As a result of the disregard in which the rabbis were held, the Talmudical schools fell into decay. Gifted Jewish youths, whose education formerly had begun with the Talmud, preferred to attend the gymnasiums and universities, and learned to despise the Talmud and Judaism. The most famous Talmudical academies in Prague, Frankfort, Altona and Hamburg, Fürth, Metz, and Halberstadt, which had boasted at least several hundred pupils (Bachurim), were gradually closed. This desolation spread to Poland, as the Talmud students no longer had hope of finding employment in Germany and France. They still made their way to Germany, but with the intention of studying science (Chochmoth), or if they remained at home, they devoted themselves to the ensnaring mysticism of Neo-Chassidism. There were but four rabbis of the younger generation who, on account of their profound knowledge of the Talmud and their pure, patriarchal character, enjoyed widespread authority: Mordecai Benet, in Nikolsburg, Jacob Lissa, Akiba Eger, and his son-in-law, Moses Sofer, of Frankfort-on-the-Main. These four rabbis, by their ingenious methods, kept alive the zeal for Talmudical study. Akiba Eger, owing to his astoundingly ingenious mind and high virtues—among which modesty was preëminent—enjoyed almost divine reverence from the thousands of disciples who came from his academies in Friedland and Posen. He was a quiet man, who never took the initiative, and was averse to aggressive opposition. Moses Sofer, on the other hand, was a fanatical zealot and an active heretic-hunter. He possessed courage and determination which disregarded consequences. He might have been a useful leader, but, like his companions, he was at too great a distance from the scene of action, to take part in the contest, or even to set up a standard. These rabbis had not the slightest conception of the new tendency which the times and the Jews had developed, and were therefore ignorant of the importance of the cause which they represented. They did not know the enemy whom they attacked, or despised him too much to be dangerous opponents. When a serious question or a critical situation arose, they were at a loss what to do, brought out their old rusty weapons, and damaged their cause by revealing its weakness. This awkwardness created an impression of feebleness and decrepitude. Thus the old orthodox party (as their opponents, borrowing the name from Church phraseology, termed them), or conservatives, were without a head, without a banner or a plan, utterly without unanimity or discipline, without consciousness of their own strength. They especially lacked eloquence, the indispensable means by which public opinion is influenced and ruled, and its follies and hollow emptiness are made apparent. Their utter want of education avenged itself bitterly upon the rigidly pious party.
On the other hand, the opposing section, the ardent innovators, the party of Jacobson, possessed what was wanting in the others: a daring leader, unity, and especially a wealth of passwords and phrases, such as, "spirit of the times, enlightenment," by which the thoughtless are captivated. Their victory and ultimate success could be foreseen. They had confidence and the courage of youth, were bold, and not over-particular as to the means employed. Jacobson, their chief, knew how to pursue and achieve an end, and how to utilize the means at his disposal. He saw that the Hamburg Temple would encounter difficulties, and would be condemned as heretical by the old rabbis. Jacobson was in correspondence with the founders, and knew that the Senate, instigated by the orthodox party, would, like the king of Prussia, forbid innovations. He also saw that many of the Hamburg Templars were too lukewarm to struggle against great difficulties. For this reason he strove to obtain in advance the ratification of the Temple ritual. Among the rabbis of Germany he could find no voice of approval for the new order of service. He, therefore, connected himself—a fact which throws no favorable light upon the cause—with a base adventurer, who, it appears, was bribed to help him. Eleazar Libermann from Austria, a gambler, became his apostle of reform. To characterize the man, it suffices to note that he afterwards was baptized. At the bidding of the reformers, Libermann traveled in Austria. From him they learned that in Hungary and Italy there were rabbis or would-be rabbis, willing to pronounce a favorable opinion upon the new ritual. Jacobson addressed his inquiries to them, and his wishes were fulfilled. The first who allowed himself to be used by Libermann was Aaron Chorin (from Chorin), rabbi in Arad, Hungary, a tedious talker of superficial culture and mediocre Talmudical scholarship, who was capable of repeating absurdities in three languages—in Hebrew, German, and the Jewish-German jargon. He was devoted to the new movement without clearly understanding its bearings. Two Italian rabbis of low attainments also spoke in favor of the innovations. The opinions of all these men—not one of whom was of wholly sound mind—showed that the introduction of the organ was not against Rabbinical law. Chorin alone produced authorities in favor of the other reforms, and for German prayers. Libermann collated these opinions, strengthened them by his own pretended learning, adding the falsehood that not only all the rabbis of Leghorn, but even those of Jerusalem, had declared it permissible to use the organ in Jewish divine service. These opinions, which were printed and scattered broadcast, were intended to exonerate the Hamburg Reform Temple from blame at its very birth, and to remove the blot of illegitimacy which, as might have been foreseen, the rabbis of the old school would affix to it.
Whilst the reformers energetically tried to forestall every obstacle, the conservatives remained idle, and allowed the dangers which threatened their convictions to gather unnoticed. As already observed, Hamburg had at this time no rabbi at its head, but a college of three assistants (Dayanim) of little repute. Although these official representatives of Judaism had almost the entire Hamburg community to support them, they opposed the innovations with little vigor. Shortly after the opening of the Temple, the college ordered a feebly-written proclamation to be put up in the synagogues (October 26, 1818), that the new prayer-book should not be used by Israelites of pious sentiments, because contrary to usage essential passages had been omitted or altered. But this declaration lost its effect, when the lay heads of the community—whose assistance the Dayanim had not been able to win—took it down, and rebuked the authors, because "they had been guilty of intolerable presumption." The lay heads, at the recommendation of the college, afterwards invited the leaders of the Temple (November 8th) to a meeting, and requested them to discontinue the use of the prayer-book, as it did not agree with the ritual accepted by all Jewish communities. The Templars, however, laughed this demand to scorn.
The Temple Union unexpectedly received moral support from a person having great influence in Hamburg. Lazarus Riesser, the father of the indefatigable champion for the emancipation of the Jews in Germany, had always been reckoned one of the old orthodox party. As the son-in-law of Rabbi Raphael Cohen and his right hand, he was absorbed in the Talmud. He had published a Hebrew life of Raphael Cohen, in which he eulogized not only the author, but also his rabbinical views, and declared himself his faithful follower. How astonished, therefore, were the Hamburg Jews of both parties when a letter from Riesser suddenly appeared, entitled "To my Co-religionists in Hamburg" (the beginning of 1819), applauding the Temple innovations, and sharply rebuking the rabbinical college which had opposed them! He frankly called the opponents "sanctimonious hypocrites" who "nourish contentions in Israel, and bar the way of the sons desirous of returning to the favor of their father." It appears that he wished to wreak a petty revenge upon the members of the rabbinical college of Hamburg, by whom he perhaps thought himself kept in the background.
The orthodox party in Hamburg, who imagined that no rabbi in the whole of Europe would approve of the reforms, were bitterly disappointed; owing to the activity of Jacobson and Libermann, the Jewish public discovered that several rabbis in various districts upheld them. The old rabbis were so listless and indolent in the matter, that they had to be addressed twice, before they pronounced judgment against the Temple. In the first excitement the Hamburg rabbis had unwisely condemned the innocent and commendable customs which were introduced into the Temple, such as the Portuguese pronunciation of Hebrew, the omission of intoning in reading from the Bible. To rectify these mistakes, they afterwards limited their complaints to three points—the abridgment of the prayers, especially with reference to the omission of Messianic passages, prayers in German, and the use of the organ. To this programme the agreement of numerous distinguished rabbis and rabbinates was at length secured; four in Germany (Fürth, Mayence, Breslau, and Hanau), five in Italy (Trieste, Modena, Padua, Mantua, and Leghorn), three in Prussian Poland (Posen, Lissa, and Rawitz), and two in Moravia (Nikolsburg and Trietsch). Moses Sofer in Presburg, the German rabbi in Amsterdam, and the French chief rabbis of the consistory of Wintzenheim, also signed the document. They all declared the reforms in the Temple to be distinctly heterodox. Libermann's falsehoods now became apparent, as the Leghorn rabbinate had not given its assent to the use of the organ. Samun, a would-be rabbi of Leghorn, and Chorin of Arad, probably under moral compulsion, revoked their former testimonials. The most zealous in their denunciations of the Temple were Sofer of Presburg and Benet of Nikolsburg, who declared the slightest deviation from ancient usages as heresy. But the impression which the authors of this document had hoped for did not follow. It had been delayed too long, more than seven months having elapsed before sentence of heresy was promulgated; and meantime the Temple Union had established itself. Eighteen antagonistic rabbinates (in all forty rabbis) did not seem many; and the most eminent of all, the Central Consistory of France, had remained silent. The signers of the protest asserted that more opinions had been received; but this belated statement was of no avail. The arguments adduced by the rabbis against the Temple service were for the most part void, some were thoroughly childish. The letter of the law spoke against them. The diversity of opinions among rabbinical authorities of various ages and countries, always made it possible to find reasons for and against any question.
This weakness was mercilessly exposed by M. J. Bresselau, one of the originators of the Hamburg reform. In a Hebrew letter (1819) written in beautiful Hebrew style and with such skillful manipulation of biblical verses, that it seemed as though the prophets and psalmists themselves were scourging the delusions of the obtuse rabbis, Bresselau treated them now as ignorant boys, now as false prophets, and especially as disturbers of the peace. Every sentence in this seemingly earnest but bitingly satirical epistle was a dagger-thrust against the old perversions and their defenders. The reformers also obtained reinforcement from Poland. The old-fashioned party, on the other hand, were unable to present a single Hebrew writer to defend their cause. Even the Hebrew style used in the document of the opposing rabbis was rugged and coarse. The Dayanim of Hamburg, indeed, caused the testimonial to be in part translated into German—a concession that betrayed the weakness of their cause—but the German version was not calculated to create a good impression. For this they had to employ Shalom Cohen, a turn-coat, who had formerly belonged to the ranks of the reformers. In short, the conservatives were unfortunate, because they were unskillful and imprudent.
It also happened that the Temple quarrel took place in the year when the "Hep, hep!" cry was being raised, and Hamburg also participated in it. The wealthy and worldly Jews were thereby restricted to the society of their own people, and actively supported the banner that had been unfurled. The Jewish merchants of Hamburg, members of the Temple Union, who were accustomed to attend the fair at Leipsic during the chief festivals in the spring and autumn, joined some Berlin merchants of similar opinions, and established a branch synagogue (September 20, 1820). Meyerbeer composed the songs for the opening ceremony. They appointed a so-called fair-preacher (Messprediger), Jacob Auerbach, and from this gathering-place of Jews from various countries, the innovations spread to a wider circle. The Hamburg reforms thus were adopted in some parts; and in other communities, such as those of Carlsruhe, Königsberg, and Breslau, where the entire programme was not carried out, at least the rite of confirmation, imitated from the Church, was introduced.
The first attempt to set up an opposing party, so as to dam the overflowing stream of reform, and make it subside into a quiet bed, commenced on account of the Temple innovations. This opposing party was established by a man who had himself partially forsaken rabbinical Judaism, but who strove to strengthen and vindicate it, under the correct impression that development must take place upon its own soil, with due regard to historical conditions, and along its peculiar lines, and especially without aping foreign Church forms. Isaac Bernays (born at Mayence, 1792; died at Hamburg, 1849) was the man who intelligently opposed the prevailing flaccidity of semi-enlightened reform and thought. In South Germany, in contradistinction to North Germany with its love for formal statements of doctrines, which never rose beyond the commonplaces of rationalism, a mystic philosophical school had been established, which promoted visionary notions. In all things, the smallest and the greatest, in nature and history, in the grouping of things, in numbers, colors, and names, this philosophy beheld a system, germs of ideas, the shattered ruins of a gigantic mirror reflecting fundamental thoughts in huge size. Isaac Bernays belonged to this school. To his vision Judaism in its literature and historical progress revealed itself half unveiled. Bernays' mind, with its overflowing wealth of ideas, found in all phenomena the harmonious systemization and development of a fundamental thought, which to manifest all its latent possibilities permeated passing events and historical achievements, and which had developed from the beginning of creation to the most recent fact. Bernays, much profounder than Mendelssohn, was the first to recognize the important rôle of Judaism in the history of the world, and at a glance to measure the range of its literature. His fault was, perhaps, that he was too rich in ideas, that therefore he sought out and discovered too much, and was not equal to the task of clothing his ideas in fitting form and language. From his superior altitude he looked with contemptuous pity upon the poverty of thought of Jewish reformers, who desired to contract and confine the giant spirit of Judaism (of which they had no conception) within the narrow bounds of a catechism for big and little children. In his eyes the followers of Friedländer were the embodiment of insipidity and narrowness. They impressed Bernays with the idea of a rabble who dwell in a Pyramid, and fit it up for petty household purposes.
"They, the disciples of Mendelssohn, ashamed of their antiquity, prefer, as foundlings of the present day, wildly to overleap the unfashionable limits of the Law, instead of listening in the school of their race, to hear what God has brought about at the present day."
The train of thought by which Bernays reconstructed Judaism in his mind from its original sources and history, is little known to us. He preferred oral to written instruction, and was averse to put his thoughts on paper. The "Biblical Orient," which is ascribed to him, is, so to speak, only the foundation of the vestibule of a reverence-inspiring temple. This work, odd as it was in form, is distinguished for its depth and originality; it starts with the idea, that to Judaism is allotted the task of bringing back to God men created in His image, and that the Jewish people was to serve as a type to mankind, showing how the lost likeness to God may be regained. The "Biblical Orient" endeavored to establish a more thorough comprehension of the Bible than had been effected by the Mendelssohnian school. They had regarded it merely from its poetical side, and had failed to see that it portrays the collision between two views of life. Bernays believed that his criticism dethroned the Mendelssohn school, together with its founder; for Mendelssohn himself, by his superficial treatment of Hebrew literature, had been the first to contribute to the enervation of Judaism.