30 With the notable exception of Edward Pococke’s (1606–1691) Porta Mosis (1655), an annotated edition of six sections of Maimonides’ Arabic commentary on the Mishnah—the first work printed in Hebrew characters in Oxford—, the publication of Judaeo- Arabic texts did not get under way until the 18th century. The second half of that century and the earlier part of the 19th witnessed a host of studies predominantly devoted to Saadiah’s translations of various

27 Such as “Die Tischendorf ’schen Handschriften,” HB 1 (1858): 18–21, 70–71, 105–106; 2 (1859): 92–93; 4 (1861): 45–48; 5 (1862): 49–54; Léon Saraval (Trieste, 1853), Adolf Asher (Berlin, 1868), Julius Benzian (Berlin, 1869), Joseph Zedner (Berlin, 1872), Mordecai Ghirondi (Berlin, 1872) Solomon Halberstam (Vienna, 1890). 28 Published in Vilnius: Romm, 1880; reprint New York, 1965. 29 Many such literary problems are also clarified in his Pseud. Lit. (1862), Pol. Lit. (1877), and HÜ (1893). 30 P. Fenton, “Judaeo-Arabic Literature,” in M. J. L. Young, J. D. Latham and R. B. Serjeant, The Cambridge History of Arabic Literature: Religion, Learning and Science in the Abbasid Period (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991) pp. 461–476. 370 paul b. fenton biblical texts. Thus the French Orientalist Jean Gagnier (1670–1740) published a specimen of Saadiah’s Kitâb al-amânât in Arabic characters (1711)31 and the German Heinrich Paulus (1761–1851), professor at Heidelberg, produced Saadiah’s version of Isaiah32 from a manuscript in Oxford’s Bodleian Library, which was then the largest repository of Jewish manuscripts in the world. He transliterated the Hebrew characters into Arabic ones, with many errors, which Johann Gottfried Eichhorn (1752–1827), professor of Oriental languages at Jena, subsequently endeavored to correct.33 It is not improbable that this attention given to Saadiah aroused the interest of Solomon Munk (1803–1867), who is to be considered the veritable father of Judaeo-Arabic studies. Besides his essay on Saadiah,34 Munk authored a few pioneering studies on Judaeo-Arabic writers, mainly based on unpublished manuscript sources that were at first supplied to him by one of his former Berlin students residing at Oxford. But in August 1835 Munk himself visited the Bodlei an library with a view to preparing “an important contribution to Jew- ish studies.”35 As far as we are aware, he was the first scholar to make use of Muslim accounts of Jewish authors. As Steinschneider admits, Munk’s studies, the most significant of which were on Joseph

31 According to Steinschneider (Arab. Lit., p. 52), even the Bodleian does not possess a copy of this rare print. However, Gagnier’s Arabic transcript and Latin notes on Saadiah’s Amânât can be found in Oxford, in one of the College Library collections, which were catalogued by Adolf Neubauer (1831–1907) in 1886 together with the Bodleian Library’s Hebrew MSS. See Neubauer 1223. Cf. also Neubauer 2197, Gagnier’s transcript of Tafsîr a-alât. 32 Rabbi Saadiae Phiumensis versio Iesaiae Arabica ( Jena: Cuno, 1790). 33 Johann Gottfried Eichhorn’s Allgemeine Bibliothek der biblischen Litteratur, vol. 3 (Leipzig: Wiedmann, 1790). It is also noteworthy that in the following volume, Schnurrer published selected excerpts from Saadiah’s Arabic translation of the Psalms in Arabic characters, Allgemeine Bibliothek, 1791, pp. 425–438. Mention can be made, too, of Christian David Breithaupt (1770–1854), Commentationis in Saadianam Versionem Jesaiae arabicam (Rostock: Stiller, 1819), who gives a Latin translation of Paulus’ version with critical notes containing Arabic words transcribed into Latin characters. 34 S. Munk, “Notice sur Rabbi Saadia Gaon, et sa version arabe d’Isaïe, et sur une version persane manuscrite de la bibliothèque royale,” in La Bible, new tr., eds. Samuel Cahen et alia, vol. 9 (Paris: 1838), pp. 73–155, where he, too, making use of his notes taken in Oxford, corrects and comments on Paulus’ text (pp. 101–134, Part II: ‘version arabe d’Isaïe’). This essay also appeared in book form: Notice sur R. Saadiah Gaon (Paris, 1838), where Paulus’ text is dealt with on pp. 29–62. 35 Moïse Schwab, Salomon Munk, membre de l’Institut et Professeur au Collège de France. Sa vie et ses oeuvres (Paris: E. Leroux, 1900), pp. 66–67. moritz steinschneider’s contribution 371 al-Maghribi and Ibn Janah,36 made a profound impression upon him and induced him to come to Oxford.37 The fluctuations of Judaeo-Arabic studies have often been stirred by the waves of manuscripts that flowed into Western libraries through the efforts and endowments of European diplomats and travelers to the East. After Saadiah, considerable interest was aroused in Tanum Yerushalmi (c. 1220–1291), prompted less by the latter’s intrinsic value, an otherwise secondary figure in Judaeo-Arabic letters, than by the availability of manuscripts of his works in Western libraries. E. Pococke acquired them in Syria for the Bodleian Library, where they gave rise to an impressive series of publications initiated by none other than Christian Friedrich Schnurrer, author of the Bibliotheca Arabica, who edited part of Tanum’s commentary on Judges (1791).38 From the same manuscript source, Ber Goldberg (1800–1884) published invaluable Judaeo-Arabic material, mainly relating to the Maimonides family.39 Interest in Karaism had long been limited to polemical texts in Hebrew until Solomon Munk acquired a considerable number of Karaite Judaeo-Arabic manuscripts during his mission to the East in 1839 in connection with the Damascus Affair. They served as the basis for the pioneering publications by the French scholar Jean Bargès (1810–1896), who, as early as 1846, issued Yefet b. Ali’s Commen- tary on the Psalms.40 The acquisition of the Firkovitch collection by the Imperial Library in St. Petersburg provided a host of historical material for Jewish scholars who were Steinschneider’s contemporaries, such as Abraham Harkavy (1835–1919) and Simhah Pinsker (1801–1864). Finally, four outstanding masterpieces of Judaeo-Arabic

36 “Notice sur Joseph ben-Iehouda,” Journal asiatique ( July 1842): 5–70; “Notice sur Abou’l-Walid Merwan Ibn Djanah, et quelques autres grammairiens hébreux du Xe et du XIe siècle,” Journal asiatique (1850): I, 297–337; II, 5–50; 201–247; 353–427 and (1851): I, 85–93. 37 JQR 9 (1897): 224. 38 Tanum’s commentary on Lamentations (London, 1843) was produced by William Cureton (1808–1864), the one on Habakkuk (Paris, 1843) by Solomon Munk, and the ones on Samuel and Kings (Berlin, 1844) and First Prophets (Berlin, 1862) were edited by Theodor Haarbrücker (1818–1880). Even the second-generation Wis- senschaft des Judenthums scholar Ignaz Goldziher (1850–1921) devoted his Inaugural Dissertation to Studien ueber Tanchum Jeruschalmi (Leipzig: Drugulin, 1870). 39 Such as his edition of Daniel Ibn Mâshita’s strictures on Maimonides’ Code, and Abraham Maimonides’ replies, Birkhat Abraham (Lyck: Petzall, 1859) and Maaseh Nissim (Paris: Y. Brill, 1867). 40 Jean Bargès, Rabbi Yapheth ben Heli Bassorensis Karaitae in Librum Psalmorum Com- mentarii Arabici (Paris: Didot, 1846). 372 paul b. fenton literature appeared in the second half of the 19th century: Solomon Munk’s monumental edition and translation of Maimonides’ Guide;41 the edition, in Arabic characters, of Ibn Janah’s Hebrew-Arabic dictionary edited by Adolf Neubauer (1837–1901);42 an edition in Arabic script of Saadiah’s Kitâb al-âmânât by Samuel Landauer (1846–1937);43 and Saadiah’s Œuvres complètes (Paris, 1893–1900), synchronized at the initiative of Joseph Derenbourg (1811–1895) to coincide with the millennium of the Gaon’s birth.

The Cause of the Delay

Although these publications provided a clearer idea of the real breadth and diversity of Judaeo-Arabic literature, they were “lopsided” and “piecemeal” and, despite their seriousness, sometimes lacked an awareness of what was really important in the field. The religious and biblical focus prevailed and disproportionate attention had been paid to secondary figures, such as the late-13th-century exegete Tanum Yerushalmi. Steinschneider proposed to construct an overall perspective of the field, arranged chronologically, in order to show the gradual development of Jewish literary creativeness in the Arabic language as an organic entity. But just as Steinschneider was about to embark upon his project, the scope of Judaeo-Arabic studies started to broaden in an unprecedented way, which had to be taken into account. With a large part of the groundwork for the furtherance of the field still to be accomplished in the form of manuscript catalogues, the future author of the Bibliotheca realized that his task was premature. But there was a more formidable cause for the delay in the Bibliotheca’s composition, as Steinschneider himself reports in the Introduction to his long essay on the Arabic literature of the Jews.44 Early on in his project he was “highjacked” into another task. In 1850 he was recommended by L. Zunz to work on a catalogue of the Hebrew printed books preserved at the Bodleian Library Oxford,

41 S. Munk, Dalâlat-al-hâirîn (Paris: A. Franck 1853). 42 A. Neubauer, Book of Hebrew Roots by Abu’l-Walîd Marwân Ibn Janâh (Oxford: Clar- endon Press 1875). 43 Kitâb al-Amânât wa’lI’tiqâdât von Saadja b. Jûsuf al-Fajjûmî, ed. S. Landauer (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1880). 44 M. Steinschneider, “Introduction,” JQR 9 (1897): 224–225. moritz steinschneider’s contribution 373 then the greatest existing collection of Hebraica. It took Steinschneider approximately a decade to complete what was undoubtedly his magnum opus, the Catalogus Librorum Hebraicarum in Bibliotheca Bodleiana (1852–1860), which elevated Hebrew bibliography to an unprecedented scholarly level. Written in Latin, the learned language of the time, this publication, running to seventeen hundred and fifty pages of double columns, was not just a mere catalogue. Listing authors alphabetically, it includes a discussion of their many literary problems as well as all known secondary references to these authors and their works, many culled from manuscripts. While perusing the latter, Steinschneider became convinced that the publication of his planned Bibliotheca Judaeo-Arabica, based on incomplete and unreliable information from the available printed catalogues, would be unwise. The necessity of consulting at first hand the manuscripts themselves was now clear to him. Now many of the entries he composed for the Catalogus Librorum Hebraicarum already form the substance of his Arabische Literatur der Juden. For example, the article on Saadiah Gaon covers columns 2155–2224—over 70 pages—and includes unpublished excerpts, his discovery and identification of the long lost Siddur of Saadiah, and ends with an index of the manuscripts consulted.

The Intervening Years

Though the Bibliotheca Judaeo-Arabica had long been mapped out, Steinschneider painstakingly filled in the gaps of this encyclopaedic composition over the decades. Much information would appear meanwhile in his numerous scientific articles which regularly reported on his literary investigations. The center of the latter was always the relation of Jews to general culture, not only to specifically Jewish subjects. Nonetheless, his studies led him to all branches of Jewish learning, and he was the first, in 1848, to undertake a history of Jewish literature, which even the great Zunz had declined to do. His monumental survey of the history of general Jewish literature appeared in Ersch and Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopaedie der Wissenschaften und Künste, published in 1845–57.45 Here he demonstrated his mastery of all the literary

45 JL/G, pp. 357–471. 374 paul b. fenton branches, which had never before been systematically treated, but the essay had engrossed all his efforts for a considerable time. The chapter devoted therein to the second period,46 which covers seven centuries, is virtually a survey of Judaeo-Arabic literature divided into 15 categories, inter alia, on halakha, history, theology and philosophy, including a chapter on the earliest Jewish writings of Arabia. Soon afterwards, the appearance of Solomon Munk’s precious notes on Judaeo-Arabic authors, based on manuscripts in Paris and Oxford (referred to above), induced Steinschneider to publish a string of smaller studies in the form of monographs, articles and notes. These were to appear in sixty different periodicals and especially in the pages of his Hebräische Bibliographie, and in his various catalogues—especially those of Leiden and Berlin. In these he frequently reported on his discoveries relating to Judaeo-Arabic literature, right down to the time of the extraordinary uncovering of the Cairo Genizah, of which he was also one of the first scholars to make use. His studies shed light either on individual authors, such as his trail-blazing clarification of Maimo- nides’ medical writings,47 or on the works of their descendants.48 At times, Steinschneider realized the importance of key personalities long before they attracted the attention they deserved by later scholars, while other accounts by him would remain the only assessment of such figures to this day. For instance, after having reviewed Munk’s famous “Notice sur Joseph ben Iehouda” as early as 1845,49 Steinschneider wrote no less than three further studies on his mistaken namesake Joseph Ibn Aqnin.50 He unearthed Al-arizi’s Arabic introduction to the Takemoni,51 threw light on little known works, such as Isaac Israeli’s Treatise on Spirit and Soul,52 underlined the significance of homiletic

46 JL/G, pp. 384–447. Subsequently translated into English as JL/E. 47 “Medicinische Schriften von Maimonides,” Oesterreichische Blätter für Literatur und Kunst (1844), nos. 12, 14, 15, 57, 58, 63. 48 “Zur Literatur der Maimoniden,” HB 4 (1863): 114–116, and 19 (1879): 110–115. 49 Zeitschrift für die religiösen Interessen des Judenthums 2 (1845): 76, 108. 50 M. Steinschneider, “Josef ibn Aknin,” Ersch and Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopaedie der Wissenschaften und Künste 31 (1855), pp. 45–58; HB 13 (1873): 38–43; “Analecten,” MfWJ 15 (1888): 105–112; Arab. Lit., § 170; and Ges. Schr., pp. 35–89. 51 Bollettino Italiano degli studi orientali 4 (1879): 409–414. 52 Karmel N.S. I (1872): 400. Cf. also HB 12 (1872): 57 and MGWJ 44 (1900): 529. moritz steinschneider’s contribution 375 literature in Arabic,53 and drew attention to the North-African Orien- talist Mordekhay an-Najjâr.54 Of singular signiﬁcance is the study he devoted to Joseph Ibn Waqâr, who wrote in Arabic on the kabbalah, a subject which was held in disdain by many of his contemporaries.55 He was the ﬁrst to pay attention to Judaeo-Arabic literature from Yemen, dealing with such authors as Abraham b. Salomon,56 David al-Adani,57 Netanael b. Isaiah and Zekhariyah b. Solomon,58 without neglecting Karaite works.59 These embraced such recondite interests as Karaite rules in Arabic for ritual slaughter.60 His attention was caught by unusual subjects such as pseudepigraphical, medical, and polemical writings and he was quick to grasp the importance of references to Jews in Muslim unpublished manuscripts and biographical dictionaries, such as Ibn Khallikân’s (1211–1282) Wafayât al-ayân.61 These he used, for example, in his study on Jew- ish physicians in Muslim lands, although this is more a contribution to Arabic literature. Many were extracts concerning Judaeo-Arabic authors relating to areas of Arabic literature which had hitherto been neglected, or even disparaged: pseudosciences, alchemy, astrology,

53 In his chapter on Arabic homilies in Meyer Kayserling’s 2-vol. Bibliothek juedischer Kanzelredner, 1 (Berlin: J. Springer, 1870), pp. 34–35; 2 (Berlin: J. Springer 1872), pp. 1–5, 18–19, 33–37. 54 HB 16 (1876): 191. See now P. B. Fenton, “Mardochée Najjar: un Juif tunisien à Paris au début du XIXe siècle,” in D. Cohen-Tannoudji (ed.), Entre Orient et Occident: Juifs et musulmans en Tunisie (Paris: Éditions de l’Éclat, 2007), pp. 77–114. 55 “Josef ibn Wakkar,” Ersch and Gruber’s Allgemeine Encyklopädie 31 (1855), p. 100. It is very strange that in this work Steinschneider only wrote entries for Jewish authors whose names began with G, J, or K, and even stranger still that, of all authors, he should have specifically chosen to deal with Ibn Waqqâr! Cf. also Zeitschrift für Hebraeische Bibliographie 3 (1898): 29. See now P.B. Fenton, Rabbi Joseph b. Abraham Ibn Waqâr, Principles of the Qabbalah (Los Angeles: Cherub Press, 2004) [Sources and Studies in the Literature of Jewish Mysticism 14]. 56 HB 19 (1878): 130–136; 20 (1879): 7–12, 39–42, 61–65. 57 “Schlachtregeln in arabischer Sprache, XII. Jahrhundert,” Juedische Zeitschrift fuer Wissenschaft und Leben 1 (1862): 232–243, 304–318; 2 (1863): 76–80, 297–310; 3 (1864–1865): 305–306; 4 (1866): 155–160. 58 HB 13 (1872): 54–60. 59 HB 11 (1870): 9, 37, 90, 119; 17 (1876): 108; 20 (1879): 69, 91, 121. 60 “Schlachtregeln,” JZWL. See Note 57 above. 61 “Jüdische Aerzte unter den Arabern,” HB 12 (1872): 129–131; 13 (1874): 61–63; 15 (1875): 129–132; 16 (1876): 9–12, using, inter alia, F. Wüstenfeld’s edition of Ibn Challikani Vitae illustrium virorum (Göttingen: 1835–43). 376 paul b. fenton and even the account of the Oriental underworld by the 13th-century author Jawbari.62 While dealing, too, with general Arabic authors he does not omit to point out their influence on Jewish writers. Only Steinschneider was capable of specifying that al-Fârâbi was first mentioned in Jewish literature by Moses Ibn Ezra in his Maqâlat al-adîqa.63 Steinschneider’s bibliography in this period also contains a few random communications on Muslim literature copied into Hebrew characters,64 a subject which he later developed into a 50-page study: “Schriften der Araber in hebräischen Handschriften.”65 In his view, this last category, which he pioneered, was the ultimate external yard- stick by which one could gauge what was of abiding importance in Arabic literature—at least for Jews. One should also not underestimate the importance in this connection of Steinschneider’s book reviews of studies and editions of Judaeo- Arabic authors and even “Inaugural Dissertations,” such as that of David Herzog’s Inaugural Dissertation: Maimonides zum Tractat Peah (1895).66 These constitute a running commentary on the discipline spanning several decades. Practically all of them, especially those that appeared in the Hebraeische Bibliographie, are teeming with references to Arabic and Judaeo-Arabic culture. We can only list chronologically a few of the most outstanding ones to serve as an indication: for example, his review of I. Goldziher’s Ueber Tanchum Yeruschalmi (1870);67 S. Landauer’s Kitâb al-amânât (1880);68 Wilhem Bacher’s (1850–1913) Leben und Werke des Abulwalîd Merwan Ibn Gānāh und die Quellen seiner Schrifterklärung (1885) and his Aus der Schrifterklärung des Abulwalîd Merwân Ibn Gânâh (1890);69 D. S. Margoliouth’s edition of Yefet ben Ali’s Com- mentary on Daniel (1890);70 Meyer Lambert’s Commentaire de Saadia sur le

62 “Gauberi’s ‘entdeckte Geheimnisse’, eine Quelle für orientalische Sittenschilde- rung,” ZDMG 19 (1865): 562–577. 63 Alf., p. 70. 64 “Zur Literatur (Arabische Handschriften von Juden),” Jeschurun 5 (1866): 179– 189 and “Mss. Arabici in caratteri ebraici,” Bollettino italiano degli studi orientali 2 (1877): 65–69, 82–87, 128–134, 333–338, 361–369. 65 ZDMG 47 (1893): 335–384. 66 Deutsche Literaturzeitung (1895): 103–104. 67 HB 10 (1870): 111. 68 Deutsche Literaturzeitung (1881): 1186. 69 Deutsche Literaturzeitung (1885): 1582–3 and (1890): 340. 70 Das Archiv 2 (1890): 120. moritz steinschneider’s contribution 377

Sefer Yezirah (1892);71 and S. Poznański’s Mose b. Samuel Hakkohen Ibn Chiquitilla nebst den erhaltenen Fragmenten seiner Schriften (1895).72

From the Bibliotheca Judaeo-Arabica to the Arabische Literatur der Juden

After this general overview of Steinschneider’s contribution to the field of Judeo-Arabic studies, of which many items are also signal contributions to general Arabic letters, I would like to discuss his Bibliotheca Judaeo-Arabica as it eventually materialized in the form of the Arabische Literatur der Juden, which, as mentioned, appeared only after great delay in 1902. However, before its final appearance, its author had produced two partial previews: as already noted, much space is devoted to Judaeo-Arabic literature, first, in his Ersch und Gruber entry and, second, in his study “An Introduction to the Arabic Literature of the Jews,” which appeared 1897–1901 in the Jewish Quarterly Review. This lengthy essay is a sort of voluminous introduction to the Arabische Lit- erature der Juden.73 Unlike his generally brief articles in the Hebraeische Bibliographie, this was a full study covering 382 pages of close type and encompassing a strange mixture of heteroclite themes. Nonetheless, its conception was very different from that of the Arabische Literatur der Juden, and it discusses many theoretical and historical phenomena.74 A brief introduction explains the circumstances of Steinschneider’s undertaking. The essay itself is divided into two parts, the first of which is rather unexpectedly devoted to a masterful 250-page study of Jewish names found in Arabic literature, with references to their occurrence and, occasionally, an explanation of their meaning, plus a supplement of 20 pages of corrections and additions. With the slight exception of

71 Deutsche Literaturzeitung (1892): 148–149. It will be recalled that Steinschneider himself wrote on pseudo-Saadiah’s commentary on Sefer Yezîrâh in MfWJ 19 (1892): 79–85. 72 Deutsche Literaturzeitung (1895): 1035–6. 73 One of Steinschneider’s few publications in English, it appeared in JQR 9–13 (1897–1901). It has recently been reprinted as a book: Moritz Steinschneider, Jewish Arabic Literature: An Introduction (Piscataway NJ: Gorgias Press, 2008). 74 It apparently developed out of a series of lectures given over the years at the Veitel-Heine-Ephraim’sche Lehranstalt, where Steinschneider had taught since 1859. In his bibliography of Steinschneider’s writings (Festschrift . . . M. Steinschneider [ Berlin, 1896]), p. vii, G. Kohut reports the existence of a German version of the text. 378 paul b. fenton

Maurice Eisenbeth’s repertoire of Jewish names in North Africa,75 this vast essay still remains today without sequel. Part Two runs to a hundred pages and is concerned with the history and context of the Jewish experience in the Arabic-speaking world. It contains informed discussions of such topics as the extent of Ara- bic usage among the Jews; the status of Jews and Christians under Islamic law; Jewish knowledge of different genres of Arabic literature; Muslim writings in Hebrew characters and Arabic works known to Jews; collections of Arabic books among Jews; the use of Arabic script among Jews; and the status of Jewish scholars in relation to their Mus- lim counterparts, especially in the ﬁeld of medicine and mathematics. Even the social interactions of the Jews with their Muslim and Chris- tian neighbors are rehearsed here, since he goes on to discuss the personal relations between Jews and Muslims, the particularities of the Arabic language used by the Jews, the literary and linguistic inﬂuences of Arabic on Jewish literature, including literary trends such as the maqâmât.76 Noteworthy is the ensuing discussion of Hebrew poetry and of Judaeo-Arabic writings in the areas of philology, exegesis, philosophy, dogmatics, polemics and halakhah. Throughout, Steinschneider’s thorough understanding of the Arabic literary tradition informs his discussion of its Jewish component(s).

Die Arabische Literatur der Juden

Some of these themes are rehearsed in the 50-page Introduction to the Arabische Literatur der Juden, which is very instructive in regard to Stein- schneider’s whole approach to his undertaking. The author deﬁnes his purpose as to demonstrate as objectively as possible the development of Jewish-Arabic literature under Islam. The body of the book is divided into seven sections: 1) Jewish authors in Ancient Arabia, 2) authors in the East until the end of the Geonic period (1040), 3) Jews in the Muslim West, 4) and those in the East (1041–1500), 5)

75 M. Eisenbeth, Les Juifs de l’Afrique du Nord, démographie et onomastique (Algiers: Imprimerie du Lycée , 1936; reprint 2000). See also his Le Judaïsme nord-africain. Etudes démographiques sur les Israélites du Département de Constantine (Constantine: Natanson, 1931). Eisenbeth does not seem to have been familiar with Steinschneider’s English-language text. 76 This, as pointed out above, had preoccupied Steinschneider very early on in his writings: “Die Bürgschaft. Eine Makame,” Magazin für die Literatur des Auslandes 27 (1845): 105–106. moritz steinschneider’s contribution 379 later writers (1500–1894), 6) authors of uncertain date, and 7) anonymous authors according to subject. Authors are arranged chronologically within these sections; for each, basic biographical details are provided, followed by the list of their works according to literary category, and, where applicable, the enumeration of printed editions or extant manuscripts. These in turn are followed by Steinschneider’s scholarly notes and sources. As in the Bodleian catalogue, the entries devoted to Saadiah Gaon and Maimonides are the most extensive. The main part is supplemented by seven appendices dealing with, inter alia, problematic authors, pseudo-Jews, and Samaritans, the whole followed by indices of authors, poets, translators, Arabic titles, Hebrew titles and manuscripts. The sheer wealth of specialized information is just overwhelming and ever since its publication, the Arabische Literature der Juden has become an indispensable tool for all who pursue research in the Judaeo-Arabic ﬁeld. No attempt will be made to analyze this work which, together with the author’s Hebraeische Übersetzungen, represents the highest scholarly achievement of the 19th-century Wissenschaft des Judenthums in terms of bibliographical research. No words can do justice to its extensive scholarship founded on decades of painstaking investigation and analysis. Besides, its appearance attracted the enthusiastic scrutiny of contemporary scholars, and his prime disciple Samuel Abraham Poznański (1864–1921) devoted to it a lengthy and thorough review, which in its book form ran to 88 pages.77 The criticisms that the great Judaeo-Arabist formulated ring even truer now than at the time. His opening words (p. 13) relate to the great change brought about in the Judaeo-Arabic discipline by the recent discovery of the Genizah. “A complete bibliographical composition is almost impossible, insofar as each day brings with it new material, especially nowadays when we live under the sign of the Geniza.” Indeed, Poznański’s addenda are mainly drawn from the Oxford Genizah material, which, as he himself observes, was the only collection to have been catalogued at the time. The Cairo Genizah had been discovered by S. Schechter a mere seven years before the Arabische Literatur’s publication and therefore Steinschneider had taken relatively little account of it. Obviously, its exploitation was still in its infancy, but there may have been another reason for this blatant absence. In an article published in 1906

77 Samuel Poznański, Zur juedisch-arabischen Litteratur (Berlin: Wolf Peiser Verlag, 1904). The review ﬁrst appeared in the Orientalische Litteratur-Zeitung VII, nos. 7–9. 380 paul b. fenton

Steischneider warns against “overestimating” (Überschätzung) the importance of Genizah finds, emphasizing the need not to confuse what is subjectively interesting with what is significant. For, in his conception, what is important is that which exerted influence, whereas in many cases the discarded fragments of the Genizah were found there precisely because they were no longer of importance. Therefore they were of little interest to the “overall picture of cultural history” in comparison with enduring books.78 He would disparagingly call the scholars who delved into Genizah research “fragmentary scholars.” However, many areas later came to light which he himself would have considered important cultural factors in the relationship of Jewish and Arab civilization, such as Jewish Mu‘tazilite or Judaeo-Sufi writings, just to mention these two. I am sure that Steinschneider would have been the first to integrate the host of new information provided by the Genizah’s evidence, be it in the domain of unknown Judaeo-Arabic authors or that of Muslim works copied into Hebrew characters. A second shortcoming that Poznański points out (p. 23) is Stein- schneider’s relative neglect of modern prints in vulgar Arabic, whose importance for exegetical, liturgical, homiletic and folk literature had already been underlined by W. Bacher as supplementing Stein- schneider’s Arabische Literature der Juden.79 The last quarter of the 19th century had witnessed the rise of the printing press in many of the cities of North Africa and the East, such as Algiers, Oran, Tunis, Alexan- dria, Jerusalem, Aleppo, Baghdad, Calcutta, Bombay, Poona and even Leghorn, which had produced the first popular Judaeo-Arabic prints, whose importance for Arabic dialectology, an undeveloped discipline in Steinschneider’s day, cannot be overestimated. However, the greatest setback of both Steinschneider’s introductory essay in English on the Arabic literature of the Jews and his German Arabische Literatur der Juden is that they are not books of cultural history for the general reader, but reference works for scholars. Neither provides an overall history of the subject in the way his initial article in the Ersch and Gruber Encyklopädie had set out to do, and neither coherently illustrates the progressive Jewish contribution to Islamic civilization as he himself had proposed to accomplish. For instance,

78 “Miszellen und Notizen. 92. Geniza,” ZfHB 10 (1906): 89–90. 79 W. Bacher, “Zur neuesten arabischen Literatur der Juden,” ZfHB 7 (1903): 87–91, 113–118, 148–155; 12 (1908): 174–184; 15 (1911): 44–46. moritz steinschneider’s contribution 381 the significance of the Jewish contributions in the fields of science and philosophy are obscured and obfuscated under thick layers of bibliographical data. While Steinschneider very often saw the authors and works that were indeed important, he remained unable to appreciate their total originality, especially in the area of philosophical texts, with the same acuity, say, as Solomon Munk, who also toiled with unpublished manuscript material. Nonetheless, with these pioneering works Moritz Steinschneider placed Judaeo-Arabic research on a firm foundation and, no doubt, expected future generations to build upon them.

Conclusion

Steinschneider’s Arabische Literatur der Juden has reigned supreme for over a century as an outstanding reference work. Already fifty years ago, in an article entitled “Suggestions for further studies in Judaeo- Arabic Literature” published in the Goldziher Memorial Volume, Solomon Skoss (1884–1953) expressed the need for a revised edition. We can do no better than to quote his words, which ring as true today as they did then: Another urgent need is a new and completely revised edition of Stein- schneider’s Die arabische Literatur der Juden (Frankfurt a. M. 1902), which would be of immense help to scholars interested in this literature. For forty-eight years this outstanding bibliographical work has become the standard guide of all scholars working in this field and quite an indispensable aid in their research. It is unquestionably an enduring monument to the amazingly wide bibliographical knowledge of its remarkable author. However, since the appearance of this great reference work several new collections of Judaeo-Arabic manuscripts have come into being, among them by far the most important is the great collection treasured in the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in New York, which includes also the very valuable Elkan Adler Collection of Mss. Many manuscripts of important works, hitherto considered lost, have been discovered and brought to light; several additional manuscripts of already known texts, extant in manuscripts only, have been published; a large part of the Geniza material at Cambridge and elsewhere has been carefully studied, and, finally, our general knowledge of Judaeo-Arabic literature has been greatly increased. In view of all these circumstances the urgent need of a new and thoroughly revised edition of the now antiquated Die arabische Literatur der Juden becomes quite evident.80

80 Ignace Goldziher Memorial Volume, eds. Samuel Löwinger et al., Part II ( Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1958), p. 47. 382 paul b. fenton

Indeed, since Steinschneider’s demise, many major collections of Judaeo-Arabic manuscripts have become available or better catalogued, such as those of the Jewish Theological Seminary, the Benaim Collec- tion, the general and Genizah collections of Oxford and Cambridge, of the Vatican and now St. Petersburg. Smaller collections, too, have been catalogued, such as those of Monteﬁore College, Spertus Col- lege, the Jacques Mosseri collection, the Bension collection, the Sutro Library, Yale University Library and the Ben-Zvi Institute, containing many Judaeo-Arabic and Yemenite manuscripts which only became known in recent decades. The words of Franz Rosenthal, writing in the same year as Skoss, can aptly serve as a conclusion to our study. The great historian of Islamic civilization makes a plea similar to that of his colleague for the updating of the Arabische Literatur der Juden. Observing that C. Brockel- mann’s Geschichte der arabische Literatur,81 which had been completed in 1902, the publication year of Steinschneider’s work, had been supplemented in the 1940s, and that G. Graf ’s Geschichte der christlichen arabischen Literature had grown out of a 75-page booklet82 to ﬁve impressive volumes83 published by 1953, he states: “This task is left to us. Especially in these days, it would seem necessary to remember the fundamental Jewish contribution to Islamic studies and to be guided by Steinschneider’s spirit of universal understanding.”84

81 First ed. published: Weimar/Berlin: Felber, 1898–1902. 82 G. Graf, Die christlich-arabische Literatur: bis zur fränkischen Zeit (Ende des 11. Jahrhun- derts); eine literarhistorische Skizze (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1905). 83 See Note 26 above. 84 F. Rosenthal, “Steinschneider’s contribution to the study of Muslim civilisation,” PAAJR 27 (1958): 81. 19. STEINSCHNEIDER AND YIDDISH

Diana Matut

In his famous essay entitled “Purim und Parodie,” Steinschneider wrote: The author [ Rapoport], who is well known as a historian, opposes in his introduction the Judeo-German Ahashverosh-play [. . .]; but it is in the nature of things that his elegant Hebrew could not reach the popularity of the living dialect, which has caricatured itself since then and became a repulsive jargon. With the more recent products of the latter I am not familiar. In the index to his book on this subject Mr. Wiener afﬁrms “Steinschneider’s ignorance.” [. . .] Jargon is something repulsive for me; I am leaving its study and everything related to it to those who were raised in it or think differently about it.1 One might be tempted to let the case of “Steinschneider and Yiddish” rest at this point, for it may seem that there is little to add about the Hebrew bibliographer’s attitude to the “repulsive jargon.” On closer scrutiny, however, it soon becomes clear that his terminology and views on the linguistic phenomenon we now call “Yiddish” are rather complex and that he contributed greatly to the world of Yiddish Stud- ies, even if he would not have expressed it so himself. Steinschneider, the thorough bibliographer, did not fall behind his usual erudite standards when dealing with Yiddish books and manuscripts. His essayistic works on Jewish literature, too, show a broad

1 “Der als Geschichtsforscher berühmte Verf. [ Rapoport] tritt in der Vorr. dem jüdisch-deutschen Achaschwerosch-Spiel entgegen [. . .]; doch liegt es in der Natur der Sache, dass sein gewähltes Hebräisch nicht die Volkstümlichkeit des lebenden Dialek- tes erzielen konnte, welcher sich seitdem zu einem widerlichen Jargon verkarrikiert hat.—Die neueren Produkte des letzteren kenne ich nicht. Hr. Wiener hat im Index zu seinem Buche darüber “Steinschneider’s Ignoranz” constatirt [. . .]. Jargon ist für mich etwas Widerliches; ich überlasse das Studium desselben, und was damit zusam- menhängt, denjenigen, die darin erzogen worden sind, oder ihn anders ansehen.” Steinschneider, “Purim und Parodie,” MGWJ 47 (1903): 84–85, 86. Steinschneider refers here to Leo Wiener’s A History of Yiddish Literature in the Nineteenth Century (Lon- don: C. Nimmo, 1899). There, Wiener had listed in the index (p. 400) the following entry: “Steinschneider, M., his ignorance of J[udeo] G[erman], 9; antipathy to J[udeo] G[erman], 13.” All translations from German into English, if not otherwise indicated, are the author’s. 384 diana matut knowledge of Yiddish sources, etymology and linguistics in general, as well as an awareness of contemporary debates about the language. In this essay I will argue that while Steinschneider indeed resented late (post-sixteenth- and seventeenth-century) Yiddish, he did have a positive view of the earlier periods with regard to the language and its literature.

1. Perspectives on Yiddish during Steinschneider’s Time

1.1. Awareness of Yiddish Much could be said about the nineteenth century—Steinschneider’s time—and Yiddish. In Eastern Europe the century would witness an incredible ﬂowering of secular Yiddish culture, unique in its size and scope. It saw the emergence of a modern Yiddish world that would become famous for its writers, theaters, composers, schools as well as the formation of great literary centers and groups. Concomitantly there arose a new, remarkable self-awareness and self-assurance among Jewish intellectuals, writers, publishers and political activists: many who had started writing in other languages returned to Yiddish. Political parties, religious groups, and newspapers used it, be it out of calculation (newspapers needed to be sold, ideas to be spread) or out of enthusiasm. World literature was translated into Yiddish tremendously fast.2 Eastern Jews moved to the West in larger numbers than ever before, thereby introducing a new wave of the language into the almost “Yiddish-free zones” of Europe. Soon (in the early twentieth century) not only the East, but also some Western cities would claim a Yiddish culture of their own, whether or not it was to their liking.3

2 See Emanuel S. Goldsmith, “The Emergence of Yiddishism,” in his Modern Yiddish Culture. The Story of the Yiddish Language Movement (New York: Fordham University Press, 1997), pp. 45–70; Dovid Katz, Words on Fire. The Unﬁnished Story of Yiddish (New York: Basic Books, 2004), esp. pp. 173–256; Meir Wiener, Tsu der geshikhte fun der yidisher literatur in 19tn yorhundert, 2 vols. (New York: YKUF [= Yiddisher Kultur Farband], 21945–46). 3 Salomon Adler-Rudel, Ostjuden in Deutschland 1880–1940. Zugleich eine Geschichte der Organisationen, die sie betreuten (Tübingen: Mohr, 1959); Trude Maurer, Ostjuden in Deutschland 1918–1933 (Hamburg: Christians, 1985); Andreas Herzog (ed.), Ost und West. Jüdische Publizistik 1901–1928 (Leipzig: Reclam, 1996); Maria Kühn-Ludewig, Jid- dische Bücher aus Berlin (1918–1936): Titel, Personen, Verlage (Nümbrecht: Kirsch-Verlag, 2008); Andrej Jendrusch (ed.), Der Galaganer Hahn. Jiddische Kinderbücher aus Berlin (Berlin: Edition Dodo, 2003). steinschneider and yiddish 385

There is a widely accepted view of how Yiddish was regarded in Western Europe—especially by Germans and German Jews—in Stein- schneider’s time. The “typical” attitude was one of resentment, seeing in Yiddish only the tangible proof of a retrograde, isolated Jewish- ness, an expression of a “ghetto-mentality” and cultureless behavior. As Jerold Frakes4 put it, Yiddish remained for many “a constant and embarrassing reminder [. . .] of Jewishness in its pristine, anti-Semitic, caricatured image, which by the nature of anti-Semitism and Jewish self-hatred eternally threatened to besmirch them.” In the midst of all this overt resentment, however, we ﬁnd also a surprisingly complex relationship to Yiddish that deserves a closer look. On the one hand, in Germany increasing notice was taken of Eastern Yiddish and its cultural productions. This manifested itself, for instance, in an initial wave of Yiddish-into-German translations that brought Yiddish prose and poetry to the attention of a German-speaking audience. (Admittedly, though, the number of translated works was small and they appeared mainly toward the end of Steinschneider’s life.)5 Also other disciplines, such as musicology and philology, evinced a growing interest in Yiddish.6 Western Yiddish, on the other hand, was in an entirely different situation: As the Jews of the German-speaking lands were gradually becoming “German citizens of the Mosaic faith,” they underwent linguistic transitional phases that led them away from their traditional mother tongue (Western Yiddish) and into the arms of the “cultural language” of the Enlightenment (German). Thus, by Steinschneider’s time, Yiddish had already lost its hold and status, having been replaced

4 Jerold C. Frakes, The Politics of Interpretation. Alterity and Ideology in Old Yiddish Studies (Albany NY: State University of New York Press, 1989), 24. 5 Translations from Yiddish into German ﬂourished especially in the ﬁrst three decades of the 20th century. But even by the time Steinschneider died (in 1907), some wonderful works had already appeared, e.g., Morris Rosenfeld’s Lieder des Ghetto, tr. Berthold Feivel, illus. E. M. Lilien (Berlin: Marquardt, 1903); the Jüdischer Almanach (Berlin: Jüdischer Verlag, 1904) (including works by Sholem Aleichem, Sholem Asch, Y. L. Perez); Jizchak Leib Perez, Ausgewählte Erzählungen und Skizzen, tr. Mathias Acher (Berlin: Jüdischer Verlag, 1905) etc. 6 See, e.g., Gustav Dalman, Jüdischdeutsche Volkslieder aus Galizien und Rußland (Leip- zig: Centralbureau des Institutum Judaica, 1888; Berlin: Evangelische Vereinsbuch- handlung, 21891); Abraham Tendlau, Sprichwörter und Redensarten deutsch-jüdischer Vorzeit, als Beitrag zur Volks-, Sprach- und Sprichwörter-Kunde (Frankfurt a.M.: Keller, 1860); Leo Wiener, “On the Judaeo-German Spoken by the Russian Jews,” American Journal of Philology 14 (1893): 51–67, 456–482. 386 diana matut by High German.7 It did not disappear entirely, however: remnants of the spoken language could still be found well after 1900, especially in rural areas.8 This process of linguistic acculturation took far more than a hundred years and obviously was not fully completed even at the beginning of the twentieth century. When referring to this phenomenon, one has to indicate with precision which region or social stratum one is referring to, for the language situation could vary greatly in different places at a given point in time. For the nineteenth and early twentieth century Florence Guggenheim-Grünberg’s breakdown of Western Yiddish is the most useful one put forward so far. She distinguishes:9

1) “Jiddische Vollmundart” (Yiddish full dialect); 2) “Jiddische Mischmundart” (Yiddish mixed dialect, strongly inﬂu- enced by either High German or a regional dialect);10 3) “Reste von Jiddisch” (remnants of Yiddish: a regional [German] dialect mixed with a high proportion of Yiddish expressions and phrases).11

7 Isaak Euchel’s comedy Reb Henoch, oder: Woß tut me damit (1793) is regarded as “one of the last Yiddish literary works written in the German speaking lands”; see the edition of the play by Marion Aptroot and Roland Gruschka (Hamburg: Buske, 2004), p. vii. 8 For this language situation see Florence Guggenheim-Grünberg, “Überreste westjiddischer Dialekte in der Schweiz, im Elsass und in Süddeutschland,” in For Max Weinreich on His 70th Birthday: Studies in Jewish Languages, Literature, and Society, ed. Lucy Dawidowicz (London, Den Haag, Paris: Mouton, 1964), pp. 72–81; Alfred Klepsch, “Die Überreste des Jiddischen in Mittelfranken,” in Wortschatz in Orthographie und Gegen- wart. Festschrift für Horst Haider Munske zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Mechthild Habermann et al. (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 2000), pp. 251–281; Rudolf Post, “Jüdisches Sprachgut in den pfälzischen und südhessischen Mundarten,” in Pfälzisches Judentum gestern und heute. Beiträge zur Regionalgeschichte des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts, ed. Alfred H. Kuby (Neustadt a.d. Weinstrasse: Verlag Pfälzische Post, 1992), pp. 177–258; and Jacob Toury, “Die Sprache als Problem der jüdischen Einordnung in den deutschen Kulturraum,” in Gegenseitige Einﬂüsse deutscher und jüdischer Kultur: Von der Epoche der Aufklärung bis zur Wei- marer Republik [ Jahrbuch des Instituts für Deutsche Geschichte 4], ed. Walter Grab (Tel Aviv: Nateev-Print, 1982), pp. 75–95. 9 F. Guggenheim-Grünberg, “Überreste westjiddischer Dielakte,” pp. 74–75. 10 Hans Rainer Hofman, Lachoudisch sprechen. Sprache zwischen Gegenwart und Tradition (Dinkelsbühl: Wenng, 1998); Karl Philipp, Lachoudisch. Geheimsprache Schopﬂochs (Din- kelsbühl: Wenng, 31983). 11 Andreas Nachama, Jiddisch im Berliner Jargon oder hebräische Sprachelemente im deutschen Wortschatz (Berlin: Stapp, 1994). steinschneider and yiddish 387

Inasmuch as the various dialects and remnants of Western Yiddish manifested themselves mainly in the oral tradition, it is difﬁcult to reconstruct them.12 Furthermore, many Jews still used only the Hebrew script for private correspondence and other literary productions, even if the language they wrote in and spoke was already (High) German.13 There- fore, we can ﬁnd most of the stages of the transition from Yiddish to German expressed in Hebrew characters as well as in Latin script.14 After the “golden age” of Christian scholarship on (Western) Yiddish, namely the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries,15 the years between 1800 and 1900 brought forth (among others) works of quite dubious, if not outright anti-Jewish or anti-Semitic character.16 In some publications,

12 Famous exceptions are Aaron ben Shmuels Liblekhe tfile [A Lovely Prayer Book] (Fürth: n.p., 1709); the so-called Fürther Megille or the Purim-play by Josef Herz, Esther oder die belohnte Tugend (Fürth: Zirndorff, 1828) and its Latin-script-version of 1871. See: Alfred Klepsch, “Aussterben und Fortleben des Jiddischen in Franken,” in Sterben die Dialekte aus? Vorträge am Interdisziplinären Zentrum für Dialektforschung an der Friedrich- Alexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg, 22.10.–10.12.2007, ed. Horst Haider Munske (http://www.dialektforschung.phil.uni-erlangen.de/sterbendialekte/), pp. 1, 3–7; or D. Katz, Words on Fire, pp. 174–176. 13 German written in Hebrew characters was called “Jewish writing” and still taught in schools as late as in the second half of the 19th century. It was the script preferred and propagated for a long time by the German maskilim and well accepted among German Jews; for a while it was certainly more popular than the Latin script. See Nils Roemer, “Sprachverhältnisse und Identität der Juden im 18. Jahrhundert,” in Jüdische Sprachen in deutscher Umwelt. Hebräisch und Jiddisch von der Aufklärung bis ins 20. Jahrhundert, ed. Michael Brenner (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002) pp. 16–17. 14 For an overview of the Yiddish-language situation in 19th-century Germany, see: Steven M. Lowenstein, “The Yiddish Written Word in Nineteenth-Century Ger- many,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 24 (1) (1979): 179–192. 15 See Max Weinreich, Geschichte der jiddischen Sprachforschung [PhD Diss., Marburg Uni- versity, 1923], ed. Jerold C. Frakes (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993); Jean Baumgarten, Introduction to Old Yiddish Literature, ed. and transl. Jerold C. Frakes (Oxford: University Press, 2005), 1–25; Jerold C. Frakes, The Cultural Study of Yiddish in Early Modern Europe (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007); or Aya Elyada, Early Modern Christian Literature on Yiddish in the German-Speaking World (PhD Diss., Tel Aviv University, 2009). 16 E.g., [Anonymous] Judenfibel oder Anweisung die Judenschrift in ein paar Tagen lesen und schreiben zu können, mit einer Vorrede zum Todtlachen und drei erprobten Mittel gegen Ratten, Mäusen, Raupen und Zahnweh von Dr. Sc-H. (Hamburg: Nestler, 1827); [Anonymous] Wörterbuch der jüdisch-deutschen Sprache. Enthält sämmtliche zum Verständniss der jüdisch- deutschen Markt-, Handels- und Geheimsprache notwendigen Bezeichnungen (Marburg: Verlag des Reichs-Herold, 1888); [Anonymous] Der Talmud oder die Sittenlehre des Judenthums, nebst Kulturgeschichte des Judenthums, Aussprüchen hervorragender Männer aller Zeiten, jüdisch- deutschem Wörterbuch usw. (Marburg: Verlag des Reichs-Herold, 31881, 71889); Heinri- cher Holzschuher’s (alias I[tzig] F[eitel] Stern’s) Die linke Massematten der houchlöblichen Jüdernschaft. E. Pfillelich zon Unterricht unn zor erbauing fer unnere Leut [. . .] (Meissen: F.M. Goedsche, 1833) (with an index of Yiddish words). 388 diana matut authors clearly tried to distance themselves from any alleged sympathy for the Jewish people while at the same time showing a relatively deep knowledge and, in part, even admiration for Jewish literature. Friedrich Heinrich von der Hagen’s Die romantische und Volks-Litteratur der Juden in Jüdisch-Deutscher Sprache (The Romantic and Folk-literature of the Jews in Judeo-German Language)17 is an example of such a work.18 Rotwelsch (or other varieties and sociolects with Yiddish loan-words) was not always linguistically distinguished from Yiddish itself, a confusion reflected in some publications. Even more, there was a general, recognizable tendency to identify so-called “Jüdisch-Deutsch” ( Judeo- German) with “Gauner-Sprache” (crooks’ or thieves’ cant, argot or lingo) or “Handelssprache” (language of commerce).19 In the Bibliotheca

17 Berlin: Dümmler, 1855. 18 Friedrich Christian Avé-Lallemant (see below) as well as Steinschneider himself criticized von der Hagen in strong terms; see Steinschneider, “Jüdische Litteratur und Jüdisch-Deutsch. Mit besonderer Berücksichtigung auf Avé-Lallemant,” Serapeum 25 (1864): 35–36. 19 The nineteenth century offers a whole arsenal of publications about the “Gaunerthum” [the ways of crooks] and their language, e.g., [Anonymous] Wörterbuch der jüdisch-deutschen Sprache (see above); Franz Eduard Anton, Wörterbuch der Gauner- und Diebessprache [. . .] (Magdeburg: Emil Baensch, 21843); Friedrich Christian Avé-Lalle- mant, Das deutsche Gaunerthum in seiner social-politischen, literarischen und linguistischen Aus- bildung zu seinem heutigen Bestande (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1858, 1862); Erich Bischoff, Jüdisch-deutscher Dolmetscher. Ein praktisches Jargon-Wörterbuch; nebst kurzer Grammatik und Gesprächen, Erzählungen, Redensarten etc., Kalender, Zahl-, Maß-, Münz- und Gewichtstafel (Leipzig: Grieben, 31901, 41916); Caspar Diederich Christensen, Alphabetisches Verzeich- niß einer Anzahl von Räubern, Dieben und Vagabonden [. . .] (Hamburg: Bohn, 1814); Carl Falkenberg, Versuch einer Darstellung der verschiedenen Classen von Räubern, Dieben und Diebes- hehlern [. . .], 2 vols. (Berlin: Duncker und Humblot, 1816–18); Friedrich Ludwig Adolf von Grolmann, Actenmäßige Geschichte der Vogelsberger und Wetterauer Räuberbanden und mehreren mit ihnen in Verbindung gestandenen Verbrecher (Giessen: Heyer, 1813); idem, Wörterbuch der in Teutschland üblichen Spitzbuben-Sprachen [. . .] mit besonderer Rücksicht auf die ebräisch- deutsche Judensprache (Gießen: Müller, 1822); Ludwig Pﬁster, Actenmäßige Geschichten der Räuberbanden an den beiden Ufern des Mains, Spessart und im Odenwald, 3 vols. (Heidelberg: Braun, 1812); August Friedrich Pott, Die Zigeuner in Europa und Asien, ethnographisch-lingui- stische Untersuchung, vornehmlich ihrer Herkunft und Sprache (Halle: Heynemann, 1844–45); Karl Stuhlmüller, Vollständige Nachrichten über eine polizeyliche Untersuchung gegen jüdische durch ganz Deutschland und dessen Nachbarstaaten verbreitete Gaunerbanden [. . .] (n.p. 1823); Adolf Friedrich Thiele, Die jüdischen Gauner in Deutschland, ihre Taktik, ihre Eigenthümlich- keiten und ihre Sprache [. . .] (Berlin: [privately printed] 1841); J(oseph) K(arl) von Train, Chochemer Loschen. Wörterbuch der Gauner- und Diebs- vulgo Jenischen Sprache, nach Criminalac- ten [. . .] (Regensburg: Pustet, 1832); Johann Wolff, Die Geheimsprache der Handelsleute oder Dolmetscher und Wörterbuch zur Entzifferung aller beim Handel und Wandel vorkommenden jüdischen und jargonitischen Wörter und Redensarten für Metzger, Viehhändler [. . .] (Leipzig: [privately printed], 1884). steinschneider and yiddish 389

Geographica Germaniae (1896),20 for instance, one ﬁnds the following heading: “Diebs-, Gauner-, Handwerksburschen- und Vagabunden- Sprache, Rotwelsch, Juden-Deutsch” (The Language of Thieves, Crooks, Traveling Journeymen and Vagabonds, Rotwelsch, Jews’ German), a typical assortment for its time and the continuation of a tradition that had already begun in the eighteenth century.21 A further prominent example is Friedrich Christian Avé-Lallemant’s Das deutsche Gaunerthum in seiner social-politischen, literarischen und linguistischen Ausbil- dung zu seinem heutigen Bestande,22 to which Steinschneider himself felt compelled to write a lengthy reply23 and which triggered his further research into “Judeo-German literature” (1864, 1866, 1869). Parallel to these publications, an increasing number of more favorably predisposed Jewish and non-Jewish scholars wrote about Yid- dish (Western and/or Eastern): general introductions,24 textbooks and grammars,25 collections of proverbs (often from an “ethnologi- cal” point of view),26 lexical and lexicographical works,27 philological

20 Paul Emil Richter, Bibliotheca Geographica Germaniae. Litteratur der Landes- und Volks- kunde des Deutschen Reichs (Leipzig: W. Engelmann, 1896), pp. 444–445. 21 An interesting and signiﬁcant indication for this connection is the word “mauscheln.” Originally its main semantic use was “to speak in a speciﬁc Jewish manner” (i.e., Yiddish itself or German heavily loaded with Yiddish words). Albeit a negative connotation had been detectable before then, its meaning shifted noticeably during the nineteenth century to “secretly arrange something against rules and law to the disadvantage of others; to deceive.” This truly unfortunate connection brought about much resentment with regard to this linguistic variant as well as to the people associated with it. See Hans Peter Althaus, Mauscheln. Ein Wort als Waffe (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2002); idem, Kleines Lexikon deutscher Wörter jiddischer Herkunft (München: C.H. Beck, 2003). 22 Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1858, 1862. 23 See his “Jüdische Litteratur und Jüdisch-Deutsch. Mit besonderer Berücksichti- gung auf Avé-Lallemant.” 24 F. Fridrich, Populäre Anleitung auf mnemonischem Wege binnen drei Tagen die Kenntnis der Lautbedeutung sämmtlicher hebräischer Quadrat-, jüdischer-deutscher Drucke und jüdisch-deutscher Current-Buchstaben sich anzueignen (Prag: André, 1885); Max Grünbaum, Jüdischdeutsche Chrestomathie. Zugleich ein Beitrag zur Kunde der hebräischen Literatur (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1882). 25 M. Grünbaum, Jüdischdeutsche Chrestomathie; Johann Christoph Vollbeding, Hand- wörterbuch der jüdisch-deutschen Sprache, nebst Erläuterungen jüdischer Sitten, Gebräuche, Klei- dungen, Fast- und Festtage, Monate, Zählungsart und dgl. (Leipzig: Swickertscher Verlag, 1904). 26 Moritz Blass, Jüdische Sprichwörter (Leipzig: Gerhard, 1857); A. Tendlau, Sprich- wörter und Redensarten. 27 E. Bischoff, Jüdisch-deutscher Dolmetscher; Jacob Gerzon, Die jüdisch-deutsche Sprache: eine grammatisch-lexikalische Untersuchung ihres deutschen Grundbestandes (Köln: Salm, 1902); J(ohann) H(einrich) M(eynier), Sem und Japhet: Die hebräischen Worte der Jüdisch-Deutschen Umgangssprache (Leipzig: Glockner, 1882). 390 diana matut studies,28 literary criticism29 and bibliographies.30 Other scholars dealt with Yiddish as a part of Jewish literature31 or history/sociology32 in general. Moritz Grünwald,33 Max Grünbaum (1817–1898),34 Gustav Karpeles (1848–1909),35 Alfred Landau (1850–1935),36 Abraham Tendlau37 and Leo Wiener (1862–1939)38 are among the well-known authors who made the study of “Judeo-German” or Yiddish their focus.

28 Carl Theodor Weiss, “Das Elsässer Judendeutsch,” Das Jahrbuch für die Geschichte, Sprache und Literatur Elsaß-Lothringens 12 (1896): 121–182. 29 Adolf Brüll, Beiträge zur Kenntnis der jüdisch-deutschen Literatur (Frankfurt: Erras, 1877); Karl Hildebrand, “Über jüdisch-deutsche Literatur,” in Verhandlungen der 26. Versammlung deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner in Würzburg (30 Sept.–3 Oct. 1868) (Leipzig: Teubner, 1869). 30 Julius Fürst, Bibliotheca Judaica. Bibliographisches Handbuch der gesamten jüdischen Lite- ratur mit Einschluß der Schriften über Juden und Judenthum und einer Geschichte der jüdischen Bibliographie (Leipzig: Engelmann, 1849) and, of course, Steinschneider’s works. 31 E.g., Gustav Karpeles, Geschichte der Jüdischen Literatur, 2 vols. [Geschichte der Literatur der europäischen Völker 3] (Berlin: Oppenheim, 1886, 21909, 31920) [Die jüdischdeutsche Literatur, vol. 2, pp. 1000–1029]; idem, Jewish Literature and Other Essays (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1895); L. Wiener, A History of Yiddish Literature in the Nineteenth Century; or Steinschneider himself, see his “Jüdisch-deutsche Literatur.” 32 Moritz Güdemann, Geschichte des Erziehungswesens und der Cultur der Juden in Frank- reich und Deutschland von der Begründung der jüdischen Wissenschaft in diesen Ländern bis zur Vertreibung der Juden aus Frankreich (X.–XIV. Jahrhundert) (Wien: Hölder, 1880); idem, Geschichte des Erziehungswesens und der Cultur der Juden in Deutschland während des 14. und 15. Jahrhunderts (Wien: Hölder, 1888) & idem, Quellenschriften zur Geschichte des Unterrichts und der Erziehung bei den deutschen Juden. Von den ältesten Zeiten bis auf Mendelssohn (Berlin: Hofmann, 1891). 33 Moritz Grünwald, Ueber den jüdisch-deutschen Jargon [vulgo Kauderwälsch genannt] [Separatabdruck aus der Wochenschrift Der ungarische Israelit, Budapest 1876] (Prag: Jakob W. Pascheles, 1888). 34 Max Grünbaum, Mischsprachen und Sprachmischungen (Berlin: Habel, 1885); idem, Die jüdisch-deutsche Litteratur in Deutschland, Polen und America (Trier: Mayer, 1896); idem, Jüdischdeutsche Chrestomathie. 35 G. Karpeles, Geschichte der Jüdischen Literatur. 36 Alfred Landau, Zur russisch-jüdischen “Klesmersprache” (Wien: Hölder, 1913); idem, “Bibliographie des Jüdisch-deutschen,” in Bibliographie der deutschen Mundartenforschung (Anhang), ed. F. Mentz (Leipzig: Breitkopf und Härtel, 1892); idem, “Das Demi- nutivum der galizisch-jüdischen Mundart. Ein Capitel aus der jüdisch-deutschen Grammatik,” Deutsche Mundarten 1 (1896): 46–58; idem, “Bibliographie des Jüdisch- Deutschen,” Deutsche Mundarten 2 (1897): 126–132. 37 A. Tendlau, Sprichwörter und Redensarten. 38 L. Wiener, A History; idem, “On the Judaeo-German Spoken by the Russian Jews”; idem, “On the Hebrew Element in Slavo-Judaeo-German,” Hebraica 10 (1894): 175–181; idem, “The Lord’s Prayer in Judaeo-German,” Modern Language Notes 9 (1894): 156–158; idem, “The Judaeo-German Element in the German Language,” American Journal of Philology 15 (1894): 329–347. steinschneider and yiddish 391

Steinschneider himself worked extensively with the literary productions of Western Yiddish, often for bibliographical purposes, even if not always to his pleasure and delight. He was, of course, perfectly capable of reading Yiddish in all its various scripts and stages of linguistic development. In his usual thorough manner, Steinschneider not only gained an excellent overview of its older literature, but also read some key works (even if he only skimmed through some).39 Interest- ingly, he was exceptionally well informed of the debates about Yiddish. Not only did he read studies of the literature in “Judeo-German,” but he also took into consideration historic as well as contemporary linguistic research. He was able to comment on vocalism, grammar, and the development of the language as such, although he was not always right: his observations about the consistency of Yiddish spelling, for example, went astray because they were often based on a comparison with German. In his response to Avé-Lallemant he even displayed his capabilities as a Yiddish etymologist.40 He did not, however, comment on any of the modern Yiddish authors who became known especially toward the end of the nineteenth century. The places where Steinschneider lived (Moravia, Prague, Berlin, etc.), his studies at the yeshiva and his bibliographical works all suggest that he came into contact with Eastern Yiddish as well. He himself reports on several Yiddish plays and performances that he saw.41 It is likely, though, that he never spoke Yiddish actively. Even if speaking it would have been no problem for him, he probably would have avoided doing so for ideological reasons (to be described below).42

1.2. The Wissenschaft des Judentums: Its Views on Yiddish We will now ask whether Steinschneider shared the views of the Wis- senschaft des Judentums (science of Judaism) with respect to Yiddish. It should ﬁrst be noticed that although the “language program” of its advocates differed in various respects from that of Moses Men- delssohn (1729–1786) and David Friedländer (1750–1834), when it

39 Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant,” HB 8 (1865): 13–17 (e.g., the Bovo-bukh, Artus- hof; Shmuel-bukh, Maase-bukh etc.). 40 Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant,” HB 8 (1865): 113–114. 41 See especially his “Purim und Parodie” (1902–1904), where he mentions such presentations several times. 42 Ute Tintemann & Jürgen Trabant, Sprache und Sprachen in Berlin um 1800 [ Berliner Klassik 3] (Hannover: Wehrhahn, 2004). 392 diana matut came to Yiddish they had similar views. Most scholars of the movement would have subscribed to Friedländer’s statement: This is the first and necessary condition. [. . .] The Judeo-German that is common among us has no rules, it is vulgar, and it is an incomprehensible language outside of our own circles. It must be eradicated completely, and the Holy Language, and the German mother tongue, must be taught systematically from early youth onward. [. . .] Once the child is stuck into the so-called Judeo-German language he cannot have any correct conception of a single thing in this world.43 Steinschneider himself certainly already had an opinion about Yiddish when he met Leopold Zunz, the renowned “founder” and spiritual father of the science of Judaism. It is likely, however, that Zunz influenced his views during the years to come and Zunz himself had strong ideas on “Judeo-German.” Thus, in his Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden he wrote: In 1778, finally a sample of Mendelssohn’s version of the Pentateuch [appeared], in which the genius of the Hebrew and of the German language joined forces to deal the death-blow to Judeo-German. It never occurred to rational people at all to attribute to Jews a special kind of Jewish German as their [inalienable] inheritance or prerogative. [. . .] The enthusiastic Wessely poured the cup of wrath over the ignorant young teachers, full of pain about the language of the German and Pol- ish Jews, which appeared to him almost as an incurable disease. [. . .] Just as Judeo-German retreated before German, so [too] did the bad Hebrew style retreat before the correct language.44 Zunz held that a religious service devoted to “edification (devotion) and instruction” should abandon “Judeo-German.”45 Furthermore, he quotes various religious authorities, such as Rabbi Hirsch Levin

43 David Friedländer’s Epistle to the German Jews [German in Hebrew Letters] (Ber- lin, 1788), quoted from: D. Katz, Words on Fire, pp. 180–181. 44 “1778 endlich das Specimen von Mendelssohns pentateuchischer Version, in welchem der Genius der hebräischen und der deutschen Sprache mit vereinter Kraft dem Jüdisch-deutschen den Todesstreich versetzten. Vernünftigen war es überhaupt nie eingefallen, ein besonderes jüdisches Deutsch den Juden als Erbtheil oder Vor- zug zuzutheilen. [. . .] Die Schale des Zorns goss der begeisterte Wessely über die unwissenden Junglehrer aus, voller Schmerz über die Sprache der deutschen und polnischen Juden, die ihm fast eine unheilbare Krankheit erschien. [. . .] Wie vor dem Deutschen das Jüdisch-deutsche ﬂoh, also vor der correcten Sprache der schlechte hebräische Stil.” Leopold Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden historisch entwickelt. Ein Beitrag zur Altertumskunde und biblischen Kritik, zur Literatur- und Religionsgeschichte (Berlin: Asher, 1832) [repr. Hildesheim: Olms, 1966], pp. 466–468. 45 L. Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge, pp. 472–473. steinschneider and yiddish 393

(Berlin), Rabbi Saul (Frankfurt/O.) or Rabbi Noa Chajim Hirsch (Hamburg), who all agreed that only German—if possible, in connection with Hebrew—could be the path to education, self-improvement, and true religion.46 This, of course, is part of the process which Jeffrey Grossman has called “The Invention of the German Jew.”47 But Zunz was not only path-breaking with regard to the science of Judaism’s general ideological attitude toward “Judeo-German,”48 he also had a lasting effect on the movement’s linguistic assessment of the language: its age, its status as a language in its own right, its grammar and so on. He wrote: According to all documents written until about the end of the Middle Ages, the language of the Jews was the same as that of the German Christians, except for a few isolated expressions and occasional differences of pronunciation. But already in the sixteenth and, even more, in the following two centuries the dialect of the Jews evolved into a speciﬁc so-called Judeo-German, in which Hebrew, peculiar Jewish and outdated expressions existed in equal measure. Since all cooperation [with Christians] in life and in the sciences had ceased, and since the Jews had inherited no culture from earlier times, the language of the German and, even more so, that of the Polish Jews degenerated into a dialect in which the missing elements were supplied by inserting words derived partly from Hebrew [and] partly from its own distinct coinages, some from Hebrew, some from corrupted and obsolete inﬂections. [ This dialect was] perpetuated through books and poorly speaking parents and teachers and through the gradual mixing with foreign [. . .] words, [thus becoming] often completely unrecognizable as German.49

46 L. Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge, pp. 466–467. 47 Jeffrey A. Grossman, The Discourse on Yiddish in Germany from the Enlightenment to the Second Empire. [Studies in German Literature, Linguistics, and Culture] (Rochester NY: Camden House, 2000), pp. 75–113. 48 Of course he had forerunners and contemporaries who came to the same conclusions about Yiddish and German (see Grossman’s The Discourse on Yiddish), but he was the one who decisively shaped some of the “guiding principles” of the movement with respect to linguistic considerations. 49 “Allen bis gegen den Schluß des Mittelalters verfassten Dokumenten zufolge, standen die Juden in der Sprache—bis auf einzelne Redeweisen und hier und da die Aussprache—den deutschen Christen gleich. Aber schon im 16. und noch stärker in den beiden folgenden Jahrhunderten bildete sich der Dialekt der Juden zu einem eigenen sogenannten Jüdisch-Deutschen aus, in welchem hebräische, eigene jüdische und veraltete Ausdrücke in gleicher Menge vorhanden waren. Da alle Gemeinschaft im Leben und in der Wissenschaft abgebrochen, und aus der früheren Zeit keine Cul- tur vererbt war: so artete die Sprache der deutschen, und mehr noch der polnischen Juden zu einem, das Fehlende theils aus dem Hebräischen, theils aus eigener—bald hebräischer, bald nur verderbter und veralteter—Flexionsweise gebildeten Worten ergänzenden, Dialekte aus, der durch Bücher und schlecht redende Eltern und Lehrer 394 diana matut

Zunz also asserted that medieval German Jews did not dispose of prayer books, Bible versions, and textbooks in the language of their surrounding culture, i.e., German—contrary to Italian, Spanish, and Arab Jews. Jews in Germany therefore had to use “Judeo-German [Yiddish], deficient works, through which the corrupted dialect took root even deeper.”50 Altogether, Zunz made, albeit implicitly, some fundamental statements that in part haunt Yiddish to this very day: (1) The language of the German Jews was once “pure” but is now “corrupted” German; (2) it is a German dialect which has become (partly) unrecognizable; (3) it has no clear structure or grammar; (4) it has borrowed wildly from Hebrew or German (thus being a “mixed-language”), using obsolete and corrupted forms; (5) it is the result of the Jews’ isolation. In addition, and this is the most important point, Zunz defines certain periods of “language-development,” meaning that (6) “Judeo-German” was pure German until the end of the Middle Ages (or rather until about 1600). Subsequently, the Wissenschaft scholars thought of the time before 1600 as a kind of “golden age” in which “Judeo-German” had not yet become independent and could be regarded either as “pure German” or as one German dialect among others. This understanding has interesting results with respect to the question whether the “Judeo-German” of later periods should be seen as a language or as a dialect. If we apply strict logic to Zunz’ reasoning then one should think, on his premises, that after 1600 “Judeo-German” should have been deemed a language. But this is hardly what Zunz and others affirm. Gustav Karpeles, for instance, wrote that “Judeo-German” presumably is a jargon, [. . .] German linguistic substrate [. . .] which was unused here for a long time and allowed to go wild, [. . .] and whose only law seems to be arbitrariness.”51 Max Grünbaum and Alfred Landau, too, saw in it “pure German,” although the former meant its linguistics, the latter its contents.52 And,

verewigt, und durch die allmähliche Vermischung mit fremdartigen [. . .] Worten, nicht selten ganz unkenntliches Deutsch wurde.” Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge, pp. 452–453. 50 “[. . .] jüdisch-deutschen, mangelhaften Arbeiten, durch welche der verdorbene Dialekt noch tiefer einwurzelte.” L. Zunz, Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge, p. 458. 51 Jargon [. . .] deutsches Sprachgut [. . .] das man hier so lange hat unbenutzt ver- wildern lassen [. . .] dessen einziges Gesetz die Willkür zu sein scheint”; G. Karpeles, Geschichte der Jüdischen Literatur, p. 102. 52 See J. C. Frakes, The Politics of Interpretation, p. 26. steinschneider and yiddish 395 last but not least, Leo Wiener declared that Yiddish (as he already called it) suffered from “intentional neglect of grammatical rules” and presented a “Semitic infection.”53 Heinrich Graetz, for his part, placed it, as one historian has put it, “at the center of Jewish malformation in the Diaspora, even opposing the translation of his magnum opus into the ‘half-bestial’ language. [. . .] In the past, Jews had lost ‘pure speech’ to a ‘childish jargon.’ ”54 During the nineteenth century a further ideological shift can be noticed, which also inﬂuenced the perspectives of the science of Juda- ism on Yiddish. This was the “one-language-only”-stance. Under the inﬂuence of Romantic nationalism and with the aim of attaining complete emancipation and integration of the Jews, the concept of Jew- ish bilingualism was abandoned: both the idea of Hebrew-German bilingualism (as Mendelssohn had intended), and a fortiori that of Yiddish-German bilingualism. Henceforth, Jewish multilingualism was discouraged. Some of Steinschneider’s contemporaries felt a need to devote works to this notion, as did Anton Rée (1815–1891) in his Die Sprachverhältnisse der heutigen Juden, im Interesse der Gegenwart und mit besonderer Rücksicht auf die Volkserziehung (Hamburg: Gobert, 1844). Immanuel Wohlwill (1799–1847), himself one of the founders of the “Verein für die Wissenschaft und Cultur der Juden” (Society for the Science and Culture of Jews), even called multilingualism “Doppelzüngigkeit” (two- facedness).55 All this is part of the ideological background against which Stein- schneider started to work on Yiddish.

2. Steinschneider and Yiddish

In one way or another, Steinschneider dealt with “Judeo-German” throughout his life, be it in his bibliographies or in other publications on various aspects of Jewish literature (see Bibliography below). Of particular importance are two reactions of Steinschneider to Avé- Lallemant’s work (1858, 1862). The ﬁrst is a strongly formulated review, in which Steinschneider vented some of his most pertinent comments

53 L. Wiener, A History, p. 16. 54 J. A. Grossman, The Discourse on Yiddish, p. 108. 55 For all this see N. Roemer, “Sprachverhältnis und Identität,” p. 17, as well as Immanuel Wohlwill, “Bemerkungen über Sprache und Sprachunterricht, als Beförde- rungsmittel der allgemeinen Bildung,” Sulamith 7 (1825): 25–42, 79–100. 396 diana matut on Yiddish: “Avé-Lallemant, Fr. Ch. Ben. Das deutsche Gaunerthum” (1864–1865); much the same holds for Steinschneider’s article “Jüdi- sche Litteratur und Jüdisch-Deutsch. Mit besonderer Berücksichtigung auf Avé-Lallemant” (1864, 1866, 1869).56 In what follows I will present Steinschneider’s view of various themes related to Yiddish, trying to set them in context.

2.1. Terminological Issues 2.1.1. The Various Names of Yiddish up to Steinschneider’s Time It is well known that to name something reveals much about the speaker’s attitude with respect to the value of the denoted object. This naturally holds for Yiddish, too, as Frakes puts it well: This [. . .] is only one indicator that the subject of the name of the Yid- dish language, seemingly trivial and of concern only to terminological pedants, is and has historically been, perhaps one of the most vexing and tenacious questions to occupy [. . .] scholars of Yiddish language and literature. [. . .] We are thus concerned here not just, and not even primarily, with a problem of nomenclature, for the variety of names used illustrates a difference of opinion with respect not just to the nomen but also to the res that determines it, that is, the preconceptions of what the object of studies is and can be.57 This statement gives a good idea of the difﬁculties of the subject. The various names for Yiddish are (mostly) not due to mere chance. They are, as just indicated, expressions of a whole way of thinking about the language (and occasionally also about the cultural and social reputation of the people who speak it). Thus the plurality of names used to refer to Yiddish is the outcome of the very different motives and motivations of those who introduced them. Some, if not most of

56 “Avé-Lallemant, Fr.Ch.Ben. Das deutsche Gaunerthum in seiner social-politischen, literarischen und linguistischen Ausbildung zu seinem heutigen Bestande” [Review], HB 7 (1864): 128–130; 8 (1865): 13–17, 113–116; and “Jüdische Litte- ratur und Jüdisch-Deutsch. Mit besonderer Berücksichtigung auf Avé-Lallemant,” (ab Heft 4 1864 als “Jüdisch-Deutsche Literatur und Jüdisch-Deutsch”) Serapeum. Zeitschrift für Bibliothekswissenschaft, Handschriftenkunde und ältere Litteratur 25 (1864): 33–46, 49–62, 65–79, 81–95, 97–104; 27 (1866): 1–12; 30 (1869): 129–140, 145–159. 57 See: Jerold C. Frakes, “The Names of Old Yiddish,” in his The Politics of Interpre- tation: Alterity and Ideology in Old Yiddish Studies (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989) pp. 22–23. steinschneider and yiddish 397 these terms have been the subject of debates concerning their precise meaning, translation, use, negative or positive connotations, etc. It would by far exceed the limits of this essay to discuss them in detail, but I will provide a brief sketch allowing us to view Steinschneider’s statements on Yiddish in context. In Yiddish itself, for instance, one encounters the terms leshoneynu the language of“ (לשון אשכנז) our language”; loshn Ashkenaz“ (לשוננו) (עברי טייטש) German, Yiddish”; ivre-taytsh“ (טייטש) Ashkenaz”;58 taytsh ;”mother tongue“ (מאמע לשון) Hebrew-German, Yiddish”; mame loshn“ ,Yiddish“ (יידיש-טייטש) Yiddish, Jewish”; or yidish-taytsh“ (יידיש) yidish Judeo-German.” A relatively old Latin term, used mainly by Christian Hebraists, is Hebraeo-Germanico (Hebrew-German); see also the Yiddish expression ivre-taytsh.59 It indicates that the language is thought of as a mixture of Hebrew and German.60 The expression surfaces in German as well, as in the notorious Jüdischer Sprachmeister oder Hebräisch-Teutsches Wörterbuch,61 which includes dialogues translated from “Hebräo-Barbarisch” (Hebrew- Barbaric) into German. Finally, in the late seventeenth century, the term “Jüdisch-Deutsch” or “Judendeutsch” (“Judeo-German” or “Jews’ German”) enters the stage (variant spellings: “Jüdisch- ( Juedisch-) Teutsch”). The term became known among Christian scholars in German-speaking lands mainly through Johann Christoph Wagenseil’s (1633–1705) Belehrung der Jüdisch-Teutschen Red- und Schreibart.62 One of the authors who followed Wagenseil was Caspar Calvör (1650–1725). In his Gloria Christi.

58 Historically, this could refer to various languages (e.g., German, Yiddish or French). 59 As in Paul Fagius’ Compendiaria isagoge in linguam hebraeam (Constanz: Iacobus Ranivora, 1543), Thomas Blebelius, “Isagoga brevissima exhibens rationem legendi et scribendi Hebraeogermanicum,” in his Compendium Hebraeae Linguae (1594) or in the Thesaurus of the “father of Yiddish linguistics,” Johann Buxtorf (the Elder): “Lec- tionis Hebraeo-Germanicus usus & exercitatio,” in his Thesaurus grammaticus linguae sanctae hebraeae (Basel: Waldkirch, 1609). Furthermore, in August Pfeiffer’s “De Lec- tione Hebraeo-Germanica,” in Critica Sacra [. . .] (Dresden: Hübner, 1680), C[aspar] Kümmet’s “De Lectione Hebraeo-Germanica,” in Schola Hebraica [. . .] (Nürnberg: Endter, 1688). 60 See Johann Boeschenstain’s Elementale introductiorum in hebreas litteras teutonice & hebraice legendas (Augsburg: Oeglin, 1514). 61 Leipzig, 11742; Ansbach, 21750. 62 Königsberg: Rhode, 11699; Frankfurt a. Main: Monath, 21715. 398 diana matut

Beweisthum der Wahrheit der christlichen Religion [. . .]63 he included a chapter “Anleitung wie das Jüdisch-Teutsche zu lesen” (Instructions on how to read Judeo-German).64 Yet another author, in fact one of the most renowned scholars of this time, was Johann Heinrich Callenberg (1694–1760),65 who taught Yiddish at the University of Halle (Saale) and whose book Kurtze Anleitung zur jüdischteutschen Sprache was published three times in the short period between 1733 and 1749 (11733, 21738, 31749). One of Callenberg’s brightest students, Wilhelm Christian Jus- tus Chrysander (1718–1788), adopted a stance that avoided viewing Yiddish solely from a missionary’s perspective: in 1750 he published his Jüdisch-Teutsche Grammatick [sic]66 and the Unterricht vom Nutzen des Juden-Teutschen, der besonders Studiosus Theologiae anreitzen kan, sich dasselbe bekant zu machen.67 His use of the term “Jüdisch-Teutsch” ( Judeo-Ger- man) follows an already established tradition of naming Yiddish. Some considered Yiddish simply as the “Judensprache” ( Jews’ language). This is the case with Carl Wilhelm Friedrich in his Unterricht in der Judensprache und Schrift, zum Gebrauch für Gelehrte und Ungelehrte.68 Although he wrote for a business-oriented readership, he did much more than merely satisfy language-teaching needs: he was namely the ﬁrst to classify the different Yiddish dialects, thus becoming the so- called “father of Yiddish dialectology.” The scholars of the Wissenschaft des Judentums completely ignored the terms for Yiddish given to it by its native speakers: using a Yiddish word to name the language would have contradicted everything they stood for. Moreover, such a usage would also have been anachronistic: that Yiddish was once leshoneynu (“our language”) or loshn Ashkenaz was for the protagonists of the Wissenschaft a disagreeable fact which they hoped would soon belong to the past. Instead, they turned to the terminology of the Christian Hebraists, occasionally using other

63 Leipzig: König, 1710. 64 Other works are PhilogLottos’ ( Johann P. Lütke) Kurtze und gründliche Anweisung, zur Teutsch-Jüdischen Sprache (Freyberg: Christoph Matthaei, 1733) or Eberhard Carl Friedrich Oppenheimer, Hodegus Ebraeo-Rabbinicus, Kürtze und deutliche Anweisung, [. . .] des heutigen Judenteutsch zu lessen und zu verstehen (Leipzig: Zschau, 1731). 65 Callenberg’s second book, a dictionary, shows his missionary intentions: Jüdisch- teutsches Wörterbüchlein. Welches [. . .] dem Gebrauch derer welche solche Schriften verstehen lernen und Die christliche Wahrheit unter den Juden so wohl mündlich als auch schriftlich bekannt machen helfen wollen Gewidmet worden [. . .] (Halle: Buchdruckerei des jüdischen Instituts, 1736). 66 Wolfenbüttel-Leipzig: Meissner, 1750. 67 Wolfenbüttel: Meissner, 1750. 68 Prenzlow: Chr. G. Ragoczy, 1784. steinschneider and yiddish 399 contemporary expressions as well, as e.g., “Jargon.” During Stein- schneider’s time, “Judeo-German” or “Jews’ German” were the standard scholarly terms. One has to remember that the word “Jiddisch” itself appeared in Germany only in the 1920s. It is a loan-word from English that had become popular in the Anglo-Saxon world during the late nineteenth century. Introduced and popularized through Walter Besant’s novel Children of Gibeon, published (in English) in Leipzig in 1886,69 it was thereafter used by Alexander Harkavy in his A Dictionary of the Yiddish Language of 189870 and in Leo Wiener’s History of Yiddish Literature. It took some decades for the term to dislodge “Judeo-German” and be accepted in English- and German-speaking environments.

2.1.2. Steinschneider’s Nomenclature and His Definition of Yiddish “Judeo-German”:71 In his writings Steinschneider uses various terms to refer to Yiddish and partly defines them. As one would have expected, he employs mostly the term “Judeo-German,” clearly endorsing the “classical” definition applied by the Wissenschaft des Judentums to the “Judeo- German” language of the period from about 1507 (the first edition of the Bove-bukh marks the beginning of “Judeo-German” for Stein- schneider, s.b.) up to about 1600 or even 1700 (he does not define a clear end of this linguistic stage, but only mentions the rise of the “Jargon” after 1600), when it was supposedly still “pure” German (“somewhat modified”, s.b.) or a German dialect.72 This is the stance he expresses at the beginning of his impressive catalogue of “Judeo- German” books from the Oppenheimer collection (Bodleian Library, Oxford):

69 Leipzig: Bernhard Tauchnitz, 1886 (copyright edition). 70 With a treatise on Yiddish reading, orthography and dialectical variations (New York: Hebrew Publishing Company, 1898); formerly the Folshtendiges english-yudishes verterbukh mit der oysshprakhe fun yeden vort in yudish. Complete English-Jewish Dictionary (New York: Hebrew Publishing Company, 1891). 71 For a detailed overview of the use of the term “Jüdischdeutsch” [ Judeo- German], see: Werner Weinberg, “Die Bezeichnung Jüdischdeutsch. Eine Neubewer- tung,” Zeitschrift für Deutsche Philologie 100. Sonderheft Jiddisch. Beiträge zur Sprach- und Literaturwissenschaft (1981): 253–290. 72 He sometimes calls it simply “German” or speaks about “deutsche Paraphrase” [German paraphrasing] as in his “Jüdisch-deutsche Literatur” (1848) and the “Deut- sche Gebetbücher” (1872). 400 diana matut

I herewith submit to the public the first attempt of a compilation of works in Judeo-German, i.e., of the works composed in the German language, [albeit] somewhat modified, but written in Hebrew characters.73 Later he writes: Indeed, the written J[udeo]-G[erman] is originally nothing but German with a few idiocies, archaisms, and Heb. foreign words.74 In his critique of Avé-Lallemant he reports and comments on the latter’s definition of the language: Let us now look at the author’s opinions on Judeo-German. He [Avé- Lallemant] defines it correctly as a German vernacular, mixed with Heb. (in the broadest [imaginable] sense) words that are either unchanged or Germanized.75 Here (in a rare agreement with Avé-Lallemant), Steinschneider accepts the definition of “Judeo-German” as a German vernacular with a distinctive Hebrew component, a kind of fusion or mixed language. Already the Christian Hebraists had used this description, and that Steinschneider was familiar with their works and had (re-)read all the relevant passages is evident in his discussions of Avé-Lallemant. Those espousing the science of Judaism adapted this definition (if only indirectly) and made it their own. Of interest, though, is the description of Yiddish in the above-quoted passage as “a German vernacular” (deutsche Volkssprache), and Steinschneider’s concurrence. This brings us to the neuralgic point of so many of the comments about “Judeo-German” from this time: I refer to the debate on whether or not Yiddish should be regarded as a language in the full sense of the word. In the passage just quoted Steinschneider seems to accept that it is a (German) language, even if “only” a vernacular. J[izhak or Isaak] M[arkus] Jost wrote the entry “Judenteutsch, Jüdisch-Teutsch” ( Jews’ German, Judeo-German) in the Allgemeine Encyklopädie der

73 “Indem ich hier den ersten Versuch einer Zusammenstellung der jüdisch- deutschen, d.h. der, in etwas modiﬁcirter deutscher Sprache, jedoch mit hebräischen Lettern, geschriebenen Werke dem Publikum übergebe”; Steinschneider, “Jüdisch- deutsche Literatur” (1848): 313. 74 “In der Tat ist das geschriebene J.-D. ursprünglich nichts als Deutsch mit einigen Idiotismen, Archaismen und hebr. Fremdwörtern.” Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 115. 75 “Betrachten wir nunmehr die Ansichten des Vf. über das Jüdisch-Deutsche. Er [Avé-Lallemant] deﬁnirt dasselbe richtig als eine mit hebr. (im weitesten Sinne) unveränderten oder germanisierten Wörtern durchmischte deutsche Volkssprache.” Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 13. steinschneider and yiddish 401

Wissenschaften und Künste (1850)—the very same volume for which Stein- schneider provided his famous article on “Jewish Literature”—where he deﬁnes Yiddish as follows:

JEWS’ GERMAN, JUDEO-GERMAN, a jargon (mixture of a German basis with very many Hebrew roots in Germanized form [. . .]). The German element has been much obscured and often distorted, namely through pronunciation, accent, construction, semantics, various abbreviations and changes (partly resulting from the seclusion of the Jews, partly from their liveliness and haste, partly from their will not always to be understood by everyone), as well as through exotic influences—so much so that it can be regarded as a language of its own. It falls into many dialects which Jews [. . .] easily distinguish.76 This definition accords “Judeo-German” the status of a full-fledged language, even recognizing that it has several dialects. Jost does so, however, on the basis of the model of decline (Verfallsmodell), i.e., deeming Yiddish to be the result of a deterioration that took place after it moved away from its “language of origin” (“The German element has been much obscured and often distorted . . .”). Steinschneider subscribes to this model of decline, saying “Light secular fiction never lost its attraction: [works] were [ just] adapted, and—in the wake of the language’s decline—revised.”77

“Jargon”: Two other terms feature prominently as well: “Judendeutsch” (“Jews’ German”) and “Jargon,” which Steinschneider uses in his essays and bibliographies.78 In his critique of Avé-Lallemant (see the quote in defense of Zunz under 2.2 below),79 he says that the “jargon, properly

76 “JUDENTEUTSCH, JÜDISCH-TEUTSCH, ein Jargon (Gemisch aus teutscher Grund- lage mit sehr vielen hebräischen, der Form nach germanisierten Stämmen [. . .]). Das teutsche Element ist in demselben durch Aussprache, Betonung, Construction, Wort- bedeutung, vielfältige Abkürzungen und Änderungen (theils Folge der Abgeschieden- heit der Juden, theils der Lebhaftigkeit und Eile, theils der Absicht, nicht immer von Jedem verstanden zu werden), sowie insbesondere durch die fremdartigen Einﬂüsse dermaßen getrübt und oft entstellt, daß man diese Sprache als eine eigene ansehen kann. Sie zerfällt in mehre Dialekte welche die Juden [. . .] leicht unterscheiden.” J. M. Jost, “Judenteutsch, Jüdisch-Teutsch,” in Juden—Jüdische Literatur, Section 2, vol. 27, Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, eds. J. S. Ersch and J. G. Gruber (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1850), pp. 322–324. 77 “Die profane Unterhaltungsliteratur verlor nie ihre Anziehungskraft, und es entstanden Umschreibungen und dem Verfall der Sprache folgende Ueberarbeitungen.” Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 16. 78 E.g., in his “Purim und Parodie” (1903): 87. 79 Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 13. 402 diana matut so-called,” (“der eigentliche Jargon”) developed only in the sixteenth century. He also explains how the jargon came into existence in the ﬁrst place, namely “when the isolation [of the Jews] and the decline of their dialect heightened to form a jargon.”80 This indicates that in general Steinschneider applies the term “Jargon” for the time after 1600, when it arose as a result of the decline of the “Judeo-German” dialect used by a segregated population. At one point he gives an example of what precisely “Jargon” means for him. He does so in the context of his bibliography of Purim plays and parodies, stating that Purim jokes have not yet been collected and that it would only be possible to record them in “Jargon,” e.g.: Ei, sie steht ja nicht!—Warum steht sie—?המן in פ [Was soll mir die [sic !(Frage) קשיא nicht?—Wozu soll sie mir?—Das ist doch meine In this case, the term “Jargon” means neither Western or Eastern Yiddish, nor a mixed dialect thereof, but Yiddish remnants in German, a sociolect spoken by Jews from both East and West when moving from Yiddish to High German. It was especially this stage of linguistic evolution that led to much resentment from both Jews and non-Jews, and partly became denoted by the pejorative term “mauscheln” (see above). Steinschneider obviously was quite concerned about how the “Jargon” would be considered by non-Jews, especially anti-Semites: “The appeal, in Hebrew and German, [. . .] is printed in a wretched jargon in Latin letters; it is beyond me why such a welcome caricature is offered to anti-Semites.”81

“Jews’ German”: Steinschneider hardly ever uses the expression “Jews’ German,” but at one point he offers a precise description: Because the so-called Jews’ German, a mixture of equal parts of older German, its own forms, and Hebrew, was created only by the 16th and the following cent[uries] with their [the Jews’] even greater isolation from life and science.82

80 “[. . .] als die Isolierung und der Verfall ihres Dialects zu einem Jargon sich stei- gerte”; Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 113. 81 “Der hebr. und deutsche(!) gedr. Aufruf [. . .] ist in einem jämmerlichen Jargon mit lateinischen Lettern gedruckt; man begreift nicht, warum den Antisemiten eine so willkommene Carricatur geboten wird.” “Purim und Parodie” (1903): 281. 82 “Denn das sogenannte Judendeutsch, eine gleiche Mischung von älterem Deutsch, eigenen Bildungen [. . .] und Hebräisch, schufen erst das 16. und die folgenden Jahrh. mit ihrer noch größeren Abschließung in Leben und Wissenschaft.” Steinschneider, steinschneider and yiddish 403

One has to say, though, that Steinschneider is not always entirely consistent in his use of this terminology. It seems clear, however, that his emotionally most negative response is directed ﬁrst and foremost against the “Jargon.” He does not seem to direct similarly harsh words against “Judeo-German,” which he obviously treats as a worthy object of his studies.

2.2. Steinschneider about the Age of Yiddish Avé-Lallemant dared to contradict Zunz in claiming that the emergence of Yiddish goes back to a period prior to the sixteenth century. Thus Steinschneider comments: [ To argue] against Zunz [. . .], according to whom the development of the real Jargon took place only in the 16th century, the author [. . .] points to “Judeo-German” and even Germanized words in older crooks’ vocabularies.83 While modern scholarship would agree that the roots of Yiddish lie in earlier periods, Steinschneider felt obliged to defend Zunz’ view, shared by most adherents of the science of Judaism, that Yiddish developed away from German only after 1600. Thus he refers to “this not insigniﬁcant number of writings that in their oldest form one can hardly call Judeo-German.”84 The oldest book which he recognizes as having been written in “Judeo-German,” though, is Elia Levita’s Bovo- bukh from 1507.85 Thus, “Judeo-German” lies for him between the two ends of the “development,” signifying the transition from “pure German” to “Jargon.” For Steinschneider something important was at stake here, for he thought that determining the age of the “Jargon” would be signiﬁcant for the “cultural history of the German Jews in general.”86 However, in

Die fremdsprachigen Elemente im Neuhebräischen und ihre Benutzung für die Linguistik. Lecture 4 Oct. 1844 (Prague: Landau, 1845), p. 29. 83 “Gegen Zunz [. . .], welcher die Ausbildung des eigentlichen Jargons erst ins XVI. Jahrh. verlegt, beruft sich der Vf. [. . .] auf ‘jüdisch-deutsche’ sogar germanisierte Wörter in älteren Gaunervocabularen.” Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 13. See also Steinschneider’s critique of Avé-Lallemant with regard to the age of Yiddish in his “Jüdische Litteratur und Jüdisch-Deutsch” (1864): 36–37, 39. 84 “Diese nicht unbedeutende Zahl von Schriften, die man in ihrer ältesten Gestalt kaum jüdisch-deutsche nennen darf ”; Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 15. 85 Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 15. 86 “Culturgeschichte der deutschen Juden überhaupt”; Steinschneider, “Avé- Lallemant” (1865): 13. 404 diana matut his judgment the extant literature proved not the “Jargon’s” oldness, but precisely the opposite: “We may summarize these discussions in the ﬁnding that the available literature by no means proves an older age of the jargon, but could rather provide an argument against it.”87 In Steinschneider’s view, this means a late(r) separation of the Jews from their surrounding culture.

2.3. Steinschneider about the Readership of Yiddish Literature Until recently, it was a much repeated assumption that the majority of Yiddish readers were “women, young and uneducated people,” as Steinschneider put it.88 This notion developed partly because this statement often appeared on the cover pages of Yiddish books which Steinschneider had read.89 There one indeed frequently finds an indication that these were the target groups the author had in mind in writing or translating the work. In reality, we know today that men read and enjoyed books in the vernacular no less than women and that the knowledge of Hebrew was not as widespread as was traditionally assumed.90 Still, the purported connection of Yiddish with poverty of mind left its mark on how Yiddish was perceived and on the identification of the social stratum with which it was associated. Steinschneider was not unaffected by this association, although his bibliographical studies must have made him aware that the broad spectrum of Yiddish literature could hardly have been written and published for the sole benefit of women.

2.4. Steinschneider’s Contribution to Yiddish Studies It is impossible to list all the Yiddish works that became known to a wider public through Steinschneider. Even today not even half of the manuscripts and books that he listed have been studied and/or

87 “Wir dürfen wohl diese Erörterungen in dem Resultate zusammenfassen, dass die vorhandene Literatur durchaus nicht ein höheres Alter des Jargons beweise, vielmehr als Argument gegen dasselbe gelten könnte.” Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 17. 88 “Frauen, junge Leute und Ungelehrte”; Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 15. 89 Steinschneider, “Avé-Lallemant” (1865): 17. 90 See Alicia Ramos-González, “Daughters of Tradition. Women in Yiddish Culture in the 16th–18th Centuries,” European Journal of Women’s Studies 12 (2005): 213–226. steinschneider and yiddish 405 published, and for many works his catalogues remain the only source of information. Even if his input were limited to the bibliographical information he provided, his contribution to Yiddish Studies could already be described as great (see the Bibliography below). Although Steinschneider avoided transcribing titles according to Yiddish pronunciation (probably for ideological reasons),91 he did quote extensively from Yiddish works.92 Usually his bibliographical data include a description of the work, references to similar works, information on other editions, as well as secondary literature. In the presence of con- ﬂicting data, he was able to single out the correct information, list and compare Yiddish editions from various libraries, and provide information on the sources of works, on their use and on their authors. Steinschneider explicitly encouraged the “Verein für jüdisch-deutsche Literatur” (Society for Judeo-German Literature), founded in Leipzig to study certain manuscripts and books as well as material he himself was willing to provide.93 In particular, Steinschneider signaled the contribution of Yiddish to the formation of the modern Hebrew language.94 He also emphasized the role of Yiddish in Jewish literature, especially in the development of the dramatic form: “As is well known, drama entered Jewish literature only quite recently, and for the most part in the Judeo-German language.”95 He thus repeatedly stressed the point that “Judeo- German” Purim plays (foremost the Esther story etc.) helped to introduce drama into Hebrew literature, and therefore stood at the cradle of this modern Hebrew literary form.96 Some of Steinschneider’s notes on Yiddish works have become particularly invaluable because the manuscripts or books he described simply do not exist anymore. This includes, for example, a fragment of the so-called “Taub Jeklein,” which he owned himself.97 A version of

91 He usually wrote the Yiddish title in Hebrew letters and/or provided a transcription of Hebrew words in the classical pronunciation. 92 E.g., in his “Teutsch-Benschen” (1889), “Purim und Parodie” (1881–84; 1902– 04) and the catalogues. 93 See his “Jüdisch-Deutsche Literatur” (1848–49): 59. 94 See Die fremdsprachlichen Elemente (1845). 95 “[. . .] wie ja überhaupt das Drama bekanntlich erst in neuerer Zeit in die jüdi- sche Literatur gedrungen ist, und zwar überwiegend in jüdisch-deutscher Sprache”; Steinschneider, “Purim und Parodie” (1902): 181. 96 Steinschneider, “Purim und Parodie” (1903): 84–85, 86. 97 It was probably lost in the 1966 ﬁre at the Jewish Theological Seminary New York, which had bought Steinschneider’s collection. 406 diana matut this text, different from Steinschneider’s, is found in Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms Opp. Add. 4o 136 (the so-called Wallich-Collection). Without Steinschneider’s description in Serapeum we would not have known about the several copies of the text that had been made, about the tradition of annually “performing” the text or its connection to the town of Thannhausen.98

3. Conclusion

Leo Wiener, the renowned scholar of Yiddish literature and linguistics, wrote at the end of the nineteenth century in his pathbreaking His- tory of Yiddish Literature in the Nineteenth Century about Steinschneider and “Judeo-German”: Even Steinschneider has no love for it; although he has written so much and so well on its literature, he knows nothing of its nineteenth-century development, and nearly all his quotations of Judeo-German words that in any way differ from the German are preposterously wrong.99 Wiener, of course, observed correctly that Steinschneider was not at ease with “Yiddish” and (as already mentioned) avoided transcribing it according to the correct pronunciation. But Wiener failed to appreciate adequately that Steinschneider’s view on the language was complex and not as straightforwardly negative as it may appear at ﬁrst blush. First of all, Steinschneider shared the view that was dominant within the Science of Judaism, namely, that until the sixteenth century Yiddish was pure German, or a dialect thereof. Only after the Late Middle Ages did it gradually develop into the “real” “Judeo-German,” deﬁned as German with a distinctive Hebrew component. As such, it remained to be a worthy object of study. Moreover, it proved that Jews had participated in the surrounding culture, not only linguistically, but also culturally, since many translations and adaptations of great European literature of the time, as well as literary works in the style of the period, were produced in “Judeo-German.”

98 See Steinschneider, “Purim und Parodie” (1903): 170, and “Jüdisch-Deutsche Literatur und Jüdisch-Deutsch” (1864): 102; also: Diana Matut, Dichtung und Musik im frühneuzeitlichen Aschkenas (Boston and Leiden: 2011). 99 L. Wiener, A History of Yiddish Literature, p. 13. steinschneider and yiddish 407

Secondly, Steinschneider embraced the “model of decline” (Ver- fallsmodell). For him, as for most scholars of the science of Judaism, “Judeo-German” slowly declined (see above). Linguistically, he and others saw proof for this, e.g., in the “deterioration of the German element.” This was attributed to the growing “seclusion of the Jews” and to their increasing unwillingness to participate in the “overarching” German culture. For Steinschneider, at the end of this process of “deterioration” stood the “Jargon” as a living symbol of the Jews’ cultural and intellectual decline. Consequently there is a small “window” of time or time frame in which literary works in Yiddish were produced that attracted Stein- schneider’s attention and interest, especially the time from about 1500 to 1600 (give or take a few decades).100 He was eager to make certain literary creations of said period known to a wider public. In this vein he once summarized his view of the worth of “Judeo-German” literature by saying that building a complete “Judeo-German library” would be “a commendable achievement.”101 This article has hopefully shown that, although Steinschneider was indeed uncomfortable with the “Jargon,” this was deﬁnitely not the case with the “Judeo-German” of earlier periods and its literary productions. This is why he could write, as Wiener put it, “so much and well on its literature.”

Bibliography of Steinschneider’s Works on, or Including References to, Yiddish102

1843 “Immanuel. Biographische und literarhistorische Skizze von M. Sider in Berlin,” Literaturblatt des Orients 4 (1843): 1–9, 17–25, 33–40, 58–62. 1845 Die fremdsprachlichen Elemente im Neuhebräischen und ihre Benutzung für die Lin- guistik. Vortrag, gehalten in der ersten Versammlung deutscher und aus- ländischer Orientalisten zu Dresden, 4 Oct ober 1844 (Prague: Landau, 1845).

100 Since, in Steinschneider’s opinion, earlier works were still written in “pure” German, he excluded them from the canon of “Judeo-German” literature. For this, see especially the development of his discussion on Süßkind of Trimberg from the German version of his article “Jüdische Literatur” (1850) [= JL/G] to the English translation “Jewish Literature” of said article (1857) [= JL/E]. 101 Steinschneider, “Jüdisch-deutsche Literatur” (1864): 34. 102 This bibliography does not claim to be exhaustive. 408 diana matut

1848–49 “Jüdisch-deutsche Literatur, nach einem handschriftlichen Kata- log der Oppenheim’schen Bibliothek (in Oxford), mit Zusätzen und Berichtigungen,” Serapeum. Zeitschrift für Bibliothekswissenschaft, Handschriftenkunde und ältere Litteratur 9 (1848): 313–320, 321–336, 344–352, 363–368, 375–384; 10 (1849): 9–16, 25–32, 42–48, 74–80, 88–96, 107–112. [ Repr. as Jüdisch-Deutsche Literatur (Serapeum, Leipzig 1843–1849) ( Jerusalem: Hebrew University, 1961)]. 1850 “Jüdische Literatur,” in Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste, eds. Johann S. Ersch and Johann G. Gruber. Section 2, vol. 27: Juden—Jüdische Literatur (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1850), pp. 357–471 [= JL/G]. 1852–60 Catalogus Librorum Hebraeorum in Bibliotheca Bodleiana, 2 vols. (Ber- lin: Friedlaender, 1852 & 1860) [= CB]. [ Repr. Hildesheim: Olms, 1998]. 1857 Jewish Literature from the Eight- to the Eighteenth Century with an Intro- duction to Talmud and Midrash: A Historical Essay (London: Long- man, Brown, Green, 1857) [ Transl. of Steinschneider’s “Jüdische Literatur” (1850)] [= JL/E]. 1858 “Die jüdischen Frauen und die jüdische Literatur,” Hebräische Bibliographie 1 (1858): 66–68; 2 (1859): 33–35; 19 (1879): 9–11, 33–35, 81–31 and “Zur Frauenliteratur,” Israelitische Letterbode 12 (1888): 49–95. 1859–97 Drei Abhandlungen über die jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters. Teil 1: Allgemeine Einleitung in die jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters. Teil 2: Zur pseudepigraphischen Literatur des Mittelalters. Teil 3: Vorlesungen über Kunde hebräischer Handschriften, deren Sammlungen und Verzeichnisse. [Allgemeine Einleitung in die jüdische Literatur des Mittelalters. Vorlesun- gen, gehalten in der Veitel Ephraim’schen Lehranstalt, Berlin, in den Jahren 1859–1897 (Amsterdam: Philo Press, 1966)]. 1864–65 “Avé-Lallemant, Fr. Ch. Ben. Das deutsche Gaunerthum in seiner social-politischen, literarischen und linguistischen Aus- bildung zu seinem heutigen Bestande” [Review], HB 7 (1864): 128–130; 8 (1865): 13–17, 113–116. 1864, 1866, 1869 “Jüdische Litteratur und Jüdisch-Deutsch. Mit besonderer Berücksichtigung auf Avé-Lallemant,” (ab Heft 4, 1864 als “Jüdisch-Deutsche Literatur und Jüdisch-Deutsch”) Serapeum. Zeitschrift für Bibliothekswissenschaft, Handschriftenkunde und ältere Litte- ratur 25 (1864): 33–46, 49–62, 65–79, 81–95, 97–104; 27 (1866): 1–12; 30 (1869): 129–140, 145–159. 1869 “Jüdisch-Deutsche Literatur,” HB 9 (1869): 58–59. 1871 “Über die Volksliteratur der Juden,” Archiv für Literaturgeschichte 2 (1871): 1–21. 1872 “Deutsche Gebetbücher,” HB 12 (1872): 125–129. 1875 Die hebräischen Handschriften der Königlichen Hof- und Staatsbibliothek in München (München: Palmische Hofbuchhandlung, 1875, 21895) [= Cat. Munich]. 1878 “Fürther Drucke (1691–1730),” HB 18 (1878): 114–115. Catalog der Handschriften in der Stadtbibliothek zu Hamburg (Hamburg: Meissner, 1878). [= Cat. Hamburg]. [ Repr. Hildesheim: Olms, 1969]. steinschneider and yiddish 409

1878–97 Verzeichnis der hebräischen Handschriften der königlichen Bibliothek zu Berlin (Berlin: Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1878–97) [= Cat. Berlin, Part i]. [ Repr. Hildesheim: Olms, 1980]. 1887 “Hebräische Drucke in Deutschland,” Zeitschrift für die Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland 1 (1887): 103–105, 281–287, 377–382; 2 (1888): 200–203; 3 (1889): 84–86, 262–274; 4 (1890): 314–316; 5 (1892): 154–186. 1889 “Teutsch-Benschen,” Jahrbücher für Jüdische Geschichte und Literatur 9 (1889): 84–85. 1881–84/ “Purim und Parodie,” Israelitische Letterbode 7 (1881/82): 1–14; 9. 1902–1904 (1883/84): 45–58 and Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judenthums (MGWJ ) 46 (1902): 176–187, 275–280, 372–376, 473–478, 567–582; 47 (1903): 84–89, 169–180, 279–286, 360–370, 468–474; 48 (1904): 242–247, 504–509. 1899 “Die italienische Literatur der Juden,” MGWJ 43 (1899): 74–79. 1905 Die Geschichtsliteratur der Juden in Druckwerken und Handschriften (Frankfurt a. Main: Kauffmann, 1905). [ Repr. New York: Arno, 1980]. 1908 Rangstreit-Literatur. Ein Beitrag zur vergleichenden Literatur- und Kulturgeschichte. [Sitzungsberichte der philosophisch-historischen Klasse der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften 155] (Vienna: Hölder, 1908). 20. STEINSCHNEIDER AND ITALY

Asher Salah

Introduction

In order to understand Steinschneider’s contribution to Jewish literature in Italy and his interest in Italian culture in general, it is necessary to dwell on his vast network of friends and intellectual contacts as they appear in his works and correspondence. At that time, scholarly information was mainly transmitted by letter, which explains why the accumulation of knowledge was not always systematic and linear, but often depended on casual encounters and personal idiosyncrasies. His letters are monuments of erudition that cast an invaluable light onto the intellectual world of many of the key figures of the European Wis- senschaft des Judentums and represent as well a precious key in appraising the kinds of social relationships prevalent between scholars and lay people, Jews and Christians, in the crucial period when both Germany and Italy were becoming independent. However, the dispersal of the mostly unpublished correspondence to and from Steinschneider and the scant interest shown until recently in 19th-century epistolography make it difficult to rightly assess the contents and the extent of his international connections. To establish a list of Steinschneider’s correspondents is by no means an easy task. His library, together with many of his private documents, manuscripts and letters, came into the custody of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York after his death in 1907.1 All this material was offered by Adeline Goldberg, Steinschneider’s trusted collaborator until his last days, and purchased through the munificence of Jacob H. Schiff at the insistence of Alexander Marx and George Alexander Kohut.2

1 I owe special thanks to Ms. Ellen Kastel and Mr. David Sclar, archivists at JTS ( Jewish Theological Seminary) in New York, for their invaluable help and support to me while studying Steinschneider’s correspondence there. 2 Cf. G. A. Kohut, “Steinschneideriana,” in Studies in Jewish Bibliography and Related Subjects in Memory of Abraham Solomon Freidus (1867–1923) (New York: Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1929), p. 86. To this collection were later added the letters addressed to Steinschneider which were offered to the JTS by Ephraim Deinard. Cf. 412 asher salah

In recent years the epistolary collection has been put in alphabetical order according to the authors of the extant letters, but some of them have not been correctly identified, others escaped the attention of the cataloguers and there are still many boxes with unsorted material. Moreover, no catalogue of the letters themselves exists, and they are neither chronologically nor typologically ordered. In the partial list of correspondents we find no mention either of the letters’ contents or of the languages in which they were written. This situation required a thorough revision of all the correspondence ex novo and in loco, an investigation that has proved invaluable, considerably enlarging the number of known correspondents and revealing new facts about Steinschneider’s Italian connections.3 Unfortunately, Steinschneider did not keep copies of his own letters and therefore in most cases we can only infer their contents from the answers and questions that were addressed to him by his Italian correspondents.4 Nevertheless, in the Samuel David Luzzatto archives at the Centro Bibliografico dell’Unione delle Comunità Ebraiche Italiane in Rome, I was able to find 67 letters and short notes sent by Steinschneider to S. D. Luzzatto between April 1844 and September 1865.5 Some other documents relating to Steinschneider are to be found at the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana in Rome.6 Moreover, it has been possible to fill many lacunae in our knowledge of Steinschneider’s vast network of contacts on the Italian peninsula through the study of his published letter-exchanges, such as the one with Prince Baldassarre Boncompagni (1821–1894) and the ones that appeared in the Italian Jewish journal, Vessillo Israelitico. Other sources have also been very helpful, mostly articles by Steinschneider

A. Marx, Bibliographical Studies and Notes on Rare Books and Manuscripts in the Library of the JTSA, ed. Menahem Schmelzer (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1977), p. 71. 3 Since the bulk of the correspondence has been microfilmed, it is this version that I have checked, courtesy of the JTS Archives. The call number of the Steinschneider papers is ARC 108, JTS archives (henceforth: JTS). 4 In a letter at the Centro Bibliografico, Archivio Shadal No. 271, dated September 10, 1857, Steinschneider wrote to S. D. Luzzatto: “Io non fo copie delle mie lettere.” 5 I am grateful to Dr Gisèle Lévy, librarian at the Centro Bibliografico dell’UCEI (henceforth: CB), and to her assistant David Jacobini for their help in Rome. 6 My thanks to Gad Freudenthal, who called my attention to this information, recorded by Delio Vania Proverbio in his introduction to the catalogue B. Richler (ed.), Hebrew Manuscripts in the Vatican Library (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca apostolica vaticana, 2008), when this article was already in print. steinschneider and italy 413 on Italian subjects and writings by others referring to his intellectual and scientific contributions to Italian culture. By following the paths of his Italian correspondence, it should be possible to reconstruct some lesser-known aspects of his biography and at the same time to throw new light on a strongly German-oriented Italian Judaism.

Steinschneider’s Italian Correspondents

It is clear from the many articles and letters written in Steinschneider’s own hand in Italian that he had a perfect mastery of this language. We know from Alexander Marx’s biographical portrait that he had learned Italian in his boyhood from Adolf Bacher, then tutor in Prossnitz.7 He also attended, between 1833 and 1835, Italian courses at the Karl- Ferdinandische Universität of Prague, obtaining the highest marks.8 His language knowledge was such that, at the beginning of his career as a teacher, he made a living by giving Italian lessons in Nickolsburg and elsewhere. Steinschneider’s first publication was a German translation from Italian, among other languages, of a versified collection of moral sayings by Abraham Belais (1773–1853), a curious adventurer who had been treasurer of the Bey of Tunis and at the beginning of the 19th century travelled through Europe, having been appointed rabbi in several communities in the Kingdom of Piedmont.9 According to Marx, Steinschneider received the munificent sum of 12.30 florins for this translation, given to him probably by the publisher himself.10 Steinschneider expressed his love for the Italian language on different occasions. In a letter to Prince Boncompagni he defines Italian as “to me, already since my childhood, the dearest among modern

7 A. Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1947), p.114. 8 A. Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” in Jewish Studies in Memory of George A. Kohut, eds. Salo W. Baron & Alexander Marx (New York: The Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1935), reprint, p. 4. 9 A. Belais, Beer LeHai Roi, Sammlung der ausgezeichnetsten Sittensprüche, hebräisch, franzö- sisch und italienisch, in deutscher Übersetzung (Vienna: s.n., 1838) [translation of Sefer Beer LeHai Roi—Libro del pozzo del vivente che mi vede (Turin: s.n., 1826)]. On this extra- vagant itinerant rabbi, cf. G. Levi Arian & D. Viterbo, Un rabbino nei ghetti del Regno di Sardegna. Gli ebrei non lo gradiscono ma la corte lo protegge (Florence: Giuntina, 2006). 10 A. Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography, p. 116. 414 asher salah languages.”11 In a mostly sedentary life, with few noteworthy trips between his definitive move to Berlin in 1845 and his death in 1907, it is not known how many times Steinschneider visited Italy. What is certain is that in 1852 he stayed “pendant un très court séjour” in Padua, where he met Samuel David Luzzatto (1800–1865)12 and Giuseppe Almanzi (1801–1860);13 in Venice, where he bought some manuscripts from the schoolteacher Moisé Soave (1820–1882);14 and finally, in August of that same year, in Trieste, where he drafted the catalogue of Leon Vita Saraval’s (1771–1851) library.15 The Italian language was especially useful to him in establishing lasting contacts with Italian scholars and spreading the results of Ger- man Wissenschaft in Italy, a country that had somehow remained isolated from the reform movement of Judaism which, since the end of the 18th century, had already dramatically transformed traditional research methods and influenced the intellectual life of Jewish communities north of the Alps. a) Correspondence with Jewish Scholars ,(שד"ל) S. D. Luzzatto, also known by his Hebrew acronym, Shadal was Steinschneider’s first Italian correspondent and the one with whom he had the longest connection. Only a small part of Shadal’s letters to Steinschneider has been published in the various collections of Luzzatto’s correspondence, 43 out of the 119 still extant at the Jewish Theological Seminary.16 This epistolary corpus cannot be considered complete, since the correspondence does mention letters not found among the documents that have reached us. A comparison of

11 M. Steinschneider, Intorno ad alcuni matematici del medioevo ed alle opere da essi composte. Lettere di M.S. a B.B. (Rome: Tipografia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche, 1863), p. 4: “già a me dilettissima fra le lingue moderne fino dalla mia fanciullezza.” 12 It was S. D. Luzzatto who lamented the brevity of his stop in Padua. Cf. letter from S. D. Luzzatto to Steinschneider dated August 18, 1862, at the JTS, and S. D. Luzzatto, “Bibliothèque de S. D. Luzzatto,” in HB 2 (1859): 18. 13 In the obituary for Almanzi, Steinschneider wrote: “Auch der Red. dieses Blat- tes, welcher im Jahre 1852 bei einem, leider sehr kurzen, Aufenthalt in Padua das Vergnügen hatte, in dem Gelehrten Almanzi einen liebevollen und zuvorkommenden Menschen kennen zu lernen,” in HB 3 (1860): 30. 14 M. Soave, “All’Illustre Mosé Dr. Steinschneider di Berlino,” Vessillo Israelitico 27 (1879): 368; also HB 3 (1860): 89. 15 Cf. the preface by M. Steinschneider to his Catalogue de la bibliothèque de feu L. Saraval (Trieste: Autrich, 1853). 16 See Appendix 2 for a collation of printed and manuscript letters and their disposition in chronological order. steinschneider and italy 415 the published letters with the originals at the JTS also shows that Isaia Luzzatto, their editor and Shadal’s son, decided to omit entire paragraphs dealing with what he considered to be matters strictly private, polemic or only of passing interest.17 The correspondence with Shadal begins with a letter dated April 12, 1844, which reached Steinschneider eight days later in Prague, and ends with one dated August 29, 1865, twenty-two days before Luzzatto’s death.18 The first one, alluding to previous collaboration projects, seems to confirm that they had started writing one another some years before. Shadal addresses Steinschneider, sixteen years his junior and at the time not yet thirty years old, with great respect and without forgetting to use the title Herr Doktor, at least until the beginning of the 1850s, when both have become familiar enough so as to allow Luzzatto to address his correspondent as “very esteemed friend” and to apprise him of family events, some of them tragic, such as the illness and death of his beloved and gifted son Filosseno (1829–1854) and of his eighteen-year-old daughter Marianna in 1862.19 In contrast, Steinschneider sounds more distant and appears reluctant to indulge in private confidences, describing himself, in a letter of condolences to his friend in Padua on the death of Marianna Luzzatto, as “one of those men who don’t intend and don’t like to waste words on emotions.”20 The importance of the meeting between Steinschneider and Luzzatto for strengthening their friendship in Padua during the summer of 1852 is shown by the increased frequency of their letters to each other thereafter. As far as we can tell from the extant archival material, from 1844 to 1851 Shadal wrote one letter per year, but from 1852 to 1865 an average of one letter per month, with a peak of 16 letters in 1863. Despite the many blanks in Steinschneider’s extant correspondence,

17 According to what Isaia writes in the preface to S. D. Luzzatto, Epistolario italiano francese latino (Padua: Salmin, 1890), p. V (also at JTS): “Si omisero le lettere o le parti di lettere . . . prettamente confidenziali e d’interesse intimo o passeggero. Si eliminò colla massima severità tutto quanto sapeva di diatriba e di personalità.” 18 All the letters are addressed to Berlin, with the exception of the first one and two others dated July 13, 1851, and July 31, 1853, sent to Oxford, where Steinschneider was working on the catalogue of the Hebrew manuscripts in the Bodleian library. 19 See letters dated July 31, 1853 (only in the complete version at JTS), October 28, 1853 (at JTS), December 30, 1853 (at JTS), March 1, 1854 (in Luzzatto, Epistolario), January 10, 1856 (at JTS and in Epistolario), April 15, 1856 (at JTS), and August 18, 1862 (at JTS). Also at JTS is a letter dated January 4, 1854, by Filosseno Luzzatto himself to Steinschneider, wrongly catalogued among his father’s letters. 20 “Uno di quegli uomini che non intendono e non amano a far parole sui senti- menti.” Letter dated October 1, 1862 (CB, No. 1276). 416 asher salah his letters are similarly frequent: after 1852, an average of four letters per year, with a peak of 8 letters in 1854. It is noteworthy that, whereas from 1844 to 1853 Shadal wrote exclusively in Hebrew (18 letters), from 1853 to 1865 he wrote 104 letters in Italian with one exception, the one in Hebrew dated April 1, 1863. Most of the letters sent by Steinschneider were also in Ital- ian, and Shadal could sometimes be unsparing to his friend about funny language mistakes he made.21 Steinschneider was aware of his deficiencies in Italian, but insisted on writing in this language.22 Only 7 short letters by Steinschneider are written in Hebrew, all of them sent before 1853, except one card with wishes for Passover 1856. While it is probable that after meeting personally in August 1852 they felt that writing to each other in Hebrew, when both were fluent in Ital- ian, was somehow artificial and inappropriate, we cannot exclude the possibility that Steinschneider may have wished to discontinue corresponding in Hebrew. In fact, Steinschneider did not share Shadal’s liberal attitude to using the sacred language to profane ends and for a normal exchange of ideas. While Shadal did not hesitate to scold Heinrich Graetz and Zecharia Fränkel for their reluctance to correspond in Hebrew23 and wrote to foreign scholars such as “Shir” (Solomon Judah Loeb) Rapaport (1790–1867), Isaak Markus Jost (1793–1860), Max Letteris (1800–1871), Isaac Erter (1792–1851), Leopold Zunz (1794–1884), Leopold Dukes (1810–1891) almost exclusively in Hebrew, Steinschneider was averse to using Hebrew in daily life, considering it nothing less than a “profanation” of the sacred language’s purity, in view of the risk of having to employ neologisms and barbarisms.24 From 1859 on it is possible to observe, from the many controversies and growing bitterness in their letters, a deterioration of their relationship. The main cause seems to have been an article, published

21 For instance, in the letter of October 8, 1863, Luzzatto wrote: “Ella mi scrisse una parola che non intendo e che non vorrei ch’Ella adoperasse con qualche altro italiano ‘molti saluti e tutte le biasime per Lei ed i suoi’. Ella voleva dire auguri, brame, forse. Ma biasimo è blâme.” 22 In an undated letter (CB, No. 2917) Steinschneider asked Shadal not to be surprised if he wrote nonsense or made mistakes: “se dunque trova qualche nonsenso od errore linguistico, come già arrivò in una delle mie lettere, non se ne meravigli.” 23 On this issue, see S. Werses, Megamot We-Tzurot Be-Sifrut Ha-Haskala ( Jerusalem: Magnes, 1990), p. 265. 24 See, e.g., what M. Steinschneider said against writing in Hebrew in HB 4 (1858): 78. steinschneider and italy 417 in Germany by Steinschneider, commenting positively on Spinoza. For Shadal it was a question of principle to stress the incompatibility of Spinoza with Judaism and therefore he does not hold back with harsh words for Steinschneider, lumping him among “those laudators of Spinoza” who “act in absolute opposition to the mission of Judaism itself; this is why I feel it is my duty to fight them.”25 To this attack Steinschneider replies with irony: [ Y ]our remarks made me smile. I cannot see the validity of your arguments . . . I consider you and myself amateurs in speculative philosophy and I think that every discussion of a speculative system such as Spinoz- ism is in itself already an ‘Entstellung’ . . . Any difference of opinion will not prevent me being your personal friend and I will not be offended if you say your opinion about my works according to your conviction.26 Another cause of uneasiness, sharpened by the precarious personal situation of Shadal, then at odds with the board of directors of the Col- legio Rabbinico in Padua, where he taught and which was his main source of revenue, is to be found in matters concerning the publication of Shadal’s articles in the Hebräische Bibliographie and certain omitted quotes of his intellectual contributions in other works by Steinschneider.27 In fact, the contrast between them becomes more evident once the purely philological and textual interpretation questions are put aside. When Shadal questions Steinschneider on matters of theology and philosophy, we discover the immense gap separating Luzzatto’s critical stance regarding the Haskalah’s spiritual consequences for Euro- pean Jewry from Steinschneider’s scientific imperturbability and his positivist optimism about the simple accumulation of knowledge. It is difficult not to perceive a veiled criticism of Steinschneider’s method when Shadal writes on August 22, 1859: “It seems that our century

25 Luzzatto, Epistolario, p. 956: “i lodatori di Spinosa (sic)” . . . “agiscono in oppo- sizione assoluta alla missione del Giudaismo, ecco perché io mi credo in dovere di combatterli.” 26 Letter dated February 2, 1860 (CB, No. 23). 27 In the letter of March 25, 1861, Shadal writes angrily to Steinschneider: “I ﬁnd it funny that in your books you mention me as a close friend, when in the index of the three years of Ha-Mazkir [i.e., HB] my name is not among the authors, and the catalogue of the Bodleian library doesn’t even mention [my work] Ha-Mishtaddel.” (“Mi fa assai da ridere che i di lei libri fanno menzione di me, come d’uomo ch’è in stretta relazione ed amicizia con lei, e poi l’indice dei tre anni HaMazkir non ha il mio nome tra gli autori ed il catalogo della Bodleiana non ha nemmeno tra gli omissi il mishtadel.”) As of 1862 Steinschneider was to insert on the HB front page the following: “Unter Mitwirkung” of S. D. Luzzatto and Marco Mortara. 418 asher salah has fallen into scepticism and does not mind or perhaps does not feel capable of judging the systems, but is content to know the names of the authors and of the books.”28 On the other hand, it has already been noted that Steinschneider was not particularly involved in those debates on Jewish philosophy or the spirit of Judaism which troubled Luzzatto so much.29 In a letter dated August 21, 1857, Steinschneider writes to Shadal that my faith and belief in a supreme being is not such as to encourage me to criticize, no less to persecute, those who have been raised in a different faith. As a Jew I have restricted my aversion to actions, and my experience of so many years, places and circumstances tells me that these actions do not depend upon [some kind of ] metaphysical faith as much as theologians pretend.30 Consequently, while expressing his admiration for Luzzatto’s edition of Judah Halevi’s Diwan,31 he sometimes openly resented what he thought of as his friend’s excessive attention to theological questions, and once he even dismissed as “youthful dreams” the Italian scholar’s poetry, which Luzzatto treated with the utmost seriousness as the core of his religious concerns. In fact, his review of Luzzatto’s main work, Lezioni di teologia dogmatica israelitica (Trieste: Coen, 1863) was far from ﬂattering.32 The wars for independence that shook the Italian peninsula in the late 1850s and the 1860s impeded a regular exchange of letters between Padua and Berlin. Already Steinschneider’s letters and

28 Letter of August 22, 1859 (at JTS) (partially published in Luzzatto, Epistolario, p. 940) (Index raisonné des livres de correspondance de feu S.D. Luzzatto [Padua: Sacchetto, 1878], No. 1108): “Pare che il secolo sia caduto nello scetticismo e non si curi o non si creda capace di giudicare i sistemi ma si contenti di conoscere i nomi degli autori e dei libri.” 29 Salo Baron, “Steinschneider’s Contribution to Historiography,” in Alexander Marx Jubilee Volume (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1950), pp. 83–148. 30 “La mia fede e credenza in un essere supremo non è tale che m’incoraggia di biasimar, per non dire di perseguitare, coloro, cui educazione ed istruzione hanno formato la loro fede differente. Come Giudeo ho ristretto la mia avversione contro gli atti e la mia esperienza per tanti anni, in tante regioni e circostanze, mi dice che questi atti non dipendono tanto da fede metafisica come pretendono i theologi [sic].” CB, No. 1267. 31 Steinschneider writes, “The famous poet had the luck, rare in the Hebrew-literature field, to find the most appropriate editor” (“Dem berühmten Dichter ist das, auf hebr. Gebiete seltene Glück zu Theil geworden, den angemessensten Herausgeber zu finden”), in HB 8 (1865): 50–51. 32 M. Steinschneider, in HB 8 (1865): 11. steinschneider and italy 419 books had to be delivered via go-betweens—usually the mutual friend Moisé Soave, who lived in Venice, where the Austrian censorship offices were located and goods coming from abroad examined33—and later on Shadal complained about the postal service between Padua (at the time and until 1866 under Habsburg sovereignty) and Italy and between Berlin and Venice.34 On February 3, 1865, Shadal won- dered about the growing infrequency of their contacts, explaining his own ever growing activities with a premonition of approaching death: “How long we have not written to each other! The catalogue has kept me very busy and now I have to translate the whole (!) Bible. Will I live long enough?”35 Nevertheless, his last letters to Steinschneider, though shorter than usual, show an enduring affection between two men who continued to the end to exchange books, bibliographical information, even indulging at times in gossip and humorous remarks about their health.36 Shadal recommends to Steinschneider some young Italian students travelling to Germany and is extremely happy to receive the visit of Leopold Zunz, Steinschneider’s mentor and a correspondent of Luzzatto’s for thirty years, who with his wife stopped by in Padua for a few hours on July 5, 1863.37 Steinschneider was profoundly upset by Luzzatto’s death. The news affected him so much that he declared: “The sad news of the sudden loss of our friend and collaborator of so many years has shocked us so deeply that we cannot bring ourselves to say here a few words about the achievements of this excellent man.”38

33 Cf. letter dated March 9, 1856, at JTS: “All that you wish to send me, please send to Soave in Venice (for Shadal). Every book that arrives here from abroad is sent to Venice in order to be examined.” (“tutto quello ch’ella vorrà mandarmi, spedisca a Venezia a Soave (per Shadal). Ogni libro che arriva qui dall’estero vien mandato a Venezia per esservi esaminato.”) 34 Cf. letters of August 22, 1859, and March 10, 1861. It took more than a month for a letter from Steinschneider to reach Luzzatto whereas the usual time to cover such a distance was 4 to 5 days. 35 Letter of February 3, 1865, at JTS: “quanto tempo che non ci scriviamo! Molto mi occupò il Catalogo ed ora devo dedicarmi a tradurre tutta (!) la Bibbia. Vivrò io tanto?” 36 One of the funniest letters written by Shadal is a parody of the kabbalistic use of gematriot in order to give pseudo-medical advice to Steinschneider, then suffering from frequent coughs, April 1, 1862. 37 Cf. letters dated July 5 and 12, 1863. On March 8, 1864, Luzzatto wrote a short note of introduction for a son of Abraham Lattes (1809–1875), the chief rabbi of Venice, who was going to Berlin to continue his education. 38 From the obituary for Luzzatto by Steinschneider, in HB 8 (1865): 117–118: “Die traurige Nachricht von dem plötzlichen Verluste eines langjährigen Freundes 420 asher salah

For many years afterward Steinschneider kept in touch with the family of the deceased. He was the promoter of an initiative to raise funds among German scholars and Hebraists for Luzzatto’s widow, Elena, as indicated in a letter of November 18, 1865, written by Soave, who acted as the middleman between Isaia, Shadal’s eldest son, and his German friends. On January 25, 1866, Elena wrote a thank-you note, acknowledging the receipt of 1000 francs and asking Steinschneider to express her family’s gratitude to all the Berlin friends of her late husband, mentioning Leopold Zunz in particular. On December 27, 1867, Shadal’s youngest son, Giuseppe, mindful of his father’s friendship with Steinschneider, wrote to the Berlin bibliographer to ask for his expert opinion in estimating the value of Shadal’s Hebrew-manuscript collection, of which he included a brief catalogue compiled for this purpose.39 Steinschneider replied, probably offering to purchase Shadal’s whole library, including the printed editions. Giuseppe’s answer informed him that he was already negotiating with a French collector and that, in any case and according to the family’s wishes, he would sell only the editions printed before 1600, a catalogue of which he was compiling.40 An important exchange of letters between Steinschneider and Isaia Luzzatto is still extant at the JTS.41 The first letter, dated December 25, 1869, and referring to previously sent books, is written in French. In it Isaia Luzzatto asks Steinschneider to intervene personally with the Berlin bookseller Julius Benzian, whom he accuses of having broken the financial agreement concerning the sole rights entrusted to him by the family to distribute and sell Shadal’s works in most European countries except Italy. Steinschneider’s mediation was fruitful, even though Isaia continued to complain to him about Benzian’s impudence in several subsequent letters. Indeed, on January 8, 1870, Isaia thanked Steinschneider, telling him who had bought his father’s manuscripts, in which he had shown so much interest. From then on, all of Isaia’s letters are in Italian, as most certainly Steinschneider’s were, too. Isaia became the representative of his family’s interests and und Mitarbeiters hat unsere Empfindungen zu hart getroffen, als dass wir hier ein Wort für die Verdienste des ausgezeichneten Mannes über uns gewinnen konnten.” 39 In later years Giuseppe continued his father’s philological work, publishing Beschreibung eines biblischen Codicis (Padua: Cooperativa, 1891). 40 Letters of December 27, 1867, and January 13, 1868, at JTS (wrongly inserted among the letters of S. D Luzzatto). 41 10 of these letters are still extant, those from December 25, 1869, to November 2, 1881. steinschneider and italy 421 presented himself as the executor of his father’s spiritual and material legacy, as we know from his role as editor of his father’s works and letter-collections and from other sources. In this capacity he renewed, through Steinschneider, the contact with some of his father’s acquaintances such as Abraham Geiger (1810–1874), Abraham Berliner (1833–1915), in Germany, Adolf Neubauer (1831/2–1907) in Oxford and Pietro Perreau (1827–1911) in Parma. Isaia, like his father before him, took care of requests and mediated contacts between Stein- schneider and old mutual friends, such as Moisé Soave and Moisé Coen Porto (1834–1918) in Venice, Lelio della Torre (1805–1871) in Padua and Eude Lolli (1826–1904) in Gorizia. This epistolary chronicle is particularly important when following the different stages of the posthumous publication of Shadal’s works, in which Steinschneider showed a constant and keen interest. Isaia Luzzatto recommends that Steinschneider subscribe to the publications printed in Przemysl by Eisig Gräber. Isaia also established the contact between the Jewish Italian-language journal published in Corfù, Il Mosé—whose editor and founder, the chief rabbi of the island, Giuseppe Emanuele Levi, was Isaia’s close friend—and Stein- schneider, who published in it a series of articles on the history of the Jews on Crete.42 Shadal’s death seems also to have markedly affected Steinschneider’s contacts with other Italian Jews close to Luzzatto’s circle. That could be one of the reasons why, after 1865, the only contributions from Italy to the Hebräische Bibliographie came from non-Jewish scholars like Perreau and Lasinio.43 Thereafter Steinschneider’s links with Italy rapidly decreased in volume and in significance. The Shadal-Steinschneider correspondence is of pivotal importance for the reconstruction of the network of relationships that the Berlin bibliographer developed with Italy, from the mid-nineteenth century onward. Luzzatto not only was the earliest of his Italian correspondents, but he also played the role of mediator between Steinschneider and most of his Jewish and non-Jewish Italian contacts.

42 M. Steinschneider, “Candia. Cenni di storia letteraria,” Il Mosé, Antologia Israelitica 2 (1879), 3 (1880), 4 (1881), 5 (1882). At JTS there is a letter of July 6, 1880, to Stein- schneider concerning a Hebrew manuscript belonging to Rabbi Giuseppe Emanuele Levi. 43 However, it cannot be excluded that the shrinking number of contributors to HB was also connected with the explicit wish not to open the journal to new subscribers, as announced in its third-year issue (1860). 422 asher salah

A careful reading of Shadal’s letters shows him to be the intermediary between Steinschneider and other illustrious members of Padua’s Jewish community, such as the bibliophile Giuseppe Almanzi44 and the poet Avraham Salom (1793–1866).45 Only a few of their letters have reached us, which leads us to believe that their relationship was never particularly close or regular, since it is mainly Shadal, and almost never Almanzi or Salom, who informs Steinschneider about their activities. A quick overview of the five Almanzi letters is sufficient to note that they were always sent to Steinschneider through Shadal, who in many instances added personal glosses and comments before posting them to Berlin. It was Shadal who took the trouble to transmit Steinschneider’s answers to Almanzi.46 This explains why the only extant letter by Steinschneider to Almanzi is to be found among Shadal’s documents at the Centro Bibliografico in Rome. In the case of Almanzi, an outstanding Hebraist, Steinschneider’s personal meeting with him in Padua in August 1852 explains why they continued to correspond afterward only in Italian.47 Most probably S. D. Luzzatto himself advised Steinschneider to contact Moisé Soave, a humble schoolteacher, but a passionate collector

44 The catalogue of his library was redacted and published by S. D. Luzzatto (Padua: Bianchi, 1864), after it had appeared in different issues of HB from 1861 onward. 45 No monograph has yet been devoted to this important Hebrew poet. A bibliography of his writings can be found in A. Salah, La République des Lettres (Leiden: Brill, 2007), p. 507. 46 In a letter dated May 9, 1854, Shadal writes to Steinschneider: “Your letter was sent to me in Venice . . . on the 5th I came back and I read it to Almanzi, who is not feeling well, and on the evening of the 7th I was at his place for two hours, and he did everything he could to find the books needed to resolve your doubts.” (“la sua lettera mi fu mandata a Venezia . . . il 5 tornai qui e la lessi ad Almanzi, il quale non gode di perfetta salute, e nella sera del 7 fui da lui 2 ore, ed egli si diede tutta la pena di cercare i libri necessari per sciogliere i di Lei dubbi.”) Luzzatto, Epistolario, pp. 779–780. Cf. also the brief message sent from Padua to Berlin on February 22, 1856, which reads as follows: “My dearest friend, I am awaiting your words. In the meantime I send you two notes from Mr Almanzi. Keep well, be assured of my affections.” (“Carissimo Amico, attendo suoi caratteri. Intanto le presento due biglietti del Sign. Almanzi. Stia bene e mi creda suo affezionatissimo, Shadal.”) This perhaps explains why two of Almanzi’s letters were wrongly inserted among Shadal’s at JTS. 47 In a letter dated August 31, 1852, now at JTS, Almanzi writes: “Since I’ve had the pleasure of making your personal acquaintance, I can also appreciate your extraordinary erudition as well as your mastery of our harmonious Italian language. I therefore prefer to write in this language.” (“All’atto ch’ebbi testé il piacere di fare la vostra personale conoscenza ebbi anco quello di riconoscere la sua straordinaria erudizione ed in pari tempo la vostra perizia nell’armoniosa nostra lingua italiana. Egli è perciò che preferisco scrivere in tale favella.”) steinschneider and italy 423 of Jewish writings and author of valuable historical and philological studies.48 Shadal had been acquainted with Soave since 1843, first as his teacher, then as one of his most intimate friends, sharing with him joys and misfortunes, and they frequently visited each other in Padua and in Venice.49 As Soave did not publish anything of importance until the 1860s, Steinschneider would not have discovered his remarkable bibliographical competencies without Shadal’s recommendation. Steinschneider and Soave met in Venice in August 1852. According to the paleographer and cultural historian Armando Petrucci, 19th-century scholarly correspondences can be subdivided into two categories: those based on partner-like parity and open cultural discourse, and those which testify to a fundamental status disparity.50 To the first category belongs, no doubt, the exchange of letters between Steinschneider and S. D. Luzzatto; to the second, the one between Steinschneider and Soave. Soave’s letters are in fact immediately recognizable by the constant requests he addresses to Steinschneider, whose answers must have been extremely brief and dry, as becomes an eminent authority in his field, which Steinschneider certainly was, already internationally recognized. Soave’s letters are characterized by very long introductory clauses, full of exaggeratedly deferential decla- rations and praise for the addressee, interwoven with apologies and requests for help, amid protestations of his own honesty, typically concluded by elaborate wishes for health and success addressed to Stein- schneider, his family and mutual friends, such as the Berlin bookseller Adolph Asher (1800–1853), who passed away in Venice and whom Soave had been very fond of, welcoming his son’s visit to his grave in Venice in 1861. Usually Soave’s letters deal with books transactions, mostly incunabula and rare Hebrew editions, but sometimes Italian literary classics, too, which interested Steinschneider and his Berlin circle of friends. Soave often complains of his precarious economic situation and does not hesitate to ask for advances on the books he sold in Germany. His letters reveal a frustrated man, unfulfilled in his work, but with strong

48 On this fascinating teacher and erudite, fervid patriot and promoter of a reformed Judaism in Italy, cf.: C. Musatti, “Il maestro Moisé Soave,” Archivio Veneto 36 (1888): 383–397; 37 (1889): 381–419; M. Berengo, “Luigi Luzzatti e la tradizione ebraica,” Atti del convegno internazionale di studio su Luigi Luzzatti e il suo tempo (Venice, November 7–9, 1991). 49 Letter of February 22, 1857. 50 Armando Petrucci, Scrivere lettere (Bari: Editori Laterza, 2008). 424 asher salah intellectual ambitions, burdened by having to maintain a large family (with 6 sons); by tragic events, such as the long agony and death of his beloved daughter, barely sixteen years old, on June 20, 1861; by the uncertain political situation of Venice caused by the wars between Piedmont and Austria; and by his longing for professional change and a higher social status. Steinschneider seems to have always tried to obtain substantial discounts from Soave, who in turn kept saying how he was doing everything to get the best prices. Steinschneider’s letters must have been full of what Soave calls kinot (or laments), compelling the Italian to proclaim his disinterested friendship and his love for science. It is easy to infer the haughtiness and impatience of Stein- schneider’s answers from the apologies of his correspondent, who suf- fers from being treated as a vile, untrustworthy and greedy merchant. On February 6, 1856, he writes entreatingly: “I think that after having known each other for several years, you should treat me with more frankness; other personalities, honorable and celebrated like yourself, have trusted and (still) trust me and have no reason to regret it because my banner is: honesty.”51 On August 21, 1857, Steinschneider gives Shadal a harsh judgment of Soave’s character: “His fate is not unique; laziness together with arrogance and hypocrisy are always more rewarded than diligence.”52 And two years later, on January 14, 1858, Soave threatens to break off all contact, saying: “After ﬁve years of doing business together you want us to act as merchants, so I am responding (to you) as a merchant.”53 That is why their correspondence was to be interrupted for the next two years, and when they did renew their friendship, its tone was more distanced, the contact less frequent. In fact Soave’s letters to Steinschneider can be divided into two periods. Most of the 65 letters preserved at the JTS were written between

51 Letter of February 6, 1856: “mi pare che dopo qualche anno che ci conosciamo Ella dovrebbe trattarmi con più schiettezza, altri personaggi onorati e celebri come lei si conﬁdarono e si conﬁdano in me e non hanno motivo di pentirsi perche il mio vessillo è: onestà.” 52 “Il suo fato non è singolare; l’ozio unito all’arroganza coll’ipocrisia sempre trova più spesso rimunerazione che la diligenza” (CB, No. 1267). 53 Letter of January 14, 1858: “Dopo cinque anni che facciamo affari ella vuole che trattiamo da mercanti ed io rispondo da mercante.” steinschneider and italy 425

September 1852 and November 1865, all of them from Venice54 and in Italian, apart from one in Hebrew dated April 1, 1863. After Shadal’s death their relationship broke down and was only to be resumed twelve years later, this time on a more equal footing. The catalyst was an article which Steinschneider sent in September 1877 to the Vessillo Israelitico, a Jewish journal in Casale Monferrato in Piedmont,55 with the intention of ﬁlling some lacunae in his articles published in Il Buonarroti some years before, speciﬁcally the ones concerning Jewish literature in 18th-century Italy.56 His bibliographical remarks contained an appeal to both scholars and readers of the Vessillo to share with him their observations and to add further information about Jewish writers of the Enlightenment.57 Between 1877 and 1878 Soave reacted with nine letters.58 Soave in fact had gathered over time a very important collection of 17th- and 18th-century liturgical texts and occasional poetry, the only material he could afford to purchase privately, while selling older manuscripts and incunabula, which is what interested the bigger and wealthier collectors of Judaica of his day. Soave’s response was so learned and insightful that Steinschneider wrote a second and a third commentary,

54 Owing to lack of funds, Soave’s travels outside Venice were extremely limited. This is one of the reasons why he so insistently tried to persuade Steinschneider to come again to Venice for a visit. Only in 1860 did Soave allow himself to travel to Lombardy and to the ex-duchies of Parma and Modena. 55 As editor and one of the founders of this periodical, Flamino Servi (1841–1904), born in Pitigliano, Tuscany, but rabbi in Casale Monferrato, Piedmont, collaborated with Steinschneider on some Tuscan-language questions. Cf. M. Steinschneider, Let- teratura italiana dei Giudei. Cenni (Rome: Tipografia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche, 1884), p. 40. 56 The articles, which appeared in the Roman journal directed by Enrico Narducci, Il Buonarroti, are Series II, 6 (1871), 7 (1873) and 11 (1876) and were later collected in the same monographic volume mentioned just above: Steinschneider, Letteratura Italiana dei Giudei. 57 The letter, actually written in September 1877, was published in three separate parts. Cf. M. Steinschneider, “Letteratura italiana dei giudei,” Vessillo Israelitico 25 (1877): 309–311, 340–341 & 26 (1878): 13–16. 58 M. Soave, “All’Illustre Mosé Dr. Steinschneider di Berlino,” Vessillo Israelitico 25 (1877): 378. This letter was followed by 8 others; cf. Vessillo Israelitico 26 (1878): 54–58 (December 28, 1877); 79–84 (February 7, 1878); 111–119 (February 25 and March 22, 1878); 149–153 (April 14, 1878); 187–190 (May 24, 1878); 217–221 ( June 9, 1878); 251–253 ( July 18, 1878); 281–283 (August 15, 1878). 426 asher salah issued in installments in the Vessillo,59 to which Soave again answered promptly.60 That same year Steinschneider published another essay comple- menting the third one;61 this fourth article specifically concerned rare 18th-century bibliographical items.62 Soave could now display all his erudition and replied with six further letters that, together with the previous nine, even today, provide basic source material for anyone undertaking the study of 18th-century Italian Jewish literature;63 these, however, despite Steinschneider’s appreciation and their lasting importance, he never succeeded in having published as a separate volume. Although Soave was not a professional scholar, from now on Stein- schneider kept referring to him—whose faith in liberalism and emancipation he shared—with esteem and affection until his death, making good use of his observations and letters when compiling his grand picture of Italian Jewish literature, “Die Italienische Litteratur der Juden,” published in Monatschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Juden- tums between 1898 and 1900. The very tone of Soave’s last two letters (1878) at the JTS testifies to the respect that the Berlin bibliographer finally accorded him: here the Venetian schoolmaster, on the occasion of Abraham Berliner’s visit to his home, serenely reviews the main stages of his life, recalling his reformist ideals and his own intellectual and scholarly contribution to modern Judaism. We have only scant information on Steinschneider’s other Italian correspondents, mostly one or two generations younger than him. The majority were rabbis with diplomas from the Collegio Rabbinico in Padua, where they had been trained in historical and philological

59 M. Steinschneider, “Letteratura italiana dei Giudei. Articolo II,” Vessillo Israelitico 26 (1878): 353–354; 375–377; 27 (1879): 16–18, 39–41 (November 1878); “Lettera- tura giudaica italiana. Articolo III,” Vessillo Israelitico 27 (1879): 70–73. 60 M. Soave, “All’Illustre Maurizio Dr. Steinschneider in Berlino,” Vessillo Israelitico 27 (1879): 104–108 (February 24, 1879). 61 M. Steinschneider, “Letteratura giudaica italiana,” Vessillo Israelitico 27 (1879): 203–207 (May 1879). 62 M. Steinschneider, “Letteratura giudaica italiana. Articolo IV,” Vessillo Israeli- tico 27 (1879): 270–272, 304–306, 365–368, with two appendices; 28 (1880):146–150 ( June 1, 1879). 63 M. Soave, “All’Illustre M. Dr. Steinschneider in Berlino. Lettera XI,” Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880): 16–18 ( January 2, 1880); “Lettera XII,” Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880): 45–48 ( January 22, 1880); “Lettera XIII,” Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880): 80–86 (February 15, 1880); “Lettera XIV,” Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880): 115–120 (March 25, 1880); “Lettera XV,” Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880): 174–178 (April 22, 1880); “Let- tera XVI,” Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880): 211–214 (May 18, 1880). steinschneider and italy 427 studies in the spirit of German Wissenschaft. Steinschneider’s privileged relationship with Padua’s rabbinical college, through its teachers and pupils,64 is surprising in view of his repeatedly expressed opposition to such a non-university institution that trained rabbis and, in his words, promoted “systematic hypocrisy and scholarly immaturity.”65 The fact that S. D. Luzzatto was one of its principal teachers—though extremely critical of the institution’s management—undoubtedly contributed to the privileged links between Steinschneider and some of its professors and their most promising rabbinical pupils in Padua, notwithstanding his aversion to rabbinical seminaries elsewhere in Europe. Apart from Shadal, Steinschneider was in fact on good terms with the other pillar of Padua’s Collegio Rabbinico, Lelio della Torre. Two of his letters have been preserved in the JTS collection, both written in German, a language in which this illustrious personality of the Italian branch of the German Wissenschaft des Judentums was perfectly ﬂuent. Della Torre’s fame has been somehow obscured by that of Shadal’s, with whom he entertained a fair relationship, albeit at times threatened by personal rivalries.66 It is also highly probable, to infer from certain references to exchanges of information, that Steinschneider was in contact with the third major teacher in Padua, Eude Lolli, although no extant documentation conﬁrms or hints at the nature of their relationship.67 The eldest in the group of the Collegio Rabbinico graduates was Marco Mortara (1815–1894), from 1842 onward rabbi in Mantua.68

64 For the history of this institution and for a selected bibliography about its members, cf. M. Del Bianco Cotrozzi, Il collegio rabbinico di Padova. Un’istituzione religiosa dell’ebraismo sulla via dell’Emancipazione (Florence: Olschki, 1995). 65 “Anstalten zur Forterhaltung des Rabbinerstandes in der Form, welche ihm die letzten Jahrhunderte gegeben, fördern heute systematische Heuchelei und wissenschaftliche Unreife.” Letter to Kayserling in 1876 printed in A. Marx, “Stein- schneideriana II,” p. 521; reprint, p. 30. 66 In his obituary on della Torre in HB 12 (1872): 68, Steinschneider revealingly noted: “On July 9, 1871, Hillel (Lelio) della Torre died, professor at the Rabbin. College in Padua and an elegant stylist. The discord that prevailed between him and S. D. Luzzato (which we infer from some of the latter’s letters) perhaps contributed to the fact that this institute never had a greater inﬂuence.”) (“am 9. July 1871 starb Hillel (Lelio) della Torre, Professor an dem Collegium rabbin. in Padua, ein eleganter Stylist. Die Disharmonie, welche zwischen ihm und S. D. Luzzatto (die wir aus man- chen Briefen des letzteren entnehmen) herrschte, hat vielleicht dazu beigetragen, dass dieses Institut niemals eine grössere Ausdehnung erlangte.”) 67 Shadal’s letter of February 18, 1879, at JTS. 68 Steinschneider himself translated the notes written by Mortara on Mantua’s Jewish-community library and published in HB beginning in 1858, as well as the 428 asher salah

Mortara left 15 letters from 1858 to 1880, all of them in Italian. The relationship with Mortara cannot have been much older than that, since it is in 1857 that Shadal first mentions Mortara as “my most beloved student” (“mio amatissimo talmid”). Until 1858 it was Luz- zatto who personally intervened to ask Steinschneider to send at least three copies of the Hebräische Bibliographie to Padua, one for himself, one for Almanzi and one for Mortara. Shadal succeeded in drawing Steinschneider’s attention to Mortara’s scholarly qualities, although it was to take Steinschneider some years and many corrections from Shadal to correctly spell Mortara’s name, which he kept confusing with the Portuguese “Morteira.” Mortara’s first collaboration with Steinschneider dealt with certain biographical details about Doctor Samuel Vita Della Volta (1772–1853), whose outstanding library continued to interest Steinschneider many years after its owner’s death in Mantua, as we can see from the repeated requests that Steinschneider sent to both Soave and Shadal on this issue. From Shadal’s letters to Steinschneider we learn that Mortara was able to purchase for himself a good part of Della Volta’s estate, including his rich library.69 This marked only the beginning of an extremely steady and fruitful collaboration, based on a common passion for bibliographical research and reinforced by similar leanings toward a moderate version of liberal Judaism. Steinschneider lost no time in having his Hebräische Bibliogra- phie print the first results of Rabbi Mortara’s efforts to catalogue the Mantuan Jewish community’s book and manuscript collection.70 That Mortara faced considerable difficulties in this task is evidenced by its completion only twenty years later. Several of Mortara’s and Shadal’s letters indicate that Mortara had to interrupt his work because of a fire that on Purim eve in 1861 burned the main hall of Mantua’s Talmud Torah. Luzzatto writes, e.g., on April 1, 1862: “The library was saved with great exertion from the fire, but damaged by the water. That is why Mortara could not continue with his catalogue.”71 We should not forget that from 1859 to 1861 the Jewish community of Mantua was

rabbi’s essays on the censorship of Hebrew books, which appeared in the 1862 issue of the same journal. 69 After Mortara’s death his collection was purchased by David Kaufmann (1852– 1899). 70 Marco Mortara, “Die Gemeindebibliothek zu Mantua, beschrieben von Rab- biner Mortara (aus dem Ital. übersetzt von M. St.),” HB 1 (1858): 68–69; 2 (1859): 19–20, 48–49, 74–79, 93–94; 3 (1860): 32–34, 57–58. 71 Letter of April 1, 1862, at JTS (Index, No. 1149): “La biblioteca con gran fatica steinschneider and italy 429 openly up in arms against the rabbinical seminary of Padua, refusing to pay the fees of its professors, among them Luzzatto, who expressed his unease, complaining about the situation and the pettiness of his contemporaries, to Steinschneider himself. Mortara, as Luzzatto’s disciple and close to the Collegio Rabbinico’s circle, certainly also found himself in dire straits and had to abandon his bibliographical studies for a while. Another of Luzzatto’s most beloved students was Moisé Coen Porto. Born in Venice in 1834, he graduated, with some difficulties, as a rabbi in Padua in 1858 and served as the spiritual leader of the Jewish community in Venice from 1859 until his death in Mantua in 1918. A collector of Judaica, though more modestly than Mortara or Soave, and translator into Italian of Shadal’s Torah Nidreshet in 1879, he got to know Steinschneider through Shadal’s son, Isaia. On March 10, 1879, he wrote to Steinschneider for the first time to obtain some bibliographical clarifications on the contents of some of the aforementioned articles published in the Vessillo Israelitico by Soave and Steinschneider. In the same year Coen Porto wrote a letter to Steinschneider, printed in Trieste’s Corriere Israelitico in 1880, apparently wanting to compete with Soave’s more erudite ones.72 Soave and Coen Porto were nevertheless on good terms and when Soave passed away, it was Coen Porto who wrote his obituary in Il Mosé in 1883. Two other Padua-trained rabbis addressed two co-signed letters to Steinschneider with additions to the latter’s observations in the Vessillo Israelitico,73 further proof of the resonance his articles had among Ital- ian Jews of the time. The first is Giuseppe Jaré (Mantua 1840–Ferrara 1915), rabbi in Mantua from 1868 to 1880 and, thereafter until his death, occupant of Ferrara’s rabbinical chair, historian and one of the first biographers of Moses Hayyim Luzzatto (1707–1747). From a letter by Shadal to Steinschneider on September 27, 1863, we are informed

fu salvata dal fuoco ma fu lesa dall’acqua. Ecco perché Mortara non ha più potuto continuare il suo catalogo.” 72 M. Coen Porto, “A Steinschneider sulle Hebree Lettioni di Nida etc. per Rabbi Biniamin d’Arodano, tradotto per Rabbi Giacob Alpron, Venezia 1710,” Corriere Israelitico 29 (1880): 64–65. The letter was written in July 1879. 73 The journal published them under the same title of “Lettere al Dr. M. Stein- schneider sulla letteratura giudaica italiana,” in Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880). In fact the letter by G. Jaré, written in Mantua on August 19, 1879, can be found on pp. 278–282, while the one by M. Lattes of August 3, 1879, is on pp. 307–310; 339–344; 370–375 (annotated by Steinschneider himself ). 430 asher salah that Jaré was involved in preparing Almanzi’s catalogue index, published the following year in Padua and prefaced by Shadal himself. On December 16, 1863, Steinschneider wrote to Shadal expressing his immense gratitude to Jaré for his excellent work.74 No letters by Jaré exist today in the JTS collection, but Steinschneider’s mention of a letter by Jaré, dated in February 1879, concerning some Jewish printers in Leghorn75 enables us to deduce that the correspondence must have been more substantial. The second is Moisé Lattes (1846–1883), son of Abram Lattes, chief rabbi of Venice before Moisé Coen Porto. He authored the catalogue of the Hebrew codices in the Biblioteca Marciana in 1882 and various monographs on Italian Jewish history. A teacher, like Soave, in Padua’s Jewish elementary school, he visited Steinschneider in Berlin. In the ﬁrst of his ﬁve letters still extant at the JTS, dated December 11, 1879, Lattes recalls with gratitude the bibliographer’s hospitality, probably referring to the Passover Seder of 1864 which he celebrated together with the Steinschneiders.76 Steinschneider’s reply to it and the second one, dated June 18, 1880, appeared in the Vessillo Israelitico,77 the journal that published on September 21, 1881, Lattes’ reaction to Steinschneider’s articles on anti-Jewish literature together with the latter’s notes.78 We know from Steinschneider himself that he corresponded with Benedetto Levi (1846–1880), another former student of the Collegio Rabbinico in Padua, the city where Levi later became rabbi; he was also appointed rabbi in Ferrara and in Nice. The contact with Stein- schneider was certainly the result of recommendations by Isaia Luz- zatto, who on March 2, 1876, writes to Berlin that Benedetto Levi is “the best pupil produced by Padua’s collegio rabbinico in the last years, perhaps its last torch.”79 It was Levi, however, who directly addressed Steinschneider in a letter dated September 17, 1875, to

74 CB, No. 1595. 75 M. Steinschneider, “Letteratura giudaica italiana,” Vessillo Israelitico 27 (1879): 203. On page 206 he quotes a long excerpt from Jaré’s letter about the poet Salomone Fiorentino (1743–1815). 76 Steinschneider’s letter to Shadal, June 16, 1864 (CB, No. 1263). 77 For Steinschneider’s comments on M. Lattes’ letters, see Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880): 375. 78 M. Lattes, “Letteratura antigiudaica in lingua italiana,” Vessillo Israelitico 30 (1882): 12–13. 79 Letter of March 2, 1876, at JTS: “il miglior allievo che abbia dato il collegio rabbinico di Padova negli ultimi tempi; e si può dire che ne fu l’ultima fiaccola.” steinschneider and italy 431 get the bibliographer’s opinion on his biographies of Italian rabbis, such as Isacco Lampronti (1679–1756), Yaaqov Olmo (c.1690–1752) and Felice Umano, all once active in Ferrara. Levi also sent to Stein- schneider some comments on his learned remarks in the Vessillo Israel- itico, but these were never published.80 In 1876 Steinschneider acknowledged receiving information on new Italian books and copies of Italian Jewish newspapers through Rabbi Leone Luzzatto, born in 1841, historian of Venice and translator of Maimonides, who provided him with the latest Italian bibliographical information. Already as a student at the Collegio Rabbinico in Padua (1861–1868), Leone Luzzatto subscribed to the Hebräische Bibliographie and asked Shadal for missing copies. In December 1863 Steinschneider asks Shadal to thank Leone for sending a book with a note.81 S. D. Luzzatto had to make clear to Steinschneider that Leone Luzzatto was neither his son nor a member of his family, despite the same surname. Nevertheless, the first known letter by Leone Luzzatto to Steinschneider was sent on July 30, 1869, and they continued to correspond at irregular intervals informing one another of the latest bibliographical news until 1882. After the deaths of Shadal and of Soave, Steinschneider’s exchange of letters with Italians, scholars or non-scholars, was almost exclusively devoted to specific occasion or family issues. Most of the letters from the 1870s onward are requests addressed to him from private Jews in all parts of the peninsula for genealogical information about their families, like Alberto del Vecchio from Lugo di Romagna in 1875 and Alessandro Costantini from Ancona in April 1894. Others sent bibliographical news to Germany, like Professor Emanuele Civita from Mantua in 1882, the antiquarian and later printer Leo S. Olschki in 1885, who wrote in German from Verona in 1876, or Marco Osimo, son of Leone (d.1869), chief rabbi of Padua. All these letters are generally in Italian with the exception of two short ones in Hebrew, one signed by the Triestine Jewish poet David Ara, the other sent by Mordekhai Yaaqov Di Capua from Rome in 1876, expressing the gratitude of the Roman Jewish community for Steinschneider’s contribution to the history of this ancient community.

80 M. Steinschneider, “Letteratura giudaica italiana,” Vessillo Israelitico 27 (1879): 205, where he quotes a letter of October 1877. 81 Letter of December 16, 1863 (CB, No. 1595). 432 asher salah

One question seems now of interest: did Steinschneider leave any Italian disciples? We only know the names of two Italian Jews, a certain Modona and a Sacerdote, who were apparently close to Stein- schneider in his old age in Berlin. At least these names turn up on the list of those of his former pupils who were invited to contribute to the volume to commemorate the centenary of his birth, which never appeared because of the First World War.82 Sacerdote is clearly to be identiﬁed as Gustavo Sacerdote (1867–1948), a bibliographer, writer and newspaperman who was Steinschneider’s student in Berlin in the years 1892–1895.83 Various of his short notes, all sent in 1894–1895, inviting Steinschneider to social and musical events in Berlin or expressing thanks for having been invited to his place, are to be found in the collection of letters at the JTS. Steinschneider acknowledges without stint the help received from his pupil Sacerdote,84 who contributed an article to the volume celebrating his teacher’s 80th birthday in 1896.85 In April 1906 Sacerdote was again in Berlin, from where he sent a postcard informing his former teacher about an article he had published on his work in the Milan socialist newspaper Il Tempo. Modona is probably a relative of Leonello (Cento 1841–1902), the cataloguer of Hebrew manuscripts at the University of Bologna in 1889; one letter of his exists at the JTS, written from Bologna on March 4, 1885,86 mentioning previous epistolary exchanges and asking Steinschneider to endorse his catalogue in the Hebräische Bibliographie, a request the latter did not fulﬁll.

82 Kohut, “Steinschneideriana I” (reprint), p. 59. 83 In a note of November 11, 1892, he informs Steinschneider that he will not be able to attend one of his classes because of an Italian party the next day in Berlin. He is also mentioned among the last of Steinschneider’s students in Kohut, “Stein- schneideriana I” (reprint), p. 18. 84 M. Steinschneider, HÜ, p. XII. 85 G. Sacerdote, “Il trattato del pentagono e del decagono di Abu Kamil Shogia ben Aslam ben Muhammed per la prima volta pubblicato in italiano,” pp. 169–194 in Festschrift zum Achtzigsten Geburtstage Moritz Steinschneiders (Leipzig: O. Harrassowitz, 1896). 86 After Leonello Modona’s death, his son-in-law, Davide Ghiron, wrote from Casale Monferrato to Steinschneider in French to try to sell the collection of rare books which Leonello had amassed during the years he was “sous-bibliothécaire” of the Palatina library in Parma. steinschneider and italy 433 b) Correspondence with Christian Scholars Steinschneider was among the few 19th-century scholars north of the Alps who were knowledgeable enough to appreciate the intellectual contributions of Italian authors and scholars. He often declared his debt to the studies of Michele Amari (1806–1889) on the Muslims in Sicily,87 Giuseppe Pitré (1841–1916), pioneer in ethnography and Italian folklore, and Alessandro D’Ancona (1835–1914) on the theatre and the literature of the Renaissance. Nevertheless we will not find these names in his epistolary collection, a quite surprising fact, especially with respect to D’Ancona, one of the rare Italian Jewish scholars whose correspondence network could be compared both in extent and in quantity with Steinschneider’s. Only a few letters are extant written by a colleague of D’Ancona’s at Pisa University, Domenico Compa- retti (1835–1927), one of Italy’s chief classical scholars, who shared with D’Ancona an interest in popular traditions.88 Both Comparetti and D’Ancona were important figures in Italian liberalism and representatives of the new spirit of tolerance toward the Jews in post-Risor- gimento Italy, D’Ancona as one the first Jews to be appointed professor of Italian literature in Pisa, one of the most prestigious universities of the newly independent monarchy, Comparetti as the husband of the Odessa Jewess Elena Raffalovich (1842–1918), one of the first inter- marriages of the time. Comparetti’s three letters in Italian, written in 1871 and now at the JTS, are of considerable interest since they throw light on the last stages of his writing of the erudite masterpiece with which his fame is still linked: Virgilio nel Medio Evo, published in two volumes in Leghorn in 1872.89

87 Steinschneider tried to contact at least one of the leading scholars of Jewish and Arabic Sicily, Isidoro La Lumia (1823–1879), author of an excellent history of the Jews in Sicily, Gli ebrei in Sicilia (Palermo: Sellerio, 1984), but his letter arrived too late, so that Lumia’s brother replied from Palermo in 1881 with an announcement of his death. 88 Together with Alessandro D’Ancona, Comparetti edited a 9-volume collection of Italian national songs and stories, Canti e racconti del popolo italiano (Turin: Loescher, 1870–1891). 89 My researches at the Biblioteca Umanistica of Florence University, where Com- paretti’s literary estate is preserved, failed to uncover any of the letters we are sure Steinschneider wrote to his Florentine colleague. Nor are any to be found in the recent Catalogo generale del fondo Domenico Comparetti, carteggio e manoscritti, a cura di Maria Grazia Macconi e Antonella Squilloni (Messina: Dipartimento di ﬁlologia e linguistica, Università degli studi, 2002). 434 asher salah

In choosing his correspondents, Steinschneider relied mostly on mutual acquaintances to recommend to him only people interested in establishing lasting relationships based on mutual esteem and the wish to exchange information. Again in this case it was S. D. Luzzatto who put Steinschneider in contact with two of his most important non-Jewish Italian correspondents, the Roman prince Baldassarre Boncompagni Ludovisi (1821– 1894) and the Florentine professor Fausto Lasinio (1831–1914). On April 23, 1857, Shadal writes to his friend in Berlin that he received a request for information from “a Catholic, an important person who deals with the mathematical sciences” and had heard of Stein- schneider’s reputation.90 As can be learned from the letter, dated December 24, 1856, addressed by Shadal to Marco Mortara, Boncom- pagni had contacted Shadal at the end of 1856 through a mutual friend, a professor at Milan (probably Francesco Longhena), for the translation of some difficult passages by Ibn Ezra on mathematical issues.91 Between Steinschneider and Boncompagni a solid friendship was soon established, to last for almost forty years, as well as a close collaboration that would result in an abundant scientific output. Baldassarre Boncompagni had established a typography workshop in the 1850s, the Tipografia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche, devoted mainly to works dealing with the history and bibliography of mathematics, and he published, from 1868 to 1887, a periodical specializing in this field, the Bullettino di Bibliografia e di Storia delle Scienze Matematiche et Fisiche.92 Boncompagni provided his friend with partial copies of manuscripts in Rome and Paris93 and in 1884 published both Steinschneider’s

90 “un cattolico, alto Personaggio, che si occupa delle scienze matematiche”: Luz- zatto, Epistolario, p. 910. 91 Luzzatto, Epistolario, p. 881. 92 Steinschneider published a number of lengthy papers in this periodical. Cf. Bul- lettino di Bibliograﬁa e di Storia delle Scienze Matematiche e Fisiche (Bologna: Ristampa Forni, 1966), I (1868): 33–40; IV (1871): 257–302; V (1872): 427–434; X (1877): 313; XII (1879): 345–351; XIII (1880): 413–436; XIV (1881): 721–740; XV (1882): 170–173; XVI (1883): 505–513; XVII (1884): 765–794; XX (1887): 575ff. This list should be regarded as a correction of several mistakes in G. A. Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Prof. Dr. M. Steinschneider,” pp. V–XXXIX, Festschrift zum achtzigsten Geburtstage M. Steinschneiders, as well as a supplement to it. 93 Steinschneider acknowledged the Prince’s generosity and help in HÜ, p. XII: “Seit 1857 hat Fürst B. Boncompagni in Rom seine bekannte unerschöpﬂiche Liberalität auch auf mich ausgedehnt; ich verdanke derselben sehr viele Durchzeichnungen, Aus- züge, Nachrichten über mss. des Vaticans, der Pariser und seiner eigenen Bibliothek.” steinschneider and italy 435

Letteratura delle donne and Letteratura Italiana dei Giudei in his printing house. Conversely, Steinschneider contributed to the dissemination of Bon- compagni’s work with different articles which appeared in the Leipzig library-science journal, Serapeum, and elsewhere.94 It is to Boncompag- ni’s good offices that we owe what is at present the most important collection of Steinschneider’s published letters.95 On the other hand, it was Steinschneider who acted as middleman between Boncompagni and the librarian Antonius van der Linde.96 Even if their relationship was fruitful mainly in the fields of the history of sciences and Arabic studies, it is worthwhile to note the peculiarity of the ties between two men seemingly poles apart in everything, except for their common passion for bibliographical erudition. Prince Boncompagni, disciple of the mathematician Barnaba Tortolini (1808–1874) and member of the Pontificia Accademia dei Nuovi Lincei since its foundation in 1847, belonged to an illustrious, noble family of the Papal States. In contrast to Steinschneider’s liberalism, Boncompagni was an intransigent follower of the Pope, even going so far as to decline the offer by Quintino Sella, education minister of the new Italian monarchy, for a seat in the Italian Senate because he did not recognize the legitimacy of the new government. Furthermore, Boncompagni saw science as something independent of culture in general and historiography in particular,

Cf. also M. Steinschneider, “Une dedicace de Abraham de Balmes au Cardinal Grimani,” Revue d’Etudes Juives 5 (1883): 113, where he describes the prince as “ce noble et libéral savant, qui m’a fourni pendant vingt-cinq années tant de matériaux intéressants.” 94 M. Steinschneider, “Die Schriften des Fürsten Boncompagni,” Serapeum, Zeit- schrift für Bibliothekwissenschaft, Handschriftenkunde und ältere Literatur 19 (1858): 33–41, 96, 278–281; 24 (1863): 97–108. 95 These letters were published in different volumes and articles: Les ouvrages du prince Boncompagni concernant l’histoire des sciences mathématiques (Rome: Tipografia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche, 1859); Intorno ad alcuni matematici del medioevo ed alle opere da essi composte. Lettere di M.S. a B.B. (Rome: Tipografia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche, 1863); “Intorno ad alcuni passi d’opere del medio evo relativi alla calamita,” Bullettino di Bibliografia e di Storia IV (1871): 257–302 (in fact six letters sent by Steinschneider to Boncompagni, Nos. 1 & 2 in 1868, Nos. 3 & 4 in 1869, Nos. 5 & 6 in 1871); Lettere intorno ad alcuni matematici arabi (Rome: Tipografia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche, 1872; “ ‘Rectification de quelques erreurs relatives au mathématicien arabe Ibn Al- Banna.’ Extrait d’une lettre adressée à Baldassarre Boncompagni par Steinschneider, 16 Juin, 1876,” Bullettino di Bibliografia e di Storia X (1877): 313. 96 As indicated by a note in Bullettino di Bibliografia e di Storia V (1872): 226. Dr. A.v.d. Linde (Haarlem 1833–Wiesbaden 1897) was, i.a., also a philologist and chess historian. 436 asher salah an opinion that contrasted with Steinschneider’s wish to coordinate the different fields of knowledge by using a sole research method. It is therefore not surprising to read in a letter to Shadal this judgment by Steinschneider about the prince: “He seems to me more an erudite than a sharp mind . . . in the Serapeum I acknowledged his generosity, though I fear that he often spends his money uselessly . . . but I say to myself that other men of his rank spend their money in follies much less praiseworthy.”97 Nevertheless, their common positivistic views and ethic, characterized by the strictest impartiality and objectivity, cemented their long-lasting friendship, beyond differences in religion, politics and intellectual inclinations. The Florentine Orientalist Fausto Lasinio (1831–1914), much closer to Steinschneider politically and methodologically, was introduced to him by Shadal in 1854 when Lasinio was barely in his twenties. For several years Luzzatto had already been in touch with the young man, corresponding with him in Hebrew and in Italian. He may likely have been recommended to him as a brilliant student of Semitic languages by his teacher Angelo Paggi (1789–1867), a Jewish Hebraist from Siena but resident in Florence, with whom Lasinio studied from 1847 to 1856. Later one of the most important 19th-century Italian Orien- talists, Lasinio was to become professor in Florence, after having lec- tured in Biblical and in Arabic-language studies in Pisa from 1862 to 1873. Apparently it was Steinschneider who asked his friend Luzzatto about the then very young Lasinio. Luzzatto writes on July 2, 1854, to Lasinio informing him that “this dr. Steinschneider has been working for a few years on a Catalogue of the Hebrew books at the Bodleian library, a grandiose work.”98 This was the beginning of an intense epistolary relationship between Steinschneider and Lasinio, of which 38

97 “Mi pare ch’è più erudito che ingegnoso . . . nel Serapeum ho fatto giustizia della sua liberalità, benché io tema ch’egli spenda il suo danaro non di rado senza profitto . . . mi dico però che altri uomini del suo rango spendono il loro denaro in manie molto meno lodabili.” Letter of July 13, 1863 (CB, No. 584). On Decem- ber 16 of the same year (CB, No d’inventario 1595) Steinschneider criticizes Bon- compagni’s works because “there is no argumentation, nothing but bibliographical notices recorded with an exactitude less pedantic than ridiculous!” (“non c’è nessun ragionamento, niente che notizie bibliografiche con esatezza meno pedantesca che ridicola!”) 98 Luzzatto, Epistolario, p. 783: “questo dr. Steinschneider da qualche anno sta lavo- rando intorno ad un Catalogo dei libri ebraici della Bodleiana, lavoro grandioso.” steinschneider and italy 437 letters remain, sent between 1870 and 1881 from Pisa and Florence. Some other letters to Steinschneider are located among the Lasinio papers in the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana in Rome; however, in the collection of Lasinio’s personal writings recently catalogued by Profes- sor Ida Zatelli in Florence no such letters are to be found. The two met when Lasinio visited Berlin in 1881, having been invited as a member of the German Oriental Society to the congress on Orientalism there. Since 1860 Lasinio had been sending to Berlin the results of his research on Hebrew manuscripts at the Laurenzi- ana library in Florence, where he was a clerk. In the Hebräische Bib- liographie of 1863 he published in association with Steinschneider an important article on Talmud manuscripts.99 Moreover, Lasinio had various essays of Steinschneider’s published in the Bollettino Italiano di Studii Orientali, during his years on this journal’s editorial board, 1876– 1882. Steinschneider in turn dedicated to this friend his Polemische und apologetische Literatur in arabischer Sprache zwischen Muslimen, Christen und Juden.100 In a letter to the Orientalist and man of letters Count Angelo De Gubernatis (1840–1913), dated July 4, 1876, Lasinio speaks of Steinschneider’s merits; for his part Steinschneider stresses his appreciation for Lasinio’s method of studying biblical texts, insofar as he considers their study, like that of any other literary texts, to be inspired only by scientific objectivity and free from all religious prejudice.101 While Lasinio was an important figure in the renewal of Italian Oriental studies in the 1860s and 1870s, culminating in the convocation of the international congress of Semitic studies in Florence, it is quite surprising that Steinschneider apparently had no personal contacts among the younger generation of Italian Orientalists, many of whom were Lasinio’s pupils. As Comparetti’s friend, Lasinio could have been a bridge between Steinschneider and the group of scholars in Leghorn (Livorno) and Pisa gravitating around personalities such as

99 M. Steinschneider, “Bemerkungen über einige Handschriften der Medicea in Florenz, an Herrn Prof. Lasinio in Pisa gerichtet,” Jeschurun 6 (1868): 92–102. M. Steinschneider & F. Lasinio, “Handschriften des Talmuds,” HB 6 (1863): 39. 100 Pol. Lit. (1877), published by its author only after long preparation that had begun in 1862. 101 M. Steinschneider, “Eine Stimme aus Italien über das Studium des Bibeltexts,” HB 5 (1862): 57–59. 438 asher salah

Israel Costa, Avraham Barukh Piperno and Salvador De Benedetti,102 with whom he was not in touch, but whose works he frequently recommended to Steinschneider in his letters. Writing to Shadal on December 8, 1858, Steinschneider mentions his having contacted Elia Benamozegh (1823–1900), but in which matter we do not know. Indeed, Steinschneider was not happy about the books printed in Leg- horn, still an important center of Jewish mysticism in his day, and he writes to Shadal: “When we compare the works printed here [i.e., in Germany] with the products of the ‘barbarians’ in Leghorn, I believe that the German Jews should not be ashamed.”103 At the JTS there is a letter, dated August 22, 1879, sent to him by another Livornese, Sabato Morais (1823–1897), with some bibliographical questions. But since Morais had left Italy after getting his maskil or rabbinical degree in 1846, heading ﬁrst to London, then moving on to the United States, where he founded in 1886 the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, the letter, written in English, does not really belong to the Leg- horn intellectual milieu—a scene that seems not to have interested him, maybe owing to the inﬂuence of the strong anti-cabbalistic stance of his friend Shadal. Apparently Lasinio introduced Steinschneider only to David Cas- telli (1836–1901) of Florence, professor of Hebrew at the city’s Istituto di Studi Superiori Pratici e di Perfezionamento, of whom three letters from 1879 to 1882 remain.104 At the time Castelli was working on his edition of Shabbatai Donnolo’s commentary on Sefer HaYetzirah, based on two codices in the Biblioteca Laurenziana in Florence and then published in 1880 by Le Monnier. Lasinio and Castelli were extremely close and the last letter by Lasinio known at the JTS is in fact his recommendation of a certain Alberto Maioli, a student of Castelli’s in Florence, written in 1881. From occasional remarks in his writings, we know about the existence of an exchange of letters with two Catholic priests, Father

102 Israele Di Emanuele Costa (1819–1897) succeeded Avraham Barukh Piperno as rabbi in Leghorn in 1864. Piperno had been an early inﬂuence on Sabato Morais (see below). Salvador De Benedetti, from Novara, came to Leghorn in 1843 and became in 1862 the ﬁrst professor of Hebrew at the University of Pisa, where he died in 1891. 103 Letter dated December 23, 1857 (CB, No. 1602). 104 For an excellent monograph dedicated to this scholar, cf. C. Facchini, David Castelli. Ebraismo e scienze delle religioni tra Otto e Novecento (Brescia: Morcelliana, 2005). steinschneider and italy 439

Timoteo Bertelli (1826–1905) and Abbé Pietro Perreau. With the former, Steinschneider corresponded in 1867 about questions related to the introduction of the magnet in Europe during the Middle Ages,105 while with the latter, who from 1876 to 1888 was chief librarian at the Bibliotheca Palatina in Parma—and whom he invited repeatedly to contribute to the Hebräische Bibliographie—he had a longer correspondence, mainly about the Hebrew manuscripts belonging to the De Rossi collection in Parma; however, no letters of his can be found today at the JTS.106 A few notes from Perreau to Steinschneider are inserted in Fran- cesco Longhena’s letters to Berlin. Professor Longhena of Milan, who left 25 letters in Italian, was a famous authority in Italian studies, an art historian and translator and, as evidenced in these letters, imaginative and eclectically minded. Having been acquainted with the Milanese scholar for about ﬁve years, Shadal probably introduced him to Steinschneider in the early 1860s. Longhena offered his services to Steinschneider as a go-between for book and article exchanges with Prince Boncompagni. It is thanks to Longhena that Steinschneider had contacts with the Milanese publisher Daelli, who sent him copies of the magazine Il Politecnico and the works of the historian and Orientalist Michele Amari, hoping this would facilitate commercial openings in the German-speaking world, and also with young Enrico Giordani, who, in 1862, was travelling through various big German cities to widen his horizons in a way reminiscent of the “Grand Tour” of transalpine intellectuals in the other direction. Longhena’s letters to Steinschneider, besides offering many proposals for reports, are importuning, plaintive and gossipy. Each favor offered was invariably followed by a request for help for himself or his friends. Shadal mentioned to Steinschneider that Longhena’s money problems were due to his excessive fondness for ladies, which aroused his wife’s

105 The three letters by Bertelli at JTS concern the introduction of the compass to the West in the Middle Ages. The Barnabite father published important essays on the history of the magnet and was one of the main seismologists of his time. 106 That their correspondence must have been steady and long-standing can be inferred from a note published in the Roman journal Il Buonarroti (1870): 12 and from Steinschneider’s acknowledgments to Perreau in HÜ, p. XI. It is likely that Perreau sought Steinschneider’s help in order to publish in the HB information about De Rossi’s manuscripts, as is indicated in a letter by Steinschneider to Shadal on Febru- ary 10, 1863 (CB, No. 260). 440 asher salah jealousy.107 Luzzatto himself, on the other hand, indulged in sharing with Longhena a slightly critical opinion of Steinschneider, since he was probably angry at the latter for having recognized in Savasorda the Jew Avraham Bar Hiyya before he himself had done so. In a letter, dated January 7, 1862, Luzzatto writes to Longhena deﬁning Steinschneider as “a poor devil, who spends his life in bibliographic and biographic researches, scarcely making a living, but truly well- deserving and to whom for more than twenty years I have been giving my services for free (as to many other learned transalpines).”108 Two lay personalities from the same Catholic milieu had epistolary dealings with Steinschneider. The ﬁrst was Ignazio Guidi (1844–1935), an important Arabist and Ethiopist; he checked Vatican manuscripts for Steinschneider, who referred to him as “a friend particularly expert in Oriental matters.”109 Their correspondence began in German on February 1, 1873, and continued in Italian with nine further letters until at least 1886. The second was Enrico Narducci, prince Boncompagni’s secretary and also a friend of Guidi’s, who in 1871 wrote in association with Steinschneider some of the articles that were collected in the volume Letteratura delle donne in 1880.110 Narducci was the chief editor of the Roman journal Il Buonarroti, where many of Steinschneider’s articles on the scholar-philosopher Judah Romano111 and on Italian Jewish literature were published. Probably Steinschneider and Nar- ducci had been acquainted with each other since 1864. Testifying to their close friendship are the 62 letters at the JTS, over more than a quarter of a century, mostly written in Italian but also in French, of which only a fragment of a letter from 1871 was published in the Bullettino by Boncompagni in 1881. Narducci, who in a letter dated October 18, 1873, accuses Boncompagni of unduly appropriating

107 Shadal’s letter to Steinschneider of August 2, 1863, at JTS. 108 Luzzatto, Epistolario, p. 998: “un povero diavolo, che consuma la vita nelle ricerche bibliografiche o biografiche che gli porgono uno scarso pane e delle quali è veramente benemerito e nelle quali da venti e più anni io gli presto (come a tanti altri dotti oltramontani) gratuiti servigi.” 109 “amico assai versato nelle cose orientali.” Steinschneider recalled Guidi’s cooperation in Il Buonarroti (1870): 6 and in HÜ, p. XI. 110 Letteratura delle donne (Rome: Tipografia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche, 1880). 111 Judah Romano (1292–after 1330), also known in Hebrew as Yehudah ben Mosheh. Cf. M. Steinschneider, Giuda Romano (Rome: Tipografia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche, 1870). steinschneider and italy 441 for himself other people’s works, was a fervent Italian patriot. For this reason he was expelled from the Vatican library, as he relates proudly to Steinschneider. Narducci was the liaison between Steinschneider and some official representatives of the Roman Jewish Community, such as Samuele Alatri (1805–1889), Samuele Beer and its secretary Scazzocchio, whose letters are no longer extant, however. The exchange of letters ended already four years before Narducci’s death, because his long final illness made it impossible for him to maintain the contact with his foreign correspondent. No doubt Steinschneider remained faithful to Narducci’s memory, just as he was to Shadal’s, long after his death. A copy of a letter written on one of the very first typewriters that were beginning to be introduced in Italy and dated September 16, 1893, was found in the unsorted boxes at the JTS; in it some friends, who preferred to remain anonymous, address Steinsch- neider to ask for an offering in order to mark Narducci’s grave with a worthy tombstone.112

Conclusions

The correspondence to and from Steinschneider offers an extraordinary sample of 19th-century letter writing habits, over a span of time covering more than sixty years. His epistolary production coincides with important new developments in European communications, among which are the introduction of the pre-stamped postcard, presented at the Karlsruhe Postal Congress in 1865. Through studying his letters we can follow how quickly the postcards ended up supplanting the letters even in such a learned correspondence. In the last thirty years of Steinschneider’s life, in fact, most of the letters addressed to him are postcards and even the letters from scholars became shorter, less formal and more personal, whereas in the early 1840s each letter had actually been a real essay. Through Steinschneider’s letters it is possible to follow, throughout Europe and all through the century, the different phases of the evolution and the decline of a literary genre: the erudite letter.

112 JTS, Steinschneider correspondence, Reel 80 misc. materials. 442 asher salah

Letters to and from Steinschneider can be disappointing to biographers, since they are extremely impersonal and try to imitate the style of scientiﬁc scholarly writing. By contemporary standards it can be astonishing, for instance, to note that after a friendship spanning more than twenty years, Soave could ask Steinschneider how many children he had, or that Luzzatto could dismiss in a few words the news of his own daughter’s death, almost embarrassed to have diverted attention from the main bibliographical subject. Steinschneider’s habit of noting the reception date of letters gives us, when we also know the mailing date, an idea of the efﬁciency of the postal services between Berlin and Italian cities. Despite the slow means of transportation available, the various border crossings and the meticulous censorship, the average time of a week needed by most of the letters to reach Steinschneider in Berlin is remarkable proof of the well-nigh perfect functioning of the European mail system. As for Steinschneider’s intellectual biography, the correspondence shows that it is quite impossible to separate his interests in the literary history of Italian Jewry from the whole of his monumental work. Because of the exceptional quantity of Hebrew manuscripts produced in Italy from the Middle Ages up to modern times as well as the crucial role played by Italy in the history of Jewish printing, almost every single article by Steinschneider deals directly or indirectly with the cultural history of Italian Jewry. Steinschneider’s extraordinary bibliographic skills were based mainly on his direct knowledge of the greatest Jewish-manuscript collections still extant in 19th-century Italy. Steinschneider had in fact consulted and sometimes even written the annotated catalogues of the collections of Leon Saraval from Trieste,113 Mordechai Samuel Ghirondi (1799–1852) from Padua114 (with 146 manuscripts) and Isaac Samuel Reggio (1784–1853) from Gorizia.115 Until the end of his life, he fol-

113 See Note 15 above. 114 M. Steinschneider, Catalog hebräischer Handschriften grössten Theils aus dem Nachlass des Rabb. M.S. Ghirondi (gest. 1852) welche von Herrn Sam. Schönblum in Lemberg zum Kaufe angeboten werden. Zum Theil nach Angaben des Besitzers verzeichnet von Mor. Steinschneider (Ber- lin: Wolffheim, 1872). 115 M. Steinschneider, non-dated manuscript at JTS in New York. The collection was bought by Steinschneider for the Bodleian Library in Oxford. steinschneider and italy 443 lowed the fortunes of the Almanzi-Lewenstein collection,116 acquired by Temple Emanu-El of New York, while gathering information about the collections in the Casantese, the Marciana, the Laurenzi- ana and the Palatina libraries through personal acquaintances such as Gustavo Sacerdote, Fausto Lasinio and Pietro Perreau. He could consult the catalogue of the Jewish community of Mantua in the version edited by Marco Mortara in 1878 in the Hebräische Bibliographie.117 In a note in Letteratura dei Giudei, where he laments the dispersion of great collections of Jewish Italian manuscripts outside Italy, he shows his familiarity with the Azulay collection of Ancona, although we cannot infer from this that he had direct ties with this community or with the one of Leghorn, where another important Jewish library existed.118 At this point we can try to assess wherein lay the originality of Steinschneider’s contribution to Italian Jewish studies, apart from the incredible amount of information he succeeded in gathering, about manuscripts, books, writers, literary genres and other aspects of Jewish culture in the Italian peninsula, from Roman times to the beginning of the 19th century. We can mention at least four fields that Stein- schneider helped to bring to the attention of scholars. He was certainly one of the first to understand the extraordinary significance of 18th-century Italian Jewish literature. In many ways his appeal to deal seriously with this transition period, from the Ghetto Era to the Emancipation of the Jews, remained unanswered until recently, when scholars such as Reuven Bonfil, David Malkiel and others began researching the history of Italian Jewry during the Counter-Reformation and the Enlightenment. While his discussion of Judeo-German literature, with respect to printed books, is a dry bibliographical list, his “Italian Literature of the Jews” up to the end of the 18th century is a valuable contribution to the history and culture

116 From a short letter, at JTS, by David Castelfranco, Almanzi’s brother-in-law, from Trieste, March 25, 1860, we learn that immediately after the death of his Padua acquaintance Steinschneider expressed his concerns about the fate of his and Sar- aval’s important collection of Hebrew manuscripts, and continued to write to him in order to keep up with the developments in his cataloguing (Castelfrancos’s letters of November and December 1864, at JTS). Steinschneider wrote a short paper on this catalogue published as “Monumenta Josephi,” Das Archiv, Bibliographische Wochenschrift 2 (1889): 425. 117 Cf. note 70 above. 118 Steinschneider, Letteratura dei Giudei, p. 4. 444 asher salah of the Italian Jews, containing much information culled from Jewish and non-Jewish sources alike. Secondly, not only did he strive to overcome the predominant indif- ference toward 18th-century research, but he also worked to throw light on the historical and literary heritage of the Roman Jewish community, which had been so neglected because of the prejudice of considering it to have been culturally poor under the oppression of the Popes. In the preface of his monographic study on Judah Romano in 1870 he addresses this point.119 Not to be forgotten is the effect of his suggestions about the need to write a history of the Jews of Rome on his pupils Paul Rieger (1870–1939) and Hermann Vogelstein (1870– 1942).120 In recognition of his contribution to the rehabilitation of its cultural patrimony the Roman Jewish community sent him a formal vote of thanks.121 Thirdly, Steinschneider was among the few who understood the importance of the study of the literature of the Jews, meaning the written output not only in Hebrew but also in other languages.122 Although he certainly underestimated the exceptionality of the history of the Jews in Italy as compared to the Jews in the rest of Europe, the Italian case gave him the opportunity to demonstrate, with many examples, a point particularly important to him: that you should consider Jew- ish culture in the context of general culture. Italian Jewish literature appealed to Steinschneider because its writers were educated and cul- tured and their language showed no ghetto inﬂuence. “The Italian Jews have shown,” he states, “that Church and Inquisition can build ghettos and destroy and mutilate books, but they cannot shut off the spirit by imprisoning it within walls.”123 He used to say that no ghettos

119 See M. Steinschneider, Giuda Romano: “niuno ha finora tentato di scrivere la storia di Roma . . . che può dirsi la madre dei giudei d’Europa . . . Dall’epoca del secondo Tempio in poi, l’erudizione giudaica non si è mai interamente ritirata da codesta metropoli” (“until now no one has tried to write the history of Rome, . . . which can be considered to be the mother of the Jews of Europe . . . From the Sec- ond Temple era onward Jewish scholarship never completely disappeared from this metropolis”). 120 H. Vogelstein & P. Rieger, Geschichte der Juden in Rom, 2 vols. (Berlin: Mayer & Müller, 1895–96). 121 See the letter by Yaaqov Di Capua dated July 15, 1876, at JTS. 122 This aspect has been already mentioned by Salo Baron, “Steinschneider’s Con- tribution. . . ,” pp. 83–148. 123 M. Steinschneider, Letteratura Italiana dei Giudei. p. 2. steinschneider and italy 445 exist for the spirit. This goal inspires both the monograph he wrote on the aforementioned Letteratura delle donne, published in 1880, and the one on Letteratura giudaica in Italia, published in 1884. In these two works he repeatedly draws attention to the use of the “Italian language as spoken by the Jews,” sometimes even to the detriment of their writings in Hebrew.124 When Steinschneider writes that he always used to compare the development of the literature of the Jews with that of their respective homelands,125 he is actually a pioneer of interdisciplinary and comparative studies as well as a pathfinder in integrating Jewish studies into general studies. This is the message of his introduction to Letteratura giudaica in Italia: “It would thus be useful to consider the points of contact and of exchange among the Jews who lived in Italy and their Christian fellow citizens, in particular among the scholars.”126 Last but not least, we ought to stress Steinschneider’s role in the development of a field of studies which has flourished since the second half of the 20th century: the sociology of literature. When he writes: “Nowadays everything is learned through statistics. If we do not compare the number of 18th-century Jewish literary works in Italian with those written in German, what could we deduce from it?”127 he is actually calling for a quantitative study of literary phenomena. It is impossible to carry out qualitative research and study literary history without the help of a bio-bibliographical inquiry in the literary field. As he put it: “Indeed, I consider the knowledge of books to be the

124 Steinschneider, ibid., p. 2: “lingua italiana in bocca giudaica.” The same idea was also expressed in the article “La letteratura antigiudaica,” Vessillo Israelitico 29 (1881): 165: “My goal was the knowledge and use of the vernacular language by Italian Jews.” (“Mio scopo era la conoscenza e l’uso della lingua vernacola presso gli Ebrei dell’Italia.”) 125 Steinschneider, Lett. Ital. dei Giudei, p. 2: “avvezzo a riguardare lo sviluppo delle lettere giudaiche in confronto alla letteratura della loro patria (o semi-patria, come si potrebbe dire dei tempi passati).” 126 Steinschneider, ibid., p. 2 (“sarebbe adunque utile il considerare più da presso i punti di contatto e di commercio fra i giudei che abitavano l’Italia ed i loro concitta- dini cristiani, e specialmente fra gli uomini letterati.”). 127 M. Steinschneider, in Vessillo Israelitico 27 (1879): 73 (“nei giorni nostri tutto s’impara dalla statistica. Se si compara il numero delle opere di letteratura giudaica del sec. XVIII in lingua italiana con quelle scritte in lingua tedesca che cosa se ne potrebbe dedurre?”). 446 asher salah beginning of literary history.”128 Today, in view of the renewed interest in quantitative research, we can afﬁrm that it is a particularly favorable moment for Steinschneider’s legacy to be acknowledged again and passed on.

128 M. Steinschneider, in Vessillo Israelitico 26 (1878): 354 (“considero davvero la conoscenza dei libri come inizio della storia letteraria”). APPENDIX ONE

List of 46 ascertained Steinschneider’s Italian correspondents (31 Jews and 15 non-Jews) from published and manuscript sources (mainly at the JTS).

Almanzi, Giuseppe (1801–1860) three letters in Hebrew (April 3, 1852; May 22, 1852; August 20, 1852), two in Italian (August 31, 1852; April 31, 1854), 2 addressed to S.D. Luzzatto (October 22, 1854, February 2, 1856) from Padua ( JTS). Ara, David one letter in Hebrew from Trieste ( JTS). Bertelli, Timoteo (1826–1905) three letters in Italian ( July 21, 1867, from Parma; October 8, 1867, from Castelvetro Modenese; December 9, 1867, from Naples) ( JTS). Boncompagni, Baldassarre (1821–1894) Intorno ad alcuni matematici del medioevo ed alle opere da essi composte. Lettere di M.S. a B.B. (Rome: Tipografia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche, 1863); Steinschneider M., “Intorno ad alcuni passi d’opere del medio evo relativi alla calamita,” Bullettino di Bibliografia e di Storia delle Scienze Matematiche e Fisiche IV (1871); Steinschneider M., “ ‘Rectification de quelques erreurs relatives au mathématicien arabe Ibn Al-Banna.’ Extrait d’une lettre adressée à Baldassarre Boncompagni par Stein- schneider, 16 Juin, 1876,” Bullettino di Bibliografia e di Storia delle Sci- enze Matematiche e Fisiche X (1877). Di Capua, Mordechai Yaaqov one letter in Italian ( July 15, 1876) from Rome ( JTS). Castelfranco, David three letters in Italian (March 25, 1860; November 14, 1864; December 5, 1864) from Trieste ( JTS). Castelli, David (1836–1901) three letters in Italian (August 3, 1879; August 25, 1879; October 8, 1882) from Florence ( JTS). Civita, Emanuel one letter in Italian (August 11, 1882) from Man- tua ( JTS). Coen Porto, Moisé (1834–1918) four letters in Italian (March 10, 1879; March 17, 1879; July 18, 1879; April 6, 1885) from Venice ( JTS) and “A Steinschneider sulle Hebree Lettioni di Nida etc. per Rabbi Biniamin d’Arodano, tradotto per Rabbi Giacob Alpron, Venezia 1710,” Corriere Israelitico 29 (1881): 64–65. 448 asher salah

Comparetti, Domenico (1835–1927) three letters in Italian ( June 24, 1871; July 22, 1871; August 26, 1871) from Florence ( JTS). Costantini, Alessandro one letter in Italian (April 5, 1894) from Ancona ( JTS). Daelli, Luigi (Gino) (1816–1882) seven letters in Italian (April 20, 1863–February 26, 1864) from Milan ( JTS). Gabrieli, Giuseppe (1872–1942) two letters in Italian ( July 6, 1905; July 17, 1905) from Rome ( JTS). Gancia, G. four letters in Italian, French and German (1878) from Rome ( JTS). Ghiron, Davide one letter in Italian (September 12, 1902) from Casale Monferrato ( JTS). Giordani, Enrico two letters in Italian ( January 12, 1862, from Vienna; May 21, 1862, from Munich) ( JTS). Guidi, Ignazio (1844–1935) one letter in German (February 1, 1873) and nine in Italian (February 13, 1873; March 14, 1873; July 7, 1877; February 21, 1878; March 23, 1878; March 23, 1883; June 28, 1883; April 9, 1884; January 26, 1886) from Rome ( JTS). Jaré, Giuseppe (1840–1915) “Lettere al Dr. M. Steinschneider sulla letteratura giudaica italiana,” Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880): 278– 282, 307–310. Lasinio, Fausto (1831–1914) 38 letters in Italian (March 8, 1870–August 13, 1881) from Pisa and Florence ( JTS). Lattes, Moisé (1846–1883) ﬁve letters in Italian (December 11, 1879, from Padua; June 18, 1880, from Mira; December 21, 1880, from Padua; September 21, 1881, from Mira; November 28, 1881, from Milan) ( JTS); and “Lettere al Dr. M. Steinschneider sulla letteratura giudaica italiana,” Vessillo Israelitico 28 (1880): 278–282, 307– 310; “Letteratura antigiudaica in lingua italiana,” Vessillo Israelitico 30 (1882): 12–13. Levi, Benedetto (1846–1880) three letters in Italian (Septem- ber 17, 1875; October 23, 1877; October 26, 1879) from Ferrara ( JTS). Levi, Giuseppe Emanuele one letter in Italian ( July 6, 1880) from Corfu ( JTS). Longhena, Francesco (1796–1864) 25 letters in Italian (Decem- ber 15, 1861–May 16, 1864) from Milan and Brescia ( JTS). La Lumia, Francesco one letter in Italian (October 18, 1881) from Palermo ( JTS). steinschneider and italy 449

Luzzatto, Elena one letter in Italian ( January 25, 1866) from Padua ( JTS). Luzzatto, Filosseno (1829–1854) one letter in Italian ( January 4, 1854) from Padua ( JTS). Luzzatto, Giuseppe (1851–?) two letters in Italian (December 27, 1867; January 13, 1868) from Padua ( JTS). Luzzatto, Isaia (1836–1898) one letter in French (December 25, 1868) and eight in Italian ( January 8, 1870; June 6, 1870; October 30, 1870; October 4, 1875; March 2, 1876; February 18, 1879; September 10, 1879; November 2, 1881) from Padua ( JTS). Luzzatto, Leone (1841–?) ﬁve letters in Italian ( July 30, 1869; December 3, 1874; May 16, 1876; October 30, 1876; April 16, 1882) from Venice ( JTS). Luzzatto, Samuel David (1800–1865) cf. Appendix 2. Margulies, Samuel Hirsch (1858–1922)129 one letter in German (September 23, 1882). Modona, Leonello (1841–1902) one letter in Italian (March 4, 1885) from Bologna ( JTS). Morais, Sabato (1823–1897) one letter in English (August 22, 1879) from Philadelphia ( JTS). Mortara, Marco (1815–1894) 15 letters in Italian ( June 6, 1858; May 13, 1858; February 6, 1859; September 18, 1859; May 7, 1862; June 12, 1862; May 11, 1865; June 30, 1865; August 24, 1865; August 13, 1868; January 27, 1873; June 17, 1873; August 14, 1873; March 5, 1880; December 13, 1885) from Mantua ( JTS). Narducci, Enrico (1832–1893) 62 letters in Italian and 2 in French (September 17, 1864–July 9, 1889) from Rome ( JTS). Olschki, Leo Samuel (1861–1940) one letter in German (March 25, 1885) from Verona ( JTS). Osimo, Marco (died 1881) one letter in Italian (May 23, 1876) ( JTS). Perreau, Pietro (1827–1911) no extant letters although one of March 29, 1869, is mentioned in the journal Il Buonarroti (1870): 12.

129 Although at the time of this letter Margulies was still a young student at the Breslau Jewish Theological Seminary, in 1899, after having been chief rabbi in Flor- ence since 1890, he was appointed head of the Collegio Rabbinico there, when it became the successor-institution of its namesake in Padua founded half a century earlier, and was thus to have a decisive inﬂuence on several generations of Italian spiritual leaders. 450 asher salah

Sacchi, Federico (1804–1891) one letter in German from London ( JTS). Sacerdote, Gustavo (1867–1948) one letter in Italian (February 17, 1890) from Rome, six notes in Italian (1894–1895) from Berlin and one note in Italian(April 3, 1906) from Berlin ( JTS). Salom, Abram (1793–1866) one letter in Italian (August 24, 1854) from Padua ( JTS). Sante Mattei, Carmine one letter in Italian ( June 29, 1866) from Florence ( JTS). Saraval, Moisé ten letters in Italian (March 19, 1852; May 4, 1852; October 11, 1852; October 29, 1852; April 20, 1853; June 21, 1853; October 14, 1853; March 12, 1854; May 18, 1854; Feb- ruary 27, 1857) from Trieste ( JTS). Servi, Flaminio (1841–1904) in Letteratura italiana dei Giudei (Rome: Tipograﬁa delle scienze matematiche e ﬁsiche, 1884), p. 40, Stein- schneider mentions a correspondence with Servi about some remarks on Tuscan dialect. Soave, Moisé (1820–1882) one letter in Hebrew (April 1, 1863) and 64 letters in Italian (September 21, 1852–April 25, 1878) from Venice ( JTS). Della Torre, Lelio (1805–1871) two letters in German (November 20, 1862; November 29, 1869) from Padua. Del Vecchio, Alberto one letter in Italian (August 16, 1875) from Lugo ( JTS). APPENDIX TWO

Concordance of letters by Shemuel David Luzzatto to Moritz Stein- schneider Since Luzzatto’s collection of letters to Steinschneider is by far the most important testimony to his Italian relationships and one of the largest among those preserved at the Jewish Theological Library in New York, we have considered it necessary to make a list of all the extant letters in chronological order, collating the original manuscript letters with those which were published in the second half of the 19th century through the work and devotion of Shadal’s eldest son, Isaia Luzzatto. Eighteen letters in Hebrew from Shadal to Steinschneider are inserted in the nine volumes published by Eisig Gräber in Przemysl and Krakau (Cracow) between 1882 and 1894. At the JTS we find the original and complete versions of fourteen of these letters. Moreover, the JTS library possesses two unpublished Hebrew letters by Shadal; one of them, dated March 15, 1852, was mentioned in the Index edited by Isaia, the other, dated April 1, 1863, was previously unknown.130 Twenty-five letters in Italian were instead collected by Isaia Luzzatto in Shadal’s Epistolario italiano, francese, latino (Padua: Salmin, 1890), of which only one, dated June 17, 1853, is not extant in the JTS collection. The JTS possesses 75 unpublished letters, two of which are mentioned in Isaia’s Index, the first, dated May 27, 1857, and the second, April 1, 1862. Isaia’s Index indicates the existence of two letters of which we could find no trace, neither in the JTS collection nor in the published anthologies, one dated February 21, 1853, the other, April 1857. In conclusion, we presently know of 123 letters addressed by Shadal to Steinschneider, 20 in Hebrew and 103 in Italian, of which 43 have

130 Isaia Luzzatto set up an Index raisonné des livres de correspondance de feu Samuel David Luzzatto (Padua: Sacchetto, 1878), a chronological catalogue of Shadal’s letters. This index was based on the copies Shadal kept of his own letters. Only in two cases, the letters Nos. 1048 and 1118, did Isaia ask Steinschneider to lend him the original manuscripts sent to Berlin, as can be read in the letter of September 10, 1879. At JTS one can ﬁnd therefore the originals of almost all of Shadal’s published letters, together with 75 other letters that were unknown to Isaia and therefore never recorded. 452 asher salah been published and two have disappeared. We hope that all the correspondence to Steinschneider, a basic source and memory bank for all those who are interested in the history of the 19th-century Wissenschaft des Judentums, now at the JTS, will soon be sorted according to similar criteria to facilitate their access.

12 April 1844 (rec’d 20 April 1844) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Igrot Shadal, p. 845) (Index raisonné des livres de correspondance de feu S.D. Luzzatto [Padua: Sacchetto, 1878], No. 453) 14 July 1845 (rec’d 22 July 1845) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 952) (Index, No. 529) 15 December 1846 (rec’d 23 December 1846) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1007) (Index, No. 591) 18 June 1847 (in Hebrew) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1030) (Index, No. 606) 21 March 1850 (rec’d 28 April 1850) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1079) (Index, No. 704) 13 July 1851 (in Hebrew) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1106) (Index, No. 760) 11 September 1851 (in Hebrew) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1113) (Index, No. 768) 27 February 1852 (rec’d 3 March 1852) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1128) (Index, No. 793) 15 March 1852 (rec’d 20 March 1852) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (Index, No. 808) 29 March 1852 (rec’d 3 May 1852) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1132) (Index, No. 810) 17 May 1852 (in Hebrew) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1141) (Index, No. 824) 9 July 1852 (rec’d 14 July 1852) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1145) (Index, No. 830) 20 July 1852 (rec’d 25 July 1852) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1146) (Index, No. 833) 26 October 1852 (rec’d 31 October 1852) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1164) (Index, No. 847) 23 November 1852 (rec’d 29 November 1852) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1168) (Index, No. 855) 6 December 1852 (rec’d 15 December 1852) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1172) (Index, No. 859) steinschneider and italy 453

19 January 1853 (rec’d 25 January 1853) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1175) (Index, No. 866) 2 February 1853 (rec’d 12 February 1853) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1182) (Index, No. 871) 21 February 1853 (in Hebrew and Italian) (Index, No. 875) 25 February 1853 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 9 March 1853 (rec’d 21 March 1853) (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) (published in Igrot Shadal, p. 1188) (Index, No. 880) 19 April 1853 (rec’d 23 April 1853) (in Italian and some Hebrew) (partially published in Epistolario Italiano Francese Latino di S.D. Luz- zatto [Padua: Salmin, 1890], p. 745) (Index, No. 889) 21 April 1853 (rec’d 25 April 1853) (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epistolario, p. 750) (Index, No. 892) 17 June 1853 (in Italian) (published in Epistolario, p. 759) (Index, No. 904) 31 July 1853 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epis- tolario, p. 760) (Index, No. 911) 28 October 1853 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 1 December 1853 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epistolario, p. 764) (Index, No. 922) 30 December 1853 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 1 March 1854 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epistolario, p. 772) (Index, No. 933) 9 May 1854 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epis- tolario, p. 779) (Index, No. 948) 9 June 1854 (rec’d 14 June 1854) (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epistolario, p. 783) (Index, No. 950) 25 August 1854 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epistolario, p. 790) (Index, No. 960) 15 September 1854 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 794) (Index, No. 967) 22 October 1854 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 798) (Index, No. 972) 22 December 1854 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 2 January 1855 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 19 January 1855 (rec’d 24 January 1855) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 798) (Index, No. 984) 28 February 1855 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 810) (Index, No. 986) 23 March 1855 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 454 asher salah

30 April 1855 (rec’d 4 May 1855) (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epistolario, p. 812) (Index, No. 992, no mention of the date) 2 May 1855 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 27 October 1855 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 10 January 1856 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 837) (Index, No. 1014, no mention of the date) 9 March 1856 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 847) (Index, No. 1027) 15 April 1856 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 2 July 1856 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 12 October 1856 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 13 November 1856 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 21 November 1856 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 26 November 1856 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 8 December 1856 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 876) (Index, No. 1048) 5 January 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 27 February 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 23 April 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 910) (Index, No.1066) April 1857 (in Italian and Hebrew) (Index, No.1069) 5 May 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 27 May 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Index, No. 1080) 31 May 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 14 June 1857(in Italian) ( JTS collection) 1 July 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 31 August 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 24 September 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epistolario, p. 925) (Index, No. 1092) 2 October 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 11 October 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 30 November 1857 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 8 March 1858 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 21 March 1858 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 28 April 1858 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 16 May 1858 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 20 October 1858 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 26 November 1858 (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) 17 December 1858 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) steinschneider and italy 455

11 January 1859 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 18 March 1859 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 10 April 1859 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 22 August 1859 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (partially published in Epistolario, p. 940) (Index, No. 1108) 29 October 1859 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 945) (Index, No. 1112) 8 February 1860 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 955) (Index, No. 1118) 8 July 1860 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 13 September 1860 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 26 November 1860 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 1 February 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 10 March 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 25 March 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 31 March 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 31 May 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 13 June 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 17 July 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 4 September 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 2 October 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 11 November 1861 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 994) (Index, No. 1139) 31 January 1862 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 11 March 1862 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 20 March 1862 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 1 April 1862 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Index, No. 1149) 23 May 1862 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 18 August 1862 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 8 October 1862 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 3 November 1862 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) (Epistolario, p. 1007) (Index, No. 1164) 9 January 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 29 January 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 10 February 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 14 February 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 25 February 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 28 March 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 1 April 1863 (in Hebrew) ( JTS collection) 11 April 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 456 asher salah

13 April 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 1 May 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 12 June 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 5 July 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 12 July 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 2 August 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 27 September 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 25 October 1863 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 15 January 1864 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 8 March 1864 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 3 July 1864 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 3 February 1865 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 1 March 1865 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 10 April 1865 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 30 July 1865 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 29 August 1865 (in Italian) ( JTS collection) 21. MATHEMATIK BEI DEN JUDEN, CENT ANS APRÈS

Tony Lévy

Le premier article de M. Steinschneider consacré aux mathématiques parut en 1846 dans Magazin für die Literatur des Auslandes. Intitulé « Zur Geschichte der Astronomie », il s’agit du compte rendu de l’édition du traité médiéval d’astronomie Yesod {Olam (Fondement du monde), com- posé à Tolède par Isaac Israeli au début du XIVe siècle. La dernière publication de Steinschneider concernant les mathématiques, apparemment son tout dernier écrit savant, n’est autre que la notice sur laquelle s’achève son Mathematik bei den Juden (1551–1840), du moins dans l’état où il nous l’a laissé. Elle fut remise à Markus Brann, l’édi- teur de Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums, par la ﬁdèle collaboratrice du maître, Adeline Goldberg, le 20 janvier 1907.1 Cette dernière, selon le récit qu’en donne Markus Brann, mentionnait pudiquement une indisposition de Steinschneider : « der Herr Pro- fessor augenblicklich etwas unpässlich [war] ». Steinschneider devait s’éteindre le 23 janvier, quelques semaines avant son quatre-vingt onzième anniversaire. Les deux séries de notices portant le titre Mathematik bei den Juden ont été composées par Steinschneider entre 1893 et 1907. Ces notices sont réunies selon l’ordre chronologique des écrits mathématiques recensés. La première série fut publiée en plusieurs livraisons dans deux revues d’histoire des mathématiques, Bibliotheca Mathematica et Abhandlungen zur Geschichte der Mathematik. Les tirés-à-part, rassemblés et précédés d’un index rédigé par les soins d’Adeline Goldberg, furent publiés en 1901 en un petit nombre d’exemplaires. l’ouvrage fut réim- primé en 1964, puis en 2001. Je m’y réfère sous le sigle « Mathematik bei den Juden I ». Il couvre la période allant de l’époque talmudique jusqu’en 1550. La deuxième série fut, elle aussi, étalée, et publiée dans les trois volumes 49–51 (1905–1907) de Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums. Je m’y réfère sous le sigle « Mathematik bei den

1 MbJ II, vol. 51 (1907), 224 ; voir ci-dessous pour cette abréviation. 458 tony lévy

Juden II ».2 Comme à son habitude, Steinschneider insère corrections, mises à jour et nouvelles références relatives aux notices antérieures. C’est ainsi qu’on trouvera, à partir de Mathematik bei den Juden II, 51, p. 482, des compléments à des notices précédant cette dernière, en particulier celles qui sont réunies dans Mathematik bei den Juden I. Avec son scrupule caractéristique, Steinschneider indique par un sigle spé- cial (m) les informations bibliographiques qui lui furent communiquées par son ancien élève, Alexander Marx, parti au Jewish Theological Seminary à New York. Si la rédaction de ces notices intervient vers la fin de la longue et féconde carrière de Steinschneider, il n’en reste pas moins que l’intérêt du bibliographe s’est tourné de bonne heure vers les écrits mathéma- tiques rédigés par des juifs au fil des siècles. Steinschneider a rapporté lui-même comment, ayant entrepris en 1845 de dresser un tableau d’ensemble de la « littérature juive » pour la Realencyklopädie de Ersch et Gruber, il constata la très grande pauvreté des données disponibles (et fiables !) concernant les écrits scientifiques composés par des juifs, et particulièrement les écrits mathématiques.3 La version anglaise, révi- sée, de cet essai, publiée en 1857 sous le titre Jewish Literature from the Eighth to the Eighteenth Century with an Introduction on Talmud and Midrash. A Historical Essay, n’offre en effet qu’un petit nombre de données sur les mathématiques. L’intérêt de Steinschneider pour l’histoire des sciences est donc issu, au moins dans une première étape, de ses préoccupa- tions bibliographiques.4 Steinschneider, n’étant pas scientifique de formation, a maintes fois rappelé qu’il manquait des compétences spécialisées dans le domaine des mathématiques ou de la médecine. Heureusement pour nous, il avait quelque raison de s’investir quand même dans ce domaine ; en effet, comme il l’écrivait lui-même : « le nombre de ceux qui réunissent

2 Dans les notes, j’utilise les abréviations suivantes : MbJ I = Moritz Steinschneider, Mathematik bei den Juden, plusieurs articles regroupés et réimprimés en un volume sous ce même titre à Hildesheim : Olms, 1964 et 2001. MbJ II = Moritz Steinschneider, « Mathematik bei den Juden (1551–1840) », Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums vol. 49, NF 13 (1905) : 78–95, 193–204, 300–314, 490–498, 581–605, 722–743, vol. 50 (1906) : 100–116, 196–214, 334–350, 469–491, 609–623, 729–753, vol. 51 (1907) : 224–243. Ces articles seront réunis en un volume à paraître également chez Olms (Hildesheim). 3 MbJ I, 19. 4 S. W. Baron, « Moritz Steinschneider’s Contributions to Jewish Historiography », in Alexander Marx Jubilee Volume, ed. S. Libermann (New York, Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1950), English Section, p. 83–148, à la p. 125, n. 57. MATHEMATIK BEI DEN JUDEN, cent ans après 459 les compétences scientifiques et linguistiques est très limité de nos jours. Il appartient donc aux philologues et aux bibliographes de rendre ce matériau accessible aux spécialistes ».5 Le programme de Steinschneider, dans ces Mathematik bei den Juden, est très clair : il s’agissait de fournir au « spécialiste (der Fachmann) » toutes les données disponibles relatives aux écrits mathématiques com- posés par des juifs entre VIIIe et XIXe siècles. Les écrits mathémati- ques en question, massivement constitués par des textes manuscrits, sont présentés dans l’ordre chronologique ; ils sont l’œuvre d’auteurs juifs écrivant dans n’importe quelle langue et dans n’importe quelle région du monde, même si l’hébreu y domine très largement. Jusqu’au XVIIe siècle au moins, ils ressortissent à un domaine qui est celui des sciences mathématiques au sens médiéval. Précisons : à côté des disciplines mathématiques familières à un regard moderne (arithmétique, géométrie et les branches qui en sont dérivées), l’astronomie y est la science-reine, accompagnée de l’astrologie et de la science calendaire. Dans l’introduction au premier des deux recueils (1893), Steinschneider soulignait la difficulté d’organiser en une histoire ces données étalées sur plusieurs siècles ; il pointait la réticence du mathématicien de métier à saisir l’intérêt d’une telle tâche et relevait l’indifférence du profane. Par une heureuse métaphore, il proposait d’assimiler la première étape du travail d’analyse, celle qu’il inaugu- rait, à une démarche « géologique ».6 Un siècle plus tard, quel regard pouvons-nous porter sur cette entreprise pionnière ? Mon article comporte deux parties. Dans la première partie, j’expose une des « découvertes » les plus significatives réalisées par Steinschneider dans le domaine ; et je commente l’usage qui en fut fait ultérieurement. A cette occasion, je me pose la question de l’héritage méthodologique du maître de l’historiographie : à trop s’en éloigner, bien de ses successeurs ont souvent manqué leur cible. Il arrive aussi à Steinschneider de s’interroger sur le matériau ainsi rassemblé et de soulever de pertinentes questions, tant historiques que méthodologiques. Ce sera l’occasion de me demander, cent ans après, quelles réponses—s’il y en a—la recherche leur a apportées. Dans la deuxième partie, je m’écarte des auteurs et

5 Geschichtsliteratur, p. V, cité par Baron « Moritz Steinschneider’s Contributions to Jewish Historiography », p. 124. 6 MbJ I, 21. 460 tony lévy des textes singuliers pour tenter de cerner l’attitude, voire le point de vue théorique, de Steinschneider concernant les mathématiques et la place qu’elles tiennent à ses yeux dans « l’histoire culturelle des juifs ». Même s’il n’énonce jamais de théorie générale dans ce domaine—pas plus que dans les autres domaines d’ailleurs—, les remarques qu’il formule, soit dans l’introduction générale, soit dans des conclusions partielles, permettent de dégager des idées assez cohérentes.

I. « Je ne suis qu’un bibliographe »

Malgré l’apparente modestie du propos : « je ne suis qu’un bibliographe », Steinschneider a composé plusieurs monographies traitant de textes hébraïques ou d’auteurs spécifiques. Plusieurs d’entre elles constituent encore un outil précieux pour l’historien des mathémati- ques. D’ailleurs, il en est de même pour les études qu’il a consacrées aux mathématiques arabes, qui mériteraient un examen spécifique. Je m’attarderai sur un petit ouvrage, « découvert » par Steinschneider en 1864, le Mishnat ha-Middot (le Livre des mesures). L’histoire des recherches consacrées à cet ouvrage est instructive, à plus d’un titre. Il représente, à l’heure actuelle, le plus ancien écrit mathématique rédigé en hébreu. Ce traité, aux dimensions modestes, soulève encore de grands problèmes : quel en est l’auteur ? quand et où a-t-il été com- posé ? est-il lié ou non à la littérature mathématique arabe ? de quelle nature sont ses liens, avérés, avec la littérature rabbinique ? s’agit-il d’un écrit scientifique présenté dans un habillage rabbinique ? ou bien d’un texte relevant de la littérature rabbinique, accompagné de quelques formules mathématiques ? Les divers épisodes de la recherche savante, depuis la publication de la première édition de l’ouvrage par Steinschneider en 1864,7 illustrent de manière frappante les obstacles, voire les pièges, rencontrés par le chercheur face à un document de cette nature : faiblesse philologique ou historique, « mathématisation » abusive, interprétation biaisée par l’idéologie. On soulignera, à cette occasion, la rigueur exemplaire de la méthode de Steinschneider, « simple bibliographe ». Premier épisode. Il oppose deux personnages : Steinschneider et Hermann Schapira. Ce dernier, mathématicien de renom (il fut

7 MbJ I, 21. MATHEMATIK BEI DEN JUDEN, cent ans après 461 l’élève de Fuchs), était familier de l’hébreu et des textes rabbiniques (il avait mené à son terme sa formation de rabbin). Schapira est l’auteur d’une traduction annotée en allemand du Mishnat ha-Middot édité par Steinschneider.8 A ce stade, on ne disposait que d’un seul manuscrit, celui qu’avait exploité Steinschneider, copié à la fin du XVe siècle à Constantinople. Le texte transmis par ce manuscrit est divisé en cinq chapitres, traitant de géométrie élémentaire—définitions, termes, règles de mesure de figures planes et solides—, d’un point de vue pratique, c’est-à-dire sans démonstrations. A en croire le colophon du manuscrit, l’ouvrage transmis était complet. Dans les notes de sa traduction, Schapira relevait avec pertinence des parallélismes entre le Mishnat ha-Middot et le bref chapitre géomé- trique d’un célèbre ouvrage arabe, l’Algèbre d’al-Khwârizmî (composé vers 820 à Bagdad). Schapira en tirait la conclusion suivante : le texte hébreu et le texte arabe (du moins sa partie géométrique) devaient avoir une source commune, ancienne. S’agissant de la date de composition du Mishnat ha-Middot, Schapira suggérait qu’il remontait à l’épo- que de la Mishna (IIe–IIIe s.), car « le style et la terminologie » du texte témoignaient de sa nature typiquement « mishnaïque ». Steinschneider s’opposa fermement à ces conclusions. Lui, le non mathématicien, soutenait que le Mishnat ha-Middot était clairement un écrit mathématique « récent », intégrant quelques formules bibliques et rabbiniques et non pas un texte mathématique très ancien. Criti- quant Schapira, il rappelait que le style pseudo-mishnaïque du texte ne permettait raisonnablement pas de conclure qu’il s’agissait d’un écrit remontant à l’époque de la Mishna. Il suggérait de situer plutôt l’origine du Mishnat ha-Middot à l’époque où les sciences arabes fai- saient leur chemin dans le monde juif (entre IXe et XIIIe siècle). Deuxième épisode. Il débute avec la découverte d’un fragment inédit du Mishnat ha-Middot dans les fonds de la Geniza du Caire. A. Neubauer en rédigea la notice descriptive dans le catalogue des manuscrits d’Oxford en 1906. L’examen du fragment de la Geniza, en effet, faisait apparaître qu’il s’agissait d’une partie—quatre paragraphes—d’un sixième chapitre du Mishnat ha-Middot. Ce sixième chapitre, même

8 H. Schapira, « Mischnat Ha-mmiddoth (Lehre von den Maassen) » Abhandlungen zur Geschichte der Mathematik, Drittes Heft (1880). Schapira a inséré dans ses notes plusieurs remarques dues à Steinschneider. 462 tony lévy incomplet, éclairait d’un jour nouveau le problème de la nature de ce texte énigmatique. Il y était traité des dimensions du Tabernacle (Mishkan), tel qu’il est décrit dans le livre de l’Exode. Plus précisément, les quatre paragraphes retrouvés commentent la construction et les mesures de la tente ayant abrité l’arche sainte pendant la traversée du Sinaï par les Hébreux. Or la littérature rabbinique a transmis un ancien texte sur la construction du Tabernacle : barayta di-melekhet ha- mishkan (Enseignement sur la construction du Tabernacle). Cette décou- verte relançait, dès lors, la question du lien entre le Mishnat ha-Middot et la littérature rabbinique. Soulignons que Steinschneider, dans ses dernières notices mathématiques, mentionnait la découverte, qui lui avait été signalée par A. Marx.9 N’ayant pu lui-même en examiner le contenu, il reconnaissait néanmoins que le texte édité par ses soins quarante ans auparavant devait désormais être considéré comme incomplet. C’est alors qu’intervient le travail d’un autre chercheur, Salomon Gandz, dans les années trente. Familier de la littérature rabbinique et maîtrisant aussi l’arabe, Gandz s’enthousiasma pour l’étude du Mish- nat ha-Middot et la signification du nouveau fragment ; il investit beau- coup d’efforts et d’érudition, qui aboutirent à une nouvelle édition de l’ouvrage, intégrant désormais le nouveau fragment.10 Le travail de Gandz, impressionnant par l’ampleur de l’information et l’effort de synthèse de données fragmentaires et difficiles d’accès, est malheu- reusement critiquable en raison de ses conclusions hâtives et fragiles. Pour Gandz, le Mishnat ha-Middot est un très ancien texte rabbinique, rédigé par Rabbi Neemia (dont le nom est effectivement mentionné) vers 150 de l’ère commune. De plus, les points de similitude correctement relevés entre le Mishnat ha-Middot et la géométrie d’al-Khwârizmî conduisent Gandz à affirmer péremptoirement que le premier fut la source directe du mathématicien bagdadien. Pas moins ! Ces conclusions reposent plus sur l’enthousiasme de leur auteur que sur la soli- dité de l’argumentation. Pour autant, le problème du sixième chapitre, traitant des dimensions du Tabernacle et si proche, par son contenu, de certains écrits rabbiniques, demeurait sans réponse claire.

9 MbJ II, vol. 50 (1906) : 483. 10 S. Gandz, « The ‘Mishnat ha-Middot’. The First Hebrew Geometry of about 150 C.E. and the Geometry of Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khowarizmi », Quellen und Studien zur Geschichte der Mathematik 2 (1932) : 295–401 ; réimp. in idem., Studies in Hebrew Astronomy and Mathematics, ed. S. Sternberg (New York, Ktav, 1970), p. 295–368. MATHEMATIK BEI DEN JUDEN, cent ans après 463

L’épisode suivant intervient dans les années soixante. Le regretté Gad Ben-Ami Sarfatti, mathématicien, linguiste et familier de la litté- rature rabbinique, focalisa son attention sur la terminologie du Mishnat ha-Middot. De manière convaincante, il mit en évidence qu’une large part de la terminologie géométrique de l’ouvrage était d’origine arabe, faisant sienne ainsi la conclusion de Steinschneider : il conviendrait de placer la date de composition du Mishnat ha-Middot entre la période de réception des sciences arabes dans le monde juif et celle du mouvement de traductions de l’arabe en hébreu au XIIIe siècle. Selon Sarfatti, le sixième chapitre, même incomplet, était une adaptation tardive d’une source rabbinique ancienne, due à un savant juif familier des mathé- matiques arabes. Cet auteur anonyme aurait ajouté ce sixième chapitre aux cinq précédents, lesquels constituent clairement un écrit géométri- que. Sarfatti, à son tour, publia une nouvelle édition de l’ouvrage— la troisième—précédée d’une analyse détaillée de la terminologie.11 Et l’histoire continue. En 1965, on découvrait dans les Archives du musée juif de Prague plusieurs folios de parchemin utilisés comme reliure. Examinés par Alexandre Scheiber de Budapest, un spécialiste des documents de la Geniza du Caire, deux de ces folios se révélè- rent être des fragments du Mishnat ha-Middot. En plus d’une partie du Mishnat ha-Middot tel qu’il était jusque là connu, ces fragments offraient deux nouveaux paragraphes, inédits, du chapitre six. Sollicité par Scheiber pour donner son avis, Sarfatti ne fut pas long à conclure à l’intérêt considérable de ces fragments, surtout les deux nouveaux paragraphes du chapitre six.12 L’analyse de ce matériau venait en effet corroborer l’hypothèse précédemment formulée par Sarfatti quant à la nature du sixième chapitre : ainsi augmenté, ce sixième chapitre représente un développement autonome concernant la mesure des dimensions du Tabernacle, dont la source pourrait bien être cet écrit ancien sur la « construction du Tabernacle », barayta di-melekhet ha- mishkan, lequel nous est parvenu. Mais il y a plus : ce chapitre comporte un long développement sur la racine carrée du nombre 5000. Ce nombre représente la superﬁcie de la cour du Tabernacle, exprimée en coudées carrées (100 par 50). Devenue une mesure d’aire (5000 coudées [carrées]), appelée bet sota

11 G. B. Sarfatti, « La terminologie mathématique du Mishnat ha-Middot » (héb.), Leshonenu 23 (1959) : 157–171 et 24 (1960) : 73–94. 12 A. Scheiber, « The Prague Manuscript of Mishnat ha-Middot », Hebrew Union Col- lege Annual 45 (1974) : 191–204. 464 tony lévy im, cette aire a acquis le statut de référence ; en particulier, on s’est interrogé, dès l’époque de la Mishna, sur la longueur du côté d’un carré ayant pour superficie cette aire de référence, soit 70 coudées et une certaine fraction d’unité. La littérature talmudique rapporte les controverses qui avaient pour objet l’évaluation de ladite fraction d’unité, qui est, nous le savons, un nombre irrationnel. Maïmonide, dans son commentaire de la Mishna (achevé vers 1170), avait traité de cette question (Eruvin, V, 2), en soulignant que la racine carrée de 5000 était « irrationnelle » et que sa détermination ne pouvait être qu’approximative.13 L’auteur inconnu du Mishnat ha-Middot offre, dans le chapitre VI, un traitement mathématique du problème plus sophistiqué que celui de Maïmonide. La procédure, bien analysée par Sarfatti, manifeste de la part de l’auteur de solides connaissances mathématiques, d’origine grecque ou arabe. Ce sixième chapitre, à l’évidence, offre un complé- ment scientifique à des considérations exégétiques. En 1993, Sarfatti a publié une nouvelle édition de l’ouvrage—la quatrième—réunissant l’ensemble de toutes les données disponibles.14 Pour autant, nous ne savons pas si le texte dont nous disposons maintenant est bien complet, et bien des questions sont encore posées. Le chemin inauguré par Steinschneider doit encore être exploré. A cet égard, Y. Tzvi Langermann a formulé récemment une hypothèse qui pourrait se révéler féconde : le Mishnat ha-Middot ferait partie d’un petit ensemble d’écrits à caractère scientifique rédigés en hébreu, en Orient, au VIIIe ou IXe siècle, représentant le tout premier chapitre de la littérature scientifique hébraïque.15 Revenons à Steinschneider. Si j’ai choisi d’examiner en détail l’histoire du Mishnat ha-Middot, c’est que, en dehors de son intérêt propre, elle illustre plusieurs aspects de la méthode exigeante de Steinschneider comme bibliographe, exigence qui s’exprime parfois dans des formules cinglantes, comme celle-ci :

13 T. Lévy, « Maïmonide et les sciences mathématiques », in Maïmonide philosophe et savant (1138–1204), éd. T. Lévy et R. Rashed (Louvain, Peeters, 2004), p. 219–252, aux p. 226–228. 14 G. B. Sarfatti, « Mishnat ha-Middot » (héb.), in Hebrew and Arabic Studies in Honour of Joshua Blau, ed. H. Ben-Shammai (Tel Aviv, Tel Aviv University/ Jérusalem, Hebrew University, 1993), p. 463–490. 15 Y. T. Langermann, « On the Beginnings of Hebrew Scientiﬁc Literature and on Studying History Through Maqbilot (Parallels) », Aleph 2 (2002) : 169–189. MATHEMATIK BEI DEN JUDEN, cent ans après 465

Le martyre de la science et de l’histoire du judaïsme durera encore bien longtemps, car ses bourreaux se comptent parmi les juifs eux-mêmes et leurs amis mal avisés.16 Dans l’exemple qui précède, Steinschneider le non mathématicien était en mesure d’identifier le Mishnat ha-Middot comme un texte essentiellement mathématique et plutôt récent contre Schapira le mathématicien, lequel inclinait à y reconnaître un texte plutôt ancien, « mishnaïque ». De même, Steinschneider aurait sans doute critiqué avec véhémence les conclusions hasardeuses que Gandz, mû par des considérations apologétiques, fut amené à formuler, des décennies plus tard. On pourrait citer d’autres exemples de remarques ou d’indications de Steinschneider auxquelles, ultérieurement, des chercheurs n’ont pas prêté une attention suffisante ; la conséquence en étant une moindre qualité des travaux qu’ils ont publiés. J’indiquerai deux exemples significatifs.

• Steinschneider est l’auteur des premières études consacrées au livre de géométrie d’Abraham bar Æiyya, Æibbur ha-meshia we-ha-tishboret, Traité des surfaces et des volumes (première moitié du XIIe siècle) ; c’est aussi lui qui a identiﬁé le texte latin qui en est issu en 1145, le Liber Embadorum de Platon de Tivoli.17 En 1904, il appelait de ses vœux une édition du texte hébraïque, tout en en soulignant l’importance pour l’histoire des mathématiques médiévales. Peu après, Michael Guttmann a fourni cette édition (1912–1913), laquelle a servi de base à la traduction catalane de José-Maria Millas- Vallicrosa (1931). Toutefois, Guttmann n’a pas tenu compte de l’hypothèse, tôt formulée par Steinschneider, de l’existence de deux recensions du texte hébraïque, pas plus qu’il n’a exploité la version latine. Conséquence malheureuse de ces « négligences » : l’édition de Guttmann comporte des défauts fort dommageables.18

• Abû Kâmil (850–930) est l’auteur d’un important traité d’algèbre arabe. Nous en connaissons une version hébraïque associée au nom

16 « Das Märtyrerthum der Wissenschaft und Geschichte des Judenthums wird lange dauern, denn es zählt seine Peiniger unter den Juden selbst und deren übelbe- rathenen Freunden », in « [Compte-rendu de] M. J. Schleiden, Die Bedeutung der Juden für Erhaltung und Wiederbelebung der Wissenschaften im Mittelalter (Leipzig, Baumgaertner’s Buchhandlung, 1877) », Hebräische Bibliographie XVII (1877) : 34–35, à la p. 35. 17 MbJ I, 85. 18 T. Lévy, « Les débuts de la littérature mathématique hébraïque. La géométrie d’Abraham bar Æiyya (XI–XII siècle) », Micrologus IX (2001) : 35 64, aux p. 45–47. 466 tony lévy de Mordekhay Finzi de Mantoue, au XVe siècle. Le texte hébreu qui nous est parvenu abonde en expressions espagnoles, ce qui a légiti- mement conduit Steinschneider à s’interroger sur les sources exploi- tées par Finzi : prudemment, il se demandait si ce dernier n’avait pas adapté une version espagnole, possiblement issue d’une version latine. Steinschneider, qui ne disposait pas, à l’époque, du texte arabe, soulignait la grande difficulté des problèmes ainsi posés.19 Martin Levey a édité et traduit en anglais la première partie du texte hébreu de Finzi (1966), sans tenir compte des interrogations formulées en son temps par Steinschneider, et en affirmant bien légèrement que Finzi avait traduit directement un texte arabe. Il faut malheureuse- ment le reconnaître : les remarques de Levey concernant les sources de Finzi n’ont aucune valeur, ni historique, ni méthodologique.20 A la lecture de ces centaines de notices, le chercheur, débutant ou chevronné, apprend ou réapprend qu’une « conjecture » ne se trans- forme pas subrepticement en « preuve », qu’une leçon manuscrite « incompréhensible » demande bien des détours avant d’être présentée comme une faute de copiste, qu’une difficulté paléographique ou un problème textuel peuvent être l’indice, longtemps indéchiffrable, d’une complexité à dénouer ou d’une tradition encore illisible. Mais l’acribie du savant n’est pas qu’un outil d’archiviste. Steinschneider nous a aussi livré des interrogations proprement historiques, souvent brièvement formulées, dont la pertinence ne s’est pas démentie. Quelques-unes sont restées sans réponse ; d’autres ont fait l’objet de travaux ultérieurs. En voici des exemples significatifs.

• Rappelant l’importance de la présence juive à Alexandrie, à une époque d’intense développement de la science grecque (s’agissant des mathématiques, songeons aux Eléments d’Euclide et à l’Almageste de Ptolémée), Steinschneider s’exclame : On devrait poser ici la question : n’y a-t-il pas eu, parmi les juifs d’Alexandrie, de mathématiciens de quelque importance ? Je n’en connais aucun ; il est vrai que je n’ai pas entrepris de recherche spéciﬁque dans ce domaine.21

19 MbJ I, 194 ; Steinschneider, HÜ, p. 584–588. 20 T. Lévy, « L’algèbre arabe dans les textes hébraïques (II). Dans l’Italie des XVe et XVIe siècles, sources arabes et sources vernaculaires », Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 17 (2007) : 81–107, aux p. 88–91. 21 MbJ I, 60. MATHEMATIK BEI DEN JUDEN, cent ans après 467

Force est de reconnaître que nous ne sommes pas, aujourd’hui, plus avancés que Steinschneider. Pourquoi ? J’avoue mon embarras et je me demande en quels termes il conviendrait de formuler cette question pour orienter correctement une éventuelle recherche.

• Après avoir relevé les thèmes « religieux » ayant fait l’objet d’une interrogation de type mathématique, Steinschneider pose la question de la réciprocité de ce mouvement : dans quelle mesure les mathéma- tiques ont-elles pu pénétrer dans le champ du religieux, affecter « la pensée et la pratique religieuses » ? C’est ainsi qu’il écrit : En face des intérêts proprement religieux et historiques pour l’activité mathématique, il reste à rechercher dans quelle mesure les concepts, les propriétés et les idées mathématiques ont pénétré dans la pensée et la pratique religieuses des juifs (in das religiöse Denken und Handeln der Juden eingedrungen sind).22 Reconnaissant que cette interrogation ne ressortit pas directement à l’histoire des mathématiques, Steinschneider se contente de signaler les références astrologiques dans certains livres de prières médiévaux.23

• Quel intérêt les chrétiens ont-ils manifesté au Moyen Âge pour les écrits hébraïques ? Posant cette question générale, Steinschneider se tourne vers les traductions de l’hébreu en latin d’ouvrages mathéma- tiques, et appelle de ses vœux des recherches spécialisées qui en éclai- reraient le détail et les motivations.24 Il convient de signaler que la recherche moderne a produit plusieurs études sur les ouvrages et/ou les auteurs mentionnés par Stein- schneider, et quelques autres ayant échappé à son attention. Mieux, le nombre et la diversité de ces études permettent d’espérer pour bientôt un tableau d’ensemble éclairant cet important chapitre de l’histoire médiévale européenne ; nous en donnons un aperçu dans l’appendice.

II. Les mathématiques, un élément de l’histoire culturelle des juifs

J’ai indiqué précédemment comment Steinschneider a commencé à s’intéresser aux écrits mathématiques à partir de ses préoccupations

22 MbJ I, 24. 23 MbJ I, 26, n. 12. 24 MbJ I, 152–154. 468 tony lévy de bibliographe, dans les années 1840, quand il a entrepris de rédiger un exposé d’ensemble de la « littérature juive ». Il convient de préciser que son intérêt pour les écrits mathématiques n’a cessé de s’affirmer et de s’approfondir au cours des décennies suivantes. Je voudrais suggé- rer que cet intérêt grandissant pour les « activités mathématiques dans le monde juif » repose sur deux éléments d’explication. Premièrement, les réalisations mathématiques, sans doute plus que toute autre activité scientifique, manifestent l’importance de l’individu par rapport aux influences—indéniables—du milieu, qu’il s’agisse de la nationalité, de la langue ou du pays natal. Deuxièmement, et bien que cela témoigne d’une apparente incohérence, Steinschneider n’a cessé d’insister sur le fait que les activités et les réalisations mathéma- tiques des juifs devaient être considérées comme « une part de leur histoire culturelle spécifique »,25 du moins jusqu’au milieu du XIXe siècle, s’agissant de l’Europe de l’Ouest. Précisons cette double remarque ; elle nous aidera à mieux saisir l’attitude de Steinschneider, et à nous interroger sur sa validité au regard de l’histoire des sciences. Dans ses remarques introductives à Mathematik bei den Juden I, Steinschneider commente les « motivations » qui ont pu conduire les juifs à s’occuper de mathématiques. Il entend éclairer ainsi un « aspect interne » du sujet dont il traite : « eine innere Seite des ganzen Thema ».26 Il commence par s’insurger avec colère contre les jugements historiques qui associent la concentration de juifs dans le commerce et dans le prêt à leur intérêt pour les sciences mathématiques : Quand donc les commerçants et les usuriers de n’importe quelle nation se sont-ils consacrés aux problèmes mathématiques les plus difficiles ? !27 Allant un peu plus loin dans la recherche des possibles liens entre conditions externes et motivations internes, il attire l’attention du lecteur sur la signification qu’on peut accorder à l’absence d’écrits sur la mécanique—qu’il considère sans doute comme une discipline pratique—en ces termes : Des gens exclus de la vie publique, et dans une certaine mesure de la vie sociale (pour une part en raison de leurs lois cérémonielles) se tourneront

25 MbJ II, vol. 50 (1906) : 115 : « ein Element ihrer eigenen Kulturgeschichte ». 26 MbJ I, 21. 27 MbJ I, 22 : « Wann haben Handelsleute und Wucherer irgend einer Nation zu den schwierigsten Problemen der Mathematik sich je verstiegen ?! ». MATHEMATIK BEI DEN JUDEN, cent ans après 469

naturellement vers des objectifs plus abstraits (wenden sich naturgemäss mehr abstracten Gegenständen zu) ; aujourd’hui encore les juifs russes se consacrent avec plaisir à l’invention de machines à calculer ; et dans l’art du jeu d’échecs—qui n’engendre aucun profit—, où il s’agit de combi- naisons abstraites, on ne compte pas peu, de nos jours, de champions juifs (zählt noch die neueste Zeit nicht wenige jüdische Matadore).28 Je suppose qu’avec ces exemples, Steinschneider veut souligner l’opposition entre un objectif théorique et un but pratique et insister sur l’autonomie du travail scientifique par rapport aux influences externes. C’est dans la même perspective qu’il marque avec force l’importance de l’individu au regard de l’influence du milieu quand il écrit : . . . lorsqu on pénètrera dans le détail des sciences exactes et empiriques, on verra s’affirmer l’importance de l’individu par rapport aux influences indéniables [des circonstances] de la naissance (nationalité, langue et pays natal).29 Et pourtant, dans le même mouvement, il affirme qu’il ne faut pas minorer l’importance des intérêts pratiques et religieux dans la dyna- mique de l’activité mathématique. Par « intérêts pratiques », il désigne l’ensemble des activités que l’historien rassemble sous le titre de géomé- trie pratique : arpentage, division des terrains, évaluations de distances, calculs d’aires etc. . . S’agissant des motivations « religieuses », Stein- schneider mentionne évidemment les éléments d’astronomie associés au calcul calendaire (dans ce domaine, les textes abondent) ; il relève aussi les quelques problèmes à caractère géométrique ou arithmétique qui apparaissent dans la littérature biblique et post-biblique tels que : les dimensions du bassin circulaire dans le Temple (rapport de la cir- conférence à son diamètre), l’optimisation des surfaces cultivables en relation avec l’interdit portant sur les mélanges de plantes (recherche de formes géométriques soumises à certaines contraintes et présen- tant une superficie maximale), l’écriture des nombres en relation avec les lettres de l’alphabet hébraïque, la valeur « numérique » des mots, voire des versets et leur usage exégétique (gematria).30

28 MbJ I, 22. 29 Steinschneider, « Miszellen. § 53, Jüdische Aerzte », Zeitschrift für Hebräische Biblio- graphie VIII (1904) : 151–155, à la p. 153. 30 MbJ I, 22–24. A ce propos, voir G. B. Mathematical Terminology in Hebrew Scientiﬁc Literature of the Middle Ages (héb.) ( Jérusalem, Magnes Press, The Hebrew University, 1968), ch. 1–3. 470 tony lévy

Ces thèmes relèvent tous de « l’histoire culturelle » des juifs, notion qui joue un rôle central dans la conception historiographique, voire historique ou philosophique, de Steinschneider. Comment comprendre l’extension que Steinschneider attribue à cette notion ? Les lignes qui suivent sont éclairantes : En général, il convient cependant d’indiquer l’importance de la recherche et du savoir qui a graduellement conduit les juifs de l’étude de la Bible à l’étude en tant que telle, en fournissant également, dans ce cadre étroit, un puissant support à l’ambition.31 Pour Steinschneider, l’histoire des mathématiques dans les commu- nautés juives apparaît comme un mouvement progressif d’affran- chissement par rapport aux déterminations spécifiques, aux données culturelles juives, vers l’activité scientifique pure ; ajoutons que l’activité mathématique, plus que toute autre, peut être qualifiée de « pure » et qu’elle offre une large latitude à l’expression du génie individuel, au sens où Steinschneider semble l’entendre. Cette interprétation de l’histoire qu’on peut, à bon droit, désigner comme « très idéaliste et quasi-hégelienne »,32 a caractérisé assez tôt le point de vue de Steinschneider concernant le rapport entre l’histoire « culturelle » des juifs et l’histoire « universelle ». Le long développe- ment qui suit a été publié par Steinschneider en 1859 ; le point de vue qu’il y expose ne s’est pas infléchi au cours des années : On s’interroge aujourd hui : qu’y a-t-il de commun entre les travaux scientifiques et littéraires réalisés par des juifs et ne relevant pas du judaïsme [die nicht mit dem Judenthum zusammenhängen] d’une part et la science juive [mit der jüdischen Wissenschaft] d’autre part ? Autre- ment dit, on identifie judaïsme et science juive avec la théologie, puisque notre science—et pas seulement elle—est issue de la théologie. Mais dans la mesure où les juifs prennent part à tous les domaines du savoir, qu’ils communiquent, dans toutes les langues vivantes et mortes avec leurs concitoyens ou avec le vaste monde savant, il s’ensuit que la nation juive [die jüd. Nationalität] aura une part au moins aussi importante que, par exemple, la [nation] allemande relativement aux écrits mathématiques et médicaux [issus de la plume] de professeurs rédigeant

31 MbJ I, 24 : « Im Allgemeinen ist aber auf die Bedeutung des Forschens und Wissens hinzuweisen, welche bei den Juden allmälig von dem Studium der Bibel auf das Stu- dium überhaupt überging und ebenfalls in dem engen Spielraum für den Ehrgeiz eine mächtige Stütze erhielt ». 32 Baron, « Moritz Steinschneider’s Contributions to Jewish Historiography », p. 91 : « strongly idealistic, almost Hegelian interpretation ». MATHEMATIK BEI DEN JUDEN, cent ans après 471

en allemand ou en latin ; et pourtant, même à propos de ces sciences générales, on parle de la « minutie allemande [deutschen Gründlich- keit] » et de la «finasserie juive [ jüdischen Spitzfindigkeit] ». Cette participation peut emprunter divers degrés, dans la forme et dans le contenu, selon les époques et les individus ; c’est précisément pourquoi nous exigeons, dès lors qu’il s’agit de réalisations individuelles, que soit examiné avec soin ce rapport [aux données variables], bien avant de prononcer un jugement sur l’importance de l’élément spécifi- quement juif. Nous affirmons que le concept « juif » ne doit pas être considéré seulement en termes de dogmes et de rituels, mais que le développement culturel [ juif ] tout entier doit être vu comme le miroir des idées religieuses et morales et des convictions nationales sous-jacentes. Tel est l’objectif de l’histoire et de l’histoire littéraire [das Ziel der Geschichte u. Literaturgeschichte] ; le chemin qui y conduit est évi- demment très ardu et laborieux ; sur ce chemin, les uns se fatiguent et s’assoupissent, d’autres s’égarent, et nombreux sont ceux qui perdent complètement de vue l’objectif ; cette arrière-garde a toujours constitué pour les gens pressés la caricature qu’ils souhaitaient, ces gens pour qui le principal, c’est la « production », c’est-à-dire se faire connaître pour de l’argent, peu importe que l’objectif soit loin en avant, loin en arrière, ou bien qu’on tourne en rond. La littérature est le point culminant de la formation culturelle [der Gipfelpunkt der Bildung], et il y a seulement deux grandes littératures mondiales auxquelles les juifs ont pris une part éminente : la littérature arabe et la littérature allemande. Au sein des Arabes et des Allemands, le judaïsme s’est « ouvert », au sens où il ne s’est pas replié [ Unter Arabern und Deutschen ist das Judenthum « aufgegangen », d.h. nicht zu Grunde gegangen] ; bien plu- tôt, avec son approche spécifique, il a reconnu l’unité des grandes idées universelles de l’humanité et ainsi il a brisé les chaînes qui l’isolaient, à la façon dont la liberté et la science nous élèvent toujours du particulier au général, du corporatisme, de la superstition et des préjugés à la Loi et au concept. [Évaluer] la place du judaïsme au sein de ces contextes littéraires est l’une des plus nobles tâches assignables à notre historiographie, tout aussi importante pour elle-même que pour l’histoire littéraire universelle.33 Cette vision de l’histoire, cette insistance à distinguer histoire politique et histoire culturelle et littéraire, ce souci permanent de rapporter, sur tous les plans, l’histoire « culturelle » des juifs à celle de l’environnement

33 Steinschneider, « [Compte-rendu de] Meyer Kayserling, Sephardim. Romanische Poesien der Juden in Spanien (Leipzig, H. Mendelssohn, 1859) », Hebräische Bibliographie II (1859) : 81–83, aux p. 82–83 ; cité en partie dans : Baron, « Moritz Steinschneider’s Contributions to Jewish Historiography », p. 86 et 90–91. 472 tony lévy non-juif, demanderaient à l’évidence un examen et un commentaire plus amples et mieux instruits.34 Ce rappel permet toutefois de situer les commentaires que Steinschneider a consacrés au développement des mathématiques au sein du monde juif. Je m’appuierai ici sur les remarques conclusives qu’il nous a livrées en 1906, à la fin de son Mathematik bei den Juden. A suivre Steinschneider, deux éléments rendent compte de la fin progressive de « l’histoire culturelle juive », longtemps restée relativement autonome par rapport à « l’histoire générale » : d’une part l’usage croissant des langues nationales au détriment de l’hébreu, phénomène qui s’amorce à la fin du XVIIIe siècle ; d’autre part le changement du statut juridique des juifs, au moins en Europe de l’ouest, au milieu du XIXe siècle. Détaillons ces remarques : si brèves soient-elles, elles valent qu’on s’y arrête. Alors qu’il est en train de recenser les publications mathé- matiques des toutes dernières années du XVIIIe siècle, Steinschneider s’interrompt pour livrer « des remarques à caractère général » relatives au « tournant » qu’il décèle dans cette fin de siècle : L’influence pédagogique de Mendelssohn et de son école [. . .] concernant l’apprentissage précoce de la langue du pays, le retentissement grandissant de la Révolution française sur la situation sociale et scientifique des lettrés et écrivains juifs, ont pour effet la transformation progressive de la langue d’expression des disciplines dites « profanes », c’est-à-dire rigou- reusement scientifiques [. . .]. Les juifs allemands sous autorité française se mirent à écrire en français ; les juifs allemands [en pays allemand] substituèrent à leur vieux jargon judéo-allemand, imprimé en caractères hébraïques [ihr veraltetes, jargonisiertes, mit hebräischen Typen gedruk- tes Judendeutsch], un bon allemand littéraire [korrektem Hochdeutsch], lequel, durant la période de transition, reste habillé de caractères hébraï- ques. Bientôt cependant l’écriture [Schrift] allemande triompha aussi, dans les relations commerciales et familiales, comme dans les belles- lettres et la littérature scientifique. Le signe graphique [der Buchstabe] fonctionna comme un vêtement spirituel, à la manière dont le costume entretient le corps. Les effets de ces deux phénomènes [l’écriture et le costume] sur le rapport encore « international » [non national]—entre compatriotes juifs et chrétiens seraient à étudier dans le cadre de l’histoire culturelle juive.35

34 Une telle analyse est esquissée dans Baron, « Moritz Steinschneider’s Contribu- tions to Jewish Historiography », p. 85–106. 35 MbJ II, vol. 50 (1906) : 102–103. MATHEMATIK BEI DEN JUDEN, cent ans après 473

On peut difficilement contester la pertinence historique du constat : la pratique de la langue nationale et la transformation du statut social du lettré juif se conjuguent pour ouvrir progressivement l’histoire « culturelle » des juifs à l’histoire « nationale », tout particulièrement dans le domaine scientifique. Il reste toutefois que cette évolution n’est pas linéaire ; son rythme est variable selon les périodes, les lieux et les disciplines. Pour s’en tenir aux écrits mathématiques, qui nous concernent ici, il conviendrait d’examiner méthodiquement les écrits qui sont encore rédigés en hébreu, à partir de la fin du XVIIIe siècle. Quelle part effective représentent-ils au sein de la production en langue « nationale » ? Quelles en sont les motivations ? Quel en est le contenu, au regard des sciences « nouvelles » ? Quel est le public visé ? s’agit-il essentiellement de manuels élémentaires, à objectif pédagogique ?36 Il revient aux historiens d’aujourd hui d’entreprendre une telle recherche, à partir du matériau rassemblé par Steinschneider. Il ne semble pas que Steinschneider lui-même ait été sensible à cette question. Pourquoi ? La réponse gît peut-être dans la conviction qui était la sienne quant au futur de la langue hébraïque : avec l’égalité juridique des juifs qui s’amorce au milieu du XIXe siècle (au moins en Europe de l’ouest) et le mouvement d’intégration de « l’histoire culturelle » des juifs dans l’histoire nationale/universelle, l’hébreu n’aurait plus vocation à être le vecteur des sciences nouvelles. De manière quelque peu solennelle, Steinschneider voit dans l’année 1848 l’irruption de « l’histoire générale [die Gesamtgeschichte] » dans l’histoire des juifs restée apparemment à l’arrière plan [in der scheinbar zurück- gebliebenen Geschichte der Juden]. Et il poursuit ainsi : Jusque là, les mathématiques chez les juifs constituaient un élément de leur histoire culturelle spécifique [ Bis dahin war die Mathematik bei den Juden ein Element ihrer eigenen Kulturgeschichte], non sans influence du « milieu », pour donner aussi à ce terme à la mode une place dans la science du judaïsme. [. . .]

36 Prenons le cas du maskil Barukh ben Jacob (1744–1808) de Skhlow (Biélorussie), accueilli à Berlin dans le cercle de Mendelssohn en 1777. Il publie à La Haye en 1780 une version hébraïque (à partir de quelles sources ?) des Éléments d’Euclide, Livres 1–6 ; puis, à Prague en 1784, un ouvrage de géométrie (Qene ha-middah), traduit, semble-t-il, de l’anglais, et réédité à Sklow en 1793 (MbJ II, vol. 50 (1906) : 739 et H. Lausch, « The Ignorant Hold Back their Judgment and Await the Conclusion of the Knowing : Moses Mendelssohn and Other Mathematicians », Aleph 2 (2002) : 93–109, à la p. 100). Que peut-on savoir exactement des motivations et des objectifs de ces publications ? A ce sujet, voir A. Fishman, « A Polish Rabbi meets the Berlin Haskala. The Case of R. Barukh Schick », Association of Jewish Studies Review 12 (1987) : 95–121. 474 tony lévy

Avec l’égalité juridique des juifs [mit der gesetzlichen Gleichstellung der Juden] dans les États civilisés là où le « recul encouragé » [ par l’orthodoxie juive ?] n’a pas conduit à la propagande anti-juive, l’élément spé- cifiquement juif dans les sciences exactes s’est perdu, dans ce domaine où, généralement, le génial et l’exceptionnel n’est jamais national, mais bien plutôt individuel [verliert sich das specifisch Jüdische in der strengen Wissenschaft, wo überhaupt das Geniale und Hervorragende stets nicht national sondern individual ist]. Là où les juifs apprennent à penser dans la langue du pays (nos écoles promeuvent la pensée dans une langue déterminée), leurs réalisations insérées dans une histoire qui comporte des rubriques nationales appar- tiennent au peuple dont la langue est, ou sera, la leur. L’avenir de la langue hébraïque, en dehors des discussions talmudi- ques, ne sera pas décidé à Jérusalem ou à Bâle, mais à Petersbourg ou Varsovie.37 Bien sûr, Steinschneider s’est trompé, quant à l’avenir de la langue hébraïque. Peut-être conviendrait-il de s’interroger à cet égard sur la conception qu’il se faisait de la « science du judaïsme » et des tâches qu’on pouvait, qu’on devait, lui assigner. Son point de vue, on le sait, a évolué au fil des décennies, en même temps qu’évoluait le statut des juifs dans les « États civilisés ».38 S’agissant des écrits mathématiques auxquels il a consacré tant d’énergie et tant de passion (à côté d’autres domaines, il est vrai), que pouvait bien attendre Steinschneider de cette prodigieuse, intrigante et inclassable collection de témoignages offerts au « spécialiste » ? Je dirais ceci : que le « spécialiste » contribue, avec la même rigueur, à évaluer la place, la portée et les limites de ces écrits dans « l’histoire culturelle » des juifs et, peut-être encore plus, dans l’histoire « universelle » des sciences. Un tableau détaillé de la bibliographie des études entreprises depuis un siècle dans le domaine permettra de dresser un bilan. D’ores et déjà, on peut dire que, sans être du tout négligeable, ce bilan laisse encore en friche une large part du chantier balisé par Steinschneider.

37 MbJ II, vol. 50 (1906) : 115–116. 38 On connaît la sombre formule attribuée à Steinschneider par un des ses élèves, au lendemain de la mort du maître (1907), selon laquelle « la seule tâche qui nous incombe encore est d’assurer aux restes du judaïsme un enterrement décent (Wir haben nur noch die Aufgabe die Überreste des Judentums ehrenvoll zu bestatten) ». Pour une utile mise en perspective de ladite formule, voir C. H. Manekin, « Stein- schneider’s ‘Decent Burial’ : A Reappraisal », in Study and Knowledge in Jewish Thought, ed. H. Kreisel (Beer Sheva, Ben-Gurion University of the Negev Press, 2006), p. 239–251. APPENDICE

Traductions latines d’ouvrages mathématiques en hébreu. Stein- schneider et la recherche moderne

XIIe siècle • Abraham bar Æiyya : géométrie. Mathematik bei den Juden I, 86 ; Lévy « Les débuts de la littérature mathématique hébraïque » (n. 18). • Abraham Ibn Ezra : astronomie, astrologie, astrolabe, arithmétique, géométrie. Mathematik bei den Juden I, 89–90 ; Sh. Sela Abraham ibn Ezra and the Rise of Medieval Hebrew Science (Leiden : Brill, 2003) ; Sh. Sela et G. Freudenthal, « Abraham Ibn Ezra’s Scholarly Writings : A Chro- nological Listing », Aleph 6 (2006) : 13–55 ; R. Smithuis, « Abraham ibn Ezra’s Astrological Works in Hebrew and Latin : New Discove- ries and Exhaustive Listing », Aleph 6 (2006) : 239–338 ; T. Lévy et C. Burnett « Sefer ha-Middot : A Mid-Twelfth-Century Text on Arith- metic and Geometry Attributed to Abraham Ibn Ezra », Aleph 6 (2006) : 57–238.

XIIIe siècle • Jacob ben Makhir : géométrie. Mathematik bei den Juden I, 112–113 ; M. Clagett, Archimedes in the Middle Ages. Vol. 3 : The Fate of the Medie- val Archimedes : 1300 to 1565 (Philadelphia, American Philosophical Society, 1978), pp. 218–219.

XIV e siècle • Levi ben Gershom : astronomie, astrologie, trigonométrie, arithmé- tique musicale. Mathematik bei den Juden I, 130–134 ; J.-L. Mancha, « The Latin Translation of Levi ben Gerson’s Astronomy », in Studies on Gersonides : A Fourteenth-Century Jewish Philosopher-Scientist, éd. G. Freu- denthal (Leiden, Brill, 1992), p. 21 46 ; B. R. Goldstein et D. Pingree Levi ben Gerson’s Prognostication for the Conjunction of 1345 (Philadelphia, American Philosophical Society, 1990) ; P. Espenshade, « A Text on Trigonometry by Levi Ben Gerson (1288–1344) », The Mathematics Teacher 60 (1967) : 628–637 ; C. Meyer et J.-F. Wicker, « Musique et mathématiques au XIVe siècle. Le De numeris harmonicis de Leo Hebraeus », Archives Internationales d’histoire des sciences 50 (2000) : 32 66. 476 tony lévy

• Jacob Po{el : astronomie. Mathematik bei den Juden I, 153 ; J. Chabás, L’astronomia de Jacob Ben David Bonjorn (Barcelona, Institut d’estudis catalans, 1992). • Immanuel Bonﬁls de Tarascon, astronomie. Mathematik bei den Juden I, 156 ; P. Solon, « The Six Wings of Immanuel Bonﬁls and Michael Chrysokokkes », Centaurus 15 (1970) : 1–20.

XVe siècle • Abraham Zacut, astronomie. Mathematik bei den Juden I, 201–203 ; J. Chabás et B. R. Goldstein, Astronomy in the Iberian Peninsula : Abraham Zacut and the Transition from Manuscript to Print (Philadelphia, American Philosophical Society, 2000). 22. STEINSCHNEIDER AS HISTORIAN*

Norman Golb

Steinschneider’s renown in the world of scholarship derives primarily from his magisterial catalogues of Hebrew manuscript collections and from his precise and systematic presentations of discrete categories of medieval intellectual writings.1 His mastery of all of the subjects treated by him in this manner has led to his being characterized, in some circles, as a “bibliographer,” and, in others, as an “orientalist”— terminology that stubbornly clings to him and resists amelioration. Such portrayals, however, tend to diminish the variety and impact of Steinschneider’s achievements by virtue of their concentrating only on certain aspects of his oeuvre that happen to quantitatively outweigh others. A perusal of writings by him not classiﬁable simply as “orientalist” or “bibliographic” in nature, however, tends to encourage a wider appreciation of his contributions to knowledge—and also gives rise to the question of his long-range goals as a cultural researcher. In point of fact, my own interest in Steinschneider today is not so much to insist that he was a historian or was not a bibliographer, but rather to inquire into his oeuvre with the purpose of determining, as far as possible, how his research career might best be characterized in terms of scholarship—and in so doing, to detect whether any long- range unifying scheme sparked his labors. Let us consider certain well- known evidence, bibliographic or otherwise, that may be germane to these questions and their possible resolution. By the time Steinschneider had reached his 21st year (1837), Leo- pold Zunz’s “Verein für Cultur und Wissenschaft des Judenthums” had already been established for 18 years, and his Zeitschrift für die

* I was both pleasantly surprised and somewhat chagrined when, only recently, I discovered Internet references to a 2006 seminar at University College London, entitled Hebrew Bibliography, Steinschneider and After. This included a study by Prof. Joseph Hacker termed “Steinschneider the Historian.” I do hope not to be found repeating ideas of his in this paper. As of this writing, his work on this subject does not yet appear to be available. 1 Cf. e.g.: Pol. Lit. ( Leipzig, 1877), HÜ ( Berlin, 1893), and Arab. Lit. ( Frankfurt a. M., 1902). 478 norman golb

Wissenschaft des Judenthums for 14 years; moreover, Zunz’s own writings—I refer particularly to Die Gottesdienstlichen Vorträge (1832) and, even more so, to his Zur Geschichte und Literatur (1845)—would soon be eloquently illustrating the scientiﬁc goals of the Verein and the Zeitschrift particularly as conceived by Zunz himself. Zunz’s goal went beyond earlier formulations of the “Jüdische Wissenschaft” concept—it was to establish, by the example of his own writings, a veritable science of Judaism, secularly conceived and based ﬁrmly on sound philological and historical method. The subject of this study was, and for him was always to be, Judaism and the history and culture of the Jewish people. As for Steinschneider, at the early stages of his scholarly life he was apparently in full accord with this ideal. Yet it is no secret that in his youth, both in Prossnitz and later in Nikolsburg, while excelling as a student of Hebrew and Rabbinics, he also mastered Italian and French. He must have perceived soon enough his linguistic gifts. When at the age of 17 he moved to Prague (1833)—with Zunz’s Gottesdienstliche Vor- träge having appeared but one year earlier—he divided his time between Hebraic studies at the Jewish Lehranstalt on the one hand, and other disciplines of a strictly non-Hebraic nature, including philosophy and modern languages, at the city’s Normalschule on the other hand. This was the pattern he again followed, but with even greater intensity, after moving to Vienna in 1836, at the age of 20: immers- ing himself in advanced rabbinic studies leading to a mastery both of halakhic subjects and Hebrew language, as well as sessions with Leopold Dukes (1810–1891) in the areas of Jewish bibliography and medieval literature—while yet attending lectures in Arabic and other Semitic languages at the university’s Catholic theological faculty. And, while there, he also translated various moral fables of Hebrew, French and Italian origin into German for Abraham Belais’s Sammlung on that subject, as well as publishing, in book form, letters related to Samson Raphael Hirsch’s (then controversial) work Horeb. Three years later, having reached his 23rd birthday, and by then, after tentative stays elsewhere, having moved to Leipzig, he furthered his Arabic, intensively, under the masterful Heinrich Leberecht Flei- scher (1801–1888), initiated additional Hebraic and Semitic studies under Franz Julius Delitzsch (1813–1890), and even collaborated with the latter on an edition (published in 1841) of the Hebrew text of Etz Æayyim by the 14th-century Karaite Aaron ben Elijah. steinschneider as historian 479

Alexander Marx, in his useful but necessarily incomplete biography of Steinschneider,2 points out that, even during this very early period in his writing career, he was able to contribute “a large number of shorter or longer articles” to Johann Friedrich Pierer’s Universallexikon, “mostly on Arabic literature and religion”; and Marx adds that only a small group treated of Jewish subjects. Actually, according to George Alexander Kohut’s bibliography, they were all on Arabic/Islamic subjects.3 This does not in any way imply, however, that Steinschneider contemplated forsaking Judaica scholarship; his subsequent career obviously shows the opposite. I mean only to indicate how highly competent he had become, and at such an early age, in the ﬁeld of Arabic studies—a development which in turn helps to explain the very distinct and unusual paths that his scholarship took in subsequent years. Late in 1839 he moved to Berlin, where during a period of two years he would expand his realm of general knowledge still further (Marx mentions studies in such areas as comparative [ Indo-European] philology, Greek literature, Ethiopic, and Palestinography), while continuing his pursuit of Hebraica and Rabbinics, and beginning his enduring personal friendship with Zunz—to mention only some of his activities during that ﬁrst sojourn. Toward the end of 1841 he returned to Prague. Engaged there as an instructor in Jewish and Hebraic subjects, he wrote several scholarly articles, including a 40–page monograph on the foreign elements in Tannaitic Hebrew and their application in linguistic studies. Increas- ing dissatisfaction with his situation, however, led to his resettlement in Berlin in 1845, shortly before his 30th year. Thereupon his writings began to show constantly increasing levels of intensity on an astonishing variety of subjects. His major work of that period, written between 1845 and 1847, was his Jüdische Literatur published in the Ersch-Gruber encyclopaedia in 1850 and in English translation in 1857. Marx suggests that his decision was to lead a life “dedicated to the study of the Jewish past,” but the contours of his scholarship in their unfolding inspire a somewhat different appreciation of his goals and labors.

2 A. Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography ( Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 5708/1947), pp. 112–84. 3 G. A. Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Prof. M. Steinschneider,” in: H. Malter and A. Marx (eds.), Festschrift zum achtzigsten Geburtstag Moritz Steinschneiders ( Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1896), p. XXXIII. 480 norman golb

Let us consider the various main subject categories into which his writings fall.4 I divide them into no fewer than nine discrete categories, namely:

• Articles and monographs on the history of mathematics and astronomy (including, of course, the participation of Jews in the mathematical sciences), published over a period of 35 years in the Zeitschrift für Mathematik und Physik (1865–1886) and in Bibliotheca Mathematica (1887–1899), including also such groundbreaking studies as his “Abraham Judeus/Savasorda und ibn Ezra” and his “Abra- ham ibn Ezra”; studies on the 11th-century Arab astronomer Zarqali, published in the Bullettino di Bibliografia e di Storia delle scienze matematiche e fisiche between 1881 and 1887, and reissued thereafter in book form in 1888; and various other monographic essays, e.g., those on aspects of Arabic mathematics in the 10th century and on the Speculum astronomicum of Albertus Magnus and his sources. • Multifarious biographies of Jewish savants, mostly published over several decades in the Ersch-Gruber encyclopaedia and otherwise in diverse journals, and gathered together in part as “Gelehrten- Geschichte” in the only published volume of his Gesammelte Schriften, edited by Henry Malter and Alexander Marx and published in 1925 (pp. 1–326 and 507–637). • Various monographs on the history of ancient and medieval medicine: these appeared in the Archiv für pathologische Ana- tomie und Physiologie und für klinische Medicin, 1867 through 1899, and include, inter alia, studies on al-Razi, the Arabic sources of Con- stantinus Africanus, Sabbatai Donnolo and the School of Salerno, Arabic toxicological writings, Maimonides’ discourse on poisons, and al-Ghafiqi’s compendium of cures. • Writings on the inter-religious debates of the Middle Ages: these include not only his Polemische und apologetische Literatur . . . zwischen Muslimen, Christen und Juden (1877), but also shorter writings, such as his edition of Nahmanides’ Wikkua (Berlin, 1860). • Writings on the history of philosophy and ethics: these include his outstanding monograph Al-Farabi (1869); a detailed discussion of the medieval Hebrew encyclopaedias of philosophy and science in his Hebräische Übersetzungen des Mittelalters (pp. 1–42); his edition of the Musar haskel attributed to Hai Gaon; a book-length

4 For details cf. the bibliography of Steinschneider’s writings (above, n. 3). steinschneider as historian 481

German translation of Samuel b. Judah of Marseilles’s Ma’mar ha- Nefesh, i.e., Samuel’s rendering of Alexander of Aphrodisias’ treatise on the soul, prepared for publication by the Kaiserliche Akademie but never published; and various essays including his study of the Jewish reworkings of Aristotle’s Metaphysics in the Zunz Jubelschrift of 1884 (on the occasion of his 90th birthday). • Hebrew palaeography and linguistics: lengthier studies include not only his Fremdsprachlichen Elemente, but also his Bibliogra- phisches Handbuch über die theoretische und praktische Literatur für hebräische Sprachkunde (1859) and his Vorlesungen über die Kunde hebräischer Hand- schriften (1897). • Bibliographical studies: (a) numerous books and articles describing, inter alia, Hebrew and Latin translations of Arabic writings, Arabic-language treatises of Jewish authorship, and Arabic-language translations of works originally written in Greek; (b) catalogues of the Hebrew manuscripts in Leiden, Munich, Hamburg, and Ber- lin; (c) the catalogue of the Hebrew printed books in the Bodleian library; (d) a catalogue of Karaite manuscripts published in the Monatsschrift; and (e) essays, articles and notes on bibliographical subjects appearing particularly in twenty volumes of the Hebräische Bibliographie between 1858 and 1881, in nine volumes of the Bullettino di Bibliografia between 1868 and 1880, in the Deutsche Literaturzeitung between 1881 and 1896, and in various volumes of Serapeum between 1845 and 1870. ( We should note, however, that even in these last- mentioned pages of bibliographical periodicals one finds excursuses by him on diverse topics.) • Synthetic works: the aforementioned Jüdische Literatur of 1850 and its annotated English translation; his Geschichte der Juden von der Zer- störung Jerusalems bis zur Gegenwart, published in installments in the Jahresberichte der Geschichtswissenschaft between 1878 and 1883; and his Die Geschichtsliteratur der Juden in Druckwerken und Handschriften, of which only the volume on Hebrew historical writings has appeared (1905). • Judaeo-Arabic literary culture: Steinschneider’s fundamental work in this field of studies, aided of course by writings of his in various periodicals over several decades, is his Die arabische Literatur der Juden (1902), which is an exceptional catalogue raisonné and analysis of the extant Judaeo-Arabic literary texts known in his day. (I add parenthetically that Marx states that Steinschneider’s access to the Bodleian manuscripts convinced him “that the publication of his planned Bibliotheca Judaeo-Arabica would be entirely premature. . . . In 482 norman golb

consequence his plan was postponed for many decades” [my italics].5— While a trilogy of Steinschneider’s works eventually constituted the tentative form of such a project, until today no systematic effort to publish the entirety of the Judaeo-Arabic codices extant in the world’s libraries—implicit in the term “bibliotheca”—has taken place. One must hope that such a project, incorporating, of course, all of the Judaeo-Arabic literary texts of the Cairo Genizah, but still having as its basis the fundamental and groundbreaking work done by Stein- schneider on the many earlier-known library texts, will someday be accomplished.) * From the total record of Steinschneider’s scholarly achievements, of which only highlights may be brieﬂy mentioned here, one is, I believe, obliged to offer both an overall assessment of his work and a designation for it that are somewhat removed from those currently in vogue. He was a devoted and indefatigable scholar of all aspects of the Hebraic past, but also a master of Arabic language and culture, an analytic historian of mathematics, a researcher in the ﬁeld of medical and pharmaceutical history, and a meticulous investigator of the transmission of knowledge both from Greek to Arabic sources and from the latter to Latin and other European translations. In all of the writings in these latter categories, of course, he never failed to include relevant contributions known to him of the Jewish savants of Islamic and European lands. Reviewing the intensity, variety, and masterful quality of his writings, I feel obliged to suggest that somewhere in the course of his life, probably soon after his years of work on the great Bodleian catalogue of Hebrew printed books (1850–1858), Steinschneider apparently began focusing on the question of the interrelationships of the disciplines he was in the process of mastering. This would have been due not only to the discoveries that he himself was constantly making through his manuscript investigations, but also to the obvious fact—of which he could not have avoided being keenly aware—that scholars of medieval culture contemporary with him, most of them comfortably ensconced (unlike himself ) in their European universities, were generally engaged in the study only of the non-Hebraic and non-Jewish aspects of medieval

5 Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography, p. 134. steinschneider as historian 483 culture, thus fostering in their publications an incomplete and often distorted picture of that culture’s dynamic, multifaceted, and often mutually contradictory components. What Steinschneider himself seems to have been seeking to encourage in the longer run, as implied by the guideposts of his achievements, was the integration of knowledge of the medieval past in all of its significant manifestations, obviously with the expectation that a monumental task of this nature could not be accomplished by one person in a single lifetime. We should bear in mind that, at the opposite end of the intellectual spectrum, Wilhelm Dilthey (1833–1911), holding successive chairs, from 1866 on, at several universities and finally, from 1882, in Berlin, was approaching the problem of the unity of humanistic knowledge—what he termed Geisteswissenschaft—from a purely philosophic perspective. To quote a characteristic dictum of Dilthey’s: “The mind rediscovers itself at ever higher levels of complex involvement; this identity of mind in the I and Thou, in every subject of a community, in every system of culture … makes successful cooperation between different processes in the human studies possible.”6 ( We note in passing the magnificent edition in many volumes of Dilthey’s Gesammelte Schriften—whereas all this time, until today, but one lonely volume of Steinschneider’s [potential] Gesammelte Schriften has appeared. While many of his writings are now available on-line, a printed edition of his complete writings remains an intellectual desideratum and a moral obligation of the world of learning.) In effect, Steinschneider by his personal example had begun making efforts toward interrelating the disciplines entailed by such cooperation as Dilthey envisaged, even while the latter was only beginning to formulate his ideas on the nature and processes of a future Geisteswis- senschaft. I do not believe it is known whether he and Steinschneider as much as conversed after Dilthey’s arrival in Berlin, or whether Dilthey himself ever recognized Hebraic and Judaic learning as an integral component of the overall Geisteswissenschaft as he conceived of it.

6 I have here quoted H. P. Rickman’s 1976 translation in his W. Dilthey—Selected Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), p. 208, apud Dilthey, Gesam- melte Schriften VII, p. 191: “Das Verstehen ist ein Wiederﬁnden des Ich im Du; der Geist ﬁndet sich auf immer höheren Stufen von Zusammenhang wieder; diese Selbig- keit des Geistes im Ich, im Du, in jedem Subjekt einer Gemeinschaft, in jedem System der Kultur, schließlich in der Totalität des Geistes und der Universalgeschichte macht das Zusammenwirken der verschiedenen Leistungen in den Geisteswissenschaften möglich.” 484 norman golb

Nor, on the other hand, can I find any record of efforts by Judaica scholars or others, after Steinschneider’s death, to pursue the goal of integration of the disciplines. That is why, in today’s universities, Judaic Studies, as a notable example, remain mostly isolated in separate departments of their own. So-called “medieval institutes,” on the other hand, as a rule concentrate mainly or even exclusively on the study of medieval Christian Europe. Only the creation in Europe of a higher Institute for the integration of the fields of medieval learning, one that could rightfully bear the name of Steinschneider himself, would or will be able some day to change that reality. Focusing now on the salient problem of Steinschneider’s scholarly designation, we might best initially consider what an earlier Moses would have considered to be his negative attributes. He was not a political historian or an economic or military historian. He was not a historical synthesizer dependent upon the published works of others. He did not deal with the pervasive phenomenon of historic change, was definitely not a prophetic historian of the future, nor did he come close to perceiving, through historic deduction or otherwise, what would be the fate of the Jewish people of Europe during the 20th century, when that thing rose up which almost succeeded in crushing the vision never more poignantly or eloquently expressed than by Steinschneider himself. In terms, however, of positive attributes, I would propose on the basis of his overall achievement, in its complexity, that he may best be described as a cultural historian, one who specialized particularly in the Middle Ages and in the intellectual role of the Jews in the medieval culture of Europe and the Islamic lands: in fewer words, the foremost truly ecumenical historian of the Middle Ages who has yet appeared in any land. The working tools of his historical investigations were, on the one hand, fundamental bibliographies that he himself created based upon exhaustive study of manuscripts; and, on the other hand, the many languages of which he had such a highly professional command, necessarily including both Semitic and European languages, and which were in effect essential for the pursuit of his goals. * Allow me but a few additional words regarding Steinschneider the man of humanistic learning and humane judgment. Although many of the seminal articles in the old and still valuable Jewish Encyclopaedia (1901–1906) are based upon earlier researches done by Steinschneider, the treatment of the man himself, in the article about him, is puzzling steinschneider as historian 485 and problematic.7 At its beginning Dr. Isidore Singer describes him as, yes, an “Austrian bibliographer and Orientalist,” and after a sketch of aspects of his career and a partial bibliography of his writings, he concludes with the following statement: “Very interesting and highly characteristic is Steinschneider’s philosophic testament in the preface to his Arabische Literatur der Juden, in which he who laid the main foundation of the study of Jewish literature and history did not hesitate, at the age of eighty-six, to formulate an agnostic confession de foi.” I beg to take issue with this statement of the Encyclopaedia. Stein- schneider’s actual, positive confession de foi and the statement that matters most, in another passage of the same preface, has apparently been disregarded by the Encyclopaedia’s editor-in-chief. That passage reads: Aufgabe desjenigen, der die Gesamtheit zu leiten sich berufen fühlt, ist es, das Gemeinschaftliche in den verschiedenen Kreisen der Mensch- heit hervorzuheben: auf den “einen Vater unser Aller”—auf das, was die Menschen einander nähert, hinzuweisen; der edle Mensch fühlt sich berufen, edle Menschheit zu fördern, er dient in der “Heilsarmee” ohne Waffen, ohne Traktätchen und ohne Pamphlete.8 “Der edle Mensch fühlt sich berufen, edle Menschheit zu fördern.” This is the core of Steinschneider’s authentic credo. Noting in addition that Steinschneider himself was both a scholar of poetry and a musician,9 one can hardly help but see in this credo an allusion to the poem “Das Göttliche” by Goethe whose final lines are well worth our pondering. Der edle Mensch Sei hilfreich und gut! Unermüdet schaff er Das Nützliche, Rechte, Sei uns ein Vorbild Jener geahneten Wesen. Might one, in any event, single out another 19th-century scholar to whom those early lines so distinctly apply as they do to Steinschneider himself ?

7 Jewish Encyclopaedia, vol. XI, pp. 545–47. 8 Arab. Lit., p. 10: “The task of those who consider themselves called upon to lead [mankind’s] collectivity is to emphasize those elements held in common by the various circles of humanity: to point to the “single Father of us all”—to that which brings people together. The noble human being feels called upon to promote a noble humanity; he serves in the “army of salvation” without weapons, without tractates, without pamphlets.” (Translation D. Vowinckel-Golb and J. D. Golb.) 9 On this latter accomplishment of his, cf. Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography, p. 132. IV. MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER IN CONTEMPORARY RESEARCH 23. THE GENESIS OF DIE HEBRAEISCHEN ÜBERSETZUNGEN DES MITTELALTERS

Charles H. Manekin

The June 3, 1893, issue of the Berlin Deutsche Literaturzeitung carried the following announcement: In the upcoming days a rather large work is to appear under the auspices of the Commission of the Bibliographical Bureau (Kommission des Biblio- graphischen Bureaus). The table of contents covers two large quarto sides of an offprint that may be obtained gratis. The book itself will not be sent for reviewing, as only three hundred copies (retail price, 30 Marks) have been produced. Its author may be allowed to say something about the origin and the nature of the work. The work contains the German version of a French essay that was submitted to the 1884 Prize Competition of the Académie française for the best work on the Hebrew translations in the Middle Ages in their broadest dimensions, namely, including also the commentaries, compendia, etc., of the translations. The essay won the prize. The entire work in two volumes (over 1100 narrowly printed pages) is divided into a general or introductory part (encyclopedias, divisions of the sciences, introductions and guides for study), followed by five sections, namely philosophy, mathematics, medicine, miscellaneous, and “the Jews as transmitters.” Each section is divided into four chapters according to authors of the original works: Greeks, Arabs, Jews, Christians. The individual authors are arranged alphabetically. The research extends also to the original authors and the works that were translated, based on data culled from the best and newest sources. But the central endeavor is to attest and discuss the Hebrew translations, of which only an insignificant fraction is available in print, so that the work is mainly concerned with manuscripts, most of which have been examined directly or via communications from experts. The last of eight indices lists these manuscripts according to library. The work is preceded by General Remarks, from which only the following point may be highlighted: among the translations there are as many original works of Christian origin as those of all the aforementioned three rubrics [i.e., Greek, Arab, and Jewish authors] combined. The title designates the work, not unfittingly, as a contribution to the literary history of the Middle Ages. Berlin Moritz Steinschneider1

1 Deutsche Literaturzeitung 14 (1893): 695–6 ( In the present chapter, the translations from French and from German are by the present author, unless otherwise stated. 490 charles h. manekin

The eighty-seven-year-old Moritz (Moshe) Steinschneider had good reasons to wish to present his new book to the public in advance of its appearance. For one thing, he had published the volume privately at his own expense and under the auspices of a society headed by his son, Julius. The colossal size of a book on such a recondite topic would no doubt deter sales, especially if its value for ﬁelds other than Jewish literature was not recognized. For another, the size of the book seemed disproportionate to its topic, a judgment with which even Steinschneider would have agreed, had he intended to write a book solely, or even principally, about Jewish translators. The author’s comments notwithstanding, the book published in 1893 under the somewhat misleading title Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (“The Hebrew Translations of the Middle Ages and the Jews as Interpreters”) was not merely about the Jewish translators, but rather about the corpus of medieval Hebrew philosophical,

When the original passages are lengthy, or from relatively inaccessible material, they are cited in the notes.): In diesen Tagen erscheint in Kommission des Bibliographischen Bureaus ein grösseres Werk, dessen Inhaltsübersicht zwei grosse Quartseiten eines Sonderab- drucks einnimmt, welchen man gratis beziehen kann, während das Buch selbst zur Ansicht nicht versendet wird, indem nur 300 Exemplare (Ladenpreis 30 Md.) abgezogen worden. Es sei dem Verf. gestattet, etwas über die Entstehung und Beschaffenheit des Werkes mitzutheilen. Dasselbe enthält die deutsche Bearbeitung einer französischen Abhandlung, welche im Jahre 1884 die Preisaufgabe der Académie française über die Hebrä- ischen Uebersetzungen des Mittelalters, in erweitertem Umfange, nämlich auch die Kommentare, Kompendien etc. der Uebersetzungen einschliessend, beantwor- tete und mit Preise gekrönt wurde. Das ganze Werk in zwei Bänden (mehr als 1100 eng gedruckte Seiten) zerfällt in einen allgemeinen oder einleitenden Theil (Encyklopädien, Eintheilungen der Wissenschaften, Eintheilungen und Anleitun- gen zum Studium), dann in fünf Abschnitten, nämlich Philosophie, Mathematik, Medizin, Verschiedenes, Die Juden als Dolmetscher. Jeder Abschnitt zerfällt nach den Autoren der Originale in vier Kapitel: Griechen, Araber, Juden, Christen. Die einzelnen Autoren sind alphabetisch geordnet.—Die Forschung erstreckt sich auch auf die Verf. und Schriften, welche übersetzt worden, unter Angabe der besten und neusten Quellen; die Hauptsache besteht aber in der Nachweisung und Besprechung der hebräischen Uebersetzungen, von denen ein unbedeutender Bruchtheil in Druckwerken vorliegt, so dass es sich vorzugsweise um Handschriften handelt, welche grössentheils nach Autopsie oder Mittheilun- gen von Fachkennern einer eingehenden Prüfung unterzogen sind; das letzte von acht Registern zählt diese Hss. nach den Bibliotheken auf. Aus den, dem Werke vorangehenden allgemeinen Bemerkungen mag hier nur hervorgehoben werden, dass jene Uebersetzungen so viele Originale christlichen Ursprungs betreffen, als alle anderen oben genannten drei Rubriken zusammen. Der Titel bezeichnet wohl nicht unpassend das Werk als einen Beitrag zur Geschichte der Literatur des Mittelalters. Berlin. Moritz Steinschneider. the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 491 scientiﬁc, and even belle–lettristic works, what Steinschneider called in the French Mémoire that preceded the Hebraeische Übersetzungen the “international” literature of the Jews.2 This essay deals with the genesis of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen, a work that Steinschneider contemplated writing for many years, but that, over time, outgrew its initial conception. The work that emerged was not so much the book that Steinschneider had initially intended to write— a monograph on the Jewish translators, with reference to the Hebrew translations and commentaries of foreign originals—but rather a massive reference work for the history of “profane literature” in medieval Hebrew, indeed, a detailed and documented witness of that history, the like of which had never been seen before or was seen since.

The Early Conception of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen: 1845–1860

Steinschneider refers in several places in his writings to a prospectus that he had submitted in 1845 to the Berlin “Verein für Cultur und Wissenschaft der Juden” for a work, or works, that would include an essay on Jewish translators. These references are not entirely consistent: they speak either of a single work on the literature of the Middle Ages that was to include sections on the Arabic literature of the Jews, Jewish translators, and Jewish and Muslim polemical literature; or of a trilogy of three works covering the same subjects; or of two works, one on the Arabic literature of the Jews and the other on the Jewish translators.3 But whatever form the study of Jewish translators was intended to take, the focus was to be mainly, though not exclusively, on the Hebrew translations of Arabic texts. Steinschneider’s initial aim in this part of his project appears to have been twofold: to demonstrate the impact of Arabic literature on Hebrew literature, especially in the ﬁelds of philosophy, science, mathematics, and medicine, and to call attention to the existence of Arabic works extant in Hebrew translations. Achieving this aim would present a more accurate picture

2 Steinschneider, Les traductions hébraïques du moyen âge, Archives de l‘Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, Paris, shelf number 2 H 122 (henceforth: Mémoire), p. 5. The Avant-Propos was published by Dominique Bourel in “Les traductions hébraïques du Moyen Age. Un texte de Moritz Steinschneider,” Pardes ( Paris) 5 (1987): 117–22. 3 See Charles H. Manekin, “Steinschneider’s Die hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mit- telalters: From Reference Work to Digital Database,” Jewish Studies Quarterly 7 (2000): 141–59, esp. 144–7. 492 charles h. manekin not only of medieval Jewish literary culture but also of the impact of Hellenistic culture on both medieval Arabic and Jewish cultures. Steinschneider’s university education in Vienna, Leipzig, and Berlin (1836–41) had focused on classical and oriental languages and philology, a focus that was reflected in his scholarly writings of this early period, such as his collaboration with Franz Delitzsch on Etz Æayyim by Aaron ben Elijah of Nicomedia (1841), his uncompleted Hebrew translation of the Qur’an, his article on circumcision among the Arabs and Muslims (1846), his review of Salomon Munk’s Notice sur Joseph b. Jehouda (written in Prague, 1844), his articles on Arabic subjects for Pierer’s Universal-Lexikon (1839–43), among others. Little was known at the time of the extent of Hebrew translations from languages besides Arabic, or for that matter, the extent of Hebrew translations from any languages. Steinschneider’s earliest published references to the proposed study of Jewish translators are found in two footnotes to the comprehensive article on Jüdische Literatur that he wrote for the Ersch and Gruber encyclopedia in 1845–47. The first speaks of the appearance, “hopefully soon,” of “a comprehensive work about the entire Arabic literature of the Jews, and that [ literature of the Jews] which is translated from Arabic”;4 the second refers to an appreciation of the “character and significance of the translation literature” in the introduction to his Bibliotheca judaica-arabica, i.e., the work on the Arabic literature of the Jews.5 Here Steinschneider does not speak of a separate work on Jew- ish translators, but rather a treatment of the translation literature as part of his work on the Arabic literature of the Jews. This is confirmed by a description of that work in 1857 as “a monograph on Jewish literature in the Arabic language, and the translations from that and other languages in the Middle Ages.”6 Given that Steinschneider said that his model for his Bibliotheca judaica-arabica was Wüstenfeld’s Geschichte der arabischen Ärzte (1840), one may assume that his work would have been arranged like Wüstenfeld’s: a general introduction, which would have discussed, in addition to Arabic Jewish literature, the importance and character of its Jewish translators; a list of authors with biographical information; followed by their principal works; in turn followed by the Hebrew translations. When Steinschneider finally published a

4 JL/G, p. 384a, n. 3. 5 Ibid., p. 397b, n. 4. 6 JL/E, p. 267. the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 493 much-expanded Bibliotheca judaica-arabica over a half-century later as Die Arabische Literatur der Juden (1903), this was more or less the form that it took. However, there was no longer a need to devote a section to the Jewish translators or to the Hebrew translations, since these subjects had been covered several years earlier in the Hebraeische Übersetzungen. How did a proposed section on Jewish translators in a modestly- sized work on the relation of Arab-Jewish literatures expand exponentially, over the course of several decades, to become a gigantic work mainly on the philosophical and scientific literature of medieval Jews? Certainly, in 1845–47, when Steinschneider’s knowledge of Jewish literature was based on out-of-date, incomplete, and often inaccurate catalogues of manuscript collections, limited exposure to primary sources in print and a meager amount of reliable scholarship, he did not envision that subsequent research would lead him and others to discover so much new material. But in the decade following the publication of the encyclopedic entry Jüdische Literatur, Steinschneider catalogued the printed Judaica books of the Bodleian Library (1860), composed a conspectus of its manuscript collection (1857), and catalogued the Hebrew manuscripts of the Leiden library (1858). These catalogues offer detailed accounts of both works and authors. Stein- schneider also had visited the British Museum’s library and had prepared the catalogues of the private Michael and Saraval collections (the former ended up in Oxford; the latter at the Breslau seminary). The fruits of this decade-long research, and its implications for the study of Jewish translators and translations, are found already in the expanded English version of Jüdische Literatur, which appeared in 1857 as Jewish Literature from the Eighth to the Eighteenth Century. Here are a few examples of material on translations that were added in the English version of the original encyclopedia article (italics in the original): Manfred is said to have translated a pseudo-Aristotelian work, as it seems from the Hebrew. The intellectual intercourse between Jews and Chris- tians, in the countries where the language of literature (the Latin) was more accessible to the Jews, from its affinity with the vernacular, was far greater than the deficient state of inquiry into that very interesting subject might lead us to suppose . . .7 Besides their own literature of translations, &c., we are also indebted to the Jews for the preservation of various works in foreign languages

7 Ibid., p. 63. 494 charles h. manekin

written in Hebrew characters, amongst which the Arabic, from its affinity, takes of course the first place. The neglect of several valuable contributions to the general history of literature has arisen only from ignorance of the letters in which they were written; through this they have been misinterpreted, and foreign authors have been converted by bibliographers into Jews. Many works of the celebrated Averroes (§ 12.) in the genuine Arabic are preserved only in Hebrew MSS.; an Arabic lexicon in Hebrew characters, and older than the year 1380, is extant in the Escurial; but no one, as far as we know, even noticed it, at a period when every corner of the libraries was thoroughly examined by Arabic scholars. A Polish translation of the Psalms, written as early as 1510, is to be found at Parma; and at a later period even a Turkish work on Muhammedan sects was written in Hebrew characters, and has been recently discovered at Leyden by the author of the present treatise.8 Steinschneider also added to the original list of Christian Scholastics whose works were translated into Hebrew the names of Michael Sco- tus, Vincent of Beauvais, Petrus Hispanus (“whose compendium of logic has been translated several times”), Thomas Bricot, Augustine, Piccolomini, “and others.”9 As always, Steinschneider deemed knowledge of the translation literature important for an accurate picture of the works in the original language. To hammer home this point, he adds the following comment: We will here mention only two examples. The errors about Michael Scotus’ translation of the Liber Animalium, committed by Buhle and Schneider, might easily have been avoided if the Hebrew translation in the Oppenheim Collection had been known. Supposing the Hebrew title to be correct, this MS contains the Commentary of Averroes; to which neither Jourdain, nor Renan in his great work on Averroes, makes any allusion. Another Hebrew MS, now at Oxford, contains a work by Robert of Lincoln, De Anima (unknown to Tanner), in which Albertus Magnus is quoted. A complete answer to those who imagine all Jews in the Middle Ages, except the Arabians, to have been trades-people and privileged usurers is found in the prefatory remarks of Judah ben Moses of Rome (beginning of fourteenth century); who professes to have translated various short dissertations by several celebrated Christian authors in order to show his brethren that “the Christian nation is not destitute of all true science” as some of them believed. The Jews have never been entirely excluded from the scientific pursuits of their contemporaries,

8 Ibid., pp. 66–67. 9 Ibid., p. 95. Steinschneider found two of those translations among the Bodleian manuscripts. the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 495

except by force; the general ignorance respecting that part of the literature of the Middle Ages is shown by the fact that a Hebrew translation of a work by Thomas Aquinas has been recently introduced to the public as a great curiosity, and ascribed to a special motive of no value.10 Characteristically, Steinschneider begins the comment by emphasizing the signiﬁcance of the Hebrew translations for historians of Arabic and Scholastic philosophy, yet ends with noting their importance for historians of Jewish culture. He was not one to overemphasize or to exaggerate the Jewish concern with philosophy and science; rather, his main task was to describe, as accurately and objectively as he could, the nature and extent of this concern. This was perhaps one of the reasons why he postponed his study of the Jewish translators. The longer he waited, the more material he and others were discovering. Another reason for the expansion of the work on Jewish translators was Steinschneider’s decision to include not only translations, but also writings related to translations. The term that Steinschneider liked to use was “Bearbeitung,” which he rendered in French as “adaptation” and in English as “edition” or “version.”11 “Bearbeitungen” encompassed for him translations, explications, commentaries, supercommentaries, etc. of a given text. In this expansion he claimed to follow the examples of Wenrich and Flügel, and others.12 In 1842 Johann Wenrich published his De auctorum Graecorum versionibus et commentariis Syriacis, Arabicis, Armeniacis Persisque commentatio, one year after Gustav Flügel had published his Dissertatio de arabicis scriptorum graecorum interpretibus. Both essays answered the call of the Königliche Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen in 1830 to produce a collection “of the references to Syriac, Arabic, Armenian, and Persian translations of Greek authors, an accurate account of which we are lacking to this day”; both expanded the survey beyond translations—Flügel spoke of interpretes; Wenrich of versiones and commentarii, and the latter added an introduction about the background of the translation movement from Greek into Syriac, Arabic, Armenian, and Persian. Missing from both works was any reference to Hebrew translations. Three to four years after Wenrich and

10 Ibid., p. 96. The reference is to Adolph Jellinek’s Thomas von Aquino in der jüdischen Literatur (Leipzig: A.M. Colditz, 1853); cf. Steinschneider’s notice on Jellinek’s Marsilius ab Inghen (1859) in HB 2 (1859):76. 11 He actually mentions the word, among others, as being not easily rendered in English. See JL/E, p. vi. 12 Mémoire, p. 13. 496 charles h. manekin

Flügel had published their essays, and five years after Wüstenfeld had published his Geschichte der arabischen Ärzte, Steinschneider submitted his prospectus for his Bibliotheca judaica-arabica. The three earlier works played a part not only in his conception of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen, but also, perhaps, in his decision to write it. Like Wenrich and Flügel, Steinschneider devoted much of his work on translators to the Greek heritage. This may seem strange, since the Jewish translators lacked direct knowledge of Greek texts. In the thirteenth century, for example, Zerachiah b. Isaac translated part of Aristotle’s De anima into Hebrew, but from Isaq ibn Hunayn’s Arabic translation of his father’s Syriac translation; and another part from the translation of Isâ ibn Isâq (= ibn Zurah). This appears to have been the only complete Hebrew translation of the De anima in the Middle Ages, and had Steinschneider limited himself to translations in the strict sense, he would have concluded his section on the De anima there. But, in fact, he goes on to consider in the section on “Greek Authors” also the Hebrew versions of Averroes’ commentaries, and the Jewish commentaries on these commentaries. None of Aristotle’s logical writings was translated into Hebrew in the Middle Ages, either directly from the Greek, or indirectly from the Arabic or Latin translations. And yet Steinschneider devotes over sixty pages to Jewish writings on logic in the section on “Aristotle” because these writings are either in the form of commentaries on Averroes’ paraphrases of Aris- totle, or independent works, commentaries, and paraphrases inspired by Averroes’ paraphrases of Aristotle. The Hebrew translations and commentaries of Averroes’ Logical Questions appear under Aristotle’s logic, whereas the Hebrew translations and commentaries of Aver- roes’ Physical Questions appear in a section devoted to Quaestiones (but still under the philosophy of the Greeks, rather than of the Arabs). Yet this classification does make some sense, for medieval Jewish authors generally viewed Averroes’ commentaries on Aristotle, especially the paraphrastic Middle Commentaries, as essentially Aristotle’s works, and their references to Aristotle are usually via Averroes’ versions. The inclusion of Bearbeitungen within the scope of a work about Jewish translators still does not account for the massive difference in size between Steinschneider’s essay on the Hebrew translations and his predecessors’ essays on the Syriac, Arabic, Armenian, and Per- sian translations—especially since the latter translations include many more works. Wenrich and Flügel’s essays are essentially lists of authors and their works, based on the manuscript catalogues, the Renaissance the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 497 editions of the Latin translations, and some Renaissance translations of Arab historians. The subsequent publication of the works of Arabic and Turkish historiographers and bibliographers, as well as the editions of some original texts, added significantly to our knowledge of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement.13 When Steinschneider wrote a series of articles on the Arabic translations from Greek a half-century after Wenrich and Flügel, the picture of the translation movement in its general outlines was more or less complete. What was still often missing from that picture was knowledge based on the original texts. By contrast, Steinschneider based the Hebraeische Übersetzungen on first- hand knowledge of the Hebrew and Arabic manuscripts, and on information about the manuscripts that he had solicited from a network of informants throughout the libraries and private collections of Europe. His mastery of all areas of Jewish literature and bibliography, and his decision to delay the publication of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen until he had first published articles and books on aspects of Jewish science, filled the book with detailed knowledge and swelled it considerably beyond the initial plan for a book on the Jewish translators. If Steinschneider expanded the scope of the work by including “Bearbeitungen” in addition to “Übersetzungen,” he limited it by excluding the Hebrew translations of Jewish legal, liturgical, and exegetical writings. These belonged to what he termed the “national or religious” literature of the Jews. In the Avant-Propos to the Mémoire, he gives two reasons for this exclusion: First, most of these translations were taken from Judeo-Arabic works, and these would be discussed in his book on the Arabic literature of the Jews. Second, the “international literature of the Jews,” i.e., the philosophical and scientific, had been hitherto neglected. The scientific studies [of the Jews] were regarded somewhat like a necessary curiosity; and, as for translations, there were vague ideas about those that are connected to Arabic literature. It is only in our own day that translations made from Latin originals have been dug up, and it had been surprising to learn that in medical science the Jews made use,

13 See Dimitry Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture. The Graeco-Arabic Transla- tion Movement in Baghdad and Early Abbāsid Society (2nd–4th/8th–10th Centu- ries) (London: Routledge, 1998), pp. xviii–xix. Cf. Franz Rosenthal, “Steinschneider’s Contribution to the Study of Muslim Civilization,” Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research 27 (1958): 67–81. 498 charles h. manekin

at the same time and to the same degree, of Western sources as well as of Arabic ones. The fact is, one can prohibit the Jews anything but science.14 Here, too, Steinschneider signals that the work is primarily interested in the “profane literature” and not in the phenomenon of translation alone. More accurately, Steinschneider wished not only to describe the translations but also their impact in transforming medieval Jewish culture. To do this he had first to catalogue and describe the various Bearbeitungen, to lay out and characterize the data, as it were, and then to make general observations. This was what Steinschneider set out to do in his work on Jewish translators, and though the final work emerged merely a half-century after he had written his original prospectus, it is safe to say that the basic conception of the projected work was formulated much earlier. Steinschneider discovered during his work on the Bodleian and Leiden Catalogues that the data was much more considerable than he had thought. Sometime during the 1860s, if not earlier, the mass of material that he had gathered required that he separate the planned work into two: one on the Arabic literature of the Jews, and the other on the Jewish translators. In 1869, he wrote: For over twenty years I have been following the points of contact between Arabic and Jewish culture and literature with special attention, and I have been gathering, in particular, material for two partly inter- related works about the Arabic literature of the Jews and the Jewish translators. A section of the latter will include information about Arabic authors who were in some way accessible or known to the Jews, and their significance; this will also constitute an enrichment of Arabic literary history based on Hebrew and other sources that are rarely used by orientalists, and will throw light on the influence of oriental literature on the occidental.15

14 Mémoire, p. 6: “On considérait leurs études scientiﬁques plutôt comme une curi- osité nécessaire, quant aux traductions on avait une vague idée de celles qui concer- naient la littérature arabe. Ce n’est que de nos jours qu’on a exhumé les traductions faites sur les originaux latins, etc., et l’on fut surpris d’apprendre que pour les sciences médicales les Juifs apprenaient en même temps et au même degré des sources occidentale que des arabes. Le fait est, que l’on pouvait défendre aux Juifs tout—excepté la science.” (Translations from the Mémoire and from the Hebraeische Übersetzungen are taken from the forthcoming translation and revision of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen by Y. Tzvi Langermann, Hans Hinrich Biesterfeldt, and the present author.) 15 Steinschneider, Al-Farabi (Alpharabius), des arabischen Philosophen Leben und Schriften, Mémoires de l’Académie Imperiale des Sciences de St.-Petersbourg, T. 13, no. 4 (St. Petersburg: Buchdruckerei der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1869), p. vii: “Seit mehr als zwanzig Jahren verfolge ich die Berührungspunkte der arabischen the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 499

In fact, the material on the Arab authors was utilized in two works: ﬁrst the Hebraeische Übersetzungen, and then the Arabische Uebersetzungen aus dem Griechischen. But we are getting ahead of our story.

Collecting the Data for the Hebraeische Übersetzungen: 1845–1880

In the introduction to the Hebraeische Übersetzungen (1893), Steinsch- neider provides his own explanation for the delay in the composition of the work: With ever growing knowledge of the material, however, my hope to get a grasp on it sank. Having to direct the Jewish School for Girls (1869–90), to give lectures at the Veitel Heine Foundation (since 1859), to offer help at the Royal Library (since 1869), to edit the Hebräische Bibliographie (1859–82) and a supplement to Ben Jacob’s Thesaurus (since 1880, at present arriving at p. 460), and to see to the duties of a large family I had neither the time nor the exuberance to digest the immense material. No prospect of publication was acting as an incentive.16 This description presents the picture of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen as a work for which the material was collected over decades, a work waiting to be written, unlike the two other books that emerged out of the 1845 prospectus, the Polemische und apologetische Literatur in arabischer Sprache zwischen Muslimen, Christen, und Juden (1877) and the Arabische Literatur der Juden (1903). The Hebraeische Übersetzungen, by contrast, was composed—in some ways, compiled—from Steinschneider’s notes and essays from the period loosely following the completion of the Leiden and Bodleian catalogues, until he published it in 1893. Steinschneider was indeed busy with personal, professional, and intellectual pursuits during this period that were not immediately connected with his work on Jewish translators. But among the thousands of references found in the Hebraeische Übersetzungen, a large number are to Steinschneider’s own scholarship during this period, most of which he published

und jüdischen Cultur und Literatur mit besonderer Aufmerksamkeit und sammle namentlich das Material zu zwei, einander theilweise ergänzenden Werken über die arabische Literatur der Juden und die jüdischer Uebersetzer. Einen Abschnitt des letzteren bilden Nachrichten über die den Juden irgendwie zugänglich oder bekannt gewordenen arabischen Autoren und deren Bedeutung, zugleich eine Bereicherung der arabischen Literaturgeschichte aus den hebräischen und anderen, von Orienta- listen selten benutzten Quellen, so wie eine Beleuchtung des Einﬂusses der orientalischen Literatur auf die occidentalische.” 16 HÜ, p. X. 500 charles h. manekin

piecemeal in scholarly journals, and especially in the one he himself edited, Hebraeische Bibliographie. Steinschneider’s short comments and longer reviews in Hebraeische Bibliographie have already been mined by historians for their insights into the development of his views;17 they are especially important for his evaluation of the impact of his research on the historiography of Arabic and Latin philosophy and science. As each new monograph in those fields appeared, Steinschneider would check to see whether the author had taken into account his work on the Hebrew translation tradition. In the early years of Hebraeische Bibliographie, the journal had a section devoted to “General Literature” that listed scholarly books which Steinschneider thought had some Jewish connection. This gave the editor the opportunity to comment upon works like Adolf Helfferich’s Raymund Lull und die Anfänge der catalonischen Literatur (1858), Richard Gosche’s Ghazzali’s Leben und Werke (1859), and Daniel Bonifacius v. Haneberg’s essay on the Theology of Aristotle (1862). Stein- schneider informs us with pleasure that Raymund Lull is the first general work to benefit from progress made in Jewish academic scholarship (he notes each reference to his Jüdische Literatur), but that its author exaggerates when he claims that hundreds of Latin Scholastic works were translated into Hebrew: “May the history of Jewish translations remain free of such casual hypotheses and exaggerations!”18 His notice of Gosche’s Ghazzali is less complimentary because the author only occasionally refers to the scholarship on Hebrew tradition, with which he is familiar primarily through Munk; he is ignorant of the entry on Ghazzali in Steinschneider’s Bodleian Catalogue (p. 1000), not to mention the enormous amount of material in manuscripts.19 And in his review of Haneberg he bemoans the fact that even when authors wish to avail themselves of scholarship pertaining to the Hebrew tradition, they have difficulty finding the journals, “since Jewish Science is still

17 See Salo Baron, “Steinschneider’s Contributions to Historiography,” in Alexander Marx Jubilee Volume (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1950), pp. 83–148. 18 HB 2 (1859): 17–18, esp. p. 18: “Möchte doch die Geschichte, namentlich die jüdische, von solchen hingeworfenen Hypothesen und Uebertreibungen frei bleiben!” 19 Ibid., 86–87, esp. p. 87: “In unsrer, seit 15 Jahren gesammelten jüdisch– arabischen Bibliothek ist Gazzali ein grösseres Capitel gewidmet.” the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 501 not organically connected with universities and academies, and virtually nothing of it is represented in the libraries.”20 Steinschneider could have the satisfaction that some of his research into the Hebrew translators was being utilized by orientalists and historians of Scholastic philosophy: In the second edition of Averroès et l’Averroïsme (1861), Ernest Renan made use of his Leiden Catalogue, as well as the yet unpublished entry on Averroes from the Bodleian Cata- logue, provided to him by the Oxford orientalist Max Müller.21 On the whole, however, the Jewish translation movement was still widely unknown, and the larger phenomenon of translation and cultural transmission was little studied. Steinschneider’s duties as the editor of Hebraeische Bibliographie during the ﬁrst years of that journal left him little time to publish much else, certainly not a monograph on Jew- ish translators. At the end of 1865 he announced that the bimonthly bibliographical journal would cease publication, hoping that others would continue, perhaps on an annual basis. That hope proved fruit- less, and three years later, Hebraeische Bibliographie resumed publication, with Steinschneider as editor, and with a slightly different format. Yet the three-year hiatus had been beneﬁcial for the author and for his work on the translation project: Between 1866 and 1869, his ongoing inspection of Hebrew manuscript collections provided him with the materials for articles on Jewish and Arab physicians, scientists, and philosophers,22 culminating in his monograph Al-Farabi (Alpharabius), des arabischen Philosophen Leben und Schriften mit besonderer Rücksicht auf die Geschichte der griechischen Wissenschaft unter den Arabern; nebst Anhängen; Joh. Philoponus bei den Arabern, Darstellung der Philosophie Plato’s, Leben und Testa- ment des Aristoteles von Ptolemaeus; grösstentheils nach handschriftlichen Quellen (Alfarabi, the Life and Works of the Arab Philosopher, With Special Consideration of the History of Greek Science Among the Arabs, and with the Following Appendices: John Philoponus Among the Arabs,

20 HB 6 (1863): 107: “weil die jüdische Wissenschaft noch in keinem organischen Zusammenhang mit Universitäten und Akademien steht, und in den Bibliotheken fast nirgends vertreten ist.” 21 Renan, Averroès et l’averroïsme. 2e édition rev. et augmentée ( Paris: Michel Lévy Frères, 1861), p. i; cf. p. 67, where Steinschneider’s Latin style is pronounced “si obscur” that Renan is not sure whether he understands him. 22 See, e.g., “Hebräische Handschriften in München (K. Bibliothek) über arabische Philosophie,” Serapeum 28 (1867): 136–41, and “Wissenschaft und Charlatanerie unter den Arabern im 9. Jahrhundert, nach den hebräischen Quellen,” Archiv für pathologische Anatomie und Physiologie und für klinische Medicin 36–37 (1867): 57–86 and 351–410. 502 charles h. manekin

A Depiction of Plato’s Philosophy, and the Life and Testament of Aristotle by Ptolemy, Mostly Based on Manuscript Sources). Stein- schneider’s discovery of a Hebrew translation of a work whose author he determined to be Alfarabi led him to attempt to reconstruct the life and works of Alfarabi on the basis of a mosaic of Arabic, Hebrew and Latin sources. In such publications Steinschneider established the importance of the translation literature not only for orientalists, but for classicists as well.23 In 1870, Steinschneider published in the library-science journal Serapeum an article on translators from Arabic sources in the Christian West, the first of a promised series of articles. The article was said to be a by-product of his twenty-five years of research on medieval Jewish translators, their sources and their subsequent influence. As part of that research the scholar would frequently be led to investigate whether individual writings of the Arabs reached the Christian West through Jewish intermediaries or not. Though not pertaining to his main theme of the Jewish translations, these ancillary investigations raised questions whose resolution was desirable, and he had already demonstrated the fruits of his labor in articles on the earliest adapter of Arabic works, Constantine the African, and on the Jewish physician Shabbetai Donnolo. As for the main project, he writes, “and if I am now considering the publication of a monograph on the Jew- ish translators only with great trepidation, then my discouragement is due to the mass of unquestionably important material, and the hardly favorable time for publishing a voluminous bibliographical work.” In the meantime Steinschneider would offer the Serapeum readers a series of articles that would serve as “stimuli for an investigation into manuscripts and printed works inaccessible to me.”24 Unfortunately for his project, Serapeum ceased publication at the end of the year, and so the projected series did not materialize.

23 See, e.g., Ptolemy’s list of Aristotle’s works, reconstructed from the writings of Arab historiographers on the basis of MSS, and translated into Latin by Stein- schneider, in Aristotelis qui ferebantur librorum fragmenta: Scholiorum in Aristotelem supplemen- tum; Index Aristotelicus, Aristotelis Opera, ed. Prussian Royal Academy, vol. 5 ( Berlin: Reimer, 1870), pp. 1469–73. 24 “Uebersetzer aus dem Arabischen, ein Beitrag zur Bücherkunde des Mittelal- ters,” Serapeum 31 (1870): 289–98, 305–11, esp. p. 291: “und wenn ich jetzt nur sehr zaghaft an die Herausgabe einer Monographie über die jüdischen Uebersetzer denke; so liegt die Entmuthigung in der Masse des allerdings wichtigen Stoffes, und in der für ein umfangreiches bibliographisches Werk minder günstigen Zeit”; p. 292: “Anregun- gen zur Untersuchung von mir unzugänglichen Handschriften und Drucken.” the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 503

Despite his efforts to demonstrate the signiﬁcance of the translation movements for the literary and cultural history of the medievals, Stein- schneider’s specialized articles failed to win for them widespread recognition. Particularly galling to him was a short note published in the Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft by the Austrian orientalist Aloys Sprenger entitled, “Lateinische Uebersetzungen aus dem Arabischen in der Berner Stadtbibliothek.”25 Sprenger recommended as one of the tasks for Oriental Studies the investigation of the inﬂu- ence of Muslim Science on the West, by which he meant the Christian West. Several months later Steinschneider replied to Sprenger’s article with his own, entitled, pointedly, “Occidentalische Uebersetzungen aus dem Arabischen im Mittelalter.” After somewhat petulantly noting that “Herr Prof. Sprenger has recommended in this volume of the Zeitschrift, p. 154, a task for Oriental Studies for which I have been collecting materials for thirty years, and which I have announced in many journals, including the present one,”26 Steinschneider emphasized yet again the importance of the Latin translation literature for orientalists, supporting his point with many examples from his own investigations. But then he argued for the necessity of broadening the research on the European translation movements beyond the sphere of Latin to include Spanish, Greek and Hebrew texts. The latter would be especially desirable for him, since he had collected biographical and bibliographical material on approximately 120 named translators and commentators of Arabic works, in addition to anonymous writers, for a monograph about Jewish translators (and interpreters),27 especially from the Arabic. The projected monograph was based on hundreds of manuscripts personally inspected and, in part, on his Bodleian Cata- logue. Yet because of the sheer mass of material, and because few of the manuscripts had been described accurately, Steinschneider could not expect that the ZDMG would publish more than an occasional

25 ZDMG 28 (1874): 154–5. 26 ZDMG 28 (1874): 453–9, esp. p. 453: “Hr. Prof. Sprenger hat in diesem Bande d. Zeitschrift S. 154 eine Aufgabe der Orientalistik empfohlen, für welche ich seit 30 Jahren Materialen sammle und in verschiedenen Schriften, u.A. auch in dieser Zeit- schrift (1) bekannt gemacht habe.” In the note (1) Steinschneider provides references to five ZDMG volumes and to the Serapeum article cited above. 27 Steinschneider distinguishes between translators (Übersetzer) and interpreters (or transmitters) (Dolmetscher); the former translate in writing from one language to another; the latter translate orally, often via the vernacular, and in collaboration with non-Jews. 504 charles h. manekin article based on his work. And so he was left with a real problem: “The material has grown so large for me that at present I do not see how to publish my comprehensive work; nevertheless, I continue to work for a rather dubious future.”28 By 1874 the raw material for Steinschneider’s work on the Jew- ish translators had grown so vast that he was beginning to question whether it could ever be published. How could funding be obtained for such an enormous book on a recondite topic of interest to only a few? His previous books had consisted mainly of catalogues of books and manuscripts, funded by the collection owners. His Alfarabi was published in a series under the auspices of the Russian Imperial Acad- emy of Sciences, and his Jewish Literature from the Eighth to the Eight- eenth Century had long been out of print. Under these circumstances, and because of the many professional and familial demands pressing upon him, he decided to turn to another part of his 1845 program for the study of the literary and cultural relations between Jews and others: theological polemical literature. The resulting work, Polemische und apologetische Literatur in arabischer Sprache zwischen Muslimen, Christen und Juden (1877) was close to five hundred pages, by far the largest work he had published since the Bodleian Catalogue nearly 20 years before. But, as Steinschneider explains in the book’s Preface, much of the work had been composed years earlier. The first draft of Part One (Arabic Works) and Part Two (Authors) had been completed in 1845 and delivered for comments in 1863 to Prof. Hermann Brockhaus, editor of the ZDMG, and to Steinschneider’s teacher in Leipzig, Prof. Heinrich Leberecht Fleischer, at which time the author finished the first five appendices. As the publication was delayed, Steinschneider published in the ZDMG the second appendix in 1865 and the fourth appendix in 1874. It is probable that the work was accepted for publication by the Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft already in the early 1860s. For all its breadth, the work is essentially an extremely learned catalogue of works and authors, more a prolegomenon to a work on Jewish-Muslim polemics than a mature study. This appears to have been Steinschneider’s own judgment, for three years later, upon publishing a text and translation of Simeon Duran’s anti-Muslim

28 Ibid., p. 456: “Der Stoff ist mir selbst so angewachsen, dass ich für die materiel- len Mittel zu einer Veröffentlichung meiner weitausgreifenden Arbeit vorläuﬁg keinen Rath weiss, dennoch für eine sehr zweifelhafte Zukunft fortarbeite.” the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 505 polemic Qeshet u-magen, he noted that the earlier monograph had grown out of the notes on sources that he had collected for an introduction to Duran’s work.29 The orientalist Ignaz Goldziher (1850–1921), in a long essay in the ZDMG occasioned by the appearance of Stein- schneider’s monograph, supplied what was missing in that work—an analysis of the main topics of the Muslim polemic against Christians and Jews with illustrative examples.30 Still, Steinschneider did include substantive scholarly analysis in the appendices, especially in the last and longest one concerning Jewish polemics against Islam. In any event, completion of the “polemical” part of the 1845 prospectus in 1877 enabled Steinschneider to direct some of his energies to writing the work on Jewish translators. So daunting was that task that when he refers to his book on Jewish translators in 1880—by now the work had grown to include around two hundred Jewish translators, adapters, and commentators of non-Jewish writings—he remarks ironically: “Maybe I will decide to make multiple copies using a dupli- cating machine.”31

Attempts to Secure Funding, the Schleiden Pamphlet, and the French Mémoire (1877–1884)

According to Steinschneider’s own “ofﬁcial” account of the genesis of Hebraeische Übersetzungen cited above, the material for the publication lay undigested as late as 1880 because “no prospect of publication was acting as an incentive.” He continues: Then came the incentive from Paris. The Académie Française presented, in 1880, the subject for a prize competition to compile a complete bibliography of the medieval Hebrew translations. This I undertook, in 1884, in a French Mémoire, treating sections I–III, with a brief survey on section IV; similarly, in 1886, I undertook another bibliography, on the Arabic translations from Greek, on the basis of the Fihrist. However, one writes exactly the way one thinks only in one’s mother tongue, and therefore I decided to produce a German version of sections I–III, albeit

29 “Islam und Judenthum. Kritik des Islam von Simon Duran (1423),” Magazin für die Wissenschaft des Judenthums 7 (1880): 1–48. 30 “Ueber muhammedanische Polemik gegen Ahl al-kitâb,” ZDMG 32 (1878): 341–87. 31 “Islam und Judenthum,” p. 2: “Vielleicht entschliesse ich mich zu einer Verviel- fältigung durch den Polygraphen.” 506 charles h. manekin

on the basis of a literal translation that may excuse a number of awk- ward passages, perhaps also some small errors. Studies of the sources for section IV I made only immediately before the printing.32 Steinschneider implies that he made no efforts to secure funding for the book, or write up the material, before the unexpected announcement from Paris: it was in response to that announcement that he wrote a Mémoire of the book in French, presented it to the Académie, and then, having won the prize in 1884, set out to publish it in Ger- man and complete it, since “one writes exactly the way one thinks only in one’s mother tongue.” Yet a somewhat different account can be reconstructed from private letters to Steinschneider during these years. This reconstruction should be considered preliminary because his correspondence has not been completely examined, and tentative because very few of his own letters from this period are available. Whatever conclusions we wish to draw from the correspondence concerning his thoughts and actions at that time must be done mainly through the prism of his interlocutors.33 Thus, a letter to Steinschneider in late 1878 from his former student, the Australian-born historian and folklorist Joseph Jacobs (1854–1916), shows that Steinschneider had asked Jacobs to explore the possibility of helping him procure financial support for the publication of the work on translations. Jacob’s response was that he could personally guarantee the purchase of fifty copies of the “Uebersetzunges Litera- ture” (sic) at not more than £1 per copy, but that he could not do more than this.34 Around the same time Steinschneider floated the idea to Jacobs of publishing a new edition of his Jewish Literature from the Eighth to the Eighteenth Century. At first, Jacobs reacted enthusiastically, but his enthusiasm waned after he made inquiries with the publisher Trübner & Co., which published, among other things, orientalist literature (and was about to publish Michael Friedländer’s translation of Maimonides’s Guide of the Perplexed ): With regard to a possible second edition of your Jewish Literature I fear that it is impossible in the present depressed state of commerce to get

32 HÜ, p. X. 33 Much of the correspondence to Steinschneider is found at the Jewish Theological Seminary in the Steinschneider Archives, ARC 108. Most of it has been microﬁlmed. I would like to thank Ms. Ellen Kastel, the JTSA Archivist, for her guidance through the collection. 34 Jacobs to Steinschneider, received Oct. 10, 1878, JTSA ARC 108–5. the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 507

the guarantee (£150 = Rm 3000) which Trübner requires before he would bring it out. Besides, if Cassel’s Lehrbuch is to be translated into English, the need of the more scholarly work is not so great, as [the] English requires elementary manuals rather than great works of scholarship which could only be appreciated in Germany. Besides, the tone in which you spoke of a second edition led me to think that you prefer bringing out your Uebersetzungsliteratur. I can still hold to my promise to procure you 50 subscribers in England for it.35 As we shall see below, Steinschneider also tried to have a French version of Jewish Literature published at this time by the Alliance Israélite. Perhaps he thought that a new edition of his famous book, long out of print, would help raise money for the translation book. During the years 1878 and 1879 he was proactive in “marketing” his own books, pamphlets, and even offprints by advertising them in Hebraeische Bib- liographie; these advertisements ceased in 1880, after the French prize had been announced. But there may have been another, less pecuniary, reason for Stein- schneider’s wish to publish a new edition of Jewish Literature, one that also bears on the themes stressed in the Hebraeische Übersetzungen, and especially on the oft-cited passage of his Introduction, where he emphatically disavowed any apologetic motives for writing the book.36 It will be recalled that Jewish Literature included a brief treatment of the scientific-scholarly literature of the Jews during the Middle Ages. In fact, it was the only reliable treatment on that topic, and by 1877 the book was no longer available. But in 1876 an article appeared in Westermann’s Jahrbuch der Illustrirten Deutschen Monatshefte on “The Sig- nificance of the Jews for the Preservation and Revival of the Sciences in the Middle Ages.”37 Its author, the distinguished botanist, Matthias Schleiden, relates that he had been led by his study of the history of his field to discover, much to his surprise, that the Jews, throughout their history, had been active in various areas of intellectual pursuit. Schleiden was motivated to write his short survey of the Jewish contribution to human knowledge “to make some atonement for a part of the unspeakable wrongs perpetrated by Christians upon the Jews.” He declares his intention of following his essay with a historical survey of

35 Jacobs to Steinschneider, Sept. 12, 1879. 36 See HÜ, p. XXIV. 37 “Die Bedeutung der Juden für Erhaltung und Wiederbelebung der Wissenschaf- ten im Mittelalter,” JIDM 41 (1876–77): 52–60 and 156–69. 508 charles h. manekin the “Romance of Martyrdom among the Jews.” For some of his information on the Jewish contribution to the “Wissenschaften” Schleiden relied on communications from Heinrich Graetz and David Rosin (1823–1894) of the Breslau rabbinical seminary, whom he thanks in the Introduction.38 The timing of the publication of Schleiden’s article could hardly have been coincidental. In the late 1870s Germany had witnessed the rise of anti-Semitism, the growth of anti-Semitic political parties, and, from 1877 on, the Berlin Antisemitismusstreit. Schleiden’s philo- Semitic case for the Jewish contribution to civilization was immediately reprinted by the Deutsch-Israelitischer Gemeindebund in 1877 and went through four separate editions in the space of three years.39 In 1877, an authorized French translation was published by the Alli- ance Israélite Universelle, whose secretary, Isidore Loeb (1839–1892), was to play a major role in bringing into existence the French Mémoire, the predecessor of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen, as we shall see below. In 1883, an unauthorized English translation of the fourth German edition appeared in Baltimore, which elicited notices and reviews in the general, Jewish and Christian press, from the New York Herald Tribute to the Arkansas Democrat in Little Rock.40 And Schleiden’s work did not go unnoticed among the actual practitioners of the Wissenschaft des Judentums: David Kaufmann (1852–1899), while acknowledging the pamphlet’s weaknesses and errors, still argued that its publication was important for furthering the cause of Jewish scholarship, because it brought some of its results to a larger audience.41 Steinschneider disagreed with Kaufmann. In a blistering notice in his Hebraeische Bibliographie he lists some of Schleiden’s more bizarre claims

38 See the 3rd unaltered edition ( Leipzig: Baumgärten, 1877), pp. 4–5. See also, Ulrich Carpa, “Matthias Jakob Schleiden (1804–1881): The History of Jewish Inter- est in Science and the Methodology of Microscopic Botany,” Aleph: Historical Studies in Science and Judaism 3 (2003): 213–45, esp. p. 231. 39 See Ismar Schorsch, Jewish Reactions to German Anti-Semitism, 1870–1914 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972), pp. 43–44. 40 The Science Among the Jews Before and During the Middle Ages (Baltimore: Binswanger, 1883). The “Opinions of the Press” were contained in the copy belonging to Harry Friedenwald of Baltimore, now in the Edelstein History of Science Collection at the Jewish National Library, Jerusalem. 41 David Kaufmann, “Die Wissenschaft des Judenthums,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 55 (1890): 161–3, 173–4; reprint: vol. 1, pp. 1–13, of his Gesammelte Schriften, 3 vols., ed. Markus Brann (Frankfurt a.M.: J. Kauffmann, 1908). Cf. Schorsch, Jewish Reactions, p. 44. the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 509 on behalf of Jewish scientific achievements (e.g., Rabbi Gamaliel’s use of a telescope, Abu Sahl’s discovery of refraction, Johannes Hispalen- sis’ decimal computations, etc.), as well as some of his equally absurd characterizations of medieval Jewish thought (Hiwi al-Balkhi was an atheistic-rationalist critic of Scripture; the Zohar ranked freedom of thought higher than dogma and scripture, etc.). Steinschneider lam- basts Schleiden’s Jewish consultants, Rosin and Graetz, for not directing the well-meaning author to studies where he could have found information about the true significance of Jews in the profane sciences (i.e., studies by Steinschneider). What seems to have galled Stein- schneider most was Schleiden’s self-professed motive for undertaking the research: his desire to make atonement for Christian wrongs perpetrated against the Jews. On this Steinschneider writes: The greatest injustice of the Christians consisted and consists in that they have studied and study Judaism not for its own sake, but rather only on account of its relations to Christianity. Herr Schleiden defends Judaism, without having studied it at all. Jews do not need apologetic writings. [. . .] They suffered deeply for centuries on account of their convictions, until religious bickering was pushed into the background by the general progress of humanity. Now prejudice is garbed in racial schematism, whose vapidity will soon have been uncovered by serious science. The martyrdom of the science and the history of Judaism will last a long time because it counts both Jews and their ill-advised friends among its tormentors.42 Fifteen years later Steinschneider continued his criticism when a similar pamphlet on Jews and science, based partly on Schleiden’s essay, was printed in New York. Schleiden, writes Steinschneider, had composed a panegyric that was worthless for the knowledgeable and dangerous for the undiscriminating public, which feels satisfied by the pamphlet’s positive view and leaves the unimportant “details” to the “pedants.”

42 HB 17 (1877): 34–35, esp. p. 35: “Das grösste Unrecht der Christen bestand und besteht aber darin, dass sie das Judenthum nicht um seiner selbst willen, sondern nur wegen seiner Beziehungen zum Christenthum studierten und studieren; Hr. Schleiden nimmt das Judenthum in Schutz, ohne es überhaupt studiert zu haben. Die Juden bedürfen der Schutzschriften nicht, und Sympathieen erwirbt man nur durch eigene Persönlichkeit. Sie haben durch Jahrhunderte für ihre Ueberzeugung hart gelitten, bis der allgemeine Fortschritt der Humanität die religiösen Zänkereien in den Hin- tergrund drängte. Das Vorurtheil kleidet sich jetzt in den Racenschematismus, dessen Hohlheit die Ernste Wissenschaft bald erkannt haben wird. Das Märtyrerthum der Wissenschaft and Geschichte des Judenthums wird lange dauern, denn es zählt seine Peiniger—unter den Juden selbst und deren übelberathenen Freunden.” 510 charles h. manekin

What Schleiden did not realize was that unless general claims flow from a more accurate awareness of the details, they become falsifications of history that are better condemned than praised.43 How the dizzying public success of Schleiden’s pamphlet affected Steinschneider’s own publication plans, if at all, is difficult to say. At the beginning of 1880, Steinschneider wrote to Isidore Loeb about the possibility of issuing a French translation of Jewish Literature. Did he write to Loeb because the Alliance Israélite had earlier sponsored Schleiden’s work? Loeb had sent Steinschneider a copy of the French version of Schleiden’s piece three years earlier, with an apology for the author’s mistakes, yet with the hope that it would do some good.44 In any event, Loeb’s verdict on a French version of Jewish Literature was not encouraging. The book seemed to him too dry and “algebraisch” for the French reader, who was not well-informed on the subject. The soon-to-be established Société des Études Juives would not publish a French version of Jewish Literature since, according to Loeb, it would not be willing to sponsor translations.45 Steinschneider apparently dropped the plan, although he had not given up the idea of a second, enlarged edition.46 Three weeks later Steinschneider received a letter from David Kauf- mann that included the following somewhat cryptic lines. Concerning the “Translators”—I have written immediately to Löb in my own name. We need bones; let others take care of the soup. A Schleiden may, and can, come only after you.47

43 “Die Juden und die profanen Wissenschaften: eine Warnung,” Magazin für die Wissenschaft des Judenthums 20 (1893): 239–45. 44 Loeb to Steinschneider, rec. Aug. 17, 1877. JTSA ARC 108–6. The Loeb ﬁle contains typewritten transcriptions of letters, probably prepared for publication by Alexander Marx. Unfortunately, some of the originals are missing, as in this case. 45 Loeb to Steinschneider, Feb. 22, 1880. 46 According to G. A. Kohut’s “approved” bibliography of Steinschneider’s writings, published in the latter’s lifetime, a second revised and enlarged edition was in preparation (in 1893). Malter’s Hebrew translation of Jewish Literature follows the earlier versions. George Alexander Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Professor Dr. Moritz Steinschneider,” pp. v–xxxix, in Festschrift zum Achtzigsten Geburtstage Moritz Steinschneider’s (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1896), here p. vii. 47 Kaufmann to Steinschneider, March 12, 1880 (rec. March 14), JTSA ARC 108– 5: “Wegen der ‘Übersetzer’ habe ich gleich in meinem Namen an Löb geschrieben. Wir brauchen Knochen; die Suppe besorgen Andere. Erst nach Ihnen mag und kann ein Schleiden kommen.” The underlining may be by Steinschneider. This should be compared with Steinschneider’s remarks in HÜ, p. XXIV: “Ich lehne jede Verant- wortlichkeit für etwaige Auszüge und Verarbeitungen ab, welche meine Forschun- gen ‘popularisieren’ möchten; es giebt Gebiete, die nie volkstümlich werden, weil das the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 511

Unfortunately, the correspondence immediately preceding this letter is apparently not extant. Perhaps Steinschneider had confided in Kauf- mann his difficulties in raising the funds for the work, and his unsuccessful attempts in having Jewish Literature republished or translated into French. Or perhaps he had simply told Kaufmann of the new French society that would sponsor original and not translated works. In any event, both Schleiden and Loeb had been a topic of their correspondence, with Kaufmann encouraging Steinschneider to focus his energies on the translations project and not concern himself with popularizations, a task better left for others like Schleiden. Three days later Steinschneider heard from Loeb: Herr Kaufmann of Pest wrote me today about your work: the Jewish translators. Would you most kindly say what sort of work it is, i.e., how you will discuss this subject, how extensive the work is, or would be, when printed, how high would the printing expenses be? Perhaps we may be of some assistance.48 The “we” refers to the Comité of the Alliance Israélite, which had previously sponsored the translation of Schleiden’s pamphlet. A month later, on April 17, 1880, the Comité voted to allot five hundred francs immediately toward Steinschneider’s translation book. Loeb, realizing that this was insufficient, told Steinschneider that it was a “beginning” and that he would write to Kaufmann to see if the latter could find additional funding in Pest. Steinschneider then wrote to Loeb to determine whether the “beginning” referred to the beginning of assistance from the Alliance. To this Loeb replied that the five hundred francs were intended as “une marque de sympathie et déférence,” but that would be all.49 Since Steinschneider does not acknowledge the Alli- ance’s support anywhere in the Hebraeische Übersetzungen, it is unlikely that he received the subvention, because of subsequent events.

Verständnis eine gewisse Vorbildung, das Interesse dafur eine besondere Geistesrich- tung voraussetzt: dazu gehört ein Teil der Literaturgeschichte: was man dem ‘Volke’ vorsetzt, ist oft magerer Knochen mit Aufguss von Wasser” (emphasis added) [“lean bone doused with water”]. 48 Loeb to Steinschneider, March 15, 1880 (rec. March 17): “Herr Kaufmann aus Pesth schreibt mir heute über Ihr Werk: die jüd. Übersetzer. Wollen Sie mir gütigst sagen welches Werk es ist d. h. auf welche Art haben Sie diesen Gegenstand behandelt, welchen Umfanges ist das Werk oder würde es sein, wenn gedruckt, wie hoch würden die Ausgaben des Druckes sein. Vielleicht können wir dabei behilﬂich sein.” 49 Loeb to Steinschneider, April 18, 1880 and July 4, 1880. 512 charles h. manekin

But Loeb’s assistance did not end there. A week after writing Stein- schneider, he informed Adolf Neubauer (1831/2–1907) of Stein- schneider’s intentions to write a work on Jewish translations. A bibliographer and orientalist, Neubauer was on good terms with Steinschneider, at least since 1877, when the two had become rec- onciled after a long literary feud. He was also a close friend of and collaborator with the orientalist Ernest Renan (1823–1892), a prominent member of the French Academy. Neubauer immediately took up Steinschneider’s cause, writing him a postscript under the heading “tres [sic] conﬁdentiel”: P. S. Yesterday I received a letter from M. Loeb in which he writes me that you will publish a book about translators; this work is highly important, and I place at your disposal all my documents concerning Arabic texts as well as translations that are available only in manuscript. Will you permit me to request a subvention from Günzburg and Rothschild in Paris when I am there in September? If you could decide to compose the work in French or Latin, the former being more practical for sales, I could perhaps arrange, through Renan and others, that the Ac.[adémie] des Inscriptions designate this work as the Prize Question of this summer, to be delivered at the end of 1881. [. . .] I am certain that you would receive the prize. Let me know the plan of your work so that I can clearly write to Renan how the prize [question] should be formulated. This is urgent, for the Commission on the prize meets already on May 15, and he needs time to discuss the matter with the colleagues.50 Neubauer was quite familiar with the Académie’s procedures, having himself won in 1867 the Prix Bordin, which had initially been proposed in 1863 by Salomon Munk (d. 1867), Neubauer’s scholarly patron from his time of residence in Paris after 1856, and by Renan,

50 Neubauer to Steinschneider, April 24, 1880 (rec. April 27; mislabeled 1878): “P. S. Gestern erhielt ich einen Brief von M.Loeb in welchem er mir schreibt, dass Sie ein Buch über Übersetzer herausgeben werden; die Arbeit ist höchst wichtig u. stelle ich Ihnen alle meine Documente zur Disposition sowohl über arabische Texte als auch Uebersetzungen die noch handschriftlich vorhanden sind. Erlauben Sie mir daß ich bei Günzburg u. Rothschild in Paris wenn ich im September da bin eine Subven- tion verlange? Wenn Sie sich entschließen könnten die Arbeit Französisch oder Latein zu machen, ersteres wäre praktischer auch für Verkauf, könnte ich vielleicht die Ac. des Inscription[s] durch Renan u. Andere veranlassen diese Arbeit als Preisfrage diesen Sommer zu stellen für Ende 1881 . . . Ich bin sicher daß Sie den Preis bekommen. Lassen Sie mich Ihren Plan der Arbeit kennen damit ich an Renan deutlich schreiben kann wie der Preis gestellt sein soll. Es hat aber Eile da die Commission der Preise sich schon am 15. Mai vereinigt u. er Zeit haben muß mit den Collegen über den Gegenstand zu sprechen.” the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 513 whom Neubauer probably met through Munk.51 Currently, Neubauer was laboring to submit his own essay for another prize: on October 19, 1877, a committee made up of Regnier, Renan, Defrémy, and Bréal had proposed the following topic for the Prix Ordinaire in Oriental Studies for 1880: “Classer et identifier, autant qu’il est possible, les noms géographiques de l’occident de l’Europe qu’on trouve dans les ouvrages rabbiniques depuis le Xe siècle jusqu’à la fin du XVe. Dresser une carte de l’Europe occidentale où tous ces noms soient placés, avec des signes de doute s’il y a lieu.”52 The competition was prolonged twice until Neubauer won it in April 1884.53 So it was natural that Neubauer would think of an academic prize as a way of obtaining money to subsidize the cost of publishing Steinschneider’s work, as well as to promote sales. Neubauer contacted Renan straightway and forwarded Renan’s favorable response a month later to Steinschneider: “The Prize Question is underway as you can see from R. [ Renan]’s letter [to me]. Please return it to me at your opportunity. I will write as soon as I hear anything.”54 From this point on Neubauer became Steinschneider’s “eyes and ears” in Paris, relaying him information that he gleaned from Renan and from the orientalist Joseph Deren- bourg (1811–1895) who, an Académie member like Renan, was in scholarly correspondence with Steinschneider. In the summer months of 1880 it was not a foregone conclusion that the year’s Prix Ordinaire would be designated for an essay on Hebrew translations. Derenbourg and Renan, as influential as they may have been, were only two votes; in theory, there could have been an extension of the previous question for another term. On October 10,

51 The work was published in 1868 as La Géographie du Talmud, and subjected to a devastating critique by J. Morgenstern, Die französische Académie und die “Geographie des Talmuds” ( Berlin: Druck von F. Schlesinger, 1870). The speculation that Neubauer met Renan through Munk is offered by Neubauer’s nephew, Adolf Büchler, whose unpublished biographical sketch is found in the Neubauer Archives at the Jewish National and University Library, JNUL Arc. 4o1595. The committee that decided the prize in favor of Neubauer (there was one other submission) was composed of Renaud, de Saulcy, Renan and Munk. See Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1867, 3 (1868): 6. 52 Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1877 5 (1878): 312. 53 Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1884 12 (1884): 186. The committee was composed of Derenbourg, Renan, Barbier de Meynard, and Oppert ( p. 6); his was the only submission (p. 4). 54 Neubauer to Steinschneider, May 22, 1880 (rec. May 26), JTSA ARC 108–8: “Die Preisfrage ist im Gange wie Sie aus dem Briefe R. ersehen können; ich bitte mir denselben zurückzuschicken bei Gelegenheit. Ich schreibe sobald ich etwas höre.” 514 charles h. manekin

Neubauer recommended that Steinschneider continue work on the project, for if this year’s prize essay were not on the Hebrew translations, he [ Neubauer] had been assured that that topic would be proposed after the following summer.55 In fact, five days later, at the meeting of the Académie, a committee composed of Adolph Regnier, Ernest Renan, Charles Defrémery and Joseph Derenbourg was formed to determine the Prix du Budget for the 1883 award; on October 29, the President of the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, Edmond Le Blant, announced at a closed meeting of Académie members that the assignment for the annual Prix du Budget was to write a preliminary Mémoire enumerating completely and systematically the medieval Hebrew translations of works of philosophy and science in Greek, Arabic, and even Latin.56 Two days later, Loeb wrote Stein- schneider in a postscript: “You probably know of Derenbourg’s intentions for your translators?”57 The official announcement of the prize came at the Académie’s public meeting on November 12, 1880. Unfortunately, there is no record of the correspondence between Steinschneider and Derenbourg for the years 1877–81; it may be that Steinschneider either destroyed or returned to their author sensitive communications that might have constituted for Derenbourg proof of a breach of confidentiality. From Loeb’s comment, and from his occasional service as an intermediary between Steinschneider and Deren- bourg, it seems that Loeb had discussed the matter of the Uebersetzer with Derenbourg around the same time that Neubauer had discussed it with Renan. However one divides the credit, Loeb, Neubauer, Renan and Derenbourg were all instrumental in getting the French Académie to choose a topic that was tailor-made for Steinschneider’s project; even the words “[ouvrages] même latins” in the Prize Ques- tion reflects Steinschneider’s oft-repeated point about the number of Hebrew translations of Christian authors. The announcement of the competition appeared in the Revue Critique d’histoire et de littérature of that year58 and the Journal des savants.59 Several months later Steinschneider himself drew attention to the competition in Hebraeische Bibliographie.60

55 Neubauer to Steinschneider, Oct. 10, 1880 (rec. Oct. 12). 56 See Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1880 8 (1881): 305, 308–9; see also G. Freu- denthal’s essay in this volume, esp. the Appendix, for a chronology of the events. 57 Loeb to Steinschneider, Oct. 31, 1880 (rec. Nov. 2): “Derenbourgs Vorhaben mit Ihren Übersetzer kennen Sie wohl?” 58 Revue Critique 10 (1880): 410. 59 Journal des Savants (1880): 716. 60 HB 20 (1880):137 (This appeared in early 1881). the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 515

The deadline for submitting the Hebrew translations essay was December 31, 1882. Steinschneider’s scholarly output for the years 1881 and 1882 shows a slight tapering off as he began to prepare the Mémoire. The most significant casualty of his old-new project was the abrupt cessation, without explanation, of Hebraeische Bibliographie. Toward the end of its run, the interval between the date on the journal and its actual publication date had progressively increased; Stein- schneider, who blamed the delays on the publisher Julius Benzian, had once before closed down the journal, but this time the closure was permanent. Steinschneider would continue to write notices and book reviews, but henceforth for the journals of others, including Das Archiv of his son, Julius. The Mémoire was, of course, to be composed in French, a language that Steinschneider certainly knew—as a young man working on the Bodleian catalogue, he initially preferred to correspond with the head librarian Bulkeley Bandinel in French rather than in English61—but in which he had rarely published. Apparently as a “trial run” he began to publish in late 1880 a series of French articles on medieval astronomy in Prince Baldassarre Boncompagni’s Italian journal devoted to the history of science, the Bullettino di Bibliografia e di Storia delle scienze matematiche et fisiche, although he had published several Italian articles previously in the same journal.62 When Steinschneider sent Loeb an offprint of one of these articles, the latter pronounced the French “très clair.”63 Reassured, Steinschneider submitted several months later an article in French on Paul de Bonnefoy to Loeb’s newly-founded journal, the Revue des études juives. Once again, Loeb’s initial reaction was encouraging: “Votre article est une très jolie chose que je suis très heureux d’avoir pour la Revue. Le français est bon. Je le repasserai avant de le donner à l’impression. Je vous enverrai l’épreuve.”64 But

61 See Arnold Paucker, “The Letters of Moritz Steinschneider to the Reverend Bandinel,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 11 (1966): 242–61, esp. 244. 62 For bibliographical details see Kohut, “Bibliography,” xxiii. Italian was one of the ﬁrst languages that Steinschneider learned, and as a young man he tutored students in Italian. See A. Marx, “Moritz Steinschneider,” in Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia: JPS, 1947), p. 114. 63 Loeb to Steinschneider, Sept. 30, 1881 (received Oct. 2), JTSA ARC 108–8. 64 Loeb to Steinschneider, Jan. 31, 1882 (rec. Feb. 2). Cf. Loeb’s editorial comments accompanying the revisions on Steinschneider’s next French article for REJ 9 (1882): 112–7: “Les questions des nos 3, 4, 5, ont principalement pour objet d’obtenir une rédaction qu’on puisse comprendre sans être obligé de recourir aux livres cités, chose très désagréable au lecteur français.” Loeb to Steinschneider, Aug. 10, 1882 (rec. Aug. 12). 516 charles h. manekin before the article could be published, Loeb had to send an additional set of proofs to Steinschneider for further revision: he now considered Steinschneider’s French to be too Germanic, cautioning that it had to be adapted for the French reader.65 One of the sections included by Steinschneider in the Mémoire was also intended, initially, to appear as an article in the Revue. Shortly before the prize question was publicly announced, Loeb suggested that he prepare a bio-bibliographical investigation of Levi b. Gershom, namely, a chronological arrangement of his work, a chronological table of his astronomical observations and something about his instrument, the Jacob staff. Steinschneider submitted the article in Ger- man, and Loeb himself took responsibility for the translation, sending the author the beginning of the French article during the summer of 1882. The article was supposed to appear in the Revue des études juives in 1883. Loeb took the liberty of expanding Steinschneider’s terse German, explaining to him that French required more words than German to be comprehensible; pronouns needed to be expanded into nouns; where an article would be sufﬁcient in German, an adjective or complement was required in French. If one removed the addition that he (Loeb) had been compelled to make, the result would not be French.66 Work on the translation of the article ceased abruptly when Loeb learned from Derenbourg and Neubauer that the premature publication of a part of the Mémoire would jeopardize Steinschneider’s chances of winning the prize;67 if the translation was not to appear in the Revue, then provisionally it could not be continued, since there was no money to pay the translator.68 Steinschneider, disappointed, inquired whether Derenbourg thought that it could appear anonymously. Loeb’s response was that in any event the journal had decided to accept fewer foreign articles; the mode of expression was so different that the journal’s readers found such articles incomprehensible; even the translators could not understand them.69 All was not lost, since

65 Loeb to Steinschneider, Aug. 14, 1882 (rec. Aug. 16), JTSA ARC 108–8. Loeb also complained that Steinschneider’s writing ﬁlled up the page and left no room for marginal editorial revisions. 66 Loeb to Steinschneider, June 26, 1882 (rec. June 28). 67 Loeb to Steinschneider, Oct. 23, 1882, JTSA ARC 108–8; the information is based on Marx’s typescript of the correspondence, rather than the actual letter, which does not appear in the microﬁlm (see above, n. 44). 68 Loeb to Steinschneider, Oct. 30, 1882 (rec. 30 Oct. 1882). 69 Loeb to Steinschneider, March 13, 1883 (rec. March 15). the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 517

Steinschneider incorporated Loeb’s translation almost verbatim in the French Mémoire, and a German translation (perhaps, the German original) appeared on pages 65–73 of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen.70 Neubauer was happy to provide Steinschneider with the more practical information and advice on the Prize Essay. When the Decem- ber 1882 deadline loomed for its submission, Neubauer assured him that the deadline was customarily extended for Mémoires undertaken by specialists. Neubauer would submit his own Mémoire in 1884 after two extensions, alongside of his friend, Steinschneider. After the 1882 deadline passed, Neubauer informed Steinschneider that he would have to wait until the end of 1884 to submit the Mémoire. But this created an unexpected problem—and opportunity—for Steinschneider. In October 1882, the Académie proposed another prize, the Prix Brunet, for a work on the Arabic translations from the Greek based on Ibn al Nadim’s Fihrist, which had recently been edited.71 It was Neubauer, then at Oxford working on the Index to his Bodleian Cat- alogue and checking manuscripts for Steinschneider, who informed Steinschneider not only of the Prix Brunet, but also that the question had been designed with Steinschneider in mind: You would do best to correspond with me, if you want to know anything about Paris. I draw your attention to the Prix Brunet (3000 Fr.) for 1884, which you could easily handle with your Mémoire. It has been deliberately designed for you (in conﬁdence). You only cannot refer from one Mémoire to the other, for both will have to be submitted at the same time. You will ﬁnd the Program in the Journal des Savants and later in the Comptes Rendus of the Académie des Inscriptions.72

70 Loeb’s translation, set in type for the REJ, appears in the Loeb correspondence in the Steinschneider Archives with the following title: “Les Commentaires de Lévi b. Gerson sur Averroës Traduit de l’Allemand.” On the title page is written, “Erste Revision eines nicht erschienenen Artikels für die R.É.J. aus dem Jahre 1883 I–III = H. Ueb. 65–73.” The ﬁrst three parts deal with Levi’s commentaries on Averroes’ commentaries on logic; the fourth part, with Levi’s commentaries on two of Averroes’ logical questions. This probably was meant to be the ﬁrst installment of a series of articles on Gersonides’ philosophical supercommentaries before Loeb abandoned it. The material was ultimately incorporated in the Hebraeische Übersetzungen. An appendix, from the Latin translation of the Book of the Correct Syllogism, appeared in the Monats- schrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judenthums 37 (1893): 127–8, among the Endno- ten to the Hebraeische Übersetzungen that were not incorporated within the book. 71 The edition by Gustav Flügel (1802–1870) was published posthumously in 1877, with the assistance of Rödiger and Müller. 72 Neubauer to Steinschneider, Jan. 13, 1883 (rec. Feb. 13), JTSA ARC 108–8: “Sie thun doch am besten mit mir zu correspondiren, wenn Sie über Paris etwas wissen wollen. Ich mache Sie aufmerksam auf den Prix Brunet (3000 Fr.) für 1884, den 518 charles h. manekin

One month later, Neubauer wrote Steinschneider that the Prix Brunet would be about “the Arabic translations from the Greek according to the Fihrist; that cannot give you much labor with the work you have in hand.”73 In fact, Steinschneider was nervous about the first competition, since no announcement of the extension had appeared in the Comptes Rendus by March 1883. (Neubauer assured him that the decision would indeed be postponed.) And as the December 1884 deadline loomed for both Mémoires, Steinschneider was faced with a dilemma: to submit the first Mémoire and hope for an extension on the second, or to submit them both together, and hope that the Académie would not take that amiss. After seeking advice from Derenbourg, and hearing nothing in return, he wrote to Neubauer, who responded on 27 November as follows: Dear Friend, It is fatal to correspond with Dernb; he places postcards and letters in his nightgown, or in a book, and forgets about them. I now wish to write only concerning business matters, since it seems that D. didn’t write you about it, as we had agreed. . . . 1. After making an inquiry in the Institut I can tell you that the prix Brunet (Fihrist) can be postponed; indeed, my and your friends told me that it would in fact be better if both Mémoires are not submitted at the same time. The atmosphere against Germans is still not the best, and it is feared that chauvinism will win out and [ its proponents] will rely especially on [matters of ] form. The Übersetzer for this year, then, and the Fihrist for the next. What do you think about this? In any event, it would be good if you were to write to D. about it; please don’t fail to do this. You can dictate this to your son, if writing is difficult for you; it is absolutely necessary. 2. It would be better if you send the thing [ i.e., the Mémoire] to Löb, and that he deliver the Mémoire to the Sécretariat; add an accompanying a letter with [your] name and a motto inside, and on the outside the

Sie mit Leichtigkeit mit Ihrem Memoire bearbeiten können. Es ist absichtlich für Sie geschehen (im Vertrauen); nur müssen Sie nicht von einem Memoire auf das andere verweisen, da beide zu gleicher Zeit eingeliefert werden müssen. Sie werden das Pro- gramm im Journal des Savants ﬁnden und später in den Comptes rendus de l’Ac. des Inscriptions.” See Comptes rendus des séances de l’année 1885 13 (1886): 9: “L’Académie adopte en outre, comme sujet du prix Brunet á décerner en 1885 la question suivante: ‘Relever sur le grand catalogue de bibliographie arabe intitulé Fihrist toutes les traductions d’ouvrages grecs en arabe. Critiquer ces données bibliographiques d’après les documents imprimés et manuscrits.’ Les mémoires devront être déposés au secrétariat de l’Institut le 31 décembre 1884.” See the Appendix to Gad Freudenthal’s paper in this volume. 73 Neubauer to Steinschneider, Feb. 9, 1883 (rec. Feb. 12), JTSA ARC 108–8. the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 519

motto only [ illegible] Mémoire. Follow my advice [ illegible] so that this or the Mémoire is in Löb’s hands by the 28th [December].74 Derenbourg finally responded to Steinschneider on December 13, but he could not answer Steinschneider’s questions whether another essay had been submitted for the prix Brunet (he did not know), or whether it would be problematic to submit two Mémoires at once (in principle, he said, it was allowed). He counseled him to send both his works (Arbeiten) to Loeb, who would submit them at the proper time. No doubt by this late date Steinschneider had already determined to submit only the first Mémoire by the end of 1884 and to wait to take his chances with the second. In the early months of 1885, Neubauer continued to leak confi- dential news to Steinschneider of the fate of both prizes. Thus, on March 23, six months before the decision concerning the first Mémoire was scheduled to be announced, Neubauer wrote Steinschneider that Renan had expressed regret that Steinschneider hadn’t sent at least the Preface to a Frenchman for stylistic revision; the form was inadequate and the text occasionally difficult to comprehend, but the content was worthy of the prize. From this Neubauer inferred that Steinschneider could count on the prize, but said so “in confidence—do not speak yet of it.”75 And five days later he wrote: Dear Friend, just a word in confidence. The entire Commission favors giving the prize to you, I now believe the matter is certain. Concerning

74 Neubauer to Steinschneider, Nov. 23, 1884 (rec. Nov. 27): “Lieber Freund, Mit Dernb. ist es fatal zu correspondiren, er steckt die Karten und Briefe in den Schlafrock oder in ein Buch und vergisst davon. Nun will ich nur geschäftliches schreiben, da wie es scheint D. Ihnen nicht geschrieben hat wie übereingekommen . . . 1. Nach Erkundigung im Institut kann ich Ihnen sagen, dass der prix Brunet ( Fihrist) aufgeschoben werden kann; ja, meine und Ihre Freunde sagten mir sogar, dass es besser wäre wenn die beiden Memoires nicht zusammen kommen. Die Stimmung gegen Deutsche ist noch nicht die beste und man fürchtet, dass der Chauvinismus den Sieg davon tragen kann und sich besonders auf Form stützen. Für dieses Jahr also die Übersetzer und für nächstes Jahr Fihrist. Was glauben Sie davon? Jedenfalls wäre es doch gut, wenn Sie an D. darüber schreiben, bitte versäumen Sie es nicht zu thun. Sie können ja Ihrem Sohne dictiren wenn Ihnen das Schreiben schwer ankommt; es ist absolut nothwendig. 2. Es wäre besser wenn Sie die Sache an Löb schicken und er am 30. Dec. das Memoire im Secrétariat abgibt; beiliegend ein Brief mit Namen und Motto inwendig, auswendig nur Motto und so auch auf . . . [51] Memoire. Folgen Sie darin meinem Rath, nur vor das oder die Memoire in Löbs Hände am 28. hin.” (The words in italics are partly illegible.) 75 Neubauer to Steinschneider, March 23, 1885 (rec. March 25). 520 charles h. manekin

the Fihrist, D. tells me that he will make a report saying that the [submitted] Mémoire is worth nothing, and that the Prize will not be given. You can continue to work, but the thing [ i.e., Mémoire] must then be revised, and transcribed by another hand than that of your first Mémoire. The members of the Commission marvel at the scholarship of your Mém[oire] (naturally without knowing your name, except for D. and Renan), but gripe about the 1500 pages to be read . . . I beg you תקלה to destroy all letters and cards that refer to the prizes because a or. . . .76 בחיינו for you will be Several months later Derenbourg advised Steinschneider that the prize had not yet been won, that he should submit his “Fihrist ” Mémoire to experts in French for stylistic revisions, and that it should be around 300 pages, since the members of the Committee had almost fainted when they saw the length of the first Mémoire.77 With the first Mémoire deposited at the end of 1884, Steinschneider continued to work on the “Fihrist ” Mémoire, which he deposited at the end of 1886. Here, in addition to serving as Steinschneider’s informant,78 Neubauer played an active role in the shaping of the Mémoire’s form and content. He suggested to Steinschneider how the work should be arranged, pleaded with him to reduce the number of references, offered suggestions on the French style and reviewed all parts of the manuscript. As the second Mémoire grew, and as parts of it were sent by Steinschneider to colleagues in the history of science field for review, Neubauer urged him to condense the manuscript and leave the expanded material for the published work. “For reading it should be at maximum 300 pages, mostly results without much discussion . . .

76 Neubauer to Steinschneider, March 28, 1885 (rec. March 30): “Lieber Freund, nur ein Wort im Vertrauen; die ganze Commission ist günstig Ihnen den Preis zu geben, ich glaube nun die Sache sicher. Was Fihrist betrifft, so sagt mir D. daß er den Bericht machen wird daß das Memoire nichts werth ist und der Preis nicht gegeben werden; Sie können also weiter arbeiten, aber die Sache muß dann durchgesehen werden und von einer anderen Hand als Ihr erstes Memoire abgeschrieben werden. Die Commissionsmitglieder bewundern die Gelehrsamkeit Ihres mem. (natürlich ohne den Namen zu wissen außer D. und Renan) aber beklagen sich über die 1500 S. die zu lesen sind . . . Alle Briefe und Karten die sich auf die Preise beziehen, bitte oder—.” Steinschneider בחיינו für Sie und mich sei es תקלה ich zu vernichten wegen underlined “alle Briefe und Karten”—but, fortunately for the historian, he did not heed Neubauer’s advice. 77 Derenbourg to Neubauer, June 21, 1885 (rec. June 23), JTSA ARC 108–8. 78 E.g., “The decision concerning the rejected Question [ i.e., the mémoire submitted by the French Orientalist Gustave Dugat; see G. Freudenthal’s essay in this volume] is not yet in the Comtes-rendus; it will apparently be in the next volume, if a decision is made.” Neubauer to Steinschneider, Feb. 10, 1886 (rec. Feb. 12). the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 521

Imagine, in view of the many prizes, if people always get 1500 pages to read?”79 At one point Neubauer recommended that the “Fihrist ” Mémoire be also sent to Loeb for French revision, which Steinschneider did. The formal announcement that he won the prize was made on 18 November 1887 by the president of the Académie.80 When the German version of the “Fihrist” Mémoire was finally published as Die Arabischen Uebersetzungen aus dem Griechischen, it did not appear as a single coherent work, like the Hebraeische Übersetzungen, but rather as a series of articles in different scholarly journals. The reason, according to George Kohut, was the high cost of publication.81 But there is evidence that Steinschneider had already decided that he would be unable to publish the second Mémoire as a single book even before he submitted it. In that same year, he published in German a long subsection on “Euclid among the Arabs,” originally intended for the Mémoire, but which he had omitted at Neubauer’s suggestion; it is unlikely that he would have done this had he planned to publish a single book. Part of the problem of publishing the second Mémoire as a separate monograph may have been that the formulation of the Prize question tied the Mémoire to the “Fihrist,” a requirement that Stein- schneider apparently found constraining for a general work on the Arabic translations from the Greek. Although the section on philosophy published later in German by Steinschneider closely follows the “Fihrist,” the sections on mathematics and medicine are independent bibliographical essays that use it as one source among many. Then there was the issue of Steinschneider’s advanced age, weakening eye- sight, and familiarity with the manuscript material. In any event, publication of the Arabische Uebersetzungen in specialist journals had two benefits for the Hebraeische Übersetzungen: Steinschneider used the articles to advertise the publication of the Hebraeische Übersetzun- gen, and the 3000 francs that he won for the Prix Brunet to help offset the printing costs of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen. When the Hebraeische Über- setzungen finally appeared in 1893, Joseph Derenbourg reported to the Académie, erroneously, that the work was a German translation of both

79 Ibid.: “aber für das Lesen dort sollen maximum 300 S. kommen, meisst Resultate ohne viel Discussion . . . Denken Sie sich bei den vielen Preisen, wenn die Leute immer 1500 S. zu lesen bekommen?” 80 For more details, see the Appendix to G. Freudenthal’s essay in this volume. 81 G. A. Kohut, “Bibliography,” pp. v–xxxix, esp. p. xi. 522 charles h. manekin

Mémoires.82 Indeed, Steinschneider had decided to include in the Hebraeis- che Übersetzungen much information about the Arabic translations from the Greek of works that were subsequently translated into Hebrew.83

From Les Traductions hébraïques to Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen

The Mémoire that Steinschneider, via Isidore Loeb, submitted to the Secrétariat of the Académie in December 1884 numbered exactly 1599 pages. After an Avant-Propos, table of contents, list of translators and commentators, and a preliminary section on general works (encyclopedias, works on divisions of sciences, and general manuals), the main body of the work is divided into three sections (philosophy, mathematics, and medicine), followed by a ﬁve-page Resumé of the fourth section that begins on p. 1594: “Several unforeseen circumstances prevented the author from elaborating the considerable materials that should have formed the fourth section. The principal subjects are poetry, Hebrew language, and superstition.” The manuscript ends abruptly on the last line of p. 1599; there is no internal indication that this is where the Mémoire ends, but it could not have continued much further, since the Resumé is the last item in the Table des Matières. The Mémoire has the appearance of a rush job; there are spaces left blank to be ﬁlled with the appropriate Hebrew or Arabic, and only a specimen of the footnotes are included, perhaps because Steinschneider ran out of time.84 On the other hand, the Table des Matières has more expansive descriptions than its highly condensed and abbreviated counterpart in the Hebraeische Übersetzungen.

82 Joseph Derenbourg’s report to the Académie (Feb. 5, 1984), printed in G. A. Kohut, “Steinschneideriana,” in Studies in Jewish Bibliography and Related Subjects in Mem- ory of Abraham Solomon Freidus (1867–1923) (New York: Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1929), p. 119. 83 In a letter to Steinschneider (rec. March 4, 1887), Neubauer asks whether Stein- schneider intended to wait on the publication of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen until he had heard of the result of the Fihrist competition. “Could you then combine the two? Arabic and Hebrew translations?” 84 It seems that Steinschneider intended to include all the footnotes but ran out of time, or was advised to give only a specimen; the entire text has superscripts indicating references, but the sixty pages of notes (the term “specimen” is writ large, and may be a later addition) reaches only to note 293 of the 297 notes that appear in the section on general works. the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 523

Steinschneider’s Avant-Propos to the Mémoire reflects the author’s intentions and goals at this stage of the work’s composition. The medieval Hebrew translations are important, he writes, because they a) preserve works no longer extant in the original, or—when the originals have survived—attest to early manuscripts; b) provide information about the amount and nature of scientific knowledge among medieval Jews; c) serve as a source for technical scientific terms in medieval Hebrew and in various vernaculars. Steinschneider initially intended to include a separate section for the original works and their authors, but the extent of the material had led him to disperse it throughout the book. (Of course, such a section would have made the second Mémoire redundant.) He does not tell us why he chose to arrange the material topically, but he had an important antecedent for a model: the Fihrist itself, which arranges its own “international literature” (Chapters seven and eight) into philosophy, mathematics (including astronomy), medicine, and belles-lettres. Neubauer, in his review of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen for the Jew- ish Quarterly Review, gave his own explanation why Steinschneider had arranged the work according to subjects, rather than according to translator. Certainly the latter arrangement would have proved “more convenient for those who look for biographies of authors, for literary history85 or for encyclopedic work.” But the arrangement according to subject was necessary because Steinschneider did not limit himself to the Hebrew translations, but gave a minute description of the originals from which the translations were made, complete with biographical and bibliographical data, and including not only translations but also commentaries, supercommentaries, and glosses—“and all these could only be made handy by the division into articles.”86 From the Avant Propos we also learn of plans not carried out and intentions left unfulfilled not only in the Mémoire but also in the Hebraeische Übersetzungen. Thus, in the Mémoire the author promises to publish his principal sources, e.g., the prefaces of the translators, some epigraphs, and specimens of translations, with the original text, in a series of appendices. That idea was apparently abandoned, because no such appendices appear in the Hebraeische Übersetzungen. Some of the relevant

85 On this point Neubauer appears to have anticipated G. Freudenthal; see his essay in this volume. 86 JQR 6 (1894): 146–51, esp. 147. 524 charles h. manekin material is contained in the body of the text or relegated to the footnotes and endnotes; others were published separately. Other material, especially in the prefaces, was printed in Renan and Neubauer’s Les écrivains juifs français du XIVe siècle, which appeared in the same year as Hebraeische Übersetzungen. Steinschneider also notes that before the Mémoire is printed it would need to undergo “une révision stylistique”:87 he clearly refers to the French version, but had obviously abandoned his intention to publish it. After depositing the second Mémoire late in 1886, and after hearing numerous criticisms of his French from Derenbourg, Renan, Loeb and Neubauer, Steinschneider’s six-year “affair” with the French language ended; never again would he write a scholarly work in French. In the Avant Propos Steinschneider also expresses the hope that the prize, if he wins it, will enable him to study personally the manuscript collections of several libraries. In fact, Steinschneider did not travel further to manuscript collections during this period, but depended instead upon other scholars’ answers to his queries. Of the latter he relied most upon Neubauer, who now became his “eyes” in some of Europe’s Hebrew manuscript collections. During the second half of the decade Neubauer was working on much of the same material as Steinschneider for Les écrivains juifs français, but, unlike him, the bachelor librarian from Oxford traveled extensively. From 1886 onward, Neubauer’s letters to Steinschneider read like the travelogue of an industrious research assistant who not only aids his supervisor in response to queries, but also takes his own initiative. A few examples: If I have a little time I will certainly see in the British Museum if there is anything new concerning translations; perhaps I can do this around the time of Pentecost in Cambridge.88 I ought to travel to Italy at the end of February or the beginning of for Italy? You שאלות March . . . Perhaps you have completed a list of 89.היום קצר ought to give up the school and concentrate

87 Mémoire, p. 20. 88 Neubauer to Steinschneider, rec. March 4, 1887: “Wenn ich einmal Zeit habe will ich doch im Br. Museum sehen ob hier etwas Neues an Übersetzungen ist; vielleicht thue ich es gegen Pﬁngsten in Cambridge.” 89 Neubauer to Steinschneider, July 25, 1888 (rec. Jul. 27): “Ich soll Ende Februar -für Ita שאלות oder Anf. März nach Italien . . . Vielleicht haben Sie eine Liste der ”.היום קצר lien fertig. Sie sollten doch die Schule aufgeben und sich conzentriren The following year Steinschneider tendered his resignation as principal of the Berlin the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 525

So to be sufﬁciently early, I’m sending you a portion of the answers, in-between your closely-spaced lines and on the accompanying page . . . Tomorrow I head for Turin; I don’t know whether I can examine everything for you, since people won’t be as accommodating there as they are here [in Paris], and I have a mass of MSS to examine for myself . . . Write me at Parma, [but] I ask you to send sheets only to Oxford.90 You presumably received from Parma my letters in which [are from Paris and Turin; enclosed is your sheet of קושיות answered ] your -of Aqui ס' הנפש paper for Florence and the beginning and end of the nas from MS Casanatense.91 I thought that your ﬁrst .שאלות Enclosed are the answers to your volume would end with philosophy, and the second would begin with mathematics? . . . It remains for me to send the translations of Gordon, Arnold, etc., and I will take these with me; in order to make things easier for me, I’ve asked you to provide me with a list of the Hebrew MSS which contain translations.92 Neubauer sent similar letters to Steinschneider up to the time of the publication of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen, which, as mentioned above, appeared in the same year as Les écrivains juifs francais.93 For this outstanding and unstinting assistance, Steinschneider rendered his deepest thanks and acknowledgement to Neubauer in the Vorwort of the

Jüdische Mädchen-Schule to devote his time to writing and research. See A. Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” in Jewish Studies in Memory of George A. Kohut, eds. Salo W. Baron and Alexander Marx (New York: Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1935), pp. 492–527. 90 Neubauer to Steinschneider, Nov. 23, 1888 (rec. Nov. 25): “Um noch früh genug zu sein schicke ich Ihnen einen Theil der Antworten, zwischen Ihren engen Zeilen und auf beiliegendem Blatt . . . Morgen nach Turin; ich weiss nicht, ob ich dort alles werde für Sie nachsehen können, denn dort wird man nicht so zuvorkommend sein wie hier, und ich habe eine Masse Hschr. für mich nachzusehen . . . Sie schreiben nach Parma. Bogen bitte ich nicht zu schicken, sondern nach Oxford.” 91 Neubauer to Steinschneider, Jan. 4, 1889 (rec. Jan. 7): “Meinen Brief worin Ihre Paris u. Turin haben Sie wohl aus Parma erhalten; beiliegend Ihren Zettel für קושיות ”.Hschr. Casanatense ס' הנפש Florenz und Anfang u. Ende aus Aquinas 92 Neubauer to Steinschneider, Aug. 21, 1889 (rec. Aug. 24): “Beiliegend die Beant- ,Ich glaubte dass Ihr I. Bd. mit der Phil. abschliessen wird .שאלות wortung Ihrer und II mit Mathem. anfangen? . . . Ich habe nur noch die Übersetzung des Gordon, Arnold etc. einzuschicken und die werde ich mit mir nehmen, und um mir die Sache zu erleichtern habe ich Sie gebeten mir die Listen der hebr. Hsch. anzugeben welche Übersetzungen enthalten.” ”.kommt, Sie mit Übers., ich mit Rabbins Fr גאולה Neubauer wrote: “Unsere 93 (At this time, he referred to his book as the 2nd vol. of Les rabbins français. It would eventually be called, Les écrivains juifs français etc.) 526 charles h. manekin

Hebraeische Übersetzungen.94 Neubauer, for his part, could not refrain from referring obliquely to his own contribution in his review of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen.95 Despite Steinschneider’s intentions to revise signiﬁcantly the Mémoire for publication, roughly eighty percent of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen is a literal translation of the Mémoire, plus notes. The other twenty percent include the fourth and ﬁfth sections, the endnotes, and the indices.96 The work was published by the Kommissionsverlag des Bibliographi- schen Bureaus in Berlin in 1893 and printed by H. Jtzkowski in three hundred copies. Steinschneider’s own copy, which contains many marginal glosses and emendations, is now in the Steinschneider Col- lection of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America.97 The work garnered a handful of reviews in learned journals by A. Neubauer, I. Lévi,98 and M. Gaster,99 but none appeared in Ger- many. Steinschneider emphasized repeatedly the importance of the Hebrew translation literature for understanding classical and medieval literature in general; the subtitle of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen called

94 See HÜ, p. XI. “Dr. Ad. Neubauer has contributed to my work more than all those mentioned above: his are accounts on a great number of Paris MSS. which have been described here more correctly and accurately than in the catalogue which is partly insufficient. To him I also owe information on the MSS. of Baron von Günzburg, on some material in Italian libraries, and from MSS. in the Bodleian library, where my own older excerpts presented lacunae or raised doubts, or where new acquisitions were concerned. He also forwarded a number of kind communications, concerning Latin MSS., of M. Omont at the Bibliothèque Nationale and of the Rev. Macray in Oxford.” 95 See JQR 6 (1894): 147: “Happily, some friends who visit libraries of various countries from time to time, as well as owners of private collections, willingly assisted our painstaking and deserving author.” 96 Steinschneider’s completion dates for the various sections of HÜ are as follows. Section One (Philosophy, preceded by Encyclopedias, Classifications of the Sciences, and Primers): Greeks: Jan. 1889, Arabs, Jews and Christians: July 1889; Section Two (Mathematics): Jan. 1890. Section Three (Medicine): July 1891, through p. 836; Sections Four and Five (Miscellaneous and Jewish Translators): Oct. 1892; Preface: Nov. 1892; Additions and Corrigenda: May 1893. Endnotes and (nine) Indices: May 1893. 97 I inspected it on microfilm at the Institute for Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts of the Jewish National Library, F 24421. See Lawrence V. Berman, A Reel Guide to the Steinschneider Collection (Ann Arbor, MI: University Microfilms, 1975), no. 50. 98 REJ 28 (1894): 309–11. Lévi’s lavish praise was tempered by the following acute reservations: “il serait loisible de critiquer l’abus des points d’exclamation ironiques motivés pas des vétilles, l’âpreté de la censure et le manque de légerté dans la distribution des reproches, l’excès des références oiseuses, qui révèlent le travers du bibliographe vidant ses cartes de fiches.” 99 Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1894): 186–8. the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 527 it “a contribution to the literary history of the Middle Ages.” Yet the work has pretty much remained to this day the possession of a few specialists in the field of the history of Hebrew science and philosophy. The first run of copies was also the last; no further printing was made until 1956, when a photo-offset reproduction by the Akademis- che Druck- und Verlagsanstalt, Graz, appeared.

Conclusion

For over a century the Hebraeische Übersetzungen has been the authoritative account of the transmission and development of Western culture, especially science, to the Jews of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Its author maintained that it is a book not to be read continuously but rather to be consulted repeatedly, and generations of scholars have agreed. The decades after its completion saw relatively little progress in the field of medieval Hebrew science and Hebrew translation literature. Almost everything written in these areas was based on the Hebraei- sche Übersetzungen, or on its author’s preceding studies. The American historian of science George Sarton referred to Steinschneider’s studies so often in his Introduction to the History of Science that he considered it pointless to list his name in the index.100 Two lengthy articles in Eng- lish on medieval Hebrew translations, one published as late as 1973, were essentially abridgements of Steinschneider’s work.101 The last decades have witnessed a renaissance in scholarship in the fields of the history, philology, and even sociology of medieval Hebrew science and philosophy. Scholars in Europe, Israel, and the U.S. are studying texts which, in many cases, have not been touched since Steinschneider made his notes over a century ago. The single most important advance has been made in the accessibility of the data, i.e., the manuscripts themselves. Whereas scholars once had to travel throughout Europe to inspect Hebrew manuscripts, now they can read microfilms of those manuscripts in one central location, the Institute for Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts, at the Jewish National Library

100 G. Sarton, Introduction to the History of Science, I ( Baltimore: Williams and Wilkins Company, 1927), p. 785. Sarton treated Tannery, Cantor and Duhem similarly. 101 See Edwyn Bevan and Charles Singer, eds., The Legacy of Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1927), pp. 173–314, and Abraham Halkin’s article in the Encyclopedia Judaica, s.v. “Translation and Translators (Medieval)” (vol. 15: 1318–29). 528 charles h. manekin in Jerusalem. And already many of the manuscripts are being digitized and made available via the Internet. Despite these developments, the Hebraeische Übersetzungen is and will remain the standard reference work for some time to come, especially now that several scholars are working on a translation, revision, and update of the work that will hopefully be available in print and on the web.102 Steinschneider concludes the introductory section of the Hebraeische Übersetzungen with a comment on the “Tendenz” of the work. So I would like to conclude this article with a comment on the “Tendenz” of his scholarly achievement in the Hebraeische Übersetzungen. It is often said that one of his goals in writing it was to emphasize the contribution of the Jews to Western civilization.103 Derenbourg, in his aforementioned report to the Académie, implies that Steinschneider’s work on the Hebrew translations was born of a desire to demonstrate to the scholarly world the importance of the role of the Jews in transmitting knowledge from the East to the West. Solomon Schechter even referred to the Mathematik bei den Juden by the title “The Contribution of the Jews to Mathematics”!104 Yet, while there is no doubt that Steinsch- neider wanted to correct, or rather, to establish accurately the historical record, and while it is also true that scholarly ignorance of Jewish literature, as well as anti-Jewish prejudice, irritated him greatly, he certainly had no apologetic motives in writing the Hebraeische Übersetzungen. Steinschneider, an ordained rabbi and a committed Jew, detested any nationalist or religious considerations in scholarship. He dismissed the idea that the Hebraeische Übersetzungen could be placed in the service of the struggle for Jewish emancipation and equal rights, and he upheld the cause of objective scholarship with the memorable phrase: “Ich schreibe über Juden, aber nicht für sie, nicht pro domo.”105 Although the Jewish contribution to Western civilization interested Steinschneider the scholar, the contribution of Western civilization to the Jews and Judaism or, to recall his more precise formulation, the inﬂuence of foreign literatures on Jewish literature interested him more. In pointing

102 For a preliminary description of the project, see Manekin, “Steinschneider’s Die hebraeischen Übersetzungen” (n. 3 above). 103 See the essay by Paul Fenton in this volume. 104 S. Schechter, “Moritz Steinschneider,” in Seminary Addresses and Other Papers ( New York: Burning Bush Press, 1959), pp. 119–24. 105 HÜ, p. XXIV. He is not, however, above making statements reﬂecting Jewish pride, as this one, on p. XXIII: “Ein hoher Ritter durfte sich rühmen, nicht lesen und ”.(עם הארץ) schreiben zu können: der jüdische Illiterat gehörte zum Pöbel the genesis of HEBRAEISCHE ÜBERSETZUNGEN 529 out that more Christian than Muslim (Arab) authors were translated into Hebrew, he remarked: “Für den Geist, giebt es kein Ghetto.”106 The growing impact of Scholastic philosophy, science, and medicine on Jews in the fourteenth and ﬁfteenth centuries—at a time when Christian persecution and discrimination against Jews in Spain and in Italy had increased—is but one example of the aptness of Stein- schneider’s remark.

106 Ibid., p. XXII. 24. GENIZAT GERMANIA. A PROJECTED COMPREHENSIVE ELECTRONIC CATALOGUE OF HEBREW FRAGMENTS EXTRACTED FROM BINDINGS OF BOOKS OR ARCHIVAL FILES IN GERMAN LIBRARIES AND ARCHIVES

Elisabeth Hollender and Andreas Lehnardt

Introduction: How Genizat Germania Came to Be

The recent project on Hebrew fragments from bindings of books and archival ﬁles in Germany started with a grubby old book found by chance when opening a box full of ﬁlthy rubbish. Originally in the erstwhile Jewish library of the Jewish community of Mainz, rescued in the Holocaust and now on loan to the Johannes Gutenberg University in Mainz,1 this Jewish book turned out to have been wrapped in a parchment of a Mazor, a prayer book for high feast days, with a hymn by a Palestinian poet from Late Antiquity. The old book was a mystical commentary on the Torah, Sefer Tzror ha-Mor,2 by the Kabbalist Avraham Ibn Sava; according to a note that book once belonged to Johann Andreas Eisenmenger (1654–1704), the forerunner of modern anti-Semitism, an erudite Hebraist who owned a large library. Under unknown circumstances, the volume found in Mainz was wrapped in a Jewish manuscript and later came into the possession of a well-known family of rabbis and parnasim in Mainz.3

1 See on this library Andreas Lehnardt, Die jüdische Bibliothek in Mainz 1938–2008. Eine Dokumentation (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2009). 2 Venice: Daniel Bomberg, 1523. 3 An image from one side of this fragment, a page from an Ashkenazic Mazor, was published by Andreas Lehnardt, “Hebräische und aramäische Einbandfragmente in Mainz und Trier—Zwischenbericht eines Forschungsprojekts,” in: Andrea Rapp, Michael Embach (eds.), Rekonstruktion und Erschließung mittelalterlicher Bibliotheken: Neue Formen der Handschriftenerschließung und der Handschriftenpräsentation (Berlin: Akademie Ver- lag, 2007): 63; see also Andreas Lehnardt, “Eine deutsche Geniza—Hebräische und aramäische Einbandfragmente in Mainz und Trier,” Natur und Geist. Forschungsmagazin der Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz 23:2 (2007): 25–28; idem, “Genizat Germania— Ein Projekt zur Erschließung hebräischer und aramäischer Einbandfragmente in deutschen Archiven und Bibliotheken,” Einband-Forschung. Informationsblatt des Arbeitskreises für die Erfassung, Erschließung und Erhaltung historischer Bucheinbände (AEB) 21 (2007): 17–24. 532 elisabeth hollender and andreas lehnardt

This unexpected discovery drew A. Lehnardt’s attention to the fact that similar ﬁndings had been made in the past in other libraries and archives, not only in Mainz but all over Germany, too. Thus “Pan- dora’s box” was opened—the next “genizah,” a repository, a veritable treasure chamber, for used and old Hebrew manuscripts.4 Since then—2004—hundreds of new fragments have been discovered and identiﬁed, among them rare and important leaves from medieval Jew- ish manuscripts.5 The reasons why Hebrew manuscripts and manuscripts in other languages were reused by bookbinders are manifold. First one has to consider the possibility that many manuscripts were robbed from Jews who had been expelled from cities or territories. A short and already often cited passage in the Megillat Vinz, dating back to the seventeenth- century Fettmilch pogrom in Frankfurt am Main, explicitly mentions that Hebrew books were stolen by Christians and sold to the bookbinders of that city.6 Recently, a record of the bills of these sales was discovered and also the municipal deeds concerning the incident were published.7 The documents clearly show that parchments—especially Jewish ones—were very rare and expensive. Selling such precious com- modities was good business. Earlier accounts from the Middle Ages report that Jews were forced to leave their property behind, including books and manuscripts, when they were driven out by force. Other explanations might be found in the Jewish custom of burying or hiding used and old manuscripts in a storeroom or genizah, near or within a synagogue. In the event of a synagogue being abandoned or left open because a community became too small, such storerooms would be opened by bookbinders, becoming a welcome supply of material for their tasks. It must also be taken into consideration, and this was recently emphasized by Simha Emanuel, that by the end of the sixteenth century

4 The name of our project has been borrowed from its Italian forerunner, the much greater and apparently [?] larger enterprise south of the Alps. See below. 5 See, e.g., Andreas Lehnardt, “Ein neues Einbandfragment des Midrasch Tanchuma in der Stadtbibliothek Mainz,” Judaica. Beiträge zum Verstehen des Judentums 63 (2007): 344–356. 6 See on this Andreas Lehnardt, “ ‘Einem Buchbinder verkauft zu schertz, andere Bücher drein zu binden.’ Hebräische und aramäische Einbandfragmente aus Frank- furt am Main,” Frankfurter Judaistische Beiträge 28–29 (2007–2008): 1–27. 7 Cf. Dietrich Andernacht, Regesten zur Geschichte der Juden in der Reichsstadt Frankfurt am Main von 1520–1616 (Forschungen zur Geschichte der Juden, Abteilung B: Quellen, vol. 2, 1–2) (Hannover: Verlag Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 2007). GENIZAT GERMANIA 533 manuscripts were slowly becoming less important to Jews,8 as book printing became more accepted. In the seventeenth century, Joseph Yuspa Hahn (1570–1637), a renowned rabbi from Frankfurt, warned in his writings not to use Hebrew parchments for bookbindings. If it did inadvertently happen, however, that a non-Jewish bookbinder had misused a Jewish manuscript, it should immediately be re-purchased and redeemed from Gentile hands.9 We can already learn this from Sefer Æasidim, the Book of the Pious, allegedly written by Yehudah he-asid of Regensburg (1140–1217) and first published in Bologna in 1538. The selling of Jewish books to Gentiles was restricted and generally avoided.10 Nevertheless, Jewish manuscripts and printed works do seem to have been sold to non-Jewish traders. Other manuscripts might have found their way directly to libraries or archives where they were reused as binding material. All in all, it has to be borne in mind that the same happened to Christian books and manuscripts. As we can learn from many archives and libraries, for example in Mainz or Trier, most of the parchment re-used as binding material was Christian in origin, meaning that they were originally the manuscripts of lectionaries, mis- sals, breviaries, etc. It is therefore not surprising that we can even find Christian manuscripts in Jewish book bindings.11 Evidently, bookbinders—Christian and Jewish—were not very choosy, utilizing what they could find on their markets. Until paper was introduced as a mass product, parchment was the most common binding material. The so-called Carolingian binding structure, in particular, which preserved its basic functions for hundreds of years, was

8 Simha Emanuel, “The European Genizah and its Contribution to Jewish Stud- ies,” Henoch 19 (1997): 313–340. 9 Cf. Yosef Yuspa Hahn Nordlingen, Yosef Ometz kolel dinim u-minhagim le-khol yemot ha-shana u-frotrot minhage Frankfurt {al nahar Mayn (Frankfurt am Main: Hermon, 1928, repr. Jerusalem, 1965): 275–276 (for a translation of this passage see Emanuel, “The European Genizah,” 318). 10 Cf. Buch der Frommen nach der Rezension in Cod. de Rossi No. 1133, ed. Jehuda Wisti- netzki (Frankfurt am Main: Wahrmann Verlag, 1891, repr. Jerusalem, 1998): 179 (Heb.). See on this also Carsten Wilke, “Les degrés de la saintité des livres,” in: Colette Sirat et al. (eds.), La conception du livre chez les Piétistes Ashkenazes au moyen age (Geneva: Drez, 1996): 37–63. 11 Cf., e.g., Andreas Lehnardt, Die Kasseler Talmudfragmente (Schriftenreihe der Uni- versitätsbibliothek Kassel Landesbibliothek und Murhardsche Bibliothek der Stadt Kassel 9) (Kassel: University Press, 2007): 35–37. Fragments from a Latin Breviarum were found in the bindings of several volumes of an edition of Galenus Opera containing folios from a Sephardic manuscript of the Talmud Bavli. 534 elisabeth hollender and andreas lehnardt based on the use of parchment as the most appropriate binding substance—at least in Central Europe.12 However, all these assumptions need to be clarified after a more thorough survey of all the relevant findings in Europe. In the meantime, we cannot draw any final conclusions yet. Perhaps the phenomenon has to be explained individu- ally, from case to case. Obviously, in rare cases only—like the one mentioned above—it would seem that bookbinders did use Hebrew manuscripts deliberately to mock Jewishness.13 But the search for additional fragments, their identification and cataloguing, comes first. And this leads to the centennial work of Moritz Steinschneider.

Steinschneider’s Catalogues as a Model

Among the many bibliographic tasks undertaken by Steinschneider was the description of Hebrew manuscripts in several libraries.14 As Steven Harvey and Resianne Fontaine show in this volume, in the ﬁrst of these catalogues, on the Hebrew manuscripts in the Leiden library, Steinschneider took care to turn his work into a tool for the scholar, who could get an impression of the importance of a text transmitted in a manuscript by studying the description and ample excerpts in the editor’s entries. The Leiden volume is outstanding even among Steinschneider’s catalogues. But also in his other manuscript catalogues he attempted to provide full descriptions of the texts contained in the manuscripts wherever possible and necessary. This is especially

12 See on this János A. Szirmai, The Archaeology of Medieval Bookbinding (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999). 13 See here, e.g., a binding fragment from an anti-Jewish book, Die Weissagungen Johannes Lichtenbergers, Frankfurt am Main 1551, found recently in Frankfurt Uni- versity library with a parchment of Hebrew psalms wrapped around it (Signatur 8° Notitia librorum Francofurti impressorum, N. libri. Ff 11056). For further details see Lehnardt, “Einem Buchbinder verkauft zu schertz” (mentioned above). 14 Cf. Moritz Steinschneider, Cat. Leiden (Leiden: Brill, 1858); idem, “Verzeichnis der Hebräischen Handschriften,” in: Die Handschriftenverzeichnisse der Königlichen Bibliothek zu Berlin (Berlin: Königl. Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1878); idem, “Verzeichniss der Hebräischen Handschriften. Zweite Abtheilung,” in Die Handschriftenverzeichnisse der Königlichen Bibliothek zu Berlin (Berlin: A. Asher & Co, 1897); idem, Cat. Munich (1. Auflage; Munich, 1875); idem, Cat. Munich (zweite, größtenteils umgearbeitete und erweiterte Auflage; Munich, 1895); idem, Catalog der hebräischen Handschriften in der Stadtbibliothek zu Hamburg und der sich anschliessenden anderen Sprachen (Reprographischer Nachdruck der Ausgabe Hamburg 1878; with a foreword by Hellmut Braun [reprint Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1969]). GENIZAT GERMANIA 535 obvious in the case of unknown and unpublished works that Stein- schneider deemed worthy of additional study—amply present in the Leiden collection. The better known a text was, the less need there was for excerpts and summaries of contents. The Hamburg catalogue is a perfect example for how manuscripts of well-known texts are described only physically and with short notes on the differences between the printed text and the manuscript that do not claim to be complete.15 With the exception of Bible manuscripts, already covered in an extensive earlier catalogue and mentioned by Steinschneider in his introduction,16 no full catalogue of the manuscripts existed and he was critical of the previously published partial descriptions of some manuscripts. We may thus assume that he considered the descriptions of manuscripts of Midrash, liturgy, and other well-known works sufficient for scholarly use. A randomly chosen example from Steinschneider’s catalogue of the Hamburg manuscripts reveals that the physical description of a manuscript and its history may take up more room and list more details than the content description: 84. 116 (Uff. 106). Perg. 187 f. kl. Qu., deutsch, theils roth, miser- able Federzeichnungen; Punktuation theils verblasst, stark beschädigt; zuletzt שליט (sic) זה התפלה בראש חדש סיון ביום ו' והפרט רי"ט סליק. חזק ונחזק (so) הסופר. לא יוזק לא היום ולא לעולם עד שיעלה חמור בסולם. אני יצחק ב'ר' אברהם כתבתי זה התפלה. שלי"ט שלי"ט חזק ונתחזק. Scheint der Schreiber von Cod. München 3 in Ulm. Vgl. auch N. 293.2 ,Zunz, Lit. 88), 112 Abot) כי לא נאה Gebetbuch, 92b Haggada, 111b 17.הושענות zuletzt In the field of liturgy Steinschneider was willing to summarize even irregular textual collections very briefly; thus his number 125 in the Hamburg catalogue reads:

15 The Berlin catalogue is far more deﬁned by the form of the series in which it appears and does not necessarily reﬂect Steinschneider’s opinion on how much should be said about a manuscript. Even in this catalogue it is obvious that Steinschneider would not discuss, e.g., biblical manuscripts beyond the physical description and— where necessary—corrections to entries in earlier catalogues. 16 A. A. H. Lichtenstein, Paralipomena Critica Circa Textvm Veteris Testamenti Codicvm Hebraicorvm Etiam Nvnc Svperstitivm Ope Restitvendvm E Svpellectili Bibliothecae Pvblicae Ham- bvrgensis Havsta. (Helmstädt, 1799). 17 Steinschneider, Cat. Hamburg, 35. 536 elisabeth hollender and andreas lehnardt

125. 132 (Uff. 118). Perg. 45 f. breit Qu. in 2 Col., gothisch, nur bis f. 12b punktiert, sehr alt; f. 3 ergänzt, 4 abgerissen. folgt noch ;82 אורות מאופל ,n. 1 אדברך דודי מארין :Jozerot, f. 1b Index eben so für die anderen Feste.18 ,סימן פרשיות של פסח f. 4 Even less detailed is the description of an item from the Munich collection: 323. 29 f., moderne, punkt. Quadrat. enthält auch ;לך ה הצדקה .Einzelne Gebete für d. Versöhnungstag, anf Wertlos.19 ונתנה תוקף Liturgy was not a field that Steinschneider invested much interest in and he obviously thought that his descriptions would suffice for future scholars.20 Beyond this, it has to be noted that even after the publication of Leopold Zunz’s Literaturgeschichte der Synagogalen Poesie in 1865—i.e., after the Leiden catalogue, but before Steinschneider’s other catalogues—interest in the contents of liturgical manuscripts was limited. For other texts, like Bible or Midrash, he could assume that the text of the manuscript did not greatly deviate from the known “canonized” text and therefore his readers needed no detailed information. The question about the amount of detail needed to describe a manuscript in a catalogue also had to be addressed in the highly specialized modern-day project that seeks to follow in Steinschneider’s footsteps as a bibliographer of Hebrew manuscripts in Germany. This is the case even if this project focuses on a field that was not regarded as an independent subfield of Hebrew manuscript-lore in Steinschneider’s time: membra disiecta, leaves and fragments of Hebrew and Aramaic manuscripts used in bindings of incunabula, post-incunabula and archival files, in this case in German libraries and archives.

18 Steinschneider, Cat. Hamburg, 47. 19 Steinschneider, Cat. Munich, 176. 20 As compared to some other cataloguers, cf., e.g., H. Zotenberg, Catalogues des Manuscrits Hébreux et Samaritains de la Bibliothèque Impériale (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866) with regard to liturgical manuscripts. GENIZAT GERMANIA 537

Cataloguing Fragments from Genizat Germania: Convergences and Differences with Respect to Steinschneider

Steinschneider’s conviction that a catalogue should serve as a tool for scholars, and should therefore contain the utmost information on those ﬁelds where scholarship is likely to draw on the catalogue, is one of the main considerations guiding the processing of Hebrew fragments from German libraries and archives in the project Genizat Germania.21 The catalogues—both electronic and printed, of suitable collections— will be only one of the results of the project; others will be editions of such texts that might be of interest to scholarly research on rabbinic and medieval Hebrew literature and its transmission in medieval Ash- kenaz, discussions of the importance of certain texts in the libraries of the Jewish communities at the end of the Middle Ages, and studies of questions related both to the intellectual history of Ashkenaz in the late Middle Ages and to the material culture of Hebrew manuscripts at that time. Up to now, Hebrew and Aramaic binding fragments in archives and libraries in Germany have scarcely been examined. The existence of Hebrew fragments in the bindings of incunabula and manuscripts was already known in the nineteenth century.22 In fact, most German libraries with incunabula and post-incunabula keep a ﬁle or a box with manuscript leaves extracted from the bindings during the restoration of books and manuscripts.23 In his catalogues of the collections in Hamburg, Munich, and Berlin Steinschneider described such leaves

21 Funded by the DFG since February 2008. Cf. the similar project undertaken in Italy under the direction of M. Perani, as described in publications like Mauro Perani (ed.), La ‘Genizah italiana’ (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1999); Mauro Perani and Cesarino Ruini (eds.), “Fragmenta ne pereant”. Recupero e Studio dei frammenti di manuscritti medievali riutilizzati in legature (Ravenna: Longo, 2002). 22 One of the earliest publications in Germany was H. Ewald, “Über ein Bruch- stück Hebräischer Handschrift in Wolfenbüttel,” Nachrichten von der G. A. Universität und der königlichen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen 21 ( July 23, 1860): 210–223. On this strange article, which makes a discovery out of nothing, see the harsh critique by I. Caro, “Literarischer Wochenbericht,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 24, no. 40 (October 2, 1860): 588ff. 23 Guardbooks were not commonly used in German libraries, especially since the interest in manuscript fragments from bindings seems to have been kindled only by a lecture at the 14th Deutsche Bibliothekskonferenz, Mainz, in 1913, cf. G. Kohfeldt, “Aufbewahrung und Katalogisierung der handschriftlichen und gedruckten Einband- makulatur,” Zentralblatt für Bibliothekswesen 30 (1913): 424–435. 538 elisabeth hollender and andreas lehnardt and fragments that had been extracted from bindings. He himself had not devoted special attention to the membra disiecta, although he knew about their existence and even mentioned this in the foreword to the first volume of the Berlin catalogue.24 The most efficient approach to Hebrew binding fragments at the end of the nineteenth century was taken by the rabbi of Trier, Dr. Jacob Bassfreund, who started to publish fragments from the Trier Stadtbib- liothek in the Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums: a Midrash fragment and five French Siddur manuscripts that were used in the bindings of incunabula from the library of the canons at Eber- hardsklausen.25 After the Shoah, steps to find and catalogue material were undertaken by the former district rabbi of Mainz and Hessen, Dr. Ernst Róth, an erudite Hungarian rabbi with an excellent knowledge of Jewish manuscripts and literary history. Under the guidance of Hans Striedl, the Director of the Department of Manuscripts of the Staatsbibliothek Berlin, he published numerous finds in German libraries and archives in the series “Directory of Oriental Manuscripts in Germany” (Verzeichnis der orientalischen Handschriften in Deutschland).26 He also occasionally edited new findings.27 While his descriptions followed the rules laid down by the German Research Foundation (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft = DFG), which funded the project, his active search for fragments was basically limited to a ques- tionnaire sent to libraries that might own oriental manuscripts. The late 1980s saw isolated efforts to search for Hebrew membra disiecta. The first scholar who drew attention to the importance of the fragments of the Talmud Yerushalmi was Kurt Hans Staub, followed by Theodore Kwasmann, who published some fragments found in Trier, Munich, and Darmstadt.28 These fragments and additional ones were

24 Steinschneider, Verzeichniss der Hebräischen Handschriften, iv. 25 Jakob Bassfreund, “Über ein Midrasch-Fragment in der Stadt-Bibliothek zu Trier,” MGWJ 38 (1894): 167–176, 214–219; idem, “Hebräische Handschriften- Fragmente in der Stadtbibliothek zu Trier,” MGWJ 39 (1895): 263–271, 295–302, 343–350, 391–398, 492–506. 26 Most fragments can be found in the volume dedicated to the smaller collections, H. Striedl (ed.), Hebräische Handschriften. Teil 2, bearbeitet von E. Róth (Verzeichnis der Orientalischen Handschriften in Deutschland VI: 2) (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1965). 27 Ernst Róth, “Einbandfragment aus einem mittelalterlichen Koheleth-Kommen- tar in Rüsselsheim,” Udim 11–12 (1981–1982): 175–178. 28 Cf. Kurt Hans Staub, “Palästinische Talmud-Fragmente der Hessischen Landes- und Hochschulbibliothek Darmstadt. Kodikologische und handschriftenkundliche GENIZAT GERMANIA 539 published again by Yaacov Sussmann and then by Peter Schäfer and Hans-Jürgen Becker.29 The constant efforts undertaken by the Institute of Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts at the National and University Library at Givat Ram, Jerusalem have been of greater significance for fragment research in Germany. The electronic catalogue of the Insti- tute lists (2008) more than 500 Hebrew manuscript fragments from German libraries and archives.30 The catalogue entries produced for Genizat Germania differ in some points from Steinschneider’s. Mention should be made of the technical aspects,31 the scope of the catalogue project, and modern requirements for catalogues,32 but the main difference is in the assessment of what is important about a manuscript that would justify its inclusion in the catalogue. The technical side of preparing a catalogue has changed considerably since Steinschneider collected his descriptions of manuscripts on scrap paper and complained that “due to unforeseeable reasons” the planned plate with script examples could not be published in the Hamburg catalogue.33 Apart from the need—but also the available tools—to harmonize terminology and descriptive language, the greatest boon of modern technology is the easy use of images. Whereas Steinschneider crammed twelve examples of Ashkenazic script onto one plate,34 financial reasons limit the inclusion of images in a modern

Beobachtungen,” Bibliothek und Wissenschaft 28 (1995): 111–115; Theodore Kwasman, Untersuchungen zu Einbandfragmenten und ihre Beziehungen zum Palästinischen Talmud (Veröf- fentlichungen der Hochschule für Jüdische Studien Heidelberg 1) (Heidelberg: Hoch- schule für Jüdische Studien, 1986). 29 Cf. Yaaqov Sussman, “Seride Yerushalmi—kitve yad ashqenazi,” Kovez al Yad 12 (22) (1994): 3–120; Hans-Jürgen Becker, “The Yerushalmi Fragments in Munich, Darmstadt and Trier and their Relationship to the Vatican Manuscript Ebr. 133,” Jewish Studies Quarterly 2 (1995): 329–335; Peter Schäfer and Hans-Jürgen Becker (eds.), Synopse zum Talmud Yerushalmi, vol. III Ordnung Nashim, in collaboration with Gottfried Reeg (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998): VII–VIII. 30 For information on this institution see Benjamin Richler, Guide to Hebrew Manu- script Collections ( Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 1994): 83–84. A new and revised edition of this important handbook is in print. 31 Genizat Germania uses HiDA 4pro with Manuscriptum XML, a tool developed to catalogue medieval manuscripts and make digitalized existing catalogues available through a common database accessible at the website http://www.manuscripta- mediaevalia.de 32 In Germany deﬁned by the DFG; cf. Richtlinien Handschriftenkatalogisierung, 5th enl. ed., DFG 1992. 33 Steinschneider, Cat. Hamburg, xiii. 34 Steinschneider, [Verzeichniss der Hebräischen Handschriften] Cat. Berlin, Tafel II. 1878. 540 elisabeth hollender and andreas lehnardt printed catalogue and only questions of copyright restrict an electronic catalogue. The scope of the modern project differs greatly from that of Stein- schneider’s catalogues: Whereas he described manuscripts belonging to a single collection, Genizat Germania’s search for Hebrew fragments extends to many libraries, including such that have no oriental manuscripts at all but rather collections of early printed books. The inquiry also encompasses archives because they are likely to own Hebrew and Aramaic fragments. The project aims to offer new descriptions not only of fragments that have been extracted and are known to the librarians and occasionally listed in catalogues, but also of fragments that are still within the bindings and have to be extracted before they can be described.35 The projected catalogue of Genizat Germania will follow German and international standards in the description of manuscripts but, in addition, it must also take into account the special type of the manuscripts in question. Unlike in nineteenth-century catalogues of Hebrew manuscripts, now exact, uniform physical description and paleographic information will be of great importance, since they may help to identify leaves and fragments at different locations that come from the same original manuscript.36 According to the DFG-guidelines, the Genizat Germania catalogues will list the number of pages, the size of the leaf, the size of the text

35 The scope of the project is large: approx. 650 libraries in Germany own substantial collections of incunabula and post-incunabula, and almost 1,000 archives keep files from the 15th to 17th centuries which might be wrapped in Hebrew manuscripts. While in Germany most membra disiecta, binding-fragments and archival wrappers known today were made from Latin and German manuscripts, Hebrew fragments have been found in such a variety of places that no library or archive that owns relevant collections may be excluded per se from the search. Experience has taught us that even those libraries which were already visited by researchers interested in Hebrew fragments need to be included in a systematic search, since every single volume from a certain time-span needs to be checked. Jacob Bassfreund claimed that all of the liturgical fragments from Trier were extracted in 1894, but in the 1960s Ernst Róth described additional liturgical fragments that were found there later, and a recent systematic search in Trier has identified even more liturgical fragments and also Talmud and Midrash. 36 It is therefore desirable to include as many images as possible in both the electronic and the printed catalogues. That membra disiecta found at different locations may have belonged to the same codex has been proven by Genizat Italia. German examples are e.g. two leaves belonging to the Universitäts- und Stadtbibliothek Köln that were taken from a Mazor manuscript of which many leaves have been found at the Stadt- bibliothek Trier, or the Berlin fragment of Sefer Terumah (see below). GENIZAT GERMANIA 541 area, the number of columns and the number of leaves. The script is categorized, vocalization and cantillation marks noted, as well as the presence of masora for biblical texts. Dating is provided on the basis of paleographic data. Additional visual elements are listed, such as the use of colored ink, rubrics, initial words, marginal notes or even images. Many fragments are still identifiable as bifolios, and it has to be registered whether the bifolio was the innermost part of a quire.37 Identifying the contexts of fragments is one of the main tasks of the catalogue, as it was for Steinschneider. But unlike him, Genizat Germania is dealing mainly with known texts.38 A preliminary statistical analysis of the already known fragments indicates that about a quarter of them contain biblical texts; another quarter, liturgical ones. More than 12% of the Hebrew fragments found in Germany contain Tal- mud manuscripts, but the percentage is far less for Midrashim, Bible commentaries and halakhic works. While the statistical distribution of genres may change with new finds and possibly occasional finds of previously unpublished texts,39 it is quite obvious that the range of works uncovered in fragments will never parallel the range described in Steinschneider’s catalogues: collections of Hebrew manuscripts usually contain manuscripts from different countries and later periods, and therefore do not mirror the bookcases of the Ashkenazic communities at the end of the Middle Ages.40

37 In some cases also outmost bifolios can be identified by the help of the page guards. In some cases it is possible to make an educated guess about the position of other bifolios in the quire, depending on the amount of text lacking between the two leaves of the bifolio. 38 In addition to canonized text also many medieval works exist in electronic editions today and can easily be used to identify fragments. Steinschneider was still at a loss regarding Cod. Hebr. 153. III of the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Munich. A comparison with existing electronic texts showed that the text on the first leaf of this item is a passage from Sefer Yerexim by Eliezer ben Shemuel of Metz, a 12th-century Tosafist, with variants to the text printed for the first time in 1892 in Vilna. 39 Cf. e.g. Elisabeth Hollender and Andreas Lehnardt, “Ein unbekannter hebräischer Esther-Kommentar aus einem Einbandfragment,” Frankfurter Judaistische Beiträge 33 (2006): 35–67. An image of this fragment was published in: Konrad Wiedemann and Bettina Wischhöfer (eds.), Einbandfragmente in kirchlichen Archiven aus Kurhessen-Waldeck (Schriften des Landeskirchlichen Archivs Kassel 21, Kassel, 2007): 170. 40 In comparison: Steinschneider’s catalogue of the Hamburg collection contains 355 numbers, 117 of which are Ashkenazic manuscripts copied until the end of the 15th century. Of those manuscripts, 59 (more than 50%) are liturgical, 20 (approx. 17%) are biblical, 24 (approx. 24 %) are halakhic. There are no Talmudic manuscripts; 8 manuscripts (approx. 7%) contain exegetical texts, besides 4 (approx. 3.4%) manuscripts of piyyut commentaries and 3 (approx. 2.6%) manuscripts of Tal- mud commentaries. The other genres are represented in very small numbers only: 542 elisabeth hollender and andreas lehnardt

Thus most of the fragments can be described in a way similar to that chosen by Steinschneider for describing known works. Since fragments usually contain only parts of works, the descriptions contain, in addition to the general identiﬁcation, also a reference to the exact point in the critical edition (or standard edition) of the text.41 Major variants are noted, and since the items in a catalogue of fragments are short, the deﬁnition of a “major variant” differs from the one followed in a catalogue of complete manuscripts.42

Contextualizing the Fragments: Uses for History

The two main differences between the descriptions in Genizat Germa- nia and those of Steinschneider and his contemporaries concern the study of the binding in which the fragment was used and details about its provenance—the book, manuscript or archival ﬁle whose binding

2 manuscripts (approx. 1.7%) each of Midrash and what Steinschneider termed “theology and philosophy,” and one manuscript (approx. 0.9%) apiece of Kabbalah, medicine and other texts. The numbers differ if one checks larger collections. A test search, in the catalogue of the Institute for Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts, for manuscripts in Ashkenazic script dated until the end of the 15th century (including fragments, a total of 7540 items), resulted in 1084 Bible manuscripts (approx. 14.4%), 1198 manuscripts with liturgical contents (including commentaries on liturgies, together approx. 15.9%), 212 Talmud manuscripts (approx. 2.8%), 309 manuscripts of Midrashim .approx) הלכה approx. 4.1%), 1715 manuscripts described as using the keyword) including works that) פרוש and 1529 manuscripts described as using the word ,(22.7% Steinschneider would have grouped as philosophy, altogether approx. 20.3%). The striking difference between known Talmud manuscripts and known Talmud fragments from Germany may be due to a systematical search for Talmud fragments in the framework of a recently finished research project under the direction of Yaakov Suss- man (HU, Jerusalem). The future search of Genizat Germania will have to show whether in fact the number of Talmudic manuscripts that were appropriated for secondary use in Germany is higher than their share in the overall number of known manuscripts. The special attention paid by Christians to the Talmud and their attempts to prevent its circulation and use by Jewish scholars will have to be taken into account when evaluating the number of copies of Talmudic tractates that can be attested. 41 In addition to traditional forms of incipits, we do register the first and last few words of a text as a further means to identify the position of the fragment with respect to the text copied (and also as a tool for reconstructing manuscripts from fragments). 42 Difficulties occur with fragmentary rare texts that cannot be identified according to their beginning, with the astonishingly high number of liturgical poems that have not yet been edited in critical editions, with texts that vary greatly from the edited versions, and with texts that are generally unknown. In the ideal case the electronic catalogue would contain a fully searchable transcript of each fragment that cannot yet be identified, but currently such a transcription is only done when a text has been edited. GENIZAT GERMANIA 543 contained the Hebrew item. These questions are closely related to one another. According to the hierarchy underlying the computerized catalogue of medieval manuscripts in Germany, Manuscripta Mediaeva- lia, fragments are part of the binding and will usually be described as its sub-elements. While Genizat Germania does not follow this structure exactly, the truism “fragments are part of the binding” is still important for the project. Identifying the binding that contains or contained the fragment affords (where still available) important information about the fragment itself: When was the fragment used for binding, where, by whom? Can other bindings from the same workshop be identified and do they contain additional membra disiecta, maybe even from the same original manuscript? Assuming that binders acquired entire Hebrew manuscripts, searching for other products of a binder’s workshop once a first Hebrew fragment used there has been found should be worthwhile. Since bindings were commissioned by the owners of the book, not by the printer, binders usually worked for different cli- ents within a given region. On the other hand, collectors and libraries often employed the same binder’s workshop for books acquired from different sources. Many monastic libraries even had their own binder’s workshops that bound all the books and manuscripts in their collection and probably extended their services to smaller monastic libraries in the vicinity. Knowing either the binder or the first library that owned a volume is therefore an important step toward reconstructing the history of a Hebrew manuscript, its possible region of production and its place and time of secondary use. The bindings from the library of the canons of Eberhardsklausen, kept now in the Stadtbibliothek Trier and elsewhere, can serve as an example of the possibility to study fragments used in a single workshop. The bindings found in this library can be identified by their use of special decorations; a large part of the collection remained together, although parts were moved to the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, and other displaced volumes are now in several other libraries (including the Staatsbibliothek Berlin and the Universitäts- und Stadtbibliothek Köln). Several manuscripts used in the binder’s workshop in Eber- hardsklausen can be identified, among them five copies of the French Siddur, manuscripts of several massekhtot of Talmud Bavli, a Bible with Targum, and a copy of Sefer Terumah.43 Between 1892 and 1894 almost

43 On the fragments from a Sefer Terumah in Trier, see Andreas Lehnardt, “Die Einbandfragmente des Sefer Terumah des Baruch bar Isaak in der Bibliothek des 544 elisabeth hollender and andreas lehnardt all the liturgical Hebrew pages were extracted from the books in Trier without full documentation, but often it is still possible to reassemble binding and fragment with the help of the mirror image of the Hebrew text, created by the glue that kept some of the ink on the wooden binding.44 Apparently the Hebrew manuscripts were used one after the other in the binder’s workshop, which enables historians to write part of the history of the Eberhardsklausen library: books that were bound with the same Hebrew manuscript were most probably bought and bound at about the same time, and since the order of pages in the Hebrew manuscript can be reconstructed, a (tentative) temporal order of the books containing the membra disiecta can be established.45 Archival files—where manuscript pages were often used as outer bindings or wrappers—can yield even more precise information on the place and time a manuscript was put to secondary use. Many leaves from a large Mazor were used as wrappers of archival files in Hildesheim.46 During her research into these fragments, Saskia Dönitz was investigating the history of Hildesheim Jewry and has established a direct link between the flight of Hildesheim’s Jews (1457) and the secondary use of the Mazor as wrappers of municipal files a few years later.47 Most probably other similar series of pages exist in other German archives. In these cases, it is likely that the Hebrew manuscripts were used by the local Jewish communities and then seized

ehemaligen Augustiner-Chorherren-Klosters in Eberhardsklausen bei Trier,” in: Andrea Rapp and Michael Embach (eds.), Zur Erforschung mittelalterlicher Bibliotheken. Chancen—Entwicklungen—Perspektiven. Zeitschrift für Bibliothekswesen und Bibliographie. Son- derheft (Frankfurt am Main: Verlag Klostermann, 2009): 245–273. 44 In some cases the librarian did note the number of the manuscript or incunabula from which the fragment was taken on the fragment. 45 On the Eberhardsklausen library and the liturgical Hebrew fragments used in its bindings, cf. Marco Brösch, “Makulierte hebräische Handschriften in Eberhards- klausen—eine bibliotheks- und literaturgeschichtliche Untersuchung,” in: Andreas Lehnardt (ed.), ‘Genizat Germania.’ Hebrew and Aramaic binding fragments in context (Leiden: Brill, 2009): 91–155 and Elisabeth Hollender, “Reconstructing Manuscripts: The Liturgical Fragments from Trier,” in: Andreas Lehnardt (ed.), ‘Genizat Germania.’ Hebrew and Aramaic binding fragments in context (Leiden: Brill, 2009): 61–90. 46 Cf. Saskia Dönitz, “Ein Hildesheimer Machsor—Fragmente eines mittelalterlichen hebräischen Gebetbuches. Pergamentmakulaturen aus dem 15. Jahrhundert im Stadtarchiv Hildesheim,” Hildesheimer Jahrbuch für Stadt und Stift Hildesheim 72/73 (2000/2001): 189–203. 47 Saskia Dönitz, “Puzzling the Past: Reconstructing a Mazor from Receipt Wrap- pings,” in: Andreas Lehnardt (ed.), ‘Genizat Germania.’ Hebrew and Aramaic binding fragments in context (Leiden: Brill, 2009): 31–39. GENIZAT GERMANIA 545 by the municipality after the expulsion or the ﬂight of the Jewish inhabitants. A study of the provenance of books containing Hebrew membra disiecta can therefore yield results in more than one area: it might lead us to other fragments from the same manuscript, but it might also inform us about the history of the manuscripts used in bindings. V. DOCUMENTS AND TEXTS 25. TRACING STEINSCHNEIDER IN THE BERLIN STAATSBIBLIOTHEK

Petra Figeac

More than one hundred years after Moritz Steinschneider’s death, the Hebraica librarians at the Berlin Staatsbibliothek, where he spent so many fruitful years, still have daily encounters with the great scholar. Not a day passes without looking up one of “the Steinschneiders”— whether a manuscript catalogue (in addition to the Berlin one, those in Leiden, Munich, and Hamburg), the famous catalogue of Hebrew books at the Bodleian library, or one of his literary histories. Despite such close contact with the master via his oeuvre, most of its users know very little about his life. Placing such high importance on the objectivity of scholarly research, Steinschneider deliberately avoided including any reference to his personal life in his works. But for those of us interested in the intellectual history of the nineteenth century, Stein- schneider has become an object of scientific study in his own right. We are interested in illuminating and understanding the great contribution he made in his lifetime to the advance of scholarly research. Knowing more about Steinschneider’s life will shed light both on the scientific practices in nineteenth-century Berlin and on the beginnings of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. While the thousands of printed pages composed by Steinschneider offer little insight into his life, there is enough archival material in a number of libraries to remedy this deficiency. Specifically, during the last 62 years of his life, Steinschneider worked at the Königliche Bibliothek (today the Staatsbibliothek) in Berlin, where he left behind numerous traces. Here I wish to present some of them.

1. Steinschneider’s Catalogue of Hebrew Manuscripts at the Königliche Bibliothek

To this day, Steinschneider’s is the only catalogue of manuscripts at the Berlin library. The library possesses Steinschneider’s autograph copy of this catalogue, a convolute of hundreds of pages (call number: 550 petra figeac

Ms. Cat. A 491). For the historian, both recto and verso of each page are of interest: recto because it allows a glimpse into Steinschneider’s very personal work methods; and verso, because Steinschneider wrote the entries of the catalogue on the back of sundry pieces of printed paper—advertisements, bills, receipts, etc.—that afford some insight into his life. A few samples of these are reproduced here (pp. 552–559). All come from the autograph copy, and, where appropriate, the corresponding page numbers in the printed catalogue are indicated.

1. Unpaginated. Beginning of the description of the Folio series (= catalogue, p. 1). 2. Fol. 35. Beginning of the description of the Quarto series (= catalogue, p. 15). 3. Unpaginated. Beginning of the appendices (= catalogue, p. 116). 4. Unpaginated. Beginning of the geographical index (= catalogue, p. 149). 5. Unpaginated. The back of a slip of paper reused by Steinschneider: an envelope addressed to Steinschneider at Rosenstraße 2, the seat of the girls’ school where Steinschneider was director and spent much of his time. 6. Unpaginated. Another slip of paper reused by Steinschneider: a receipt for the dues to the Jewish community, dated April 1, 1876. 7. Unpaginated. Another slip of paper reused by Steinschneider: a notice to parents that their daughter had misbehaved at school and been punished, dated June 28, 1877. 8. Unpaginated. Another slip of paper reused by Steinschneider: a convocation to court to provide expert testimony, dated March 25, 1867.

2. Steinschneider’s Personal File at the Library

Steinschneider was not a regular employee of the library and therefore no complete personal file exists for him. But there is a partial personal file containing interesting information about him (Acta A I 6a). The most valuable document in this file is one showing attempts by Adolf von Harnack (1851–1930), the great historian and theologian, who tracing steinschneider in the berlin staatsbibliothek 551 was the director of the library from 1906 to 1921, to obtain for Stein- schneider the Prussian “Red Order.”1

9. Fol. 28. The first page of the personal file. 10. Fol. 28 verso. A page from the personal file. 11. Adolf von Harnack’s nomination of Steinschneider for the Prus- sian “Red Order,” dated February 2, 1906. 12. Adolf von Harnack’s justification for his application to award Steinschneider the Prussian “Red Order,” dated March 30, 1906. 13. Letter dated January 24, 1907, addressed by Max Steinschneider to the director of the library, announcing the death of his father that same morning.

3. Other Traces

Steinschneider occasionally bought and sold Hebrew manuscripts (as described in B. Richler’s contribution to this volume). On some of the manuscripts he acquired Steinschneider wrote marginalia (a shocking practice by today’s standards!) and these can be observed on several manuscripts later purchased by the Staatsbibliothek from Stein- schneider (no. 14 below). Steinschneider participated in preparing the library’s catalogue of Hebrew books and his working methods can be gauged from the two reproduced pages (nos. 15 and 16).

14. Ms Or Qu. 836, Fol. 50r. The folio carries annotations by Stein- schneider. 15. Catalogue of Hebrew books in the Staatsbibliothek: page in Stein- schneider’s hand. 16. Catalogue of Hebrew books in the Staatsbibliothek: page of the index in Steinschneider’s hand.

1 Research in Prussian archives might help us discover how this request was received at the ministry to which it was addressed and why Steinschneider did not obtain the order. 552 petra figeac

1 tracing steinschneider in the berlin staatsbibliothek 553

2 554 petra figeac

3 tracing steinschneider in the berlin staatsbibliothek 555

4 556 petra figeac

5 tracing steinschneider in the berlin staatsbibliothek 557 6 558 petra figeac 7 tracing steinschneider in the berlin staatsbibliothek 559

8 560 petra figeac

9 tracing steinschneider in the berlin staatsbibliothek 561 10 562 petra figeac

11 tracing steinschneider in the berlin staatsbibliothek 563

12 564 petra figeac

13 tracing steinschneider in the berlin staatsbibliothek 565

14 566 petra figeac

15 tracing steinschneider in the berlin staatsbibliothek 567

16 26. DER ABERGLAUBE [1900]*

Moritz Steinschneider

[3]Der Aberglaube gehört zu den Dingen, die uns so bekannt sind, daß wir nicht darüber nachdenken, die wir uns aber durchaus nicht so leicht zu erklären wissen, als wir gemeint haben, weil wir den Wald vor Bäumen nicht sehen. Sollte also einer von Ihnen vielleicht sich vergebens den Kopf darüber zerbrochen haben, was eigentlich Aber- glaube sei, wo er anfange und aufhöre, so tröste er sich: es ist vielen Gelehrten auch nicht besser gegangen. Wenn ich es wage, gerade über diesen Gegenstand Ihre freundliche Aufmerksamkeit zu erbitten, so geschieht es nicht, weil ich glaube, Ihnen ohne Weiteres die Frage lösen zu können, die sich an den schwierigen und schwankenden Begriff des Aberglaubens knüpft, sondern weil ich eben diese Aufgabe für eine große halte, an welcher noch Jahrhunderte, vielleicht Jahr- tausende arbeiten werden; und in magnis rebus voluisse sat est (Großes gewollt zu haben, genügt). Es giebt aber verschiedene Wege, sich schwierige Begriffe klar zu machen; wir wollen auf jedem einzelnen dieser Wege uns so lange auf- halten, als es die Zeit gestattet; es sind diese Wege 1. der des Beispiels oder der Geschichte; 2. Vergleichung verwandter Begriffe, 3. sprachliche Betrachtung.

Den Weg des Beispiels kennen wir Alle aus der Schule. Der Lehrer führt uns eine Anzahl von einzelnen Dingen oder [4]Fällen vor und läßt uns das Gemeinschaftliche herausﬁnden, das ist der Begriff; was

* First published as: Der Aberglaube. Vortrag im Verein junger Kaufleute zu Berlin (1863). Für den Abdruck erweitert. Von Moritz Steinschneider in Berlin. Hamburg. Verlagsanstalt und Druckerei U. G. (vormals J. F. Richter), Königliche Hofbuchhand- lung. 1900. [Sammlung gemeinverständlicher wissenschaftlicher Vorträge, begründet von Rud. Virchow und Fr. von Holtzendorff, herausgegeben von Rud. Virchow. Neue Folge. Fünfzehnte Serie. (Heft 337–360 umfassend.) Heft 346.] 34 pages. The original page numbers are indicate in square brackets. 570 moritz steinschneider nur bei Einzelnen vorkommt, ist zufällig oder unwesentlich. So z. B. ergiebt sich bei der Beschreibung einer Anzahl von Bäumen die Farbe, Höhe und dergl. als zufällig, dagegen sind Wurzel und Rinde wesent- lich. Ein falsches oder unsicheres Beispiel verwirrt die Begriffe, und es ist die größte Kunst des Lehrers, richtige Beispiele zu wählen. Ebenso verhält es sich mit den abstracten Begriffen, wie z. B. Treue, Tapfer- keit und dergl. Wie aber, wenn der Begriff selbst noch nicht sicher ist? Wir wollen den Begriff des Aberglaubens finden; ist jede falsche Ansicht von der Welt und Natur ein Aberglaube? Bis zur neueren Zeit glaubte man, die Erde sei der Mittelpunkt der Welt, um welche sich Sonne, Mond und Sterne drehen, der Mensch sei das höchste vernünftige Geschöpf. Einer der letzten Philosophen Berlins lehrte sogar, daß der Mensch das einzige vernünftige Geschöpf sei. Man unterstützte diese Ansicht dadurch, daß – das Beste sich überall in der Mitte finde, wie der Samen der Blume, der Kern in der Schale, also auch die Erde und der Mensch. War das Aberglaube? Die Frage ist schwer zu entscheiden; um so schwerer zu entscheiden, als mit dieser Ansicht eine ganze Reihe abergläubischer Vorstellungen zusammenhing, auf die ich später zurückkomme. Was ist zu thun, wenn man einen schwierigen Begriff auf diesem Wege nicht lehren, sondern erst finden will? Da bleibt nichts Anderes übrig, als die Menge und Mannigfaltigkeit der Beispiele, die uns darauf führt, Wesentliches vom Unwesentlichen zu unterscheiden. Denselben Weg einzuschlagen, um das Wesen des Aberglaubens zu finden, das hieße die ganze Weltgeschichte studiren, um die Thorheiten der Menschen aufzusuchen, denn Wahn und Aberglaube waren oft die geheime Triebfeder von Bestrebungen, die wir als die edelsten und höchsten bewundern, und selbst die scheinbar uneigennützigste [5]Neigung des Menschen, der edle Durst nach Wissen, er hat nicht selten in einer trüben Verirrung des Geistes seinen Ausgangspunkt gehabt. Das klingt freilich sehr melancholisch und abschreckend, hat aber auch seine erfreuliche Kehrseite. Börne ruft einmal aus: Ich bewundere die Vor- sehung, die so im Trüben zu fischen versteht, d. h. aus dem Uebel Gutes hervorbringt. In der That haben Wahn und Aberglaube die wichtigsten Wissenschaften erzeugt, insbesondere zwei, welche die Grenzen und entgegengesetzten Zielpunkte menschlicher Forschung bezeichnen, die Kenntniß des Kleinsten und Größten, des Nächsten und Fernsten. Wenn durch Jahrhunderte begabte Männer in der Stille der Nacht und in abgeschlossenen Gemächern mit bewunderungs- würdiger Geduld Phiolen, Retorten und wie die seltsamen Gefäße der aberglaube 571 hießen, unter wunderlichen und mystischen Zeremonien leerten und füllten – mitunter Gesundheit und Vermögen und häusliches Glück an diese Beschäftigung setzten, so geschah es freilich meist, um die Kunst, Gold zu machen, oder, wie man es nannte, den Stein der Weisen zu finden, welcher nicht aufgehört hat, die Menschen zu Narren zu machen. Solche Männer nannte man Philosophen und Alchemisten und dergl. und ihre Wissenschaft Alchemie, ein Wort, über dessen Ursprung die Gelehrten nicht einig sind. Aber jene aber- gläubische Alchemie wurde die Mutter einer der bedeutendsten Wis- senschaften unserer Zeit – der Chemie, welche unserem Handwerke, der Kunst und der Industrie einen ungeahnten Aufschwung gegeben, so daß die Grenzen von Handwerker, Künstler, Kaufmann und Fabri- kant immer schwerer zu ziehen sind und damit eine mittelalterliche Sonderung der Menschen, das Zunft- und Innungswesen, mit allen seinen sittlichen Nachtheilen zerfallen mußte. Ein tüchtiger Chemiker macht wirklich Gold ohne Zauberformel und Beschwörung. Neben dem Mercur, d. h. Quecksilber, welches bei den Alchemisten eine große Rolle spielte, bedient er[6] sich Mercurs, des Gottes der Kauf- leute, der die Erfindung des Gedankens in baare Münze ausprägt. Eine andere abergläubische Wissenschaft war die Sterndeutung oder Astrologie. Die ewig gleiche Bewegung der Himmelskörper war schon den ersten Menschen Gegenstand der Beobachtung; denn es knüpften sich an den Lauf von Sonne, Mond und Sternen die wichtigsten Abschnitte und Erinnerungen des Lebens: die Eintheilung der Zeit in Jahre, Monate, Tage und Stunden und selbst gewisse Erschei- nungen unserer Atmosphäre, die man das Wetter nennt. Aber bald glaubte man an eine nähere und ganz einzelne Beziehung der großen Welt zur kleinen, des. „Makrokosmos“ zum „Mikrokosmos“, d.h. des ganzen Universums zum Menschen, der darin eine Hauptrolle spielt, wenigstens so langer er Acteur und Zuschauer zugleich ist. So beach- tete man vorzugsweise die sieben Planeten, zu welchen auch nach dem alten, sogenannten ptolemäischen System die Sonne gehört, und nach denen die Wochentage benannt sind, von denen aber die Tagesstunden beherrscht sein sollten; ferner die 12 Sternbilder des Thierkreises, in deren Nähe die Sonne im Laufe des Jahres gesehen wird, und die man wieder in 27 oder 28 Mondstationen zerlegte. Von der verschiedenen Stellung der Sterne und Gestirne sollte das ganze Schicksal der Men- schen abhängen, sei es, daß man sich diesen Einfluß in rein physischer Weise, wie es Aristoteles that, oder in mystischer Weise dachte. Man beobachtete daher den Standpunkt derselben bei der Geburt (Nativität) 572 moritz steinschneider oder verfolgte sie im Vorhinein (Horoskop). Große und kleine Bege- benheiten der Geschichte und des Einzelnen, ob eine Revolution im Staate oder auf der Erde stattfinden, ob Pest und Krieg eintreffen werde, ob ein Mensch rothe oder schwarze Haare, starke oder schwa- che Verdauung, ob er Glück im Spiel oder in der Liebe haben werde, Alles das stand in den verwickelten Figuren der Sterne dem Sternseher deutlich [7]geschrieben, und diese Figuren wurden daher nicht bloß beobachtet, sondern auch vorher berechnet. Dazu gehörte aber eine Genauigkeit der Beobachtung und Berechnung, wie sie nur gün- stig gestellte Gelehrte ausführen konnten. Könige und hohe Herren hatten aber auch als Gegenstücke zu ihren Hofnarren, die allein die Wahrheit sagen durften, ihre Hofweisen oder Astrologen, welche das Privilegium hatten, ihre Herren systematisch vor die Sterne und hinter das Licht zu führen. Im Morgenlande gab es ganze Collegien solcher Priester der Lüge, Zeichendeuter, Wahrsager u.s.w., und die erste Pflegestätte der Astrologie ist wahrscheinlich Babylon gewesen. Ob der Thurm zu Babylon wirklich eine Sternwarte gewesen sei, lasse ich dahingestellt; jedenfalls hatte sich von dort aus jene Verwirrung des Geistes nach Indien und China verbreitet, wo noch jetzt die Hofa- strologen den Kalender für das ganze Jahr und nach den 28 Mondsta- tionen bestimmen, wann gesäet, geerntet werden soll und dergl.1 Die Astrologie begann als eine ganz praktische Wissenschaft und ist uns ein Beispiel, wie der sogenannte „praktische Sinn“ – welchen man oft den leeren fruchtlosen Speculationen gegenüberstellt – sich bis zum Wahnsinn verirrt, wenn er eben nicht von einer vernünftigen Theorie geleitet wird. Die Astrologie ist der letzte Zweck der Sternstunde bis in die neueste Zeit gewesen; die berühmtesten Astronomen, wie Tycho de Brahe und Kepler, waren Anhänger der Astrologie, und noch im Jahre 1818 gab ein verdienstvoller Professor der Astronomie in Nürn- berg, Pfaff, ein Lehrbuch der Astrologie heraus. Aus dieser angeblichen Weisheit ist noch manche Thorheit unserer Zeit übrig, wie z. B. der Glaube an ominöse Tage und Stunden, die Glück und Unglück bringen, ebenso die Witterungskunde des hundertjährigen Kalenders, welche wahrscheinlich darauf beruht, daß man in den alten Zeiten

1 Ein solcher arabischer Kalender von dem Sohne eines Bischofs aus Cordova (961) ist im Original und in einer alten lateinischen Uebersetzung in neuester Zeit von Prof. Dozy veröffentlicht worden. der aberglaube 573 glaubte, die Tag- und Nachtgleiche rücke alle 100 Jahre um einen Grad vorwärts.

[8]Astrologische Schriften in methodischer Weise sind schon von Pto- lemäus, nach welchem das alte astronomische System benannt ist, in griechischer Sprache verfaßt; die angezweifelte Echtheit derselben ist von dem französischen Gelehrten H. Martin überzeugend vertheidigt worden. Im Anschluß an griechische und indische Astrologie haben Araber und Juden diese Afterwissenschaft in allgemeinen und besonderen Schriften dem christlichen Europa überliefert. Davon hat Schiller für seinen Wallenstein Kenntniß genommen. Für die Leser Schiller’s hat der bekannte Professor Schleiden eine Abhandlung geschrieben, worin er die zum Verständniß des Dramas führenden Grundlagen der Astrologie auseinandergesetzt hat. Die allgemeinen Schriften der mittelalterlichen Astrologen, welche mitunter den Titel „Einleitung“ führen, geben zunächst gewisse astronomische Grundlagen und Vorbegriffe; sie behandeln die sogenannten Sphären oder durchsichtigen saphyrartigen Hohlkugeln, in welchen die Sterne wie goldene Nägel eingeschlagen sind; letztere bilden 48 Sternbilder, wovon 12 den Thierkreis männlichen und weiblichen Geschlechts ausmachen, zusammen 1022 Sterne, außer den 7 Plane- ten, zu denen man auch Sonne und Mond rechnete, und die in ihrem Laufe an Bedeutung gewinnen oder verlieren, d. h. in „Gruben“ fallen. Der Sternhimmel wird in 12 Bezirke oder sogenannte „Häuser“ getheilt, deren jedes eine besondere Art von Bedeutung und einen der Planeten zum Herrn oder „Regenten“ hat. Die jeweilige Stellung von Planeten zu einander bildet die „Aspecten“ oder „Scheine“, z. B. Geviertschein. Die Stellungen („Constellationen“) und Läufe – die Bewegung der Planeten von Westen nach Osten betrachtete man als „Rücklauf“ – waren maßgebend für die Beantwortung von Fragen jeder Art, für das Schicksal eines Kindes je nach seiner Geburtsstunde, für Ereignisse in bestimmten Perioden; [9]daher ist auch von „Loosen“ oder Antheilen der Sterne und Gestirne die Rede. Die Sterne haben besondere Bezie- hungen zu Farben, Mineralien, Pflanzen, Thieren, Nationen und Län- dern, sogar zu einzelnen Buchstaben der betreffenden Schrift. Je zehn Grade des Thierkreises oder des Gesichtskreises sind einem sogenannten „Dekan“ (Vorgesetzter von zehn) untergeordnet. Die Mondbahn um die Erde wird in 27, später in 28 sogenannte Mondstationen 574 moritz steinschneider getheilt, weil der Umlauf des Mondes um die Erde auf 27, dann 28 Tage oder 4 Wochen berechnet wurde, wie man den Jahreslauf der Sonne in 12 Monate theilte. Die Mondstationen bildete man ebenfalls aus willkürlichen Sterngruppen mit einem besonderen Namen. An sie knüpfte man besonders schon in sehr alten Zeiten den Witterungs- kalender. Einige neuere Gelehrte finden diese Stationen schon in den biblischen „Mazzarot“ (Hiob 38, 32); doch findet sich die sichere Kennt- niß derselben bei den Juden erst unter der Herrschaft des Islam. Nach der Lehre der Inder gehen in gewissen Himmelsabschnitten neben Sternbildern auch geistige Figuren auf von angezweifelter Beschaf- fenheit. Den einzelnen Ausdruck einer praktischen Anwendung einer astrologischen Lehre nennt man „Urtheil“ ( judicium) des Sterngerich- tes, wie man sagen möchte, da die Sterne in der That auch als Richter bezeichnet werden. Gegenstände besonderer Schriften, welche danach betitelt werden, sind hauptsächlich: „Nativitäten“ oder Horoskope, d. h. Schicksal des Menschen nach der Sternenstellung bei seiner Geburt; Electiones oder Tag- und Stundenwählerei; Conjunctiones, Verbindungen von Pla- neten, bedeutungsvoll für große Ereignisse: Religionsstiftung, Dyna- stienwechsel, Calamitäten, wie Krieg, Pest und dergl., Sonnen – und Mondfinsternisse; Interrogationes, Fragen, die gestellt werden. Aber wie Nebukadnezar von seinen „Kasdim“ oder Wahrsagern verlangt, daß sie als Beweis ihrer Traumdeutekunst den Traum selbst[10] errathen, so soll auch der Astrologe die an ihn zu stellende Frage errathen! Die Astrologie führte zu genauer Beobachtung und Berechnung, also zur wissenschaftlichen Sternkunde mit ihrem überaus wichtigen Einfluß auf das Thun und Denken der Menschen. Der Astronomie ver- danken wir zum großen Theil die Entdeckungen auf unserem Erdball selbst, die Ausbreitung des Handels und Verkehrs, die Verbindung der Menschen über den ganzen Erdball. Denn nicht bloß vor der Erfin- dung des Compasses mit der Magnetnadel, sondern auch nachher leitete die Kenntniß der Sterne das Schiff des Kaufherrn und Seefah- rers und die Schritte des Wanderers in unbekannte Welttheile. Die Beobachtung der Sterne und ihre Bewegungen führt uns aber auch zur Kenntniß des Weltenbaues und hat am meisten dazu beigetragen, den Aberglauben des Mittelalters von Grund aus zu erschüttern. Die Zornruthe Gottes, die man im Schwanze des Kometen sah, hat sich in einen Lichtstreifen verwandelt, dessen Größe von seiner Entfernung und Richtung abhängt; aber noch mehr, der Himmel hörte auf, eine feste Glasglocke zu sein, in welcher die Sterne eingenagelt sind, und der aberglaube 575 wir selber schweben auf der Erde im Himmel. Himmel und Erde sind nicht mehr entgegengesetzte Dinge, und alle die alten, phantastischen Vorstellungen von dem Jenseits mußten in Nichts zerfallen. Gott ist uns dadurch nicht entrückt, sondern näher gerückt, denn die Erde ist ihm nunmehr so nahe, als jeder andere Stern. Dieser einfache Gedanke ist freilich ein sehr alter. Schon ein griechischer Weiser soll behauptet haben, die Erde bewege sich um die Sonne, aber kaum wagte Jemand, diese Ansicht zu vertheidigen; denn man verspottete solche Männer oder belächelte sie als Sonderlinge – denn das Einfachste dringt am schwersten durch. Die Ungelehrten trauten mehr ihren Augen, welche Sonne, Mond und Sterne auf- und niedergehen sehen, und die Ge-[11]lehrten quälten sich mit künstlichen Vorstellun- gen, die immer schwieriger und undeutlicher wurden, je mehr die Beobachtung der Sternbewegung fortschritt. Ja, nachdem auch der Astronom aus Thorn, Copernicus, die neue Lehre begründet hatte, welche jetzt jedes Schulkind zu beweisen versteht, mußte der Italiener Galilei dem Bann der römischen Geistlichkeit nachgeben und seine Ueberzeugung, daß die Erde sich bewege, öffentlich widerrufen, – freilich soll er im Stillen hinzugefügt haben: „Sie bewegt sich doch!“ Gali- lei erblindete im Kerker, aber er hatte bereits das Fernrohr erfunden, welches die Sterne näher brachte und dazu beitrug, die neue Lehre zu befestigen. So hat die abergläubische Beobachtung der Astrolo- gie zuletzt den Wahn vernichtet, aus welchem sie hervorgegangen, und am meisten zur Aufklärung beigetragen, welche die neueste Zeit bezeichnet. Die Geschichte des Aberglaubens führt also nicht zur Ver- zweiflung an der menschlichen Vernunft und der göttlichen Weisheit, sondern umgekehrt, sie lehrt uns, daß auch die Verirrungen die Men- schen zu dem erhabenen Ziel führen, zu dem sie bestimmt sind, und wenn leider noch so viel Aberglaubens unter uns inmitten der edelsten Bestrebungen nach Aufklärung herrscht, so wird auch dieser noch zur Förderung unserer Erkenntniß dienen, so lange es nicht an Männern fehlt, welche mit Selbstaufopferung dem Streben nach Wahrheit sich hingeben. Ist also die Geschichte des Aberglaubens keine müßige Befriedigung der Neugier, so ist sie doch eine sehr umfangreiche und schwierige. Es giebt ein altes Bild: die Wahrheit gleicht der geraden Linie; es giebt nur eine Wahrheit; Lügen und krumme Linien giebt es aber unendlich viele. Es kann nicht die Aufgabe dieses Vortrages sein, auch nur einen Umriß des großen Gebietes zu geben. Religion und vermeintliche 576 moritz steinschneider

Wissenschaft, falsche Wahrnehmung und Auffassung, irrige oder täu- schende Mittheilungen, blinde Nachahmung u. s. w. [12]haben den Aber- glauben erzeugt und verbreitet. Wenn ein Versuch gemacht werden sollte, den Aberglauben zu klassiﬁciren, so wäre das äußerst schwierig, weil Klassen, Gattungen und Arten ein geregeltes Denken voraussetzen, während der Aberglaube sich eben gegen die Anwendung des allgemeinen Denkgesetzes sträubt. Es dürfte leichter sein, die Natio- nalität eines Aberglaubens zu erforschen, als ein Individuum aufzu- ﬁnden, bei welchem ein Aberglaube zuerst vorkommt, insbesondere, da man sich gerne als Autorität auf Personen des Alterthums, namentlich biblische, beruft. Darum ist auch die historische Darstellung nur nach großen Gruppen möglich, wie z. B. in Schindler’s Aberglauben, Breslau 1859, und in Maury, La Magie etc. (1860). Wenn es sich darum handelt, gewissermaßen die Elemente aufzusuchen, aus welchen sich die bunten Vorstellungen des Aberglaubens zusammensetzen, so dürften wir das Zeichendeuten als das Charak- teristische erkennen. Es giebt natürliche und künstliche Zeichen; der Zusammenhang des natürlichen Zeichens mit dem Bezeichneten liegt im Dinge selbst; der Zusammenhang des künstlichen Zeichens mit dem Bezeichneten liegt im Menschen. Daher kann man etwas als Zei- chen ansehen, was in der That kein Zeichen ist. So gilt z. B. mit dem linken Bein aufstehen als Zeichen eines unglücklichen Tages, denn links und linkisch und ungeschickt und rechts, recht und richtig sind verwandte Begriffe, freilich nur darum, weil die Menschen sich gewöhnt haben, sich vorzugsweise einer Hand, der rechten, zu bedienen, wor- über in der Pädagogik die Acten noch nicht abgeschlossen sind. Wie wenig davon wirklich in der Natur liegt, wie Mancher glaubt, geht daraus hervor, daß man bei uns erst in neuester Zeit angefangen hat, die Gabel nach englischer Weise nur mit der Linken zu gebrauchen. Den weitesten Spielraum hat daher der Aberglaube gerade [13]in dem Bereich, in welchem das natürliche Gedächtniß keinen Anhalts- punkt bietet, in Namen und noch mehr in Zahlen.

Nomen et omen ist ein altes Sprichwort, d. h. der Name hat eine Vorbe- deutung. Der Ursprung der Namen war freilich ihre Bedeutung, und es mochte manches Kind einen Namen erhalten, den ein Wunsch für seine Zukunft dictirte, wie Felix, der Glückliche, Vita (Chajjim), d. h. Leben, das ein jüdisches, von Kleinpaul mißdeutetes Kosewort geworden ist, und solche Namen kommen häufig vor, insbesondere, wenn vorher Kinder gestorben waren. Aber nachdem die Sitte sehr der aberglaube 577 früh die Uebertragung der Namen von Person auf Person eingeführt hatte, von Verwandten und Pathen, die leider nicht ihre guten Eigen- schaften zum Pathengeschenk machen können, seitdem ist zwischen Namen und Person keine andere Beziehung als eine rein zufällige. Allein der Aberglaube ist der sinnreichste Erfinder; er zerlegt die Namen und die Buchstaben, die für sich gar nichts bedeuten und darum der Willkür freien Spielraum lassen, wie die Zahlen; in den Wahrsagebüchern, Loosbüchern und dergl. ist der Buchstabe aber nichts weiter als eine Zahl, denn nur seine Stelle im Alphabet gilt in dieser oder jener Anwendung, und öfter wird der Buchstabe selbst geradezu in seinem alten Zahlwerth im Hebräischen oder Griechi- schen aufgefaßt – ganz à la Reventlow,2 nur mit dem Unterschied, daß bei der Mnemotechnik Zeit erspart werden soll, während hier ein müßiges Spiel der Phantasie getrieben wird. Es giebt aber eine Klasse von sinnvollen und von sinnlosen oder unverstandenen und mißverstandenen Namen, deren Aussprache schon wunderbare Wirkungen hervorbringen soll; ihre Kenntniß und Anwendung gehört in das Gebiet der Magie, welche angebliche Wis- senschaft oder Kunst ihren Namen von dem orientalischen Stamme der Mager erhielt, wofür man später Magier oder Chaldäer setzte, indem das aus Babylon stammende [14]Zauberwesen durch wirkliche oder vorgebliche Nachkommen jenes Stammes als gutbezahlte und hochgerühmte Erbweisheit im klassischen Alterthum vertreten wurde. Aber auch die heilige Schrift bot den vertriebenen Juden in Babylon den Stoff zur magischen Anwendung in dem sogenannten „unaus- sprechlichen“ Namen des einzigen Gottes, den man in neuerer Zeit durch ein Mißverständniß Jehova aussprach, während die neuesten Gelehrten die vermuthete Aussprache Jahve verbreiten. Der Hohe- priester durfte diesen nur im Tempel am Versöhnungstage ertönen lassen und man legte den geschriebenen Zeichen oder einer beliebi- gen Aussprache desselben außerordentliche Wirkungen bei. Mit dem abgekürzten Gottesnamen sind bekanntlich schon viele althebräische Namen von Personen, welche auf „ jah“ oder „ jahu“ endigen – wie Elijjahu (Elias) und dergl. – zusammengesetzt, sie bezeichnen gewöhn- lich eine Unterordnung unter, oder ein Vertrauen auf Gott, also ein religiöses Verhältniß. Für die Endung „jah“ findet sich auch „el“ (Gott überhaupt), wie z. B. in Gabriel, Michael. Diese letzteren Namen

2 Seine Mnemotechnik hat zu ihrer Zeit großes Aufsehen erregt. 578 moritz steinschneider sind aber auch schon auf Engel übergegangen, welche allmählich die Vermittelung Gottes mit den Menschen übernahmen. Gottesnamen blieben Zeichen des einen Wesens; Engelnamen, deren Inschrift auf Amuleten, oder deren Aussprache bei gewissen Gelegenheiten die Wirkungen der Gottesnamen übernahmen, konnten bis ins Unendli- che vermehrt werden, ohne den Gottesglauben zu schädigen. Aus den 22 Consonanten der hebräischen Schrift, abgesehen von den meistens nicht geschriebenen Vokalzeichen, ließen sich Hunderte von wunder- wirkenden Engelnamen erfinden, wie sie neuerlich Herr M. Schwab in einem der Pariser Akademie überreichten Mémoire aus verschiedenen Quellen alphabetisch geordnet hat. Die Zauberkunst knüpfte an Sprache und Schrift, wie an andere Mittel, wunderbare Wirkungen, welche Pfleiderer so zu-[15]sammenfaßt: „Der Soldat wird stich- und kugelfest, das Mädchen bekommt unwi- derstehlichen Liebesreiz, der Habsüchtige weiß Schätze zu graben, der neidische Feind, die boshafte Nachbarin weiß des Nachbars Haus anzuzünden, auf des Nachbars Acker den Hagelschlag herabzube- schwören, den Kühen der Nachbarin die Milch zu entziehen, das eheliche Glück des feindlichen Hauses empfindlich zu stören, das gedeihende Kind hinsiechen zu machen, ja, selbst plötzlichen Tod durch geheimnißvolle Zauberwirkung aus der Ferne zu veranlassen.“ Die Mantik oder Wahrsagerei zog aus sinnlichen Erscheinungen ihre Vorbedeutungen. Auf mancher Seite alter Handschriften findet man Punkte und Zeichen, welche die Anwendung der Geomantie oder „Punktirkunst“ bezeugen. Den Ursprung der Geomantie haben wir, wie schon das Wort besagt, in der Erde zu suchen, d. h. im Sande, in einer tropischen Gegend, wo die Eintönigkeit des Sandes den Men- schen den bequemsten Stoff zur Befriedigung der Phantasie darbietet. „Im Sand verzeichnen“ ist ein stehendes Bild für den oberflächli- chen, schnell vergehenden Eindruck im Gegensatze zum „Eingra- ben in Stein“ für die unverlöschlichen Erinnerungen. Und doch hat der ewige Trieb des Menschen zur Erforschung der Wechselfälle des Lebens oder der Bedingungen für sein eigenes Thun, wie es scheint, schon in den ältesten Zeiten auf den Sand geführt. Im Arabischen heißt die Geomantie „Sandwissenschaft“ (Ilm al-Raml, Psammoman- tik); die Pariser arabische Handschrift 2631 nennt als Begründung dieser Wissenschaft den Propheten Idris, das ist der arabische Name für den biblischen Henoch, der überhaupt, wie der griechische Merkur, als Erfinder aller Künste und Wissenschaften galt, deren Ursprung unbekannt war. Die arabischen Schriftsteller, welche diese vermeintliche Wissenschaft behandeln, sind hauptsächlich Afrikaner; der aberglaube 579 für die geomantischen Figuren sind eigene Benennungen in der Sprache [16]Der Berben vorhanden und in Madagaskar giebt es eine Mantik oder Art von Orakel, welche „Skidy“ heißt. In diesem Namen erkannte ich das arabische Wort „Schakl“ (Figur), wie auch die Namen der einzelnen Figuren unzweifelhaft den arabischen Ursprung erkennen lassen.3 Den Ursprung dieser Mantik haben wir uns vielleicht in folgender Weise zu denken. Ein Beduine der Wüste bemerkte, daß sein Wan- derstab Grübchen im Sande zurückließ, welche er als vorbedeutend betrachte, – wie ja der Naturmensch so leicht in jeder Erscheinung, wofür er kein Gesetz kennt, eine Vorbedeutung sieht: ob er mit dem rechten Fuß aufsteht oder linken, ob Wolken und Vögel zu seiner Rechten oder zu seiner Linken fliegen. Bei wiederholter Betrachtung der Sandgrübchen ergab sich ein gewissermaßen geometrisches Ver- hältniß in der Stellung derselben zu einander, welche zu Punkten zusammenschrumpften, nämlich neben oder über einander. Ob eine Art systematischer Zusammenziehung von Punkten zu Figuren im Kopfe eines Priesters oder Wahrsagers sich vollzog, mag dahingestellt bleiben. Die Combination konnte nicht bis ins Unendliche getrieben werden; zwei Reihen in der Höhe und zwei in der Breite ergaben zu wenig Abwechselung für die verschiedenen vorausgesetzten Figuren, man beschränkte sich aber auf vier Punkte in der Höhe – welche eigentlich auf der Fläche des Bodens den Fortschritt bezeichnet – und begnügte sich mit zwei Punkten in der Breite, – ein einziger gäbe zu wenig Abwechselung. Die Setzung von einzigen Punkten in die Mitte der Breite ist wahrscheinlich erst eine jüngere Entwickelung. So kam man zur Aufstellung von sechzehn Figuren, welche hier im Anhang4 mit den in lateinischen Werken vorkommenden Benennungen wieder- geben sind. Diese Anordnung scheint eine verhältnißmäßig alte und, soweit bekannt, die einzige, die den Schriften in arabischer Sprache und den aus ihnen geflossenen[17] lateinischen und neuhebräischen Bearbei- tungen, etwa seit dem zwölften Jahrhundert, zu Grunde liegen. Es ist nicht wahrscheinlich, daß diese auf Combination beruhende Fixirung sich schon vollzog, als die Sandkunst noch in ihrer Wiege, dem Sande, lag. Wüstenbewohner, welche ihren Wohnort wechselten,

3 „Die Skidy oder geomantischen Figuren,“ in Zeitschrift der Deutsch. Morgenl. Gesellschaft Bd. 31, 1877, S. 762–765, mit einer Tafel; s. Anhang zum gegenwärtigen Vortrag. 4 Auf die Wiedergabe dieses Anhangs wird in dem vorliegenden Nachdruck aus technischen Gründen verzichtet; die Herausgeber. 580 moritz steinschneider oder Wüstenreisende, welche das Sandorakel kennen gelernt hatten, fühlten das Bedürfniß, das Orakel in anderer Weise zu ermöglichen, und der nächste Schritt vom Loch im Sande war das Hinwerfen von Sandkörnchen oder kleinen Steinchen (worüber ein Zeugniß eines Aegypters aus dem zwölften Jahrhundert vorliegt), aus welchen die Figuren ganz in derselben Weise gestaltet wurden, wie aus den Löchel- chen im Sande. Als später die Schreibekunst für die Darstellung alles Vorzustellenden sich hergab, da trat der einfachste Bestandtheil derselben, zugleich der für die Geomantie geeignetste, der Punkt, an die Stelle von Sand und Stein. Die Sandkunst wurde „Punktirkunst“, indem man gedankenlos Punkte auf Papier warf. Die geomantischen Figuren bildeten das Material für Wahrsagun- gen, wurden aber erst zu einem literarisch bearbeiteten System durch eine ganz willkürliche Verbindung mit den Gestirnen, ja, man unterschied, wie diese, auch die Figuren: männliche und weibliche. Diese Uebertragung des Geschlechtsunterschiedes nicht bloß auf Pﬂanzen – männliche und weibliche Palme kennt schon das Alterthum – , sondern auch auf Metalle und verschiedenartige Dinge, kennzeichnet allerlei Aberglauben. Die Geomantie lebt noch oder spukt noch in der Nähe von „Spree-Athen“. Bei Oehmigke in Neu-Ruppin erschien, wahrscheinlich 1857, ein „Neuestes Punktirbuch oder die Kunst, die Zukunft untrüglich vorher zu erfahren. Aus dem Arabischen (!) von U. E.“ (22 Seiten.)5 Die Geomatie beruht auf der Voraussetzung eines Zu-[18]sammen- hanges zwischen einer zufälligen, fast unbewußten Thätigkeit des Menschen mit seiner Zukunft. In der Geomantie sind es Figuren, welche entscheiden, in anderen Arten der Mantik sind es andere Mittel, durch welche wir Zukünftiges erfahren, oder nach welchen wir unsere Handlungen und Thätigkeiten einrichten. Das führt uns auf den Begriff es Looses, dessen Ursprung über- haupt nicht ganz sicher ist. In den alten religiösen Urkunden wird das Loos, „geworfen“ oder „gezogen“ um über Erbe und Antheil, Schuld oder Unschuld, Tod und Leben zu entscheiden, als ein Gottesurt- heil angesehen. Es ist aber auch möglich, daß vor oder neben dieser

5 Während der Correctur dieses Vortrags ﬁnde ich auf der R. Bibliothek in Berlin folgendes Buch: „Das große Punktirbuch oder Enthüllung der Zukunft, 930 wahr- sagende Schicksalsantworten von einer 77jährigen Zigeunerin aus Egypten.“ Berlin, A. Weichert (1899, 96 S.). – Giebt es für solche Reklame keine „Verletzung des Schamgefühls“? der aberglaube 581 religiösen Auffassung, aus welcher sich ein privilegirtes Tempel- und Priesterorakel entwickeln konnte, auch der Begriff und die Anwen- dung des Looses als Entscheidung des Zufalls, in Ermangelung eines entscheidenden Zeichens oder Motivs, zur Geltung kommen konnte. Lehrt uns doch die tägliche Erfahrung, daß trotz aller religiösen und geistbildenden Erziehung unsere Vermuthungen – die man auch mit dem täuschenden Namen Ahnungen umkleidet – und unsere Entschlüsse, ja, selbst ernste Unternehmungen vom Zufall abhängig gemacht werden. Ja, was ist denn die Lotterie, die von deutschen Puristen „Looserei“ genannt werden müßte? Sie ist eine Art von „Hazard“ – d. h. Zufallsspiel, welches den Gewinn an die Stelle des Verdienstes setzt, welches den Bürgern verboten, aber von der Regie- rung als sichere Einnahmequelle beibehalten wird, um der angeblichen Spielsucht zu genügen, die ebenso unvertilgbar wie der Krieg sein soll, den man zur Kunst entwickeln möchte, dessen Entscheidung ebenfalls als ein Gottesurtheil angesehen und erﬂeht wird, allerdings von beiden streitenden Seiten! Man hat die Schäden der Lotterie in Abhandlungen und Reden von allen Seiten, insbesodere in Beziehung auf Sittlichkeit und Wohl-[19]stand, mehr als genügend aufgedeckt; neben diesen praktischen Rücksichten bietet die hochwichtige Frage eine culturelle Seite, welche hierher gehört. Die Lotterie ist, wie jede Entscheidung durch das Loos, eine nahrungsreiche Amme des Aber- glaubens, worüber es an Belegen und lehrreichen Anekdoten nicht fehlen wird; insbesondere ist es die sogenannte, unter Anderem in Oesterreich noch bestehende Zahlenlotterie, in welcher der Spielende 1–5 Ziffern von 90 wählen darf. Diese Auswahl von an sich gleich- gültigen Ziffern gewährt dem Aberglauben den weitesten Spielraum. Giebt es doch von frommen Kreisen ausgehende Anweisungen dafür, z. B. welche Ziffer jeder Traum bedeute. Es mag hier ein Fall erzählt werden, für dessen Wahrheit und Wirklichkeit ich einstehen kann. Ein jüdischer Knabe träumte, dass er drei Ziffern, eine sogenannte „Terno“, in die Lotterie gesetzt habe, worunter eine die Zahl 100 war, für die also eine andere gewählt werden mußte. Man setzte dafür 77, weil das hebräische Wort Mazzal (Glück), wenn man die drei Consonanten nach ihrer Bedeutung als Ziffern zählt, (40 + 7 + 30) = 77 ausmacht. Die Mutter des Knaben setzte die drei Zahlen, und die Ziehung ergab, daß unter den fünf gezogenen Zahlen sich in der That 77 fand, aber auch nur 77; die anderen zwei geträumten Ziffern waren nicht gezogen, und der Einsatz war verloren. Der Knabe ist ein alter Mann geworden, aber er hat nie selbst an irgend einer Verloosung 582 moritz steinschneider

Antheil genommen, oder, wie man sich auszudrücken pflegt, dem Glück niemals die Thür geöffnet, – weil er der Ansicht ist, daß der Glaube an den Erfolg eines vom Zufall abhängigen Mittels entweder von einem Aberglauben herstamme, oder zu einem Aberglauben führe. Die „heitern und die schwarzen Loose in der Zukunft Schooße“ müssen mit Kenntniß und Verstand gezogen oder vermieden werden. Wieviel Lotteriespieler, besonders unter den unglücklichen, welche die Mehrzahl [20]bilden, denken an ein Gottesurtheil? Es ist daher sehr wohl denkbar, daß der heidnische Araber sein Orakel, welches in Loospfeilen bestand, ohne Rücksicht auf seinen Götzen erfunden hat, wie etwa ein heutiges Gretchen beim Zerpflücken einer Blume mit dem Orakelspruch: „Er liebt mich! Er liebt mich nicht!“ oder eine Mutter beim Abzählen der Rockknöpfe ihrer Söhnchens, um den künftigen Stand oder Erwerbszweig desselben zu erfahren, nicht im Entferntesten an eine himmlische Offenbarung denkt. Es ist ja eben das Charakteristische des natürlichen Aberglaubens, an Zeichen zu glauben, welche keine sind, und einen Zusammenhang zu finden, wo kein solcher vorhanden ist. Die Verstandesfragen: warum? wieso? sind für den einfältigen Aberglauben ein nie begehrter Luxus. So wird denn das Mittel zur Auffindung des begehrten Orakels immer leichter und zugänglicher und verbreiteter, und es entsteht schon im Mittelalter die noch immer nicht versiegende Flut von Literatur, die man Loosbücher nennt. Auch diese Kinder des Aberglaubens sind nicht ohne Einfluß edlerer Empfindungen geblieben; allmählich hat der Schönheitssinn in ihnen Eingang gefunden, die Kunst sie vielseitig ausgeschmückt, bis die Illustration Selbstzweck, der Text Nebensache wurde, der Zeichner und Maler den Schreiber in den Hintergrund schob. Eigentliche Loosbücher mit verschiedenem Inhalt und verschieden- artiger Anordnung entstanden im Mittelalter unter den Anhängern der drei sogenannten herrschenden Religionen unter eigenthümlichen Einflüssen, aber durch den Wechselverkehr der Bekenner, namentlich seit den Kreuzzügen, einander sich nähernd und durch Uebersetzun- gen in einander aufgehend. Die neueste Zeit brachte Belehrungen von Fachmännern aus den drei Literaturgebieten, welche theilweise den nachfolgenden Bemerkungen als Quelle dienten.6

6 Sotzmann, Die Loosbücher des Mittelalters, in der Zeitschrift Serapeum, Leipzig 1860; G. Flügel, Die Loosbücher der Muhammedaner, in den Berichten der der aberglaube 583

Unter eigentlichen Loosbüchern verstehe ich diejenigen Bücher, [21]welche zum Zwecke der Anwendung Auskünfte über Zukünftiges, oder praktische Anweisungen in unsicheren Angelegenheiten des Lebens, entweder in unzweifelhafter Entscheidung oder in orakelhafter Dunkelheit ertheilen, gewöhnlich in Form von gezählten Antworten auf bestimmte Fragen, meistens in verschiedenen Combinationen, so daß zur Ermittelung der Antwort es eines Actes des Fragenden oder eines dazu Beauftragten bedarf. Das gewöhnliche Mittel ist eine Anzahl von Würfeln. Um die Spannung des Fragenden zu erhöhen, wird er nicht gleich zur eigentlichen Antwort des Orakels geschickt, sondern zu einer oder mehreren Zwischenﬁguren, meist von Men- schen (wie Patriarchen, Propheten, Heiligen, Königen, Weisen) oder Thieren von verschiedenen Gattungen oder Sternbildern, wiederum mit der Astrologie in Verbindung tretend. Die Ausführung dieser Bilder machte die Loosbücher zum Gegenstande des Luxus und der Kunst und hiermit zu einem Mittel für die Culturgeschichte der Völ- ker und die Charakteristik von Nationalitäten; so z. B. erkennt man in gewissen Frivolitäten den französischen Ursprung; Heiligenbilder kennzeichnen Deutschlands Erzeugnisse. Diesen Vermittlern eines heidnischen Aberglaubens fehlt es selten an einer frommen Einleitung, worin der Fragende eindringlich ermahnt wird, das Orakel nur mit reiner Gesinnung und in gottge- fälliger Absicht zu befragen, unter Androhung gefährlicher Folgen für den Fall des Unglaubens oder unlauterer Absichten. Einer solchen Anweisung folgt dann nicht selten ein in entsprechender Weise abge- faßtes, an Gott gerichtetes Gebet um Gewährung einer wahrhaften, zutreffenden Antwort. Die Loosbücher werden im Laufe der Zeit, wie alle solche Kin- der des Aberglaubens, mit hervorragenden Namen ihrer angeblichen Erﬁnder oder Verfasser versehen, je nach der Nationalität oder irgend einer anderen Rücksicht; das namenlose Kind adoptirt einen Vater. Ein seltsames Beispiel mag hier genügen.

K. sächsischen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften 1861, Leipzig 1862; M. Steinschneider, Loosbücher, in der Zeitschrift Hebräische Bibliographie, Jahrg. VI, 1863, S. 120 ff., und in dem Werke: Die hebräischen Uebersetzungen des Mittelalters, Berlin 1893, S. 867 ff.; vergl. auch L. Löw, Ueber talmudische Mantik, in der Zeitschrift Ben Chananja, Szegedin 1867, Nr. 18, S. 329. 584 moritz steinschneider

[22]Aus einem hebräischen Loosbuch des Mittelalters von unbekann- tem Redacteur – es ist ja mehr eine Auswahl von vorhandenem Stoffe, als eine Erfindung von neuem – hat H. Mai in seinem Catalog der Handschriften des Bücherfreundes Zachar. Conr. Von Uffenbach in Frankfurt a. M. die Einleitung und 90 Antworten in lateinischer Uebersetzung abgedruckt. Die Handschrift ist jetzt in Hamburg, Nr. 325. Dieses Loosbuch ist fast unverändert in diesem Jahrhundert in Czernowitz (Bukowina) in der Druckerei von R. Eckhart ohne Jah- resangabe herausgegeben worden. Die Auffindung der Antworten geschieht einfach durch zufälliges Handauflegen; daher rühmt die Ein- leitung das hier erschlossene große „Geheimniß, ohne Loos und ohne Rechnung und ohne Mühe“ zum Ziele zu gelangen. Diese Worte ver- rathen die Jugend der Erfindung, welche die weitläufige Aufsuchung der Antworten in den älteren Loosbüchern beseitigt. Das hindert den Redacteur nicht, vorzugeben, das Machwerkchen sei vor sehr alten Zeiten in Alexandria (andere Handschriften lasen: „Exedra“, Halle) verborgen gehalten, nach einem angeordneten Fasttag entdeckt und wieder geheim gehalten worden. Eine einzige der Handschriften hat uns glücklicher Weise den Namen des Verfassers dieses Loosbuches erhalten, d. h. – erfunden: Es ist Achitofel ha-Giloni – der schlaue Mitverschworene Absalom’s (2.Sam. C. 15–17), dessen Namen „Bru- der der Thorheit“ an Mephistopheles erinnert, in dessen Charakter Paulus Cassel ein Vorbild des Judas Ischariot entdeckte, während ein jüdischer Gelehrter des sechzehnten Jahrhunderts in einem Buche mit Abbildungen alter Philosophen den Achitofel neben dem Psalmendich- ter Asaph als Schüler des Sokrates gefunden hat. Aberglaube, Legende und Geschichtsverwirrung arbeiten einander in die Hände: in einem weitläufigen Verzeichniß von angeblichen Chemikern oder Alche- misten, herausgegeben von Borellus (1656), findet man Namen von Männern aller [23]Nationen, die existirt oder auch nicht existirt haben.7 Es wird also Niemand wundern, wenn ein anderes Loosbuch, „Die 70 Alten“, die angeblichen Uebersetzer des Alten Testamentes ins Griechische als Urheber bezeichnet. Eine Combination von 256 Fra- gen mit astrologischen Bestimmungen der Planetenherrschaft in den 7 Wochentagen, den 12 Bildern des Zodiak und den Engelnamen,

7 In der Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländ. Gesellschaft, Bd. 50, S. 359–366, ist eine Anzahl solcher Namen auf ihren Ursprung zurückgeführt. der aberglaube 585 welche die Planeten und den Zodiak beherrschen, ist in hebräischer Sprache unter dem wahrscheinlich untergeschobenen Namen des berühmten Kabbalisten Chajjim Vital (gestorben 1620) in Jerusalem 1863 mit dem Titel „Heiliges Loos“ ausgestattet worden. Und doch sind die eigentlichen Loosbücher mit ihren willkürlich nach einem praktischen Zweck erfundenen Fragen und Antworten das späte Erzeugniß einer literarischen Zeit. Hoch hinauf reicht aber der Gebrauch heiliger oder volksthümlich gewordener Bücher zum Zweck von Orakeln oder Vorzeichen. Schon vor den Evangelisten ließen sich jüdische Lehrer von den Kindern Bibelverse hersagen, welche sie als Vorbedeutungen auffaßten. Als die Abschriften der Bibel eine größere Verbreitung fanden, schlug man ein Buch zufällig auf, insbesondere den Pentateuch oder die Psalmen, welche in Folge des ritualen Gebrauchs einer größeren Vervielfältigung gewürdigt wurden, und bedeckte mit einem Finger die Stelle, aus welcher die Entscheidung über irgend eine Angelegenheit des Lebens, wichtige wie unwichtige, sich ergeben mußte. Hebräische Psalmen mit der „Anwendung“ (Schimmusch), welche bis in die neueste Zeit aufgelegt worden sind, geben einige Anweisungen dazu, wohl auch ein entspre- chendes Gebet. In ähnlicher Weise ist bei den Muhammedanern der Koran, bei Christen das Neue Testament oder auch die ganze Bibel zum bequemen Loosbuch geworden. Der berühmte jüdische Gesetzlehrer Maimonides (gestorben in Aegypten 1204), ein radikaler Gegner alles[24] Aberglaubens, ﬁndet es unangemessen, wenn auch nicht strafbar, den Pentateuch als Orakel für Nichtjuden zu öffnen, woraus zu ersehen ist, wie der Aberglaube in seinen Mitteln weniger exclusiv war, als der Fanatismus, der die Bücher fremder Religionen am liebsten verbrannte. Der Gesetzcodex des Josef Karo (gestorben 1575 in Palästina), welcher noch heute für orthodoxe Juden maßge- bend ist, verbietet die praktische Anwendung der Astrologie, der Stun- denwählerei, der Loose überhaupt, Zauberei und Magie und dergl. Man kann nicht behaupten, daß in der strengen Beobachtung eines solchen heilsamen Verbots in den verschiedenen Religionen sich die Orthodoxie auszeichne. Den Begriff des Aberglaubens geschichtlich zu entwickeln, das ist keine Aufgabe eines kurzen Vortrages. Sehen wir uns nach einem anderen Wege um, dem Wesen des Aberglaubens näher zu kommen. 586 moritz steinschneider

Verwandte Begriffe von Aberglaube sind Irrthum, Wahn, Vorurt- heil, sämmtlich Gegensätze der Wahrheit und der Richtigkeit des Den- kens. Irrthum ist überall, wo der Mensch die Wahrheit nicht aufgefaßt hat, sei es durch die Sinne oder mit dem Verstande; aus Irrthümern entsteht manchmal Aberglaube. Zu Zeiten ﬁndet man die Erde mit einem röthlichen Stoffe bedeckt, welchen man für Blut hielt; daraus entstand der Aberglaube des Blutregens. Häuﬁger ist es umgekehrt; der Irrthum entsteht aus Aberglauben; der Abergläubische sieht und hört und urtheilt nur durch die trübe Brille seines Aberglaubens; so sieht die Magd im Blei am Sylvesterabend den Nagel zu ihrem Sarge oder in der hingeworfenen Apfelschale den Anfangsbuchstaben ihres Liebhabers. Irren ist menschlich und daher verzeihlich, d. h. das menschliche Denken ist unvoll-[25]kommen und fehlt ohne Schuld. Auch Aberglaube ist menschlich und verzeihlich, so lange er nicht eigensinnig festgehalten wird und der Vernunft Hohn spricht; thut er dies, so ist er auch schon an der Grenze des Wahns. Schlimmer als der Irrthum ist der Wahn, denn es giebt einen „schö- nen Wahn“, aber keinen schönen Irrthum; darum ist der Wahn ver- führerisch und gefährlich. „Das Schrecklichste der Schrecken, das ist der Mensch in seinem Wahn.“ Den Irrthum suchen wir meistens ein- zusehen und geben ihn auf, aber am Wahne halten wir fest, weil er ein Irrthum ist, der uns lieb geworden, ein fortgesetztes Irren. Am meisten verbinden sich mit dem Wahne auch Wünsche und Bestrebungen für die Zukunft, und es giebt Menschen, die in dem Wahne leben, die ganze Welt ändern zu können. Irrthum und Aberglaube sind oft unthätig und unschädlich, der Wahn ruht nicht und führt sein eigenes Ende herbei; dann trifft das Wort des Dichters ein: „Der Wahn ist kurz, die Reu ist lang.“ Der Aberglaube erzeugt aber den Wahn, sobald er aus dem Innern des Menschen hervorbricht, sobald der irrige Glaube, von seiner Herrschaft in uns nicht befriedigt, diese Herrschaft über Andere ausbreiten will, – herrschender und herrschsüchtiger Aberglaube ist Wahn und treibt zu wahnsinnigen Handlungen. Das Vorurtheil ist nicht, wie der Irrthum, eine unvollkommene Erkenntniß der Dinge und Erscheinungen, ein bloßer Mangel, sondern eine positive Krankheit, ein Aftergebilde in der Thätigkeit unseres Verstandes selbst, welches, wie manche Krankheiten des Auges, den Dingen eine andere Gestalt und Farbe giebt. Der gesunde Ver- stand bildet sein Urtheil nach den Dingen, das Vorurtheil bildet sich der aberglaube 587

willkürliche und falsche Regeln und beurtheilt die Dinge vor ihrer Prüfung; das Vorurtheil bildet seine Regeln an zu wenigen oder irri- gen Beispielen und macht Schlüsse aus falschen Voraussetzungen. Das Kind des [26]Mohren kennt als Menschen nur Schwarze, und der erste Weiße, den es sieht, ist ihm ein Affe oder Teufel. Das Vorurtheil ist der erstgeborene Sohn des Aberglaubens, denn der Abergläubische hat seine Urtheilskraft gefangen gegeben: er traut den Dingen und Men- schen einmal zu viel, ein anderes Mal zu wenig, und wenn er hinter die Wahrheit kommt, so ist das immer nur eine Ausnahme gewesen; die Regel, die er sich gemacht, bleibt unerschütterlich. Die Zähig- keit ist ebenfalls ein hervorstehendes Zeichen des Aberglaubens, – das lehrt uns leider seine allzu lange Geschichte. Diese Eigenschaft malt Schiller so lebendig in einer berühmten Stelle im Wallenstein. Nach- dem dieser seine tiefste Ueberzeugung von dem Einfluß der Sterne in der Hoffnung ausgesprochen, seine ungläubigen Freunde zu bekehren, und diese ihm nüchtern widersprochen, ruft er in bitterem Tone aus: „Seid ihr nicht wie die Weiber, die immer wiederkommen auf ihr altes Wort, nachdem Vernunft gepredigt worden stundenlang.“ Die Vernunft war ja auf seiner Seite! Aberglaube und Vorurtheil haben das mit einander gemein, daß sie einen Zusammenhang voraussetzen, wo in der Wirklichkeit keiner ist. Wenn man Jemand für einen Schelm hält, weil er rothe Haare hat, so ist das Vorurtheil; wenn man sonst Jemand für einen Schelm gehalten hat, weil er unter der Herrschaft des Planeten Merkur geboren ist, so ist das Aberglaube. Der wichtigste Unterschied zwischen Vorurtheil und Aberglaube ist der, daß Aberglaube meist von Anderen über- nommen, das Vorturtheil häufig aus uns selbst erzeugt wird. Darum schämen wir uns leichter des Aberglaubens, wie eines Findelkindes, und thun uns etwas zu gute auf Vorurtheile, die wir selbst gezeugt und groß gezogen. Der Aberglaube ist der wirklich ewige Jude, der, in der Welt herumwandernd, nicht sterben kann; das Vorurtheil ist „ewig jung“, wie seine Mutter, die Phantasie, [27]es wird ja alle Tage neu geboren. Aberglauben kurirt man durch Aufklärung über die Natur der Dinge, Vorurtheile durch Aufklärung über uns selbst und die Natur unseres Verstandes; da aber Selbstkenntniß das Schwerste ist, so wird das Vorurtheil noch lange bestehen, wenn der Aberglaube überwunden ist. Die Betrachtung der verwandten Begriffe hat uns hiermit auf einige wesentliche Eigenschaften des Aberglaubens geführt. Der Aberglaube legt den Erscheinungen unrichtige Ursachen unter und bildet sich 588 moritz steinschneider falsche Gesetze, an welchen er festhält, oder kürzer: der Aberglaube sieht einen Zusammenhang, wo keiner ist, und warum? weil er den wirklichen Zusammenhang nicht kennt. Darum ist der größte Feind des Aberglaubens die Naturwissenschaft, welche uns die wirklichen Gesetze der Natur lehrt, und der natürliche Aberglaube nimmt im Allgemeinen in demselben Maaße ab, als die Naturwissenschaft volk- sthümlich und gemeinverständlich wird. Der natürliche Aberglaube hat nämlich seinen Ursprung in dem Volke, welches die sinnlichen Wahrnehmungen ohne Nachdenken Erfahrungen nennt. Für allen Spuk und Unsinn hat man sich auf solche „Erfahrungen“ berufen. Wer hat in unserem aufgeklärten Zeitalter nicht erfahren, daß Tische tan- zen, ohne gestoßen zu werden? Wenn aber Erfahrung nichts anderes wäre, als die Behauptung, etwas mit seinem Sinne wahrgenommen zu haben, dann wäre sie die gefährlichste Feindin des Verstandes; denn unsere Sinne täuschen oft und am leichtesten, wenn der Verstand sie nicht beherrscht. Die Erfahrung ist vielmehr die Erkenntniß, welche hervorgeht aus besonderer Prüfung und Vergleichung dessen, was wir mit unseren Sinnen wahrgenommen zu haben glauben. Man kann viel erlebt und wenig erfahren haben, – ein erfahrener Mann ist nicht immer ein gelehrter, aber stets ein weiser; denn erfahren heißt lernen und beachten. Aber auch das Bereich der Natur ist ein unendlich großes, [28]und die Arbeit, ihre Gesetze zu erforschen, eine lange. Es gab und giebt stets Erscheinungen, deren Gesetze und Ursachen noch zu erforschen sind. So z. B. sind die Witterungsverhältnisse von der zusammenge- setzten Art, daher die Erkenntniß ihrer Gesetze sehr schwierig. Das Unbegriffene ist darum noch kein Unbegreifliches. Das Unbegriffene ist aber nicht bloß der Boden für Charlatanerie und Dummheit, sondern auch ein Anhaltspunkt für diejenigen, welche der Vernunft überhaupt zu enge Schranken anweisen und den künstlichen und systematischen Aberglauben befördern. Diejenigen nämlich, welche alle abergläubischen Wissenschaften und Künste, Magie und Astrolo- gie, Zauberei und Wahrsagerei von jeher wissenschaftlich vertheidigen wollten, haben sich stets auf dunkle Partien und auffallende Erschei- nungen berufen, z. B. die Anziehungskraft des Magnets. Im Mittelalter glaubte man an vier Arten des Magnets, nämlich für die Anziehung von Silber, Gold, Eisen und Glas, und das lehrte man unter dem Namen des Aristoteles, oder man berief sich auf sogenannte sympathetische Mittel oder geheime Kräfte. Das Alles geschieht auch noch heute. Die Vertheidiger des sogenannten Hellsehens, welche behaupten, der aberglaube 589 daß man unter Umständen mit dem Nabel – anstatt dem Auge lesen könne, daß Unwissende plötzlich fremde Sprachen verstehen, oder sich ihre eigene Medicin verschreiben, – auch sie berufen sich auf die dunklen Partien der Naturwissenschaften und auf die dunklen Emp- findungen und Gefühle im Menschen selbst. Diese Bestrebungen, den Aberglauben in eine Wissenschaft zu verwandeln, den Köhlerglauben in ein System zu bringen, nenne ich den künstlichen oder systematischen Aberglauben, denn er hat nicht im Volke seinen Boden; er beruht nicht auf der natürlichen Beschaffenheit unseres Verstandes, auf der Ungeübtheit im Denken und auf den Mangel an Wissen, sondern im Gegentheil, er entstand aus zu vielem Wissen. Er enthält [29]eine willkürliche Herabsetzung des gesunden Menschenverstandes; er ist eine Verkürzung unseres Rechtes, überall nach Gesetzen zu fragen. Es ist ein aristokratisches Gelüst der Gelehrten, etwas für sich zu haben und einen beschränk- ten „Volksverstand“ aufzustellen, wie man in der Politik einen „beschränkten Unterthanenverstand“ erfunden hat; kurz, die aber- gläubische Wissenschaft ist die Diplomatie des Aberglaubens und mußte daher eine geheime Wissenschaft werden. Seit dem Ausgang des Mittelalters erhielt sie den Namen Kabbala,8 d. h. ursprüng- lich Tradition oder Ueberlieferung, weil diese Weisheit von ältesten Zeiten her von Meister zu Jünger überliefert sein sollte, während kein Mensch durch eigenes Nachdenken dazu gelangen könnte. In der That sind die kabbalistischen Schriften aller Zeiten dunkel und unverständlich geblieben und durch Anwendung von Zeichen und Bildern absichtlich in Dunkel gehüllt worden. Die Kabbalisten waren offene oder versteckte Feinde der Naturforschung, indem sie die natürliche Erkenntniß als eine Ueberhebung des menschlichen Ver- standes ansahen, – als ob es nicht eine viel größere Ueberhebung wäre, wenn die Meister der Kabbala Wunder verrichteten oder ein „Menschlein“ – den sogenannten homunculus – erschufen, um damit Unglaubliches zu wirken, freilich immer nur der Meister und die Eingeweihten! Das Wahre und Falsche dieser Anschauung läßt sich auf Eines zurückführen, auf den Unterschied zwischen Ursache und Gesetz. Wahr ist es, daß wir die Ursachen der einfachsten Naturerscheinungen

8 So nannte sich zuerst eine Theosophie, welche im dreizehnten Jahrhundert unter den Juden entstand. 590 moritz steinschneider gar nicht kennen. Wir wissen nicht, warum der Magnet das Eisen mehr anzieht, als jeden anderen Körper; aber wissen wir denn bestimmt, warum die Rose roth und die Lilie weiß ist? Bei dem Forschen nach den Ursachen der Erscheinungen kommen wir an eine Grenze, und wenn wir diese überschreiten und eine weitere Ursache gefunden haben, so kommt die Frage warum? und woher? aufs Neue wieder. Das ist [30]die natürliche Grenze unseres Denkens. Anders ist es mit den Gesetzen. Das Gesetz ist der Ausdruck der Weisheit, und wenn Aristoteles sagte: „Die Natur ist weise, sie thut nichts umsonst,“ so heißt das, in der Natur waltet nicht Zufall und Gedankenlosigkeit, sondern überall ist Gesetz und Regel; die Ausnahme eines Gesetzes sind die Regeln eines anderen Gesetzes; wie die Krankheiten oder Aftergebilde eines Körpers nach den neuesten Anschauungen denselben Regeln der Entwickelung folgen, wie die gesunden Zustände. Ohne Gesetz können wir gar nicht denken; denn regelloses Denken ist Wahnsinn, und selbst der Wahnsinn hat „Methode“. Warum sollten wir dem Forschen nach Naturgesetzen eine Schranke setzen? Auch der Aberglaube stellt Gesetze auf, z. B. wenn man mit dem linken Fuß zuerst aufsteht, so hat man Unglück; nur fragt der natürliche Aber- glaube gar nicht nach einem Grund des Gesetzes, er hat es gehört oder erfahren, und das ist genug; der künstliche Aberglaube macht sich ein geheimnißvolles Sytem und schließt den größten Theil der Menschen von der Fähigkeit aus, Geheimnisse zu verstehen; mit dem Geheimniß verbindet sich aber nicht selten Betrug und Täuschung.

Das dritte Mittel, schwierige Begriffe aufzuklären, ist das sprachliche. Sprechen und Denken sind Zwillingsbrüder; in den alten Spra- chen giebt es nur ein Wort für beides. Daher ist die Bildung des Wortes oft der sicherste Weg, den Begriff zu ﬁnden. Das Wort Aberglauben führt uns auf Glauben, der Aberglaube ist ein Aber des Glaubens. Die deutsche Sprache hat nur zwei Zusammensetzungen mit Aber, Aberglaube und Aberwitz. Aberwitz ist eine Verdrehung des Wit- zes, eine Ausschreitung des Verstandes – Aberglaube eine Verdrehung des Glaubens, eine Ausschreitung des Gefühls.

[31]Aberwitz ist eine Ueberhebung, Aberglaube eine Erniedrigung des menschlichen Geistes. Der eigentliche Aberglaube hängt in der That der aberglaube 591 mit dem eigentlichen Glauben, d. h. mit dem religiösen Glauben so eng zusammen, daß die Bekenner einer Religion oder wenigstens die Religionsgelehrten nicht selten jede andere Religion in Bausch und Bogen als Aberglaube („superstitio“) bezeichnet haben; ja, die Fort- schritte, welche die Erkenntniß des Göttlichen gemacht, die Fort- schritte der Religion selbst vermehrten zum Theil den Aberglauben. Im Morgenlande verehrte man in alten Zeiten mehrere Götter und göttliche Wesen. Da erstand der erste Reformator: Zoroaster; er lehrte, daß es nur zwei oberste Wesen gebe, einen Ursprung des Guten und einen des Bösen; denn das Böse könne nicht von Gott kommen. Er vernichtete den Glauben an jene alten Götter; aber sie wurden zu bösen Geistern herabgesetzt, welche den Menschen ver- führen, und so entstand der Teufel, nach welchem noch der letzte Reformator, Luther, das Tintenfaß geworfen hat. Mit dem Glauben an den leiblichen Teufel hängt aber mancher Aberglaube zusammen, der noch in unseren Tagen nicht überwunden ist. Sie kennen Alle das Sprichwort: „Man soll den Teufel nicht an die Wand malen,“ d. h. man soll nichts Böses sprechen, weil es eintreffen könnte. Dahin gehört auch der Glaube vom Berufen und vom bösen Auge. Ein anderes Beispiel bietet uns die Sterndeuterei. Die Namen der Planeten und der Wochentage sind von griechischen Gottheiten genommen; Mars, Venus, Jupiter wurden in Sterngeister verwandelt, welche noch heute unter verstellten Namen angebetet werden, denen aber auch Jeder Verehrung erweist, welcher Tage und Stunden wählt, ohne zu wissen, daß sie jenen Geistern geheiligt waren, Jeder, der sich „besprechen“ läßt unter Vorkehrungen, welche die Astrologen erfanden; ja, selbst die sogenannten „kritischen Tage“ der Krankheiten sind zunächst ein Ueberrest der [32]Astrologie, welche auch von Hippokrates, dem Begründer der medicinischen Wissenschaft, nicht ganz geleugnet wurden, obwohl die neueste Wissenschaft nachgewiesen hat, daß gewisse Krankheiten in gewissen Tagen sich entscheiden. Wohl hatte schon das mosaische Gesetz jede Art von Aberglauben, Todtenbeschwörung, Tagwählerei, Zeichendeuterei, Wolkenbeobach- tung und Furcht vor den „Zeichen des Himmels“ als Götzendienst und heidnischen Gebrauch streng verboten und mit Todesstrafe belegt; dennoch lernten die Juden im Mittelalter von den Muham- medanern und Christen alle diese Arten des Aberglaubens unter verschiedenen Entstellungen. Ich werde diese Behauptung nur durch ein schlagendes Beispiel beleuchten. In einer alten Handschrift ﬁndet man eine Anweisung, die Fieber zu curiren durch ein Zettelchen oder eine 592 moritz steinschneider

„Kamee“, welche man an Stelle der Gebetriemen legt; die curirende Zauberformel besteht aus den drei Worten: Kaspar, Melchior, Baltha- sar, das sind die heiligen drei Könige! Es bildete sich aber auch eine gefährliche Verständigung des Glaubens mit dem Aberglauben durch den Unterschied der weißen und schwarzen Kunst, des heiligen und unheiligen Zauberkrams, des Spukes im Namen Gottes oder im Namen der bösen Geister. Diese Verbindung war zugleich ein grausamer Krieg des Glaubens gegen den vermeintlichen Aberglau- ben. Wenn die Hexe beim Gottesurtheil sich im Weihwasser einen Augenblick erhielt, so ward sie verbrannt; mit demselben Wasser machte man Panzer stich- und hiebfest, und was heute das persische Insectenpulver nicht vermag, das geschah durch den Bannspruch des Priesters. Wie aber der Volkswitz auch das Heiligste nicht verschont, so bezeichnete man Zauberkunst, Magie und Gaukelei mit dem Worte Hocuspocus, d. h. hoc est corpus, die Worte des katholischen Priesters bei der Wandlung des Abendmahls. Das Gebiet des religiösen Aberglaubens ist ein weites und[33] großes, und ich könnte Ihnen stunden- und jahrelang erzählen, welcher Aber- glaube als Glaube in der Welt verehrt wurde und noch verehrt wird. Aber hier ist es an der Zeit, sich der Worte Lessing´s zu erinnern: „Es sind nicht Alle frei, die ihrer Fesseln spotten.“ Darum ist es so schwer zu ﬁnden, was Aberglaube ist, und ebenso schwer, ihn ganz zu vertrei- ben, weil man den Menschen selten einen Aberglauben ausredet, ohne ihnen dafür einen Glauben aufzureden. Es ist nichts unerquicklicher, als über den Glauben streiten, nichts edler, als seinen eigenen Glauben läutern – vom Aberglauben. INDEX

Aaron ben Elijah of Nicomedia, 15–16, Ibn Aqnin, Joseph. See Joseph Ibn 83, 284, 357–58, 364, 478, 492 Aqnin Aaron ben Joseph, 352 Aquinas, Thomas, 192, 315, 495 Aaron ben Samuel, 352 Ara, David, 431, 447 Abbaye, R., 243n33 Archimedes, 193 Abraham Abulafia, 213, 224–25 Aristotle, 192, 195–96, 210, 285–86, Abraham bar Hiyya, 285, 297, 312, 289, 294–95, 311, 314–15, 481, 496, 440, 465, 475 502, 571, 588 Abraham ben Hisdai, 33 Asher, Adolph, 369n27, 423 Abraham ben Salomon, 375 Asher, R., 199 Abraham Ibn Daud, 192, 279 Ashkenazi, Eliezer, 313 Abraham Ibn Ezra, 27, 71, 192, 218, Auerbach, Auguste, 3, 9, 17n51, 18n57, 285, 291, 312–13, 434, 475, 480 28, 36, 73, 88, 130 Abû Kâmil, 465–66 Augustine, 494 Abulafia, Abraham. See Abraham Autoclitus, 193 Abulafia Avé-Lallemant, Friedrich Christian, Abulafia, Moses. See Moses Abulafia 388n18, 389, 391, 395–96, 400–401, Abu Sahl, 509 403 al-Adani, David, 375 Avempace, 192 Adelard of Bath, 192 Averroes, 192–97, 279, 283–96, 311, Adler, Nathan M., 334 314–16, 494–96, 501, 517n70 Aegidius, 192 Avicenna, 192, 195, 295, 297 Afendopolo, Caleb, 297, 352 Avneri, Zvi, 333 Agnon, Shmuel Yosef, 332, 334, Avraham Ibn Sava, 531 343n15, 345 Azulai, ayyim Joseph David, 158, 334 d’Aguilar, Moses Raphael, 352 Ahasuerus, 317 Bacher, Adolf, 46n34, 413 Ahitophel, 203n40 Bacher, Wilhelm, 31–32, 46n34, 376, Aibo bar Nagri, R., 243n33 380 Akiva, R., 53–54, 219 Baeck, Leo, 322 Alatri, Samuele, 441 Bahya ben Asher, 71 Albalag, Isaac, 285, 288–89, 291–92 Bahya Ibn Pakuda, 31, 192, 199 Albertus Magnus, 192, 480, 494 Bandinel, Bulkeley, 515 Albo, Joseph, 71 Barbier de Meynard, Charles- Albubater, 193 Adrien-Casimir, 210 Alcorsono, Jacob, 193 Bargès, Jean, 371 Alemanno, Yohanan, 226, 313 Bar-Levav, Avriel, ix, xvi, xxvii Alexander of Aphrodisias, 192, 287, 481 Baron, Salo W., 328–29 Alfonso X., 193 Bartolocci, Giulio, 158, 278–79, 294–95, Algamil, Yoseph, 360 368 Almanzi, Giuseppe, 414, 422, 428, 430, Barukh ben Jacob, 473n36 447 Basnage, Jacques, 93 Altmann, Alexander, 68 Bassfreund, Jacob, 538, 540n35 Altschul, Elias, 56–57 al-Batalyawsi (Bataljusi), 192, 228 Amari, Michele, 433, 439 al-Batani, 193 Anatoli, Jacob, 290, 293 Becker, Hans-Jürgen, 539 D’Ancona, Alessandro, 433 Beer, Adolf, 75 594 index

Beer, Michael, 17 Buber, Martin, 345 Beer, Samuele, 441 Büchler, Adolf, 513n51 Beit-Arié, Malachi, 303 Buckle, Henry Thomas, xxv, 170, 174 Belais, Abraham, 76, 413, 478 Busi, Giulio, xxvi Bellermann, Johann Joachim, 251n6, Buxtorf, Johann, 93 254 Benamozegh, Elia, 438 Cahen, Isidore, 71 De Benedetti, Salvador, 438 Cahen, Samuel, 71 Benisch, Abraham, 83 Callenberg, Johann Heinrich, 398 Benjacob, Isaac, 368 Calvör, Caspar, 397–98 Ben-Yami, Hanoch, 79n167 Di Capua, Mordekhai Yaaqove, 431, Benzian, Julius, 302, 369n27, 420, 515 447 Bergmann, Hugo, 347 Caslari, Abraham, 313 Berliner, Abraham, 257, 321–22, 332, Cassel, David, xviii, xxi, 6, 26, 29, 46, 421, 426 48n44, 52–53, 65, 83–84, 96, 100, Bertelli, Timoteo, 439, 447 115–17, 122–26, 131–35, 158, 215 Bialik, Chaim Nachman, 323, 332 Cassel, Paulus Stephanus. See Cassel, Bianchini, Giovanni, 193 Selig Bickell, Gustav, 255 Cassel, Selig, 83, 91, 126, 584 Biram, Arthur, xxvii, 341 Castelfranco, David, 443n116, 447 al-Bitruji, Nur ad-Din, 193 Castelli, David, 438 Bloch, Philip, 229n60, 346 Chrysander, Wilhelm Christian Justus, Blücher, Ephraim Israel, 45, 48–49, 398 51–52 Chrysococca, George, 193 Boccaccio, Giovanni, 32 Chwolson, Daniel, 13, 255–56 Boeckh, Philipp August, 86 Civita, Emanuele, 431, 447 Boethius, 192 Coen Porto, Moisé, 421, 429–30, 447 Boncompagni, Prince Baldassarre, Cohen, Boaz, 327 412–14, 434–36, 439–40, 447, 515 Cohen, Gerson D., 177 Bonﬁl, Reuven, 443 Cohen, Hermann, xvii, 105, 332 Bonﬁls, Immanuel, 476 Cohn, Albert, 71 de Bonnefoy, Paul, 515 Comparetti, Domenico, 433, 437, 448 Bopp, Franz, 365 Comte, Auguste, 174 Borellus, Giovanni Alfonso, 584 Constable, John, 177 Börne, Ludwig, 237 Constantini, Alessandro, 431, 448 Brahe, Tycho, 572 Constantinus Africanus, 480, 502 Brainin, Reuven, xxvii, 340–41, 343, Copernicus, Nicolaus, 575 348 Coronel, Nathan, 307 Brann, Markus, 332–33, 457 Costa, Israel, 438 Brecher, Aharon (Adolf), 40, 74–75 Courbet, Gustave, 177 Brecher, Eliezar (Alois), 46n37 Creizenach, Theodor, 89 Brecher, Gideon, xviii, xx, 5–8, 30, Cureton, William, 371n38 37–80, 235 Brecher, Johann, 39 Daelli, Luigi (Gino), 439, 448 Brecher, Moshe (Moritz), 40 Dain, Alphonse, 260 Breithaupt, Christian David, 370n33 Daniel Ibn Mâshita, 371n39 Bricot, Thomas, 192, 494 Dante, 32 Brill, E. J., 270–71 Dardi of Pise, 193 Brockelman, Carl, 365n11, 382 David ben Jacob Kalonymos, 315 Brockhaus, F. A., 111n8, 117–18, 132 David Ibn Marwan al-Qumisi, 192 Brockhaus, Hermann, 504 Defrémy, Charles, 513–14 Brody, Hayyim, 105 Delitzsch, Franz Julius, xviii, xx, 14–17, Brody, Heinrich, 326–27, 332 34–35, 76, 83, 284, 357–58, 364, Brüll, Nehemias, 75n154 365n11, 478, 492 index 595

Derenbourg, Hartwig, 208, 209n55, 210 Euclid, 193, 291, 466, 521 Derenbourg, Joseph, 86, 372, 513–21, Euting, Julius, 255 524, 528 Eutocius, 193 Dicker, Herman, 309 Ewald, Heinrich, 227 Diderot, Denis, 117 Ezekiel, 161 Dieterici, Friedrich Heinrich, 17 Ibn Ezra, Abraham. See Abraham Ibn Dilthey, Wilhelm, 483 Ezra Diodoros of Sicily, 238–39 Ibn Ezra, Moses. See Moses Ibn Ezra “Do’eg ha-Edomi,” 202–3 Dönitz, Saskia, 544 Fabricius, Johan Albert, 367 Donnolo, Shabbatai, 66, 72, 438, 480, Falaquera, Shem-Tov, 100, 284, 286, 502 295, 297 Dozy, Reinhart P. A., 267, 270 al-Farabi, 192, 195, 199, 285, 315, 376, Drewes, G. W. J., 270 502 Droysen, Johann Gustav, 170, 186 al-Farghani, 193 Dubno, Solomon, 317 Farissol, Jacob ben ayyim, 291 Dugat, Gustave, 210n62, 520n78 Fassel, Hirsch B., xx, 5, 45–46, 48, 51, Dukes, Leopold, xviii, 34, 82–83, 158, 60–61, 90 287, 416, 478 Fenton, Paul, xxvii Duns Scotus, John, 192 Figeac, Petra, xxviii Duran, Simeon, 504–5 Finkelscherer, Israel, 235 Duran, Solomon ben Zemah, 367 Finzi, Mordekhay, 466 Duschak, Hermann, 74n149 Firkovitch, Abraham, 255, 307, 317, Duschak, Moritz Mordechai, 38–40, 79, 354–56, 359–61, 371 74n149 Fischel, Julie, 88 Fleischer, Heinrich Leberecht, xviii, 3, Ebert, Friedrich Adolf, 252, 260 8–20, 24n77, 83, 98, 130–31, 364, Eckhart, R., 584 478, 504 Efros, Israel, 297 Flesch, Josef, 42 Ehrenberg, Philipp, 88, 90 Flügel, Gustav, 368, 495–97 Ehrenberg, Samuel Meyer, 84–85 Fontaine, Resianne, xxvii, 534 Ehrenpreis, Esther, 343n15 Formstecher, Salomon, 68–69, 222 Ehrenpreis, Marcus, xxvii, 342–43 Frakes, Jerold, 385, 396 Ehrenstamm, Veit (Feish), 43–45, 51 Franck, Adolphe, 213, 345 Eichhorn, Johann Gottfried, 94, 370 Frank, Jacob, 43n24 Eisenbeth, Maurice, 378 Fränkel, David, 127 Eisenmenger, Johann Andreas, 531 Frankel, Zacharias, 11, 25, 103, 158, Eisler, Moritz, 46 178, 182, 416 Elbogen, Ismar, xxii, 333 Frankl, P. F., 356 Eliezer ben Shemuel, 541n38 Franz Joseph, Emperor, 74 Eliezer of Kunitz, 7n12 Frederick William IV, 16 Emanuel, Simha, 532 Freidus, Abraham, 309, 332 Emmrich, Hanna, 323 Freimann, Aron, xxvii, 319–37 Engelbert, Hermann, 69–70 Freimann, Israel Meir, 321 Engelhardt, Arndt, xxi Freudenthal, Gad, xxvi, 366 Enslin, Theodor Christian, 367 Freytag, Gustav Wilhelm, 12 Ephraim, Veitel Heine, 104 Fried, Elieser b. David, 7n12 Eppelsheimer, Hans Wilhelm, 336 Friedländer, David, 391–92 Epstein, J. N., 344n18 Friedländer, Michael, 506 Ersch, Johann Samuel, xxi, 3, 25, 28, Friedrich, Carl Wilhelm, 398 110, 118, 126–27, 143, 151, 158, 194, Funkenstein, Amos, xxxi–xxxii 214, 220, 373, 377, 380, 479–80, 492 Fürst, Julius, 123–25, 130, 183, 281n9, Erter, Isaac, 416 296n80, 356, 368 Ettlinger, Jakob, 322 Fürstenthal, Raphael J., 30–31 596 index

Ibn Gabirol, Solomon. See Salomon Ibn Grimm, Jacob, 242, 244–45 Gabirol Grossman, Jeffrey, 393 Gabrieli, Giuseppe, 448 Gruber, Johann Gottfried, xxi, 3, 25, Gagnier, Jean, 370 28, 87, 110, 118, 126–27, 143, 151, Galen, 202, 290 158, 194, 214, 220, 373, 377, 380, Galileo, 575 479–80, 492 Gamaliel, R., 509 Grünbaum, Max, 235, 390, 394 Gancia, G., 448 Grünwald, Moritz, 390 Gandz, Salomon, 462, 465 De Gubernatis, Angelo, 437 Gans, David, 93 Güdemann, Moritz, 184–85 Gans, Eduard, 85, 141n10 Guggenheim-Grünberg, Florence, 386 Gardthausen, Victor, 253 Guidi, Ignazio, 440, 448 Gedalyah ben Eleazar. See Brecher, Guttmann, Jakob, 332 Gideon Guttmann, Michael, 465 Gedaliah Ibn Yachya, 158 Geiger, Abraham, xxiii, 11–13, 46, Haarbrücker, Theodor, 371n38 102–5, 129–32, 138, 158, 179, Haas, Adolf, 56–57 184–85, 213, 345, 365, 421 Haberman, A. M., 249n2 Geiger, Ludwig, 94, 102, 184, 236 Habillo, Eli, 292 Gerard of Sabionetta, 193 Hadad, Israel, 249n2 Gersonides, 279, 285, 290, 293n67, 311, Hadji Khalifa, 367 475, 516, 517n70 von der Hagen, Friedrich Heinrich, 388 Gesenius, Wilhelm, 254 Hahn, Joseph Yuspa, 533 al-Ghaﬁqi, Abū Jafar, 480 Hahnemann, Samuel, 56 al-Ghazali, Abū Hamid, 192, 285–86, Hai Gaon, 480 291–92, 311–12 Halberstamm, Solomon Joachim, 304, Ghiron, Davide, 432n86, 448 306, 312–14, 369n27 Ghirondi, Mordecai Samuel, 302, 306, Hamaker, H. A., 267–68 314, 369n27, 442 von Haneberg, Daniel Bonifacius, 500 Giehrl, Rudolph, 121 al-Harizi, Judah. See Judah al-Harizi Gikatilla, Joseph, 315 Harkavy, Abraham, 255, 332, 356, 361, Ginzberg, Louis, 332 371, 399 Giordani, Enrico, 439, 448 von Harnack, Adolf, 550–51 Gleditsch, Johann Friedrich, 111n8 Harvey, Steven, xxvii, 534 de Goeje, M. J., 267n11 al-Hassar, Abu Bakr, 193 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang, 242, 485 Hayyim b. Judah Ibn Vivas, 315 Goitein, Shelomo Dov, 324–25 Hecht, Moses, 265n6 Golb, Norman, xxvii Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, 85–86, Goldberg, Adeline, 17n51, 19n59, 411, 140–41, 222 457 van der Heide, Albert, 274–75, 281n9, Goldberg, Ber, 371 287 Goldenberg, Samuel, 89 Heidenheim, Wolf, 314 Goldschmidt, Barukh Bendit, 314 Heine, Heinrich, 100–101 Goldsmid, Sir Isaac Lyon, 21 Helfferich, Adolf, 500 Goldziher, Ignaz, 13–14, 105, 371n38, van Hell, Johannes, 269–70 505 Hen. See Zerahyah (Zerachiah) ben Golius, Jacobus, 265–66 Isaac Hen Gordon, Jekuthiel, 314 d’Herbelot, Barthélemy, 367 Gosche, Richard, 500 Hermann of Contractus, 193 Gräber, Eisig, 421, 451 Hermes, 193 Graetz, Heinrich, xv, xvii–xxv, 138, Herzog, David, 376 175, 178–79, 184, 188, 213, 226, Heuberger, Rachel, xxvii 341, 345–46, 395, 416, 508–9 Heyfelder, Johann Ferdinand, 65 Graf, Georg, 368, 382 Hildesheimer, Esriel, 321 Granistädter, Joseph, 39n11 Hillel of Verona, 292 index 597

Hippocrates, 305, 312–13, 316, 591 Jellinek, Adolf, 9, 45–46, 80, 158, 213, Hirsch, Fischl, 302, 307, 311 228, 307, 311, 345–46 Hirsch, Noa Chajim, 393 Jeshua ben Judah, 192 Hirsch, Samson Raphael, xx, 478 Joël, R. David Heymann, 235 Hisdai, Abraham. See Abraham ben Johannes Hispalensis, 509 Hisdai John, Archduke, 20 Hiwi al-Balkhi, 509 John of Gmund, 193 Hiyya bar Abba, R., 243n33 Jolowicz, Heiman, 6, 84 Hoffmann, Andreas Gottlieb, 126 Jonah Ibn Janah, 31–32, 200, 371–72 Hoffmann, David Zvi, 332 de Jong, P., 267n11 Hollender, Elisabeth, xxviii Joseph ben Abraham, 192. See also Yusuf Hooiberg, Theodor, 270 al-Basir Horovitz, Markus, 322 Joseph ben Eliezer, 313 Horovitz, Therese, 322 Joseph Ibn Aqnin, 192, 374 Houtsma, M. Th., 267n11 Joseph Ibn Kaspi, 285 von Humboldt, Alexander, 98–99 Joseph Ibn Nahmias, 193 Joseph Ibn Shem-Tov, 292, 295 Ibn Abbas, Sama’uâl b. Judah. Joseph Ibn Waqqar, 193, 225–26 See Sama’uâl b. Judah Ibn Abbas Joseph Ibn Zaddik, 192 Ibn Abi Ridjal, Ali, 193 Joseph al-Maghribi, 370–71 Ibn Abi Usaybi’a, 368 Joseph al-Qirqisani, 192 Ibn Aﬂah Jabir, 193 Joseph II (Emperor), 5 Ibn Bajja. See Avempace Joseph Israeli, 193 Ibn al-Haytham, 193 Josephus, 60, 161 Ibn Asad, Abu al-Faraj Furqan, 356 Joshua Ibn Shu’eib, 306 Ibn al-Faraj, Abu al-Faraj Harun, 356, Jost, Isaak Markus, 22, 85, 141n11, 356, 356n22 358, 400–401, 416 Ibn Hunayn, Ishaq, 192, 202, 204, 496 Jourdain, Amable, 494 Ibn Ishâq, Isâ. See Ibn Zurah, Isâ Ibn Jtzkowski, H., 526 Ishâq Judah al-Harizi, 32, 374 Ibn al-Jazzâr, Amad, 313 Judah ben Moses, 494 Ibn Khallikân, Abu-l Abbas, 375 Judah ben Nissim, 192 Ibn Luqa, Qusta 192–93 Judah ben Solomon ha-Kohen Ibn Ibn Mu’adh Abu Abd Allah, 193 Matqah, 279, 284, 292–93, 295 Ibn al-Nadim Abu al-Faraj, 92, 368 Judah ben Solomon Nathan, 291 Ibn Qurrah, Thabit, 193 Judah Halevi, 6, 49–54, 71, 78, Ibn Ridwân, Ali, 192 100–101, 192, 199, 418 Ibn Tufayl (Tofeil), Muammad, 192, Judah Ibn Tibbon, 6, 199–201, 294 312 Judah Messer Leon, 293n67 Ibn Zurah, Isâ Ibn Ishâq, 496 Judah Romano, 192, 315, 440, 444 Idel, Moshe, 344n18, 346 Juynboll, Th. W. J., 268, 270n18, Ikhwân al-Safà, 195 272–73 Immanuel ben Solomon of Rome, 32, 312 Kalonymus ben David, 291 Isaac ben Abraham of Troki, 361 Kant, Immanuel, 67, 222, 227n54 Isaac ben Moses, 311, 316 Kärle, Joseph, 82, 364 Isaac Israeli, 192, 285, 374, 457 Karo, Joseph, 33, 104, 585 Isler, Meier, 90 Karpeles, Gustav, 390, 394 Ibn Kaspi, Joseph. See Joseph Ibn Kaspi Jacob ben Makhir, 193, 312, 475 Kastrel, Ellen, 506n33 Jacob ha-Nazir, 258 Kaufmann, David, xxvii, 93, 97, 228, Jacob Poel, 193, 476 297, 304, 508, 510–11 Jacob al-Qirqisani, 356, 360 Kayserling, Meyer, 109, 129 Jacobs, Joseph, 506–7 Kepler, Johannes, 572 Jaré, Giuseppe, 429–30, 448 Kestenberg-Gladstein, Ruth, 41 598 index al-Khwarizmi, Muhammad ibn Musa, Löbe, Julius, 118 461–62 Loeb, Isidore, 508, 510–12, 514–19, al-Kindi, Abu Yusuf Yaqub, 193, 195 521–22, 524 Kobak, Joseph, 74n150 Loew, Immanuel, 13 Kohen-Rapa, Jonah, 314 Lolli, Eude, 421, 427 Kohut, George Alexander, 17n51, 105, Longhena, Francesco, 434, 439–40, 134–35, 309–10, 358, 377n74, 411, 448 479 Löw, Leopold, 45, 47, 74n149, 80 Krebs, Friedrich, 323 Lull, Raymond. See Llull, Ramon Krochmal, Nachman, xvii, 20 La Lumia, Isidoro, 433n87, 448 al-Kuhin, Abu’l Munâ ibn abi Nar ibn Luria, Isaac, 71 Haffâ, 316 Luther, Martin, 591 Kukenheim, Louis, 274n27 Lutzki, Simah Isaac, 361 Kushjar ibn Labban, 193 Luzzatto, Elena, 420, 449 Kwasmann, Theodore, 538 Luzzatto, Filosseno, 415, 449 Luzzatto, Giuseppe, 420, 449 Ladenberg, Adalbert von, 106 Luzzatto, Isaia, 415, 420–21, 429–30, Lambert, Meyer, 376 449, 451 Lampronti, Isacco, 431 Luzzatto, Leone, 431, 449 Landau, Alfred, 394 Luzzatto, Marco Osimo, 431 Landauer, Meyer Hirsch, 224–25 Luzzatto, Marianna, 415 Landauer, Samuel, 372, 376 Luzzatto, Moses Hayyim, 429 Langermann, Y. Tzvi, 464 Luzzatto, Samuel David, 48n42, 52–54, Lasinio, Fausto, 434, 436–38, 443, 448 58, 78, 158, 306, 334, 412–31, Lasker, Daniel, xxvii 434–42, 449–56 Lattes, Abraham, 419n37, 430 Lattes, Moisé, 429n73, 430, 448 Abu-Maashar, 193 Le Blant, Edmond, 514 Mabillon, Dom Jean, 251 Lehnardt, Andreas, xxviii, 532 Macaulay, Thomas Babington, xxv, Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, 67 170, 174 Leicht, Reimund, xxiv al-Maghribi, Joseph. See Joseph Leon, Judah Messer. See Judah Messer al-Maghribi Leon Magnes, Judah L., 105 de León, Moses. See Moses de León Mai, H. See Maius (Mai), Ioannes Lessing, G. E., 217, 244 Henricus Letteris, Max (Meir), 63n96, 416 Maimonides, xx, 27–28, 31, 36, 71, 83, Levey, Martin, 466 163, 165, 173, 192–93, 235, 285, Levi, Benedetto, 430–31, 448 289, 292, 305, 313, 368, 371–72, Levi, Giuseppe Emanuele E., 421, 379, 431, 464, 480, 506, 585 448 Maioli, Alberto, 439 Lévi, I., 526 Maius (Mai), Ioannes Henricus, 280n6, Levi ben Abraham, 280, 292 584 Levi ben Gershom. See Gersonides Malkiel, David, 443 Levin, Hirsch, 392–93 Malter, Henry (Heinrich), 23n75, 105, Levita, Elia, 254, 403 134, 263–64, 297–98, 480 Levy, Jakob, R., 13 Manekin, Charles H., xxviii, 137–38, Levy, Moritz Abraham, 83 143, 195n9, 208n51 Lévy, Tony, xxvii Manfredi, Bartholomeo, 193 Lewy, Israel, 132, 235, 242 Mann, Jacob, 360 Lieberman, Saul, 242 Margoliouth, D. S., 376 Liebermann, Max, 177 Margoliouth, George, 293–94 van der Linde, Antonius, 435 Margulies, Samuel Hirsch, 449 Lippmanns, Abraham, 317 Marr, Wilhelm, xixn4 Llull, Ramon, 192, 315 Marsilius ab Ingen, 192 index 599

Martin, H., 573 Nahmanides, 71, 480 Marx, Alexander, 17n51, 105, 134, an-Najjâr, Mordekhay. See Mordecai 263–64, 309, 323, 327, 332, 358, an-Najjar 411, 413, 458, 462, 479–81, Narboni, Moses. See Moses Narboni 510n46 Narducci, Enrico, 440–41, 449 Marx, Moses, 330 Nathan, Judah ben Solomon. See Judah Masai, François, 260 ben Solomon Nathan MashaAllah, 193 Nehemia, R., 462 Ibn Matqah, Judah ben Solomon Netanael ben Isaiah, 375 ha-Kohen. See Judah ben Solomon Neubauer, Adolf, xxvii, 201, 208, ha-Kohen Ibn Matqah 255–56, 292–93, 296, 301, 356, 372, Matut, Diana, xxvii 421, 461, 512–26 Mauss, Marcel, 239 Neumann, Salomon, 14nn37, 38, 106 del Medigo, Elia, 296 Nicolaus of Damascus, 192 Mehlmann, Israel, 331n33 Nicomachus of Gerasa, 193 Mendelssohn, Moses, 24n79, 41, 67–68, Nietzsche, Friedrich, 241 132, 391–92, 395, 472, 473n36 Nordau, Max, 187 Menelaus, 193 Novick, Peter, 185 Mephistopheles, 584 Merx, Adalbert, 255–56 Ockham, William of, 192 Meshullam ben Jacob, 199 Olmo, Yaaqov, 431 Meyer, Heinrich Landauer, 158 Olschki, Leo S., 431, 449 Meyer, Hermann, 331n33 Olszowy-Schlanger, Judith, xxvi Meyer, Joseph, 117 Omar ben Muhammad, 193 Meyer, Michael A., 114 Oppenheim, David, 74n149 Meyerbeer, Giacomo, 17 Oppenheimer, David ben Abraham, Michael, Heimann Joseph, 94, 493 93–94, 254 Michelet, Jules, 218 Osimo, Leone, 431 Miller, Michael L., xviii Osimo, Marco, 431, 449 Modena, Leon, 223–24 Modona, Leonello, 432, 449 Paciolo de Burgo, Luca, 193 Mommsen, Theodor, 170 Paggi, Angelo, 436 Monasch, B. L., 114–15, 120, 125 Paulus, Heinrich, 370 de Montfaucon, Bernard, 251 Don Pedro III, 193 Morais, Sabato, 438, 449 Perani, Mauro, 537n21 Mordecai an-Najjar, 375 Perl, Joseph, 89 Mordecai ben Nisan, 361 Perreau, Pietro, 421, 439, 443, 449 Mortara, Marco, 311, 427–29, 434, Petrucci, Armando, 423 443, 449 Petrus Hispanus, 192, 315, 494 Moscato, Judah, 52 Pﬁsterer, András, 40 Moser, Moses, 85 Philippson, Ludwig, 183, 185–87 Moses Abulaﬁa, 192 Philo, 60, 161 Moses ben Solomon of Salon, 296 Philoponus, John, 501 Moses de León, 213, 221, 225 Piccolomini, Alessandro, 192–93, 494 Moses Ibn Ezra, 192 da Piera, Solomon, 311 Moses Ibn Tibbon, 290, 294–95 Pierer, Heinrich August, 9, 116–19, 365 Moses Narboni, 283, 285, 287, 289, Pierer, Johann Friedrich, 479 296, 312, 315 Pinchas Zvi ben Nethanel, 315 Muhammad ben Muhammad, 193 Pinsker, Simhah, 296n80, 356, 361, 371 Müller, August, 368 Piperno, Avraham Barukh, 438 Müller, Max, 501 Pitré, Giuseppe, 433 Munk, Salomon, 17–18, 23, 28–31, Platearius, Mattaeus, 313 68–71, 100, 370–72, 374, 381, 492, Plato, 67, 195, 289, 502 512–13 Pococke, Edward, 368, 371 600 index

Poel, Jacob. See Jacob Poel Rottberger, Ignatz, 79n165 Pollak, Hayyim Josef, 42, 51, 74n149 von Rotteck, Karl, xxv Porphyry, 289 Roussel, Henri, 274n27 Poznański, Samuel, 332, 334, 356, 361, Rust, Johann Nepomunk, 59 377, 379 Preller, Ludwig, 227n54 Saadia Gaon, 21, 28, 30n101, 32, 89, Ptolemy, 193, 311, 466, 502 192, 200, 352, 368–69, 372–73, 379 Puerbach, Georg von, 193 Sabel, Johannes, 152n3 Sacchi, Federico, 450 al-Qabîsî, Abū al-Shaqr, 193 Sacerdote, Gustavo, 432, 443, 450 al-Qirqisâni, Joseph. See Joseph Sachs, Michael, xviii, 34, 88, 90, al-Qirqisani 97–100, 158, 334 al-Qirqisâni, Yaqub. See Jacob Sacrobosco, Johannes, 193 al-Qirqisani de Sacy, Sylvestre, 10 al-Qonsanin, Solomon. See Solomon Ibn al-Saffar, Abu al-Qasim, 193 al-Qonstantin Sahel, Ibn Bishr, 193 al-Qumsi, David Ibn Marwan. See Salah, Asher, xxvii David Ibn Marwan al-Qumisi Salom, Avraham, 422, 450 Qusta Ibn Luqa. See Ibn Luqa, Qusta Salomon, Isaak Berend, 93 Salomon Ibn Gabirol, 79–80, 192, 199 Raffalovich, Elena, 433 Samaran, Charles, 260 von Ranke, Leopold, xxiv, 170, 177–78, Sama’uâl b. Judah Ibn Abbas, 315 185, 190 Samuel ben Judah, 481 Rapoport, Salomon Judah, 19, 27, Samuel Ibn ‘Adiya, 146, 365 88–90, 105, 130, 158, 416 Samuel Ibn Tibbon, 192 Rashi. See Solomon ben Isaac (Rashi) Sante Mattei, Carmine, 450 al-Razi, Muhammad ibn Zakariya, 480 Saraval, Léon, 369n27, 414, 442, 493 Rée, Anton, 395 Saraval, Moisé, 450 Reggio, Isaac Samuel, 307, 312–13, 442 Sarfati, Georges-Elia, 121 Regiomantus, 193 Sarfatti, Gad Ben-Ami, 463–64 Regnier, Adolph, 513–14 Sarton, George, 527 della Reina, Joseph, 317 Saul, R., 393 Reiske, Johann Jakob, 10 Scaliger, Joseph Justus, 264–65, 281 Reland, Adrian, 265–66 Schäfer, Peter, 539 Renan, Ernest, xix, xxvii, 18, 197, Schapira, Hermann, 460–61, 465 208–11, 277, 287, 294–98, 494, 501, Schechter, Solomon, 105, 134, 137, 512–14, 519–20, 524 257, 360, 379, 528 Richler, Benjamin, xxvii, 303, 329, 551 Schefer, Charles Henri Auguste, 208–10 Richter, Johann Andreas Lebrecht, Scheiber, Alexandre, 463 234–35 Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph, Rieger, Paul, 444 222, 224 Rieti, Moses, 316 Scheyer, Simon, 31 Robert of Lincoln, 192, 494 Schiff, Ber, 39, 57, 61–62, 75 Roemer, Nils, xxiv Schiff, Jacob, 309–10, 411 Romano, Judah. See Judah Romano Schleiden, Matthias, 507–11, 573 Rosenthal, Franz, 137, 142, 363, 382 Schmelzer, Menachem, 328 Rosenzweig, Franz, xvii, 345 Schmiedl, Abraham, 73, 74n149 Rosin, David, 508–9 Schnurrer, Christian Friedrich, 367–68, de Rossi, Azariah, 53 370n33, 371 de Rossi, Giovanni Bernardo, 278–80, Scholem, Fania, 345 286–87, 330 Scholem, Gershom, xvi–xxvii, Rotfeld, Salamon, 39n11 xxix–xxxii, 42–43, 176–77, 228–31, Róth, Ernst, 538, 540n35 340, 343–47 index 601

Schönblum, Samuel, 302, 306–7, 311 Sussmann, Yaacov, 539 Schönfeld, Baruch, 51 von Sybel, Heinrich, 186 Schorr, Osias, 307, 312–13 Schorsch, Ismar, xviii–xix, 72, 100, Tabrizi, Muhammad ibn Muhammad, 114–15 192 Schrijver, Emile, 288–90 Tacitus, 60 Schwab, Löw, 45, 48, 52 Tanhum, R., 30 Schwab, M., 578 Tanhum Yerushalmi, 371–72 Scot, Michael, 192, 494 de Taranta, Valescus, 316 Scotus, John Duns. See Duns Scotus, Themistius, 192 John Theodosius, 193 Sella, Quintino, 435 Thorndike, Lynn, 239 Servi, Flamino, 425n55, 450 Ibn Tibbon, Judah. See Judah Ibn Shadal. See Luzzatto, Samuel David Tibbon Shamsulu, Abraham, 284 Ibn Tibbon, Moses. See Moses Ibn Shapira, Moses Wilhelm, 307, 316 Tibbon Ibn Shem-Tov, Joseph. See Joseph Ibn Ibn Tibbon, Samuel. See Samuel Ibn Shem-Tov Tibbon Shem-Tov Ibn Shem-Tov, 292 Tisserant, Eugène, 323 Shuja (Abu Kamil), 193 Tittmann, Johann August Heinrich, Ibn Shu’eib, Joshua. See Joshua Ibn 217 Shu’eib Todros Todrosi, 294 Sike, Herman, 266 della Torre, Lelio, 421, 427, 450 Silbermann, Eliezer L., 334 Tortolini, Barnaba, 435 Simeon ben Jochai, 224 Traube, Ludwig, 252, 260 Simonsen, David, 332, 334 Trautmann-Waller, Céline, xix Singer, Isidore, 134–35, 485 Trebitsch, Nehemias, 5, 48, 75n154 Sirat, Colette, 287n46, 303 von Treitschke, Heinrich, xxiv, 170, Skoss, Solomon, 381 184, 186 Soave, Moisé, 307, 311–16, 414, Tufayl, Ibn. See Ibn Tufayl (Tofeil), 419–26, 429–31, 442, 450 Muammad Socrates, 584 Tychsen, Oluf Gerard, 251n6, 254 Sofer, Moses, 44 Tykocinski, Haim, 333 Sokolov, Nahum, 187, 332 Solmon ben Abraham Ibn Daud, 316 Ullmann, Herz, 265n6 Solomon ben Isaac (Rashi), 258 Umano, Felice, 431 Solomon al-Qonstantin, 291 Spiegel, Shalom, 341 Vagner, Elisabeth, 39n11 Spinoza, Baruch, 417 del Vecchio, Alberto, 431, 450 Spree, Ulrike, 116 Veltri, Giuseppe, xxvi Sprenger, Aloys, 503 Venetianer, Ludwig, 297 Staub, Kurt Hans, 538 Versor, Jean, 192, 292 Steglich, E. A., 251n6 Vincent of Beauvais, 192, 494 Steinschneider, Auguste. See Auerbach, Vital, Hayyim, 225, 585 Auguste Ibn Vivas, Hayyim b. Judah. See Steinschneider, Jacob, 37, 44–45 Hayyim b. Judah Ibn Vivas Steinschneider, Julius, 490, 515 Vogelstein, Hermann, 444 Steinschneider, Max, 551 Della Volta, Samuel Vita, 428 Steinthal, Hermann, 132 Voltaire, 68 Stern, Max Emanuel, 42, 52 Stern, Moritz Abraham, 89n31 Wagenseil, Johann Christoph, 397 Striedl, Hans, 538 Ibn Wakar, Joseph. See Joseph Ibn Suchy, Barbara, 120–21 Waqqar 602 index

Wanefried, Moses Katz, 44–46 Yusuf al-Basir, 356, 360. See also Joseph Ibn Waqqar, Joseph. See Joseph Ibn ben Abraham Waqqar Yusuf ibn Nuh, 356n22 Warner, Levinus, 265, 270, 281 Weijers, H. E., 268 Zacuto, Abraham, 158, 286, 476 Weil, Gotthold, xvi, 109–10, 176, 229, Zadek, Hani, 37 346–47, 365 Zadek, Josephine (Hayla), 37–38, 40 Weil, Henri, 209 al-Zarqālī (Abū Isāq Ibrāhīm), 193, Weisse, Josef, 46–48, 51 480 Wenrich, Johann, 495–97 Zatelli, Ida, 437 Wiener, Leo, 390, 395, 399, 406–7 Zedner, Joseph, 369n27 Wiener, Max, 346 Zekhariyah ben Solomon, 375 Witkam, Jan Just, xxvi–xxvii Zenker, Julius Theodor, 368 Wolf, Friedrich August, 112, 148n31 Zerahyah (Zerachiah) ben Isaac Hen, Wolf, Immanuel, xvii, xxiii, 112, 122, 290, 496 142–43 Zonta, Mauro, 204n44, 294 Wolf, Johann Christoph, 26, 93, 158, Zoroaster, 591 278–80, 287, 294–95, 368 Zotenberg, Hermann, 201, 292 Wolff, Christian, 67 Zunz, Adelheid, 19, 21, 88n26, 89 Woodberry, George Edward, 149–50 Zunz, Leopold, xv–xx, xxiv, xxix–xxxi, Wüstenfeld, Heinrich Ferdinand, 368, 3, 9–13, 19–24, 34, 47, 81–113, 492, 796 127–32, 138, 142n13, 144–46, 152–61, 167, 173–80, 184–86, 189, Yefet ben Eli, 360, 371, 376 213, 234, 251–53, 307, 314, 345–47, Yehudah he-Hasid, 533 365–66, 372–73, 392–94, 403, 416, Yeshuah ben Yehudah. See Ibn Assad, 419, 477–81, 536 Abu al-Faraj Furqan Zwiep, Irene, xxiv, 342