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AET. SEVENTY

REMINISCENCES
B Y
ISAAC M. WISE
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN AND EDITED WITH
AN INTRODUCTION BY * *
DAVID PHILIPSON
3º---- ~~~~ Tºr rrr, re-enr 37
Author of “THE JEw
“OLD EUROPEA.
FºE
- 25
CI N C IN N AT I Mº
L E O WIS E A N #9 com PA;
*...*
I 9 O I

copyRIGHT, 1901, BY
I.EO WISE & COMPANY.,
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION, - - - - - - - - - - - - - 5
REMINISCENCES-PART I, - - - - - - - - - - II
6 & “ II, - - - - - - - - - - 255
THE CLOSING SCENES OF A GREAT LIFE, - - - - - - 349
RABBI ISAAC M. WISE (A POEM), - - - - - - - - 355
GLOSSARY, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 357
INDEX, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 363
INTRODUCTION
A&
MONG the most precious records in the world's
literature are the autobiographical accounts
wherein great men set forth the story of the develop-
ment of their powers, and detail the conditions and
circumstances under which they lived and among
which they worked. If such men have been not only
thinkers, but also toilers; if they have exerted a de-
cisive influence at critical periods; if, by the force of
their personality, they have been enabled to shape the
trend of events, then the tale unfolding the secrets
of their inner life and thought, and describing the
motives that determined their activity, obtains an
even added value. The autobiography in such cases
has worth, not only as a psychological study, but also
as a valuable historical contribution. The reminis-
cences of Dr. Wise have indeed this double char-,
acter. They reveal not only the man, his thoughts,
his strivings, his hopes, his ideals, during a most im- .
portant epoch of his life, but they present also a most
valuable account of the conditions prevalent in Amer-
ican Jewry during the critical period of the formative
years. Isaac M. Wise was the most prominent figure
5
6 ISAAC M. WISE
among the Jews of America during a long period
of time. He came to this country at a juncture when
an organizer and a builder along new lines was
needed. The man and the opportunity met in this
instance. How the man grasped the opportunity
is told graphically in the story narrated in this
volume.
These reminiscences of Dr. Wise's early life in
America were published originally in Die Deborah,
the German supplement of the Israelite. They ap-
peared more or less regularly from July 3, 1874, to
August II, 1875. They cover the first eleven years
of his life in America; i. e., from 1846 to 1857. It
will remain ever a cause of unfailing regret that he
did not continue the story of his life to a later period.
He himself once told the reason why he did not do
so. He said that so many of the actors in the stirring
scenes of his life were still living, that he did not wish
to present some of these in an unpleasant light, as
would have been necessary in describing the motives
which actuated them in their opposition to his work
and his plans for union among the Jewish congrega-
tions of the country. It was hoped that he had
kept a diary; but diligent search among his literary
remains has failed to bring any such production to
light. Shortly after his death, the publication of the
reminiscences in an English translation was begun
in the American Israelite. They appeared every week
INTRODUCTION 7
from May 24, 1900, to January Io, 1901. The words
with which I introduced that publication of these me-
moirs in their English garb may be reproduced here:
“In these reminiscences Dr. Wise revealed a side
of his versatile self which was known only to those
who came into intimate personal contact with him.
The geniality and lovableness of the man received
expression, for Isaac M. Wise was not only the in-
trepid fighter, the skillful organizer, the powerful
preacher, the incisive writer, but also the kindly gen-
tleman, who knit to himself with bonds of steel those
who came within the circle of the influence of his
sunny personality. The optimism of his nature has
been frequently dwelt upon during these past weeks;
but there was also a romantic strain in his make-up
which enabled him to forget the realities of life and
find recreation in an imaginative world which ob-
tained expression in novel and in drama. This many-
sidedness appears in these reminiscences. The jo-
viality and good humor alternate with the discussion
of the plans that he had in mind. There appear, too,
descriptions of scenes and incidents in American Jew-
ish life that are not contained in books. He tells
likewise of the discouragements and the obstacles
that were placed in his path. The life portrayed is
presented so vividly that the reader lives through
with him the days of struggle and achievement. The
reminiscences begin with his arrival in this country,
8 Isa AC M. WISE
for he dated his life from that time. He rarely re-
ferred to his experiences in Europe; the restrictions
placed on the Jew in his native land of Bohemia
darkened the prospect. For that reason, too, he
never cared to return to Europe. Once only he had
that thought, and that was at the time of the revo-
lutions of 1848, when freedom seemed to be breathing
upon the dried bones of European institutions. He
was essentially a lover of freedom, and therefore he
was in all things but birth a true American. This
fact appears throughout his whole life, and notably
in this personal account of his hopes, longings, and
aspirations.”
The reminiscences stop very abruptly. It was my
original purpose to continue the story of Dr. Wise's
life from the point at which this autobiographical
narrative ceases, and to incorporate it in this volume
as an appendix. However, this has been rendered
unnecessary, owing to the fact that a biography of
Dr. Wise has appeared recently in the volume pub-
lished under the auspices of the Alumnal Association
of the Hebrew Union College, entitled Selected
Writings of Isaac Mayer Wise.
I have thought it advisable to reproduce in the
translation the Hebrew terms and expressions that
appear in the original manuscript. I have explained
or translated these terms and expressions in a glos-
INTRODUCTION 9
sary, which the reader to whom they are unfamiliar
will find at the end of the volume.
In order to give this volume a rounded form, I
have added, as a concluding chapter, the short ac-
count of the closing scenes of the life of my friend
and whilom teacher, which I wrote for the memorial
number of the American Israelite, and also a poem,
which is in the nature of an appreciation, from the
pen of Walter Scott Hurt.
We stand perhaps too near to Dr. Wise and his
achievements to be able to view them dispassionately
and impartially from the purely objective standpoint.
The future historian alone will be able to do this.
And that historian, whoever he may be, will be com-
pelled to turn to the present volume as one of the
most important sources of information, if not the
most important, that we have concerning the re-
markable leader who, more than any one man,
stamped the impress of his powerful personality upon
the institutional religious development of Judaism
in America.
In presenting these reminiscences to the public in
translated form, I have aimed to conform as far as
possible to the original; but my chief object has been
to reproduce the spirit of the author. I am convinced
that these reminiscences will at once take a high
place in American Jewish literature. They are
I O Isaac M. WISE
unique. They constitute a real contribution to
the history of the beginnings of modern Judaism
in America. The name of Isaac Mayer Wise will
live forever in the institutions which he founded—
the Union of American Hebrew Congregations, the
Hebrew Union College, the Central Conference of
American Rabbis; but the man himself speaks for all
time in these pages. We hear his voice, his spirit
shines through the words. It is his own personal
legacy to posterity. As such may it be received on
this day of the anniversary of his demise !
DAVID PHILIPSON.
Cincinnati, March 26, 1901.
REMINISCENCES
PART I
t cº
Hebº. E.City . . . ). ' ' 'O' V
-- - - - - -r-, -, -, * *
Il is; - *~1 *-
ERCC . . . . . 'N
I
H.E. twenty-third day of July has no particular
significance in the calendar of Christian sects,
and according to the Jewish calendar this day in the
year 1846 was one of the days of mourning of the
month of Ab. It was merely an ordinary hot summer
day. Notwithstanding the fact that a rabbinical con-
ference was held in Germany in the year 1846, this
year has no special importance in the history of the
world. No battles were fought, no revolution was
enacted, no epidemic, no flood, no scarcity marks this
commonplace year 1846. Dark night still brooded
over Austria; no paper constitution stood as yet be-
tween king and people in Prussia; Germany still
Snored beneath the protection of thirty-six monarchs;
Nicholas tyrannized over Russia and Poland, and
longed to populate Siberia; the pope had not yet
begun to anathematize; everything was commonplace,
ordinary, and exceedingly dull. On that common-
place twenty-third day of July in that commonplace
year 1846, I landed in New York with wife and child
and two dollars in my pocket. I had grown heartily
weary of Europe, or rather of Austria; had resigned
my position in Radnitz, Bohemia, where I had
preached and taught for three years; had gone with
wife and child to Bremen without a passport, em-
barked on the sailing vessel Marie, spent sixty-three
I3
I4. Isa AC M. WISE
tiresome days on the ocean, did what I could for small-
pox patients (there being no physician aboard), waited
on my sea-sick wife, carried my little child about (now
Mrs. Benjamin May, of Cincinnati), ate onions and
herring and smoked poor tobacco, railed at the
stupidity of my surroundings, and hoped for better
times, until finally this twenty-third day of July re-
leased me from these ills. I have long since forgotten
the romance of that trip, and can recall vividly but
one incident, that I impart herewith.
On the twentieth of July the captain informed me
that we were about fifty miles out at sea opposite
Boston, and that, if the wind continued favorable, we
would be in New York erelong. It was late at night
when he told me this. I was sitting solitary and
alone, and surrendered myself entirely to my emotions.
How foolish and daring it is, thought I, to have left
home, friends, position, and future prospects in order
to emigrate to a strange land without means or
expectations ! My imagination now played upon the
dark and spectral possibilities hidden in the lap of
the veiled future. I grew more and more despondent
and confused. Finally I dropped off to sleep, and
dreamed the following unforgetable dream:
I dreamed that a great storm which drove the ship
towards the land had arisen. Every one swayed,
trembled, feared, prayed; the inky waves rose moun-
tain high, and broke into seething masses, only to
give way to other watery heights. Convulsively I
embraced wife and child, and spoke words of calm
and comfort. It then appeared to me as though a high,
steep, rocky mountain was hurrying toward us and
REM.INIscENCES I 5
threatened to crush us. “Here we must land, or we
sink,” cried the captain, with quaking voice. Scarcely
had these words been uttered ere the ribs of the ship,
which had been hurled on the rock, cracked. I took
a daring leap, and stood on the rock with wife and
child. The ocean still roared; a wave seized the ship,
and cast it far out into the Seething waters; in a few
moments it was swallowed up in the night, and dis-
appeared from my gaze. So, then, here we were on
a rugged rock; at Our feet the waters, agitated by the
wild storm, raged; above us and about us were for-
bidding rocks, while the darkness added its terrors.
Finally, after a long interval, morning dawned, and
revealed the dangerous situation. “However steep
this mountain appears, we must ascend it,” said I to
my wife. I took my child on one arm; tremblingly
my wife clung to the other, and then forward, in God’s
name ! It seemed to me as though an inner voice
called, “Up above there is help.” With difficulty we
clambered from rock to rock, higher and higher,
constantly, untiringly. Then, as though the meas-
ure of woes was not yet full, hollow-eyed, ghostly,
grinning dwarfs, lascivious, ragged goblins, and
tiny poodles, with large, hollow, puffed-out heads,
came towards us on the narrow path, opposed
our further progress, and mocked me mercilessly.
I brushed them aside; but for every ten that I
pushed away a hundred arose from out the bare
rock. They came in the shape of night-owls, and
deafened me with their cries; they sizzed about
me like angry wasps, and stung me; they placed
themselves, like stupid blocks, in my path; in short,
I6 Isa Ac M. WISE
they did everything to harass me and prevent my
further progress. My wife at my side wept bitterly,
the child in my arms cried for fright, but my courage,
strength, and confidence grew. I begged, implored,
avoided, circumvented them, all to no avail. Then I
marched straight through the crowd of dwarfs, paid
no attention to their ravings, dashed them aside to the
right and the left, until finally, weary and perspiring,
we reached the summit of the mountain. Arriving
there, I saw the most beautiful and glorious landscape,
the richest, most fertile meadows, but I sank fainting;
thereupon I awoke, and found that it was all a dream;
but I have often thought of that dream.
Upon my arrival in New York I had much lug-
gage, but little money. A countryman of mine, who
had a horse and cart at hand, offered to take my
luggage to Essex Street for six dollars. The price
seemed to me too high. I spoke with an Irishman,
who also had a horse and wagon; he asked two dol-
lars for the same service, and I gave the Irishman
the preference Over my obliging countryman.
I had to make similar arrangements for my fellow-
travelers; this incensed a dozen German drivers
against me. “Now this confounded Jew has to know
English, and take the morsel of bread out of our
mouths,” cried one of them threateningly, and the
chorus joined in with all possible objurgations against
the Jews. I did not swear, but I was exceedingly
angry. Aha! thought I, you have left home and
kindred in order to get away from the disgusting
Judaeophobia, and here the first German greeting that
sounds in your ears is hep! hep ! True, in my mag-
REM.INIscENCES 17
nanimity I gave no retort to the gruff drivers. I
turned my back on them, but I indulged the right
of being angry to my heart's content, for I felt that
from now on I was no longer an imperial-royal,
Bohemian Schutzjude, but that I was breathing a
free atmosphere, and no one could prevent me from
being as angry as I pleased.
My wife and child were taken from the ship to his
home in Staten Island by a certain John Lindheim.
This Mr. Lindheim had a clothing-store on the
Bowery, and my brother-in-law, Edward Bloch, a
youth of sixteen, clerked for him. Hence the friend-
ship between the Lindheim family and my own. I
could not remain in Lindheim’s house, because I
was compelled to be the guest of Mr. Joseph Cohn.
I had married him six months previously in Radnitz.
He was about to emigrate, and in lieu of a fee en-
gaged to have me stop with him on my arrival in
New York. The promise was given and kept. Soon,
however, we were enabled to move into a house on
Broom Street, belonging to Mr. Friedman, where
we went to housekeeping.
In 1846, New York was a large village. On Broad-
way as far up as Canal Street, and in the business
section east of Broadway, the beginnings of the
metropolis were perceptible, but elsewhere it was
like a village. Small, insignificant-looking people
went in and out of small houses, small shops, small
institutions. The first impression that the city made
upon me was exceedingly unfavorable. The whole
city appeared to me like a large shop where every
one buys or sells, cheats or is cheated. I had never
2
I 8 Isa AC M. WISE
before seen a city so bare of all art and of every trace
of good taste; likewise I had never witnessed any-
where such rushing, hurrying, chasing, running. In
addition to this, there was the crying, blowing, clam-
oring, and other noises of the fishmongers, milkmen,
ragpickers, newsboys, dealers in popcorn, etc.—ear-
splitting noises, which were even often drowned in
the rumblings of the wagons and the cries of the
street gamins. All this shocked my aesthetic sense
beyond expression. In the first five days I heard the
sound of music but once in the street; this was pro-
duced by a wandering mediocre Bohemian band,
which thundered Turkish music. Yet, on the other
hand, I heard on the very first day the favorite, and
in fact the only dance music known here, played by
a negro, who fiddled outrageously and at the same
time called the figures of the quadrille in a hoarse
voice. Everything seemed so pitifully small and
paltry; and I had had so exalted an idea of the land
of freedom, that New York seemed to me like a lost
station by the sea; on that first day I longed to be
away from the city.
I had a still more depressing experience while in-
specting a number of houses. At Cohn's I found, in
a basement, a number of young fellow-countrymen
of culture transformed into factory hands, cigar-
makers, and peddlers, who, like a lot of political quid-
nuncs, uttered absolute and decided opinions about
the Mexican War, which was then in progress. These
young people asked me to open at once a night-
school for instruction in English, and a number of
them offered themselves as scholars immediately. I
REM.INIscENCES I 9
did as they bade me; but the experiment lasted only
One or two weeks, for I discovered that I had poor-
paying pupils, and they discovered that they had a
still poorer teacher. I had brought many letters
with me. Two of them I delivered to the physicians
B. and M. They both advised me to have nothing to
do with the Jews, although their practice was con-
fined exclusively to Jews, and gave me the fatherly
advice either to peddle or to learn a trade. I felt
disgusted; but during the conversation I had exam-
ined them more carefully than they had had time to
examine me, and had come to the conclusion that,
however skillful they might be as physicians, they
were not clever enough to advise me. That whole
day I walked about New York gaping and staring,
in order to remove the impression of that interview.
In the evening I looked through my letters of intro-
duction, took out one more letter that I intended to
deliver; but I determined that it should be the last.
In the morning, accordingly, I went to Eldridge
Street, stopped at a small house, and rang the bell
very timidly. A man in a dressing-gown, with a black
velvet cap on his head, opened the door.
“I would like to speak to Dr. Lilienthal.”
“I am he; step in.”
We stepped into the rear room, which was his
library.
“I come from Bohemia. Here is a letter from
Dr. W., your school friend, and here are some of
my papers.”
Dr. Lilienthal read the letter and the first of the
twelve documents I had given him, when he went
2O IsAAC M. WISE
to the door and called: “Wife, bring coffee and cigars.
I have received a guest.” Turning to me, he gave
me a friendly and hearty Shalom alekhem. “Hold up
your headl courage l’ cried he. “You are the man.
We need you.” In short, Dr. Lilienthal was the first
one to encourage me and inspire me with hope, and
at that time this was of prime importance and sig-
nificance for me. After a few minutes she came into
the room; she whom later I had the frequent oppor-
tunity of admiring as the most lovable and amiable
of wives and mothers; she who surpassed even
Munich's daughters in charm; who with clear insight
penetrated into the very heart of conditions and per-
sons, and cast a glamour of love on all about her.
I mean the sainted Peppie Lilienthal. Within ten
minutes I felt at home, and the impression which I
received in the Lilienthal home, perhaps decided my
career in America. Here I became acquainted with
Jewish conditions and with persons of the better
type. The first acquaintances that I made in Lilien-
thal’s house were Judge Joachimson, at that time a
young attorney; J. D. Walter, the most prominent
merchant among the German Jews of New York;
Moritz Lehmeyer, an exceedingly amiable young
merchant; Henry Moses, the millionaire of Houston
Street, and president of the Anshe Chesed congrega-
tion; Felsenheld, a teacher; and Kohlmeyer, a rab-
binical candidate, both of them good, agreeable men
of culture. That very day Joachimson introduced me
to Professors Matthew and Turner, and before night-
fall my opinion of New York had greatly improved.
In 1846 there were seven Jewish congregations
REMINISCENCES 2 I
in New York, two communal schools, a number of
Jewish mutual benefit associations, and two charitable
societies—one German, the other English. The
Portuguese congregation was the oldest, and the old-
est Portuguese was a Polish Jew. Since my land-
lord, Friedman, was a member of this congregation,
I went with him to the synagogue on Sabbath
Nach’mu; but I found the Portuguese ritual just as
antiquated and tedious as the German and the Polish,
although more decorous, dignified, and classical. The
next oldest congregation was the English-Polish,
that had a handsome synagogue on Elm Street, and
used the Polish ritual as it obtained in London. On
the very first morning I visited this synagogue, I
longed for the sight of a Hebrew book, and asked
the Shamash whether I could obtain a volume of the
JMishnah. That individual laughed so mockingly, that
I readily perceived what a sign of “greenness” it was
on my part to ask for an ancient Hebrew book in the
New World, and that too in an Orthodox synagogue.
It was certainly not my fault, for I discovered only
later the crass ignorance which ruled there. On
Center Street, in the second story, was the Polish
synagogue. I went there the next evening, and heard
some individual sniffle through a bit of Rashi in so
pitiably ignorant a manner between Minchah and
Maarib, that I never went there again. Of the Ger-
man congregations three were ultra orthodox. One
of them worshiped on Henry, the other two on At-
torney Street. Dr. Lilienthal had been chief rabbi
of these three congregations for six months, and
preached every Saturday in a different synagogue.
22 IsAAC M. WISE
On the first Sabbath (it was Sabbath Chagon) I went
to the synagogue on Henry Street to hear Dr. Lilien-
thal. The attendance was very large, the service
according to the old German ritual. The congrega-
tion was orthodox, and just as ill-behaved as in Ger-
many. The cantor had on a Christian gown, trilled
like a mock nightingale, and leaped about like a
hooked fish. After the selling of the so-called mitz-
zvožh, I lost all patience with the intolerable sing-song
with which the reader intoned the portion and read
from the Torah and with the innumerable Mi-shebe-
rakh. “Why is this nuisance tolerated in a metrop-
olis P’ I asked my neighbor. “I do not know,” he
answered; “but it takes place in all the synagogues of
New York.” At last the longed-for event took place.
Dr. Lilienthal preached towards the close of the
service. He pleased me very much, for he was an
excellent and popular pulpit orator, used a glowing
diction, and had a dignified carriage; but what he
said about the season of mourning had long since
lost all significance for me, and I was really and truly
moved to mournful feelings, not for the destruction
of Jerusalem, but for the disappearance of Judaism
in the Polish-cabbalistical rabbinism and supernatu-
ralism.
The youngest congregation was the Emanuel con-
gregation. But very little was known of it in New
York. On Sunday, the Ioth of Ab (postponed Tishah
à’aé), an acquaintance took me to the place where
the beginnings of the temple were laid. We entered
a small hall, a flight of stairs above the ground.
There we found about fifty men and thirty women,
REM.INIscENces 23
the latter in a section partitioned off. A boys' choir,
re-enforced by a few men's voices, and a cantor with a
weak tenor voice, sang some compositions of Sulzer
as poorly as in a village synagogue; but dignity and
decorum ruled—the beginning of a better future—
and I breathed easier. Dr. Merzbacher, of blessed
memory, preached. There was nothing in his de-
livery to attract a stranger; but he spoke of the end
of the Galuth, of the morning that was dawning also
for the house of Israel. His words made me feel at
home, although he did not treat the Tishah b'ab as
drastically as I should have wished.
Such was the status of the synagogues of New
York in 1846. Outside of Lilienthal and Merzbacher,
there was not one leader who could read unpunctu-
ated Hebrew, or, with the exception of a few private
individuals whom I shall mention later, had the least
knowledge of Judaism, its history and literature.
One of the most prominent individuals denied em-
phatically that Rashi had written a commentary to
the Book of Samuel, and another, who had just
chanced to buy the Vienna edition of the Yad hacha-
2aqah, and, after having had it most elegantly bound,
had placed it on his parlor table, told me in all seri-
ousness that that book had in fact been written by
Moses Maimonides, and then asked me naively
whether I had ever before seen a copy of this valu-
able work. I found at that time in New York but
three men in private life who possessed any Jewish
or any Talmudical learning; viz., Nussbaum, Gold-
smith, and Falkenau. The first was usually called
Morenu Nussbaum, the last named was the son of
24 Isa AC M. WISE
a Dayan of Fuerth, and Goldsmith was a Dutchman
of goodly Talmudical attainments. Besides these,
there were Joachimson, senior, and Oettlinger, who
possessed some Jewish learning. Otherwise igno-
rance swayed the scepter, and darkness ruled. As
for modern culture, things were little better. No
Jew who had recently immigrated was fitted to oc-
cupy a public position creditably. Among the Portu-
guese Jews there was Mordecai Noah, who had
achieved prominence through his literary and polit-
ical activity. Beyond this, nothing worthy of note
had been accomplished in that quarter. In the mer-
cantile world, Walter, Dittenhoefer, Moses, and Con-
tent were well known; Lehmaier, Seligman, Stett-
heimer, Bernheimer, were as yet unknown begin-
ners; Belmont, Speier, Ballin, Sanders, and others
of the same stripe did not want to pass as Jews
even as long ago as that time; Chatham Square
was a disgrace; Houston Street was a vanity fair;
on the Bowery, on Division, Grand, and other streets
there were small stores owned by Jews; but, on the
whole, the Jew cut no figure. Thus matters stood
in New York in 1846. And when I comprehended
the real position of affairs, I understood why the two
physicians, B. and M., had advised me to have noth-
ing to do with the Jews. Add to this the fact that
I had a good prospect of receiving a professorship
at a prominent college, and it will be readily under-
stood that I began to waver in my intentions of pur-
suing the rabbinical career. I talked the matter over
with Joachimson, and he begged me earnestly not to
withdraw my energies from Judaism, for the very
REM.INIscENCE's 25
reason that it stood in such need of them. There-
upon I resolved firmly to devote myself entirely to
Judaism, to rise or to fall with it. I thought of my
dream, and took courage.
On the first of July I was introduced to Dr. Merz-
bacher. After a brief interchange of thoughts, I
took a hearty liking to the man, who seemed to me
to be thoroughly sincere. He appreciated the higher
things, and strove to realize them. After he had
narrated to me his sad experiences in New York—
he had been the preacher of the German congrega-
tions before Lilienthal—he asked me, in a hearty and
sympathetic tone, “What do you intend to do here?”
There was an accent of great pity and sympathy in
the question, and I declared openly that I had deter-
mined to remain faithful to my calling. “In case I
fail in this, I will enter upon an academic career;
and if I should not succeed, I will work. I am young,
healthy, active, and have enjoyed a good education.”
“And you intend to preach reform P” he asked, im-
pressively. “I can sacrifice everything except prin-
ciple,” I answered. “Well, then, I wish you luck,”
said Merzbacher; “but I can not prophesy success
for you.” What! et tu Brute? I reflected. You who
preach reform are doubtful of success P That was
a sad blow for me. Later I learned that he received
a salary of but two hundred and fifty dollars per year,
because the congregation could not afford to pay
more. Such were the prospects of the reform move-
ment in New York in 1846. *
On the third of July I was introduced to Mr. von
Eichthal, the editor of the Daily and Weekly Express.
26 Is AAC M. WISE
Through him I became acquainted later on with sev-
eral leaders of the Whig party. He advised me to
pursue a literary career, and promised to render me
assistance. I had, however, decided to remain faith-
ful to my calling, and did not permit myself to be
moved from my purpose. I determined to give pri-
vate instruction in New York until something better
would turn up.
The most pressing question was that of finances.
Whence obtain the money that would enable me to
wait? My wife's brother, Joseph Bloch, now living
in San Francisco, and her cousin, Samuel Glueckauf,
at present in Chicago, whose bride we had brought
with us from Europe, were young, jolly peddlers, who
had little money and many debts. They came to
New York, and offered my wife as much money as
she wanted. Mr. Friedman, my landlord, informed
me that he would not only not press me for the rent,
but would also let me have meat on credit; and so he
did. Lindheim, Walter, Content, and other newly-
made friends also offered me money. All this, how-
ever, did not solve the main problem. I began to
give private lessons. In this, however, I was inter-
rupted erelong. The Professors M. and T., the rich
merchant F., and the ex-Jew N., all of whom I con-
sidered honest, cultured men, showed themselves ex-
ceedingly gracious and obliging, recommended me
highly, and introduced me into good families; but
soon they gave me to understand that a few drops of
water and a confession of Christianity would open
for me the way to all hearts. I retired after I had
explained my standpoint to the learned Professor T.
REM.INIscENCE's 27
Private instruction was poorly paid among the Jews
of New York; but I was content, because my wants
were few. I would have continued thus for some
time longer, had not the following occurrence taken
place: -
“Are you a good preacher?” Dr. Lilienthal asked
me one day.
“At home they considered me a passable pulpit
orator,” I answered, not without hesitancy, for I
did not want to preach in New York for various
reasons, and had already refused several invitations.
“Well, then, go on Thursday to New Haven, in
the State of Connecticut,” said Dr. Lilienthal. “They
have invited me to dedicate a synagogue there. I
can not leave New York. Go and do your best.”
On the Thursday morning designated, I found
myself on the steamer that sailed for New Haven,
and I was received very cordially. Leopold Wasser-
man, of blessed memory, whose poems appeared in
the early volumes of the Deborah, had seceded from
the congregation with several others, had organized
a new congregation, and had furnished a hall to be
used as a temporary synagogue. This Leopold Was-
serman was a noble man; a poetically-gifted idealist,
with whom I formed an intimate friendship, which
lasted to the end of his life. Blessed be his memory !
I seemed to myself very small and childish in the
new synagogue of New Haven. I had never preached
in so small a place; but the people treated me very
kindly, and I had taken so lively a fancy to the presi-
dent, Leopold Wasserman, that I spoke as well as
I was able. On Saturday afternoon I had to preach
28 ISAAC M. WISE
also for the old congregation, and a peddler from
Albany who was present complimented me by assur-
ing me that he had heard no better German preacher
in Poland, and that if I would come to Albany my
fortune would be made. I paid little attention to this,
for I had no idea where Albany was. However, when
on Sunday evening Mr. Wasserman praised my
efforts highly in the name of the congregation, and
in testimony thereof handed me sixty dollars, I began
to feel elated; for, in the first place, I was so innocent
as to believe every word that my courteous friend
said in his complimentary address; and, secondly, on
the basis of Bohemian coinage the sixty dollars I
had received amounted to three hundred gulden.
Monday morning I left New Haven in the best of
spirits and with my pocket full of money. On board
the steamer I became acquainted with the preacher,
Mr. Isaacs, of New York. He lectured me, the
greenhorn, at length, and in a highly-edifying man-
ner, because, as he had heard, I had said something
in New Haven about reform and progress. Happily,
I did not understand everything that he said, and
what I did understand was unintelligible to me from
my standpoint. In the next number of the then only
existing Jewish monthly, The Occident, a paragraph
of somewhat the following tenor appeared: “There
has arrived from Germany a young schoolmaster
who also preaches, and is said to possess some He-
brew learning.” Upon reading this, I thought it was
quite stupid in him to have made my arrival the sub-
ject of a public notice.
In New Haven I had also formed the acquaintance
REM.INIscENCES 29
of a certain Mr. Robinson, of New York, who wished
to take me and my family into his home, and keep
us until I had accepted a position. My wife would
not consent to it. We took the will for the deed.
Upon my return home, I informed my wife in the
most enthusiastic manner how wonderfully I had suc-
ceeded. She laughed at me. This was at that time
the best medicine for me. She laughed at my glow-
ing satisfaction and childish contentment, because she
had too lofty an opinion of her husband.
The next morning I went to Dr. Lilienthal to re-
port. But he knew all that had taken place. He had
received a letter from New Haven.
“You can go to Syracuse next week,” said he.
“There also a synagogue is to be dedicated. They
wished me to come; but I have written them that I
would send you.”
The offer was most welcome to me. I wanted to
get away from New York. J. D. Walter, who was
present, said he would give me a letter to his brother-
in-law, Moses Schloss, who was president of the con-
gregation in Albany, through which place I would
have to pass. “If you leave a week earlier, and re-
main in Albany over Saturday, every one will be
pleased to hear you preach. They have heard no
preacher for years.”
Armed with a letter from Lilienthal to Syracuse,
and from Walter to Albany, I boarded on Thursday
morning the steamer that went up the Hudson to
Albany. I parted very reluctantly from my wife; for
she, who fulfilled the wifely ideal of my youthful im-
agination so completely, and to whom I clung with
3o Is AAC M. WISE
my whole heart, had become still dearer to me, now
that she had followed me so trustingly and without
a word of objection to an utterly strange land, and
that, too, though she was the only daughter of well-
to-do parents, and was well justified in indulging bet-
ter prospects. Yet I boarded the steamer with a
joyous spirit and a light heart, for my fancy wove
for me the picture of a future in the interior of the
country. An inexplicable force directed my attention
to the interior of America, and I rejoiced at the splen-
did opportunity before me, for Syracuse seemed to
me far distant from New York.
I have seen and experienced quite a great deal in
life, but I can recall no impression that can be at all
compared with that which I received on that day. The
steamer seemed to be a floating palace, the people
higher beings, and the Hudson a second Chideqel,
flowing out of the Garden of Eden. The lofty walls
of rock above New York seemed to shut off the Old
World, and the steep heights in the vicinity of West
Point were for me the mighty door, the giant gate
opening into the New World. Overcome with awe
and devotion, I could have embraced every moun-
tain, every rock. Then we reached the broad valley
near Rhinebeck. There I awoke from my day-
dreams, for there the New World seemed to begin.
“All hail, thou great and glorious land l’” I cried out,
so loud that a Yankee standing by asked me, “You
speak French P’’ I suppose I answered him; but I
do not know what I said. Most likely he did not
understand me, for he did not disturb me again.
REM.INIscences 3 I
When I began to feel somewhat more prosaic, I
saw a man who seemed to be a countryman of mine,
walking through the boat anxiously and searchingly.
“Have you lost anything?” I asked.
“Have I lost anything? Wie heisst? Bewonos, I
have lost everything !” he cried; “I have lost my
English language.”
“You have lost the English language? I do not
understand.”
“You do not understand? Neither do I, and
therein lies my misfortune. I arrived at New York,
and after I had paid all my debts I had twenty dol-
lars and three shillings left. So they said to me,
‘Cohen, you must buy a basket for six shillings, and
twenty dollars’ worth of kuddel muddel, what we call
in German Meshowes, and then you must go peddling
in the country.’ I cry out, ‘The country speaks Eng-
lish, and I do not. How in the world can I get along?'
“That makes no difference,” they told me; ‘we will
write everything down for you.’ Well, they gave me
the basket filled with kuddel muddel, and wrote down
for me the English language on a piece of paper, and
sent me to Hudson. Now I have lost the English
language, and am perfectly helpless.”
“If that is all you are in need of, I can help you.”
With these words I comforted the tortured fellow.
He brought some paper. I told him to write down
in German the terms of which he required the Eng-
lish equivalent, and translated these words for him.
He now had his English language again, although he
insisted on pronouncing p for b, f for d, and k for g.
32 Isa AC M. WISE
He persisted in saying, “You fant to puy somdink?
Can I shtay mit you all nacht?” Correct him as I
would, my words fell on deaf ears.
Upon the landing of the steamer at Albany,
drivers, dealers, landlords, railroad agents, peddlers,
newsboys, crowded about and pulled the “green” pas-
sengers hither and thither. All this brought me back
to earth from the heights of poesy. Opposite the
landing I saw my evening “star” inviting me to rest.
Stern's (Star's) hotel, as they had informed me in
New York, was situated opposite the landing, and
thither I betook myself immediately. Stern sees
standing before him a lean, pale young man, with
long hair, clad in black, and quite embarrassed.
He calls his wife. She comes, receives me in a most
friendly manner, and takes me into a room that was
supposedly a parlor. She would, of course, have
liked to know all about me at once; but I, as usual,
spoke very little. My short answers embarrassed the
woman, and she sent for Moses Schloss, the Aristotle
of Albany Jewry. He came, accompanied by Henry
Blattner, the second in the high council. “You are,
I presume, the newly-arrived rabbi, and have a letter
addressed to me by my brother-in-law Walter,” said
Schloss. I concluded from this that Walter must
have written to him. I delivered my letter, which
they both read. After a brief conversation, I was in-
vited to preach on Saturday. It is self-understood
that I accepted the invitation. The two gentlemen
impressed me favorably. They seemed to be intelli-
gent, cordial, open, and frank. Schloss informed me
later that he took me to be quite a Shlemihl. Except-
REM.INIscENCES 33
ing these two gentlemen and the peddler whom I
had met in New Haven, no one concerned himself
about me. On Friday I saw the sights of the city,
and in the evening I read undisturbed. Saturday
morning Moses Schloss took me to the synagogue
on Herkimer Street. It was an old wooden building,
with the entrance from the north. The ark was on
the east, the Bimah in front of the ark, and the
benches in four squares on the two sides, so that
One-half of the congregation looked northward, and
the other half southward. A Mr. Traub sang the old
tunes, and the sexton, Levy, sold the Mitgwoth, and
attended to all the business. There was order and
decorum as far as these were possible under existing
circumstances. I preached on a text taken from the
Scriptural portion of the day; but made no marked
impression on the congregation. In the afternoon
Schloss said to me: “You preach very well; but you
will not do for these people; they did not understand
you. Still, if you wish to come to us for the holidays,
I promise you a fee of one hundred dollars.” I
promised to write to him from Syracuse about it,
because I had determined to spend the holidays in
Cincinnati. I had met a Cincinnatian in New York,
who praised Cincinnati to the skies. Although
Schloss paid me a respectable sum of money on Sun-
day, and invited me once again to return for the holi-
days, which Blattner, Sporterg, and others also did,
it was perfectly clear to me that I had failed in Al-
bany. This aggravated and humiliated me. I left
the city as early as possible Monday morning, and
boarded for the first time an American railroad train
in order to travel to Syracuse. 3
II
HE railroad train, with its splendid long cars,
was a great novelty, and diverted me for a little
while; but it was not long ere I again succumbed
to a feeling of despondency, which not even the
fertile and charming Mohawk Valley, with its many
beautiful towns, could dissipate. I had a small
Pentateuch with two Targumim and Rashi in my
valise. I took it out, hoping thereby to regain
my equilibrium. On the same seat with me sat
an inquisitive Yankee, who regarded me curi-
ously, and finally asked what sort of a book that was.
I told him. Then he inquired in how many lan-
guages all this was written. I explained that the text
was Hebrew, the two paraphrases two Aramaic dia-
lects, and the commentary rabbinical Hebrew. The
fact that I could read so many languages quite took
his breath away. When a little later he learned that
I had arrived in the country but recently, he said:
“Ah, now I know who you are; you are a Jewish
bishop.” I explained to him that the Jews had no
hierarchy; but he drew a New Haven newspaper out
of his pocket, and showed me black on white that a
Jewish bishop, Wess or Wiss, who had lately arrived
from Jerusalem had dedicated the synagogue in New
Haven. I remonstrated in vain. He continued to
call me bishop, bought lemonade, ice-cream, and
everything else that could be procured at the railroad
34
REM.INIscENCES 35
stations, and treated me in quite a princely manner.
It is more than likely that he understood but half
of what I said, for my English was decidedly Ger-
manic. We arrived at Syracuse at a late hour. My
friendly fellow-passenger accompanied me to a hotel,
spoke to the proprietor in my behalf, and then took
his leave. Upon looking over the newspaper on the
following morning, I found to my astonishment the
following notice: “N. traveled yesterday from Albany
to this city in company with the Jewish Bishop Wess
or Wiss (the pronunciation of the name is uncertain),
who has lately arrived from Jerusalem.” This was
followed by a personal description, and closed with
the remark that I spoke excellently at least a dozen
languages, including English. I had thus an experi-
ence similar to that of Lord Byron. I awoke one
morning, and found myself famous. I had no time
to be vexed at the untruths, for I had scarcely read
the notice when a Yankee approached me, and asked
whether I was the Jewish bishop. “I am no bishop.”
“But a rabbi,” said he. Upon my affirming this, he
continued: “We here in America have never seen a
rabbi, although we have been told that there are sev-
eral in New York, and the rabbi is certainly also a
bishop.” Thus I became also a bishop for this indi-
vidual. He told me that he had become converted to
Judaism of his own accord, that he observed the
Jewish customs, and had built upon his estate a booth
according to the Mosaic command, wherein he held
service with his family, and that he visited the syna-
gogue occasionally, especially on the Day of Atone-
ment. This was all literally true, as I learned after-
36 IsAAC M. WISE
wards. The conversation was interrupted by the
arrival of a committee. These gentlemen, who had
been delegated by the congregation to call upon me,
took me to Gerson's kosher hotel, where I spent two
weeks. I can recall the name of but one of them, a
Mr. Henochsberg. The builder had not finished the
synagogue at the promised time, and the dedication
had to be postponed one week.
During my stay in Syracuse I learned much of
importance, for it was my first opportunity for inti-
mate contact with the people among whom I was to
live and work, and I had ample time to observe and
study them. It did not take me long to view the salt-
works, the Indians, the canal, and the other sights.
These were of much less interest to me than the peo-
ple themselves. I devoted my time to studying and
becoming fully acquainted with them. I found there
several people of culture, notably a Mr. Stein, a most
intelligent man, who explained the situation thor-
oughly. He was as witty as he was intelligent; he
was well read, and understood human nature. We
grew acquainted rapidly, and felt a mutual respect
for one another. He took charge of me, introduced
me to the people, called my attention to their merits
and their faults, so that I began to comprehend the
lay of the land.
After I had learned the condition of affairs from
the friends who called upon me (the people spoke
unreservedly), I pondered upon what I had heard
when I was left alone. My experiences in New
Haven, Albany, and Syracuse were of the most signal
importance. These German Jewish immigrants,
REM.INISCENCES 37
mused I, have not lost their love for Judaism under
the influence of their new political and social con-
ditions. Hence their desire for organization. They
form congregations, build synagogues, and feel a
longing for the living word.
“The state of affairs is not so bad as Drs. B. and
M. imagine. There are life and energy in this new
Judaism, whether now it be conscious or unconscious.
The people lack culture; they do not possess a true
appreciation of the conditions among which they live.
'Tis well. I have found my vocation and my mission.”
Thus I mused, and I painted the future in golden
hues. I had just begun to interpret my wonderful
dream when I was called to the dinner-table. That
afternoon I formed the acquaintance of Stein,
Henochsberg, and other intelligent people, among
whom was also the chagam Gutman, who had arrived
recently from Waldorf.
One afternoon I met on the street a man with a
large, old straw hat drawn far over his face. He
was clad in a perspired linen coat, and carried two
large tin boxes on his shoulders. He had a large
clay pipe in his mouth, a pair of golden spectacles on
his nose, and dragged himself along with painful
effort. I looked at him closely, and recognized my
friend Stein. Upon noticing my astonishment, he
said, smilingly: “Most of the German and Polish
Jews in America look like this, and the rest of them
did till a very short time ago.” As he was going
homeward I accompanied him to his house. A quar-
ter of an hour later he emerged completely meta-
38 Isaac M. Wise
morphosed. He looked genteel again. He informed
his wife laughingly that I had met him in his peddler's
costume. He now described to me graphically the
misery and the drudgery of the peddler's life. Our
people in this country, said he, may be divided into
the following classes: (1) The basket peddler—he is
as yet altogether dumb and homeless; (2) the trunk-
carrier, who stammers some little English, and hopes
for better times; (3) the pack-carrier, who carries
from one hundred to one hundred and fifty pounds
upon his back, and indulges the thought that he will
become a business man some day. In addition to
these, there is the aristocracy, which may be divided
into three classes: (1) The wagon-baron, who ped-
dles through the country with a one or two horse
team; (2) the jewelry-count, who carries a stock of
watches and jewelry in a small trunk, and is consid-
ered a rich man even now ; (3) the store-prince, who
has a shop, and sells goods in it. At first one is the
slave of the basket or the pack; then the lackey of
the horse, in order to become finally the servant
of the shop.
“But what about the people of intelligence?” asked
I. “In America,” said he, “a man must be either all
head or all back. Those who are all head remain in
Europe; those who are in this country must be all
back, and forego all intellectual pursuits.” “But
why?” I asked further. “In order to become rich,”
said he. “The foreigner must either become rich, or
go to the wall; he has no alternative. The end and
aim of all striving in this country is to become rich;
REM.INISCENCEs 39
everything else is secondary. Home, friends, society,
honor, religion, knowledge, yes, even pleasure and
enjoyment, are all of slight import compared with
this. Money, much money, more money, this it is
that moves the mind and controls the activities of the
body.” He continued in this strain, and drew a pic-
ture that was most disagreeable to me. “All spiritual
treasures, then, are sacrificed to this chase for ma-
terial gain,” cried I. “If so, then tell me why these
people form congregations and build synagogues?”
“O, they do this from inherited habit,” rejoined
Stein. “This one wishes to become parnass, and that
one a trustee, in order to be able to give orders and
make his importance felt. He saw this at home, and
imitates it here. There is no earnestness, no spirit,
no idealism in the whole proceeding.”
“Let us be satisfied that the outer shell still ex-
ists,” continued I. “Perhaps we shall be able to fill
it again. If this one habit has persisted, it is quite
unlikely that all others have disappeared. I intend
to revive the good habits that have become weak-
ened.”
I held similar conversations with Stein almost daily
for two weeks. Although his experience was very
discouraging, yet it was most instructive for me. But
everywhere in the community I came across life and
excitement. Everybody was looking forward joy-
fully to the dedication of the synagogue. A Mr.
Oppenheimer, who had but recently arrived from
Europe to live with his children, worked so assidu-
ously and so industriously at the decoration of the
new synagogue, that before my departure I left him
4.O Isa AC M. WISE
a written paper conferring the chaber degree upon
him. This I never did again.” I went to Niagara
for two days with my American Mosaic Jew, in order
to see the great wonder of the world, and when I
returned to Syracuse I found that quite a number
of friends had come to the city in order to be present
at the dedication. It appeared to me now that the
spirit was not entirely quenched, and that there were
still many glowing sparks that could be fanned into
flame. I concluded that Stein had not learned to
know everybody, and later he confessed this himself.
Accordingly, I went to work eagerly.
The dedication took place on the Friday and Satur-
day preceding the Jewish New-Year in 1846, and was
a great and joyous festival for the Jews of Syracuse.
Everything passed off well, and the newspapers
teemed with praise. All my instructions had been
obeyed with one exception; viz., to omit a certain
prayer on Sunday morning, called makhnise rachamim.
I was completely satisfied with Syracuse, and con-
tributed, to the best of my ability, to the success of
the celebration and the organization of the congre-
gation. It was now so near to Rosh Hashanah that
I was compelled to leave"for Albany, and take advan-
tage of the offer made me by Moses Schloss. I
would rather have gone West; but it was too late.
Accordingly, I went to Albany by the evening train.
It occurred to me now that I had failed in Albany.
In Syracuse I had been more successful; but I had
not awakened any enthusiasm, and I was dissatisfied
* These reminiscences were written before the Hebrew Union College
opened. From 1879–1899, Dr. Wise conferred this degree every year on the
graduates of the Preparatory Department of the College.—[ED.
REM.INIscENCES 4. I
with myself. “Where lies the fault?” I asked myself.
“You certainly do not wish to fail in Albany a second
time.” I pondered upon what Stein had told me,
compared this with my own experiences, and drew a
picture of the public. I came to the conclusion that
logical and rhetorical addresses were beyond the peo-
ple, and a special pulpit diction incomprehensible to
it. “You will have to speak as though you were
teaching school, possibly an upper class; yes, that
will be about right.” I determined to do this. “Now,
as to the contents. What shall I say to the people?”
Stein has given me ample material, I mused. I will
reprove them for all the faults of which Stein accuses
them. There will be undoubtedly many present who
will be affected seriously. My resolution was formed.
I shall moralize, I shall thunder; it will do no harm.
I took some visiting cards out of my pocket, and
sketched a half-dozen sermons on texts suitable for
the holidays. Upon my arrival at Albany in the
morning, I was not only provided with sermons for
all the holidays, but I had transformed myself com-
pletely to the American pulpit orator of that time.
True, I was not yet certain of the success of my plan,
for the result still hung in the balance; but I was so
thoroughly convinced of its successful outcome that
I wrote to my wife: “I shall preach to-morrow in
Albany with great success, and prove to you that the
same old God watches over us also in America.”
My presence in Albany aroused no particular at-
tention; no one concerned himself about me with the
exception of the officers of the congregation and two
or three others. My landlady, Mrs. Stern, it is true,
42 Isaac M. WISE
formed an exception to this general indifference, for
she was much concerned for my well-being (I looked
pale and sickly), as well as that of my wife, my child,
my mother, and all my near and distant relatives in
direct and lateral lines. She spoke much and in a
friendly manner, as indeed it is quite necessary for a
landlady to do whose better half was capable of
speaking but little, that little even being surly and
insignificant. She succeeded in entertaining me. I
paid no attention to what she said, for entirely differ-
ent thoughts were agitating me; but when she kept
silence (and she did pause occasionally), I recognized
the truth of a saying that has not been enunciated
clearly enough : “It is indeed good for man to be
alone.” Her pauses gave spice to her conversation.
A large congregation had assembled in the syna-
gogue in the evening. They listened to the old
Rosh Hashanah melodies, which appealed none the
less strongly to me, and brought back the sounds I
had learned to love in my youth. Therefore I did
not notice that I was the object of curious attention,
and when I did notice this at last, I became so em-
barrassed that I was happy when the last note of the
Yigalal sounded, and the people wished one another
all that was good. When somewhat later I thought
of the faces that I had seen in my audience, I im-
agined that I was still in Syracuse. Everything
passed off well in the morning. There was much
speaking and singing, blessing and promising. The
shacharith chagan, it is true, could not sing well.
His breathing was too labored; but he read Hebrew
so poorly that he would have been able to conduct
REM.INIscENCES 43
the service successfully in the most orthodox con-
gregation. It is well known that poor Hebrew read-
ing and indecorum were as necessary an accompani-
ment of Jewish orthodoxy as was dog Latin of
Catholic orthodoxy, and the poorest imaginable
translation of the Psalms, of Scotch Presbyterianism.
And not an iota of this necessary accompaniment
could be omitted.
When my turn came I stepped to the improvised
pulpit (there were no pulpits in American synagogues
in those days, since the congregations gave no
thought to employing preachers) with the firm de-
termination to move the hearts of the assembled mul-
titude, and I spoke like an old pastor whose flock
threatened to dissolve. Hagar and Ishmael served as
symbols for body and soul. I characterized culture
and religion as bread and water, and likened the
wandering in the wilderness to the course of human
life. “And she went and lost her way,” was the first
knotty point. Here I was able to bring all my weap-
ons into play. I passed in review all the faults and
mistakes of all the centuries, and the listening audi-
tory which had never heard such a flood of words
was completely overwhelmed and dumfounded.
Thereupon followed the second phrase, “And she
threw the child under the terebinth.” This I applied
to the inner remorse of the sinner, and expatiated
upon this until the sobbing in the gallery became so
audible that I felt compelled to stop. Finally I spoke
of the angel and the spring. These I called the voice
of conscience and the perennial fount of religion, etc.,
which unite mother and child at last in comfort and
44 Isaac M. WISE
hope, and lead to a beautiful future. I concluded with
an expression of the hoped-for reconciliation and bro-
therhood of mankind. As I left the pulpit and glanced
at the congregation I felt triumphant, for it seemed
to me that I had struck the right note this time. At
the close of the service the people crowded about me,
Overwhelmed me with congratulations and compli-
ments, accompanied me as a procession from the
synagogue to Stern's hostelry, and well-nigh crushed
me beneath the weight of South German Jewish
phrases, until Moses Schloss finally took pity on me
and carried me home to dinner. Upon arriving there,
I was about to breathe easier when the noble house-
wife, the amiable and kind-hearted Madame Amelia
Schloss, came, and thereupon another woman, and
still another, and still another, all of whom sang the
same tune, which ended with the agreeable cadenza
of a fine yom tob dinner at two o'clock. Immediately
after dinner, Messrs. Minster and New witter, the pre-
siding officers of the second Jewish congregation of
Albany, came, and requested me to preach in their
synagogue on the morrow. Since Schloss agreed to
the proposition, I accepted the invitation, and on the
following day policemen had to be placed before the
doors of the synagogue for fear lest the great mass
of people would break down the old house, the syna-
gogue being on the second floor of a building that
was not very strong. My fortune was made as far as
Albany was concerned, and the second day of Rosh
Hashanah I dined at Minster's house, which meant
much at that time.
Immediately on the afternoon of the first day nu-
REM.INIscENCEs 45
merous emissaries came to begin negotiations with
me. They wanted me to remain in Albany. Among
them was a Pole, Mr. Goldmann, now residing in
New Orleans. His action agitated the whole com-
munity. He was a Free Mason, and well acquainted
with all the celebrities. He was looked upon as a
lamdan, qatsin, and chasid, and his word carried
great weight. I had had but a few minutes’ conver-
sation with Mr. Goldmann, and did not know that he
espoused my cause so warmly. There was an an-
tipathy at that time in America to rabbis and preach-
ers in general, just as there was a prejudice against
cultured people of any kind, because they were looked
upon as unpractical and helpless. The peddler's pack
was too heavy for them, work too hard, and their
learning profited naught. There was no room in the
synagogue for preachers and rabbis. The chagan
was the Reverend. He was all that was wanted. The
congregations desired nothing further. The chagan
was reader, cantor, and blessed everybody for chai
pasch, which amounted to 4% cents. He was teacher,
butcher, circumciser, blower, gravedigger, Secretary.
He wrote the amulets with the names of all the angels
and demons on them for women in confinement,
read shiur for the departed sinners, and played cards
or dominoes with the living; in short, he was a
kol-bo, an encyclopedia, accepted bread, turnips, cab-
bage, potatoes as a gift, and peddled in case his salary
was not sufficient. He was sui generis, half priest,
half beggar, half oracle, half fool, as the occasion de-
manded. The congregations were satisfied, and there
was no room for preacher or rabbi. Among all the
46 Isa AC M. WISE
chagamim whom I learned to know at that time, there
was not one who had a common-school education or
possessed any Hebrew learning.
The situation in Albany was peculiar. They
wanted me in Albany, but not as rabbi. They desired
me to preach and teach. The formal request was
made on the second day, thus: “Write a petition to
the congregation, setting forth that you wish to re-
main here, preach, and open a school. This evening
we have a general meeting, and you will be elected
unanimously.”
My answer read: “If you wish to elect me, you
must elect me as rabbi. That is my province. I will
preach and open a school. I leave to you the deter-
mination of the amount of salary, because I do not
know how much is needed here. I will write no pe-
tition. I have never sought a position, and will never
do so.” To this determination I have remained faith-
ful. I have never sought a position, nor permitted
others to do so for me. My conditions were made.
I would enter into no negotiations. In the evening
I left for New York, as I wished to see my family
again. Upon my reaching home in New York the
next morning, my landlord, Friedman, came to meet
me with beaming countenance. “I congratulate you,”
said he ; “you have been elected unanimously in Al-
bany as rabbi. Your wife has the telegram.” I spent
the week in New York, and returned to Albany for
Yom Kippur. My family came to Albany on chol
hammoed, and we moved into the house, No. 77
Ferry Street.
_ My position in Albany was not brilliant financially.
REMINISCENces 47
My salary was two hundred and fifty dollars a year,
and nine dollars for each pupil in my school. Albany
was poor. There were four firms; viz., Schloss,
Blattner, Cohen, and Sporterg; two grocers, Schmidt
and Schwartz, and several mechanics. All the other
members of the congregation were peddlers. The
yearly congregational dues amounted to six dollars,
besides shreoder money. There were but few families
in Albany that had parlors furnished with carpets,
cane-seated chairs, etc. The majority lived in two
or three rooms. A silk dress was a rarity among the
women. The men smoked three-cent cigars, and
drank beer at three cents a glass. They played domi-
noes for an hour in order to decide who was to pay
the six, nine, or twelve cents. Yet, despite this, the
congregation furnished my house, plainly it is true,
but to their satisfaction, and this sufficed for my wife
and myself. I rented a house for two hundred dollars
per annum, sub-rented the top story, occupied the
second, and utilized the first for school-rooms.
The school opened with seventy-six pupils (very
young for the most part), on the day after Simchath
Torah, in two rooms, in one of which an English
teacher taught; in the other I conducted the instruc-
tion. By spring I had one hundred and twenty pupils,
divided into three classes. I had two assistants. The
children were very young, and entirely untaught.
Judaism particularly was unknown to them. A wild
youngster of about eight years of age, who was quite
unmanageable, came home one day laboring under
great excitement, and said to his father “Father, that
Dutchman of a teacher is a fine sort of a fellow ! He
48 IsAAC M. WISE
does not even believe in Jesus Christ.” The father
told me the joke, and laughed heartily about it. In
the course of time there went forth from this school
a large number of young people, who are now among
the noblest women and most prominent men in the
land. At that time, however, no one could have
dreamed that the young people whom I loved so
heartily would ever amount to anything, for the sur-
roundings were not very promising. But the young
people soon became my joy, my hope, my pride, my
all, and they were singularly attached to me. I be-
came ere long an experienced schoolmaster, and
found contentment in the calling. This filled my time
better than the weekly sermon, to which I frequently
gave no thought till Saturday morning.
The school supported and satisfied me in the sad
period between 1846 and 1850, and in the days of
bitter struggle it was a place of refuge, where peace,
rest, and love encompassed me. I had good teachers
to assist me. Some of them are now prominent per-
sonages, such as Glouber of California, Bishop Ken-
nedy, and the prolific writer, Madame Cook, who
published beautiful literary productions anonymously
even at that time. I was happy in my school, for I
was undisturbed there. The school system was very
poor in America in those days, and the number of my
pupils was limited only by the space at my disposal.
Accordingly, I was not an object of compassion in
spite of my small salary, which, however, had been
raised to four hundred dollars in the following spring.
My wife and I lived contented and happy in the new
home, and were surrounded soon by a goodly number
of friends.
III
E idealists are perfect builders so long as only
air-castles are to be erected. We paint in
Chinese fashion without shade or shadow, and, like
the pious man in the fable, we build palaces over
night. We imagine everything to be charming and
easy of accomplishment. Because we wish the good,
we believe that everything is good which we wish,
and that all men wish the good. But when it comes
to prosaic and actual building, and reality with all
its hideous grimaces comes upon the scene, our cour-
age fails; we are disillusionized, our dreams fade,
and many of us retire even before the battle begins,
and bind up our imaginary wounds. This was al-
most my fate in Albany. I need not say that as
idealist, dreamer, and enthusiast I had shaped all
things as they ought to have been. The world ap-
peared to me most excellent, just as I wished it to
be. The reforming spirit was innate in me; it was
my foremost characteristic. In addition to this, I
was an enthusiast on the subjects of America and
freedom, and was convinced that every one thought
and felt just as I did. Consequently I could begin
at once to reform and to improve the world. I vented
my views awkwardly and unreservedly. After I had
spoken in public a number of times, and the auditors
did not praise me nor sing hallelujah, I began to de-
4 49
5O ISAAC M. WISE
spair, and to entertain seriously the thought of re-
tiring from the pulpit. Whereas, I was too dreamy
and too impractical to understand, and to take the
world as it was. I imagined that the people did not
comprehend the nobler things. I began to grow
disheartened after I had delivered a few sermons. I
was aroused out of this lethargic condition by the
following circumstance:
Dr. Lilienthal had taken the initiative towards
founding an institute that was to be of vital import
for American Judaism. He had formed the idea of
founding a synagogal authoritative body, a sort of
consistory, that was to go by the Old Jewish name of
Beth Din. The three chosen ones—Wise, Felsenheld,
and Kohlmeyer—were consecrated as the American
Beth Din by Dr. Lilienthal in a powerful address on
a Sabbath morning during divine service. He him-
self was to be the head of the Beth Din. Although the
name did not please me altogether, still I acquiesced,
because I felt that only good could result from the
earnest co-operation of the men named. The work
to be done was apportioned at the first session on
Sunday. Lilienthal was to prepare a history for Jew-
ish schools, Felsenheld a cathechism, Kohlmeyer a
Hebrew Grammar, and Wise a Minhag America. The
Beth Din was to reassemble in the spring of 1847,
immediately after Passover, and each one was to have
his work ready. I began to comprehend, through
the medium of interchange of views with my col-
leagues, that reform could be accomplished only by
introducing reforms; that is, that the act must accom-
pany the spoken word, because the general run of
REM.INIscENCEs 5 I
people understand the act better than the clearest
word. Furthermore, Dr. Lilienthal had ordered from
Vienna a copy of Sulzer's Shir Tziyon; but his mighty
Parnass declared obstinately that he opposed once
and for all its introduction into the chief synagogue.
I listened to the bitter war of words, and put an end
to it by buying the Shir Tziyon and taking it home
with me.
I have used the expression, “Mighty Parnass,” and
I claim that it is not an exaggerated term. At that
time the parnass was an autocrat in the congregation.
He was president, shamash, chagan, rabbi. He ruled
the quick and the dead. He was the law and the
revelation, the lord and the glory, the majesty and
the spiritual guardian of the congregation. He suf-
fered no rival; all were subject to him. This was an
inheritance from olden times, brought to these shores
from the small European congregations.
A correct conception of the power and autocracy
of the parnass in those days can be formed from the
following occurrence: Isaac Leeser, who was the
lumen mundi of American Jewry at that time, was not
permitted to preach in his own synagogue without
the permission of the parnass, because he had been
elected chagan and not chakham of the Portuguese
congregation, and in truth there was once quite an
uproar because Leeser preached without such per-
mission. I formed the acquaintance of a number of
autocrats of this ilk. Their demeanor was astonish-
ingly pompous and ridiculous. These people were
serious obstacles in the path of progress, because as
a 11s11al thing they were vely ignorant and narrow-
52 Isa AC M. WISE
minded. The eagerness to become parnass was the
fundamental cause of the multiplication of congrega-
tions in the cities.
I was spared this annoyance in Albany. Moses
Schloss and I were too young to be domineering,
and we soon became too close friends to put any
obstacle into one another's way. The second par-
mass was and is a thoroughly good man, who was
always with us, and the remaining members of the
directory, of whom I can recall but two at present—
viz., Joseph Sporterg and Abraham Westheimer, of
blessed memory—were not less well-disposed and
friendly. We were all of about one age and one way
of thinking, and agreed readily among ourselves. We
had already come to the conclusion that a resolution
calling for an appropriation for the purpose of form-
ing and training a choir should be presented at the
general meeting of the congregation on Chanukkah.
When I, provided with a copy of Sulzer's Shir Tziyon,
of which there were possibly but two copies in Amer-
ica, returned from New York, I began to idealize
in a reforming and world-improving way. The con-
gregation voted fifty dollars for a temporary music
teacher at the general meeting, and I heard in my im-
agination organ, orchestra, and brilliant oratorios
resound in the synagogue, in place of the antiquated
sing song. German music who will not listen en-
chanted P Sulzer's songs who will not worship?
The great violinist Topp was engaged the very
next day at fifty cents an hour, and the voices were
tried one after the other. But, perfidious fortune 1
in all of Albany there was not one person who could
REMINISCENCEs 53
sing, with the exception of two bassos; and since
no choir could be formed out of two bassos, I was
put on my mettle. The two bassos were Lewis
Beckel, at present in New York, and Albert Traub,
at present in West Virginia. I determined that the
school children would have to sing Soprano and alto,
and so the older boys and girls received musical in-
struction three times a week. It proved a difficult
task; but it succeeded. The choir was ready in a
few months, even before Pesach, and sang for the
first time on a Friday evening. The whole com-
munity was in a state of feverish excitement; men,
women, and children flocked to the synagogue; yes,
the choir sang; but, I pray you, do not ask how. It
made no difference to our chagan whether he began
or ended a few notes lower or higher; he passed with
surprising ease from one key to another, and the
choir was expected to keep pace with him. The ship-
wrecked notes were mixed up fearfully and wonder-
fully, until finally every one sang ad libitum, and
stopped only when the text was finished. However,
there had been singing; there was a choir, and every
one took for granted that the singing would improve.
Albany was inspired musically. Now the serious
question arose as to what was to be done with all the
prayers, since the music and the sermon took up so
much of the time. We held a post mortem examina-
tion on the piutum, qinmoth and slichoth. My answer
to the question put me by the directory on this sub-
ject was: Since the authors of those different liturg-
ical pieces were all alike holy and learned, I do not
feel justified in discriminating among them. I there-
54 IsAAC M. WISE.
fore recommend that all these liturgical selections be
dispensed with. This recommendation was con-
curred in at the next congregational meeting in ref-
erence to all the services, excepting those of Rosh
Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
Poor as the choir was, it still was the immediate
cause of Our getting rid of all the mediaeval rubbish
at once. In this manner synagogal reform began in
1847. True, there was opposition; but the opposition
was outvoted, although it was impossible to silence it.
Thus, e. g., we had in our midst a pious Ashkenag,
who had seen many old customs in Germany. When
it was resolved that the congregation should seat
itself during the reading from the Torah, this man,
whose name was Moses, made a point of standing,
and that, too, close by the seat of the parnass.
Thereupon the following intermezzo ensued:
Parnass.-"Moses, sit down.”
Moses.—“Hem ’’ (he was not permitted to speak).
Parnass.-"Moses, sit down, or you will be pun-
ished.”
Moses.—“Hem | | |’’
Parnass.-‘‘Moses, you are fined four shillings.”
Moses (astounded).-‘‘Shmad mich gleich went man
bein Leienen sitzen muss.””
But he sat down, for a fine of four shillings was a
rather strong dose for him. The selling of the so-
called Mitzvoth and the calling to the Torah were re-
placed by tickets, and the Misheberakh were reduced
to two, despite all opposition.
* I might just as well be converted at once as to remain seated
during the reading from the Torah.
REMINISCENCES 55
I had worked very hard that winter. I had taught
six hours daily in the school. I had given instruction
in singing three hours weekly. Besides this, I read
English two hours every day, and listened to two
English sermons every Sunday. Despite all this, I
worked industriously at the task allotted to me by
the Beth Din, so that my plan for a Minhag America
was ready in the spring of 1847. I went to New
York either shortly before or shortly after Pesach.
I had my manuscript in my valise; but the Beth Din
was no more. My colleagues had done nothing.
Kohlmeyer went to New Orleans, and the plans came
to naught. I was alone once again, and I regretted
it exceedingly. I complained to Merzbacher; but he
could not be interested in any undertaking outside
of his own congregation. Mr. Von Eichthal, who
was familiar with American conditions, advised me to
pursue practical aims, other friends advised me to the
same effect, and I returned to Albany, discouraged
and despondent. It never occurred to me to prepare
a prayer-book for my own congregation, because I
considered such an autocratic proceeding wrong, and
I am still of the same opinion. I did not wish to sever
the bond of synagogal unity.
After I arrived home I embodied my plan in two
English lectures, which I delivered to a modest circle
of friends, because I did not wish to submit them to
the congregation. But fate decided otherwise. One
of the friends asked me for the manuscript. I gave
it to him, thinking that he wished to read it. He,
however, sent the whole thing to Isaac Leeser. Be-
fore I had given any further thought to the manu-
56 Is AAc M. WISE
script, I saw it, to my astonishment, published ver-
batim et literatim in the Occident, accompanied by long
notes from the pen of the highly incensed editor. In
addition to this, I was called to account for having
introduced a mixed choir into the synagogue. Thus
I was brought into the public eye molens volens,
charged with a dozen stinging accusations. An hour
later I received a letter from an old school friend
who was living in Philadelphia. He frightened me.
He imagined that Leeser, the only representative of
the Jewish press in America, was all-powerful; that
he would soon vanquish me, and drive me from the
field. I looked at my wife and child, and hesitated,
but only for a few minutes. Then I wrote a very
drastic letter to Leeser.
“Aha! they want to drive me from the field,”
mused I as I made ready to write to Leeser. “That
will prove rather difficult; for in the first place I do
not fight, and, secondly, I am not in the field.” The
introduction to my letter to Leeser consisted natu-
rally of high-flown phrases about the spirit of the
age, the irresistible power of progress, the develop-
ment of Judaism, the unconquerable influences of
freedom, etc., all of which must have been extremely
tedious and incomprehensible to Leeser. Coming
to the subject-matter, I referred to my authorities,
cited nine of them, and treated the matter in as
strictly rabbinic-casuistical a manner as though we
lived in the heart of Poland. I wrote in an exceed-
ingly pedantic and excited strain, and in conclusion
mounted the high horse of pathos, and asked Leeser
how it happened that of all the Jews who had emi-
REM.INISCENCES 57
grated to these shores between I62O and 1829 there
were not two hundred families left that belonged to
congregations, while the great majority had disap-
peared among the masses. Leeser never answered
this question, and the Orthodox party owes me the
answer still. Thousands of Jews had emigrated from
Holland, England, Germany, and Poland during these
two centuries. Traces of them are clearly recogniz-
able in hundreds of Christian families; but scarcely
two hundred families of their number are to be found
within the pale of Judaism.
Leeser’s answer to my letter was cold, decided,
and frank. He looked upon progress in Judaism as
unjustifiable; reform he considered to be destruc-
tion, the German rabbis innovators, desirous of tear-
ing down. As for my references to authorities, he
informed me that he did not read unpunctuated He-
brew, and besides he cared but little what different
rabbis may have written, for his Judaism was laid
down in the Bible, the prayer-book, and general cus-
tom. No one has the right to oppose these. He said
that I would have to retrace my steps, or else Juda-
ism would leave me in the lurch.
Upon perusing this letter, I grew very angry at
the thought that a man who could not read unpunc-
tuated Hebrew presumed to direct Jewish affairs in
the rôle of editor and guardian. I intended to write
him this in plain, unvarnished terms. I did not know
America as yet; but I thought it a pity to waste the
paper, since it was impossible to effect any change.
I was very “green.” I have become accustomed to
much worse by this time, and I do not lose my tem-
58 IsAAC M. WISE
per any more because thereof. Among all the editors
of American Jewish papers of my acquaintance, there
is not one who possesses Hebrew learning, and yet
they manage to get along; but, I pray you, ask not
how P
Leeser’s letter taught me a sound lesson. I recog-
nized what might be accomplished in America if one
had a healthy body, a cheerful disposition, and the
desire and capacity for work. This thought spurred
me on to study English style during the summer.
Chief-Justice Wood and Professor Amos Dean, two
celebrated men, the latter the well-known and promi-
nent pupil of Daniel Webster, volunteered to teach
me English rhetoric and criticism during that sum-
mer. Perhaps I ought to explain how I became ac-
quainted with these gentlemen.
I spent the hours which I devoted almost daily
to reading English, either in the State Library or
in the library of the Young Men’s Association, be-
cause these afforded me the best opportunities.
Three personages were prominent in the State Li-
brary: the poet Streeter, who was librarian; Chief-
Justice Wood, who refused to accept any office for
five years, and read theological works in order to
prove to the priests that they are deceived deceivers,
as he put it; and the well-known eccentric Theophilus
Wood, who had been the first to enter and the last
to leave the library for the past fifteen years. This
Theophilus Wood was a lawyer who had been de-
ceived by a fellow-lawyer, by a colonel in whose regi-
ment he had served as lieutenant, and by his sweet-
beart before he had passed his twenty-fifth year.
REM.INIscENCES 59
When he was thirty years of age an old aunt died,
who left him a fortune that yielded him a yearly in-
come of from two to three thousand dollars. He gave
up his practice, occupied two rooms in the third story
of a hotel, and made the State Library his only home.
At the time that I formed his acquaintance he was
the living catalogue of the library, Streeter was
aestheticism personified, and Chief-Justice Wood was
a clear analytical thinker, skeptical, sarcastic, and
pessimistic. This peculiar trio soon accepted me as
a fourth into their company. I must mention also my
neighbors. The Methodist preacher, Sanford, lived
on One side. His wife, a well-known bluestocking,
knew a little Hebrew, specimens of which knowledge
I was compelled to listen to patiently every week.
The two Hazens, father and son, lived on the other
side. The former was a Campbellite preacher, the
latter the publisher of a temperance paper. Sanford
and the elder Hazen addressed me in unctuous con-
versionist speeches, until they recognized that I was
a hopeless case. Thereupon we became good friends,
and left one another unconverted. The younger
Hazen and the whole literary family considered me
quite a scholar. I was not only the first Jew, but
the first German with whom they had ever held social
intercourse. The younger Hazen was a pupil of
Professor Amos Dean, and insisted upon my becom-
ing acquainted with his teacher. The latter, who was
about forty years old, had written a work on psy-
chology in his twentieth year. This had appeared in
Boston, had proven a failure, and had been read by
but few people, of whom, however, I was one. He
6o Isa Ac M. WISE
was well-known as a lawyer and a scholar at that
time. It was only later that he became Professor of
Criminal Law. Dean, an exceedingly cordial man,
treated me like a brother. I was thus enabled to
select my teachers when I made up my mind to study
English style. My choice fell, as I have said, upon
Chief-Justice Wood and Professor Dean. Instead
of reading, I now spent two hours daily with these
gentlemen. It was not long ere I had the oppor-
tunity of putting my studies into practice.
The building on Pearl Street, at present the Anshe
Emeth Temple, was a Baptist Church. The congre-
gation had engaged recently a young preacher who
devoted his two sermons every Sunday to hostile
and fanatical attacks on the Jews and Judaism, al-
though he knew both only by name. When I learned
of this I wrote him a few lines in the presence of my
two clerical neighbors, in which I bade him choose
other and better subjects for his sermons. This had no
effect. On the contrary, he grew more violent, de-
spite the fact that my neighbors remonstrated with
him. I wrote him another letter the following week.
I dated it from the State Library, and left a copy of
it with the two Woods and Streeter. I informed him
of this fact, and had one of the teachers of my school
deliver him the letter. “They are infidels,” said he,
in reference to the Woods and Streeter. “I have even
less regard for them.” He went even further the
following Sunday, although members of his congre-
gation were displeased. The two letters, attested by
the witnesses, appeared in the evening paper of the
following Monday. The letters were accompanied
REM.INIscENCES 61
by a public demand that the denunciations cease; but
it was all to no avail. He could not be brought to
his senses. The following notice appeared in all the
papers the following week: “Three lectures on the
Messiah, with reference to the sermons of Rev. Mr.
N., by the rabbi of the Bethel congregation. The
public, especially the congregation and its pastor, are
invited.” On the evening in question the synagogue
was crowded to the doors by Jews and Christians.
In truth, this was the case on all three occasions.
The fanatical little preacher had to leave his congre-
gation and the city ten days later. His intolerant
and hostile proceeding had outraged the intelligent
people of the city to such a degree that he could no
longer remain in Albany. Strange to say, that very
church was transformed into the Jewish temple three
years later. Isaac Leeser, who had published sev-
eral sharp notices about the schoolmaster in Albany
who preached occasionally, wrote me a conciliatory
letter, and asked me for the three addresses. I sent
them to him, as I had nothing to conceal. The first
of the three addresses appeared in the next number
of the Occident; but even the gods fight in vain against
stupidity. Instead of supporting me vigorously in
my controversy with a malicious opponent of Juda-
ism, Leeser attacked me most bitterly; accused me of
heresy, because, like Crescas and Albo, I rejected the
dogma of the personal Messiah, and because I ex-
plained the respective Biblical passages differently.
Upon reading this, I thought I must leap out of my
skin. I wrote a terrible letter to Leeser; but I threw
it into the fire. “No, no,” soliloquized I, “you may
62 Isaac M. WISE
not declare war as long as you are still making prepa-
rations.” I wrote him simply that I had not given
him permission to publish my lectures, and asked him
to return the manuscript, which he did.
All these events convinced me that I would not be
able to withhold myself long from public and decisive
combat; therefore, I made active preparations to pro-
vide myself with all the necessary material. I slept
little, read much, spoke only when I had to, and
wrote nothing, not even a sermon, although I
preached at every public service, which no other
preacher except Dr. Lilienthal did. Leeser had in-
troduced me to the American Jewish public. Every
reader knew where and how to find me. My opin-
ions had not been kept secret. I had many opponents
in my congregation, for reasons that I shall divulge
later. The Occident furnished these enemies with
ever fresh material, and a storm was brewing whereof
I had no inkling. Living in an ideal world, almost
completely removed from practical life, I not only
did not appreciate the power of my enemies; nay, I
did not even know them. The school, my studies, my
vocation, my family, my friends, these were my all in
all. Beyond these I desired nothing, looked for noth-
ing, and found nothing. Whatever lay outside of this
circle did not exist for me. Ambition, greed, plans
for the future, were strange to me. I prepared for
the public combat, which, as I believed, was not to be
avoided. I lived in happy ignorance of what was
before me.
In December, 1847, an occurrence took place
which gave me an opportunity of putting my English
REM.INISCENCES 63
studies to practical use. The conversionist craze of
American Orthodox Christianity is well known. It
was more acute here at that time than even in Eng-
land or Prussia. The English Society for the Con-
version of the Jews had its agents in all parts of this
country, and was supported by a number of American
organizations and by every Protestant clergyman.
Every pious member of the Church, man or woman,
was a missionary. The pursuit of souls, although un-
successful, was yet humiliating for the Jews and Juda-
ism. It was particularly distasteful to me, because
the plan of campaign of those pietists consisted chiefly
in arousing and fomenting a sentiment of pity for the
poor, persecuted, and blinded Jews. They had to
employ these tactics because the old weapons of hatred
and persecution of the Jews could not be employed
here, owing to the free government and the tolerant
spirit which was prevalent. The Jew was power-
less in the face of such procedure. In Europe, where
he was oppressed by inimical legislation, exposed to
popular hatred, and held down by press-laws, except-
ing in England, France, and Holland, he was unable
to oppose the conversionists with their own weapons.
He was compelled to appear continually in the guise
of modesty, humility, and frequently hypocrisy. In
America he lacked the power of expression; he was
unable to use the spoken or written word. Diaz,
Newman, and others entered the lists later, but
mostly in the same way as did the Portuguese Jews
against Voltaire. They started from outgrown stand-
points, so that of all that polemical literature, only
Diaz's letters, and the letters of an anonymous writer
64 Is AAC M. WISE
in England, have survived to this day. I have pre-
served also Newman’s Dialogues, although they, too,
have grown quite antiquated. I shall return to this
subject later. I will now relate a special incident.
There was in Albany a tall, thin, smoothly-shaven,
quite ignorant, very pious city missionary, whom we
four of the State Library drove into such narrow
straits occasionally, that he became a quite well-
behaved gentleman. He devoted his attention ex-
clusively to sailors, corner-loafers, ne'er-do-wells, and
rowdies, and let the remaining non-Christians, in-
cluding the Jews, roam about unconverted. A Ger-
man Methodist preacher, who had been a shoemaker,
took up the conversion business also, but without
success. His occupation was with feet; when it
came to heads, he was unable to accomplish anything.
He retired humbled from the field. A long-necked,
narrow-chested schoolmistress furnished us with
tracts and other pietistic writings, until she learned
to her sorrow that the Jews read no English, and
used the sacred tracts for wrapping-paper. She took
to the business of prophesying later; but did not be-
come as celebrated as Tennie C. Clafflin. Thus the
missionaries left us in peace. Dr. Kipp, the present
Bishop of San Francisco, declared in a sermon that
the Jews of Albany were not real Jews; that they
were Germans who called themselves Jews for busi-
ness purposes. He proved this assertion from the
fact of the impossibility of converting them to Chris-
tianity. Dr. Kipp was never guilty of being logical,
and became in truth a bishop of the Episcopalian
REM.INIscENCES 65
Church before he was quite thirty-five, although I
taught him Hebrew.
Thus far everything proceeded well in this field.
One day a prominent Christian woman asked me
with ill-concealed mockery, “Will you speak to-night
at the great meeting P’’
“At which meeting, madam?”
“In Dr. Wykoff’s church,” said she, smiling ma-
liciously; “here is the notice in the Argus.” She
showed me the invitation, printed in the newspaper
mentioned :
“The Rev. Rabbi Cohn, from Jerusalem, a mission-
ary of the London Society for the improvement of
the condition of the Jews, will speak this evening in
Dr. Wykoff’s church, with the purpose of forming
a branch organization for this holy and humane work.
The lower floor will be reserved exclusively for the
clergy, the Church officers, and their ladies. The
general public will be accommodated with seats in
the gallery.” This was the notice. I read it, and said
to the lady, “Yes, I shall speak.” “And I shall lis-
ten,” said she ; “and my husband also.” This man
was the future Senator Harris.
I went home, donned my frock coat, let my wife
put collar and white neckerchief on me to her great
surprise, and at seven o’clock promptly I stood at
the entrance of the church. The sexton wished to
prevent my entering the lower floor. “Are you a
Protestant clergyman?” he asked. “I am a clergy-
man, you know that full well, who protests against
you all; consequently I am a protestant clergyman,”
5
66 IsAAC M. WISE
I answered, and before he knew it I had entered the
lower floor. He was compelled to leave me undis-
turbed, or else to have me removed by the police.
He wisely chose the former alternative. I took a
seat near the pulpit, and when the two Unitarian and
the Universalist ministers entered, we came to the
undertSanding that they would second anything that
I would propose, and I, for my part, promised the
same. The pious men and women came in large
numbers. They eyed us askance. The church was
entirely filled. Dr. Wykoff, in company with other
prominent personages, entered at eight o'clock. A
little, dark, well-fed man, with small, black eyes and
a suspiciously large nose, walked in with them. The
proceedings opened with prayer and song. There-
upon some one arose and moved that the meeting
organize itself, with Dr. Wykoff as chairman. This
was carried. Wykoff now noticed me sitting oppo-
site the pulpit. He had to explain the object of the
meeting. He coughs and stammers, and somehow or
other he can not do it successfully, for he and I were
friends. At last, however, the words were out, and
the unfortunate Jew was spoken of pityingly in the
usual stock phrases. He finished and said, “Does any
one wish to speak on the subject?” The intention
was to introduce the missionary at this point, who
was to speak his piece; but I anticipated him. “I ask
for the floor, Mr. Chairman.” Wykoff made a wry
face; but he could not refuse me the floor. Nor did
I wait for his decision, but began to speak at once.
It was the first time that the voice of a Jew had been
heard on this question, and I could count with assur-
REM.INIscENCEs 67
ance on the undivided attention of the public. I sur-
rendered myself completely to my emotions. I ana-
lyzed the subject thoroughly from the moral stand-
point. I chastised the covetous affectation and the
hypocritical sympathy of piety with all the powers at
my command. I refused determinedly, in the name
of the Jews, all monetary support, because we our-
selves provide for our poor, our widows, and or-
phans, etc., and rear our children. There are no
rowdies, street-walkers, and gamblers among us. We
need no help, and accept none. I had determined to
treat the subject also from the theological stand-
point; but the repeated applause from the gallery
convinced me that this was not necessary. I con-
tented myself with stating that I was prepared to
prove that the Jew could be converted to Christianity
neither by gold nor cunning, neither by persecution
nor force, but that I considered it unnecessary to do
SO at any length at present. I then moved that the
meeting adjourn sine die. The Unitarian minister
arose with solemn mien, and seconded my motion.
The chairman could not do otherwise than put
the motion, “All those in favor of adjournment will
say aye.” A rousing aye thundered from the gal-
lery. “All those opposed will say no.” Outside of
a few women, no one had the courage to say no.
The men recognized how the public in the gallery
felt. Wykoff, happy to be released from his uncom-
fortable predicament, declared the meeting ad-
journed. The play was over, the audience went home,
their faces a yard long. No similar meeting ever
again took place in Albany, and whenever a mission-
68 Is AAC M. WISE
ary did come to town, Dr. Wykoff brought him to
me, that I might explain matters to him. Then he
sent him away in peace. My neighbor, Sanford, did
the same. He brought every Methodist missionary
to my house; but warned them all not to speak with
me about religion.
This Cohn remained in Albany a while, and later
on came again. He was harmless, and never at-
tempted to convert the Jews. Another missionary by
the name of Bloch appeared some time after this.
He, however, began too soon to speculate in watches
and to play cards with the Jews to give us any
trouble.
This occurrence aroused very little attention
among the Jews, because they gave but little thought
to the missionaries, and did not care to be brought
into public notice; but it aroused all the more public
attention among the Christians, and especially the
clergy. My Jewish opponents exploited the incident
to my disadvantage. “He makes Rishuth, he attacks
even the Goy, he can leave none in peace.” These
words were repeated from mouth to mouth. They
were not spoken to me, but to my friends, with the
object of teasing and grieving them. True, I heard
these things also ; but I imagined that these people
really did not understand the matter aright.
Among the many missionaries whom I have met,
the converted Jews were rascals without exception.
To my regret, many of these returned later to the
Jewish fold. The Christian missionaries themselves
I found occasionally companionable and well-mean-
ing. One evening Sanford brought to my house a
REMINISCENCEs 69
backwoodsman and his wife, and introduced them as
missionaries. Mrs. Sanford told me in Hebrew as
well as she could, that the strangers were very igno-
rant, and that I should treat them indulgently. The
guests folded their hands reverently, because they
thought the Hebrew words were a Biblical sentence
bidding them welcome. The good man said that the
real reason for his coming was to see me, because
he had never seen a Jew. True, Brother Sanford
had told him not to speak with me on religion; but
it was his duty to speak in the name of the Lord.
With that he let his conversion batteries loose. I
chanced to have Oken’s Manual of Natural Phi-
losophy lying on my table. I began to read to him
Oken's five paragraphs on sin as an introduction to
the discussion of the false theories of sin. I was
reading the passage, “The knowledge of nature is
the only means whereby to reach a true knowledge
of God and of reconciliation with him,” when the
good man interrupted me with the emphatic excla-
mation: “Heaven be praised ! I have never read any
book but the Bible !” I placed before him both
loooks, the Hebrew Bible and the Greek New Testa-
ment, with the words: “”T is well, here is the Bible.
Pray, show me what you may have to object to my
Judaism.” He confessed that he could read neither
the one nor the other, and I attempted to show him
how he had learned to know the Bible from the un-
reliable source of a translation, and that, therefore,
he must not discuss Biblical questions with me. The
Iman was embarrassed. Mrs. Sanford came to his
assistance with the remark that the guests had never
7o IsAAC M. WISE
seen a Jewess; would I not please call my wife? I
understood the hint, and acted upon it. Upon meet-
ing my wife, the woman arose, folded her hands, and
spoke a long prayer of thanksgiving for having lived
to see a daughter of Israel. The simple, trusting
piety of this woman moved me deeply, and gave me
an insight into the American conception of the Jews.
The guests knelt, prayed for us, asked God to con-
vert us, blessed us, and bade us a most cordial fare-
well. Mrs. Sanford told us the following morning
that her guests had spoken much of our graciousness
and culture. She described the incident in the mis-
sionary organ under the heading, “Charitable Op-
ponents,” omitting, however, all names. Young
Hazen reprinted the article in his temperance paper,
and added a very complimentary notice. My op-
ponents exploited this occurrence also to my hurt,
and declared that if at any time I would have to cease
preaching to the Jews, I would in all likelihood find
the Opportunity to do so to the Christians.
IV
[" became apparent enough before long that I had
warm, enthusiastic, and constant friends in Al-
bany, the like of whom but few men possessed. It
was, however, inevitable, and to be expected, that I
should have also bitter and irreconcilable opponents,
and later on spiteful and vindictive foes. Two-thirds
of all the Israelites of Albany and of America before
1848 were uneducated and uncultured. Their Juda-
ism consisted in a number of inherited customs and
observances. The less these were understood, the
holier were they considered. Every one made things
as easy and as convenient as possible in practice.
People did not observe the Sabbath. They ate t'refah
away from home, and did not lay i'fillin; but at home
and in the synagogue everything had to be conducted
in the most orthodox fashion; i. e., in the manner in
which every one had seen it in his early home. How-
ever, the people came from all lands. Every one had
his own minhagim, and every one wanted to have
these minhagim observed generally. Hence arose a
Babel-like confusion. Blows passed in a certain syna-
gogue in New York on kol nidre evening, because the
one party insisted that at the close of the service the
adon olam be sung first, and then the yigdal, while the
Other insisted on the opposite. Rudeness goes hand
in hand with ignorance. A fight at the congrega-
7I
72 Is AAC M. WISE
tional meeting, the escape of the parnass by a win-
dow in order to avoid threatened danger, lengthy and
unprofitable altercations in place of debates—such
things were not rare, not particularly in Albany, but
everywhere. Besides all this, there was also preva-
lent the notion of the m'shubed; the rabbi, preacher,
cantor, Sexton, servant, man of all work, coachman,
etc., were engaged and paid by the year or for six
months. It was self-understood that he had to be
servant and lickspittle, buffoon and menial, or else
he was chased away. Now, I came among these peo-
ple with a consciousness of independence and mas-
tery which never deserts me, and with ideas on re-
ligion and political and social conditions so radically
different from theirs, that struggle and ill-feeling were
bound to ensue. True, I might have acted more skill-
fully and discreetly; but being by nature fiery, ear-
rest, and fearless, I gave expression recklessly to
all my principles and views, for which the majority of
my hearers could, by no possible manner of means,
have been ripe and ready. In addition to this, I had
the peculiarity of pointing out vices, faults, and weak-
nesses so sharply and vividly, that in every sermon
some one felt that he had been attacked, and har-
loored ill-will towards me for a long while on that
account. Old conditions had to be overcome, and new
ones had to be created; antiquated abuses had to be
corrected; old, running wounds had to be cauterized ;
the cry of pain followed of necessity. Opponents and
foes were inevitable. I have never harbored resent-
ment towards them on this account. It was not
malice, but ignorance and misguided zeal for false
REM.INIscENCEs 73
conceptions, that actuated them; yet there was al-
ways a religious sentiment at the root of it all.
The following special particulars re-enforced the
general objections in the course of time. I com-
menced at the very start the fight for the observance
of the Sabbath. I insisted that one could not be a
Jew unless he kept the Ten Commandments. My
friends came to my assistance. Schloss, Blattner,
Cohn, Sporberg, Beckel, Schwarz, Oppenheimer,
Schmidt, and others closed their stores on the Sab-
bath-day. Many peddlers promised to rest on the
Sabbath, and did so, so that the Sabbath was ob-
served as strictly in the Bethel congregation in
Albany as in Wilna and Brody. I believed at that
time that I had re-established Judaism through the
school, the Sabbath, and the reforms which had been
inaugurated. My opponents, notably the members
of the other and very orthodox congregation, thought
otherwise. They teased my people, and called them
obedient priest-ridden servants; denounced me as a
bigoted zealot on the one hand, and as a hypocrite
on the other, so that even my zeal for the Sabbath
raised a number of opponents against me. A strange
state of affairs existed. The reformed Jews of Al-
bany observed the Sabbath and sent their children to
the religious school, while the orthodox mocked at
both these things. This made them very despicable
in my sight, and, because I did not keep silent about
it, my opponents became all the more bitter.
The German element of Albany had its seat in the
lodges and the saloons, because there were no other
social gathcring-places. Everything was decided
74 Is AAC M. WISE
upon there. I consented to become an Odd Fellow
as early as 1847, although the feature of secrecy was
repugnant to me. I even organized a new lodge
(Mt. Carmel) upon request, and went through all the
offices; but I did not enter saloon politics. I could
not drink the unwholesome three-cent beer; I could
not endure the card-playing and the spitting; I could
not stand being treated by every loafer; and I could
not listen to the pointless conversation. I remained
at home, drank water, and still more coffee; conse-
quently all the saloon-keepers were my enemies, and
they were the political ring-leaders. Dr. Bodenstab,
the only German physician in Albany at the time,
called my attention to the matter; but I could not
conquer my repugnance. Further, there arose the
unfortunate occurrence that several poor women
complained of their husbands to me, because these
sat in the saloons and played cards, instead of pro-
viding for their families. I sent for some of these
worthies, remonstrated with them in the kindliest
manner; but to no avail. They answered me shame-
lessly, and one of them told me quite plainly to mind
my own business; that he was no priest-ridden slave.
As a result, I denounced drinking, card-playing, the
saloon life, and idleness which was neglectful of duty,
from the pulpit with all my might. I did this, not
moderately and tactfully, but unsparingly. I chas-
tised without reserve. I was irritated, and regardless
of consequences. As a result, the orthodox element
received recruits, and the number of my opponents
increased. Another class of opponents arose in the
course of time. It is well-known that American
REM.INIscENCES 75
methods require a great number of judicial oaths
which are spoken carelessly. I was compelled to
hear frequently the disagreeable statement, an Amer-
ican oath amounts to nothing; something which no
one understands is mumbled, amen is said, and the
book is kissed. There were people who were always
involved in some lawsuit or other, and, as was
claimed, there was a standing army of witnesses who
knew everything and swore to anything. This
aroused public attention. These people were feared
and avoided.
One day a suit was being tried in court, and sev-
eral Jewish witnesses were examined. The oppos-
ing counsel had the four most prominent Jewish mer-
chants summoned—I believe they were Schloss,
Blattner, Cohn, and Sporberg—administered the oath
to them, and then asked each one, “Do you believe
what these people (the witnesses who had testified
before) declare under oath P’’ The four men an-
swered in the negative. This invalidated the testi-
mony. The other lawyer, who saw that his side was
losing the case, declared in his speech that the court
had no reason to believe any Jew under oath, and
added that he himself believed no Jew under oath.
Fifteen minutes later the clerk of the court related
the whole proceeding to me in my house. The blood
froze in my veins. “You are pale,” said the actuary.
“I am not well; I have not slept well,” said I. I re-
mained quiet until he had gone; then, however, I
wept a very flood of tears for anger, and I had not
cried for years. My wife heard me sobbing in un-
controllable rage, and came to my side hurriedly.
76 Isa Ac M. WISE
“I am really sick; I have read too much,” said I, to
quiet her. “I must go out into the fresh air and walk
several hours.” With these words I darted from the
house like one possessed. After walking an hour I
grew calmer, and returned to the city. I went to the
office of the Argus, had the lawyer in question sum-
moned, and—but no I will not write down what I
said to this fellow. Grosswell, the editor, later Min-
ister to Russia, interfered, or else the result might
have been quite serious. He urged a settlement of
our differences, and succeeded in reconciling us. The
next morning the lawyer announced in all the papers
that he had made a false accusation against the char-
acter of the Jews in the heat of argument, that he
regretted and retracted the same, etc. The poor
lawyer was called to account late at night also by
Jacob Cohn, who knew nothing of my encounter,
and the next day he was so bitterly arraigned by
Amos Dean, Rufus Peckham, and the district attor-
ney, that he went to Judge Parker and begged his
pardon for having demeaned himself in so unseemly
a manner the day before.
On the following Sabbath the very men who had
been accused of perjury sat close before me in the
synagogue; the Ten Commandments were read
from the Torah. It seemed to me that these people
jeered at me as I stepped into the pulpit. I spoke
On oaths and perjury, but as quietly and calmly as
possible under the circumstances. It seemed to me,
however, that these men were still mocking me, and
winking at one another. I grew more and more ex-
cited, until I was finally so carried away that I opened
REM.INIscENCES 77
the ark, took out the Torah, and said: “I swear by
this Torah that the perjurers who disgrace the name
of Israel will not live their full quota of years.” The
joke was now at an end. The congregation sat in
their places deathly pale, not a breath was audible.
I placed the Torah in the ark, and fell back fainting
into my chair. Two men led me home from the syna-
gogue.
The tempest that followed this storm can be well
imagined. A printed lampoon consisting of foolish
rhymes appeared against me; my adherents wrote
and circulated a counter-lampoon. Very little could
be said against me, for I avoided the ridiculous as
carefully as the bad. These people had been ex-
posed. Fear and dread of them had been removed;
SO that the lawsuits and the oaths were no more;
their occupation was gone; but the number of my
Opponents was augmented by these embittered ene-
mies. I was maligned and mortified all the more.
I bore it all patiently. I did not imagine that it could
be any better elsewhere, nor did I neglect my official
duties and my studies even for one moment. I pre-
pared myself for the decisive contest, and thought it
better to put up with these annoyances than to en-
gage in a public contest and fail. I wanted to wait.
All in all, my situation was not so bad. I lived hap-
pily in my home, had splendid friends in Jewish and
non-Jewish circles, stood well with the American
aristocracy, had two large libraries at my disposal,
required very little, and had very much. I was able
to help the poor, and was idolized by my pupils.
Even the children of those who hated and persecuted
78 Is AAC M. WISE
me were greatly attached to me. No man can be
more than satisfied; and I was so after every storm,
although my wife often laughed at me on account
of my astonishing show of optimism, and my con-
tentment, which was greater than that of Diogenes,
for I was indifferent even to the light of the sun.
One morning late in the autumn of the year 1847,
a lean, pock-marked, clean-shaven little man, clad
in black, stepped into my study. The sparkling eye
and the black hair betrayed the Jew, the rapid enun-
ciation designated the foreigner, and the readiness
and unrestraint denoted the man of intellect.
“Whose acquaintance have I the honor of
forming?”
“My name is Isaac Leeser.”
“I am happy to make your personal acquaintance.”
Explanations followed, and in one-half hour we
understood each other thoroughly, for there was
nothing to conceal on either side. Leeser seemed to
me a man worthy of respect, because he had espoused
the cause of Judaism earnestly and zealously at a time
when it had no representative on the press. He
appeared to me honest and well-meaning in his Ortho-
doxy. He had conceived Judaism from this stand-
point, and had not advanced beyond it. A man who
strives for ideals is always superior to him who works
only for material sustenance, honor, and wealth.
These idealists are the true nobility of the human
race, however morbid they may be at times. They
recognize, they long for something higher, for some-
thing foreign to the animal nature. I treated Leeser
very respectfully. He seemed to appreciate being
REM.INIsCENCES 79
treated thus by an opponent. He informed me of his
sufferings and his struggles, and in a few hours we
were very friendly. He came with the intention of
spending several days in Albany; but the weather was
so inclement that he was able to spend only two days
with me, since he had recovered but recently from a
severe illness. It was only on the second day of his
stay that he told me the real reason of his coming to
Albany, to-wit:
In order to understand what follows, I must pre-
mise that the German Jews of America read little or
no English at that time. The Occident was published
for native-born, English, some Polish, and Dutch
Jews. The latter were Talmudically orthodox; the
native Jews were, if I may say so, tinged with Chris-
tian thought. They read only Christian religious
literature, because there was no Jewish literature of
this kind. They substituted God for Jesus, unity for
trinity, the future Messiah for the Messiah who had
already appeared, etc. There were Episcopalian Jews
in New York, Quaker Jews in Philadelphia, Hugue-
not Jews in Charleston, and so on, everywhere ac-
cording to the prevailing sect. Cabalistic mysti-
cism underlay everything, as Mr. Boas, the Judaized
consul of the United States in Palestine found later.
It was but a step from Judaism to Christianity, and
vice versa. A young clergyman, M. R. Miller, who is
still living and still writes, had acquired a not incon-
siderable knowledge of Jewish literature. He was
not less anxious to convert the Jews, than were his
fellow-clergymen, although he associated much, and
was on a friendly footing with them. This man
8o ISAAC M. WISE
Miller published a number of articles in the Occident
signed Talmid, in which he showed that the orthodox
standpoint in Judaism was the correct one. He mys-
tified Leeser and his readers completely, inasmuch
as he claimed that the foundation of Judaism lay in
Christian mysticism. A storm arose against Leeser,
and the good man was helpless owing to his igno-
rance of Jewish literature. He had appealed to a
number of friends in New York, but no one offered
to help him out of the tight place. Therefore he had
to come to me, as he confessed openly. I had read
the articles in question, had understood the hidden
motive, and I promised to write rejoinders.
We parted in the best of humor. I began, ere-
long, to write the article, “Reason and Faith,” which
appeared in several successive numbers of the Occi-
dent. I did not call my opponent by name; but I
refuted his standpoint and the conclusions based
thereon. The rationalistic Maimonidean standpoint,
which I expounded at length, served as the basis of
my arguments. I quoted from the Zohar and other
cabalistical works, in order to fight mysticism with
its own weapons. I succeeded in even convincing
Leeser that my rationalism, and not Miller's mysti-
cism, was the Judaism of Jewish literature. The arti-
cles attracted attention. Leeser called me a true fol-
lower of the Maimonidean philosophy, gave me a
number of high-sounding titles, dubbed me D. D.,
but not Reverend, for I was no chagan, and the
chaean alone was the real Reverend. I have never
cared much what people call me, whether they praise
or condemn me. I learned early to be my own judge.
REM.INIscENCEs 8 I
When I read my articles in cold type, I found them
very poor. The thought did not seem to me com-
pact enough, and very often obscure; the logic ap-
peared faulty, and the style insipid. I regretted ex-
ceedingly that I had appeared in public print. Much
as I was gratified in having obtained a hearing for
the rational standpoint, I was none the less mortified
by my scribbling.
About the same time I had another experience
that dampened my ardor effectually. I was quite
taken with the Herbartian psychology, and wrote a
number of articles setting forth, as I thought, the
chief principles of that psychological system. ‘ I was
pleased with my work, and wished to have it printed.
But Amos Dean was to read it beforehand. He read
it, and was so polite as to advise me to let the manu-
script lie for a while, and then examine it critically.
I understood the hint, relinquished the thought of
publication, and again applied myself to reading.
The months of February and March, 1848, agi-
tated me to such a degree, that it was long before
I returned to a state of normal calm. I became rest-
less and discontented as I had never been before.
One Sabbath afternoon I sat in the synagogue in the
midst of my chosen friends, and delivered them a pri-
vate address, as I often did. Moses Schloss entered
the synagogue, and whispered in my ear, “Paris is in
a state of revolution; Louis Philippe has abdicated.”
I jumped up electrified, repeated the portentous
words, rushed out of the house towards the post-
office, where the bulletins were usually posted, and
found the report confirmed. A steamer from Eng-
6
82 ISAAC M. WISE
land had brought the news of Louis Philippe's abdi-
cation. I ran from one newspaper office to another,
but none had received any particulars. We had to
wait fourteen days for further news. At that time
only two European steamers arrived monthly during
the winter season. Those days were as years of tor-
ment and uncertainty for me. I expected the procla-
mation of the European Republic, and made prepara-
tions to go to Europe at once. Upon the arrival of
one important news item after the other, the estab-
lishment of the French Republic, the revolution in
Vienna, Berlin, Hungary, Italy, etc., I felt patriotic
for the first time. Back to the old home ! This word
sounded within me mightily. I informed the parnass,
Gottlieb Smith (Schloss had retired), of my intention
to resign, without giving him the real reason. I had
to be explicit with my wife. When she learned of
my purpose, she protested so energetically against
it, begged me so earnestly to renounce it, and finally
declared so decidedly that she would not return to
Europe with her two little children, that I wavered,
and felt truly unhappy. Nevertheless I handed in
my resignation to the congregation, and I could not
relinquish the thought of taking part in the re-birth
of Europe.
Towards the end of March a great celebration
took place in Albany. Speakers’ stands were erected
round about the capitol, bonfires blazed, thousands
of torches were lit, the people acted as though pos-
sessed, speeches were made in English, German,
Polish, Hungarian, Slavic, French, Italian. The re-
joicing was unbounded. The universal Republic and
REM.INIscENCES 83
the Brotherhood of Man were proclaimed, and the
world was declared redeemed and rejuvenated forth-
with. Being one of the speakers, and desiring to say
something sensible, I consulted beforehand with some
noted politicians. I met in the office of the evening
paper, William H. Seward, from whom I desired some
information. Wonderful to say, he prophesied coldly
and calmly the exact course and outcome of the revo-
lution. “The peoples are not ready for freedom,” said
he, “and the revolution will end in the supremacy of
the army.” Several weeks later he made a similar
statement in the Senate in regard to France. I was
vexed at the frigid American ; but his words cooled
my ardor considerably. But when I heard a Hun-
garian abuse the Germans, and a German curse
the Jews at the great celebration, I arrived at the
conclusion that the peoples were not ready for free-
dom, and came home in a less ardent mood. When
I heard that Heinzen and Dowiat, who had edited the
Express to death, had returned to Europe, I went to
New York, and consulted with Horace Greeley. He
was of the same opinion as Seward, and advised me
to remain quietly in this country. I began to strug-
gle against my enthusiasm; but I could not succeed
in overcoming it.
I had been at home an imperial-royal Bohemian
Schutzjude on the estate of a decayed nobleman. My
father was not permitted to call even a handbreadth
of land his own; therefore, I had never had a father-
land. The barbarians, however, could not forbid my
mother from conversing with me in the language
of the country. Therefore, I had a mother tongue;
84 ISAAC M. WISE
viz., German. It and German learning attached me
to Germany. Barefooted boys, ragamuffins, and
stupid cits had shouted hep ! hep ! at me so long, that
I had grown accustomed to pity the whole lot, who,
it is true, had succeeded in driving from my heart
every trace of sympathy for the country, but not the
inborn love for humanity. I recognized in the Revo-
lution of 1848 the struggle of humanity against the
stupid and stupefying element, and therefore my sym-
pathies were so strongly excited. I wished to par-
ticipate in the war of emancipation. Conditions com-
pelled me to submit, and remain in this country. I
would most probably have been lost in the contests
of 1848 and 1849, for I lacked tact and moderation;
but I could not comprehend this at the time, and I
passed through a severe struggle.
At the same time that I entertained these patri-
otic and revolutionary ideas, and constructed air-
castles for liberated humanity, I was exchanging let-
ters with Isaac Leeser relative to a plan for the unifi-
cation and elevation of American Jewry. The desire
to improve the world is a sickness that causes many
pains, sleepless nights, struggle, wounds, and disap-
pointments. He who fights for all, receives the
thanks of none. All mock him when he retires cov-
ered with wounds. If he is successful, many envy,
suspect, and abuse him; but no one shares the suffer-
ings which he experiences in the struggle, whether
defeated or victorious. He must fight alone and
solitary before his purpose is realized. Happy they
who work at ease and in comfort in a narrow sphere,
REM.INIscENCES 85
who do no more than they must, smoke their cigars
leisurely, drink their coffee, read a book, permit
themselves to be admired from time to time, and look
upon the whole world as a foreign province. These
are the pets of fortune; they have an excellent di-
gestion, and reach a good old age in health and
strength. The desire to reform the world is a sick-
ness which some people can not avoid; it is part and
parcel of their spiritual make-up, and they must.
They are the poorly-paid servants of Providence,
the pikes in the fishpond of humanity, that any and
every wretch may make the object of pursuit; but
they must, because otherwise mankind would become
stupid, stagnate, and decay.
There were at that time six Jewish schools in
America; viz., in New York, Baltimore, Cincinnati,
and Albany. The school system in general was in
a deplorable condition. Religious instruction was
imparted one hour in the week by ladies. Leeser fur-
nished the text-books, all ultra-Orthodox. There
were no Jewish charities, with the exception of sev-
eral decaying chebroth and two societies in New York.
There was no provision for widows and orphans, no
hospital. In brief, the American Jews had not one
public institution, except their synagogues. In lieu
thereof, the missionaries lay in ambush everywhere,
in order to bait some poor Jew. It was perfectly evi-
dent to me that Judaism would have no future in
America, unless mighty upheavals, accompanied by
constructive action, would arouse the better element
into action, awaken and attract the thoughtless and
86 Isa AC M. WISE
indifferent, so that it would become reconciled with
the spirit of the age and the opinions prevalent in
the new fatherland.
Leeser and I had agreed that a gathering of the
representatives of the congregations would be a
strong impetus. No matter what they might do at
the first meeting, it could not but be a clear gain for
Judaism. They would do something; the meeting
would not result in nothing, and the impulse would
continue to work. It was therefore resolved that
Leeser should advocate the project personally in
Philadelphia and in the West and South, and that I
should make propaganda for it in the East, particu-
larly in New York. I went to New York to consult
with Lilienthal and Merzbacher. Lilienthal favored
the plan. Merzbacher opposed it on account of the
unpreparedness of the orthodox congregations for
such a movement. I met some Cincinnatians at
Lilienthal’s, who were enthusiastic about the project,
and stated that the congregation in Cincinnati would
indorse it without a doubt. I knew that the same was
the case with the Albany congregation.
Lilienthal was so cordial as to offer me his pulpit,
and I preached for the first time in New York on the
following Sabbath. As many people as could find
sitting- or standing-room crowded in ; the remainder
stood in the vestibule, in front of the open windows
and doors; yes, even on the opposite side of the
street. I stepped to the pulpit wonderingly and rev-
erently. Large masses always awaken in me the idea
of the sublime, and fill me with reverence. Taking
my text from the opening words of the Sidrah (Tetza-
REMINISCENCEs 87
weh), I preached on the necessity of reform and the
efficacy of united action. I do not recall what I said,
nor how I said it. At the request of Leeser, who
was present, I wrote down in the evening as much of
the sermon as I could remember. He translated it
into English, and published it in the following num-
ber of the Occident, with accompanying apologies for
my reform ideas. Yet I can still recall that my words
roused the people mightily. The boards of the three
German congregations promised me at the close of
the service to lay the matter before their congrega-
tions, and to indorse it. The reform lightning, as
this sermon was generally termed, had struck several
important points, and all efforts to quench the fire
were fruitless.
I returned to Albany sure of victory. Several days
later, Mr. Schwab, now of Youngstown, but then
parnass of the Louisville congregation, visited me.
“You are the man for the young and energetic West,”
said he. “We have built a new synagogue in Louis-
ville that is to be dedicated before Pesach. I invite
you to deliver the oration, and I assure you that the
congregation will elect you at a good salary.” I was
not disinclined to accept the invitation, although I
gave no positive promise. I learned, upon careful
inquiry, that the trip from Buffalo to Sandusky would
have to be made in a wagon, because navigation on
the lake was impossible on account of the ice. This
would have necessitated a long and tedious journey.
Therefore I relinquished the idea of going to Louis-
ville.
In the meantime they had heard in Albany of my
88 Is AAC M. WISE
New York début and of Schwab's offer. The presid-
ing officers, Gottlieb Smith and H. Blattner, as well
as all the members of the Board, were my intimate
friends, and did not wish to accept my resignation.
They concluded that something decisive must be done
quickly, or else I would go to Louisville, or perhaps
to New York, for thus it was rumored. They called
a congregational meeting at an unusual time, for then
meetings were held only during the Pesach or Sukkoth
week. It was unanimously resolved to elect me for
three years at the then considerable salary of six or
eight hundred dollars per annum. After the resolu-
tion was adopted, a committee consisting of my best
friends came to me, and submitted the proposition.
My wife did not wish to leave Albany; nor did I, for
it was our home. I therefore accepted the propo-
sition, went with the committee to the meeting, and
was greeted enthusiastically. All my opponents
seemed to have become friends, and I believed that a
lasting peace had been concluded.
The next evening a banquet took place, at which
Moses Schloss made that memorable classical speech
at a late hour, it is true, when the bottles were quite
empty. “Our Wise,” he said, pathetically. Then he
curved his arm as much as he could, and, pointing
to the curved arm, he continued: “If he says this is
straight, it is straight. If there is any one who does
not like it, let him help himself.” This expressed the
true state of affairs. My friends considered every-
thing right that I said or did, no matter how queer
it may have been. Everything seemed to be moving
along smoothly. But at Pesach, when the peddlers
REM.INIscENCES 89
were all at home, the trouble began. My opponents
were again active. “You had no right,” they de-
clared, “to elect a man for three years at so large a
salary without our knowledge and consent.” I had
intended to take a trip to New York with my wife on
chol hammoed. We were prepared to start on the
first day towards evening. The conveyance that was
to take us to the steamer stood in front of the door.
The trunk had been already placed in it, when a man
rushed breathlessly into the room, and with difficulty
uttered the words, “Blows at the congregational
meeting.” “Wait a moment,” I called to my wife,
who was in the next room; “we have time, and I
must go and see what is the matter.” I then placed
a paper in my pocket, and went hurriedly to the place
of meeting. When I opened the door the fight had
not yet commenced; but the fighters stood ready to
begin, and messengers had been sent to call the
police. Upon my entrance a pause ensued, which I
took advantage of. “Mr. President, may I ask what
is the cause of this excitment?” “Certainly. The
cause is the contract which the congregation has
made with you.” “A contract is, as is well known,
a piece of paper,” I continued, as I took it out of my
pocket. “Here is the piece of paper. If I destroy
it, the cause of the disturbance exists no longer.”
I tore up the contract, threw the pieces into the fire,
and in a jiffy I was outside, hurried home, placed my
wife in the wagon, reached the dock just in time, and
proceeded towards New York. As I learned later,
there was such an uproar in the meeting that the
president was compelled to adjourn it. Telegrams
90 IsAAC M. WISE
and letters were sent to me to New York. “Friends
should not be left in the lurch in this wise;” “the
tearing of the paper on which it was written does not
invalidate a contract;” “you serve your enemies, not
your friends;” “no honest workman deserts his post
in the midst of uncompleted work.” Such and similar
reproaches, exhortations, and advices followed each
Other in quick succession, although I had related the
occurrence to no one, not even to my wife, and it
had never occurred to me to leave Albany in such an
unceremonious manner.
I met with great discouragement in New York.
All the enthusiasm which had been enkindled for the
progress in, and the union of, the congregations was
directed by skilled manoeuvering into a marsh, where
it threatened to become extinguished and disappear
forever. A Society of the Friends of Light, in whose
halls Mrs. Kaiser delivered her powerful addresses
somewhat later, was organized by an influential ele-
ment, rich in words, but poor in energy. Here
thought gave way to phrases, and action to senseless
debate. Enthusiasm was diverted to and all atten-
tion turned towards this society, instead of being
given to the movement for congregational union.
Some people had pushed themselves forward in
the society who wished to be seen and heard, but
who would rather have done away with Judaism alto-
gether than assist in its development. I saw the
grave of the newly-born plan, and stood at the bier
silent, mourning, and bowed down. I went to the
Boards of the congregations who had promised so
much, but everything had been forgotten. “As for
REM.INI scences 91
New York,” said one, “progress will have to emanate
from the Society of the Friends of Light. No other
movement is advisable for the present.” Another
one said that if any one listened to the plans and pur-
poses of the apostles of reform, as set forth in the
Society of the Friends of Light, he would become
very orthodox, and would strive earnestly to oppose
every reform movement. A third one said: “If the
bridges are burnt behind us, and nothing can be
effected with the Judaism of the past, as has been
claimed in the Society of the Friends of Light, then
let us attempt nothing, and leave everything as it has
been.” There was but one who encouraged me. He
said openly and freely: “I have made the attempt to
bring you to New York, and I am convinced that if
you will preach here several times, they will not per-
mit you to leave New York, although our parnass
says that he can not endure the individual from Al-
bany with the flowing hair.” I now understood the
situation, and retired.
Leeser had written me that they were waiting in
Philadelphia until the congregations of New York
would choose delegates; for the plan could not be
carried out without the co-operation of New York.
I wrote him plainly that the New York congregations
had relinquished the plan, and that there was nothing
more to be done in the matter. The first movement
for union in American Judaism ended thus. I
prowled about New York several days, gloomy, in-
dignant, and depressed. I vouchsafed no answer to
all the telegrams and letters that came from Albany.
I was stupefied by the uncxpected turn of affairs.
92 Isa AC M. WISE
The evening before my departure, Dr. Lilienthal
asked me what I intended to do now. “I am going
back to Albany,” I answered, “and as truly as I am
the son of a Jewish mother, I shall divide this Amer-
ican Judaism into two inimical camps, and they shall
overcome the abominable indifference, repair the
damages, and achieve the triumph of a new life by
fight and struggle.”
We optimistic idealists have a remarkable power
of consoling ourselves if we stumble over rocks and
do not break our necks, or if we are stoned by a
crowd of mischievous boys and do not lose an eye.
If we have worked, suffered, struggled for an idea,
and finally failed, we console ourselves with the re-
flection that ideas never die; they are seeds which
seemingly rot in the earth; but the spring sunshine
lures the shoots out of the cold ground. All this is
very true; but it is cold comfort for the struggling
soul. The child wants its apple when it has finished
its lesson, the workman wants his wage, the fighter
longs for victory. Still, ideas never die; and since
the spring of 1848 the idea of reform, the idea of
union, the thoughts given expression on the care
of the poor, the widow, the orphan, on hospitals, etc.,
have never disappeared. They have been taken up,
one by one; the seeds have sprouted gradually. Even
the first struggle was not without immediate results,
for persons of importance had been won for the cause
of progress; but this was not evident enough im-
mediately. I considered myself completely worsted.
At that time I was not yet a hardened fighter; I was
still very sensitive.
REM.INIscences 93
My wife learned nothing of all this, not only be-
cause I am non-communicative by nature and hide
every grief deep within me, but also because I did
not wish to poison her joyous disposition. Even
later I never drew my wife into my struggles and
sufferings, although I always had the fullest confi-
dence in her intelligence and sympathy. Selfishness
had something to do with this, as I did not wish
to be disturbed in my home life. I succeeded in
carrying out my desire. Serene peace ruled in my
home. No matter what took place outside, not a
word was said about it at home. I returned to Al-
bany with my wife on the last day of chol hammoed.
She had spent most agreeable days in New York,
had made handsome purchases, and was thoroughly
happy. She chatted all day long about the city and
the people, the superb views along the Hudson, the
beautiful villas, towns, etc. All this pleased and
cheered me greatly.
I had scarcely reached home before I was sur-
rounded by my friends. “Will you not preach to-
morrow?” every one asked; and when I answered
affirmatively, it required no newspaper notice to
spread the fact far and wide. In the morning the
synagogue was crowded. Many had come to hear
the thunder that I was expected to give vent to be-
cause of the stormy congregational meeting; but
they were doomed to disappointment. I preached as
well as I could, both on the seventh and eighth days
of the feast of Passover, without touching those oc-
currences, and attended to my duties as usual. Cohn
and Moses whimpered as usual; Bernhard Smith slept
94 IsAAC M. WISE
softly as always; Rosenbaum was enchanted; Mayer
Isaac and Wolf Simon cracked their jokes after the
service; Tschesky had never heard such a sermon in
Poland; Kastanienbaum had experienced the like at
the time he was living in service; the women were
moved to tears, a fact that Marianne Smith imparted
to me dutifully immediately after dinner; the choir
sang beautiful selections; everything proceeded as
usual; everything was as it had been. In the after-
noon my first adjutant, the tailor Rosenbaum, who
looked upon me as the greatest man living, came to
me and wanted to know why I had not given those
people a good rating. “Because I would necessarily
have to be partisan, or at least appear so in this
affair,” I answered, “and therefore I must keep
silent; besides, I never air personal affairs and griev-
ances in the pulpit.” Rosenbaum laughed, and ques-
tioned further, “Who, then, is in the pulpit when you
preach P” “Not I, the individual,” I answered; “but
the chosen teacher of the congregation.” Rosen-
baum was satisfied. If I had said just the opposite,
he would have been satisfied also. The presiding
officers came on the second afternoon. “The ad-
journed meeting of the congregation will take place
to-night,” said Blattner, in the name of the whole
Board; “the president will declare every motion hav-
ing reference to your contract out of order, and will
call for the regular order, since the contract is not
void nor invalidated, as our counsel assures us. The
opponents have bethought themselves, and will be
perfectly satisfied.”
“The contract is void as far as I am concerned,”
REM.INIscENCES 95
I replied. “I release the congregation from all obli-
gations. I will accept any contract that the majority
resolves upon, in order not to wound the feelings of
my friends; but a vote must be taken. I reserve the
right not to sign any contract, and to resign at any
time that matters are made too unpleasant for me.”
A debate of two hours did not succeed in moving me
from the stand I had taken. The whole proceeding
was reported at the general meeting that took place
that evening. But who can fathom the human heart?
At eight o'clock in the evening a committee com-
posed of my most violent opponents appeared, and
notified me that I had been elected unanimously for
three years at a salary of eight hundred dollars, and
requested me, in the name of all the members, to go
with them to the meeting, and declare that I felt fully
reconciled. Each one extended his hand to me, and
begged me to forget the past, and to live in peace
and friendship with them in the future. I was sur-
prised and deeply moved. I followed them to the
meeting-place, and after I had spoken a few words
of peace and reconciliation, joy reigned unconfined;
my opponents crowded up to me, shook me by the
hand, and were most cordial and amiable; my friends
were overjoyed; Gottlieb Smith and the remaining
members of the Board celebrated a triumph; there
was feasting, drinking, and speech-making galore.
It seemed as though perpetual peace had come.
The next morning I went to my school as usual.
The children had heard for several days that I would
in all likelihood leave the city. They had learned the
contrary the evening before. When I entered the
96 IsAAC M. WISE
schoolhouse all the little folk streamed out of all the
rooms toward me and kissed me, kissed my hands
and my coat. They hovered about me like a swarm
of bees, shouted, rejoiced, laughed, cried, clapped
their hands, and danced. It took a half-hour before
I could quiet young America. Then the teachers
came and congratulated me, and everything moved
along as before.
V
HE portions of my diary written during the sum-
mer of 1848 have a tinge of melancholy. I had a
presentiment of approaching death. I knew that my
lung was affected. Two years of uninterrupted ex-
ertion without recreation and sufficient sleep had
quite consumed my vitality, and the exciting events
of the past two months had produced in me a nervous
irritability, which I could overcome only with diffi-
culty. Friendly physicians called my attention to my
pallid countenance, the blue rings under my eyes,
and my listless and tottering, gait. They prescribed
various remedies; but I négºetſ tº ºthèm::I
was haunted by a presentiréât ºf death, and this o
made me disregard alkºnedigaments”. 'Éhis £ºtitiºn: %.
set a limit to my planšto:ińyśbe &oiſt; r. saw: * *
everything through a glass darkly, and was sadly
depressed.
Two highly-educated chaganim were carrying on a
controversy in the Occident on the permissibility of
the rite of confirmation in Judaism. One went so far
as to reproach his opponent who favored confirma-
tion, by saying that his Judaism did not amount to
very much since he always used the Christian date
even in congregational documents. Since I had my
school boys and girls ready for confirmation, I in-
troduced this rite on Shabuoth, and had it reported
7 97
98 IsAAC M. WISE
© Q @
in the local press. This brought a wasp’s nest about
my ears. The innovation met with great favor in
Albany. A certain Katzenellenbogen, an itinerant
rabbi, was in Albany at the time. After he had ob-
tained the money that he had come to Albany for,
he returned to New York, and stirred up the whole
crowd against me. This called forth a number of
strong articles against me from the pen of the cele-
brated Rabbi Abraham Reiss, of Baltimore. I did
not answer him, thanks be to God! I began to call
myself to account, and to consider it impertinent to
be thus opposing everybody. I contended with my
longings for reform, and said to myself quite plainly,
“You are neither able nor justified to undertake the
task of instructing the whole American Jewry,” and I
wrote above my study-table the motto:
...wn, lºw; ºnlyman ‘º
f saitºtô; raşşeāāśiñer, “It is easy to disturb
peºple: ia: their religious convictions. To inculcate
; : Sørtetliſt::better to také:the glace thereof is a task
to which I am unequal.” I flagged. I was truly sick.
My friends, whom I met daily at the library, began
to remonstrate with me also. “You must give up
reading such heavy books,” said Chief-Justice Wood,
or else you will be a dead man in two years. Others
said the same thing to me in different words. “If I
fritter away my time in idleness, I will certainly be a
dead man in two years,” said I to Wood. “O ! read
nonsensical stuff,” said he ; “e. g., Streeter's poems,
Warburton’s ‘Mission of Moses;’ read Methodist ser-
* The serpent will bite him who breaks down a wall.
REM.INISCENCES 99
mons, Christian catechisms, the confessions of con-
verted Jews. There is plenty of nonsense in the
world.” “These things do not interest me,” I an-
Swered. Then Streeter pounced upon Wood, and
matters grew interesting. Wood scintillated, Streeter
hissed, and the public, consisting of Theophilus Wood
and myself, was highly entertained. Finally a bizarre
notion struck the Chief-Justice. “Over there you
will find two hundred volumes on Asiatic and African
mythology. Try them. I wish you a good digestion.
You will be able to read them without damage, just
as little children can eat pap without hurting their
teeth or stomach. You will find in those volumes all
the preposterous absurdities which have passed for
religion everywhere and at all times. You will be-
come familiar with the gods of Streeter's poetry, and
will learn in what workshop his Christianity was
man”factured. I assure you, mythology is a splendid
digestive. You will be edified without needing to
think even as is the case with a bishop. You will
laugh heartily, and finally comprehend how stupid
mankind has been from the very beginning of time.”
Every word of the sarcastic pessimist wounded
me, and yet, I know not why, I took the keys of that
case, and began to read mythology. True, I had
formed a notion of this branch of learning from the
works of Herder, Schelling, and Kreuzer. I soon
discovered, however, how insignificant was my ac-
quaintance with this literature. I found here the
works of French and English investigators of three
centuries on Eastern and Southern Asia and Africa,
men of whom I had never heard. I began to read
- *-- ~~ - - - - , - ' ' ' 1 , $
gºt A : * Q Q')\Q
º: *_ -
~ *
- -1 -ºº:
* ºr
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/*
Y
I OO Is AAC M. WISE
mythology, and, let no one laugh, it took three years
before I could tear myself away from it, and then
only perforce. Later, when the researches of Rénan
and Müller caused so great a sensation, it seemed
almost ridiculous to me, for I found nothing new in
their books beyond their exceedingly unsound philo-
logical combinations; but I discovered, on the other
hand, that there was much which was old, that they
had taken no account of. The English officials in
Eastern and Southern Asia have made wonderful
contributions to this branch of learned investigation.
True, I read mythology to restore my health; but
I did not succeed. In the early summer of I848 many
immigrants came to these shores from France and
Germany, and among them was Dr. Joseph Lewi,
from Bohemia. As soon as I heard of this, I com-
missioned a friend to bid the doctor come to me at
once to Albany. He brought me the comical an-
swer that Dr. Lewi was of the opinion that he would
be a burden to me for some time, and that since all
friendship ceases in America, each one had to look
out for himself. Thereupon I wrote the following
brief epistle, “Dr. Lewi, if you do not come to me
at once to Albany, never call me friend again.” Dr.
Lewi made his appearance two days later at 77 Ferry
Street, and I was heartily glad to have a house friend.
We agreed very well with one another, and have re-
mained friends. “For heaven's sake, how dreadful
you look l’” said the newly-arrived friend. I felt again
the presentiment of death, that had for a time been
forgotten. The physician prescribed for me several
days after. “You can not continue to live as you
REM.INIscENCES I O I
are doing,” said he. “You must eat raw meat for
breakfast; in fact, you must eat more than you do
and more nourishing food. You must drink beer,
take cold plunge baths, and a great deal of exercise.”
It was the first time in my life that I submitted to a
physician's orders, and this time I obeyed. A great
epoch-making event had just taken place in Albany;
viz., a place was opened where Philadelphia lager-
beer was sold, and shortly thereafter civilization took
the further great stride forward, inasmuch as a Ger-
man established a brewery. I followed Dr. Lewi's
prescription; accustomed myself to eat raw meat;
yes, to eat more food, to drink beer, to take cold
baths, and to walk a great deal. My daily walking
companions were Joseph Sporterg, who took very
short steps, or Jacob Cohn, who walked in seven-
mile-boot fashion. Within a few months I had im-
proved greatly; but then a great conflagration re-
duced half of Albany to ashes, and my second child
became very sick. These two mishaps caused a re-
lapse, so that I could not think of doing any work,
even in the fall. My physician forbade all reading,
would not permit me to go to the State Library, and
put the key of my study in his pocket. Now I had
nothing to read but Goethe’s “Faust,” and brooded
the more on Goethe's thoughts, on Job, and Kant's
moral philosophy, so that the abstention from read-
ing was really worse for me.
I was in New York but once during the sum-
mer of 1848. Merzbacher, of blessed memory, had
invited me to preach in Temple Emanuel, situated
at that time on Christy Street. I did so. Several
I O2 ISAAC M. WISE
days later the Board of the congregation adopted a
resolution to the effect that in future no one should
be permitted to preach in the temple without their
consent. Parnassim were autocrats in those days, and
rabbis the paid servants of the congregations. I
knew this well; therefore it was quite in order that
the rabbi could not invite a colleague to occupy his
pulpit; but it appeared strange to me that the reso-
lution was adopted so soon after my sermon was
preached there. I therefore asked a man in whom
I reposed full confidence about it. He visited me in
Albany, and explained the whole affair to me. “Some
of our people,” said he, “who are beginning to grow
rich and aristocratic, look upon reform as a privilege
of the aristocracy. You, however, appear before the
people at large, and give expression to ideas of re-
form and progress, and for that reason they are preju-
diced against you. Besides, you have the reputation
of being an agitator and disturber, and therefore
many are afraid of your influence. Others fear your
radicalism, and accuse you of the desire to destroy
and to introduce innovations. The resolution of the
Board was really directed at you.”
Merzbacher sat in an adjoining room playing chess
with my wife. The words which he had spoken at
our first meeting occurred to me. I also thought of
Seward’s words, “The nations are not ready for free-
dom,” and I remained silent as the grave. This was
trying for my friend, and he himself resumed the
conversation by saying, “I know you feel hurt; but
you expect to hear the truth from me, and therefore
I had to tell it to you unreservedly.”
ReMINIscENCES I O 3
“Make no excuses, my dear friend. Truth never
hurts, but teaches me.” I handed him my auto-
graph album, in which he wrote, “The good man re-
quires no encouragement to do good.” “Yes,” I
added, “nor can he expect recognition or thanks. If
he does, he will be deceived in his expectations.”
I recognized that I stood alone, and could depend
neither for support nor sympathy on Germans or
Poles. But since the people desire neither me nor
my ideas, thought I, I shall accustom myself to eat
my morsel in peace until it shall please Providence
to relieve me of my office. I became at once exceed-
ingly amiable, obliging, tractable, polite, careless, and
sociable. The people came in great multitudes to
the synagogue on the following fall holidays to hear
me preach. I declaimed charmingly; hysterical
women wrote me anonymous love-letters; eccentric
men looked upon me as a demi-god, for I did not
mention reform nor progress, but uttered rhapsodies
on Israel’s greatness and Israel’s imperishable treas-
ures. The fall of 1848 found me a half-dead apostle
of peace, submissive, humble, and despairing. Not
one of the hundreds who heard me preach from the
pulpit or jest lightsomely in society at that time un-
derstood my state of mind. My sufferings were
my own.
The summer and fall of 1848 brought a fresh and
intelligent element into the population of the United
States. This included people with eccentric ideas
about freedom, communists, socialists, runaway stu-
dents, atheists, and pettifoggers; also enemies of
freedom, deserters, shipwrecked speculators, bank-
I O4 Isa AC M. WISE
rupt merchants, ragged trades-apprentices, question-
able professors, frightened farmers and artisans,
vagabond adventurers, rogues who had been set at
liberty, and other rabble; but the great majority of
the new immigrants were intelligent and cultured,
freedom-loving, and desirous of settling in the New
World. I saw barons serve as waiters, counts as .
cigar-makers, staff-officers as clerks, ex-professors
as factory hands. All this aroused very little notice,
because well-nigh every immigrant could lay claim
to some title, belonged to some prominent family,
and had been a staff officer, a high official, of noble
birth, or at least a physician or professor. Every
young man had attended some university or poly-
technical school, and was an officer. Every one had
fought on the barricades, and performed some deed
of heroism. It was therefore no longer surprising
that so many lofty personages were compelled to per-
form manual labor, no matter how great their pre-
tensions were otherwise.
The Jews who landed here were mostly young
people. They came to their senses very quickly, and
accommodated themselves to the new conditions.
Some queer characters appeared occasionally. I
knew one immigrant who began his career in the
New World as a canal-boat driver. Upon failing in
this, he became a schoolmaster, then an itinerant
musician, until finally he hit on the happy idea of
joining a troupe of actors; but not being able to
stand being hissed, he investigated his ways, repented,
was baptized, became a preacher, married, ran away,
enlisted as a soldier, succeeded in the army to such a
AET. SEVENTY-THREE

REM.INISCENCES I O 5
degree that he was placed in the hospital service.
Here he became a nurse; but he is still of the firm
opinion that he was intended for a better fate. An-
Other of this same ilk claimed to be an optician, sold
spectacles, called himself professor, pretended to be
able to grind glasses even for half-blind horses, and
furnished spectacles for men and horses, until one
fine morning he called to mind that he had been a
lawyer in Europe. He went to T., and established
himself as an attorney. Receiving but little practice,
he became a politician, and within three years was an
inmate of the penitentiary, whence he wrote to me.
I succeeded in having him released at the end of six
months, brought him from Sing Sing to New York,
procured passage for him on a steamer bound for
Mexico. I heard nothing from him till after the
French invasion, when he wrote me from Pueblo, and
signed himself “general.” I scarcely believed him,
for he had changed his name. Another came to me
on Shabuoth, 1849, and imparted to me the tragical
information that he was going to drown himself. He
claimed to have entered the service of a barber; but
he was too old to learn the trade; therefore he was
the target of constant mockery, which he could no
longer endure. “Very well,” said I, “I will procure
decent burial for your body in case it is found.” He
looked at me in astonishment. I gave him a free
lecture on cowardice, etc., and invited him to come
again on the morrow, if he should still be in the land
of the living. He came. I procured a hundred dol-
lars’ worth of goods for him on credit. He went
peddling, and soon became a respectable merchant.
I oé IsAAc M. WISE
He is the same to this day in the city of New York.
Another who is at present quite a prominent mer-
chant in New York, was a tinner's apprentice when
he was twenty or twenty-one years old. He received
three dollars a week, of which he spent two dollars
and a half for board and lodging. He had come to
this country with the idea that every man should
learn a trade. I took him to , procured a position
for him in a store. He was industrious and honest,
and advanced rapidly. There were many oppor-
tunities at that time for young men. I had little
money, but wide acquaintance and influence, and was
enabled to help many. My home was a hotel. He
who wished came and ate. There was always an
abundance, and my wife was always happy when she
could do a stranger a good turn. As a result, I had
many warm friends among the younger generation.
We formed a German literary society in the year
1848. Cultured people were to meet here. German
life and thought were in a sorry plight in America
at that time. The Germans spoke and wrote a
wretched jargon composed of German-English
phrases and words, so that the newly-arrived immi-
grant could frequently not understand his country-
men. There was not one German paper in the East,
outside of New York, that did not use this jargon,
not one in the South, and but two or three in the
whole West. The natives looked down upon the
Germans and everything German with a kind of con-
tempt. They called them Dutch, i. e., common; while
on the other hand Frenchmen and Poles were highly
respected for their love of liberty. The events of
REM.INIscENCES 1 o'7
1848 had raised the Germans very much in public
estimation, and the immigration of so many intelli-
gent people re-enforced this favorable turn of opin-
ion. The German literary society of Albany was
founded long before German societies for the culti-
vation of German literature and the German lan-
guage became general.
A number of young people, including Dr. Lewi,
the two brothers Beckel, Jacob Bamberger, Jacob
Blumenthal, Moses Sporberg, Edward Bloch, Arnold
Kaichen (deceased), Edward Sinsheimer, Leopold
Stern (deceased), Herman Glouber, now in San Fran-
cisco, Professor Backhaus, who could read Geibel's
poems well, and others, organized said society for the
purpose of speaking and debating in German, giving
German readings, conducting a theater, and encour-
aging social intercourse. My opponents called the
society the rabbinical guard. This was not far from
the mark, for it consisted of my warmest friends, with
whom I passed many happy hours, and who always
supported me like brothers in time of need.
Shortly thereafter we made a geological discovery;
that is, we found beneath the ground, or, in other
words, in a wretched basement one story lower than
the street, a certain Mr. Liberati, with his wife and
sister-in-law, the daughters of the actor Spizeder.
They were a musical family, but in such reduced cir-
cumstances that they had to full uppers for shoe-
makers. Liberati was, as he himself said, one of
those Berliners who never had an idea; but he was
an excellent singer and vocal teacher. We brought
him forth from his subterranean hiding-place, and
I o8 Is AAC M. WISE
constituted him commander-in-chief of all the mu-
sical forces at our command. In the first place, he
was elevated to the position of teacher, director, and
first tenor of our synagogal choir. He was the first
non-Jew to sing in such a choir. He was often as-
sisted by his wife and sister-in-law. We gathered
together also all those who had any musical talent
within and without the literary society, and formed
in the literary society the first German singing soci-
ety. Albany began to speak and to sing German in
1849. The efforts were not always worthy of praise;
but occasionally there were excellent literary and
musical performances. The debates were very poor
in the beginning; but they grew better and better
in the course of time. Slight mistakes made in the
heat of debate, such as Rasperan for Spartan, T2elem-
carrier for crusader, milk-soup for milky way, and
the like, although causing laughter, never prevented
the debaters from trying again, until finally young
people and elderly shoemakers, tailors and un-
schooled shopkeepers, succeeded in expressing their
thoughts smoothly and elegantly.
We were very unfortunate in the beginning with
our singing society, notably because of the lack of
good female voices; but we gave concerts neverthe-
less. Gradually several excellent women’s voices
were cultivated, and Albany had to sing; whether well
or poorly, whether willingly or unwillingly, Albany
had to sing. In the entire eastern section of the
country there was at that time no German literary
and singing society besides this one at Albany. At
the same time we began an agitation among the non-
REM.INIscENCES Io9
Jewish German population of Albany to start a Ger-
man school for our co-member, Professor Backhaus,
and we succeeded in this. Thus the first German
school of Albany was founded, although German had
always been taught in my own school. Later we
were instrumental in founding the German Immigra-
tion Society, and had even to serve as secret police-
men in order to protect the immigrants. I myself
carried in my pocket such a commission from Mayor
Perry, and was often engaged in active service to
restrain the rabble who robbed the immigrants. Yet
malevolent people accuse me of being inimical to
matters German. I have always disdained to defend
myself, and I continue to do so.
Two characteristic occurrences that took place
in the literary and singing societies may be recounted
here. Liberati, as is usually the case with artists,
was always hard up. It was resolved to give a benefit
performance; viz., a concert in the hall of the Female
Academy, the meeting-place of the elite. After many
rehearsals and extensive advertisements, the con-
cert took place. The audience sat on the upholstered
benches in eager anticipation, until finally the mixed
chorus sang the first number. Everything moved
along smoothly until the star of the evening, Liber-
ati, appeared. Then the misfortune began. He had
a little, snarling, growling, vicious dog, which could
not be separated from its master by any device. The
animal was one of Darwin's religious dogs, which
worshiped its master, but in a barking and ear-split-
ting fashion. As Liberati began to sing, the growl-
ing little beast began to howl dismally; and peals of
I IO ISAAC M. WISE
laughter drowned the discord. Some one took the
dog by the nape of the neck, and threw it out, while
it continued to whine in 3-4 measure. Liberati be-
gan his song anew ; but, horrors l the dog sat outside
on the window-frame, and howled dreadfully. The
animal was thrown down from the window, and Lib-
erati began a third time. The dog now rushed, whin-
ing and howling, along the passage-way, and looked
for its well-beloved and highly-revered lord and mas-
ter, and growled without ceasing because of the
imagined misfortune. How malicious is fate | The
causes of great events are often thus small and in-
significant. The first great German concert would
have been a disastrous failure because of a dog
which no one wanted, had not Liberati taken the
dog home at the last moment and tied it fast. But
after that the concert was a success. The German
Literary and Singing Society crowned itself with
glory, and Liberati (without his dog) was the hero
of the day.
Somewhat later the literary society acquired a
beautiful home in the house of Mr. Abraham West-
heimer. A stage was erected here. Since most of
the members were Jews, Schiller’s Robbers had to
be performed as a matter of course. Now active
study and rehearsal began, and every one “robbed.”
One of our Jacobs undertook the rôle of Franz
Moor, studied diligently, and, in order to strangle.
himself decently, took special lessons in suicide a la
Moor. He was conscious of his mastership, and
trod upon the stage sure of victory. The audience
was large, and followed the play with strained at-
REM.INIscENCEs I I I
tention. The breathless quiet in the auditorium was
broken only by the applause. Among the audience
there is, however, also a “green” sister of our art-
istic Jacob. She sits enchanted. She listens and
looks and wonders, until finally Franz becomes en-
tirely m'shugga in the strangling scene. This fright-
ens the loving sister out of her wits, and she cries
aloud, with piercing voice, “Sh’ma Yisroel, Jacob,
you are strangling yourself!” Some one tugs at
her dress to make her keep quiet; but she cries
still more loudly, “Sh’ma Yisroel, he strangles him-
self anyway!” It was most painful. The good fel-
low had studied suicide so thoroughly, had played
it so splendidly, had portrayed it so masterfully;
and now the wretched sister has to spoil it all ! Yes,
truly, man proposes and God disposes.
Although there were many such laughable oc-
currences, yet the society was in truth a remarkable
achievement. The degrading saloon life had no
longer any attractions for the members. Good so-
ciety, decency, and instructive as well as enter-
taining conversation were to be found always
in the society's rooms. Tone, language, and
taste were ennobled, knowledge was increased,
and the members became in time real friends
to one another. Many a song that was sung there
still sounds in my ear, and many a beautiful word
spoken there sank into receptive hearts. The society
was an institute of culture for very many.
For me the society was an oasis in the wilderness;
for there I found myself among my best, truest, and
warmest friends, with whom I could exchange ideas
I I 2 Isa AC M. WISE
freely, so that even now every one of them is vividly
present before me, and every friend of those days
is still dear to me.
Our choir in the synagogue grew better and bet-
ter. A Mr. Brand, from Reggendorf, a young man
of musical education, a clerk of Moses Schloss,
undertook the direction of the choir, and accom-
plished much. He gave his services gratis. Brand
was an enthusiastic musician, and succeeded in
arousing the singers to do their best. They stud-
ied Sulzer's compositions, and succeeded in render-
ing them very passably. I enjoyed being present at
the rehearsals, and assisted as far as I was able.
At times I even instructed the singers. The magic
power of music enlivened and refreshed me in dark
hours.
When Liberati undertook the direction of the
choir, he found it fairly well prepared. Had it not
been for the choir, the literary society would not
have succeeded in organizing a singing section.
The choir, as a matter of course, improved greatly
under Liberati’s direction and instruction.
But my opponents had no ear for music. Al-
though the choir cost the congregation scarcely any-
thing, it was a thorn in their side. They bewailed
the disappearance of the old sing-song, and there
were constant bickerings. Two questions stirred up
the waters of strife once again. I wanted to have
German and English hymns sung during the serv-
ice, and they wanted to recite the Y’qum Purqan.
This proved an apple of discord. True, the hymns
REM.INISCENCES II 3
were sung, but the harmony was missing. The in-
novation was discussed in all the saloons, and loudly
condemned, until the minority finally succeeded in
carrying a resolution to eliminate the hymns from
the service at a meeting in which they claimed to
be in the majority. Since neither party, however,
would surrender, I was compelled to introduce a serv-
ice on Sabbath afternoon, when hymns were sung.
During the morning service the hymns were limited
to a song before and after the sermon. Even this
was a source of great aggravation to the conserva-
tives. I had a friend by the name of Dr. Campbell,
the minister of a very large Christian congregation.
I came into frequent contact with him since we were
both members of the Purchasing Committees of the
two libraries. This man was learned and liberal.
We exchanged thoughts and held many interesting
conversations. I told him this affair of the hymns.
“I am not surprised at that,” said my friend. “They
say that I have the most intelligent congregation in
Albany, and yet it is only fifteen years since a choir
was established, and that, too, with great effort,
the ultra-orthodox element being bitterly opposed
to it. The choir leader had no instrument; hence
he frequently gave a false pitch. Finally he dared
to bring a tuning-fork into the church in order to
be able to give the right pitch always. An old, gray-
haired pillar of the Church, who heard and saw the
unfortunate tuning-fork, arose in the midst of the
service, and cried out with a loud voice, ‘I demand
that this instrument of hell be removed from the
8
II.4. IsAAC M. WISE
house of God l’ and, in truth, the tuning-fork was
not permitted to be brought into the church for a
long time.”
Ah! so there are also narrow-minded Christians,
thought I; but this does not excuse the Jews. My
opponents advanced the argument that I wished to
introduce the hymns in order to make myself popu-
lar among the Christians. One of them reproached
my wife bitterly, thus: “Your husband associates
the year round with goyim, gallachim, and sºroress.
He wishes to have nothing to do with us Jews. The
Goyim will thank him heartily after he has shimad
us all.”
Then there was a second cause of contention.
The neglect of the growing youth was general among
the immigrants. The girls were given no education,
and the boys had to begin to earn their living at
thirteen. The height of a father's ambition was to
place his son in some business as errand or store
boy. I attempted to effect some improvement in this
matter. There were two higher institutions of learn-
ing for boys and girls in Albany, called academies,
where the sons and daughters of the aristocratic
families received their education. The directors of
both institutions treated me very cordially, visited
my school, attended the examinations, and showed
a great interest in my young people. I knew that
every one of my scholars would be admitted into
the academy without examination, and insisted that
the best pupils should be sent there. My friends
seconded my wishes, and I had the satisfaction of
sending to both academies male and female schol-
REM.INIscENCES II 5
ars who were well prepared and able. I thought
to myself, These children will be brought into new
surroundings, their views will be changed, and they
will be lifted out of the lower strata of society. This
thought of mine attained realization; for it became
the fashion later to send the children to the acade-
mies; and many a youth of splendid powers was
educated there. My opponents thought otherwise.
“He wants to shimad the children,” was the war-cry.
“We have a Jewish school, and now he himself
takes the children to the Christian schools.” Thus
sounded the lamentation. One of them said to me
on the day before Yom Kippur: “I shall not go to
the synagogue to-morrow. I do not intend to be
converted this year to Christianity.” I never spoke
with that man from that day. I wrote in my diary
on the day after Yom Kippur: “He who is greatly
praised and appreciated is also greatly misunder-
stood and condemned. Avoid the former in order
to be spared the latter. He whose plans are readily
praised and lauded by every one stands but little
above the average man.” I did not cease preach-
ing on light and progress with all my might. I
spoke from the pulpit clearly and unreservedly in
accordance with my innermost convictions, and cared
little how much the people protested. With the
improvement of my health I awoke again to the
consciousness of my duty and my mission. “What
do you hope to accomplish with these people?” said
Theophilus Wood to me one day. “There are many
among them who are incapable of thought.” “Never-
theless,” I answered, “I am under a compulsion to
I 16 IsAAC M. WISE
uplift this Judaism and gain recognition for it, or
to succumb in the struggle. He is a worthless fel-
low who becomes faithless to his own convictions.”
The passion to improve the world had again taken
possession of me. I struggled and strove, like One
possessed, without purpose or forethought. I rushed
on like a runaway horse, without plan or calcula-
tion, without wisdom or consideration. May God
forgive my sins! *
There was a further cause of discord still more
serious than this, because it involved some of my
best friends, and, most unfortunate part of all, the
women also. As is well known, women were com-
pelled to sit in the gallery. They were not admitted
to the floor of the synagogue. The synagogue of
the Bethel congregation was small. Every seat
was sold. Hence we could find no room for the
choir. The choir increased in size; but the space
in the synagogue did not. Besides, the girls did not
wish to sit any longer among the men, and we had
to make suitable provision for them. I suggested
to apportion the seats anew, and to set apart half
of the floor, as well as of the gallery, for the women.
A storm of protests was raised at this because every
seat had been sold, and because the suggested inno-
vation itself met with strong opposition. The Board,
under the leadership of Henry Blattner and Jacob
Cohn, resolved upon a coup d’etat. The gallery on
the north side of the synagogue, where the choice
women’s seats were, was extended towards the front,
and this new portion was assigned to the choir, which
occupied it on the following Sabbath. This was
REM.INISCENCES 1 17
the signal for an uprising of the Amazons. A front
seat in the first row of the gallery was equivalent,
in the eyes of every woman, to her jewelry and her
finest clothes. A front seat was a distinction for
life, the sign of wealth and dignity, a post of honor.
A woman who occupied a front seat was an aristo-
crat, a prominent personage, a distinguished noble-
woman in Jewry. All the women who had had front
seats in the north gallery of the synagogue had lost
their fine seats in a trice, and the choir sat in front
of them. All the Sarahs, Rebeccas, Miriams, and
Deborahs rose in their wrath, and the state was on
the brink of destruction. The ladies began the
campaign against the choir already during the serv-
ice; but the choir endured in silence. After the
service the terrible storm broke. The Board insisted
on the innovation, the women protested, and their
husbands had to take sides with them. Words and
explanations were in vain. The bitter feelings grew
from day to day, and there was likelihood that un-
pleasant occurrences would take place during the
service. The Board had to yield, and the new por-
tion of the gallery had to be removed. The choir
did not wish to sing any more; for the girls objected
strenuously to sitting among the men. Happily
there was an unused space in the western end of
the synagogue that had been set aside for the mem-
bers of the Board. This space was brought into use.
A stair was built from the substructure of the syna-
gogue to this space, which was converted into a
handsome perch, and provided with red curtains.
The choir was placed here.
I 18 IsAAC M. WISE
I was blamed for everything. My opponents made
capital out of all these doings. The gallery was
removed, but not the bitterness against me; this
remained. I minded it very little; for I had acquired
quite a fund of equanimity, and I would in all like-
lihood have paid very little attention to public opin-
ion had not a curtain lecture—the first I had ever
received—caused me to change front. One even-
ing my wife entered my study solemnly, and sat
down opposite me. I saw at once that a storm was
brewing, and broke the deep silence in the tenderest
manner. All in vain. The carefully-prepared cur-
tain lecture had to be delivered. I can not recall
the rather lengthy speech, although I followed it
very closely; but I still remember the drift of it.
It was somewhat as follows: “What will become of
your wife and children if you lose your position;
and you will certainly lose it if you will not treat
your people more friendly and considerately. You
are sick and frail, and you make matters worse by
new struggles and exertions, which no other per-
son would think of undertaking. Be sensible. Think
of the future. Consider your wife and children.
Take care of yourself, and be a little easier on people.”
I was edified, deeply moved, and convinced of
my foolish enthusiasm. I promised to be good,
proper, wise, orderly, and domestic; in short, I prom-
ised everything which was necessary to make of me
a humdrum Philistine, and I succeeded admirably in
calming my wife.
VI
| MET Chief-Justice Wood the next day at the
library, and told him how distasteful my position
had grown to me because of the constant bicker-
ings of my opponents, who did all they could to
embitter my life. “If you must remain in the min-
istry absolutely,” said he, “why do you not go to
decent people, who will appreciate your talents and
your achievements? You can accomplish nothing
with these ‘Dutchmen.’ Take my advice, go to
Campbell or Wykoff. They are both good friends
of yours, and will treat you well. Take lessons in
the Christian catechism. You will master the whole
thing in a few days; then you will be baptized with
great pomp, redeemed, reborn. In a few weeks you
will be at the head of a rich congregation, which will
consider itself fortunate in possessing such a promi-
nent apostate. And, if not that, you can obtain a
professorship somewhere. You will read, study
think, and live as heretofore; you will be well placed
and live in peace and quiet. Adieu ye Jews, adieu
ye ‘Dutchmen l’”
“Had I been willing to take such a step, I could
have done it in Austria, and to much better advan-
tage,” I replied; “but I came to America in order
to be able to live as a free man in accordance with
my convictions.” “Priests require no convictions;
II9
I 20 IsAAC M. WISE
hence, since you have convictions, you can not re-
main a priest,” said he, earnestly. “The preacher
accepts the standpoint of the congregation the mo-
ment he enters upon the position, explains, strength-
ens, and defends it. As soon as he urges his own
convictions, he breaks his contract, and his occupa-
tion is gone.”
“But if I leave the pulpit, what else can I do?”
“What can you do? You ought to be ashamed
of this question, which shows so little courage. I
pledge you my word that in a year from now you
will be one of our best lawyers, if you will apply
yourself diligently. I will take you as a partner as
soon as I return to active practice.”
I took note of this, and visited Amos Dean that
same evening. He convinced me that I would be
able to read enough in one year to prepare myself
sufficiently for the practice of law. I went to the
bookstore immediately, bought copies of Kent,
Blackstone, and a legal lexicon, came home, and
began to read. Alone in my room, as I thought, I
soliloquized aloud in this fashion: “Ye books Ye
shall provide for my wife and children as surely as
the stars glow in heaven; but men shall not move
me a hair's-breadth from my convictions.” But
my little daughter lay in the adjoining room, and,
hearing my voice, she came to me and said, or, rather,
lisped: “Papa, mamma says the people here do not
want you any longer. Stay with us; we want you.”
No! no I shall not even attempt to describe my
sensations. I took the child back to its little bed,
and wept for the first time since I had stood on the
REM.INIscENCES I 2 I
frontier between Bavaria and Saxony and cast a
last glance at the beautiful Eger Valley. I was
ashamed of my nervous sentimentalism; but I had
to cry.
A young, learned, and convert-seeking clergyman
was elected chief secretary of the Presbyterian Gen-
eral Assembly in the year 1849. Together with sev-
eral other not unimportant colleagues he issued a
manifesto to the Jews, and demanded that they enter
the Presbyterian Church in corpore. Reasons were
given, and the threat was added that the mission-
aries would visit the Jewish families and prepare
them for conversion. This aroused the missionaries
of other sects to redoubled activity among the Jews.
The result was that shortly thereafter the whole
country swarmed with conversion-apostles, and the
conversion of the Jews was lauded in all pulpits as
highly praiseworthy. Not one person on the Jew-
ish side had a word to say in reference to this mat-
ter. The helpless multitude lay in complete inactiv-
ity. The missionaries did not come to Albany.
Whenever one of them stopped off, Dr. Wykoff sent
him away with the good advice to betake himself
to a more fruitful field; hence I had no opportunity
to fight against the agitation. One day, Isaac Leeser
visited me and told me that he had written to all
his contributors, and had requested them to write
something in defense, but that he had received no
answer whatever from the majority. Some had sent
him useless treatises, and he himself was not in a
condition to take up the question.
“Why did you not write to me?” I asked
I 2.2 Isaac M. WISE
“I must tell you the truth,” Leeser answered, em-
barrassed. “My readers are much displeased at me
for accepting contributions from your pen. They
can not stand your rationalistic views.”
“So they, too, wish to have nothing to do with me,”
I mused, as Leeser continued in an humbler tone:
“I am, however, more concerned for Judaism than
for my readers. I beg you, therefore, to take up
the fight against the manifesto.”
“I have the same duty,” answered I. “I, too, am
more concerned for Judaism than for your readers.
Therefore I will take up the fight against the mani-
festo—i. e., if my plan of campaign is agreeable to
you.”
“What is it?”
“Offensive, and not defensive,” said T. “The war
must be carried into the enemy's country. I am tired
of having to tell people time and time again why
we are not Christians. I will try to make them
comprehend that they, as rational beings, have no
right to accept the Christian dogma.”
We agreed, and I wrote for the Occident a series
of critical articles on the New Testament, with par-
ticular reference to the Westminster Confession.
The articles aroused attention, but they cost me
my standing in the esteem of the orthodox believers.
I attacked Christianity critically from the rational-
istic standpoint; hence I had to administer orthodox
Judaism almost as many blows as Orthodox Christian-
ity. Miracles were not wonderful nor marvelous
for me, and the Messiah was dismissed as a poetical
REM.INIscENCES I 23
fiction. The ascension of Jesus and the ascension
of Elijah were equally important, or, rather, equally
unimportant for me; therefore the orthodox became
bitterly incensed at me. The only one who, as far
as I know, welcomed the articles, was Theodore
Parker, who expressed his gratification publicly.
My friends in Albany considered anything that I
wrote good, and Chief-Justice Wood danced about
like a mischievous boy with my articles in his hand,
read them aloud to Streeter at least once a day
to annoy him, and sent them to all his friends.
The effect of these articles was really abnormal.
They aroused so much dread in Christian circles
that the officers of the Synod forbade their learned
secretary to answer me a second time, as he had
done once before, which answer had elicited a sharp
refutation from me. There was joy among the Jews
at this decisive attack on Christianity; but even now
these did not want to have anything to do with me.
Several indignant preachers of Albany succeeded in
inducing the governor to strike my name from the
Library Committee, because this was a State office
and I was no citizen; but this was only done pro
forma; for I served thereafter as before. My Jew-
ish enemies in Albany made capital of the affair in
a wonderful manner. “See, he attacks even the Tole.
He will make so much Rishuth that we will all receive
Gerush.” The cowardly and malicious spoke in this
manner. The most wonderful remark, however, was
made by a certain person who violated all the canons
of logic thus: “I have told you long ago that he
I 24 IsAAC M. WISE
has the Tole on the brain. Any one who writes in
that way must think necessarily of the Tole day
and night. He will shimad himself, and you too.”
I could but laugh at all this; even though it con-
tributed towards stirring up the people against me,
and I did nothing to propitiate them. I sat and read
and dreamed; I went to the libraries, the literary
society, the choir, the school, the synagogue, and
home again, without seeking friendships or placat-
ing enmities.
An armistice was declared in the summer of
1849; for the cholera broke out and spread fear
and dread. There were scarcely any cases of
cholera among the Jews. Only one member of
our congregation was stricken, but he recovered.
I permitted the Odd Fellows to assign too great
a share of the work to me, more than my weak-
ened constitution could stand. On account of the
epidemic I had to discontinue my baths; and
upon the advice of my house friend and phy-
sician I drank more brandy than was good for my
nervous system. The evil effects followed. As long
as the epidemic lasted, I was in a state of con-
tinual agitation, and did not notice how my chest
trouble grew worse and worse. One Friday night,
when the cholera epidemic was almost at an end,
my youngest child, Laura, a little angel, two years
old, took sick, and died of cholera infantum Satur-
day noon. The grief at the loss of the dear little
angel dazed me at first; and when I was myself again,
I was as ill, exhausted, and downcast as I had been
the year before. My cough grew worse and worse.
REM.INIscENCES I 25
I had frequent attacks of hypochondria, and became
entirely unfitted for society.
In addition, untoward events took place in my
congregation, which discouraged me completely.
At the funeral of my Laura, the “pious” members
of the congregation wanted to cut the Q'riah for me.
I repelled them, and forbade the women to even
suggest this observance to my wife. People visited
me after the funeral, but they did not find me sit-
ting on the floor; further, my feet were shod in boots;
in short, I observed none of the traditional mourning
customs. This fanned the slumbering embers of the
old quarrel into flame. During the fall holidays I was
the subject of the most violent and bitter discussions
on the street, in the saloons, at the gaming-table, at
all of which my friends were exceedingly angered.
In order to vex me as much as possible, signatures
were solicited for a petition to the congregation to
do away with the principal reforms, and to reintro-
duce the prayers containing the references to the
personal Messiah. My friends had taken steps to-
wards building a new synagogue. The subject was
to be broached at the next congregational meeting.
But this idea of building a new synagogue had to
be relinquished because of the storm that was again
brewing. Blattner and others had arrived at the
conclusion that it was useless to try to accomplish
anything in the Bethel congregation; and they as-
sured me that, if I would speak the word, all my
friends would secede from the congregation and
form a new one. I did not wish to disrupt any con-
gregation, and begged my friends to dismiss the
I 26 IsAAC M. WISE
thought. The petition did not receive enough sig-
natures to assure a majority vote, and was not pre-
sented to the congregation; but the opposition did
not cease agitating, and I did not have the courage
to deal a decisive blow. True, the presentiment of
approaching death had left me, but in its place weari-
ness of life often overcame me. I was sick, hypo-
chondriacal, and surrounded by foes. The literary
Society also was threatened with dissolution, and I
had to take it into my own house in December, 1849.
Here it recovered soon, and acquired a new home.
Besides, I devoted myself also to the study of law. I
wanted to become a lawyer as quickly as possible
in order to protect my family against future eventu-
alities. I worked like one possessed. I studied fre-
quently till two o'clock in the morning. My wife
scolded and cried, but I could not respect her wishes.
“I must remain a free man, come what may,” I said
to myself often. I wrote also for several newspapers
and gave private lessons in order to support my
family decently.
In February, 1850, my physician grew alarmed;
for I coughed terribly. “You must go South for
several weeks,” said he. The Board gave me leave
of absence, and I started on my journey in the be-
ginning of February. This journey was the turning-
point of my career.
There was at that time no direct railroad con-
nection between Albany and New York. The trav-
eler had to go eastward first via the Boston Road,
then southward to Bridgeport via the Housatonic
Road, and from there to New York by steamer.
REM.INISCENCES 127
It took generally from sixteen to eighteen hours
to make the trip in case the Hudson was frozen over.
This was the case during four or five months of every
year. I traveled then for sixteen hours to New
York; that is, I had nothing to do for sixteen hours.
This had not happened to me for years. The whole
past passed before me involuntarily. It stood out
as clearly defined as a groove. With what high hopes
I had traveled up the Hudson not quite four years
before ! How disappointed and discouraged I was
now, traveling back | I examined myself carefully
in the mirror of my own consciousness, and saw in
my mind's eye a man physically and mentally broken,
without any prospects of improvement, without any
hope for the future. The rough rails and the uncom-
fortable seat in the jostling car had made me so
downhearted that I wished for a disastrous railroad
wreck. Life is not worth living; thought I, and I
began to growl at the existing order of things.
“There is some mistake in the plan of creation, or
else one would be able to drink food.” This is the
experience of all idealists and enthusiasts, thought I.
In the morning of life they go forth into the beauti-
ful world with their hearts full of glowing love, their
souls filled with great plans, their imaginations teem-
ing with air-castles. They embrace the world with
burning love; their hearts beat high with the
thought of the noble deeds they will accomplish.
Poor dreamers' At night they return home weary,
downcast, deceived, and rejected. They imagined
that rocks had souls, but they found therein only
petrified corpses. Why has Providence created these
I 28 Isaac M. WISE
idealists and enthusiasts to their own hurt? Why
has it destined its noblest work to suffer pain and
disappointment? O Job, Job, thy plaints are justi-
fied, and the answer which was given thee is as good
as none
Thus I dreamed, mused, and rebelled for nine
hours from Albany to Bridgeport, without taking
a bite or speaking to a soul. Although railroad acci-
dents were not rare in those days, we reached
Bridgeport in safety, and immediately boarded the
steamer, which sped through the smooth waters
quickly and quietly. The motion, being different,
was very pleasant. I took supper, smoked a cigar,
and viewed the clear waters lying so calmly below
me. Then I gazed at the beautiful blue sky above me,
spangled with the stars so full of mystery, moving
in their orbits so noiselessly. And it occurred to
me that I was a naughty child which wanted every-
thing it could not have, and which imagined that
it understood everything better than its teacher and
master. I bethought myself, banished the feeling of
despondency, and arrived at New York cheerful and
bright.
Upon my arrival at New York, I went at once
to Dr. Lilienthal, partly to speak with him and partly
to pass a pleasant hour in the company of his wife
and sister, of both of whom I was very fond. I did
the latter first, and in the course of conversation I
learned from Dr. Lilienthal how shamefully he had
been treated by Dr. Raphall, who had recently ar-
rived from England. Lilienthal had been courteous
enough to call upon the new arrival, and had asked
REM.INIscENCEs I 29
him what had induced him to leave England to come
to America. Raphall, in answer, quoted the words
of one of the ancient rabbis, “Where there are no
men, strive thou to be a man.” Dr. Lilienthal ex-
cused himself after receiving this compliment.
“Ah! well, my dear sir,” thought I, “I shall pay
you in the same coin if ever I have the opportunity.”
This thing occurs frequently that people come from
Europe to this country with the idea that their like
has never been known, that they need only come,
and they will conquer at once and be enveloped in
the smoke of incense. “America is a humbug. I
am the great I am ; hence I am the hero of the
hour.”
During the course of our conversation, Lilienthal
informed me of his mournful experiences, and im-
parted to me his purpose of renouncing the ministry
altogether and devoting himself entirely to the educa-
tion of the young. This loosened my tongue, and I
told him my troubles. “There is no help for you,”
said my friend, who was really well-disposed towards
me. “If you want to be the Christ, you must expect
to be crucified. I will not. I shall do something
else for a living.”
This would have been a good lesson for me, if I
had had the power to use it to good effect. I wrote
these words in my diary, and have read them fre-
quently, and have thought time and again how true
and sensible they are.
I left for Philadelphia the next morning, to visit
Isaac Leeser. He invited me to supper. I found
that he boarded in a Christian house. When I called
9
I 30 ISAAC M. WISE
his attention to this inconsistency, that he, the or-
thodox chagan, preacher, and leader, lodged and ate
in a Christian house, even though he partook of
no meats, he confided his troubles to me, saying, in
conclusion, that he expected to lose his position.
“I see that every one has his burdens to bear,” I
mused, as Leeser continued complainingly and in-
formed me that Judaism in America was going back-
wards constantly. He offered in proof of his asser-
tion the fact that the reform congregations in New
York, Baltimore, and Charleston were making
marked progress. “And you say this to me?” I
retorted. “Certainly,” he answered, “you with your
reform ideas stand on historical ground, but those
others are innovators without principles.” “Views
differ indeed,” thought I. “At home they look upon
me as the worst of all, and this man thinks there are
others still worse than I am.” I appreciated the
compliment. Leeser then told me of his purpose
to translate the whole Bible into English. He read
me some specimen pages. An interesting conver-
sation, which convinced me of Leeser’s scant knowl-
edge of the sources, ensued. “Why do you not
procure copies of Cahn's French and Philippson's
German Bibles?” I asked. “They are reformers.
I will have nothing to do with them,” was the an-
swer. I now explained to him that Cahn had de-
veloped reform ideas only in his introductions, and
that Philippson’s work might be called, not only
orthodox, but hyper-orthodox. Leeser bought these
books. Philippson considered it a very high compli-
ment that Leeser made use of his Bible; but he gave
REM.INIscENCES I 31
me, who had been instrumental in effecting this, a
blow whenever he could. In truth, the German Jew-
ish journalists, with few exceptions, have always
treated me shamefully.
In the further course of the conversation I
discovered that Raphall had treated Leeser as
curtly as he had Lilienthal, and that his pres-
ence in America was not very agreeable to
him. I was acquainted with Raphall’s liter-
ary productions. I knew also that he was an
excellent pulpiteer. Leeser informed me further that
Raphall’s six lectures on Hebrew poetry had attracted
much attention, and I readily understood that this
was unpleasant for Leeser, since he did not wish
to be number two in the orthodox camp. Leeser
said in an off-hand way: “Raphall is lecturing in
Richmond at present. From there he will go to
Charleston to lecture and to champion the cause of
the orthodox congregation.” I understood very well
that he wanted to send me to Charleston to oppose
Raphall; but I directed the conversation into another
channel. Before my departure, late that night, I
informed him that I intended to spend ten or twelve
days in Washington, and that I might then go to
Charleston if a favorable opportunity presented it-
self. Leeser furnished me at once with the addresses
of the prominent members of the reform congrega-
tion of Charleston. He assured me that the people
at Charleston would learn where I could be found
in Washington, and made me promise him to send
him my first lecture if I should speak there or else-
where.
I 32 IsAAc M. WISE
I left for Washington the next morning. The
period of storm and stress of the Republic began in
the spring of 1849, with the famous six-hour speech
of Calhoun, of South Carolina, in the Senate. The
territories acquired in the Mexican War, including
California, which was of such great importance at
that time, were the bone of contention between the
North and the South. California had fulfilled the
conditions, and demanded to be admitted as a free
State. The slave-owners insisted upon their right
to emigrate to California or any other territory of
the United States with their negroes, and to be pro-
tected in their rights. The opponents of the slave-
power denied this emphatically. The case was of
such vital import, because the balance of power
of slave and free States would be disturbed by the
admission of California as a free State. By this
the free States would have a majority of two in the
Senate. The situation was highly critical. Both sides
were greatly excited, the leaders inexorable, and the
rebellion of 1860–61 threatened to break forth even
then. The slavery question was debated thoroughly
in Congress, the natural right to possess slaves, if
there be such a right, and the Constitutional guaran-
tees for the protection of the slaveholder, as well
as the political issues involved, were discussed from
every standpoint. Calhoun set the ball rolling in
1849 with the six-hour speech already mentioned,
which developed the following principle with masterly
logic: Freedom is an acquired and not an inborn
right. Right is that which the State recognizes as
such. The negro never acquired and never possessed
REM.INIscENCES I 33
freedom. The State recognizes negro slavery as
right. Therefore all territories of the United States
must be opened to slavery. William H. Seward
took the opposite stand. He held that man was
born free, and if the State sanctioned slavery, it
did wrong. There is a higher right than the power
of the State, to which he appealed against the ex-
tension of slavery. The political mediators stood
between these two extremes, among them Daniel
Webster, Henry Clay, Lewis Cass, Stephen A. Doug-
las. Webster argued from the standpoint of States'
rights, the others from the standpoint of compromise.
These mighty spirits clashed in the Senate, and dan-
gerous sparks flew. The compromise measures ad-
vocated by the Government and Henry Clay had
failed of adoption, and the Cass-Douglas Compro-
mise Bill, also called the Omnibus Bill, was before
the Senate. This bill provided for the admission
of California as a free State, recommended that the
Missouri line of division between slave and free
States be extended to the Pacific, and included a
number of other germane matters. I concluded to
remain in Washington till the question was settled,
since I wanted to listen to the interesting speeches
and debates in the Senate. -
I hied myself to the Capitol and Senate gallery
immediately upon my arrival in Washington, with-
out having taken time to change my clothes. The
Great Sanhedrin made a deep impression upon me;
the earnest, serious, prominent men of national
fame sat there in council, wrapped in a dignity that
commanded respect. The many hoary crowns, the
I 34 Is AAC M. WISE
finely-developed heads, the intelligent, clear-cut fea-
tures, the calm bearing, combined to form a remark-
able picture, which I still see in my mind's eye. I
occupied my seat in the gallery eight full days, re-
maining often till midnight, as long as the Senate
was in session. I was the first visitor to come and
the last to leave, and listened with undivided atten-
tion to the greatest speeches of the greatest states-
men of that time. Calhoun lay on his death-bed at
his hotel. I visited him shortly before his demise,
and heard the speech which he dictated on his death-
bed read in the Senate. I heard all the other celebri-
ties of that day, and formed the personal acquaint-
ance of most of them. I felt the truth of
the doctrine of the immortality of the soul
while I listened to the powerful and eloquent
words of these aged, gray-headed intellectual
giants, many of whom stood with one foot in
the grave. Sickness, cough, and hypochondria had
disappeared; the past was forgotten. I lived a new
life, or, rather, I dreamed a new dream, and my
imagination soared to other heights, and disported
itself in new fields.
I visited William H. Seward on the first morning
of my arrival in Washington. He received me like
an old friend, and declared his readiness to render
me any service or favor. I had heard and seen
enough to know that the all-important matters be-
fore the Senate required all his time and attention,
because, with the exception of Senator Hale, he
had no ally, and was attacked from all sides. I had
also heard that it was necessary that he, the anti-
REM.INIscences I 35
slavery apostle, should expose himself publicly as
little as possible in a city of strong pro-slavery sym-
pathies; for not every fanatic could be guarded
against. I therefore declined his kind offer with
thanks, and only asked the privilege of visiting him
Occasionally and being introduced by him to promi-
nent personages. “Let us begin at once with this,”
said he. After changing his clothes, he invited me
to walk with him. He offered me his arm, walked
with me from the hotel to the White House, chatted
in the most cordial manner imaginable, as though
there were affairs of import to be discussed between
us, stopped still several times, called my attention to
various buildings, took me through the Treasury
Building, and then to the White House into the
presence of the President. This was enough, and
more than enough. By the following evening I was
heralded throughout Washington as a notorious
celebrity and as one of Seward’s adherents, who, by
the way, did not enjoy the greatest popularity.
General Zachary Taylor was President; Fillmore,
Vice-President. Seward wanted me to see “Old
Zach.” Upon entering the White House, we en-
countered a negro, clad in black, dumb as a statue.
“Where is the President?” Without turning around
or uttering a word, the negro pointed backwards
to the staircase. We ascended the stairs. Seward
knocked at a door; a voice within bade us enter.
A fire was burning in the grate opposite the door,
chairs stood on both sides, and a man sat in front
of the fire, with his back to the door. Without turn-
ing around to see who it might be, he called out,
I 36 ISAAC M. WISE
“Step up closer, gentlemen; it is cold to-day.” We
took our positions on either side of the grate, and
I knew now that I was standing before the Presi-
dent. “Mr. President, I have the honor of introduc-
ing to you my friend from Albany,” said Seward.
The President extended his hand, and asked us to be
seated. After catechising me in true American
fashion, he said, “I suppose you have never seen
a President of the United States, and for that rea-
son you have paid me a visit.” “I beg pardon, Your
Excellency,” said I; “I had the honor of speaking
with your predecessor, James K. Polk. My object
in coming has been to see the hero of Buena Vista.”
Hereupon the old war-horse arose and bowed gra-
ciously. “Mr. Seward,” said he, “your friend seems .
to be very polite.” The old man became so talkative
that I ventured to say the following: “Your Excel-
lency, it has afforded me the keenest pleasure to
form the acquaintance of the hero-President—a
unique and magnificent personality. Permit me,
however, to say that I believe you have never seen
a person of my kind.” He looked at me dum-
founded. “I have seen people of all sorts and con-
ditions,” said he, “and would like to know what you
mean.” “Certainly,” said I, “I am a rabbi.” “You
are right; I have never seen a rabbi.” He now ex-
tended his hand a second time, and began the con-
versation anew. Seward, however, had to leave, and
politeness demanded that I leave with him. All the
Washington papers reported the visit the next morn-
ing under the caption, “The First Rabbi to Visit a
REM.INIscENCES I 37
President.” The simple incident was made much
of and given the widest publicity.
Mr. Schoolcraft, our representative in Congress
from Albany, an old Quaker bachelor, met us on our
way from the White House to the Capitol. He in-
formed Seward that Daniel Webster was ill, and
would not appear in the Senate chamber that morn-
ing. “Does he receive visitors?” I asked. “Yes,
indeed; he will be happy to have company.” “May
I ask you to introduce me to him?” Schoolcraft and
I now called on Webster, whom we found sick abed.
Schoolcraft introduced me. “Please repeat the
name.” Schoolcraft did so. “I have heard the name.
I must know you. Whence do I know you?” I
grew embarrassed; for I had never seen him, and
had no reputation through which Webster might
have heard of me. “I am sure I do not know, unless
you have been in Albany, Mr. Senator,” I stammered
in my embarrassment. “Ah! yes, quite right; now
I remember,” said Webster, relieving me of my em-
barrassment. “I spent a Sunday in Albany last fall
with Amos Dean, and he spoke to me about you.
I asked him for something new to read, and he
handed me your manuscript on Herbart’s psychology.
I read it through on my journey hither.” He opened
his desk, brought forth the manuscript, and showed
it to me. “I would like to talk over certain things
with you. Come and dine with me. You also, friend
Schoolcraft. Do n’t be late. And now I must beg
you to excuse me, gentlemen; my physician forbids
me to exert myself.”
138 IsAAC M. WISE
We arrived at Webster's at eight o'clock in the
evening. He began to speak of the manuscript at
table, and immediately thereafter I accompanied him
to his room, where he showed me that Amos Dean
had made corrections in my essay. Webster said
that they were only stylistic improvements. After
setting forth his relation to the Unitarian Church
and the Boston University, he gave me one of his
unpublished addresses to read, and added in a friendly
tone, “If you should like a position in our college, I
will gladly be of assistance to you.”
I left Webster late at night, a different person,
utterly changed and metamorphosed. I read the
unpublished address on natural right that same night.
It was an opening address delivered before the law
class. I wrote in my diary: “Webster is a grand
man. His voice is powerful and well modulated;
his face is good, kindly, and handsome. There is
fire in his glance. Sublimity sits on his brow. He
is well balanced throughout.” Upon visiting Sew-
ard the next morning, I told him what Webster
had said to me. “I have mentioned to Seymour and
Dr. Beck a number of times,” rejoined Seward, “that
they should call you to a chair in our college; but
they do no more than they must. But if you wish
such a position, it will not prove difficult to procure
it for you, and then you can continue to remain in the
State of New York.”
It need not be said that I felt much encouraged
and uplifted by these and similar utterances. This
mood was intensified upon my being introduced the
REMINISCENCE's I 39
following evening by Seward to the Austrian am-
bassador, Chevalier Hulsemann. Although I was
introduced to him as a fugitive countryman, he re-
ceived me none the less cordially, entered into con-
versation with me, and offered cigars, wine, and
cakes as refreshments. Although I owed this spe-
cial mark of attention to Seward, yet I could not
help thinking as follows: “If an ordinary rabbi from
the country, without reputation and influence,
would be received in this manner in the capital city
of Austria by the foremost personages, the news-
papers would talk about it for months; all Jewry
would be carried away with enthusiasm, and the
rabbi’s fortune would be made.” My sojourn in
Washington exerted an Americanizing influence upon
me on this very account. I felt that I was one of
the American people, although I had not yet been
naturalized, and from that time I said “we,” “us,”
and “our” quite unconsciously whenever I spoke of
American affairs. I felt greatly uplifted and aroused
by this intercourse with the greatest spirits of the
country and the kindly reception wherewith I met.
The intellectual eight-day combat that I witnessed
in the Senate stirred me mightily, enlarged my hori-
zon, refreshed my mind, and taught me what was
needed to become an English orator. I have never
neglected an opportunity since then to go to Wash-
ington and form the acquaintance of the leading
men of the Nation. These have been my best teach-
ers and my most instructive reading. If anybody
desires to know how it happens that I have always
I 4o IsAAC M. WISE
moved on the lofty platform of humanity, and have
always set in motion broad and inclusive projects,
even though they have not been great—and God
knows I have never concerned myself with triviali-
ties—I would answer him that I learned this from
our national politicians and statesmen, with whom
I much preferred to associate than with learned pro-
fessors.
VII
HAD not been in Washington many days before
I received an official invitation from the reformed
congregation in Charleston, in which my attention
was called particularly to Dr. Raphall’s attacks on
the reform movement. I telegraphed my acceptance
of the invitation, and after the Senate had come to a
vote I prepared for the journey. The result of the
vote was announced in the Senate at one o’clock;
the Omnibus Bill had passed; at two o'clock I was
On board the steamer that went down the Potomac
to Aquia Creek. Thence we went by train through
Virginia and North Carolina to Wilmington, and here
again embarked on a steamer bound for Charleston.
The trip from Washington to Charleston took thirty
hours in those days.
I had thirty hours to myself, with nothing to do
but give free rein to my thoughts. It occurred to
me now for the first time that I was not sick any
more. Hence my illness had been imaginary. I
recalled vividly all the reports which I had read or
heard of experiments of the power of imagination
over the body, and was finally convinced that the
depressing influence to which I had been exposed
for four years must have misled my imagination into
crooked byways, and I resolved to fetter and to rule
despotically this ape of the intellect which had played
I4I
I 42 Isa Ac M. WISE
these sorry tricks upon me. “I will or I will not,
shall be my determining principle from now on,” I
resolved. I wrote this in my diary, and have been
true to this resolution ever since. “Whoever is not an
Ego does not exist, and he only is an Ego who has
a will ruled by reason,” are the words which I wrote
in my diary. I wrote the sermon, “Bible Theology,”
on the steamer between Wilmington and Charleston.
This sermon, in which, to my great astonishment, I
later found this whole train of thought that I have
just jotted down reproduced, was published in the
Occident. I claimed that the theology of the Bible
rested on the basis of an Almighty Will, ruled by
reason (I was a thorough-going rationalist at that
time), while I considered heathen theology the out-
come of chance, the highly-colored result of imagi-
nation, without rhyme or reason, a fatalism of the
fancy. I came to Charleston as though newly-borr,
like one who, awakening to active consciousness from
a long, distressing dream, recognized that it was all
a dream. However, new experiences, seemingly
providential, awaited me in Charleston. These
spurred me on mightily to action, and demanded a
firm stand on my part.
A committee met me at the steamer. Among
others, Dr. Roderigos and Mr. Poznanski, the chazan,
preacher and leader of the reform congregation, that
consisted of Americans of Portuguese descent, were
members of this committee. The stiff formality of
the reception was objectionable to me, for Mr. P.
welcomed me in a studied address; but I was rather
vexed when Mr. P. said to me while riding in the
REM.INIscENCE's I 43
carriage: “We have invited you hither to defend our
principles, and since these are possibly unknown to
you, I place myself at your service to impart them
to you.” “Thanks, that is not necessary,” I an-
swered, quietly. “I have come to set forth my prin-
ciples.” “In truth, you are the man for Charleston,”
exclaimed Dr. Roderigos, extending his hand to me,
and pressing mine warmly so that I began to feel at
home. I was domiciled in splendid rooms. A negro
was placed at my disposal. I was the guest of Amer-
ican aristocrats for the first time in my life; for
there was but one German in the whole congregation,
the members of which were influential merchants,
bankers, lawyers, physicians, authors, politicians, pub-
lic officials, most of them rich, and descended from
old Portuguese families. Proud were they of their
descent and their civic standing. They were people
of culture and refinement. The most prominent
members of the congregation visited me within the
course of a few hours, and I perceived at once that
my surroundings were entirely different from what
they had been hitherto. Mr. Poznanski continued to
patronize me in the most amiable and condescending
manner. He even explained to me, who found it
difficult to sit quiet for one minute, that it was good
form to sit with folded hands in society. He also told
me, who had nothing to conceal, and hence always
spoke as I thought, that one must speak slowly and
deliberately; in short, he wished to fashion me ac-
cording to the Charleston pattern. I listened to him
without laughing and without showing any impa-
tience, until he ventured to suggest that I read him
I 44 ISAAC M. WISE
my sermon for fear lest there be some Germanisms
in it. “If there are, you would substitute Polisms for
them,” said I. “I speak German better than you do,
and write a better English than you will ever speak.”
Thus ended the first act of the drama. Poznanski un-
doubtedly thought that I was an ill-mannered boor,
who would not take any advice. He put a good face
on the matter, so that we always treated one another
cordially, although he was rich and proud, and blessed
with a goodly share of self-consciousness.
The magnificent temple was filled Saturday morn-
ing with fine gentlemen and ladies, Jews and Chris-
tians, the sons and daughters of the first families;
even a colonel and his granddaughters sang in the
choir. There was an air of aristocracy prevalent;
all, too, were Americans to the core. And here was
I, poor wretch, the only German in the whole assem-
bly. I, who was not yet four years in the country,
was to give satisfaction as a speaker to these people!
The more I perceived that the eyes of all were fixed
on me, the more terrified I grew, particularly because
I was conscious of all my weaknesses, having just
heard so many orators in Washington. If I could
have retreated with honor, I would have done so very
quickly. If I should be attacked by nose-bleed, cough-
ing, asthma, or something else of that kind, thought
I, the matter would be only postponed. Therefore
be brave; the world belongs to him who dares. It
must be done; therefore let it be done quickly. I
would in all likelihood have hesitated long, had not
Poznanski had the splendid idea of introducing me
in a well-memorized speech. When I heard him
REM.INIscENCES I 45
speak, the old feeling of pride and the consciousness
of power reawoke in me. I was myself again, and
looked at the public with the self-conscious feeling,
“I am your teacher and master; I speak and you
listen.” This indeed took place. I spoke, and the
congregation listened attentively. The sermon ap-
peared in the Occident.
At the close of the service congratulations, com-
pliments, invitations, were heaped upon me. The
ladies—yes, the many beautiful ladies—showered po-
lite speeches upon me. There was a grand dinner at
the house of the parnass. After that I was surrounded
by a circle of ladies in the drawing-room, who em-
ployed all manner of feminine wiles to attract
my attention. It was as though we were in
paradise. I grew solicitous for the little common
sense that was still mine. A Jewish editor entered
the drawing-room in the nick of time, and said that
he had just come from the Orthodox synagogue, that
Dr. Raphall had inveighed against my sermon, and
had completely demolished the reform movement.
At this moment the real reason for my coming to
Charleston occurred to me. “Will Dr. Raphall pub-
lish his address P” I asked the editor. “No, he re-
fused distinctly to do so,” answered he ; “but I jotted
down the contents of his address.” The parnass gave
me a hint. I excused myself, and stepped into the ad-
joining room with him. The editor followed, and
read the address to us. The ball was now set roll-
ing. We preached and inveighed against one an-
other. One or the other of us spoke in public nearly
every day, in order to weaken the arguments of his
IC)
I 46 IsAAC M. WISE
opponent, and we each had large audiences. The
affair aroused quite a sensation, so that even a num-
ber of Christians of ability were drawn into and par-
ticipated actively in it. We were both invited to
spend the evening of Purim in the house of a promi-
nent patrician. We became acquainted, and even
intimate. Dr. Raphall said to me at a late hour, in
a cordial and friendly tone of voice: “You are young,
you have a great future before you; but you have
ranged yourself on the wrong side, for reform has
no future in America. If you retrace your steps, you
will be able to render Judaism great service; but
from your present standpoint you will undermine
and destroy it and yourself.”
“I stand where my convictions place me,” I an-
swered. “Any other standpoint is simply out of the
question as far as I am concerned. But, Doctor, God
willing, we will see within ten or twenty years what
will be left in America of Jewish orthodoxy.”
I went home, wrote Raphall’s words in my diary,
and pondered upon them. “Perhaps the old man is
right,” I soliloquized; “the condition of American
Judaism is precisely what he claims. Have I the
power to destroy this antiquated, ingrained, deep-
rooted conception, and substitute something better
for it? Am I not entirely alone and solitary; alone
in the presence of this colossus’ Am I called, am
I competent to carry the fight to a successful out-
come?” I could not sleep that night. On the one
hand, my conscience troubled me. Why shall I dis-
turb the people in their religious convictions? On
the other hand, the impulse to progress left me no
REM.INIscENCES I 47
peace. Here I thought of Seward. He, too, stands
alone, thought I. One must take up the fight and
stand alone; the others will follow. In this manner
I passed the night in torment, until finally Poznanski
came early in the morning and asked the burning
question, “Can you read Greek and Latin P” I
thought he had gone daft, and was about to break
forth into objurgations, when the thought occurred
to me that we were in Charleston, and hence it was
incumbent upon me to be particularly polite. When
he noticed my astonishment, he explained the reason
of his question. He said that he intended to resign
his position, and the congregation had resolved to
appoint a preacher of classical attainments. He knew
also that I would be elected unanimously, and only
desired to be able to inform the Board of Trustees
that I had enjoyed a classical education. “I read
neither Greek nor Latin,” was all the answer he could
elicit from me. “But have you no testimonials; they
would do just as well,” he continued. “I have burnt
all such trash,” was my reply. He continued so
insistently that I lost all patience. Poznanski was
more sensible than I; he did not grow angry with
me, and the battle between Raphall and myself con-
tinued merrily. A Christian lawyer who had followed
the controversy closely, gave the following opinion:
“Raphall expresses himself beautifully; Wise has the
power of conviction.” This was the general verdict.
But the controversy was to have a lamentable end-
ing. Raphall and Poznanski had determined to hold
a public debate, in which the one was to try to con-
vince the other. This was decided upon before my
I 48 ISAAC M. WISE
arrival in Charleston. This was a foolish and pur-
poseless procedure; but it had been resolved upon,
time and place had been fixed, the public was on the
qui vive, and the comedy had to be enacted. The
doughty champions appeared on the appointed day.
A long table stood in the upper part of the hall. On
it lay the folios to be used in the fray. Dr. Raphall,
a rotund little man with a black velvet skullcap on
his head, sat at the head of the table, and next to him
Mr. Poznanski in full dress, stiff, cold, and self-satis-
fied. The chagan and the officers of the Orthodox
congregation sat at Raphall's side, while the Officers
of the reform congregation, with myself at the head,
sat at Poznanski's side. The house was crowded with
the adherents of both parties. I had gone thither
with the firm resolution not to laugh, happen what
would, although the whole affair seemed to me most
laughable and ridiculous. During the course of the
debate I wrote a German poem, which I refrained
from publishing because I did not wish to encroach
on Heine's preserves. Poznanski had read the pro-
ceedings of the rabbinical conferences, and the writ-
ings of Jost, Geiger, Zunz, Holdheim, Solomon, Kley,
and Mannheimer; besides, he still retained some Tal-
mudical reminiscences from his early youth. Rap-
hall ignored the German literature, and referred
exclusively to the rabbinical codex of Maimonides.
Poznanski cited Albo. But beyond this there was
no reference to literature. When I noticed that
Raphall had dog's-eared his Rambam in order to find
his citations readily, T opined that he was not par-
ticularly au fait with the contents, and when he began
REM.INISCENCES I 49
to murder Talmudical passages, I began to grow
angry; but I held my peace. Two persons who knew
the rabbinical literature only from secondary sources
were debating dogmatic questions. No principle of
procedure was established; no judges had been ap-
pointed. The debate was a kind of pilpul in a new
form, but without basis. No especial acumen was
displayed. Raphall was being worsted, for Poznanski
was a skilled dialectician, and remained calm; while
Raphall grew excited, and declaimed violently.
Finally Raphall grew angry, and glowed with holy
zeal. Instead of arguing, he began to catechise.
He asked the public, and finally myself personally:
“Do you believe in the personal Messiah? Do you
believe in the bodily resurrection?” I have never
refused to answer a direct question; therefore I an-
Swered Raphall’s question with a loud and decisive
No! This ended the drama. Raphall seized his
books, rushed angrily out of the hall, followed by his
whole party. He had apparently given up the fight.
The reform party was satisfied with the result; the
whole affair appeared ridiculous to me. Raphall de-
parted at the end of that week. I preached on the
following Sabbath, and left in the evening for New
York by steamer, for I wished to take an ocean trip.
I left Charleston in perfect health, thoroughly
Americanized, and fully convinced that I was an Eng-
lish orator who could please and satisfy a cultured
audience. I had gained a large circle of new friends,
among whom were men and women of considerable
influence. I felt exalted, vivacious, and energetic. I
was ready to engage in new struggles, and looked
I 5o Isa AC M. WISE
hopefully towards the future. The old optimism
again took possession of me, and the world was all
rose-colored. How happy are we mortals who know
not what the future has in store for us! If I had had
the least inkling of what the near future was to bring
forth, I would not have enjoyed the present hour so
fully. In my ignorance I was thoroughly happy
while on the ocean, and painted the future as I wished
it to be.
Upon my arrival at New York I hastened home
to my dear ones, and was received with open arms,
especially because I had brought ſor my wife, as a
present, material for a new silk dress, and that, too,
of the latest pattern. The women persisted in the
foolish declaration that I had suddenly become hand-
some and amiable, and demanded my photograph.
My wife wanted to wed me over again, although I
told her that it was dangerous to trust too much.*
My school-children wanted to crown me with a gar-
land; but the flowers were not in bloom, and I had to
rest content with their blooming, glowing faces. My
friends in the library gave me a banquet, and took
advantage of the opportunity to consume oysters,
champagne, and bananas in as great quantities as
possible decently. But this could not last. A few
days later I received the following telegram from
Charleston: “You have been elected unanimously
rabbi of our congregation at a salary of one thousand
dollars, with furnished home, etc.” I was much taken
* The clever play on the word ‘‘trauen,” which means both “to
wed ” and “to trust,” can not be reproduced in the English trans-
lation.—[ED.
REM.INIscENces I 5 I
with Charleston. I liked the congregation, with its
reforms and its firm principles. The city and its in-
habitants, so refined and cultured, pleased me, as
well as the not inconsiderable library. The call was
most welcome to me, especially as I recognized that
all congregational bickerings would now be ended,
and that I would be able to live in peace among peo-
ple of similar convictions and of the same grade of
culture. The position was very prominent and hon-
orable. I described all this vividly to my wife, who
without further ado gave her consent. I tele-
graphed my acceptance to Charleston, and upon re-
ceiving the official notification with the accompanying
papers a few days later, I handed in my resignation
to the Board of Trustees of the Bethel congregation.
This was the signal for a new outbreak. My friends
held that I had done right, and declared that I was
under no obligations to the congregation after the
treatment I had received at its hands. But my op-
ponents re-enacted the old comedy. Meetings were
held, resolutions were passed, committees of men,
committees of women, committees of children, were
sent to me, golden promises were made; but I in-
sisted on my resignation, and the position was ad-
vertised. Candidates came and preached, but how P
I was pestered by new deputations after every trial
sermon, until finally my friends also tried to persuade
me to remain. Only one, Jacob Cohn, advised me to
leave; for said he, “No lasting peace can be con-
cluded with these people; the old disputes will break
out again in a few weeks.” The others declared, “If
I 52 ISAAC M. WISE
you leave Albany, Judaism and reform will receive a
death-blow, for your friends will take no more in-
terest in the congregation nor in Judaism.” I was
overwhelmed with the bitterest reproaches. Finally
they told my wife that the yellow-fever raged in
Charleston very frequently, and that the city was very
unhealthy. My wife and my relations were now also
arrayed against me. I stood alone in my resolution
to go, and had to relinquish it. I finally acquiesced
in the folly and the wrong of remaining, and per-
mitted myself to be re-elected in Albany for three
years. The joy was great; feasts of reconciliation
were celebrated; I was overwhelmed with costly gifts;
the heavens were without a cloud. I could, however,
not rejoice, because I knew that I had acted fool-
ishly and wrongly. In this mood I wrote the letter
of declination to Charleston. This was received in
ill part there; but the step was irrevocable. At the
same time Moses Schloss removed from Albany to
St. Louis with his family. I thus lost a strong sup-
porter. Louis Spanier was elected parnass during
the confusion. He later became my bitterest op-
ponent.
Shortly after my re-election in Albany the follow-
ing bull of excommunication, signed by Dr. Raphall
and the officers of the orthodox congregation of
Charleston, appeared in the columns of the Occident:
“Since Wise declared publicly and decidedly in
Charleston that he does not believe in the personal
Messiah nor in the bodily resurrection, he is no
longer fit to act as rabbi or religious teacher of a
REM.INIscENCES I 53
Jewish congregation, and hence he should be re-
moved from his post in Albany as soon as possible.”
At first I laughed at the presumptuous, mediaeval,
nonsensical document, since my beliefs were no secret
in Albany, nor had it ever occurred to me to conceal
them. But I was soon to learn otherwise. Dr.
Raphall had in the meantime been elected rabbi in
New York, and was by all odds the most influential
and prominent man on the orthodox side. His word
carried much more weight than I had any idea of at
the start. Besides, there had appeared in New York
for some time past a Jewish weekly, called The
Asmonean. The publisher was an English orthodox
Jew, who, though not an ignoramus, yet knew little
or nothing about Judaism, and was glad to receive
contributions for his paper from any one. My op-
ponents, under Raphall’s leadership, obtained posses-
sion of this organ, and abused me week after week in
the most Outrageous manner. Happily the paper was
not widely read, and the writers were very ignorant
and unskilled. Such was my plight. There was not
one person in America who wrote a line in my favor
or in the cause of reform, however much noise the
Opponents made, and however much they denounced
the reform movement. The orthodox alone had the
public ear. I noted with astonishment the laziness
and the cowardice of loud-mouthed talkers, who had
not the courage to appear in public, although they
coquetted with reform at home and pretended to be
on the side of progress. I wrote to Leeser; but he
gave me to understand that articles against Raphall,
I 54 ISAAC M. WISE
such as I would have to write, would jeopardize the
very existence of his magazine. He struck out
half of my articles, so that I was forced to stop writ-
ing for him, and I would not write for the Asmonean.
I was compelled to quit the field temporarily; but I
would have found other ways and means to appear
before the public had not the fight broken out in
Albany with renewed violence.
VIII
HE man who had been chosen president at the
last election, Louis Spanier, had been one of
my friends for years. He had been a member of the
other congregation, but had joined the Bethel con-
gregation because of his sympathy with the reforms
that had been adopted. We visited one another fre-
quently, and were on very good terms. He was a
man of culture and imposing presence, aristocratic,
dignified, precise, and cautious. He held little inter-
course with Jews, and visited no one except myself.
He was a native of Hanover. His wife was the sister
of the district rabbi, Dr. Mayer, of that country.
This man, who had himself urged that I remain in
Albany, became my opponent all at once, without
my being able to discover the reasons for his sudden
change of heart. He took sides not only against me
(this I might have forgiven him readily), but against
the cause of reform. He entered into close alliance
with all my enemies, contact with whom he formerly
avoided, and combined all opposing elements into an
anti-reform party, which purposed to revoke all re-
forms and reintroduce the old state of affairs with all
its disorders. Naturally all this was done with the
object of vexing me. It is difficult to say what turned
this man against me so suddenly. It is however quite
certain that Raphall’s bull of excommunication and
I55
I 56 Isa Ac M. WISE
his defamatory articles that followed in its wake were
given as the Ostensible reasons. The flame was
fanned, not alone by the Orthodox party in New York,
but also in Charleston, where Spanier had a brother-
in-law who had married into a rich and fanatical
family. The movement against me was encouraged
with holy zeal from various quarters. Its object was,
of course, my removal from office. Louis Spanier
seems to have been merely the tool of a general con-
spiracy of the Orthodox leaders against me, and his
partisans in Albany were blinded followers who were
to render a dangerous opponent of orthodoxy harm-
less. The secret springs of that agitation have never
been brought to light.
Immediately after the confirmation on Shabuoth,
Spanier gave expression to his opposition to the doc-
trines confessed by the confirmees. I was surprised
at this; but I thought that, parnassim fashion, he
wanted to air his importance, and regarded the mat-
ter with indifference. Shortly after this I heard that
our chagan visited the saloons, drank and played
cards as formerly, although he had promised not to
do so any more, and had been appointed as an assist-
ant teacher in my school on the strength of that
promise. I knew that the chagan was weak, and
that he would never have taken this step, which might
have cost him his position, except at the instigation of
some one in power. I recognized at once that the ob-
ject was to pick a quarrel with me through the chagan.
But since I did not wish any annoyance, I informed the
parnass that the chagan had broken his promise; hence
REM.INIscENCES I 57
was not fit, according to Jewish regulations, to be
either chagan or shochet until he mended his ways. I
also remarked that I had no desire, as far as I was
concerned, to refer to the authority of the rabbinical
code, nor to be guided strictly by it in this case, al-
though the chagan would have to give up frequenting
saloons on account of his family, if for no other
reason. Spanier now had me show him the para-
graphs of the code in question, reprimanded the
chagan mildly, and things remained in statu quo. On
the following Sabbath, when I came to the synagogue,
I found that my official regalia had disappeared, and
no one knew what had become of it. I preached in
citizen clothes, and everything passed off smoothly.
My friends had a new gown made for me during the
following week, but were much incensed at the scurvy
trick that had been played on me. I understood it,
but pretended not to, and insisted that the articles had
been stolen. Thus far all the differences remained
entre mous. But it was not long before there was a
public rupture.
There was an established rule to the effect that no
member of the Board should in any way desecrate
the Sabbath. One of them opened his store one Sab-
bath-day. I went to him, explained to him how diffi-
cult it was to reintroduce the observance of the
Sabbath in this country, and begged him not to set
a bad example. He would not listen to me. I re-
quested him to resign his office as a member of the
Board if he did not intend to observe the Sabbath.
He answered me curtly. Since there was some ex-
I 58 Is AAC M. WISE
pectation that I would ventilate the matter in the
pulpit, the pious orthodox element proceeded in the
following ridiculous fashion:
During the services on Sabbath morning the par-
mass sent the sexton to me with the message ex-officio,
“The parnass serves notice on you not to preach to-
day.” I understood the declaration of war and the
arbitrary assumption of power, and retorted briefly,
“I shall preach to-day.” I stepped to the pulpit at
the regular time as the choir finished its hymn. The
parnass now arose in front of me, and said threaten-
ingly, “I tell you, you shall not preach to-day.” I
paid no attention to him, and began to speak in a loud
voice, which thoroughly drowned the voice of the
parnass, so that the people did not know why he was
standing in front of me. He repeated his threat. I
paid no attention to it, and continued to speak quietly.
The parnass and a few of his adherents left the syna-
gogue; but their action caused no disturbance. The
public learned what had taken place only after the
service was over. A petition addressed to Spanier,
calling on him to resign, had no effect. A charge of
disturbing divine service was brought against him
in the police court. I was opposed to this. He was
dismissed with a slight reprimand. He was given to
understand, however, that, according to the laws of
the State of New York, the divine service and the
sermon were the concern of the preacher, and lay
without the province of any congregational officer.
The gage of battle had thus been publicly thrown, and
both sides took it up. This action of the president
against me was most disgraceful treachery, and in-
REM.INISCENces I 59
volved a complete betrayal of principle, for the cause
of it all lay in my request to a member of the Board
to observe the Sabbath, or else resign his office.
The next step in the war consisted in the refusal
to pay my salary. Likewise the parents opposed to
me would not pay the tuition fees, in spite of the fact
that their children continued to attend my school.
This made but little difference to me, for my credit
was good and my wants were few. Matters, however,
were going from bad to worse; for the opposing
parties were growing more and more embittered, and
peace negotiations were out of the question. The
contest had gotten beyond me, and I could do only
one of two things to avoid it, either give up my
projects for reform or resign, neither of which my
friends would permit. I was quite powerless, and
altogether in the hands of my friends.
I did not neglect my official duties nor my studies
for one moment while the storm was playing about
my head. In addition to this, I was secretary of the
Hungarian Society, which we had organized for the
purpose of supporting fugitive Hungarians who ar-
rived on these shores in great numbers at that time.
Seward, Jr. (Frederick), was president; Thomas B.
Marrow, treasurer; and I, secretary; i. e., we three
were the society; others were permitted to pay, at-
tend the public meetings, and make great speeches.
Neither Seward nor Marrow had the time to attend
to the administration of the affairs of the organiza-
tion; therefore I was the Hungarian Society, inas-
much as I had possession of the money, the books,
the seal, the executive power, and the president. We
I 6o ISAAC M. WISE
had the disposition of much money and many free
railroad tickets; hence there was no lack of appli-
cants. All strangers were Hungarian patriots, al-
though not one in ten spoke Hungarian. Many noble
Poles who had not died for Hungary came also. I
was not very strict, gave to almost every one, and
fitted out many young men as peddlers, who there-
upon remained in the district. It must be observed
that these young people knew no one besides myself,
except two or three merchants from whom they
bought goods, and their landlord. All other people
in Albany were strangers to them. These young men,
who became the singers in the choir, and members
of the literary society, were my bodyguard, the public
press. Of Albany my palladium, so that I was safe
from public insults and attacks; but any other out-
rage was possible, owing to the heated fanaticism
and blind partisanship.
My opponents were desirous of keeping within
the law. They wanted to overthrow me by 1egal
means. My resignation would not have satisfied
them under existing circumstances. I must be van-
quished and made harmless for all future time. A
post-office official, who was well informed about the
whole state of affairs, paid especial attention to Louis
Spanier's mail. He noticed that in addition to his
usual letters he received a surprisingly large number
from New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Richmond,
and Charleston, the seat of genuine Orthodoxy; also
a not inconsiderable number from London and Han-
over. I saw the addresses, and recognized the hand-
writing and the seal in a number of instances, so that
REM.INIscENCES 161
the gist of the matter became clear to me. I was
therefore somewhat prepared for coming events.
Shortly after the events narrated above, written
charges were preferred against me by a number of
members, as follows:
I. That I had written on New-Year's eve in a
lodge-room.
2. That I had ridiculed publicly the women's ritual
bath.
3. That I preached a God of reason, while the
congregation believed in the God of Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob.
The chagan was the secretary of the congregation.
He was ordered by the parnass to send me a copy of
these charges with the seal of the congregation, ac-
companied with the demand that I defend myself.
He fulfilled this duty in a revolting manner. He
wrote to me in the old, rough, and despotic official
style. In the evening I examined the books of the
lodge which I had kept, and found that no meeting
had taken place on New-Year's eve; hence charge
number one was a lie. I knew very well that I never
mocked women, that I always treated them with
dignity and courtesy, and that I certainly never made
sport of religious customs; hence charge number two
must also be false. I could not understand charge
number three. I did not know what was meant by
it. I put the matter aside till the following
morning, considered it carefully, and came to the
conclusion that my opponents merely wanted an
excuse to pick a quarrel with me, and I re-
solved that they should neither frighten nor
II
162 IsAAC M. Wise
intimidate me. The following morning I paid the
chaean what was due him, and dismissed him from
my school. I wrote on the back of the bill of charges:
“Points one and two are false. I do not understand
the third. I shall not defend myself, and herewith
return the document. Who hath appointed thee
prince and judge?” and I sent the papers back to the
parnass.
The presiding officer called a meeting of the Board
at once. All the members appeared at the meeting.
There were five. The charges, together with my an-
swer, were laid before them. The parnass demanded
satisfaction for the insult, and insisted that I be sus-
pended from office until the matter be settled. After
a stormy debate a vote was taken, with the result
that only one member sided with the parnass, while
three voted against him; viz., the vice-president,
Joseph Sporterg, Maier Freund, and Maier Stern.
Now Sporterg was as good a tactician as Spanier.
He saw his advantage immediately, and moved that
the charges be not sustained nor entered upon the
minutes. This was carried by three votes to two,
and the matter was settled. Louis Spanier would
have probably resigned at the time, for he had suf-
fered a signal defeat, had it not been for two inci-
dents. Some young people hired a cart with a mule,
and placed it in front of the synagogue for the use of
the president. Upon his coming out of the meet-
ing, the driver invited him to take a seat in the cart.
The next thing that occurred was that a new bull of
excommunication appeared in the Asmonean on the
following Friday. I was accused in this of being
REM.INIscENCES 163
a deist, and my deposition was again insisted upon.
I knew now what they meant by the God of reason,
and knew further by whom the agitation against me
was inspired. Spanier was incensed and bigoted; he
was in the service of those who used him as a tool;
he could not resign without betraying his allies.
My opponents now resorted to vulgar tittle-tattle.
This angered my friends and my wife; but only
amused me, because my whole life lay before the pub-
lic like an open book. The summer of 1850 passed
without bringing about any improvement in the state
of affairs. Finally all the peddlers came home for
the holidays. I knew that the troubles would now be
repeated; that there would be contention, strife, and
perhaps worse. A great fair happened to be held in
the city during the week before New-Year. Busi-
ness was good, and no one wished to leave his place
of business. Spanier made use of the opportunity.
Although the congregational meeting was always
held after New-Year and at night, he called the meet-
ing two days before New-Year and by day, in order
that the business men could not attend it. And al-
though the law required that the special business to
be brought before the meeting should be indicated in
the notices, he neglected to do this. The people at-
tended the meeting nevertheless, because they divined
trouble. Instead of proceeding with the regular busi-
ness, the parnass laid the charges which had been
brought against me, but had been dismissed by the
Board, before the meeting. The debate on the sub-
ject lasted from three o’clock in the afternoon till
eleven o’clock at night. Neither side would give in,
I64 Isaac M. WISE
and the parnass refused persistently to put the motion
for adjournment. Since this proceeding was clearly
illegal, the vice-president, Joseph Sporterg, arose at
eleven o’clock at night, and declared that it was his
duty to vindicate the law, and he put the motion to
adjourn. A vote was taken, and Sporterg decided
that the motion was carried. He declared the meet-
ing adjourned, and left with his friends. After they
had gone, Spanier declared that the meeting was not
adjourned, and proceeded to business. First, our poor,
sick, and efficient sexton was discharged, because he
was one of our party; then new officers were elected;
then it was resolved that the charges against me
were sustained, that I was deposed from office from
that hour, and that the back-salary due me should not
be paid. The orthodox party had thus won a com-
plete victory, and I was defeated. The following
morning I received from the secretary a copy of the
proceedings in the same gruff official style as before,
although my contract had still three years to run.
All this happened five months after these same people
had retained me by force in Albany, and had pre-
vented me from going to Charleston.
My friends held a meeting the following evening,
and resolved unanimously that they would not sanc-
tion these acts of violence. They determined to be
guided by the law of the land. The case was referred
to the Attorney-General, and he decided that I must
appear in the synagogue at the hour of service in my
official garb ; that I must try to perform my official
duties, and if any violence should be attempted, I
could withdraw quickly, and either call on the police
REM.INISCENCES I 65
for aid, or sue the congregation for the whole salary
as called for by the contract. If, however, I did not
appear at the time of service, the contract was ab-
rogated.
At first I did not wish to put the matter to a test,
but my friends insisted that the law must be satis-
fied. Consequently I went to the synagogue on
New-Year's morning, appeared in my official garb,
but found one of Spanier's creatures, who had been
the cause of the altercation about the Sabbath, sit-
ting in my chair. I took another seat. Excitement
ruled the hour. Everything was quiet as the grave.
Finally the choir sings Sulzer's great Em Komokho.
At the conclusion of the song I step before the
ark in order to take out the scrolls of the law as
usual, and to offer prayer. Spanier steps in my way,
and, without saying a word, smites me with his fist
so that my cap falls from my head. This was the
terrible signal for an uproar the like of which I have
never experienced. The people acted like furies.
It was as though the synagogue had suddenly burst
forth into a flaming conflagration. The Poles and
Hungarians, who thought only of me, struck out like
wild men. The young people jumped down from the
choir-gallery to protect me, and had to fight their way
through the surging crowd. Within two minutes the
whole assembly was a struggling mass. The sheriff
and his posse, who were summoned, were belabored
and forced out until finally the whole assembly
surged out of the house into Herkimer Street.
“Louis Spanier,” said I to him, “there is the law
to which I can appeal.” “I have a hundred thou-
I 66 Isa AC M. WISE
sand dollars more than you. I do not fear the law.
I will ruin you.” I finally reached home, bowed
with pain and inexpressible grief. The constable
came and arrested me as the ringleader of a rebellious
mob at a public service. Naturally, this had all been
arranged beforehand; for this constable who ar-
rested me was the gruffest and roughest in the city.
He seized me by my coat, and thus led me to the
police-station through the streets of Albany. Upon
our arrival there, the whole rabble was present in
order to feast their eyes on the sight of their rabbi
appearing before court on New-Year's Day; but their
hopes were disappointed, for the police judge went
into an adjoining room and received me there. My
friends had informed him of what had taken place,
and he dismissed me on my word of honor. Three
months later the constable died of a stroke of par-
alysis, one day after his discharge.
Who can describe that terrible day? Not I. It
was agonizing, hellish torture. This victory of or-
thodoxy proved its grave wherein it was buried.
Nothing was done by our side on the holiday,
although several of our friends were arrested and
released on bail. We held New-Year’s services at
my house on the following day. The whole choir
was present and was stationed in the front hall. The
remainder of the congregation was in the two par-
lors. (The synagogue had been closed by the sheriff.)
The two rooms were crowded. We had a number
of members who were able to read the prayers. The
service was conducted in an excellent manner. I
preached comfort and consolation, and bade the wor-
REM.INIscENces 167
shipers confide in the holy cause of Israel. There
was not one dry eye. I alone did not weep, but
controlled my feelings. No one could gaze into my
heart. Had this occurred a year earlier, it would
have cost my life; but I determined now that no
man, no event, no turn of fate should ever again
conquer me, and thus I was enabled to endure this
blow. In the evening I had to enact the rôle of hero
within my home circle, in order to quiet my wife,
who wept constantly. It was only when I was at
last alone that I began to feel the strain, and I lay
all night on the sofa, burning with fever, But when
the bright light of the morning dawned and seemed
to send me greeting through the window, I felt well
again. The battle had been fought, and I was pre-
pared to enter upon a new path of life.
On the morning after our New-Year's day the
children came to school so early that I had to go
to the schoolhouse at eight o'clock. Upon my en-
trance, the children flocked about me in the large
room. One boy addressed an improvised speech to
me, and the children wept so bitterly that I was
unable to soothe them for a long time. When I
succeeded in this at last, I announced a vacation of
two weeks, and kissed them all good-bye. I went
hereupon to the library in order to take counsel
with some friends. General Townsend met me on
the way. Everybody in Albany knew this eccentric
person. He was a stout man, always wore the same
light-colored garments, always carried an umbrella
under his arm, took a walk every day at the same
hour through the same streets, never spoke a word
I68 - IsAAC M. WISE
to any one on the street, and, after walking about
two miles, always went to the post-office, where he
asked for his letters and newspapers, and then pro-
ceeded homewards. I met this general on the street,
and he addressed me: “Defeated, defeated, quite so—
no gentlemen. Whither?” “I am going to the
library.” “No, no; you are going with me. About
face, march 1” ->
Since I knew the eccentric fellow very well, and
his house stood diagonally opposite the library, I
went with him. Without saying a word, he took
me home, conducted me into his study, and began
to tell me how he was constantly swindled by his
agent who managed his considerable fortune, and
then offered me the position at a not insignificant
salary. He asked nothing more than that I should
keep watch over his financial interests. I left him
after promising to consider the matter; but I felt
at once that I would not consent to be the servant
of this man’s money, although the offer had a bene-
ficial effect upon me under the circumstances.
As I entered the State library, my friends pounced
upon me, and told me some caustic truths. “This
was necessary,” said Chief-Justice Wood. “Ordinary
insults could not bring you to reason.” “I am per-
fectly reasonable. Common sense has been forced
upon me. But what am I to do with it, now that
I possess it?” “We will go at once to the court-
house. You will announce your intention of taking
the legal examination. To-morrow you will be ex-
amined; I will vouch for it; the day after to-mor-
row you will be admitted to the bar, and as soon as
REM.INIscENCES 169
I can find a suitable office, you shall be my partner.
We will do a fine business. I am an old jurist, you
are a splendid speaker; nothing further is necessary.”
With these words he took my arm, led me out of
the room, followed by the whole literary clique of
the library. Wood led me triumphantly to the court-
house, up the stairs into a side chamber, and there
he left us. A few minutes later, Judges Harris and
Parker came into the room, greeted me in the most
cordial manner, and shook me by the hand so heart-
ily that I felt cheerful and happy indeed. Parker
declared openly: “Your examination will be only
pro forma. It makes little difference what you have
read or what you have not read. My colleagues
and I know that you are a man of learning. More
is unnecessary. You are well able to read what you
require.” Harris wished to conduct the examination
that very evening. Wood declined this because he
wished to invite Amos Dean, who was out of the
city. A host of lawyers surrounded me within a few
minutes, and greeted me heartily as a colleague. It
will be understood, as a matter of course, that we
all had to go to the French restaurant after these
exertions to take lunch and drain the contents of
a number of glasses. We were about twenty. Every-
thing passed off well, and I went home in cheerful
mood.
My wife, who was still sad and tearful (it is a well-
known fact that when women once begin to weep,
it is some time before they cease) was amazed to
see me joke, laugh, kiss the children, and hum a
tune quite as usual. “Has the prophet Elijah met
17o ISAAC M. WISE
you anywhere?” she asked, somewhat testily.
“Such messengers are not needed in a free country,”
said I. “Freedom is Elijah and the Messiah.” I told
her what I had done that forenoon. She seemed to
agree perfectly with me, and was so pleased with
my energetic proceeding that she likewise became
cheerful and happy. She made love to me, and I
listened. She said that she had never doubted my
energy, and had felt sure yesterday that I would
not succumb. I was flattered. Her concluding
words were that she had ever trusted in God, and
I felt uplifted.
All went well until I found myself alone in my
study in the afternoon. There stood the books, the
silent witnesses of my plans, that seemed to look at
me warningly. They had a magic effect upon my
inflammable fantasy, and I felt wondrously moved.
The cold, calculating intellect receded ever further
into the dark background, and the imagination ex-
erted its power. It was as though the books spoke
to me: “Hold, faithless one ! Thou art lured into
by-paths. Hast thou not suffered, hungered, waked,
struggled with all untoward circumstances in order
to serve the faith of thy fathers? Where are thy
resolutions, thy holy vows that God alone heard?
Where is thy zeal, thy enthusiasm, thy love for the
heritage of Israel? Was all that merely stage-play?
Wilt thou leave thy post and betray the holy cause
to its blinded enemies?” Thus the voices sounded
within me until fantasy had me in its power com-
pletely. I jumped up from my chair and cried aloud:
“No, no l I shall not prove false to my holy mission'
REM.INIscENCE's 171
They shall not be put to shame through me who
hope for Thee; they shall not blush on my account
who seek Thee, O God of Israel!”
I spoke so loud that my wife, affrighted, rushed
into the room. “For God’s sake, what ails you?”
“Nothing, nothing at all. I have dreamed foolish
things.” “You look so pale; you are concealing
your spiritual struggles;” and her tears began to
flow. I summoned all my eloquence and persuasive-
ness to my aid to convince her that I had fallen asleep,
had had a horrible dream, and had awakened with
a loud cry. The dear child believed me, and wanted
to know what the dream was. “Dreams come from
the belly,” said I, in order to change her mood by
means of a rather profane forcible expression; “I
dreamed foolish nonsense. You know that dreams
never disturb me.” In short, I succeeded in calm-
ing her, and in an hour T was alone again. Reason
again had the upper hand, and I said to myself:
“You are the father of a family. It is your duty
to provide for those dependent on you. You have
no prospects in Judaism ; for you are standing all
alone on the platform of the future. The orthodox
hate you, and the reformers have no love for you.
In the law, on the other hand, a lucrative field lies
stretched before you, to say nothing of a great po-
litical career. Wherefore shall I waste the talents
that God has given me on blind, ungrateful people,
when I can devote them to the weal of my family
and my country.” I doubted and hesitated, without
being able to come to any conclusion, and night had
fallen when my wife came to call me to supper. She
172 IsAAC M. WISE
appeared perfectly satisfied and cheerful, and I was
glad of it. I chatted about Heine's poems, which
we had just begun to read, took my little daughter
On my lap, played, joked, laughed, as though nothing
unusual had taken place. But the eventful day was
not to close in this way. Between eight and nine
o'clock a friend appeared, and asked me to accom-
pany him to the meeting, where a number of my
friends were gathered in consultation. I did so. We
reached the place of meeting after a short walk. I
found the most prominent members of the congrega-
tion, together with a large number of young men,
assembled. The vice-president, Joseph Sporterg,
was in the chair. An air of earnestness prevailed,
and a pause of intense quiet ensued upon my en-
trance. The presiding officer informed me that those
present could no longer remain members of the
Bethel congregation; that the meeting had resolved
unanimously to organize a new reform congregation
that I was to name (I called it Anshe Emeth), on the
condition that I promised my co-operation; that the
congregation wished to take steps at once to fur-
nish a temporary synagogue, buy ground for a cem-
etery, and build a new temple, or else buy a church
and remodel it for this purpose; that twenty-six
members of the congregation would undertake the
task of organizing the new congregation and reach-
ing some understanding with the Bethel congrega-
tion; that my position in the new congregation
should be according to my own wishes, and that all
litigation was to be avoided, with the exception of
bringing Louis Spanier to trial; for he would have
REM.INIscENCES 173
to be punished for his actions. Here, then, I stood
suddenly and unexpectedly at the parting of the ways.
Moved though I was by the devotion and fealty of
my friends, filled with admiration at the quick and
energetic action, the purposeful procedure, and the
conciliatory spirit, I yet hesitated and vacillated. I
did not reply at once. Thereupon a member present
arose (I believe it was Dr. Joseph Lewi) and ad-
dressed me: “We all recognize that this is a critical
moment for American Judaism, which must be either
thoroughly reformed or die. We recognize no less
clearly that you are the bearer of the new idea, which
will conquer or fall with you. We are ready to stand
by you to the end, and to sacrifice everything in our
power. If we endure, the orthodox party will soon
perceive that it gave itself the death-blow last Rosh
Hashanah. If we fail, Judaism will fall with us. As
for Louis Spanier, we can not do otherwise than
we have resolved; he must suffer the legal penalty;
for a shameful thing has been done in Israel.”
All my doubts dissolved like soap-bubbles. Al-
though I took much that was said with a grain of
salt, yet I could not do otherwise than express my
thanks to my enthusiastic friends for their faithful
adherence, and gave them the assurance that I would
work for the new congregation with all the enthu-
siasm of my soul. The Anshe Emeth congregation
was incorporated the next day, and I was fettered
anew to Judaism. My non-Jewish friends, to whom
I recounted the whole occurrence, were of different
opinions. Some considered it weakness on my part,
and others said it was a matter of conscience, and
I74 Isa Ac M. WISE
that being the case, little was to be said. Chief-
Iustice Wood said to me: “In your blind enthusiasm
you are cutting off a brilliant future among us. You
will regret it later, perhaps too late.” It was too
late. I refused to listen to my Mephistopheles.
A third-story room was procured. Benches
without backs were nailed together, chairs were se-
cured, two scrolls of the law were obtained, and
on the following Yom Kippur services were held in
the improvised place. The whole choir was present,
and Sulzer's compositions were successfully rendered.
The congregation was assembled in this uninviting
place. They sat on rough benches, and yet all were
present—women and girls, men and boys—not one
was missing. A spirit of devotion and exaltation
such as is rarely met with pervaded the assembly.
That day was one of the most touching of my whole
life. The room was crowded all day long. A new
spirit seemed to possess all. A band of courageous
and spirited champions of progressive Judaism,
possessed of an inexpressible enthusiasm, had arisen
out of the defeat which we had suffered. On that
Yom Kippur day I saw American Judaism arise Out
of the grave, to go forth to ever new triumphs; and
it has not deceived me in my expectations.”
*The following very interesting communication from the pen
of Mr. Isidor Lewi, of New York, may be properly inserted here as
a commentary on the exciting incidents which led to the formation
of the Anshe Emeth congregation :
“In connection with the story of Dr. Wise’s life at Albany, the
following may be of interest.
“When it became evident that the anti-Wise party would con-
tinue its opposition, and that the reform measures would not be
accepted by them, the Doctor's friends determined to form a new
congregation, and a meeting was held for that purpose in the house
REM.INIscENCES I75
occupied jointly by Dr. Wise and Dr. Lewi. A vacant loft in the
business district was rented, and there the first religious service
under the new régime was conducted. A few chairs and benches
constituted the furniture, and as a reading-desk a little toilet table
was used. This was donated for the purpose by the wife of one of
Dr. Wise’s stanchest friends, and was the chief ornament at the first
service in the ‘Razor-strop Schul,” the name applied to the place
by the opposition because the loft had been used shortly before as a
razor-strop factory.
“When Dr. Wise went to New York about fifteen years later to
dedicate the Temple Emanuel, he stopped on the way at Albany,
and in his room at Dr. Lewi's house he recognized the old table,
and was pleased that it had been preserved. In 1884 he was in
Albany again and asked if the table still existed, and when assured
that it was still in as good condition as when he saw it last, he said:
“Some day the part that it played will be forgotten—it should be
marked.’
“On his return to Cincinnati he wrote the following memoran-
dum, and sent it with the request that it be kept with the table:
“My Dear Friend Isidor: This table was used as a reading-desk
and pulpit in my home in Albany, N. Y., on Westerlo Street, for the
first reform service held by the then forming congregation Anshe
Emeth, the first reform congregation in Albany, and the fourth in
the United States. It was donated for the purpose by Mrs. Cole-
man, and was given on my departure from Albany to your dear
mother as a memento of the days of trial which we had seen
together under circumstances that shaped events which became of
great moment in directing the course of American Judaism.
“‘Yours very truly, ISAAC M. WISE.”
“Of the men who gathered at that service and helped to hold up
the hands of the young rabbi, none remain. The last to pass away
was Dr. Lewi, whose friendship for Dr. Wise began in the little
town in Bohemia, where Dr. Wise first officiated, and where his old-
est child—Mrs. Benjamin May, of Cincinnati-was the young phy-
sician’s first patient.” -
Another of Dr. Wise's Albany pupils, Mr. Simon M. Simpson,
writes as follows in reference to the above communication :
“Your correspondent is in error, as all of the former adherents of
Dr. Wise have not yet passed away.
“Mr. Joseph Beckel, still actively engaged in business in New
York City, was one of the founders of the Literary Society, and a
member of the choir so often spoken of in the “Reminiscences.’
Of women, there are still a number who were firm and devoted
friends of Dr. Wise in those days of long ago, and these still regale
their grand and great grandchildren with stories of Dr. Wise's
memorable career in Albany.”
IX
Y intimate friends feared lest these recent
events might endanger my health again. It
was therefore resolved to grant me a month's vaca-
tion, which was to be devoted to travel. It being
known that I never undertook a journey without
some definite object, I received the commission to
collect funds for the new reform congregation. I
was left entirely free as to whither I should go and
how I should spend my time. Shortly after the fall
holidays I bade good-bye to my dear ones, and went
to New York. I met Horace Greeley on the steamer,
who had me tell him the whole story, which he pub-
lished in the Tribune the next day. “But why do
you not answer all the accusations of your opponents
which they make publicly?” “Because I have no
organ,” answered I. “That need not embarrass you,”
he rejoined. “Write whatever you wish to have the
public know, and I will provide for its publication.”
I accepted the cordial offer, and said that I would
get to work as soon as I reached home.
I knew very well that it is a mistake to defer ex-
plaining one’s course until after the opponents have
prepossessed the public mind; but I was waiting to
see whether there was not one man in America who
would write a word in my behalf and for the cause
of reform. I was, however, again to experience the
176
ReMINIscENCES 177
bitter truth that I stood alone, completely alone.
Not one of those who were able to write had the
courage to espouse the cause of reform publicly.
I was received coldly everywhere in New York,
except at Lilienthal’s house. No one remembered
ever to have seen me; no one wished to have any-
thing to do with me. I was denounced as a mis-
chievous disturber of the peace. Merzbacher was
sick, and I did not wish to worry him. After spend-
ing one day in New York, I understood perfectly
well that I was discredited. In the evening I met
Moritz Lehmayer, who had been a dear friend of
mine for years. I informed him how I was mis-
judged in New York. “What difference can it make
to you? You do not wish to buy anything on credit,
do you?” Lehmayer asked. “No ; I wish no credit,
but I require money for the new reform congregation
in Albany in order that the good people there may
be encouraged.” “In that case, I bid you come to
me to-morrow; I will collect money,” said Lehmayer,
and he kept his promise. I called on him the next
day at his place of business, and found him ready
to go to work. After heading the subscription list
with the name of his firm, Lehmayer Bros., he went
with me for two days to all his friends and acquaint-
ances, and they had to sign. Even August Belmont
had to contribute ten dollars, a fact which angers
him possibly to this day. We collected a handsome
sum. I do not recall how much it was, but it was
enough to encourage my friends at home and my-
self. Since no one else in New York would take
any notice of me, I went to Philadelphia. I had a
I2
178 Isa AC M. WISE
number of friends and countrymen there, to whom
I introduced myself, since I did not want to go to
Isaac Leeser. One of them told Mr. Adler, the
parnass of the Rodef Shalom Congregation, that I
was in the city, at Hotel N. Mr. Adler came to visit
me a few hours thereafter. We were strangers to
one another; yet Adler asked me to preach in the
Rodef Shalom synagogue on Saturday.
“For whom P” I asked him. “Our congregation
is large,” said Adler, “the largest in Philadelphia.”
“But who will listen to me, the most discredited of
men?” “There are many who wish to hear you,”
Adler rejoined; “those who do not, need not come.”
A notice appeared in all the papers the following
morning to the effect that Rabbi Wise, of Albany,
would preach in the Rodef Shalom synagogue on
Saturday. The most holy orthodox party threatened
to devour Adler (so he informed me later), but he
would not be diverted from his course.
I repaired to the synagogue on Saturday at the
appointed time. It was large, but turned the wrong
way. The entrance was from the east, on both sides
of the ark, where the pulpit was ; and the people
were forced to turn around after reaching their seats.
There was a good chagan, Mr. Frankel, who still
officiates in that congregation. The service was or-
thodox, but decorous and reverent. The house
gradually filled until there was not an empty seat,
and even the broad aisles were crowded. The
women's gallery was packed, and Mr. Adler looked
at me triumphantly. Isaac Leeser and most of the
Portuguese who understood German were among
REM.INIscENces 179
the auditors. I was surprised at the multitude, but
I did not trust them. “What if these people have
come to raise a disturbance? What if only a hun-
dred have come with such a purpose? What is bit-
ter fanaticism not capable of P’ A feeling of hor-
ror took possession of me. I grew frightened until
finally my good genius, which never leaves me in
the lurch—viz., the proud feeling, “I am master,
and you are sitting at Gamaliel's feet”—came to my
rescue. “So be it!” thought I. “I will be moderate
and calm; but I shall suppress nothing.” Nor did I.
Basing on the life of Abraham, I preached on the
religion of humanity. I clothed my thoughts in the
most poetical language at my command, so that the
good people had no time to grow angry, because
they were too busily occupied with flowers and blos-
soms. They listened attentively a full hour, and at
the close of the service it seemed as though the hand-
shaking would never come to an end. Isaac Leeser
also shook hands with me, and the hoary heads fol-
lowed his example. Adler's victory was complete.
Taking my arm, he led me triumphantly to his house
to introduce me to his wife and daughters, who over-
whelmed me with attentions. “I am happy that I
was not mistaken in my man,” said Adler. He now
mentioned the names of those in the congregation
who advocated reform; viz., the Brothers Springer,
Kaufman, Klopfer, Goldmann, Stern, and others,
who organized the reform society several years later,
from which the temple congregation sprang. After
dinner I informed Mr. Adler of my desire to collect
money for my congregation in Albany, and we re-
18o Is AAC M. WISE
solved that I should deliver a lecture in the syna-
gogue two weeks later. He volunteered to have the
tickets printed on the morrow, and to have his friends
dispose of them. This was the first step in Philadel-
phia towards the formation of a reform congrega-
tion. This was accomplished five years later. I
interested myself in the matter, remained in Phila-
delphia several days longer, sought the acquaint-
anceship of the advocates of the reform movement,
and bade them be of good cheer. They were few
in number, but they were men of character, who
were moved by new thoughts.
There was at that time not one Jewish preacher
in Philadelphia. Leeser had lost his position. A
chagan officiated in the Polish congregation, who
expressed his surprise at Frankel’s conducting the
service if the m'shummad from Albany was to preach.
He called on me two weeks later to ask for a ticket
to my lecture, although his parnass was my friend
and countryman, Abeles. The Rodef Shalom con-
gregation had some time before elected a tramp
by the name of Kohn as their preacher. He fell in
love with a handsome Christian maiden, eloped with
her, and had himself baptized in order to marry
her. This aroused a bitter feeling of disgust at rab-
bis and preachers. New-fashioned orthodoxy was
the order of the day; no one dared even whisper
the word “reform.” Yet the spark lay glimmering
beneath the ashes. All that was necessary was a
leader, an advocate. The people learned now all
at once that reform had a spokesman, and they
REM.INISCENCES I 8 I
were on the alert. Therefore my appearance in
Philadelphia was of some significance.
I went to Baltimore on Wednesday. I was re-
ceived most cordially by the rabbis stationed there.
One of them was my friend and countryman, Dr.
Guenzberg, of blessed memory. The second was
the amiable Dr. Hochheimer, who was favorable
to reform; and the third, Dr. Braun, was the rabbi
of the Har Sinai congregation, and was naturally
well acquainted and in sympathy with my aims and
strivings. The members of the Har Sinai congre-
gation—Lauer, Putzel, Nachman, Hecht, and oth-
ers—treated me most cordially, so that I soon felt
at home, especially as Mrs. Schloss and her daugh-
ter treated me like a rich and childless uncle, from
whom a great legacy is expected. In the evening
the rabbis and the officers of the congregations
called on me, and we resolved that I should preach
Saturday morning in the Lloyd Street Synagogue,
in the afternoon in the Fell’s Point Synagogue, Sun-
day in the Har Sinai Temple, and deliver a lecture
Tuesday for the benefit of the Albany Congregation.
Steps toward carrying out these arrangements were
to be taken the next morning. After the gentlemen
had left me, I received a telegram from Philadelphia
from Adler, who bade me return to Philadelphia im-
mediately, since the people insisted on hearing me
again. I answered that I had entered upon engage-
ments that I had to fulfill, but that I would be in
Philadelphia the following Sabbath. I went sight-
seeing in Baltimore the following day. The city
182 Isaac M. WISE
and the people pleased me. There seemed to be
many Jews there, although everything was very
primitive. Women stood in front of the small shops
carrying children in their arms, or else knitting busily.
Young men invited passers-by to enter this or
that store to buy. M'gugoth, Teitgith, Talethim, Kosher
cheese, and Eretz Yisrael earth were on sale. On the
other hand, there were many prominent Jewish
wholesale houses on Baltimore Street, where every-
thing was conducted in an orderly and business-like
manner. The congregations had three handsome
synagogues and two schools, which were conducted
quite well; but the children sat with covered heads.
In short, everything appeared to be orthodox and
primitive, except in the Har Sinai congregation.
This was a radical reform congregation. It was small
and hated, but firm and persevering. Its members
were intelligent people.
I fulfilled my engagements on Saturday and Sun-
day, and the people did not fail to put in an appear-
ance in large numbers. I set forth the principles
of the reform movement quite clearly in three ad-
dresses, just as I had done in Philadelphia. I em-
bellished my thoughts with flowery expressions,
threw bombshells into the camp of orthodoxy, and
held aloft the standard of constructive reform.
Everybody seemed to be satisfied (for there was
something for everybody), except Rabbi Abraham
Reiss, of blessed memory, secretary of the Lloyd
Street Synagogue, who could not digest the new
themes. After I had left Baltimore, he requested
the permission to preach on the following Saturday,
REM.INIscENces 183
and said he wished to make Weiss black. Hoch-
heimer, however, refused to grant him the privilege,
and Wise remained white. There was a large num-
ber of young people in Baltimore at that time, and
it was upon them that the three addresses left the
deepest impression. Shortly thereafter they organ-
ized the reform congregation, at present the larg—
est in Baltimore, with its fine temple on Hanover
Street. All the Jewish young people of Baltimore
attended my lecture on Tuesday evening. A close
and friendly relationship has existed between young
Baltimore Jewry and myself since that time. I have
often come into contact with them, and am very
fond of them to this day.
After finishing my work in Baltimore, I made a
short detour to Washington. Many changes had
taken place since my last visit. President Taylor
had died in the meantime, and Millard Fillmore was
President, and Daniel Webster Secretary of State.
I wished only to pay my respects to these two dis-
tinguished dignitaries, since Congress was not in
session. Therefore, immediately upon my arrival,
at about eleven o’clock in the morning, I went to
the Treasury Building, in the east wing of which
the rooms of the Foreign Office were situated, and
there I found Daniel Webster. I had the idea that
a great deal of formality was necessary in seeking
the presence of the prime minister. Hence I took
a card from the table in the vestibule, and wrote,
“The undersigned begs for the favor of a brief audi-
ence,” and signed my name. The doorkeeper took
my card, and before I would have thought it pos-
184 Is AAC M. WISE
sible, Webster stood in front of me in the vestibule,
extended his hand, and asked: “My friend, where-
fore this formality? Step in. I am happy to see
you.” We entered his private office, at that time the
southeast corner of the building, the same room
which Seward later used for the same purpose. Two
strangers were there, to whom Webster introduced
me as his excellent friend. One of them was Sena-
tor Benjamin, the other Lieutenant Maury, the famous
scholar, whose book on the trade-winds aroused so
much attention. “Mr. Senator,” said Webster to
Benjamin, “my friend is of your race. I would have
said your co-religionist, but I do not know how
much or how little you believe; and in truth we four
are all co-religionists, since we are all Unitarians.”
Maury objected to this, since he had never belonged
to any Church organization, and had never made any
public confession of faith; and Benjamin protested
likewise, since in his opinion Judaism and Unita-
rianism were entirely different. An interesting dis-
cussion arose, and Benjamin proposed that we three
should dine with him in the evening and debate the
subject. “Aha!” mused I, “so the gentlemen speak
also of religion over their champagne and cigars.”
The invitation was accepted, and both gentlemen
arose to take their departure. I thought that I
ought to follow their example, but Webster re-
marked: “You came after these gentlemen. I have
still twenty minutes to spare.” I therefore remained;
the others departed. “I have time to listen, if you
have anything to say to me,” said Webster, sitting
down next to me on the sofa. “I am much obliged
REM.INIscences 185
to you, Your Excellency,” I answered, somewhat
embarrassed. “I came here to congratulate you and
the President on the high office in which Providence
has placed you. I wish you God’s choicest blessing
for the weal of the fatherland and humanity.” I was
surprised when this man of gigantic intellect, vis-
ibly touched, extended to me his hand in sign of
thanks. “You really wish for nothing?” said he,
after a pause. “Well, you can be easily accommo-
dated. I have heard from Amos Dean, of Albany,
how you were treated there, and how, in spite thereof,
you have still remained true to your calling. Is that
really true?” Upon my affirming this, he continued:
“You seem to have more enthusiasm for Judaism
than our ministers have for the Church. This is
worthy of all praise, although it seems to lie in the
Jewish blood, as appears clearly from the prophets
of the Old Testament and the Jewish martyrs of
all ages. I am able to offer you a number of posi-
tions here, but refrain from doing so. Your decision
appears to me sublime.”
Now it was my turn to be moved and to thank
him; in truth, tears started to my eyes. The same
words spoken by any one else would have, in all
likelihood, produced but little effect on me; but,
coming from Webster, they seemed the judgment
of the loftiest intelligence. A brief conversation fol-
lowed, when the Russian ambassador was announced.
As I was leaving, Webster said to me, “One spark
of enthusiasm is worth more than a whole conflagra-
tion of reason.” I went to the hotel to write down
every word carefully. I believe I succeeded. I
I 86 Isaac M. WISE
looked upon Webster's words in the light of a Solo-
monic decision, because I considered him the great-
est intellect of whom America could boast at this
time.
At two o'clock I called upon the President. Mil-
lard Fillmore was a good man and a skillful politi-
cian, but he had not a great mind. His culture was
superficial and insignificant and his reasoning pow-
ers circumscribed. He possessed, however, keen
intuition, a pleasing exterior, and engaging manners.
Amiable by nature, he seemed to be always smiling,
and understood the art of attaching every one to
himself. I was introduced without further ceremony
and cordially received. Fillmore inquired for his
friends and acquaintances in Albany, where he had
lived shortly before for several years as State Comp-
troller. I gave him the desired information, and
congratulated him on his unexpected rise to the
Presidency. I asked him further if I could attend to
anything for him in Albany, and was on the point of
leaving. This seemed to puzzle him, and he said to
me: “Washington is a costly place to linger in. If
you desire anything from me, out with it at once.”
When I assured him that I had come for the sole
purpose of congratulating him, he seemed astounded
and asked me, “Do you know nothing of the peti-
tion?” “Your Excellency, I know of no petition.”
He now informed me that he had received a pe-
tition from Albany, signed by Dr. Beck and others,
in which he was requested to appoint me to a po-
sition in the library of Congress, and that he had
REM.INIscENCES 187
provided for my entering upon the position the fol-
lowing New-Year's Day.
Had I gone first to Fillmore and then to Web-
ster, I would in all likelihood have wavered in my
plans upon receiving this offer; for the position was
one that appealed to me. However, when I recalled
Webster’s words, I did not hesitate one moment.
I refused the position with thanks, and explained
to the President my obligations. As I left, he said
to me again that if I should ever be in an embarrass-
ing situation, I should apply to him at once.
I now desired to spend a few hours in the Patent
Office, and went there. The Patent Office is of great
importance for the furtherance of learning, because
all the models and all the descriptions of all the
inventions made in America are open for inspection.
Here one aspect of freedom clearly appears; namely,
the flourishing of the inventive genius in the atmos-
phere of freedom, I met Lieutenant Maury in the
vestibule, and he took me to his office. Here I saw
the journals wherein were contained the reports on
winds made by all American navigators in the course
of thirty-five years. This formed the material for
Maury’s book. I had no opportunity to 10ok at the
models because I had to be back at the hotel at five
in order to reach Benjamin’s in time.
In the evening the four gentlemen spoken of
above assembled for dinner in a private apartment
at Willard's Hotel. Webster began the interrupted
conversation at once, and wanted to know my opin-
ions. I referred to Theodore Parker's conception
I 88 Isa Ac M. WISE
of Unitarianism, and set over against this my con-
ception of Judaism. This forced me to the conclu-
sion that there was no essential difference in the
matter of doctrine, but in historical development,
which, however, did not enter into the question of
doctrine. “It is well,” said Webster, extending his
hand to me; “you are indeed my co-religionist.”
Maury made the droll confession that he believed
something of the same kind, but he had never had
time to give it a definite form. Benjamin alone was
not satisfied. He had a confused notion of orthodox
Portuguese Judaism; and although he rarely heard
anything about it, and was never guided by it, he
yet insisted that he had no co-religionists beside the
Jews. The conversation was most interesting to
me; only I felt very sorry that Benjamin could not
cite one Jewish source, while Webster was thor-
oughly versed in the Bible, and had a full knowl-
edge of history.
Our conversation lasted till about ten o’clock.
Then Maury took us to the observatory, and gave us
a free lecture on astronomy till near midnight. Maury
left with Webster, while I went with Benjamin to
the hotel. The following morning I left for Phila-
delphia. I must supplement here that there was
a fifth person in our circle—i. e., Mrs. F. I am not
at liberty to give her name. Upon my return to
the hotel in the afternoon, the clerk told me that
a lady had been waiting for me for several hours.
I went with him to the parlor. He showed me a
heavily-veiled lady who accosted me at once (with-
out giving her name) with the question, “Will you
REM.INIscENCEs 189
speak here?” “No, I leave to-morrow morning.”
“Where do you go from here?” she asked me, in real
American fashion. “To Philadelphia,” I answered.
I was about to excuse myself when Benjamin stepped
into the parlor and approached us. “If I am not
mistaken, you are Mrs. F.,” he said to the veiled
lady. She extended her hand, and he seemed happy
to meet her. “I will not interrupt,” said I, and wished
to leave. “No, no; I did not come to see Mr. Ben-
jamin, although I am very glad to meet him,” said
the lady. “I am a very respectable woman; but yet
I have followed you from Philadelphia to Baltimore
to hear you speak, and I came here with the same
purpose, and now I am going back to Philadelphia.”
This whimsical woman spent the evening in the
above-mentioned circle at the urgent request of Ben-
jamin, and the following morning she traveled with
me to Philadelphia. Benjamin had informed me that
Mrs. F. was a highly respectable woman, a happy
wife and mother, and very well-to-do; that she had
lived several years in Europe, particularly in Ger-
many, at first with her mother, then with her hus-
band; that she had studied painting, and although
she had relinquished all thought of following an art-
istic career at the wish of her husband, her home
was a veritable temple of the arts and the meeting-
place of gifted people. Although she spoke little
during the evening, what she said proved her to be
possessed of exquisite tact, cultured speech, and
noble sentiments.
Upon my arrival at the station in the morning,
Mrs. F. was already in the ladies’ waiting-room, ac-
I 9o IsAAC M. WISE
companied by a negress and a fifteen-year-old boy.
She was just as heavily veiled as she had been the
day before at the hotel; but I recognized her at
once nevertheless. Politeness demanded that I de-
vote myself to her, although I would rather have
had the day to myself, since I had gathered much
food for thought in Washington.
“As you see,” said she, “I have plenty of serv-
ants. I only want your company.” Since, in addi-
tion to all else, she also addressed me in German,
I was completely conquered. I accompanied her to
the car, selected a seat for her, and traveled in her
company. Mrs. F., who will certainly read these
lines, will forgive me for thinking at that time that
I must put a good face on the matter. The woman
was so superior to me in tact and diplomacy that I
was like a schoolboy in her hands, and permitted
myself to be thoroughly catechised by her. In an
hour she knew more about me than I had intended
to tell in a year. “Women are poor narrators,” a
highly cultured friend said to me recently; “but they
can catechise sharply, penetrate into the innermost
chambers of the soul, and discover the greatest se-
crets.” All this Mrs. F. proved conclusively during
that trip from Washington to Philadelphia. I was
ashamed of my weakness. Here I sat opposite a
woman who, in age, was, at most, ten years older
than I; but yet, in her knowledge of human nature
and her cleverness she was fifty years my senior, and
she had studied neither theology nor philosophy, she
had read neither the Talmud nor the Vedas.
While we were crossing the Susquehanna from
REM.INISCENCES I 9 I
Havre de Grace by steamer, which trip took some
time, she said that after I had spoken in Baltimore
on the preceding Tuesday, she had written a poem,
which she wanted to read to me. “I did not know
that you are a poetess also.” “I am not; but at times
I write my thoughts in rhyme. It occurred to me to
write something about you. You are no Macbeth,
and I am no witch; neither am I a gypsy nor a for-
tune-teller; but after I heard you speak a few times,
and had examined you closely and carefully, I drew
the following picture of you from your words,
glances, and gestures.” She read me a poem, writ-
ten in good hexameters in English. The contents
were somewhat as follows: This young orator is the
morning star of American Judaism ; he announces
the break of day with irrestistible power; he will
spread salvation and light, but he himself can never
be happy, for three demoniacal furies struggle within
him: viz., reason, which wishes to find the final cause
and can not; intelligence, which wishes to harmonize
all differences and can not; and the sympathetic na-
ture, which feels all sorrows and pleasures, love and
'hatred, joy and misery, the more deeply the oftener
it is disappointed. He will have to strive, think, and
live in solitude, because there will be none who can
do things as he does, or who will be able to satisfy
him. He will remain ever young; but also ever un-
happy. These three irreconcilable demons will grow
and ever grow, will contend with one another, and
rend the heart. Pity, a thousand pities, that Provi-
dence does not apportion its gifts more harmoniously.
I shuddered as I listened to the poem, and as I read
I 92 IsAAC M. WISE
it myself afterwards. “You are mistaken, Mrs. F.,”
said I. “I am a careless chap who takes nothing
seriously. I am an incorrigibile optimist, to whom
everything appears in roseate hues.”
“But not you yourself; is it not so? And that is
exactly what I say,” she answered, significantly.
“Let us talk about something else.”
“Give me the poem as a souvenir, Madame!”
“If you wish it, with pleasure. I have a copy
Of it.”
She gave me the poem, and I have preserved it
as a sacred relic. Upon our arrival in Philadelphia, a
carriage met her. Without a word of invitation or
farewell she took her seat in the carriage, and it
rolled away. Later I learned the reason of this pe-
culiar behavior; but at that time it annoyed me (may
Mrs. F. forgive me), for the oracular poem had filled
me with dismay. “What does the woman want?” I
asked myself; but could find no satisfactory answer.
I was quite aware of the fact that noble women often
joined in the chase, not for the sake of the booty,
but only in order to see the animal shot, bleed, and
quiver. But this thought is something quite incom-
prehensible to me. Happily my carriage had arrived
at the hotel. I had to step out and think of other
things.
I found a number of visiting cards at the hotel.
Among them was that of the parnass Adler with a
note, requesting me to call upon him as soon as I
arrived. I did so.
Mr. Adler told me that even a larger assemblage
than the first time, if that were possible, would gather
REM.INIscENCES I 93
on the following Sabbath to hear me, and that all
the tickets for the lecture would in all likelihood be
sold. He informed me that a number of men were
taking steps to have me elected rabbi of the Rodef
Shalom congregation, and that he felt convinced that
the election would be well-nigh unanimous. Since he
did not put a direct question to me, I did not feel
called upon to give an answer. I therefore said
nothing.
Adler had prophesied correctly. The house was
crowded, both at the service on Saturday and the
lecture on Sunday, and diagonally opposite the pulpit
sat Mrs. F., who did not remove her eye from me
even for a moment. Several gentlemen, among whom
was Mr. Pomeisel, of blessed memory, visited me on
Sunday evening, and informed me that they wished
to propose me as rabbi of the Rodef Shalom congre-
gation, and that my election would encounter but
little opposition, which would be very weak at that.
I was now compelled to explain my relations to the
newly-formed congregation of Albany, and the conse-
quent impossibility of my entering into any negoti-
ations with them.
My lecture on Sunday evening was on “The Origin
of Reform,” an historical sketch from Saadia to the
year 1850, in which I proved that war had been de-
clared on the authority of the Talmud, with the be-
ginning of philosophical and exegetical studies, and
that the decline of casuistical Judaism stands in the
relation of cause and effect to the growth of free
thought. I aimed to give reform an historical foun-
dation. In the next number of the Occident, Isaac
I3
I 94 ISAAC M. WISE
Leeser, to my great surprise, spoke of the lecture in
terms of praise, and stated that reform, basing on
the Gaon Saadia, Bachya, Maimonides, and Abar-
banel, must certainly be acceptable to every one. But
that was not all. He told his readers also that I had
adduced such beautiful statements concerning Baruch
Spinoza, and he (Leeser) had never heard that Spi-
noza had exerted such an influence on the intellectual
development of mankind or on Jewish history. In
fact, I said nothing about Spinoza that Mendelssohn
had not already said. I now saw clearly that Leeser
did not know the meaning of the reform movement,
and that he had never read Spinoza nor Mendels-
sohn, Jost nor universal history.
On Sunday evening a letter containing a costly
ring was brought me from Mrs. F. She wrote me
that she could not invite me to her house, because she
was to leave that evening with her husband for New
Orleans, to escape the rigor of the winter season
there and in Cuba. She Overwhelmed me with com-
pliments, and begged me to count her among my
warmest friends. I returned the ring because I have
never worn ornaments, and wrote a suitable answer
to her letter.
Late in the evening the captain of a steamer plying
between Philadelphia and New York called on me.
His family lived in Albany, and was on friendly terms
with me. He invited me to travel with him to New
York, since a short sea voyage was most delightful
in the glorious autumn weather. I accepted the invi-
tation, and left Philadelphia Monday morning.
REM.INIscENCES I 95
If my brief sojourn in Washington had pleased
and encouraged me beyond expression, the results
achieved in Baltimore and Philadelphia were of much
greater importance for me. I recognized that the
Jewish masses were susceptible to reform if this were
explained to them clearly and eloquently. Hence
Albanian Orthodoxy had defeated neither the reform
movement nor myself. This conviction, gained from
the facts in the case, was the real treasure that I had
gathered in a very short space of time. The enthu-
siasm of Mrs. F. afforded striking proof of the opin-
ions that were prevalent in cultured circles, although
Senator Benjamin, who took no interest in Judaism,
was still laboring beneath the weight of mediaevalism.
I felt refreshed and encouraged. My resolution and
determination to work for light and progress received
a fresh impetus. I was again the optimist, the world-
improver, the enthusiast.
The trip down the Delaware to Cape May, then
along the Jersey coast to the narrow channel that
connects the ocean and New York Bay, on a calm
moonlit night on board a swiftly-flying steamer is
fairy-like and charming. The silver-enveloped boat
glides softly and almost inaudibly upon the surface
of the deep. On either bank of the Delaware, and
then on the shore of the sea, everything seems trans-
formed, and the stars in the firmament, the sacred
scripture of all times and places, become the love-
letters of God to mankind. Every feeling in one’s
breast is attuned to the praise of the eternal love.
I was in my element. I could think, love, and wor-
I96 ISAAC M. WISE
ship in songs without words. The captain and the
small company were very entertaining. There were
SOngs, anecdotes, and declamations. I was com-
pelled to participate. This I did mechanically, for
my spirit was away, immersed in the beauty of the
scenery and the lovely night. The company finally
dispersed, and I was at liberty to dream and build air-
castles the whole night long. Mrs. F.'s poem ap-
peared tantalizingly among the beautiful pictures. I
laughed at it, and considered the woman to be a
visionary. I recognized at once that she was far
superior to me in cleverness and knowledge of human
nature; but I recognized further that I was but an
artless child, and that it did not take much to be
superior to me in these things. I called myself a
credulous boy, a fantastic fool; but I could not exer-
cise the mocking spirit. The gray of the morning
dawn found me still walking dreamily on the deck of
the ship. I dropped into an arm-chair, and fell asleep.
When I awoke the sun was high in the heavens, and
I saw, to my amazement, that we were in the vicinity
of those rocky shores where I had stood four years
previously on my arrival from Europe, and had had
that terrible dream which I have told at the beginning
of these reminiscences. The events of the past, with
all its struggles and sufferings, now passed in review
before me. The dream, thought I, has been partly
fulfilled; yes, Mrs. F. is all right; I shall never
be happy. A terrible fate has condemned me to be
the scapegoat of an era in contradiction with itself.
I grew terrified. The future looked blank. “It is
REM.INIscENCES I 97
enough, O Lord!” I cried out; but it was not enough.
The worst was still to come. Happy was I that I
knew it not at the time. The captain brought my
melancholy meditations to a sudden end. He invited
me to breakfast. It was some time before he suc-
ceeded in enlivening me; but we ate, drank, smoked,
and chatted while the boat steamed up the bay, and
we arrived at New York in cheerful spirits.
X
T that time one could leave New York for Albany
only in the morning or at night; therefore I had
to remain over till evening, and as usual I went to Dr.
Lilienthal’s. Here I was taken in hand by Dr. Moritz
Mayer, a teacher in Lilienthal’s school. He expati-
ated on the merits of the B’ne Brith order, and per-
suaded me to join it. That very evening my name
was proposed for membership in Lodge No. 2. I was
accepted and initiated. The ritual seemed to me
colorless, the people commonplace, and the proceed-
ings unbearably wearisome and trivial. The whole
thing seemed to me childish tomfoolery, and made
so disagreeable an impression on me that I thought
immediately of plans of improvement, which, how-
ever, did not materialize till twelve years later.
I hurried home the next evening to my dear ones,
whom I found well and hearty. I had brought back
some money for the new congregation and much en-
couragement. My school had been opened by the
teachers at the appointed time; hence I was enabled
to go to work at once. My friends were full of confi-
dence. The leaders of the young Anshe Emeth con-
gregation had done splendid work in the meantime.
They had rented quarters in the second story of a
suitable building, although the Universalists had of-
fered us their church, an offer which we could not
I98
REMINISCENCES I 99
accept at the time. All the suits but two had been
settled, and these were of a personal nature. The
retiring members received from the Bethel congre-
gation an inconsiderable amount of money, which was
devoted at once to the purchase of a piece of land
to be used as a cemetery. Upon my return I found
the congregation completely organized and in full
swing. Nothing was lacking except a temple, and
that, too, came in good time.
All reforms were abrogated in the Bethel syna-
gogue, and the orthodox party held high carnival as
in the old Ghetto days. This did not provoke me so
much as did the abrogation of the fund for the sup-
port of widows and orphans, which had existed in
conjunction with the Mt. Carmel Lodge. My Op-
ponents had taken advantage of my absence, and had
divided the money among the members. They had
robbed the widows and orphans, in order to anger
me. Nothing was left for me but to resign from the
lodge. Thereupon we organized the sewing society,
with Mrs. Marianne Smith at the head. This society
undertook to collect clothes, to sew, knit, embroider,
etc., to clothe the poor, and to hold a fair yearly for
the sale of fancy articles. The money thus acquired
was distributed to the poor, the widows, and the
orphans. The society was very popular, and did a
great deal of good.
The suits had been decided, and peace seemed to
return; but the party hatred and fanaticism were un-
conquerable. Albany was divided into two Jewish fac-
tions that never came into contact with each other;
hence personal attacks and insults were now out of
2OO IsAAC M. WISE
the question. Peace and quiet ruled seemingly. A
spirit of heartiness prevailed in the new congregation,
whose members were all of one way of thinking, and
closely attached to one another. There was not the
slightest disturbance in the congregation or among
the members as long as I was in Albany. A new
bond of friendship came into being with the new
congregation.
Shortly after my return home I began to write
the articles I had promised to Horace Greeley. I
desired to use the opportunity to come to a definite
understanding with orthodoxy, and to show that it
had no future. I wanted to express myself fully,
tersely, and determinedly. This takes time. I wrote,
or rather I thought out, what I wished to say for sev-
eral weeks. Mrs. F.'s witch-like poem kept revolving
in my brain, and perplexed me. “Can I not eat,
drink, and enjoy life as well as others? wherefore
struggle and fight continually?” I asked myself re-
peatedly; and then I would write further, but pro-
tested against the rival in my own bosom. I had to
confess that at 1east two demons had their seat within
me. This brought the witch-like poem again to the
surface. I had almost finished the article, when I
received a letter from Robert Lyons, the publisher
of the Jewish weekly, the Asmonean. He wrote me
that Mrs. F. had convinced him that I was the man
of the future for American Judaism, and that it was
vain and sinful to oppose me. He had been told the
same thing by others. He himself was orthodox;
but he did not wish to stand in the light of the future
of American Judaism. Therefore he offered me the
-
-
AET. SEVENTY-NINE

REM.INIscENCES 2 O I
editorship of his paper, and would devote himself to
the belletristical department altogether.
Here I stood again at the parting of the ways. I
had been abused in Albany. Should I subject myself
to similar experiences again at the hands of all the
world, or should I eat, drink, play, be merry, and en-
joy life, and let Judaism take care of itself? I strug-
gled for a long time, and could come to no decision.
“Do not be egotistical,” said I to myself. “He who
lives for himself alone moves in a narrow sphere;
he who serves a cause allies himself to humanity,
subordinates his ego to his ideals, lives a thousand-
fold larger life.” “But you have wife and children to
whom also you belong,” thus ran my thoughts; “if
you cast yourself into this wild stream, think what
your dear ones will lose; think how you will have to
neglect them.” I could reach no decision. Finally
I appealed to the highest oracle, my wife, to whose
intuition I frequently subordinated my doubts and
questionings. I explained the matter to her in all
its aspects, whereupon she spoke the fateful words:
“In God’s name, devote yourself to humanity. I will
be satisfied with your hours of leisure. I will rear
your children and conduct your household.” The
next morning I wrote to Robert Lyons, and accepted
the editorship.
The fun now began. One Friday morning the
ultra-orthodox Polish-English paper, the only Jewish
organ beside the monthly magazine, The Occident, ap-
peared with the name of the traduced of all traducers
at its head, and filled from end to end with bold.at-
tacks upon fallow orthodoxy; yes, full of progressive
2O2 IsAAC M. WISE
ideas and projects of reform, of earnestness, fire, and
lightning. A cry of dismay escaped the abused and
betrayed orthodox party. Robert Lyons was bom-
barded with threats and letters; but all to no avail.
I poured hot shot week after week into the wavering
ranks of the opposition, until I had repaid with in-
terest all the slights and insults of the past six months.
Only then I felt calmer and more forgiving.
In this manner I became an editor almost against
the will of my other self. I have often regretted the
step, and yet I have never been able to get out of the
shackles. Since the days of Saul of Tarsus, who car-
ried nascent Christianity into Asia Minor, no sensible
person has undertaken to travel far and wide, to
quarrel with everybody, to scold, to endure so many
attacks, threats, insults, and defamation on behalf
of Judaism as did I, simply because I was so unfor-
tunate as to be an editor, an idealist, and an op-
timist; because, too, I was unfortunate enough to be
able to talk and write better than my enemies, and
because I was more honest than those that envied me.
I have often regretted that I did not choose a more
tranquil career; but I was now in the current; it was
out of the question to turn back. Mrs. F. was chiefly
to blame. May God in his mercy forgive the good
woman |
Having found everything running smoothly in the
congregation, the school, and my family upon my re-
turn, I was enabled to turn my attention to my non-
Jewish friends, and to thank them for their kindly
intervention in my behalf at Washington. All of
REM.INIscENCES 2O3
them were satisfied with the resolution I had taken,
except Dr. Beck. This gentleman was the chan-
cellor and superintendent of the schools of New York
State. He was renowned as a mathematician and
natural scientist, and was as enthusiastic for science
as I for Judaism. He chided me in no gentle manner,
for such was his nature. He had hoped that I would
devote myself to scientific pursuits while stationed in
the Congressional Library. When I informed him
further that I had undertaken the editorship of a
Jewish paper he grew excited, and said bluntly: “Now
you are lost; you will accustom yourself to writing
newspaper articles, mere ephemeral productions, and
in a few years you will be a skillful scribbler, such
as they all are, unable to think out or to write any-
thing of lasting worth. Whoever wishes to achieve,
must write but little.” He is right, mused I, and I
will remember what he says. Earnest study will be
the means whereby I will protect myself from stag-
nating. The dogmatic contentions of the past sum-
mer had awakened in me a feeling of insecurity in
regard to philosophical matters, and I resolved to
devote myself to a thorough study of the Jewish
philosophers. I went to work immediately. The first
thing that I did was, as a matter of course, to study
carefully the books on this subject that were in my
possession. These were at best quite insignificant in
number. I was not content to rest here. I was deter-
mined to investigate the subject thoroughly. Hence,
after I had noted the small stock of Jewish philosoph-
ical books in my own library, I made a complete list
2O4. Is AAC M. WISE
of the best books on the history and philosophy of
the Middle Ages. Whichever of these books was
not in the State Library had to be ordered at once.
I went bravely to work. I was enabled to over-
come the difficulties with which I met, because all
possible aids were available. The library ordered
every book that I wanted. I was already accustomed
to comparative studies, because of my former work
in mythology. I pursued the same comparative
method with the Jewish, Christian, and Mohammedan
mediaeval philosophers, and gained an insight into the
thought of the Middle Ages. I became more and
more convinced that the Jewish thinkers had exerted
an influence in the domain of philosophy up to the
time of the Reformation. This fact had never been
pointed out. It was my desire to bring this to public
notice. Upon mature deliberation, I resolved to write
a history of the Middle Ages, and to set forth therein
the significance of Jewish thought. I began collect-
ing material at once. The scholars and literati who
frequented the library, seeing me buried in the dust
of the Middle Ages, made sport of me; but I did not
permit myself to be diverted. I persevered in the
work, devoted all my leisure hours to it, and was
firmly resolved to write the book. The question
whether I was competent to write such a work was
a side issue, because I rarely asked myself whether
I was competent to do this or that after I had deter-
mined upon it. I said to myself continually: “A per-
son can learn whatever he does not know, and what-
ever he can not accomplish in one year can be
achieved in five or ten years. Patience, industry, per-
ReMINIscENCES 2O5
severance, and a little ability will overcome all ob-
stacles.” And I would certainly have written the book
had it not been for certain future events, which will
be narrated in due time. Amos Dean, it is true, ad-
vised me frequently not to write for a while. He
held the opinion that no one ought to write a book
before he reached his fortieth year.
Undisturbed peace and perfect satisfaction reigned
in my congregation, as well as in my family, so that
there was nothing to disturb me in my work. The
suits continued to arouse much acrimony, nor was
there any lack of disagreeable and even laughable
occurrences during the trials; however, these things
troubled me but little. My suit against Louis Spanier
ended in the conviction of the parnass, as was to be
expected. The verdict was one thousand dollars
damages and costs. I never received the one thou-
sand dollars, because I did not want them. It was
enough for me that the law had decided that my con-
duct was lawful, while my opponent’s acts were il-
legal. This decision led to an amicable settlement
of all other difficulties, and the suits were dismissed.
True, I still had enemies galore; but they met me
no more. I had nothing to do with them, and lived
in peace.
The matter must have cost Spanier several thou-
sands of dollars. It was a severe blow to his pride
to be condemned to pay so large a price, and to be
publicly branded as a lawbreaker; yet this was not
his greatest punishment. It was still more disagree-
able for him that he had to remain parnass of the
Bethel congregation for some time longer, and to
2O6 IsAAc M. WISE
associate with people whom he looked down upon
from his aristocratic height, and of whom he was
ashamed when they came to his house. He retired
shortly thereafter, left Albany, and died a few years
later in his prime. May God forgive his sins ! I
have forgiven him long ago. If I mistake not, the
whole family has died out. If, however, any member
of the family is still living, I beg him or them to con-
sider me a friend, and to turn to me trustingly in case
of need.
Peace ruled in Albany, and my friend, Henry Blatt-
ner, comforted me with these words: “The more you
are persecuted, the greater you will become. Had
it not been for Saul’s persecution, David would not
have become king of Israel.” But I was a very in-
significant person, and I was afraid of all the perse-
cutions that would have to take place in order to
make me great. I thought it better to remain in-
significant without persecutions, than to become great
through hard and bitter strife. No honors can com-
pensate for slights and heart-burnings. Wounds
leave scars, and these ache whenever the weather
changes.
Although I could now pursue the even tenor of
my way, everything being at peace, yet the editorship
of the Asmonean consumed much time. I desired to
achieve something noteworthy. My articles on re-
form could not be the piece de resistance, because I
had to count on various classes of readers, and be-
sides continued harping on the same theme grows
monotonous, and misses its aim. Therefore I wrote
three lengthy essays, “The Bath Qol,” included later
REM.INISCENCES 207
y
in part in my “Origin of Christianity;” a biography
of the first Hillel, as the precursor of Jesus; and “The
Jewish Constitution, based on the Code of Maimon-
ides.” Nothing was known in this country of the
German Jewish literature. Hence I was compelled
to translate in order to bring the names of our Ger-
man litterateurs to public notice. I translated suc-
cessively the chapter on the Book of Chronicles in
Zunz's Gottesdienstliche Vortraege der Juden, Geiger's
Divan des Jehuda Halevi, Frankel’s Der Gerichtliche
Beweis, etc., and various writings of Rapaport, Reg-
gio, Luzzatto, Krochmal, Munk, Carmoly, Holdheim,
Jost, and Graetz (from his magazine). In addition, I
published weekly a rabbinical legend from Talmud or
Midrash. This had to be rendered from the original
sources. I was the first to introduce the column of
foreign news, a feature which was adopted in Eng-
land in imitation of my plan. The Talmudical ex-
cerpts cost me but little effort, because I remembered
much from my youthful studies. But the writing took
a great deal of time. I lacked the mechanical per-
fection which one gains only through practice. I
had to work till twelve o'clock almost every night.
My sorest trial lay in the many letters I received,
all of which I thought had to be answered. I was
praised and blamed, lifted to the skies and trampled
into the dust; was called by this one the Messiah, by
that one Satan. I was advised, helped, threatened,
cursed, and prophesied about. In short, I was fairly
bombarded. Compliments and detractions, laudatory
poems and caricatures, followed each other in such
quick succession that finally I lost all patience, and
208 ISAAC M. WISE
threw the whole batch into the fire, answered no more
communications, and paid no attention to them.
“You shall not lead me astray,” I soliloquized.
“Providence has placed me in a responsible position.
I will try to prove myself worthy of it in accordance
with my convictions and my powers. I would rather
continue teaching school and retain my independence,
than lose my independence and self-respect as an
editor. If I can not do as I will, I will retire. I will
not be the servant of the public if I have the ability
to teach. Either the prevalent opinion must succumb
to me, or I will cease writing.” This was my reso-
lution, and I acted accordingly.
There were some characteristic letters which I did
not burn, among them several from Mrs. F., who had
made me an editor. Shortly after my acceptance of
the editorship she wrote me: “Until now you have
been for me Hamlet in the pulpit. I have designated
you thus in my album, and I have written under-
neath, “Truth is stranger than fiction.’ You were
enveloped in such a cloud of poetry while in the pul-
pit that I learned to know but one aspect of your
nature. The other aspect appears in your written
articles. These strengthen my conviction that all men
are malicious. Perhaps malice must be met with
malice; perhaps malice can be feigned. I beg of you
to have regard for your tender fingers, which are
worthy of preservation even without my ring, if only
to answer my letters diligently, whenever you re-
move rocks and uproot mountains in order to storm
the orthodox heaven and to dethrone the rabbinical
Zeus. The savage element must be removed from
REM.INIscENCES 2O9
all men, either by pouting or kissing. Tell your dear
wife that I advise her to study her rôle as wife better.
I have completely civilized my dear husband; but I
would not undertake a like Herculean labor again
at any price,” etc. Mrs. F. often wrote me still more
malicious letters; but I remained in her debt as little
as I did in that of my opponents. I truly paid “an
eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.”
The winter of 1851 found me so engrossed in study
and work that I had little time to devote to pleasure
and amusement. True, I attended occasionally the
meetings of the Literary Society, where I met my in-
timate friends for half an hour's chat; but it was
always late at night, sometimes between eleven and
twelve o’clock, when I went there. I read a paper
but seldom at the meetings, and I was able to attend
the entertainments still less frequently. I went to
New York occasionally; but never without continu-
ing my labors on board the steamer, so that I be-
came a veritable literary machine. I was healthy,
happy, and untroubled by cares. The springtide en-
ticed me into the fields and the woods. I reveled in
them for a week, and then returned to my work.
During the summer events took place which made
the future of the young Anshe Emeth congregation
look very bright. The Quaker Schoolcraft, who, as
I have mentioned already, was a member of Congress,
became the guardian of the family of his deceased
brother, who had left a not inconsiderable fortune.
Among his effects was that Baptist church in which
the young clergyman had spoken so fanatically
against the Jews and Judaism four years previously.
I4
2 IO Is AAC M. WISE
The church was large, well-built, stood in the center
of the southern part of the city, and contained every-
thing necessary for a temple, except an ark for the
Torah. Schoolcraft was an outspoken opponent of
the Baptists, and very friendly to the Jews. He of.
fered to sell us the church cheap, and on easy
terms. The congregation accepted the offer at once,
and bought the church. The new reform congrega-
tion was established firmly. It came into possession
of one of the largest churches in the city, containing
about one thousand seats. It was well furnished, had
an organ and family pews, schoolroom, vestry-room,
dwelling etc.; everything in prime condition. Great
enthusiasm reigned in the congregation when we took
possession of the building in August. Everybody
was eager to work, to toil, and to offer something
to the cause. A beautiful aron haggodesh was placed
in the building, not towards the sun rising, however.
The women made a handsome parokheth, a cover for
the Torah, etc. The day of the dedication, towards
which everybody was looking joyfully, arrived finally.
Dr. Lilienthal was invited to deliver the German
oration, in order to give me the opportunity to ex-
plain to the world in English the significance of the
new movement in Judaism. The choir had rehearsed
for two months. Everything was in readiness, all
State and city officials were invited. The scholars
and literati of the library; in truth, all the most promi-
nent people of the city were present when the new
temple, in all its splendor and glory, was dedicated
as a Jewish house of worship. It was a day of ec-
static enthusiasm for us, an hour of atonement and
REM.INISCENCES 2 I I
heartfelt rapprochement between the Jews and the
most cultured non-Jews of the city of Albany. The
proceedings were reported far and wide through the
agency of the press. It was perhaps the first time in
America that progressive Judaism had had an oppor-
tunity to speak forth its doctrines in earnest, fiery
words, which were reproduced a laundred-fold and
spread broadcast. The most bigoted among the Or-
thodox had stationed sentinels to warn strangers not
to enter the temple; but it was too late, a new spirit
had breathed upon the people. The temple became
the center for all Jews and all liberal non-Jews. It
was regarded as a rising sun, which shed new light
and contained the promise and potency of new life.
Naturally the jubilation among the temple people
was inexpressible at their scarcely credible success
after but one year's existence. The non-Jewish world
sympathized with us, since we alone were actuated
by regard for the needs and the spirit of the age,
and matters reached such a pass that merchants who
were members of another congregation or of none
had to deny this fact to their beautiful female cus-
tomers, because these took for granted that every
decent Jew had to belong to the new congregation.
My numerous friends among the non-Jewish popu-
lation of Albany pilgrimed in great numbers to the
temple to greet resurrected Israel, and to express
their hearty sympathy with us. Mrs. F. came from
Philadelphia in company with friends, a half-dozen
cultured women, in order to offer us her felicitations
in person. A veritable deluge of greetings and con-
gratulations came from New York in words like the
2 I 2 Isa AC M. WISE
following: “A new star has arisen in Jacob,” “A new
light shines upon Zion;” “It was evening, and it was
morning;” “Arise, shine, for thy light is come,” etc.
American Judaism is indebted to the Anshe Emeth
congregation of Albany for one important reform ;
viz., family pews. The church-building had family
pews, and the congregation resolved unanimously
to retain them. This innovation was imitated later
in all American reform congregations. This was an
important step, which was severely condemned at the
time. The Jewish woman had been treated almost as
a stranger in the synagogue; she had been kept at a
distance, and had been excluded from all participation
in the life of the congregation, had been relegated
to the gallery, even as was the negro in Southern
churches. The emancipation of the Jewish woman
was begun in Albany, by having the Jewish girls sing
in the choir, and this beginning was reinforced by
the introduction of family pews.
American Judaism is indebted to these two re-
forms, which were bitterly opposed, for good music,
decorum, and quiet in the house of worship, as well
as for the interest and affection of our wives and Our
daughters for the synagogue. Every impartial per-
son acknowledges at present how much these reforms
contributed to the ennobling of the service, to the
strengthening of the spirit of devotion, and particu-
larly to the enhancing of the religious self-conscious-
ness of our women. But at that time these steps
were deemed unlawful innovations. We, however,
pursued the even tenor of our way, paying no heed
to the mutterings of our opponents.
REMINISCENCES 2 I 3
An important question soon arose as to whether
it was permissible to use the organ on Yom Kippur,
since we had a number of honorable members who
had conscientious scruples. Our amiable friend,
Maier Freund, was looked upon as the representative
of that sentiment, and he was asked, “Maier, have
you heard what they intend to do now? They intend
to use the organ even on Yom Kippur.” Our Maier
answered in great astonishment, “If the organ is not
to be played on Yom Kippur, our holiest day, of what
use is it?” That was enough for us. The organ was
heard on Yom Kippur, accompanying the songs of
Sulzer and Naumburg. There was no protest or
dissent.
The difference between the two days in the years
I850 and 1851 was so great, that I spoke on the
evening of Yom Kippur before God and the congre-
gation in so inspired and inspiring a manner that I
have never succeeded in equaling it since. I saw
God’s favor revealed in peace, joy, progress, and en-
thusiasm, and I thanked and praised him from the
depth of my soul. My feelings found expression in
a flow of words the like of which I have never been
able to utter since. I tried to write down the sermon
on the following day; but I did not succeed. The
enthusiasm born of the moment can not be com-
mitted to paper later. I could retain the shadow
only; the spirit had flown. The power of the living
word is wrongly called the magnet of the speaker.
This is not true. When the spirit rises aloft, when
feelings master the heart, words are spoken or writ-
ten for which the orator is really not responsible.
2 I 4 Isa AC M. WISE
The best productions of mouth or pen to which I
have given utterance have been, not the results of
careful contemplation, but the flashes of momentary
inspiration. In such moments I have spoken and
written thoughts which I scarcely recognized as my
own in calmer moments. I am unable to write a
line of poetry for years; suddenly I am deeply roused
by an event, or I am seized by some deep feeling,
then the strophes flow from my pen as though a
higher Being guided my hand, and I must needs force
myself not to write and speak poetry constantly. This
has always been a riddle to me, and Eduard von Hart-
man has not been able to enlighten me. I have given
productions of this kind to various friends, who I
hope will guard them faithfully until I am no longer
among the living. This is in all likelihood a fourth
demon which Mrs. F. did not take into account. The
dedication of the Anshe Emeth Temple was such an
event for me. I scarcely recognize as my own the
thoughts I jotted down at that time. However, the
time of sober work was again before me, and that,
too, in an entirely new field, requiring great exertion.
I soon found myself in my accustomed place at the
library, in the company of the great spirits of all
the ages.
•
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y
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_xi
PHAVE stated that Mrs. F. and some other ladies
| had come to Albany to be present at the dedication
of the temple.' Miss G. was one of the most promi-
nent of these visitors. She was the sweetheart of the
celebrated author, Washington Irving. Since he was
not a Jew, and she would not marry a Christian, they
both remained unmarried, but carried on an active
correspondence with one another to the end of their
lives. This Miss G. was the original of Walter Scott's
Rebecca in Ivanhoe. The great novelist pictured her
faithfully, although he knew her only from her por-
trait, her letters, and the oral description of Wash-
ington Irving.” S
These ladies, all of whom were Portuguese Jew-
esses, importuned me to write a history of the Jews
instead of a history of the Middle Ages. I had com-
municated my purpose to Mrs. F. some time before,
*this statement embodies the commonly accepted belief of
former days concerning the relation existing between Irving and
Rebecca Gratz, who the Miss G. mentioned in the “Reminiscences'’
evidently is. Dr. Wise recounts what was then matter of current
opinion ; however, it has been established that Miss Gratz was the
intimate friend of Irving's fiancée, Matilda Hoffman, at whose
death-bed she was present. The friendship was continued by
Irving, who described his beautiful and cultured Jewish friend to
Walter Scott. The great Scotch novelist formed his conception of
Rebecca from the description Irving had given him of the lovely
American Jewess.-[ED.
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216 Isa AC M. WISE
and she had requested me to devote myself rather to
writing Jewish history. Upon my refusal, she sent
her well-instructed agents to convince me. When I
persisted in the pursuance of my original plan, she
came with this bevy of Portuguese Jewesses to per-
suade me. -
Any one who does not know this peculiar class
of American women may consider this proceeding
strange. American women exercise great influence
in religious matters. This is also the case often with
the native-born Jewesses of Portuguese descent.
In addition, they are very proud of their descent.
They lay the greatest stress on the genealogical tree.
They are Jews and Jewesses from pride of ancestry.
Hence Jewish history is of prime importance in their
eyes. They like to hear about the Jewish worthies
of aforetime. The princes of Judah and the heroes
of the olden days are of great interest to them, be-
cause their blood flows through the veins of the
present generation of Jews. Ancestral pride of birth
has been beaten out of the German and the Polish
Jews with whip and knout; but it has persisted in
these American Portuguese. Then, as now, there
were but few works on Jewish history in the English
language, and therefore Mrs. F. desired that I, willy
nilly, should undertake this task. I expressed my
doubts as to my powers and protested my inability,
but all to no avail; I had to submit. If any man living
can succeed in holding his own in the face of the oppo-
sition of six women, I can but admire and congratulate
him; for I was not able to do so. Mrs. F. and her
bodyguard would not desist until I promised to be-
REM.INIscences 217
gin my studies in Jewish history at once. Therefore
I had to begin with B’reshith once again in the win-
ter of 1852. May God forgive this woman all her
sins, and also this one ! First she made a Jewish
editor of me, and then also a Jewish historian.
From that hour on I ceased to be free and uncon-
cerned. I had to study and write constantly. I was
confined indoors, had to leave the management of
the school to the congregation almost entirely, and
acquired a new ailment; viz., chronic absent-minded-
ness, so that frequently I could not distinguish be-
tween the hat and the hat-box, and put the latter
on my head in place of the former. My wife found
it necessary to inspect me every time I left the house.
If it happened that I escaped without submitting my-
self to her inspection, I was sure to be laughed at;
for there was certain to be something odd about my
costume. I disliked to be considered eccentric, and
hence submitted with childlike humility to the sur-
veillance of my wife. A person as absent-minded
and dreamy as I was required a guardian indeed, --~~
Since the most profound peace and satisfaction
ruled in the congregation, and my superiority to my
opponents in my editorial capacity was assured, there
was nothing of particular importance to jot down
in my diary. I noted two occurrences that took place
in the winter of 1852, which were as follows: On
January 2, 1852, a resolution was passed in both
Houses of the Legislature of the State of New York
to the effect that the clergymen of the city of Al-
bany be asked to hold a meeting to prepare a list
of all the ministers stationed in the city, and submit .
218 Isaac M. WISE
it to the Senate, in order that chaplains for both
Houses might be elected. The resolution was printed
and a copy sent to every minister; hence also to me.
On the following day I read to my astonishment in
the evening paper that a meeting of ministers had
taken place. The list that had been prepared by
them was appended. It was to be submitted to the
Senate on the morrow. My name was not on the
list.
“Ye miserable hypocrites, I will teach you a les-
son, mused I. I went to the clerk of the Senate,
and acquainted him with the proceeding. “Very
well; write a short protest, and hand it to me,” said
he. I wrote the protest and gave it to him. The
next morning the report of the clergy, accompanied
by my protest, was read in the Senate chamber, and
was rejected on the ground that it did not comply
with the law. The ministers ought to have called
a second meeting, and to have invited me to be pres-
ent. Instead of that, they prepared a protest against
the action of the Senate on the ground that I was
not one of their number, saying that I was a Jewish
rabbi and not a Christian minister. Dr. Wykoff ob-
jected, was outvoted, left the meeting, came straight
to my house, and informed me of the action. The
protest had to be printed; so I went to the different
newspaper offices, found the document, read it
through, wrote a reply, had it printed at once, and
on the following morning the protest and my reply
were lying on each desk. This caused no end of
merriment. One of the senators said that I must
be a prophet since I had answered a document point
REM.INIscences 2 I 9
for point even before it had appeared. Upon the
opening of the session the clerk announced the re-
ceipt of the two documents, but they were not read
nor filed since the Senate did not wish to lend official
notice to the protest prepared by the clergy. After
this was disposed of, my friend, Senator Thayer,
arose and moved that I be appointed chaplain of
the Senate temporarily until the clergy should have
obeyed the law. This motion was carried unani-
mously without debate. The clergymen made wry
faces; but I was chaplain of the Senate until such
a time as they would act in accordance with the
law and place the name of the terrible rabbi upon
the list, a step which they could not make up their
minds to take for a long time. Thus I became the
first Jewish chaplain of a legislative body. I held the
position as long as I was in Albany.
The other event was as follows: A number of
young people who had formed a literary society in
New York invited me to deliver a lecture before
them. I went to New York, lectured in the Chi-
nese Assembly Rooms before a very large audience,
and was heartily applauded by the young people.
The next day a friend, Joseph Levy, called and in-
formed me that a society consisting of natives of
Posen, whereof he was president, would celebrate
its anniversary on the following evening, for which
event he had brought me an official invitation. At
the same time he requested me to respond to the
toast “Education.” I accepted the invitation, and
promised to speak on the subject as requested. In
the evening I learned that the society consisted of
22O Isa AC M. WISE
dyed-in-the-wool orthodox people, and that it was
their purpose to insult me. I was advised to keep
away. The next morning I went to a Jewish an-
tiquarian and bought a Sefer hachayim printed in
Posen, in which there was a diagram of the cemetery
of Posen, together with a copy of all the principal
epitaphs. I memorized a dozen of these. Now I
felt prepared for the fray, and went to the banquet
that night. I met there Drs. Illowy and Raphall
and Rev. Isaacs. They all wore little velvet skull-
caps; I did not. The guests sat down, the banquet
was finished, the annual report was read, and Dr.
Illowy delivered an address in which he attacked
the reform movement and myself sharply. He was
applauded loudly. This encouraged Dr. Raphall,
who was the next speaker. He was still more severe,
and Isaacs improved even upon him. The president,
who sat next to me, gnashed his teeth with rage;
but I swallowed the bitter pills with good grace.
Finally the toast on “Education” was announced,
and the president introduced me. The fun began.
Glasses and bottles clashed, knives and forks became
restless, plates and dishes struck each other in in-
imical fashion, the feet under the tables began to
stamp, conversation rose to a loud pitch; in short,
they made as much noise as they could, in order to
prevent my being heard. “Quiet, gentlemen Order,
gentlemen ſ” shouted the poor, troubled president
a number of times; but all in vain. The more loudly
he called for order, the more noisy grew the assem-
bly. “Sit down,” Mr. President,” said I; “these
people have to deal with Wise, of Albany. I will
REM.INIscENCES 2. 2. I
bring them to order.” The good man, embarrassed
beyond expression, sat down, and I shouted to the
noisy throng: “Friends, has any one of you ever
been in the Beth hachayim of Posen?” “O yes,” an-
swered some forty or fifty voices; “I have been there.”
I repeated the question so often until they all had
answered yes. The dread recollections of the Beth
hachayim now mastered the assembly, and a grave-
like stillness ruled. I continued: “Who can call to
mind that high tombstone upon which this inscrip-
tion may be read P’’ I then recited six of the most
important epitaphs in so sepulchral a tone that the
assemblage began to shiver. When I noticed that
all of them were waiting for the next word, I put
the query, “Why do we honor the men whose epi-
taphs I have just recited so highly? Because they
were masters of Jewish learning. They were choice
products of education.” And in this way I came to
my theme, which I treated exhaustively. After fin-
ishing this, I thundered against all the obscurantists
and night-owls who obstructed the progress of hu-
manity. I hurled poisoned barbs of speech at my
opponents. The crowd, now thoroughly converted,
shouted approval. It seemed as though the applause
and bravos would never end after I sat down. Some
one shouted, “That fellow has a thousand devils in
him.” “Aha!” thought I, “he has an even worse
opinion of me than Mrs. F., who scented but three
demons in me.” Afterwards the doctors, reverends,
and saints came to me and confessed that it was
unwise to begin quarreling with me. Since that time
I have had quite a number of friends and admirers
222 Isa AC M. WISE
among the Poseners. It requires a certain amount
of boldness to act as I did; but I had grown accus-
tomed to being a war-horse. I never lose my self-
control. “I am your master.” I never permit myself
to be rebuffed or frightened. Opposition merely
whets effort and arouses energy. Courage grows
in battle.
If a person lacks all diplomacy and is utterly re-
gardless of consequences as I was, if he pushes on
thoughtlessly and directly to the accomplishment of
his aims, as I did in my innocence; if he is what is
usually called “honest, but stupid,” he ought to be
placed under police surveillance. I was engaged in
writing a history of Israel. The work had to be, not
only published, but also sold. I knew that my stand-
point was hateful to the public; therefore it should
have been my object to gain friends and patrons. Any
sensible person would have acted in this manner;
but not I. Instead of that, I incurred the unforgiv-
ing enmity of the whole Jewish and Christian clergy.
The articles I wrote as editor were responsible for
this. Of course, I might have employed my edito-
rial pen for my personal advantage, had I so desired.
The state of affairs to which I allude was brought
about in the following way:
In writing my history, I was compelled to devote
many hours to Biblical studies. I selected all the
passages which are usually quoted as evidences of
Christianity by its supporters, studied them thor-
oughly, wrote a series of critical articles, and pub-
lished them in the Asmonean. Besides the well-
known passages in the Pentateuch, I took up all the
REM.INIscENCES 223
so-called Messianic psalms, the well-known passages
in Isaiah, Joel, and Zachariah, as well as those in
Samuel and Chronicles. I treated them exhaust-
ively, and took away all support from under Chris-
tian exegesis. Several liberal and semi-liberal Chris-
tian papers reprinted the articles. Some sly editors
published extracts, accompanied by denunciatory
comments expressing horror at the conclusions pre-
sented. The orthodox papers stormed against the
rationalistic, infidel, and paradoxical rabbi, and in-
cited the whole Christian clergy against me. It was
out of the question for me to enter the lists. Many
dogs kill the rabbit. They attacked me, not with
critical pens, but with whips and clubs.
On the other hand, I had been thoroughly con-
vinced that thorough-going reforms would be pos-
sible in Judaism only if there would be a radical revo-
lution in the character of the religious leaders, who
were then mostly chagamim. In using this term,
chagan, I do not wish to be understood as referring
to the present-day cultured cantors, or to a teacher
and preacher in a rural community of to-day, but
to an uneducated person, who is butcher, cantor, and
idler. With but few exceptions, this was the char-
acter of all who stood at the head of the congrega-
tions. They rendered no service worthy the name,
because they were unable to do so. They slaughtered
animals, sang their old melodies and new street
songs in the synagogues, paid no attention to the
young, knew very little about Judaism and still less
about anything else, promoted superstition, enjoyed
no one’s respect, and were salaried congregational
224 Isa AC M. WISE
evils. They were the blocks that obstructed the path
of progress. “These will have to be removed,” I
mused, “cost what it may.”
I took the first step immediately upon the open-
ing of the new temple in Albany. I abolished the
chagan and his sing-song, and substituted the plain
reading of the prayers and the Bible. This has now
been imitated generally. All the singing was done
by the choir, and I myself read the prayers. I wrote
strongly against the chagamim in the Asmonean, de-
nouncing these idlers, and insisted that the congre-
gations should engage teachers and preachers instead
of chaëanim and shoch'tim. I advised that competent
men should be brought from Germany to fill the
positions. I had declared war upon ignorance and
indolence, and conducted the campaign with reckless
boldness. This aroused the whole army of Jewish
priestlets against me. They became my deadly ene-
mies, even as the Christian clergy already was; hence
judgment was pronounced upon me long before my
book appeared.
My colleagues, who arrived later from Germany,
have repaid me fully for this service with kicks and
blows. As little as the Jews of America thought
of the Jewish authors of Germany before I made
their names known through the press, so little did
it occur to any one to call a preacher from Germany
until after I had advocated this for years; and the
first one to be called was my successor in Albany.
It was only after this that other congregations took
similar action. I made their bed, laid them in it,
and when they had become warmed they left no stone
REM.INIscENCES 22.5
unturned to discredit me before the public. True,
they did not succeed in this; for I am still alive, I
still write, and am still the spoiled darling of American
Jewry. But I did not wish to speak of this. I only
wanted to confess my rank stupidity. Instead of
gaining friends so as to assure my success as a young
author, I embittered the entire clergy. The liberal
party among Christians as well as Jews was so weak
that but little support could be looked for from that
side. …’
After I had quite finished the first volume of the
history from Abraham to the destruction of the first
temple, had worked myself almost to death, and had
fallen head over heels into debt, I wrote the intro-
duction, in which my standpoint is clearly stated,
and took the manuscript to New York in the spring
of 1853. In spite of letters of recommendation from
the most prominent men, such as Horace Greeley
and William H. Seward, no publisher was willing to
accept the work. I peddled it about for three days,
visited every book/publisher and book-dealer, was
received courteously everywhere; but as soon as
I had read my introduction, the decision was pro-
nounced as follows: “No one would buy such a god-
less book.” This was the general judgment. After
three days I returned home thoroughly humiliated.
ºf wanted to go to Philadelphia in order to quarrel
with Mrs. F., but my pride would not permit me
to acknowledge that I had failed.
During my return journey I felt very despondent.
The steamer Rip Van Winkle was too small for me. I
flitted about restless as a bat until the captain forced
I5
226 ISAAC M. WISE
me finally to play chess with him. “What in thunder
is the matter with you? You have lost your wits,”
he said to me. I then told him some impossible
stories, but not the truth. He opened one bottle
of champagne after the other, until he could no
longer distinguish the chessmen. We then concluded
to call it a drawn game. We now retired, but I did
not sleep. Morning dawned upon me lying still
awake. We arrived at Albany on time. I went home,
but I had not the courage to awaken my wife. I
was ashamed; for she had seen how steadily and
enthusiastically I had worked. She knew how I had
entered into the task with my whole heart and soul.
“She will take my failure to heart,” thought I. “Let
me put off for several hours my own shame and her
mortification.” When she did receive me, I was my
old self once again—calm, determined, the jolly com-
panion. I depicted wonderful things. She believed
all I said, and I rejoiced in her joy.
The scholars and literati of the library, who had
grown into a sort of mutual admiration society, met
in solemn council at noon. Whatever any one of
us wrote pleased all the others, although we criti-
cised and attacked one another mercilessly. Indig-
nation ran high at the mercenary souls of New York
who can not appreciate a soaring spirit, who do
everything for money and nothing for literature,
etc. Let Boston be tried. Boston has better taste,
nobler feeling. Wood suggested that I pass as an
American Christian in order to satisfy the stupid
mob; but no definite conclusion was reached. I real-
ized erelong that I would have to help myself, or
REM.INISCENCES 227
else give up the whole project. I wanted to be sure
first of all, whether my work had any merit. I read
portions of the manuscript to celebrated scholars,
and then handed it for examination to impartial lit-
erary experts, with the definite understanding that
no corrections were to be made. “If it is not good
enough as it stands, it had better not be printed at
all.” After I had been assured by competent judges
that the book ought to be printed, and Amos Dean
had agreed with this decision, it did not take me
long to make up my mind. “Since I have begun to
write on Jewish matters, I shall not be dependent
on the good will of each and every wretched pub-
lisher. I have no money,” so my thoughts ran, “but
there is money enough in the world. I have written
a book, it is true, that will shock the whole world;
but they will have to pay for it nevertheless. The
free, unhampered thought must out into the world.
If Judaism in America must depend on the calcula-
tions of a few publishers, it can never amount to any-
thing. Forward, then, in God’s name.” •
The next morning I closed a contract with a
printer for two thousand copies of a book of four
hundred pages octavo, to be printed on good paper,
and to be neatly bound. The contract called for
about two thousand dollars more than I possessed.
While the book was in press, I told my friends of
my rash undertaking. The faithful ones, who had
stood manfully and fraternally by me in all my strug-
gles—my old guard—did not fail me now. Within
a few days several members of my congregation had
subscribed sufficient to cover the whole indebtedness,
228 Isaac M. WISE
and had deposited the money for me in bank. Two
thousand dollars was an enormous amount of money
for Albany at that time, and every one understood
that my undertaking was exceedingly risky; but my
friends did not leave me in the lurch for all that. I
may be permitted to say now that there was no one
among all the Jews that had emigrated to America
who had to fight such a coterie of bitter enemies as
I; but, on the other hand, there is none other who
can boast of having found such a host of true, stead-
fast, and intimate friends as did I.
In the summer of 1853 I was received into the
company of Faust and Gutenberg's magicians. I
had never learned witchcraft, it is true, nor was the
secret power revealed to me of conjuring the devil;
but I was initiated into the mystic brotherhood of
the printers and typesetters. I was named a knight
of the black art at J. Munsel's, No. 78 State Street,
Albany. It cost me much beer and furnished me
much sport, but I was an apt pupil and made rapid
studies in the lofty art, so that I soon mastered the
secrets of the letter-case and proof-reading. Cor-
recting proof, reading proof, or whatever may be
the technical term for this noble business, was my
chief occupation that summer. Goethe tells us that
he who never ate his bread in tears does not know
the heavenly powers. Well, even Goethe did not
know everything. Whoever has not read proofs set
up by obstinate typesetters, who pay no attention
to a correction, though it be made ten times, but trust
to Providence that it may turn out all right, he knows
you not, ye heavenly powers. Since that time, a
REMINISCENCES 229
quarter of a century ago, I have never succeeded in
getting away from the atmosphere of the printing-
room. I have often execrated Gutenberg and all
his apprentices. Whoever has given himself into the
power of magic can never free himself from its bonds.
The insane longing to consume printers’ ink pursues
him like an evil fate.
While I was being initiated into the black art, I
did another foolish thing. I had engaged several
traveling agents to secure subscribers for the book.
In order to facilitate their work, I sent proof-sheets
to various newspapers, so that the book was de-
famed sufficiently before it left the binder. Every
scribbler attacked the unfortunate volume. A host
of pious souls prodded me with pens and pencils,
as though Satan had let loose all the legions of hell
against me. They did not criticise the book; they
found no mistakes, faults, nor errors in it; but they
complained, howled, and lamented in ear-splitting
fashion over my godlessness, infidelity, and irreligios-
ity. They called me heretic, an un-Jewish Jew, an
anti-Christian, a German rationalist, a disciple of
Spinoza, of Thomas Paine, and the devil; in short,
they depicted me and my book in so monstrous a
manner that I was compelled to laugh often and
heartily at the prevailing stupidity. The Christians
were even more bitter than the Jews. I was pleased
beyond measure that rabid fanaticism could not
point out a single mistake nor convict the foreigner .
of any errors in English style. I laughed at the man-
ner in which my learning was exaggerated. On this
account I was pronounced to be a most dangerous
23o Isaac M. WISE
person. It appeared to me extremely comical to find
among the raging flood of condemnatory newspaper
articles a letter from Theodore Parker, who praised
the book highly, but regretted that it was too ortho-
dox in tone; while Dr. Illowy, of blessed memory,
published in the Occident a bull of excommunication
in Hebrew against me and my book. Not a soul
had the courage to take my part, and I was too
proud to do so myself, until finally a physician—
Dr. Arnold, of Baltimore—published an article in the
Occident with the heading:
ºwnw Tºy nºnwºº
“The Philistines are upon thee, Samson.” This
encouraged me somewhat, and I wrote thereupon
several insignificant rejoinders in the Asmonean.
But wherefore this hue and cry? I had declared
in the introduction that miracles do not belong to
history, and I proceeded to explain the miracles as
natural events. I described the revelation at Sinai
word for word according to the sources, and added
that the event was described thus in the Bible, but
made no further comment. But this was not my
worst sin in the eyes of my opponents. I wrote
Jewish history from the democratic standpoint. In
this I differed from all my predecessors; hence the
monarchy was unjustified and contrary to the laws
of Moses. If this was true, the Messianic belief of
both Jews and Christians was without foundation.
Therefore I had no reason to palliate the faults and
weaknesses of David, Solomon, and the whole dy-
nasty. I exposed all the intrigues of the court, and
REMINISCENCES 23 I
pinned my faith to the prophets who had thundered
against the kingdom and the kings. The faithful
believers could not forgive me this, and yet I do
not retract one word even to this day; and I have
also lived to see how the twenty-five hundred copies
of my book have worked a revolution within Judaism
and Christianity. To-day the book is orthodox in
very truth, as Theodore Parker asserted at that time;
but at the time of its appearance it fell into the ortho-
dox camp like a veritable bomb. It frightened the
saints out of their wits, and the half-saints wrapped
themselves in the mantle of sanctity and cried aloud:
“See how holy we are, we who have not only not
written such a book, but none at all ! We have not
only not read this book, but none at all.” The host
of sycophants increased from day to day, until all
had become canonized and my book had been
hounded to death.
But the seriousness of the situation became ap-
parent particularly when the book was placed on sale.
It had been defamed, the entire clergy was arrayed
against me, and no liberal people seemed to be about.
My agents sold scarcely sufficient copies to pay their
expenses; the book lay in the bookstores unsold,
and I was in dire straits. I had debts like an Aus-
trian staff officer, and no prospect of paying them.
What distressed me most was that I could not pay
my friends the money they had advanced; and al-
though my creditors were very lenient, and even
offered me more money, I could not sleep for many
insensate folly.
nights, and I began to quarrel with myself and º
2’
232 ISAAC M. WISE
During all this time I had not heard a word from
Mrs. F. She had spent the heated season in Scot-
land. I received a letter from her from Edinburgh
at the beginning of August. She sent me a banknote
of one hundred pounds sterling, and wrote me that
if this were not sufficient, there was more at my dis-
posal. She had gathered from the press that my
book would not sell for two years, and she could
well imagine my embarrassing monetary situation.
This was followed by sympathetic, heartfelt expres-
sions. She pitied me mercilessly, and in addition sent
me her tears, her sighs, her hearty sympathy.
This was too much. I could endure everything—
blows and kicks, mockery and derision, struggle and
defeat, wounds and pains, anything—but not pity;
my pride rebelled against this. I wrote her a very
cordial letter, thanked her for her kind attention,
and returned her the money lest it might be said that
I was an object of pity to my friends.
This, however, neither changed my situation nor
alleviated my cares. J'The worst feature of the case
was that my wife discovered the true state of affairs
and understood my misery in spite of all the care I
took to hide the newspapers, and in spite also of my
assumed jollity. She worried much more than I, be-
cause her disposition was milder than mine, and she
could not hide her grief from me. She wanted to
comfort me, and in doing so she laid bare the wounds
of her own heart. This was exceedingly distressing
for me. I found her in tears at one time. “What
is the matter, dear child?” “You are so good, and
the world treats you so shamefully,” she answered.
REMINISCENCES 233
It was as though I had received a dagger thrust.
I could not overcome her mournful feeling either
by flattery or kisses. I began to ponder and to con-
sider: Is not the world too wicked to appreciate
the truth? Is it not more sensible to look out for
myself and to leave everything else to God? Here
I thought of my friends, my faithful guard, and I
had to acknowledge that the world is not so very
wicked after all. Thereupon I had to confess to
myself that the people were not at fault; for they
had not harmed me, but that it was I who had thrown
down the gauntlet to bigotry, Orthodoxy, yes, to
the whole pious crew. These were only protecting
themselves. This is not wicked. Hence I had only
myself and my own folly to blame. True, I was in-
censed at bigotry, but not at the bigots who desired
to defeat their opponent. /
*3
, , ºr—“
****
While in this mood, I began to consider how I
could improve my condition. “The situation shall
and must change,” I mused. “It is true that I have
failed, but the old God still lives.” While I was mak-
ing new plans, I received a letter at the end of
August, 1853, from an unknown gentleman, Mr.
Jacob Goodheart, of Cincinnati, in which he asked
me whether and on what conditions I would accept
a call from the B’ne Yeshurun congregation of Cin-
cinnati. He assured me that I would be elected
unanimously if the conditions would be agreeable.
“Do the people in the Far West not read the
papers? Do they not know how discredited I am?”
I looked upon the letter as a sorry jest. The congre-
gation B'ne Yeshurun had quite a reputation, a fact
234 Is AAC M. WISE
not unknown to me as editor of the Asmonean. Be-
sides, I was personally acquainted with Abraham
Aub, the deceased Griebel, Elias Mayer, and Lewis
Abraham; and through them I had become quite
familiar with Jewish conditions in Cincinnati. How
can any congregation, only two of whose members
I know personally, think for one moment of elect-
ing me as their rabbi in the present condition of
affairs? The letter, methought, can be but a sorry
jest. It occurred to me that there were two Albanians
who were well acquainted in Cincinnati. I went to
them—viz., Lederer and Strasser—and inquired con-
cerning a certain Jacob Goodheart. “He is an hon-
orable gentleman,” said both of them, “a merchant
in good standing.” Perhaps some one forged his
name, thought I, and went away. I then remembered
that I had met a Mr. Goodheart in New York at
Lehmayer's several times, and felt that I now had
a definite clue. I took the envelope, sent it to New
York to Moritz Lehmayer, and requested him to
inform me whether he recognized the handwriting.
I received a reply by return of mail to the effect that
it was the handwriting of Jacob Goodheart, of Cin-
cinnati, and that he was worthy of my fullest confi-
dence. Now I began to ponder: “What does Provi-
dence wish me to do? The temple and the congre-
gation here are built up and firmly established. My
mission here is ended. Any one else can finish the
work. I have three children, and am burdened with
debts. Cincinnati lies in the center of the country.
There in the West is a new world that comes into
but little contact with the East. The people there
REM.INIscENCES 235
are young and aspiring and not yet cast into a fixed
mold. Now I understand what I have to do. I shall
go to Cincinnati, start a new weekly journal, give
Judaism a new and powerful impetus, and avenge
myself for the good of humanity on the narrow re-
ligious bigots, so that they will think of me for a
century.” My resolution was formed. All that was
necessary was the consent of my wife. I pictured
for her the present and the future with all the elo-
quence at my command. Carried away by my en-
thusiasm, she gave her consent. I wrote to Mr.
Goodheart, and informed him that I would accept
a life position in the B’ne Yeshurun congregation,
and would entertain no other proposition. At that
time there was not a single Jewish clergyman in
America who had been appointed for life. I wrote
further that I would not preach any trial sermons,
that I could enter upon the position not sooner than
six months after I had resigned from my present
post, and that my salary and my position must be
such as to make me independent of any gifts from
the rich or the poor members of my congregation.
I despatched the letter, and thought that if the con-
gregation accepted these conditions, it was sincere
in its desire to have me despite my failure, stupidity,
and bad reputation.
“Five days later I received a telegram signed by
Jacob Goodheart, “You were elected unanimously
last night at your own terms.” It seemed to me as
though I had dropped from the clouds. I could
scarcely believe my eyes. When I read the telegram
to my wife, she said, with tear-bedimmed eyes, “Your
236 Isaac M. Wise
reputation is not so bad as it would appear.” “And
the world is not as wicked as you thought,” I wanted
to add, but I did not. We were both happy as kings,
not so much because of the position, but because of
the manner in which it had been tendered me; for
this was a practical proof that the situation was not
half as bad as we had feared. The world was still
full of hope.
XII
WO days after I had received the above-named
telegram, the official and unofficial letters arrived
from Cincinnati. The official communications,
signed by Moritz Fischel, the secretary of the B’ne
Yeshurun congregation, and by Lehmann Hollstein,
the secretary of the Talmid Yelodim Institute, noti-
fied me that I had been unanimously elected rabbi of
the congregation and superintendent of the institute,
and that the congregation had imposed no conditions
whatsoever, so that I was enabled to enter upon both
positions unhampered and untrammeled. This was
quite a step in advance; for at that time the bad
custom of prescribing certain duties and conditions
for the newly-elected official was in vogue. Another
triumphant achievement consisted in the fact that
I had been elected for life, the first time this had
taken place in America, and further, at a salary of
fifteen hundred dollars, which was five hundred dol-
lars more than any other of my colleagues in Amer-
ica received. Jacob Goodheart, Henry Mack, and
others, informed me in private communications that
my election by the B’ne Yeshurun congregation was
considered a victory for reform, and that the ortho-
dox element without the congregation mourned and
prophesied disaster. It was very desirable, they
wrote, for me to come to Cincinnati during the
237
238 ISAAC M. WISE
winter, to keep the enthusiasm alive, for the following
reasons: This orthodox element exerted considerable
influence on some members of the congregation;
further, six months were to transpire between my
election and my assumption of the Office; besides,
the congregation did not know me personally, had
never heard me speak, and had elected me only be-
cause of my reputation.
I now resigned my position in Albany, the
resignation to take effect in six months. I requested
my friends not to attempt to induce me to change
my resolution; and I succeeded in convincing the
leading men that the cause of progress in Judaism,
as well as the welfare of my family, forced me to
take this step. We finally agreed to advertise the
position in Germany, and to elect for three years the
candidate who would be recommended by Drs. Phil-
ippson and Stein. The congregation indorsed this
action. Thereupon I wrote to Cincinnati and ac-
cepted the two positions.
When my opponents learned this, they were fu-
rious, and denounced me and the heretical congre-
gation of Cincinnati in the bitterest terms. I re-
mained silent, and resigned as editor of the Asmonean,
but only to sharpen my weapons, so as to have them
ready for use at the proper time. “Wait, you miser-
able fellows, wait,” I mused. “When my time shall
have come, I will belabor you with blows that will
bring you to your senses.” Wonderful to say, all
this caused my book to be sought for more than
ever. Thus my financial condition began to improve,
REMINISCENCES 239
and I was enabled to commence to liquidate my
debts.
I recognized clearly that I would have to go to
Cincinnati during the winter. Upon receiving invi-
tations from various societies to attend their anni-
versary celebrations at the end of December (Cha-
nukkah), I determined to go to Cincinnati at that
time and to sojourn there several weeks.
Shortly before journeying West, I went to New
York. They did not know there that there were four
congregations in Cincinnati with a strong reform
party. They knew only that there was a powerful
Orthodox party in Cincinnati. Cincinnati was pic-
tured to me as an orthodox center, and one of my
dearest friends said to me: “If you want to go to
Cincinnati, buy at Önce new tºfillin with large battim,
a tallith, and a thick macheor; for you will need them
all.” I did not follow his advice, but I went to Cin-
cinnati in December. Dr. A. Rosenfeld, who had
practiced medicine in Cincinnati a short time,
and Isidor Kalisch, rabbi in Cleveland, traveled west-
ward with me. It was very cold. The frozen ground
was covered with a deep snow, but all went well till
we arrived near Erie, in Northern Pennsylvania.
Here we found the tracks torn up for a distance of
six miles from the town, and the bridges burned down
by an enraged mob because of a quarrel with the
railroad company. After sitting for several hours
in the cold, we were packed into wagons like herring,
and were driven for two or three hours in the biting
atmosphere to Erie. I was taken sick, and hesitated
24O IsAAC M. WISE
about continuing the journey. Rabbi Kalisch had
been absent from his family for a long time, and
had to leave that same evening. Dr. Rosenfeld and
I remained in Erie. It was fortunate that the phy-
sician was with me. He treated me during the night
so successfully that it was possible to continue the
journey the next afternoon, but only as far as Cleve-
land. We spent the night with Rabbi Kalisch. The
physician continued his treatment during the night,
and the next morning, Thursday, we were able to
continue our journey to Cincinnati, where we arrived
late at night and went to the old Woodruff House,
opposite the National Theater, since I had apprised
no one of my coming. I wished to avoid all excite-
ment and formality. I sent my card the next morn-
ing to the presiding officers of the congregation—
Marcus Fechheimer and Jacob L. Miller—and to the
president of the Talmid Yelodim Institute, Solomon
Friedmann. The Reception Committee came at nine
o'clock, and took me to the house of Marcus Fech-
heimer, corner Longworth (known as Center Street
in those days) and Race Streets. Dr. Rosenfeld was
taken in charge by Mr. Solomon Levi.
My reception seemed very hearty and well-meant,
and I felt at home at once in the Fechheimer house.
That very day and evening all the prominent mem-
bers of the congregation visited me and welcomed
me heartily. It is difficult to determine at this time
what impression I made upon the people. I was
thin; my face was pale, my eyes were deep set and
encircled with blue rings; my hair was long and flow-
ing; my glances were fiery, my lips colorless; my
REMINISCENCES 24. I
figure was bent and insignificant. I spoke only when
I had to, and even then very little. I never experi-
enced the desire to make myself agreeable. I had
weaned myself almost altogether from association
with the world. I am willing to wager that the people
took me for an out-and-out Schlemihl, for a frank
and exceedingly amiable woman who, sad to say,
is no more, and with whom I became acquainted
the very first day, said to me on the following Sun-
day: “If one sees you in the pulpit and then meets
you outside of the synagogue, one would scarcely
recognize you; you look so different.” It then oc-
curred to me that the lady thought that outside of
the synagogue I looked like a schlemihl. I am con-
strained to say further that the departed looked like
Mrs. F., and spoke and acted as she did; but she was
much younger. We remained friends till the sad
day when I had to follow her to the grave. A tear
to her memory ! Her name was Lena Stix. She
was a noble woman.
Although I was well pleased with everything, no-
tably my unanimous election and the standpoint of
the congregation, as it had been explained to me in
private letters; still I could not dismiss from my
mind what had been told me in New York about
the religious conditions in Cincinnati. “Let me be-
come better acquainted with the people, let me gain
their good will, if possible, and then discuss religious
principles with them and come to a clear understand-
ing before I bring my family here and enter upon a
new field of labor.” I determined to be discreet and
circumspect this time. On the Sabbath everybody
I6
24.2 IsAAc M. WISE
was in the synagogue. Although the saints who laid
two pair of t'fillin daily had gone to their friends and
had warned them not to go to the synagogue, since
to hear me was worse than sh'mad, nevertheless
there were as many people in the synagogue as could
find room. In the absence of the cantor, Mr. Solo-
mon Levi conducted the services in an old-fashioned
but very dignified manner. The shamash did excel-
lently well on that day; for every mitzvah brought
a good price, and, instead of seven, nine men were
called up to the Torah exceptionally, each one of
whom shmodered liberally. The whole service ap-
peared droll to me, although the people impressed me
very favorably. I had resolved to be careful and
considerate, and I remained true to my resolution.
I scattered so many blossoms and flowers upon the
congregation from the pulpit, used so many flowers
of speech and so much poetical imagery that there
were enough bouquets to go around, and every one
went home bedecked. I had not said one word about
principles; but my reputation as a speaker was estab-
lished at once, my fortune was made; even the semi-
orthodox were won over. I was satisfied with my
success, and the congregation was overjoyed at not
having been deceived in its choice. They desired to
have a preacher who could speak well in both Eng-
lish and German, and they believed that they had
succeeded in procuring such a one. The beginning
was good, and on Saturday afternoon I was praised
and complimented very much and very extrava-
gantly.
Perhaps I would have been discreet and polite
REM.INIscENCE's 243
some time longer, and would have tried to conciliate
the Orthodox party, had I not been provoked by a
certain tactless person, who did not know that I
never refused to accept a challenge. Let me describe
the incident:
The benevolent society celebrated its anniversary
on Sunday evening. Covers were laid for about two
hundred people at Bernheimer's. The members of
the various congregations were present in goodly
numbers. Food and drink were good, and at the
close of the meal the traditional n'óarekh Zelohemu was
recited. Immediately thereafter the business of the
evening was broached. A number of toasts had
been officially announced. I was to speak on char-
ity, and the donations were to be collected after my
address. Two speakers were to precede and two to
follow me. The second toast was “Our Country,”
responded to by , an ultra-Orthodox English-
man and a practiced speaker. He said not one word
on the subject assigned to him, but devoted his re-
marks altogether to a scathing denunciation of the
progressionists and the world-improvers, of the de-
sire for novelty and sensation, so that all eyes were
directed towards me. The English element was still
very prominent in Cincinnati at that time, and was
well represented at the banquet.
After he had taken his seat triumphantly, the
toast on charity was announced, and I was introduced.
I began as follows, without one prefatory word:
“Once upon a time the frogs complained that they
could find no rest nor peace; nay, more, that they
could not sleep, for the earth revolved 11nceasingly.
244 IsAAC M. WISE
Some wise frogs interested themselves in the matter,
and a general meeting of the frogs was called. The
complaints grew louder and louder, until finally all
the frogs were convinced of the justice of the same,
and thereupon the weeping and wailing became uni-
versal. A wise old frog now took the floor and said:
‘Wherefore wail and complain P Let us try to think
of some remedy whereby we may remove the evil.”
The frogs became silent and hearkened. The wise
frog continued: ‘Let us devise ways and means to
bring our plaint before the throne of the God of
justice, and ask him for relief.” “But how can we
reach the throne of the God of justice that is so high
and far away?’ asked an humble little frog. “We can
not leap high into the air; for we are only frogs.”
This called forth renewed wailing and weeping. The
wise old frog arose once again and ordered the as-
sembly to keep quiet. The frogs obeyed, and he
spoke: ‘At night, after the scorching sun has sunk
behind the mountains and the peaceful evening re-
freshes all creatures with its cooling breezes, all
hearts beat kindly and glow with love. At such
a time truly the all-just God will be merciful also to
us frogs, his creation. Let us be united, and we
can accomplish anything. Let us unanimously and
unitedly croak loudly and continuously after sunset
in this fashion: “All-just God, we pray thee to let
the earth stand still for six hours after revolving
for eighteen hours, in order that thy harassed and
troubled frogs may enjoy rest, quiet, and sleep.””
The glorious suggestion was greeted with jubilant
shouts. All frogdom took an oath of fealty and
REMINISCENCES 24.5
jumped about comically. The frogs scattered in all
directions, and kept their oath faithfully. As often
as after a hot summer day the evening, with its soft
breezes and its balmy zephyrs, descended upon earth
and breathed love and mildness into all hearts, the
host of frogs came forth from the swamps and
croaked and croaked loudly and clearly: ‘O thou
all-just Creator of all, let the earth stand still for
six hours in order that thy frogs may sleep undis-
turbed ” The frogs croak continually, the frogs croak
still, and the earth—well, it moves none the less.”
It is true that I emphasized the closing words; the
glasses clashed, but louder still was the salvo of ap-
plause. This grew until some one cried out, “Hurrah,
hurrah, the frogs are worsted ſ” With this the shouts
began anew. I recognized my opportunity. I said
that this was not the place to expound principles;
what was needed was money for the poor. I then
spoke on charity. My words moved the assembly,
and the result was all that could be desired. More
money was collected than on any previous similar
occasion, and I had learned to know my people.
The following Wednesday evening was a gala
occasion for the B’ne Yeshurum Congregation. The
anniversary of the Talmid Yelodim Institute was
celebrated with pomp. Covers were laid for about
three hundred people in the Allemania Hall. The
ladies and gentlemen, the teachers and the invited
guests, assembled in the reception-room. At eight
o'clock all took their seats at table. There was an
abundance of everything. Beauty graced the board,
and a joyous spirit pervaded the gathering. Speech-
246 IsAAC M. WISE
making followed the banqueting. The speeches were
good and sensible. The toast assigned to me was,
“Israel, the prince of God, the banner-bearer of eter-
nal truth and eternal progress.” I was in good trim.
I was enthusiastically received, and spoke as though
I were at home. I said briefly all that I had to say
about reform and progress in Judaism. I did not
omit a single important point, and supported my
statements by historical precedents.
The storm of applause which followed my speech
tended less to convince me of the impression which
I had made (for I was used to applause) than did
the two following points: First, after my speech,
voluntary subscriptions were collected for the sup-
port of the school. Twice as much was collected
as on any similar occasion. The officers of the school
were highly elated. Secondly, the next toast was,
“Our Guest,” etc. Mr. Nathan Bloom, of Louisville,
was asked to speak for the invited guests. In the
course of his remarks, Mr. Bloom said that now all
things were topsy-turvy in the heavens. Formerly
the stars moved from west to east; but now the
star of the east moved westward. This sentiment
called forth vigorous applause, so that I could no
longer doubt that the assembly was satisfied with
me, although I had spoken quite unreservedly.
After these two festivals I felt completely at home.
I permitted myself to be feasted, banqueted, lionized,
introduced; in short, I took everything good-natur-
edly, and made friends with everybody. I preached
in German for the first time in Cincinnati on the fol-
lowing Saturday. I set forth clearly, emphatically,
REM.INIsCENCES 247
and fully what I thought of the future of Judaism
in America, why and wherefore reforms seemed to
me to be necessary, and how the same were to be
introduced. I had finished, and thought of going
home the following week. But this did not agree
with the wishes of the powers that were in Cincin-
nati. In the afternoon two committees visited me:
one from Bethel Lodge, No. 4, I. O. B. B., who re-
quested me to deliver a public address on Sunday
evening in the lodge-rooms. My friend, Marcus
Fechheimer, winked significantly, and I accepted
the invitation. “You will find quite a different class
of people there, whom you did not meet at the ban-
quets,” said Fechheimer. “Their good-will and
friendship will be of use to us, although I must say
that thus far the intellectual element of Cincinnati
has not affiliated itself in large numbers with the
B’ne Brith Lodge.”
Thereupon a very imposing committee of the old
and respected congregation, B’ne Israel, the grand-
mother of all the Jewish congregations in the West,
appeared. The congregation was at that time strictly
Orthodox, English, and very aristocratic, although
quite a large German and liberal element was be-
ginning to make its influence felt. I was invited to
preach on the following Sabbath in the synagogue
of the B’ne Israel congregation. Naturally I had to
accept this honor, and therefore had to remain a
week longer.
The room of the Bethel Lodge was crowded on
Sunday evening. I idealized the B’ne Brith Order.
Some of the saints who were in attendance were
248 Isaac M. WISE
teased and laughed at; but the holiest of them all
declared that, although he would not go into the
synagogue to listen to me, still he came to hear
me here because he wanted to satisfy his curiosity,
and to see what the golden calf about which all IS-
rael was dancing looked like. This man became
an intimate friend of mine later on.
During the week invitations galore to dinners
and feasts flowed in. The week was a veritable round
of pleasures. Among other entertainments there
was one arranged by the B’ne Brith at the residence
of Mr. William Renau. On that occasion Mr. Isaac
Marks, alias “Ice Marks,” made a remarkable
speech. He came in late, and heard only a few of
the compliments which were showered upon me. He
was called upon to say something, and offered the
following toast, “Love me little, love me long; open
a dozen bottles of wine at my expense, and bring
plenty of ice.” His words were greeted with shouts
of laughter; but he knew well why he spoke as he
did. More than one individual had been praised and
glorified and raised to the skies in Cincinnati, only
to be neglected later on. I understood the man very
well, and have remembered his laconic remarks.
I preached in the large B’ne Israel synagogue
in Cincinnati before a very large congregation on
the last Sabbath of the year 1853 on the teleology
of Genesis. I laid down the proposition that the chief
purpose of the author of the Book of Genesis was
the development of the moral idea as the introduc-
tion to the account of the revelation. Since he wrote
family history, and not family romance, he neces-
REMINISCENCES 249
sarily had to portray all the faults of his characters;
for there has never been, in fact, there can not be,
a sinless human being. Therefore, although the
Book of Genesis contains some immoral episodes,
nevertheless, culminating in the story of Joseph, it
portrays the whole development of morality, which
has become the feature of the doctrine of revelation,
and thus proves the teleology of morality despite
all the faults and weaknesses of the actors. I had
no reason for concealing or excusing the faults of
the patriarchs and their wives, and was in the po-
sition to declare that Moses, the embodiment of
national morality, was the logical successor of Jo-
seph, the embodiment of individual morality. The
object of my sermon was to establish the following
conclusion: Reason is the final court of appeal in
matters of morals; for this was at that time a burn-
ing question in the theological world. The sermon
was well received, and praised even by the orthodox,
for the simple reason that the far-reaching conse-
quences of the statement were not understood. If
reason possesses a higher authority than that which
is written, religion and morality would have to be
established on other foundations. The orthodox
party seemed to have overlooked this altogether at
that time.
The B’ne Yeshurun congregation assembled in
their synagogue on the afternoon of that same day,
and I bade them farewell. I introduced my address
by saying how pleased I was with Cincinnati, and
by thanking them for the friendly and cordial treat-
ment I had received. The body of the address was
25o ISAAC M. WISE
devoted to telling the congregation that I had given
free and full expression to my opinions, which must
now be clearly known to them all, and that prog-
ress, and not retrogression, must be the watchword
of the future. I added that I never force my opin-
ions upon the congregation, that I never command
nor sulk, that I never interfere with the manage-
ment of congregational affairs, but devote all my
energies to teaching the people and to attempting
to convince them of the truth of that which I con-
sider good, true, and useful; that I never recede from
this, nor permit myself to be disconcerted by friend or
foe. I bade the congregation notify me before the
coming spring in case they should not be satisfied
with me, and I would remain in Albany; nor would
I feel insulted, hurt, nor humiliated. We would re-
main good friends; for I could not expect everybody
to share my convictions.
I left for Albany on Monday morning, and arrived
there on Tuesday evening. I had to tell my wife
all the particulars of my stay in Cincinnati. I re-
ceived the official resolutions from Cincinnati sev-
eral days later. They teemed with words of praise
and satisfaction, and closed with the assurance that
they looked forward to my coming with joyous an-
ticipation. The die was cast, and I began to make
preparations to leave Albany in the spring. I suc-
ceeded in canceling all but a few hundred dollars of
my indebtedness during the winter by the sale of
my book. I owed this money to my intimate friends,
who did not press me for it. I was ready to remove
to Cincinnati with my family by Passover, 1854.
REM.INISCENCES 25 I
I delivered my farewell address at the temple on
the last day of Passover. I will not attempt to de-
scribe the scene. It was a day of mourning. I was
attached to Albany with all the fibers of my heart.
It was my first home in the New World. I had so
many true and tried friends in the old city on the
Hudson. Every child, every tree, was dear to me;
but my school-days were over; I had to go out into
the world. I had attended two schools in Albany
for nearly eight years: the school of experience, of
bitter struggles and brilliant triumphs, and the school
of learning, whose lessons I had learned with tire-
less industry. I had no fortune, but yet I was very
rich; for I had many warm friends, a wife and four
children, much self-reliance, and a firm faith in God
and the truth. A dreaming optimist and idealist,
such as I always was, requires no more than this
to be happy. He who lives for love requires no
gold. What need has he of precious stones for
whom truth and progress are the highest good? The
materialist can not comprehend, nor can the cold-
blooded realist understand this; and yet there is but
one source of bliss on earth; namely, the self-content-
ment of a loving, investigating, striving spirit, which
is always dwelling on the heights of idealism and
optimism.
Upon my return home from the service I found
my wife in tears, and I wept with her. These were
the tears of farewell that I shed for my Albany.
Thereupon I preached a very sentimental and edi-
fying sermon to my wife. Fifteen minutes later I
was my old self, cheerful, happy, and free. The fare-
252 IsAAc M. WISE
well meal, the farewell toasts, the farewell gifts, the
farewell speeches, and the farewell tears followed
each other in rapid succession. I endured all these
things well and courageously. The scholars, literati,
camp-followers, bluestockings, and literary hang-
ers-on of the library presented me with a large parch-
ment roll, which contained the words: “Farewell.
May God protect you! Our love goes with you.”
This sentiment was signed by one hundred and
thirty-four names. I felt now indeed that my
school-days were over for good.
I left quietly and secretly the next morning, April
2Oth, journeyed to Syracuse, and thence to Roches-
ter. My brother-in-law, Edward Bloch, had prom-
ised to follow two days later with my family, and
we were to meet in Rochester. I devoted the two
days to my own purposes. I had already asked my
friends in New York and Albany whether they would
subscribe for a Jewish weekly which I intended to
establish, and had received encouraging replies. .
About two hundred had subscribed, and many,
among others Bernheimer Bros., promised to adver-
tise in its columns. I made similar efforts in Syra-
cuse and Rochester, and succeeded beyond all ex-
pectations.
I saw Simon Tuska and his father for the first
time during these days. Neither is now in the land
of the living. Simon Tuska had conducted a corre-
spondence with me, and had become very dear to
me. He was but a youth at that time, and was pur-
suing a course of studies at the Rochester Univer-
sity with the purpose of preparing himself for the
REM.INIscENces 253
ministry. He was very eager to enter the rabbinical
profession, which was exceedingly discredited in
those days, and displayed more enthusiasm than I
cared to see; for I feared, as I told him, that he
would become as unthinking an enthusiast as I was,
particularly as he had taken me as his model. Tuska
made my stay in Rochester very pleasant. I made
the acquaintance of the most prominent Jews and
of the professors, and formed friendships which are
still strong.
I met my dear ones at the station on the
24th. They were all well and cheerful, and
we journeyed together westward. My wife was
charmed with the changing scenes through which
we passed. I also was in a happy frame of mind,
notably when we rolled through the rich and bloom-
ing State of Ohio on the 25th. All the peach, plum,
and cherry trees were in full blossom, displaying
their pageantry of rich colors in the mild spring
sunshine. The fields were full of life and bustle,
dotted everywhere with flocks of sheep and playful
lambs. It was a charming picture. My children
shouted with glee. My wife was most happy, and
chatted on a hundred subjects; but, for all that, I
could not dispel the melancholy feelings that pos-
sessed me. “The school-days are over. I am enter-
ing upon life a second time. A new chapter of my
biography is opening. What lies hidden in the lap
of the future?” I grew frightened. It seemed to
me as though black and storm-fraught clouds were
ascending on the horizon, and I seemed to hear
the distant thunder roll.
254 IsAAC M. WISE
At noon I sat down in a corner of the station at
Columbus, and wrote as follows: “I am troubled with
anxious forebodings, now that I approach my new
home, which I will reach in a few hours. I can not
pierce the veil of the future. God wills that I should
not. Wherefore this fear? Is it the echo of the past,
or a magical voice, from the future? O Lord God,
thou alone knowest.” Many of my readers may rec-
ognize that the thoughts and feelings entertained
by me at this time appear in the introduction to the
memorial service, but they do not know that the
principal passages of that service were written on
the train between Columbus and Cincinnati in
April, 1854.
We reached the Queen City of the West safely
at night, and found temporary quarters, where we
were hospitably received. The president, Marcus
Fechheimer, introduced me to the Board of Trustees
at a meeting convened for this purpose on April
26, 1854. Mr. Solomon Friedmann, president of the
school, introduced me to the Talmid Yelodim Insti-
tute as superintendent, so that I was installed de facto
into office and position.
PART II
255
I
PON assuming office in the B’ne Yeshurun con-
gregation and the Talmid Yelodim Institute at
the end of April, 1854, I found myself not one whit
different from what I had been eight years before.
I was the same incorrigible idealist and optimist,
enthusiast and world-improver, full of great world-
revolutionizing and world-redeeming plans, without
any executive ability, and without sufficient insight
or discretion. In my imagination I accomplished
everything quickly, surely, and finely. Because I
was able to write and speak in two languages, and
because I had been called to Cincinnati on the
strength of my literary reputation, I persuaded my-
self that I would be able to accomplish any and every
thing, and that all that was necessary was to nod
my head a la Zeus. There were two things particu-
larly that had become fixed ideas in my mind; viz.,
that I had talent for all things, and that I was a
child of destiny. Naturally, when I acted upon my
theories, I had ample opportunities to discover that
I had often reckoned without my host.
Although I was very fiery, thoughtless, and rash,
as a general thing, yet I was very moderate, consid-
erate, and argumentative (as far as externalities were
concerned) in the pulpit, and chiefly for the follow-
ing reasons: I was the only Jewish preacher in Cin-
I7 257
258 ISAAC M. WISE
cinnati, or, rather, in the entire West. Therefore I
had to address every Saturday a very large but very
mixed audience. My hearers comprised, not only
members of the three other congregations of Cin-
cinnati, but also the inhabitants of near and distant
towns, because business brought many merchants
of the West and South to Cincinnati at that time.
I was therefore compelled to speak tactfully and care-
fully if I wished to succeed, and I was determined
to succeed. I was fortunate in finding a splendid
element in the congregation—men who, without any
great exertion on my part, desired, favored, and act-
ively supported every forward and progressive move-
ment. I met with no obstacles in the congregation
itself; everything was peaceful and harmonious. The
congregation consisted for the most part of natives
of Bavaria, Wurtemberg, and Baden, who had been
favorable to reform even before they had left their
old homes. As early as the second Sabbath of my
incumbency, the president, Marcus Fechheimer,
without calling a meeting for the purpose, made the
following announcement in the synagogue: Since
English and German sermons are preached alter-
nately during the morning service, the piutim have
become superfluous; they are therefore abolished till
further notice. This settled the fate of the piuţim:
they were never again made the subject of discus-
sion. Soon thereafter the sale of the mitzvoth was
abolished. I recognized that all things would turn
out right if I would be content to make haste slowly.
The introduction of a choir was not accomplished
so readily. Upon my approaching the parnass on
REM.INIscENCES 259
this subject, he was free to confess that he did not
consider it feasible, because a number of attempts
had already been made in vain, and the congregation
had spent several hundred dollars without being able
to establish a choir. I was assured, however, that
the necessary funds for the purpose would be forth-
coming if I would pledge myself to bring the project
to a successful issue. Thereupon I went to work act-
ively. I called together a number of young people,
among others, A. J. Friedlander, Frederick Eichberg,
L. Loeb, David Wise, Ludwig Brandeis, Gideon, and
others, who organized a society, induced a number
of young girls to join them, engaged Junkerman at
once as singing-teacher, and Cincinnati began to sing.
The voices were quite good; the young people were
exceedingly enthusiastic; the chagan, Marx Moses,
had not only a good voice, but was possessed of the
necessary musical training, so that it required but
a few weeks for the young people to study the even-
ing service composed by Sulzer. The choir now ap-
peared in the synagogue without further ado.
That was a great Friday evening for Cincinnati.
Members of all the congregations flocked to the
synagogue, and filled it. The harmonious strains of
Sulzer's music resounded for the first time in a syna-
gogue in the western part of America, to glorify
the dawn of a new era. The venture proved com-
pletely successful. Cincinnati listened, and all hearts
glowed with enthusiasm. “That is what we wish,”
was said on all sides. Marcus Fechheimer celebrated
a veritable triumph, and the members of the choir
were transported by their great feats. They contin-
26o IsAAC M. WISE
ued to study, and before the autumn had denuded
the trees of their leaves, they had learned and intro-
duced the morning service.
It is scarcely conceivable now what a victory for
culture and progress the introduction of a synagogal
choir was at that time. No reform of the Jewish
service was possible until the Jewish ear had again
become accustomed to harmony and beauty. The
service would have disappeared gradually altogether
if it had not been reinstated in its old dignity and
uplifting solemnity by song. Many who longed un-
consciously for, or who even opposed the introduc-
tion of the choir into the synagogue, Surely recog-
nize now how the harmonious strains affect and edify
the worshiper, and exert an uplifting effect even upon
the whole of life. The first choral songs in the B’ne
Yeshurun synagogue in Cincinnati were a new path-
finder of culture for the Israelites of the West.
Although the external reforms were introduced
slowly, I was much less timorous in regard to en-
lightenment in the school and in the pulpit. I took
the instruction of the young in charge, and carried
out my own ideas and convictions on the subject.
The enlightenment of the people has always seemed
to me the most important reform. Of all things, the
prime essential has ever appeared to me to awaken
the spirit, to force it to activity, and to give it fresh
and healthy nourishment. I thought that the ex-
ternal forms would fit themselves of their own ac-
cord to the newly-awakened spirit. I preached,
therefore, in the same rationalistic style that I had
employed in writing history. I never failed to prove
REMINISCENCES 26 I
whatever theories I advanced. To my thinking,
proof was of prime importance. I did not wish
either my word or my faith to decide. Therefore
my opponents called me the “jurist of the pulpit.”
I pursued the same course in my school. Before
long I had made rationalists of all connected with
the Talmid Yelodim Institute—teachers, pupils, and
officers. -
I set forth my principles freely and unreservedly
in my inaugural sermon on the first Sabbath. The
large mixed audience seemed to be thoroughly satis-
fied. There was only one who refused to agree with
me. This was Mrs. F. When, according to my usual
custom, I scrutinized my audience carefully, before
beginning to preach, I noticed Mrs. F. in the gallery.
As a sign of her deep interest and attentiveness, she
put her eye-glasses in place, through which, as I knew
well, she was able to see far and clearly. I received
her card in the afternoon; but it was not possible
for me to call on her till the following Monday. She
had not written to me since the day I had returned
the money to her; but upon my entering the parlors
of the hotel, she received me in as cordial a manner
as ever, and told me she was on her way from New
Orleans to Philadelphia, where she expected to spend
the summer, and that she had determined to take
advantage of the opportunity to reclaim her faith-
less Hamlet. I was quite prepared for a scene, but
she scarcely let me catch my breath; then she intro-
duced her two daughters to me. “My daughter,
Louise,” said she, “has studied German in France,
and writes poems, which she sets to music. She has
262 Isa Ac M. WISE
written one poem that pleases me particularly. She
must sing it for us.” Louise stepped to the piano
and sang a beautiful song in a soulful voice, which
still vibrates softly and touchingly within me.
I did not kiss the dear and sweet child, who was
buried two years later in Newport, but I wept bit-
terly upon receiving the mournful intelligence.
Two more songs followed, and then Mrs. F. be-
gan her sermon. First of all she reproached me:
“You returned a gift, or, rather, a voluntary loan,
to a true friend. This hurt my feelings very much.”
I explained the reasons for my action, and she was
satisfied. She now proceeded to the matter in hand:
“If you continue in the same manner as you wrote
and spoke in Albany, and as you spoke last Saturday,
you will make so many enemies in this uncultured
West that your life will become most unpleasant.
You are too violent and much too outspoken.
Either you do not know the world, or you do not
object to becoming a martyr. I adjure you by the
sacred and disinterested friendship I feel for you
to proceed wisely and discreetly.”
The woman spoke so earnestly, Solemnly, and
feelingly that I became frightened. I knew that this
Mrs. F. was possessed of a keen insight and a deep
knowledge of human nature, and also knew that she
was sincerely interested in me and at the same time
devoted to the cause of Judaism and progress. It
was only after a long conversation that I grew clear
as to my course. Before my departure I said to her:
“Be not uneasy, madam. I can not change my dis-
position, nor be false to my convictions, I must leave
REM.INIscENces 263
the issue with the Almighty. I intend to begin the
publication of a weekly as soon as possible, and I
will start a conflagration here in the West which
the whole orthodox host will not be able to quench.
Believe me, I am equal to all the enemies I have now
or will make in the future. I will not be the slave
of the masses, but will uplift them. If this is impos-
sible, I will retire from the field and do something
else.”
“”T is well, my dear Samson,” said she. “If you
thus bring down the pillars of the temple of Dagon,
have a care for your beautifully-formed head with its
lion's mane. But note one point more, I beg of
you. The fighter may be feared, admired, yea, even
worshiped; but he can never be beloved. He is
too terrible. Just now you are beloved like all gen-
iuses. This love you will lose. If you conquer,
you will be admired and revered, but not beloved;
if you fail, hatred and contempt will be your portion.”
“Then I must conquer, come what will,” I cried,
as I shook her hand in a good-bye clasp. I went
home immediately, and wrote the weighty words in
my diary with red ink. This woman’s expressions
have persecuted, worried, and plagued me, and yet,
as I have had frequent occasion to learn, Mrs. F.
spoke the truth.
Immediately upon my arrival in Cincinnati, sev-
eral members of the two B'ne A'rith Lodges joined
me in the effort of obtaining a charter for a third
lodge, which we called Mt. Carmel, No. 20. This was
the twentieth in the country, so that the Order did not
number over two thousand, all told. Since I had
264 ISAAC M. WISE
already passed through all the offices, I was elected
vice-president at once. We succeeded in making the
membership representative, although it had the repu-
tation of being aristocratic. The most prominent
citizens of the city were members of the new lodge.
Since a better element was affiliated with and guided
the helm of the Order in the West than in the East,
I took an active interest in it also, and contributed
my mite towards its advancement. My neighbors
and friends, B. and M. Simon, persuaded me to join
the Odd Fellows; for a new lodge, the Northwest-
ern, was forming just then. I joined this lodge, but
I did not take any especially active part in the doings
of the Order. Another friend, M. J. Mack, was in-
strumental in having me join the Masons (Hansel-
man Lodge). I began to build and do “Mason's”
work. Later I joined the Druids, Harugari, and I
know not what other orders; so that finally I was
initiated into so many secrets that my head fairly
whirled with them all. The fact is that I learned noth-
ing whatsoever from all these secrets; for there is
nothing to them. That which Josephus Flavius once
remarked to Apion, “The children in the streets of
Jerusalem use as playthings those things which your
priests impart so secretly in your mysteries to the
initiated,” may be aptly said of the secrets of all the
secret orders. They do not amount to anything.
Dull mechanism, symbolic trifling, and stiff routine—
these are the chief features. The doctrines and the
instructions are very good and sensible, but as a
general thing, they are neither understood nor prac-
ticed. Two reasons, however, induced me to con-
REM.INISCENCE's 265
tintle my allegiance to the lodges; viz., their charity
and the cosmo-political principle upon which they
were based. Other things kept alive my interest in
the B’ne B'rith. Of these I will speak later, although
I can think of no single public act of injustice of
which I have been the victim that was not inspired
by B'ze B'rith brethren and leaders. . At the same
time I was made an honorary member of the Alle-
mania and other societies, so that full provision was
made for social diversions. Upon my being elected
president of the Cincinnati Benevolent Society, I was
convinced that time would not drag heavily on
my hands. Besides all this, some one was so mali-
cious as to declare that I was a very benevolent
person, was very liberal and ready to help at all times.
The result of this was that I was sought out by all
the poor, and was besieged from morning till late
at night.
As early as the month of May I began to take
steps towards establishing a Jewish weekly. I wrote
very many letters and received very glowing prom-
ises, which, however, were never kept. Contributions
of all kinds were promised, but they were never re-
ceived; yet I went confidently to work and wrote
matter which I intended to make use of later. For-
tunately I wrote very readily, and possessed rare
facility in the use of the English language; hence I
could commit to writing very quickly thoughts which
may have occupied my mind many days. Writing
itself was mere play after I had thought out a theme.
At the end of May I began to look for some
merciful individual who would be so amiable as to
266 Is AAC M. WISE
publish a Jewish weekly under my direction; but
such a one was not to be found, and I began to
admire the good, sound sense of all the disciples of
Faust and Gutenberg. There was no one among the
Jews who had any idea of printing or publishing;
therefore I could not expect any one of them to
undertake this very risky venture. Christian pub-
lishers declared bluntly that a few Jews could not
insure the success of any paper. I did not relish
the thought of borrowing money so soon after my
arrival in Cincinnati, particularly as my debt in Al-
bany was not yet liquidated. I did not know what
to do. Finally I came across a visionary, Dr.
Schmidt, the owner of the German evening paper,
the Republican, and of quite a large printing estab-
lishment on Third Street, in the very heart of the
business district of Cincinnati. Dr. Schmidt accepted
my promise that I would make good all losses at
the end of the first year. Steps were now taken to
have the Israelite appear at the beginning of July.
Having given orders that I did not wish to be dis-
turbed, I locked myself in my room from two o'clock
in the afternoon till four in the morning, and wrote
a prospectus. What should I say to the public, what
suppress? was a leading question. I stood before
the burning thornbush and struggled with myself.
Conviction, conscience, duty, were ranged against
policy. I had to decide one way or the other. If I
used my talents and my position in a politic way, I
would soon become rich, and nothing could prevent
me from entering upon and pursuing successfully
a brilliant career. But if I remained true to
REM.INIscENCES 267
my convictions, the bent of my nature, then I must
be ready to renounce wealth, honors, recognition,
and love; I must be ready to serve the cause for the
love of the truth. Mrs. F. arose before me like a
ghost, and I read once again her words, which I
had written in my diary with red ink:
“The fighter may be feared, admired, yea, even
worshiped; but he can never be beloved. He is too
terrible. Just now you are beloved like all geniuses.
This love you will lose. If you conquer, you will
be admired and revered, but not beloved. If you
fail, hatred and contempt will be your portion.”
I struggled very hard that night, until I reached
the following decision: “Come what may and how it
may, I will not swerve a hair’s-breadth from my con-
victions. Either I will build up a Judaism suited to
the age and breathing the atmosphere of American
freedom, or I will be buried beneath the ruins of
the old Judaism. I do not wish to be rich nor
honored, nor recognized, nor beloved. I will do my
duty. I will remain true to my convictions.”
Then I wrote the prospectus—short, concise,
clear, and fearless. I promised Judaism a sharp
weapon. I promised progress, enlightenment, spir–
itual striving, a fearless organ. The prospectus was
printed, distributed, and mailed by the following
afternoon.
I have often thought how little conception the
general reader has of the emotions which sway a
poet or author while engaged in literary composition;
how little they imagine that sometimes every line
has surged forth from an overcharged heart, and
268 IsAAC M. WISE
every word is a crystallized tear. These poor lit-
terateurs, victims of careless humanity, pour out their
heart's blood on the altar of historical progress, in
Order to furnish this one matter for entertainment
and pastime, and that one for execration and perse-
cution. If all goes well, the hungry poet is fed,
though his heart be breaking the while. I have often
been surprised that they do not all write bitterly,
like Heine. Only that which is deeply felt can pro-
duce a deep effect, and that which is deeply felt is
fed by the heart's blood. I have often experienced
this, but why it is so, I know not.
The prospectus was well received in Cincinnati
for the most part. Naturally, only a few friends were
enthusiastic. The replies from the country were
few, and still fewer from other cities. The indiffer-
ence was greater than the objection to reform.
Shortly thereafter I visited, with Dr. Rosenfeld, a
friend in M., where about ten Jewish families lived,
to whom I gave the prospectus. Seven of them de-
clared they could not read English; one said that
a Jewish paper was a useless commodity, and two
subscribed. Several days later I visited Louisville
for the first time. I found there a well-organized
congregation with a beautiful synagogue. Mr. Gott-
helf was preacher and chagan. I delivered two pub-
lic addresses there. I was admired by the public, and
made a number of very warm friends. My prospectus
was received coldly, except by the few friends of re-
formed tendencies, who were very enthusiastic. At
the end of June we had about five hundred subscrib-
REM.INIscENCES 269
ers for the Israelite, and began to print and mail one
thousand copies. The first number appeared on the
6th of July. It contained the beginning of a novel,
“The Convert,” a poem, news, leading articles, my
Fourth-of-July oration, an opening article on the
institutions of Cincinnati, and miscellanea. As a
matter of course, every one in Cincinnati had to see
the paper, whose motto was his "n", and which was
to voyage through the world bearing the name of
Israel.
I knew full well that every beginning is difficult;
but I had no idea that the establishment of a Jewish
weekly would prove as difficult as it did. Three
things particularly were wanting; viz., confidence in
the editor; secondly, writers; thirdly, readers. Ever
since I had undertaken the editorship of the As-
monean, Isaac Leeser had treated me as a public op-
ponent, and we had many a sharp encounter, al-
though we had never belabored each other with po-
lemical diatribes a la Boerne, such as were later
imported from Germany. Upon the appearance of
the Israelite, with its outspoken reform tendency,
Leeser wrote in the Occident: “A weekly paper has
begun to appear in Cincinnati under the direction
of the well-known Mr. Wise, falsely called Israelite.
It will in all likelihood prove a creature of a day,
and will soon go the way of all flesh.” The Asmonean
did not dare be as unfriendly as this, since it was
edited by Dr. Lilienthal, but it looked upon the new
paper with distrust, and accorded it as cool a recep-
tion as was possible. The political press took scarcely
27o Isa Ac M. WISE
any notice of the “little Jewish paper,” as some called
it. Abroad the paper was unknown, and no one
even mentioned it, except the Allgemeine Zeitung des
Judenthums, which noticed it in its news columns.
All this neither angered nor surprised me; for I have
never cared whether I was mentioned, praised, or
blamed; besides, I knew very well that my paper
would have to be simple and popular; for I wanted
to write for the people—i.e., for my people. This
would not give scholars any reason for particular
admiration. I was convinced that I could not count
on the support of the press.
A number of friends had promised me original
contributions and translations; but when the cam-
paign was ready to be opened, I found myself with-
out an army. My sorriest embarrassment lay in the
fact that I had announced Jewish novels in the pros-
pectus, and could not obtain any. I wished to re-
awaken the slumbering patriotism by Jewish stories
and thus overcome the indifference. I had an ob-
ject, therefore, in desiring novels; but despite all
promises I had none. I had no choice but to write
novels in the sweat of my brow. During the first
year I wrote two: “The Convert” and “The Shoe-
maker’s Family,” the latter with a historical back-
ground. These assisted the paper greatly. How did
I write novels? I wrote the required chapter every
week, but no sooner than I had to. The first pages
were set up while the last were being written. On
one occasion I was in a sorry plight: I had made two
maidens fall in love with one and the same character,
REMINISCENCES 271
and I had to get rid of one of them. I was in sore
straits. How was I to get rid of a lovelorn female?
I had no experience in such things, and yet I wanted
to dispose of her decently, romantically, and effect-
ively. I therefore had the poor thing become insane;
and the unhappy creature had to jump from a window
during the conflagration of the ghetto of Frankfort
and thus meet her death. The poor creature was
greatly mourned and wept for the following Satur-
day, and all the tears fell upon my burdened con-
science. The most serious feature of the whole mat-
ter was that my wife made sport of me every Thurs-
day evening, and declared stoutly that I had for-
gotten entirely how to enact a lover’s part.
A still greater difficulty lay in procuring readers.
It was very hard to obtain such. No one was used
to reading a Jewish paper. My personal friends
read the paper and sought to circulate it; but their
number was, sad to say, very small. I received fre-
quently communications of the following import
from the country: “We are not Jews. We do not
need a Jewish paper. We do not wish to be known
as Jews. There is no honor in being a Jew. I have
nothing to do with Jews.” Or else: “I do not in-
tend to have myself shmad as yet; I do not want any
T’refah posul in my house,” etc. The fact is, that
very few could read English, and the fewest of these
wanted to be known as Jews. Frivolity and indiffer-
ence were the order of the day, and in the cities
atheism and hatred of all religion were rampant
among the Germans. This was the case in Cincinnati,
272 Isa AC M. WISE
particularly under the aegis of the Freeman's Hall.
It did not profit me to have attacked, scourged, and
finally routed atheism with all the weapons at my
command; for it took time to accomplish this. The
mass was large and unapproachable, and my argu-
ments were slow in convincing a foolish, misguided,
and semi-cultured class of people who repeat, par-
rot-like, whatever happens to be the fad of the hour.
But this was not the worst feature of the situation.
A company of baptized Jews, armed with McAll's
writings, had been sent to this country by the Lon-
don Society for the Conversion of the Jews. McAll
had rehashed Eisenmenger; hence the Talmud and,
incidentally, the Jews and Judaism were attacked.
It came to pass erelong that every pastor and every
insignificant little preacher, every common jester,
and every political rogue rained blows upon the Tal-
mud and the Jews. A rascally Jew figured in every
cheap novel, every newspaper printed some stale
jokes about the Jews to fill up space, every back-
woodsman had a few such jokes on hand for use in
public addresses; and all this called forth not one word
of protest from any source. A company of English
missionaries plied the conversion business in New
York systematically with the aid of their own maga-
zine; and there was no one in the great city of New
York who objected to their proceedings. I can not
deny that these things disgusted me; but for this
very reason I proceeded against them maliciously,
wrote articles filled with fire and brimstone instead
of with becoming and polite words, forgetting for the
REM.INIscENces 273
time that I was a clergyman. I did not mind the
abuse to which I was subjected, and cared not
though the rabble cried, Hep ! Hep ! I struck right
and left so violently that the sparks flew in all direc-
tions. I belabored unmercifully every one who spoke
against the Jews, Judaism, and the Talmud, and
used both fists on the principle, “Two kicks for
one blow;” in short, I became a malicious, biting,
pugnacious, challenging, and mocking monster of
the pen. Mrs. F. scolded me in every letter, and
begged me for God’s sake to be a gentleman; but
I would not listen to her, and continued to fight like
a wild boar that had been fired at. These tactics
proved efficacious, but, as a matter of course, only
after a time. In the first place, I succeeded in silenc-
ing the opposition, and routed the New York com-
pany, together with their magazine. In the second
place, the Israelite became known and recognized as
the organ of all Jewry, and not alone of the reform
party. Thirdly, the cowards threw off their disguise,
and were no longer ashamed to be Jews. Fourthly,
the much-decried Wise became all at once a mighty
personage, so that the Israelite continued to exist
and to prosper despite all obstacles and all oppo-
nents.
The fiercely-burning flame which was kindled and
burned within me made me also a fiery, unbridled,
and reckless, but at the same time a very effective,
speaker. This made me very popular, not only in
Cincinnati, but throughout the West; and the cause
of reform came to be considered especially connected
I8
274 ISAAC M. WISE
with my personality. “Greatly as we disapprove of
Wise and his methods,” my opponents were wont to
say, “we readily grant him one great virtue: he is
always ready to stand in the breach for the Jews
and Judaism. On such occasions he is a veritable
thunderbolt.” Whenever I heard expressions like
this, I said to myself: “If the time ever comes that
my lightning strikes, no one will succeed in wrest-
ing the victory from me.”
II
I did not take me long to become master of the sit-
uation in Cincinnati. The sacro-sanct orthodox
party that had waged continual warfare for years
with slaughterers, butchers, women's bath-house
keepers, Matzoth bakers, Ethragim dealers, and Min-
hagim peddlers, and had deceived Cincinnati and
themselves, disappeared like chaff, and no one knew
what had become of all the gigantic minds and lam-
danim. The old Beth Din had been dissolved by a
single pronunciamento uttered from the pulpit, and
I assumed all rabbinical functions. I concluded a
treaty of peace with all harassed souls, and within
a few weeks every slaughterer and butcher was sing-
ing my praises, especially since Mr. Hyman Moses
and Dr. Mayer (now of Hartford) were known and
recognized at once as my adjutant-generals.
At times laughable incidents took place. A woman
came to me and requested that I “learn shiur” for her
deceased father, for whom she would soon have
Yahrgeit. Upon my telling her that I had no need
of money, and that my “learning” could be of no use
to her father, the good woman was greatly aston-
ished at the infidelity of her rabbi. On the following
Sabbath I denounced the Jewish substitute for the
Catholic mass; the “shiur learners” wailed and la-
mented that their means of earning a livelihood was
275
276 IsAAC M. WISE
thus taken from them, but their occupation was gone.
Another woman came to me with a harrowing tale
to the effect that there were ghosts in her house,
and she feared the cause of it was possle m'augoth. I
went to her home, took the m'ºu.20th down, showed
the terrified woman that they were not posul, and
found the cause of the disturbance. Rat-poison soon
drove the evil spirits out of the house. The tricks of
magic performed by Reb Seckel Loeb Michelstadt *
had aroused the wondering admiration of many, and
I lost no opportunity to ridicule them to my heart's
content. In connection with this, it must be remem-
bered that I was quite as well able as my opponents
to answer questions submitted to me, and to give
Talmudical references. As a result, I acquired the
reputation of being a great rabbinical scholar, al-
though I never stood in the odor of sanctity. The
more my opponents used their learning to keep the
people in ignorance, the more I pursued the opposite
course. I attempted to enlighten the people. As a
result all the old men became my supporters. The
deceased fathers Loeb, Stix, Mack, Levi, and many
other old men who are still among the living, accepted
my dicta and decisions as the word of the master, by
which they would have sworn as had been the cus-
tom in days long past.
The result of all this was not long in appearing.
The B’ne Yeshurun synagogue was crowded every
Saturday, and the large and costly B’ne Israel syna-
gogue became the gathering-place of the English-
Polish-German Orthodox, who exerted themselves to
*A so-called Baal Shem, or wonder rabbi, of great renown.—[ED.
REM.INIscENCES 277
the utmost to perpetuate all the old indecorum in the
service. The bona fide members of the congregation
became convinced that a change must take place, or
else the congregation would soon dissolve.
Mr. Philip Heidelbach, president of the B’ne Israel
congregation, having been assured of the support of
the most influential members, took decisive steps in
the matter. A general meeting of the congregation
was called, and the following resolutions were adopted
by a vote of ninety-three to twelve:
“That the rabbi of the B’ne Yeshurun congrega-
tion is hereby elected for life rabbi of the B’ne Israel
congregation, with the understanding that he is to
preach alternately in both synagogues, and to dis-
charge all rabbinical functions in both congregations.
“That the B’ne Israel congregation proceed at
once to build a school, and the said rabbi is elected
superintendent of this school.
“That the B’ne Israel congregation contribute as
much as the B’ne Yeshurun congregation towards
the salary of the rabbi.”
A committee of fifty came to my house at mid-
night to apprise me of the action of the congregation.
Joy reigned unconfined. It was a fairly won battle,
a victory for the cause of progress in Judaism, for
the B’ne Israel congregation was looked upon as the
mother congregation of Western Jewry, and as the
camp of simon-pure orthodoxy.
I did not close my eyes that night. My wife sat
up with me in my study, and regaled me with charm-
ing stories of our youthful days, her aim being to
calm my excited feelings. I described the incident in
278 ISAAC M. WISE
my diary the next morning, and wrote beneath the
words: “The day is breaking,”
sha', unan TD
As everywhere in America, so also were there dif-
ferences, prejudices, and jealousies between the con-
gregations in Cincinnati. These were caused mostly
by the national prejudices brought from Europe.
Englishmen, Poles, and Germans, and among the
latter North and South Germans, Old and Rhine
Bavarians, Hessians and Alsatians, etc., entertained
no kindly feelings towards one another. They
teased each other whenever opportunity offered.
This led to malignity at times. Further, there
were the individual interests and the pride of
every congregation which found expression in
raillery. An additional and special disagreement
between the B’ne Israel and the B’ne Yeshurun
congregations of Cincinnati was caused by the
fact that the latter had been formed in opposition to
the former by the Germans as against the predomi-
nant English element, and used the “Minhag Ash-
kenag” instead of the “Minhag Polen;” therefore,
harmonious and friendly co-operation between these
two congregations was out of the question. True, I
denounced these prejudices unsparingly, and ridiculed
them; but it was long ere my efforts bore fruit. My
B’ne Yeshurun congregation would not entertain
the proposition that its rabbi should belong also to
the B’ne Israel congregation.
I assumed temporarily all rabbinical functions in
the B’ne Israel congregation before my congregation
REMINISCENCES 279
could take official action in the matter. I preached
there on Saturday afternoon, since I could not do so
in the morning. We proceeded at once to open a
school which I called Noyoth. It had four teachers.
I filled both positions to the best of my ability, al-
though the consent of the B’ne Yeshurun congre-
gation was not likely to be given, and I did not con-
sider myself justified in taking violent measures. The
officers of the B’ne Israel congregation and I were
on the best of terms. We worked together harmoni-
ously, and the orthodox element was beginning to
accept the inevitable; but my B’ne Yeshurun congre-
gation would not move from its position.
The orthodox party in the East was furious at the
sudden change of public opinion in Cincinnati in favor
of progress, and Isaac Leeser came West in the late
autumn to save his Occident, and to change public
opinion. Reports came from all quarters to the effect
that Leeser was attacking me bitterly; but I paid no
attention to this. I mused thus: “The man is right.
He sees himself about to perish, and is doing all he
can to save himself.” Finally Leeser came to Cincin-
nati also. I was asked whether he should be invited
to preach in the B’ne Israel synagogue. I had no
objection. He used the occasion to thunder against
reform and its apostles; but it was too late, the peo-
ple had changed their convictions. The anniversary
of the Relief Society took place on Sunday evening.
Leeser’s friends came to me, the president, and re-
quested me to invite him to the banquet. I appointed
three of their number as a committee to invite him
to respond to the toast, “Our Guests.” I repaired
28o Is AAC M. WISE
to the banquet-hall at the appointed hour, to receive
the invited guests. The committee introduced Leeser
to me. I welcomed him cordially, and extended my
hand in sign of greeting. He refused to take it.
After all present had taken their seats at table, the
privilege of “making motgi” was auctioned accord-
ing to the ancient custom. The opposing parties
bid against one another in a lively manner. My peo-
ple succeeded in capturing the prize. They bought
the “mitzvah” for an extravagant sum, and desired
to confer the honor upon me. I declared that as I
was virtually the host, it was quite impossible for any
such special horior to be conferred on Irie. I there-
fore suggested that Mr. Isaac Leeser be given this
distinction. The Benshen was sold in the same man-
ner after the meal, and the honor was again offered
me. As before, I designated Leeser to be the re-
cipient thereof. Nothing, however, could mollify his
wrath, and when he arose to respond to his toast he
Overwhelmed me with bitter reproaches and insults
in the name of Judaism, which, as he claimed, I
wished to undermine and destroy. The excitement
was intense. In order to avoid a scene, I had to re-
strain my people, who were beside themselves with
rage. After Leeser had finished, the people called
out “Wise ! Wise ! Wise !” so thunderously, that I
became frightened. “Quiet, gentlemen ſ” said I.
“This evening and in this place I am the presiding
officer. The regular order of exercises will not be
interrupted. Mr. Vice-President, please announce
the next toast.” The Vice-President did as he was
bidden. A rejoinder was therefore not to be looked
REM.INISCENCES 28 I
for from me on that evening. When they became
conscious of this, Leeser and his friends hurried from
the hall, and the excitement was over. The Prussian
Consul Burkhardt, who was the next speaker, had all
the diplomacy of a statesman. He indulged in biting
witticisms on Orthodox politeness, decency, and
peacefulness, as well as on naughty reform stoicism.
This restored the good humor of the assemblage.
“War to the knife,” Leeser had said. Burkhardt
dwelt on this phrase particularly, because it had
roused the people to fury. In this manner I
triumphed in Cincinnati over Leeser and his English-
Polish adherents, and was left in peace. On the fol-
lowing day, Taylor, the proprietor and editor of the
Times, presented me with a gold pen in recognition
of my Christian humility and pagan stoicism. Leeser
brought charges against me to Mrs. F.; but he told
her only the truth. She wrote me a love-letter.
In the meantime reforms were taking place quietly
in the B’ne Yeshurun congregation. Immediately after
the institution of the choir as a permanent feature
of the service, the desire for an organ was expressed.
We began to consider ways and means as to how this
could be satisfied without strife or contest. Mr. Jacob
L. Miller was president of the congregation. He and
the whole Board were unanimous. The only draw-
back lay in the circumstance that there was no room
in the synagogue for an organ. Fortunately a large
Bimah stood in the center of the building. The space
to the east as far as the Aron Haqqodesh and to the
west as far as the door was empty. Thus the middle
of the synagogue was almost unoccupied, and up-
282 Is AAC M. WISE
stairs in the western gallery there was a large room
Over the vestibule which was separated from the main
building by a wall. “If we remove this wall we will
gain about sixty seats for the women, and in a second
gallery above this there will be ample room for an
organ and the choir; further, if we remove the Bimah,
and place the pulpit and the reading-desk near the
Aron Haqqodesh, we will gain about sixty seats for the
men in the center.” This was our plan. The organ
and the alterations in the building would cost from
$IO,OOO to $12,000. The new seats which we would
gain would bring in that sum. The Board resolved to
lay this plan before a congregational meeting, whicil
was called for Purim evening.
The undertaking met with some opposition on the
part of such as objected to the expense, although they
did not advance any objection on the score of prin-
ciple. This objection could be met easily. On Purim
morning I preached on the old custom of Sh’loach
Manoth, and announced that I would come myself to
receive my presents. Jacob L. Miller and I spent the
morning from nine to twelve o’clock in visiting mem-
bers of the congregation, with the purpose of having
them advance the money, which was to be repaid
within three years without interest. By twelve o’clock
twelve thousand dollars had been subscribed, and we
had not called on all. The wind was taken out of the
opposition's sails when at the meeting in the evening
the plan, the money to carry it out, and the project
of selling sufficient seats to repay the loan were sub-
mitted. The suggestion of the Board was concurred
in without further parley, and the alterations in the
REMINISCENces 283
synagogue were begun immediately after Passover.
I had to resign my position in the B’ne Israel con-
gregation.
I looked ill all the time. Having been invited to
come to Cleveland to lecture, I took sick there, and
had to remain in Kalisch's house several days. Upon
my return I was compelled to remain at home a num-
ber of weeks. The report was circulated that I was
consumptive. The truth of the matter was, that I
could not stand the Western climate. My anxious
friends declared, as usual, that I worked too hard.
I Illust 1est more, said they, as though I enjoyed this
at any time. My wife believed all this, and let me
know in as delicate a manner as possible that she did
not wish to be left a widow. Finally Mr. Philip
Heidelbach came to me, and informed me that their
congregation could secure Dr. Lilienthal, and that it
depended on me as to whether negotiations should
begin. I resolved at once to hand in my resignation.
A silver fruit-basket suitably inscribed, and a set of
laudatory resolutions informed me of my honorable
dismissal by the B’ne Israel congregation.* Thus I
was rabbi of all Cincinnati for about one year.
My word was law in the four congregations. The
orthodox party was completely routed. One of them
*The author of the “Reminiscences” plays upon the word
“Korb,” which in the German has, besides its usual meaning,
“basket,” also an idiomatic significance. This play upon the word
can not be reproduced in English, and I therefore reproduce the
original:
“Der erste Koró den ich in meinem Leben beñommen habe,
zear ein silöerner, der jetzt noch einem bedeutenden Werth fuer
wgich hał,”—[ED.
284 IsAAC M. WISE
cursed me publicly. He was a ben b'rith, and had
been president of a lodge. He was not admitted to
the Grand Lodge because of his expressions against
me. After two years I learned of the circumstance.
I pleaded for him, and as a result he was admitted to
the Grand Lodge.
Another orthodox major domo was a mohel. I
was invited to a b'rith milah, and after the meal the
mohel began to say grace, but took no notice of me,
inasmuch as he did not mention my rank and title
in the r'shuth. I arose from the table immediately,
and went into the next room. The whole company
followed me. The good man had to bensh by himself,
and besides had to apologize to me later.
I accustomed these worthies by-and-by to re-
spect my rank and position. After that I always got
along well with them. We even became intimate
friends, and continue such to this day. I frequented
the restaurants with the people, drank with them, at-
tended the theater, the opera, and balls; but I never
played cards with them. In spite of all this, I never
permitted undue familiarity. I always knew how to
maintain the dignity of my position, even when drink-
ing with them. Thus I soon became the friend and ac-
quaintance of every one, without growing too inti-
mate with any one. I concealed my pride within me,
and thus it served me best.
The Israelite became very popular in a short time;
but it did not pay. The subscription-list was entirely
too small. Since I had resolved firmly never to be-
come rich, I used the popularity of the paper to fur-
ther my projects. I had already begun in the
REMINISCENCES 285
Asmonean to make propaganda for the establishment
of an institute for higher Jewish learning, and I be-
gan agitating the same idea again. The subjects of
the leaders in the Israelite were as follows: You must
give your sons and your daughters a better education,
you must found higher institutes of learning for this
purpose, you must educate men for the pulpit and the
professor's chair. At home I had to pay most atten-
tion to having the Sabbath observed, and had to de-
vote my energies to inducing the larger business
houses to observe the day; hence I could not always
treat the subjects mentioned above; but in my leaders
I laid chief stress upon the education of the young.
Everything that I proposed was well received in
Cincinnati, and faithfully supported. It was resolved
at a public meeting to organize the Zion Collegiate
Association. Any one who pledged himself to pay
ten dollars annually was admitted to membership.
The plan was to organize similar associations in all
the cities of the country, and then to have the united
societies found and support a higher Jewish academy
or college. The association was organized in Cin-
cinnati at once, and three hundred members were en-
rolled. I was enthusiastically received in Louisville,
and the same resolutions as had been passed at Cin-
cinnati were indorsed at a large mass-meeting. The
most prominent Jewish merchants gave glowing
promises to do everything in their power to bring the
college into being. Had I understood local con-
ditions thoroughly at that time (1855), and had I vis-
ited the West and the South, organized the societies,
and aroused the people as I did so successfully in
286 Isa AC M. WISE
Cincinnati and Louisville, Zion College would have
been founded within two or three years. I was, how-
ever, too impractical, had no executive ability, and
by far too little experience. Unfortunately every-
thing depended on my personal influence. Instead of
doing this, I heeded the advice of my friends, and
made a trip to the East.
As I have mentioned above, the people believed
me to be consumptive, for I was again as weak
physically as I had been in 1849. However, my spirit
was stronger and my will more powerful. I did not
permit myself to be discouraged, and entertained no
fear of death. As the Synagogue was being rcho
vated, and the schools were in charge of excellent
teachers, I permitted myself to be persuaded to take
a trip to the East. In the beautiful month of May I
embarked on a steamer in company with my wife
and son Leo, in order to journey up the Ohio as far
as Wheeling. The delicate attentions paid me by the
female passengers convinced me that I must be sickly
indeed in appearance. This annoyed me greatly. I
resolved firmly not even to look sick. I trifled, joked,
read Byron's poems to the attentive company, de-
claimed most elegantly and pathetically, drank the
best wines, breathed the pure air, ate candies with the
ladies, had them sing and play for me, until I looked
perfectly well. The journey up the Ohio to Wheel-
ing lasted three days and two nights. I arrived at this
place in good health. My wife said so many sweet
things that I could have filled a confectionery; the
little boy jumped about like a playful kid; the negro
servants in the hotel swarmed about us like satellites;
REM.INIscENCES 287
the host and the hostess overwhelmed us with atten-
tions, so that the hotel appeared to me to be a kind
of fool’s paradise. I could not understand how it was
that the host and the hostess, the negroes and all the
Other servants treated us so politely and cordially.
But I was not left unenlightened very long. Towards
evening a fine-looking man entered my room, and
addressed me rather bluntly: “My name is Henry
(Harry) Wise; they say you are my brother.” “That
is quite impossible,” I answered. “I am a Bohemian
Jew; perhaps my wife is your sister.” The gentleman
bowed politely and laughed, sat down, and we formed
one another’s acquaintance. We discussed the gene-
alogy of all the Wises, Wyses, Weises, and Weisses,
until we finally reached the conclusion that we possi-
bly descended from one and the same wis(e)dom in
Noah's ark, and consequently were all very wise and
white (weiss); a highly important necessity at that
time. I knew that I was speaking with the candidate
for the governorship of Virginia, and began to talk
politics. In the evening I had to accompany him to a
great mass-meeting, where I heard his famous speech
against Knownothingism. Governor Wise intro-
duced me to the assemblage, and in the name of the
German and Jewish elements I made some remarks
about the hatred rampant against foreigners at that
time. This attracted the notice of some countrymen
of mine, who treated my wife and myself most
amiably.
The next day we took the train to Baltimore, after
we had viewed the chain-bridge and several other
sights, and had paid several calls till about five o’clock.
288 IsAAC M. WISE
It was shortly after the opening of this road to traffic.
I traveled for the first time over the Alleghany Moun-
tains, and was struck speechless with admiration at
the superb natural scenery. For twenty-four hours
I was overcome with amazement at the virginal cre-
ation. I had never before seen the earth as it had
come from the Creator's hand clothed in all its youth-
ful charm. Here it lay before me in unmarred beauty,
appearing as it did on the first Sabbath before the
hand of man had deformed it. If I had been sick,
this view would have cured me. Whoever has never
experienced the mighty, bewitching power of nature
unadoriled, in all lieſ will aud illuesulibable Ullaſ III,
will consider my fantasies of that day ridiculous; but
I can never forget the mighty impression she made
upon me.
Upon our arrival at Baltimore we put up at
Schloss’s, where I was well acquainted. My wife soon
grew quite friendly with the mother and daughter of
the house. I found no opportunity for recreation in
Baltimore, for I had to speak in all the synagogues,
and on Sunday evening had to lecture on the college.
It was most gratifying to meet with so hearty a re-
ception at the hands of many dear friends after an
absence of five years. This revived and enlivened
me. The youth of Baltimore greeted me enthusi-
astically and treated me like an apostle of the future,
so that I comprehended clearly that a new era was
dawning, a new sun was rising. Mrs. F. believed this
also. She was already in Baltimore when I arrived,
in order to celebrate my triumphs with me, as she
said. She accompanied us during our whole journey
REM.INIscENCES 289
from Baltimore to Albany, which I will describe
later on.
The lively interest which my college plan had
aroused in Baltimore, and the friendly attentions that
the ladies had shown my wife, cheered and enlivened
me beyond measure. Accompanied by Mrs. F. and
a few friends, we journeyed to Philadelphia. Upon
arriving at the Susquehanna, we embarked on the
steamer to cross the river. This put me in mind of
Mrs. F.'s poem on the three demons. I reminded her
of it, and she launched off into a long harangue, in
which she tried to prove the truth of the opinion she
had given utterance to five years previously. My
wife suggested that a fourth demon had joined him-
self to the three since that time, and that this fourth
one was now writing novels and poems. She averred
that she could never have resolved to marry me had
she known that I would write novels and poems, for
all poets are so impolite as to create ideals that over-
top all reality. “You are not exposed to any such
danger,” maliciously retorted Mr. Lauer, who was
traveling with us; “for the ideals in your husband's
novels are quite overtopped by reality.” I took the
chaffing good-naturedly, and arrived at Philadelphia
in the best of spirits.
At Philadelphia I was the guest of the Reform
Society, led at that time by the two brothers Springer,
Kaufman, Klopfer, Arnold, Goldman, Shoyer, and
others. They had reserved rooms for me at the Arch
Street Hotel, and I was treated most hospitably. The
following evening I addressed a large audience in a
public hall, and tried to arouse their enthusiasm for
I9
29O IsAAC M. WISE
the college project. Isaac Leeser and his adherents
were in the audience. Leeser exerted himself from
that very moment to realize the project in Philadel-
phia, and succeeded in founding the Jewish school of
that city, and later Maimonides College. His leading
thought was to have the institution controlled by the
Orthodox party, in order to perpetuate thus the Shul-
chan Arukh. The reform party was weak in Phila-
delphia at that time, and Leeser was extraordinarily
active, so that the enthusiasm which I had aroused
for the cause was diverted into other channels. The
treatment which I received from the friends of reform
in Philadelphia was very encouraging, and I cherished
the most glowing expectations.
From Philadelphia we traveled to New York,
where my wife left me, for she was very anxious to
get to Albany. I was the guest of the Emanuel con-
gregation, was entertained at the home of my friend,
Moses Schloss, and preached on the second day of
Shabuoth before a very large congregation. The con-
firmation service had been held on the first day. Dr.
Merzbacher and all the leading members of the con-
gregation favored the college project, and I was sure
of victory. Dr. Lilienthal was in Cincinnati, while
I was in New York.
A few days later I journeyed to Albany, where I
was received with open arms. Mrs. Marianne Smith,
who had taken possession of my wife, insisted on
having me also. We were at home once again. The
Literary Society gave me a public reception. There
were feasts without end. It was self-understood that
my project would be well received in Albany, for my
REMINISCENCES 29 I
old friends still lived there, and my enemies had be-
come reconciled.
A reception like that which I received in these
cities justifies a superficial observer in entertaining
the fondest hopes; hence I returned to Cincinnat
sure of success. I was sure that every one was as
enthusiastic in the cause as I could wish. I was well
satisfied. Mrs. F. was of a contrary opinion. She
wrote me from New York shortly after my departure.
Her letter contained the following remarkable pas-
sage: “You are conjuring up a contemptible foe
against yourself. His name is jealous ambition. You
are accomplishing too much. You will never be for-
given for obtaining public favor so completely as you
have. Take care. This foe is the worst you can pos-
sibly meet, for he is without character.” I suppress
the other things that this wise woman wrote me, for
they concerned men whom she could not endure, al-
though she peered into the future and into human
hearts like a prophetess.
III
HAD forgotten altogether during my trip that I
had been sick. I lived in constant excitement for
twenty-two days, delivered eight public lectures in
large buildings, and took part in everything. Upon
my return home the reaction took place, and I felt
again the depressing effects of the Western climate.
My physician wanted me to go away again. This
was quite out of the question, for I had official duties
to perform, although the repairs on the synagogue
were far from being finished, and Dr. Schmidt had in-
formed me that he did not wish to continue publish-
ing the Israelite because of the losses he had suffered.
We audited the accounts, and learned that we had
lost six hundred dollars during that first year. Since
my old debts had been paid, I did not mind incurring
116 W. O.11eS.
My brother-in-law, Edward Bloch, had, like myself,
neither business nor fortune, hence both of us had
everything to gain, and nothing to lose. We bought
type, presses, and all printers' necessities on six
months’ credit, and in July, 1855, we founded the firm
of Bloch & Company, with debts amounting to three
thousand dollars. Not satisfied with losing money
on the Israelite, we began to issue the Deborah also,
and bought enough Hebrew type to found the first
292
REMINISCENCEs 293
Jewish printing-house in the West. Towards the end
of June we moved into the building at the corner of
Third and Sycamore Streets, and at the beginning of
July we were ready for business. In the meantime
Dr. Lilienthal and Dr. Rothenheim had arrived in
Cincinnati. They assisted me actively in editing both
papers, so that these appeared regularly without de-
manding too great exertion on my part.
The Deborah was greeted joyfully everywhere. It
was the first German paper written for American
Jews. A similar attempt made by Mr. Isidor Bush
in New York in 1849 had failed. We began with a
novel, poem, leading articles, foreign and domestic
news, and miscellanea, and wrote not for scholars,
but for the general public. Rothenheim was the poet,
Lilienthal the prose writer, and Wise the general util-
ity man. The Deborah was praised, glorified, and com-
plimented. “She’” had many suitors, but few takers.
Eight hundred copies met all demands. No one ex-
cept the women wished to read German. For the
present the Israelite and Deborah could not be ex-
pected to pay, and Bloch had to make good his losses
by other ventures. Jewish publications were not
wanted, and such as were wanted were not paid for.
We were burdened with debts, and had no prospects
of being able to liquidate them. I worried and blamed
myself often for having dragged my innocent brother-
in-law into the Jewish misery, which offered no pros-
pects to a business man, and I have often been sur-
prised that he never reproached me, although I fre-
quently felt that I had wronged him. True, matters
turned out all right later on, but not through Jewish
2.94 Isa AC M. WISE
support, which even to-day can not be safely reck-
oned on.
My physician insisted upon the necessity of my
leaving the city if I would avoid an attack of fever.
Feeling the presence of this undesirable companion
in every part of my body, I left the city at the end of
July, and went to St. Louis by way of Indianapolis
and Terre Haute. There was not a Jewish congrega-
tion between Chicago, St. Louis, Louisville, and Cin-
cinnati. I found a few honorable Jewish merchants
in Indianapolis; viz., Franko, Wolf, Dessar, Glaser,
Dernham, Herrmann, Altmann, and others, who or-
ganized a congregation shortly thereafter. I found
only a few Jewish merchants in Terre Haute: Mack,
Arnold, Schulhof, Gutmann, and a few more. There
were also several in Vincennes: Gimble, Joseph, etc.;
but these were neither willing nor sufficiently numer-
ous to form congregations. The Jews in Indianapolis
and Terre Haute were in possession of several ceme-
teries, and there were chebroth; but there were no
further traces of Judaism among them. I was re-
ceived cordially and treated well everywhere, so that
I enjoyed the first week of my trip very much.
I arrived at St. Louis Friday morning, and went
to a hotel because I was totally unacquainted in that
city. I would have preferred to lodge in a certain
Jewish inn; but the people I encountered there were
so uncouth that I became disgusted and remained at
the hotel. The Jewish innkeeper disclosed my pres-
ence, and an hour later acquaintances and strangers
called on me, among others the parnassim of the two
congregations. Judaism was in a sorry plight in St.
REM.INISCENCES 295
Louis at that time. A number of cultured families
had severed all connection with the Jews, and were
pronounced atheists, while others showed but the
slightest interest in the faith. True, there were two
congregations—the B'nai El, which was called the
Bohemian; and the United Hebrew, which was called
the Polish congregation. The German element was
sparingly represented in both. The congregations
were insignificant. They represented a small begin-
ning. The parnassim, Latz and Strauss, agreed that
I should speak in the Polish synagogue on Saturday,
and in the Bohemian on Sunday. I was invited out
a great deal, received many visits, met many acquaint-
ances, among others Isidor Bush, who was still a
faithful adherent to Judaism.
The business activity of the city, particularly along
the Mississippi, impressed me greatly. A fleet of
gigantic steamers lay along the river front for a
length of two or three miles. The loading and un-
loading, the arrival and departure of passengers, the
rattling and rumbling of the many transportation
wagons and carriages, the bustling activity and mo-
tion of a fluctuating crowd were novel sights for me.
I had seen similar things in seaports, but never in an
inland city.
I went to the synagogue on Saturday with friend
Latz, and found it quite well attended. The old
Polish ritual was used; everything was primitive.
The people cried out, sang, shook themselves, jumped
and hopped about, gossiped and shmodered. Every
one had his tallith wound about his person dramat-
ically, and moved about freely. Friend Latz is a fine
296 Isa AC M. WISE
gentleman. He hoped that the people would behave
with decorum in honor of the guest; but no such
thought entered their minds for a moment; hence
friend Latz was greatly embarrassed. He winked,
coughed, sent the shamash among the people; but it
was all in vain. The people had paid their dues, and
they felt that it was their privilege to do as they
pleased. My dear friend Latz was subjected to
still greater embarrassment, for upon my arising to
preach I discovered that my reputation had preceded
me, inasmuch as about twenty sacrosanct individuals
left the synagogue. But this annoyed me very little,
since a goodly number of men and women remained
in the building. I preached a German sermon, in
which I interspersed many Talmudical passages. At
the end of the service I was highly complimented,
even by the English chagan, who did not understand a
word of German. I was delighted. I dined with Latz,
and in the afternoon I saw the chief sights of the
city. When one sees the beautiful synagogue of this
congregation to-day, with its choir, organ, family
pews, sermon, etc., he can scarcely believe that it is
the same congregation, and yet it is so. Within
twenty years everything has changed wonderfully in
the West.
I spoke in the B'nai El synagogue on Sunday after-
noon, before a very large assemblage. I explained
my plans, and received much encouragement and
sympathy. The B'nai El congregation had leanings
toward reform, a la Prague, or rather Vienna. There
was a desire for better conditions. I liked St. Louis;
but the heat, one hundred and five degrees in the
M. EzEKIEL AT WORK ON THE BUST OF DR. WISE AET. EIGHTY

REM.INIscENCEs 297
shade, drove me away. I embarked on the steamer
on Monday to go North. On board I met my neigh-
bor Hoffheimer, who is living in St. Louis at present.
He persuaded me to stop at Qunicy, where a sister
of his lived. He promised me a royal time. I found
a number of acquaintances in Quincy; viz., Jonas,
Cohen, Lesem, and Hermann; but no Jewish congre-
gation, nor even the nucleus of any organization.
The same condition of affairs prevailed in all towns
on the Mississippi. The following Saturday I spent
in Keokuk. There I met Eppinger, Gerstle, Stern,
Stein, and others; but no sign of a congregation.
Finally I reached Davenport and Rock Island on
Tuesday. There I met Pritz, Oppenheimer, and Roll-
man, and found that steps had been taken towards
Organizing a congregation, of which Pritz was par-
mass, chagan, shamash, and major domo. I spent
happy days in the Mississippi towns; the people an-
ticipated my every wish. I saw everything, and be-
came acquainted with every one; but withal I longed
to get back into the territory of Jewish civilization,
and left Rock Island to return East by rail. I stopped
at Ottawa, Lasalle, Peoria, and Morris. I met co-
religionists everywhere, but no sign of Judaism. I
arrived at Chicago on Thursday afternoon, and took
lodgings at a hotel, because I was a stranger in the
city. My friends visited me before nightfall; viz.,
Wolf Goodheart, Schlossman, Leopold, Abraham
Cohn, and soon thereafter the patriarch Greenebaum,
Strauss, and others. I now felt that I was no longer
a stranger in Chicago.
I had spent nearly two weeks in rural quiet. The
298 IsAAC M. WISE
bustle and excitement of the city presented, therefore,
a sharp contrast. At any rate, it was certainly im–
posing. A stream of human beings moved up and
down the principal streets. Like crowds are to be
seen only in the chief thoroughfares of New York.
Every one was in a hurry. Each one wanted to “get
there” first at any price. There was always a crowd
of people and wagons waiting at the draw-bridges
which join the northern and western sections with the
center of the city. These bridges had to be opened
constantly to let the steamers, which were loaded or
unloaded in Chicago, pass through. This dense mass
of humanity aroused my astonishment at first until
I perceived that the business section was very small
for the amount of business transacted, and that the
remaining sections were spread over a great deal of
territory. Chicago scarcely deserved to be called a
city at that time. But the beginnings were there. A
sea of little wooden houses spread over an extended
territory, badly paved streets, and wooden sidewalks,
with a few handsome buildings in the center—this
was Chicago. It looked like an aggregation of a hun-
dred adjoining villages. Signs with the warning,
“Bottomless,” appeared where now are some of the
principal streets. These signs indicated Swampy
ground. A wagon mired there could not possibly be
drawn out.
There were two Jewish congregations in Chicago;
one German, the Anshe Maarab; the other Polish.
The synagogue of the former was a large wooden
building; the latter worshiped in rented quarters.
Ramah Lodge, I. O. B. B., and a number of small
REM.INIscENCES 299
societies were in existence; but there was nothing
else, neither school nor charitable organization. I
preached on Saturday in the Anshe Maarab syna-
gogue. The auditory was large, but mostly orthodox.
The ritual was the Minhag Ashkenag with all its tra-
ditional appurtenances. The principal members of
the congregation were Greenebaum, Sr., Gerstle,
Cole, Rosenberg, Rosenfeld, Abraham Cohn, etc. As
was the case in St. Louis, I was also the first to
preach reform in Chicago; in fact, I was the first to
preach at all, and here, as there, the call to reform
was well received by some, was opposed by others,
and was treated with supreme indifference by still
others. I was royally treated, but my reform ideas
were extremely unpalatable to very many. The col-
lege plan was favorably received everywhere; but I
lacked the practical sense to seize the auspicious
moment.
I spent some very happy days in Chicago. My
friend, Wolf Goodheart, insisted on taking me out
driving every day behind his spirited horse. His fa-
vorite drive was along the lake, so that in case we
should be thrown out of the buggy we would be able
to while away the superfluous hours by taking a bath.
All went well till one day the horse was so gracious
as to demolish the harness and to dance a caracole.
This led us to the conclusion that it would be best
for us to take our exercise afoot in the future.
I formed intimacies in all the towns which last to
this day. During my trip I wrote every morning
for the Israelite and Deborah, or I jotted down poems,
for I was in a poetic mood. This done, I gave myself
3oo Isa AC M. WISE
up to pleasure. Since my funds were not yet ex-
hausted, and I had nothing of importance to do at
home, I went from Chicago to Milwaukee by steamer
for the sake of the lake trip.
I have seen the prairies of Illinois and Iowa, those
endless stretches of grass, at their best. Like Irving
and Gerstaecker, I have seen the sun rise on the prai-
ries; I have seen the rays of the king of day kiss the
countless bedeved flowers, so that they glittered bril-
liantly like myriads of precious stones; I have seen the
wind sweep through the waves of grass, and agitate
the vast expanse. The rich flora and fauna of the vir-
gin plains amazed me, but did not evoke my admira–
tion. Flat surfaces visible as far as the eye can reach
exert no charm upon me. I much preferred the lake
on a moonlight night, when a thousand stars looked
down upon me and a thousand illusions deceived me.
I felt at home, and coquetted with the moon until she
disappeared, and I was left alone with the beautiful
silvery waves. Every star is reflected in the deep;
there is a second firmament there below. Which is
the real one? I was vexed when the morning dawned,
and we arrived at Milwaukee. I would have been
content to dream away several more nights, but,
being sleepy, I hied myself to the hotel, and retired.
I do not know who spread the news of my arrival.
At any rate, when I made my appearance by two
o'clock, Mrs. F. number two was there with her
amiable husband to welcome me and take charge
of me. They did this so charmingly that I became
very tractable, gentle, and malleable. This most
lovable Mrs. F. number two had been a pupil of
REMINISCENCES 3o I
mine in Albany, and had learned the whole Penta-
teuch by heart. Of all roses I liked her the best,
and I thought her the most pleasant of all stars;
for her name was Rosa Stern (Star). And now she
was also the best of friends; for Hymen, the willful
little fellow, had converted her without my knowl-
edge into Mrs. Rosa Freund (friend). At the wish
of her husband, Elias Freund,” I was taken at once
to their home.
Terrible Milwaukee My past lived again, and
all my dreams vanished into thin air. All my old
love affairs and boyish pranks were resurrected. It
was as though my genius wished to make sport of
me. I became once again a boy, a jolly companion;
for there were so many in that city who had known
me in my youth and who were acquainted with all
my pranks, but they have never betrayed me. Faith-
ful friends of my youth ! noble, affectionate souls
It is very touching not to be betrayed. I enjoyed
myself exceedingly at the home of the Freunds. It
was more than pleasant to be received so heartily
and entertained so cordially as teacher and friend
in a beautiful little home near the lake, surrounded
with flowers, inhabited by a happy young couple with
one child. Was there anything more to be desired?
It was a glimpse of paradise. In addition to all this,
I heard the Lorelei at night. My bedroom was near
*Oh, the pity of it! We have learned, to our unspeakable
regret, that the oldest brother of this family, Henry, and his dear,
good wife are among the victims of the ill-fated steamer Schiller.
They were good people, to whom we felt very closely attached. A
tear to the memory of the departed. May God comfort the
mourners l
3O2 IsAAC M. WISE
the lake shore; hence I heard at night the most
beautiful music in the world; viz., the splashing of
the waves as they advanced to the shore and receded.
This sound is fascinating and, at the same time, rest-
ful. I enjoyed my few days’ stay in Milwaukee very
much.
There was but little interest in Judaism. The
whole German population was atheistic. Very many
affected hostility to religion because it was fashion-
able. Among others, I met an atheistic butcher, who
was as fanatical as a crusader of the twelfth cen-
tury. Several fashionable Jews had been baptized,
and there were many on whom the sh'mad would
really have been thrown away; for they were dead
to all spiritual influences. Such as were still faith-
ful to the religion would have been sufficient, as far
as number, intelligence, and wealth went, to form
a respectable congregation; but in lieu thereof they
were divided into three congregations, one of which
gathered for worship only on New-Year and the
Day of Atonement, the second owned a small syna-
gogue, and the third met in an old dancing-school.
The leading people were Captain Levy, Schwartzen-
berg, the Adler, Freund, Stranskie, Rindskopf, Sil-
bermann families, etc. I preached on Saturday in
the little synagogue, and on Sunday, which happened
to be the ninth of Ab, in the rented synagogue. I
spoke quite unreservedly and without apology. I
used plain language, and urged the union of the three
congregations into one reform congregation agree-
able to the spirit of the age. This was done shortly
after my departure. The orthodox people—such as
REM.INIscENCES 3O3
the deceased Loebl Rindskopf, Neustadtel, Schwartz-
enberg, Captain Levy, etc.—reposed too much confi-
dence in me to oppose me, and the friends of progress
seconded my suggestions as a matter of course.
From Milwaukee I went to Detroit, where I
found the beginning of quite a congregation. They
met in the second or third story of some building.
|Mr. Adler,” whom I had sent there some time pre-
viously, was preacher, chagan, and teacher. Things
were apparently moving along well, although con-
ditions were quite primitive and poor. I journeyed
homeward from Detroit.
Outside of Detroit, I had not, in the whole course
of my journeyings, found one teacher, chagan, reader,
or congregational official who had enjoyed even a
common-school education. I had come across not
a single congregation that thought of reform, and
had noticed not even any beginnings suggestive of
higher strivings in Jewish circles. The whole sec-
tion of country through which I had traveled dur-
ing these five or six weeks appeared to me, as far
as Judaism was concerned, like a dead sea. There
was no life, no effort, no becoming, no formation;
and yet I was wrong. Every word that I spoke dur-
ing that trip was a fruitful seed that took root and
sought the light. New congregations were formed
in rapid succession in the places where I had stopped,
and questions of reform were agitated so strongly
that they never ceased being debated. I returned
to Cincinnati dissatisfied, because I had expected
*Rabbi Liebman Adler, later minister of the Anshe Maarab
congregation of Chicago.—[ED.
3O4. Isaac M. WISE
to find harvests where, in fact, seed had still to be
sown, and because my enthusiasm had not found
what my imagination had pictured. It was only later
that I became convinced that not a word had been
lost, and that I had sown on fertile and productive
soil.
Those summer months were full of import. I
had learned to know the Jews in the East, West, and
North. I had become acquainted with the status of
their culture and their capability. I was no longer a
bookworm.
My idealism had suffered, it is true; for the world
was not what I had imagined it to be. Still, I had
won the personal friendship of many influential men
and women. This was not only pleasant, but very
important. The most important achievement of all
was possibly the effect of my journey in Cincinnati.
Reports crowded in from everywhere of what I had
accomplished: my reputation was established. I
was hailed on the one hand and denounced on
the other as a Jewish apostle, messiah, banner-
bearer, announcer of salvation, pope, and great
mogul, until I grew fairly frightened at the thought
of what envy and jealousy might be tempted
to do to me. The effect on my congregation
was remarkable. My people were convinced that
they had the greatest rabbi among all the great rab-
bis of this great universe. It appeared laughable
to me. I thought the people were going somewhat
too far; but I could not convince them to the con-
trary. In the meantime I was preparing myself for
the contingency of a change; for I thought that it
REM.INIscENCES 305
might happen that the dear public would trample
its idol into the mire.
Although I considered the two journeys, which
had cost me several hundred dollars, in the light of
a failure, because I had merely agitated, and not
organized, yet the people in Cincinnati had grown
unboundedly enthusiastic. They went to work in
earnest to open Zion College at once. This was
done against my will and intention; for nothing had
as yet been accomplished outside of this city to
assure the permanence of such an institution. I knew
full well that even in Cincinnati itself only the lead-
ing men favored the plan, while the masses felt no
interest whatsoever in education and culture; but I
was outvoted and persuaded, and permitted myself
to be carried along by the current. The idea was
that Zion College, as a preparatory college, should
be independent of the congregational organization,
should be supported by organizations which, how-
ever, had not yet been formed, except in Cincinnati,
and should be only the beginning of a real college.
Being secretary of the Zion Collegiate Association,
I submitted a report to the society in August, in
which the plan of organization was fully set forth.
I calculated the yearly expenses at seven thousand
dollars. The report was referred to a committee
consisting of Henry Mack, Solomon Friedmann,
Ferdinand Milius, M. Eskales, and Victor H. Loewen-
stein. This committee was instructed to report to
a general meeting of the society. The officers of
the society were: Mosely Ezekiel, president; Henry
Mack, vice-president; Ferd. Milius, treasurer; Isaac
2O
306 ISAAC M. WISE
M. Wise and Isaac C. Hackenberg, secretaries;
J. H. Heinsheimer, Solomon Friedmann, M. Eskales,
and Victor H. Loewenstein, directors. The general
meeting, held about the middle of September, re-
solved to open a class of Zion College as soon as
possible, and pledged itself to meet all the expenses
of the first year, even if the societies outside of Cin-
cinnati contributed nothing. It would have been
foolish and unjust for me to oppose this enthusiasm
any longer. The opening of the college was there-
fore resolved upon.
IV
HE pet project which was continually in my
thoughts was the union of the congregations of
America by firm organization and harmonious co-
operation, this union to found and direct useful in-
stitutions. True, the first attempt to accomplish
this, in 1848, had proved unsuccessful; but, although
the plan had failed owing to indifference and dis-
harmony, yet the ideal remained unaffected and at-
tractive as ever. I kept on agitating the plan in
the public press until finally the idea again assumed
concrete form in August, 1855. After lengthy con-
sultation with several colleagues and friends, the
following call appeared in the Israelite on August
Ioth:
ºny, ºp mºv
THE FIRST CONFERENCE.
In the name of Israel’s God and Israel’s religion the ministers
and delegates of the Israelitish congregations are respectfully
requested to assemble in a conference, to take place the seventeenth
day of October, 5616 A. M., in the city of Cleveland, Ohio, to delib-
erate on the following points:
1. The articles of Union of American Israel in theory and
practice.
2. A plan to organize a regular synod, consisting of delegates
chosen by the congregations and societies, whose plans, privileges,
and duties shall be defined, to be sent to the several congregations
for their approbation.
3. To discuss and refer to a committee a plan for a Minhag'
America, to be reported to the synod at its first session.
3O7
308 Is AAC M. WISE
4. A plan for scholastic education in the lower and higher
branches of learning.
5. Other propositions either sent in by congregations, or made
by the ministers and delegates at the conference.
By order of the American Rabbis.
REv. DRs. COHN, of Albany;
GUENZBURG, of Baltimore;
Hoch HEIMER, of Baltimore;
ILLOwy, of St. Louis;
KALISCH, of Cleveland;
LILIENTHAL, of Cincinnati;
MERZBACHER, of New York;
ROTHENHEIM, of Cincinnati;
WISE, of Cincinnati.
ISAAc M. WISE, Corresponding Secretary.
Much was written, especially by Drs. Lilienthal,
Rothenheim, Kalisch, and Guenzberg, about the
conference and the various points mentioned in this
call. There was not one word published in opposi-
tion to the movement. The signatures to the call
comprised all the officiating rabbis in America at
that time—men of all shades of opinion. Hence
there was really a prospect of a union of all elements
for higher purposes. The very fact that the ortho-
dox rabbis joined with the reformers in signing the
call justified the most glowing expectations. I was
sure of a general agreement on liturgical questions
and of a strong united action in all other under-
takings, notably public instruction. This was, to
my mind, the most important matter. The question
of the ritual was discussed fully and freely in the
Israelite in the hope of settling preliminaries as much
as possible before the convening of the conference.
The points of the ritual that engaged attention
at that time appear strange and childish to-day; but
REM.INIscENCES 309
the age was still in its infancy. Thorough and
learned arguments and discussions were devoted to
the questions of the organ and mixed choirs, this
or that prayer, or its repetition during the service.
I held my peace because all this was, in my opinion,
Only of secondary importance. I considered the
enlightenment of the people and unanimous co-
Operation for great purposes the prime necessity.
Besides, those questions were treated so fully, ear-
nestly, and learnedly by my colleagues that any word
of mine would have been superfluous. Further, I
was very busy, inasmuch as the renovated synagogue
of the B’ne Yeshurun congregation was opened for
service with organ and mixed choir on August 24th.
The building was a neat, beautifully-decorated Gothic
structure, and, although it was located in a poor,
narrow street, yet it looked like the temple of a
prominent reformed congregation. The three lead-
ing officers—Jacob L. Miller, Henry Mack, and
Abraham Aub—assisted by a building committee,
had done the work to the satisfaction of all.
The rededication of the beautiful house of God
was a holiday for Cincinnati Jewry. The chagamim
of the three congregations conducted the services,
supported by a well-drilled choir and a fine organ.
Wise and Lilienthal delivered orations, the liberal
sentiments expressed in which aroused the astonish-
ment of the entire press; for the like thereof had
never been heard in the pulpit. The congregation
was satisfied beyond measure. The first reforms
had been carried out successfully and without oppo-
sition,
3 Io Isaac M. WISE
In addition to all this, I was elected president of
Mt. Carmel Lodge, I. O. B. B., and had to give
the office my attention. Talmid Yelodim Institute
was reopened, and demanded my frequent presence
in the school-rooms. The fall holidays were nigh.
I expected large congregations, and had to write half
a dozen better sermons. I was publishing a novel
in the Israelite, “The Conflagration at Frankfort-on-
the-Main,” whereof I had to write a chapter weekly;
hence I had very little time for other work, and I
wrote very little on the conference and the projects
connected therewith.
At the same time I had the pleasure of witness-
ing the suspension of the “Mission to the Jews” and
its organ, the Jewish Chronicle, of New York. The
Israelite was given credit for this on all hands. We
exposed the hypocrites so thoroughly that they were
forced from the field. I was greatly disquieted by
the Knownothing Party, which condemned all for-
eigners in the lump. I had read an address on this
subject in the B’ne Israel synagogue on the Fourth
of July, which had been extensively copied. A num-
ber of Jews attacked me bitterly on this account.
I had to refute these attacks. This took time. Fur-
ther, this circumstance caused friction between Mrs.
F. and myself. She had a relative who, as a member
of Congress, had tried to have a law passed to the
effect that foreigners should be able to acquire the
right of citizenship only after a residence of twenty-
one years in the country. Like other American aris-
tocrats, Mrs. F. favored the idea, and wrote me a
rather sharp rebuke for opposing this just demand
REM.INIscences 3 II
of the native-born. She wrote that I would serve
mankind to much better effect if I would discuss
thoroughly the questions to be brought before the
conference, and ignore political issues. I was sur-
prised to learn that so noble-hearted a woman could
be so narrow-minded at the same time, and wrote
her the following letter:
My dear, szeweet, noble, magnanimous, liberal Madam :
Since you know full well that I am your most eager pupil and
most obedient servant, you might really treat me more gently and
somewhat less tyrannically. I have never believed, and do not believe
now, that women are tyrants who rule their favorites with a rod of
iron. I think, rather, that you are so vitally concerned about
family politics that you fear lest I might lose your good will by my
recklessness, and since you are aware how much this would pain
me, you want to protect your favorite from incurring this misfor-
tune. Pray inform me which supposition is correct.
Permit me to remark that I think and believe that all men have
equal rights; I feel convinced that any action which tends to deprive
any man, no matter how insignificant he may be in our view, of any
of his rights, constitutes a case of lèse-majesté against mankind, a
barbarous violation of the divine law, and a destructive poison for
the Republic. Since political excitement is running so high at
present that even your clear mind overlooks this for the moment,
and your noble heart turns away from a portion of suffering
humanity, I feel all the more called to discuss the principle
thoroughly and to defend it. The immigrants whom it is intended
to deprive of their rights are my brethren, just as well as those who
intend to wrong them, and who wish to call down the just punish-
ment of Providence upon their heads,
I beg of you, most revered, dearest, noblest of women to recall
the old word, “God help me, I can not do otherwise,” whenever
you will feel tempted to let the lightning of your wrath play upon
your patient, lamb-like, and most humble favorite again. Have
some consideration for me; I am but dust and ashes; exert a some-
what milder rule; Madam, grant, I pray you, freedom of thought !
You will be for me none the less a high lady of most stringent
principles, etc., etc.
I expected a biting reply. Instead thereof, the
good soul wrote considerate and soothing words,
3 I 2 Isa Ac M. WISE
and assured me that I had converted her. Here
again she gave evidence of her noble nature.
Finally, after seven years of struggle and effort,
work and contention, a conference was convened at
Cleveland on October 17, 1855. Rabbis Guenzberg,
Hochheimer, and Illowy remained away. The rest
appeared; and with them came representatives of
various congregations of Cincinnati, Chicago, Cleve-
land, Louisville, and Detroit. Encouraging messages
were received from St. Louis, Baltimore, Boston,
Richmond, etc. Isaac Leeser was present, and, with
the support of the ultra-orthodox delegates learned
in Talmudic lore, precipitated a bitter struggle in
the conference.
We were received very coldly by the Jews of
Cleveland because they feared the reformers; hence
no provision had been made even for a place of meet-
ing, and Rabbi Kalisch was obliged to engage a
room in the medical high school, where he welcomed
us as temporary chairman in an appropriate Hebrew
poem. Two mistakes were made at the very start
in the election of officers: I was elected president;
Dr. Lilienthal secretary, and Dr. Cohn, of Albany,
vice-president. Instead of that, Cohn or Merzbacher
should have been elected president, Leeservice-presi-
dent; and a scribe, and not an orator, should have
been elected secretary.
The fight began on the very first question. The
founding of a synod to represent the United Jewish
Congregations of America for all time, to call into ex-
istence and to superintend useful institutions, was the
chief business in hand; hence, the basis upon which
REM.INISCENCES 3 I 3
such a synod was to rest and such a union could be
formed had to be determined first of all. On the one
side were the reformers, without fixed principles, and
On the other the Orthodox, who wanted the Confer-
ence to declare for the divinity of the Talmud. A union
of these contradictory elements seemed impossible,
and yet it had to take place if the synod and the
union of congregations were to be established. The
debates were violent, the opposing parties obstinate,
and no progress toward an agreement had been made
at the hour of adjournment, late at night. It was
evident that we would either have to relinquish the
plan of a union, which would result in dividing us
into two sects, or a compromise would have to be
agreed upon. Merzbacher and I were considered
the most radical reformers, and Leeser was regarded
as the leader of the orthodox. Therefore we had
to come to some agreement if we wished to accom-
plish anything at all. We met from eleven to four
o'clock during the night, and finally agreed upon
the following declaration, which I was to lay before
the Conference:
The conference of the rabbis and congregational delegates,
assembled in Cleveland, actuated by the earnest desire to preserve
the union of Israel and its religion by a mutual understanding and
union, and convinced that the organization of a synod is the most
efficient means to attain this sacred aim, whose legality and utility
are taught in the Bible, Talmud, and history—consider it their
duty:
To convene a synod and call upon the American Jewish congre-
gations in an extra circular, to send their ministers and delegates to
the said synod.
The conference also feel obliged to give utterance to the follow-
ing points, on which they unanimously agree to be the leading prin-
ciples of the future synods:
I. The Bible as delivered to us by our fathers and as now in our
3 I 4 Is AAC M. WISE
possession, is of immediate divine origin, and the standard of our
religion.
2. The Talmud contains the traditional, legal, and logical expo-
sition of the biblical laws which must be expounded and practiced
according to the comments of the Talmud.
3. The resolutions of the synod, in accordance with the above
principles, are legally valid.
4. Statutes and ordinances, contrary to the laws of the land, are
invalid.
When this was read to the conference during
the session held on the 18th, it was received with
applause by all present. It was considered a peace-
ful solution of the difficult problem. It was, with
few exceptions, the standpoint of the congregations
that were to be represented in the synod. It was
clearly explained and well understood that the con-
ference was not to lay down any prescribed rules or
establish any dogmas for either individuals or con-
gregations. It was to furnish merely a general basis
for the synod which was to be called into being,
without, however, pledging itself that the synod
would rest permanently on that basis. On the con-
trary, both parties assumed with certainty that the
Synod would advance, and not retrograde, and all
were perfectly willing for the synod to introduce
reforms. All that the orthodox party demanded
was consistent and legal reforms. This position was
unobjectionable, provided there was a synod which
would progress all the time as conditions demanded.
The two parties were thoroughly reconciled.
Each one believed itself to have gained the victory,
and all felt that they could go to work. A commit-
tee consisting of Lilienthal, Merzbacher, and Greene-
baum, of Chicago, was commissioned to submit a
REM.INIsCENCES 3 I 5
plan for the establishment of a synod. All the ques-
tions of interest were now taken up one after the
other, and, after being discussed briefly, were re-
ferred to committees which were to report to the
synod. Thus the plan for a Minhag America was
referred to Wise, Rothenheim, Merzbacher, and
Kalisch. All casuistical questions were referred to
Cohn, Kalisch, Merzbacher, and Levy, of Cleveland.
The Committee on Schools consisted of Lilienthal,
Kalisch, and Gotthelf, of Louisville.
The Committee on Synod reported on the 19th.
It was resolved that all officiating rabbis and preach-
ers should be members of the synod ea officio; that
each congregation was entitled to one other dele-
gate, and one more for each hundred members; that
the assembly should be named a synod if it had
seventy or more members, and conference if there
were less; that the synod should found and super-
vise all institutions, but the conference should con-
cern itself with religious questions only. Wise and
Miller, of Cincinnati, were appointed to call the first
synod.
The debates were very interesting, and were con-
ducted calmly and worthily. All the members pres-
ent fraternized, and the suspicious community of
Cleveland was so impressed that before the close of
the meeting they reposed the fullest confidence in
the delegates. As an indication of this, Zion Col-
legiate Association, No. 3, was formed on the even-
ing of the 18th (No. I was in Cincinnati and No. 2
in New York). This event was made the occasion
for the delivery of several enthusiastic addresses.
316 ISAAC M. WISE
I imagined that the battle had been fought and
won. We all knew that we could gain the consent
of the synod to any reform we wanted. Through
the influence of the synod we expected to obtain
general acceptance of the reforms; hence we believed
to have gained a lawful and powerful organ for
progress. The position of Judaism was adjusted to
the laws of the land. Orthodoxy could interpose
no objection to this; hence a hundred difficulties
were disposed of at once. The next synod was to
make provision for the establishment of a college
and congregational schools, as well as for the intro-
duction of a common ritual in the synagogue; hence
all pending questions appeared to be nearing a
peaceful solution. Although I was greatly vexed at
having been condemned to preside at the confer-
ence, because this necessitated that I see and hear
too much and keep quiet, yet I rejoiced heartily at
the victory of progress. It was only eight years
since Merzbacher and I had been the only ones on
the side of reform. We were denounced as willful
disturbers of the peace, and now, in this first Amer-
ican-Jewish conference, the reform element prepon-
derated. Orthodoxy was defeated, and grasped
eagerly at the few concessions which we had made
in order to proceed peaceably and unitedly along
the path upon which we had entered. In my own
soaring imagination I saw American Judaism, which
only ten years before had been so unpromising, pro-
ceed to a glorious future and become a mighty in-
tellectual and moral influence in this country. I was
so sure of victory that I composed triumphal hymns,
ReMINIscences 317
which, upon the advice of Mrs. F., I did not publish
for the good of the reading public. However, I
could not refrain from giving expression in the novel,
“The Conflagration at Frankfort-on-the-Main,”
which was then running in the Israelite, to the glow-
ing enthusiasm that possessed me.
We idealists see light and hope, victory and tri-
umph, where cold reason perceives no noticeable
change. We dip our brush in golden colors, paint
Our Own imaginary pictures, and embrace them as
though they were real creations. The beloved
smiles, and in this smile the enamored idealist im-
agines that he reads a declaration of love. Judaism,
progress—American Judaism free, progressive, en-
lightened, united, and respected—this was my ideal;
and hence in every smile of the beloved I saw a vic-
tory of my love. I have often been woefully deceived.
Still more often and more woefully have I deceived
myself, and that is the worst of all. My joy was
not to last long; the disillusionment followed quickly,
and there began a new struggle which seemed as
though it would never end.
The storm which denuded my tree of hope of its
blossoms broke in the East. Protests against the
resolutions of the conference were published in
Baltimore, Charleston, and New York. These in-
flicted a sore wound upon the unity of American
Judaism. They fell like lightning from a clear sky.
No one expected them; for they proceeded from the
reform camp, whose active support we counted upon
confidently. A split among the reformers, whose
principles were not yet definitely fixed, appeared to
3.18 IsAAC M. WISE
me an event painful and fraught with misfortune.
It depressed and discouraged me completely; for
without union among the reformers, who were in the
minority, no progressive measures could be hoped
for from the synod. There was hope for the vic-
tory of the reform element only on the condition
that its leaders were all united. All the efforts for
union were shattered, for the moment at any rate,
by these protests. Like Jeremiah, I sat upon the
ruins.
Upon the appearance of the second protest, I re-
corded the event in my diary, and added the follow-
ing comment: “Poor Israel, it is not for naught that
thou art reproached with the charge that thy lead-
ers are wanting in political insight. Rehoboam did
not take the counsel of the elders to heart, the king-
dom was divided, the sons of Solomon engaged in
fratricidal combat. In a later day Rome subjected
Judea. Dispossessed of the holy land, we are sway-
ing in mid-air, as it were, without support. Strife,
contention, and disunion are rife among us. Unless
the Lord build the house, in vain is the toil of the
builders.”
The best thing to have done at that time would
have been to go at once to Charleston, Baltimore,
and New York in order to effect a recall of the pro-
tests by personal efforts and explanations. I would
have done this if honor and self-respect had not for-
bidden; for in addition to the protests there appeared
in the German newspaper of Baltimore, and later
in the monthly magazine Sinai, which was established
for this purpose, as well as in the New York As-
REM.INISCENCES 3 I 9
monean, which had come into the possession of a
certain coterie of rabid scribblers, articles on the
conference, its members, officers, and resolutions,
which were so dishonoring, insulting, and abusive,
so charged with personal insults and fierce invectives,
that my enthusiasm cooled perceptibly, my optimism
was sadly diminished, and a feeling of aversion to
all public activity possessed me. We were treated,
not as scholars, rabbis, public teachers of religion,
but like a crowd of political bummers and adventur-
ous tramps; not like men who serve the cause of
all Israel, but like a band of self-seeking, low sharp-
ers, looking only to their own self-aggrandizement,
and that, too, in pithy and biting language, the like
of which we had never met with before, and which
disclosed hatred, rage, and fanaticism rather than
instruction and argument. The brunt of these at-
tacks fell upon Wise, Lilienthal, Rothenheim, and
Kalisch. I was the chief victim because I was looked
upon as the originator and leader of the whole con-
ference.
Here then was I, completely discouraged. I had
fought and suffered so many years in the interest of
reform, had sacrificed my present and my future to
the cause of Judaism; had rejected, both against my
own convictions and the well-meant advice of my
best friends, the choicest opportunities to become
rich and influential, and all for what?—to be scolded
and abused like a street gamin. Although I was
quite indifferent to praise and blame, yet I could
not bear insult and defamation. I looked for such
things from my enemies. I attacked them, and was
32 o Is AAC M. WISE
*
prepared for repayment in like coin; but this de-
structive hailstorm descended from my own sky;
it destroyed all the blossoms and flowers of my fan-
tasy. I remained at home, and the furious fight
lasted for years, and grew more and more violent.
As a matter of fact, no one gained anything by it;
and Judaism and progress suffered immeasurably;
but unchained wrath, even like the noblest love, is
sufficient to itself.
The whole purpose of the conference and the pro-
posed synod was passed over in silence, and the Tal-
mud, together with the men who had attended the
meeting, were made the chief objects of attack. The
cry was that the conference had declared for the
authority of the Talmud. This caused also Philipp-
son and Stein, in Germany, to enter the lists, although
they had no true conception of the circumstances.
As a matter of fact, the opposition acknowledged
later that in time all the questions of reform would
have been solved from the standpoint of the resolu-
tions of the Cleveland conference. We have ad-
vanced no further even at this day. A Biblical-Tal-
mudical basis is sought for the most radical reforms
in the synagogue; but at that time the Talmud was
denounced in unmeasured fashion—yea, it was de-
clared to be immoral, not only in newspaper articles,
but also in sermons—and orthodox Judaism was
represented as being an offense against reason and
morality, and unmercifully scored.
I could not permit this to pass without notice.
After I had fought for years publicly and most suc-
cessfully against the English missionaries, against
ReMINIscENCES 32 I
McAll’s and Eisenmenger's disciples, I could not al-
low an attack to be made on the morality of the Tal-
mud and Orthodoxy within my own camp. Although
I had taken scarcely any part in the fight in the be-
ginning, because it disgusted me (Dr. Lilienthal
wrote most of the articles on the subject in the Is-
Taelite, and Dr. Rothenheim in the Deborah), yet,
under the circumstances, I was compelled to write
and publish in the Israelite several articles, however
unwillingly. This caused still greater bitterness in
the camp of the opposition, and added fuel to the
flame. Kalisch wrote likewise. After I had success-
fully defended the honor of the Talmud and ortho-
dox Judaism on the score of their morality, I be-
gan, in March, 1856, to explain and establish scien-
tifically the significance of the resolutions of the
Cleveland conference. The object of that essay was
to establish the following four propositions:
I. The Talmud amends Biblical laws.
2. The Talmud has rescinded Biblical laws.
3. The Talmud has made new laws.
4. The Talmud has rescinded many of its own
laws.
From this it was readily proven that the synod,
as planned in Cleveland, would be fully justified,
from the Talmudical standpoint, in settling all ques-
tions of reform according to the needs of the time,
particularly as it proceeded from the principle that
the law of the land was binding. Since the matter
rested on a Talmudical basis, Dr. Raphall wrote an
unmeaning tirade against it, because he himself was
no Talmudist; but outside of this there was not a
2T
322 Isa AC M. WISE
word said against it, and the point of contention
would have been removed had not party feeling and
personal venom made every attempt at an under-
standing impossible. &
The conditions which I have just described had
their bright side also. Peace and satisfaction ruled
in my B'ne Yeshurun congregation. A set of reso-
lutions, adopted unanimously at the congregational
meeting, expressed the fullest confidence in me, and
Seconded the resolutions of the conference. The
attacks in the East and my bold defense of the mo–
rality of the Talmud and orthodox Judaism won for
me the confidence of the Orthodox and the moderate
parties; hence my efforts for reform aroused confi-
dence, and this was the reason why the reform move-
ment made such rapid progress in the West and
South. The fight on the Talmud drove me to Tal-
mudical studies once again. Whenever failure was
my portion, whenever I was offended and made un-
happy in life, I took refuge in study in order to forget
the world and myself in it. The more bitterly dis-
appointed, the more deeply wounded I felt, the more
completely I immersed myself in learning and philos-
ophy. I learned from the Talmud a heroic but very
effective remedy to forget personal ills; viz.,
mna Pty Twsºn wr
“If you have a headache, study in the law.” I did
this now. Circumstances led me to the study of .
the Talmud, which I had only referred to now and
then during the past few years, but had not studied.
I studied the Talmud once again; but now, in the
REM.INIscENCES 323
light of the new investigations concerning it, as I
had studied comparative mythology, law, Jewish
philosophy, history, etc., in Albany; day and night
I devoted myself to this work, although my wife
was greatly surprised that I spent the beautiful even-
ings buried among folios; and Mrs. F., to whom I
had described my occupation as a charming diver-
sion, advised me to take up the study also of the Zend-
avesta, the Vedas, and the Chinese Kings, so that
within a few years I might have a very learned ap-
pearance as a galvanized mummy. I did not permit
myself to be diverted from my purpose. I plunged
into the “sea” of the Talmud, lived and moved in
the days of the long ago, and saw the intellectual
giants of the past come to life again in my imagina-
tion. The corrosive, analytical method, the sharp
insight, as well as the fine subtleties and forced in-
terpretations, attracted me wondrously, and I for-
got for hours the present and its misery. No one
will blame me for having read Heine's writings as a
change, because I wanted to learn the fine art of
ridiculing the annoyances of this life.
V
ENERALLY speaking, but little attention was
paid in Cincinnati to what was spoken or writ-
ten elsewhere. There was peace at home. In the
fall of 1855, Zion College was opened with fourteen
students, two of whom were Christians, and five pro-
fessors. The three paid teachers were: Rothenheim,
instructor in Hebrew and German; Cohn, a young
attorney from Charleston, S. C., instructor in Eng-
lish; Junkerman, a teacher of the Talmid Yelodim
Institute, instructor in mathematics. Lilienthal, who
was to teach Latin and French, and Wise, who
was to impart instruction in history, geography, and
archaeology, tendered their services gratis. The be-
ginning was full of encouragement. The class was
composed of intelligent youths, and the teachers were
experts, from whose teachings good results were to
be expected.
True, there was no enthusiasm among the people
at large; but, on the other hand, the few who were
deeply interested in education and culture, of whom
the majority are still living, were all the more act-
ive. They have grown older, but not colder. This
noble band was always to the fore when there was
work to be done in the cause of progress, the rebirth
of Judaism, the weal of humanity. Some of these
noble friends have been called to their eternal re-
324
REM.INIscENCES 32.5
ward; but those that are still alive work on as un-
dauntedly as at that time.
The opening of Zion College was celebrated by
a banquet given in Masonic Hall. The elite of Cin-
cinnati was present. The governor of the State, the
late Chief-Justice Salmon P. Chase, Judge Carter,
and others, were among the speakers. About eight
hundred dollars were subscribed for the college that
evening. Everything looked encouraging, and the
friends of the movement indulged the fondest hopes.
If American Jewry had been ripe for such an un-
dertaking at that time, as some few men in Cincin-
nati and Louisville were, what could not a school
such as that college have accomplished within the
space of twenty years? There would have been no
necessity to look to-day with a Diogenes’ lantern
for educated preachers and teachers fully acquainted
with the English language and conversant with the
customs and habits of the country.* But American
Jewry was not ripe for such an undertaking at that
time. Zion College had been open but a few weeks
when a protest appeared in the Asmonean, of New
York, in which the Zion Collegiate Association of
that city declared itself dissolved. Most bitter and
venomous attacks emanated one after the other from
the East. If we had been horse-thieves, gamblers,
sharks, and tramps, we could not have been more
shamefully treated; and yet, up to this moment, no
one has been able to discover what our offense really
was. Lilienthal and I taught gratis. We were never
reproached with being ignoramuses or incapable of
* This was written in 1875.—[ED.
3.26 Isa AC M. WISE
teaching. The faithful band of energetic men who
stood at the helm of the movement and paid all out-
lays were certainly not deserving of reproach, and
yet we were reviled as though we were veritable
street gamins. I will not deny that I often gnashed
my teeth; for I was carried out of myself with indig-
nation at the thought that there were people to whom
nothing, absolutely nothing, is sacred; but I forced
myself to swallow my wrath and to keep silent, be-
cause a public scandal was distasteful to me. True,
several Eastern papers were at my disposal. I was
even requested by a prominent Eastern editor to
use the columns of his paper for this purpose; but I
remained silent rather than give the scandal wider
publicity. Domestic family polemics were revolting
to me, and I therefore held my peace. It may be
readily imagined that all this did not conduce greatly
to my health, my energy, my enthusiasm, or my de-
sire for work. At times I succumbed to despair, and
it seemed to me that Judaism in America was nigh
to dissolution. I knew well that orthodoxy had been
conquered; but these bitter recriminations in place
of struggle for principle’s sake in the camp of re-
formed Judaism seemed to me the beginning of the
end. True, I had forgotten to take into account the
chief factor, Providence. I overlooked the fact also
that the general public would learn little or nothing
of these polemics, since they were written in the Ger-
man language.
My opponents put forth every effort to displace
the Israelite and the Deborah wherever they had any
influence. In this they succeeded frequently. A fur-
REM.INIscENCES 327
ther circumstance which reduced the number of sub-
scribers to both papers was the many Rabbinic-
Talmudical expositions and discussions which, though
very learned, have little interest for the general
reader. At the same time I came into conflict with
an atheistical weekly published at that time in Cin-
cinnati, and was attacked by all the aesthetes who,
to be in the fashion, affected atheism. There was no
lack of these worthies in Cincinnati at that time.
Their campaign cry was, “Priest! priestſ” This was
to intimidate me, who had fought for progress with
all the powers at my command.
Their efforts were fruitless as far as I personally
was concerned ; but some wounded apostles of the
atheistical stripe who had some influence in certain
houses where they served as book-keepers, clerks,
and the like, contributed not a little towards the
downfall of Zion College. Their sympathy with the
opponents in the East was truly touching. These
people drove me out of the Republican party, which
was just forming at that time, although I sat at the
round table at which that party was born and bap-
tized. I would have nothing to do with these people
even politically. True, Salmon P. Chase called my
attention several times to the fact that it would be
much better to attach myself to the young progress-
ive party at whose head my best friends stood, than
to work for a religious idea in a narrow circle; but
I did not listen, I would not listen. I submitted to
all the public affronts, even though the future of
American Judaism seemed to me dark indeed.
The worst feature of the whole matter was, that I
328 º IsAAC M. WISE
was unable to confide in any one. I wrote in my
diary, and kept silent. People were surprised at my
worn and sickly appearance; my poor wife wept often
enough. But I had to keep silent in order not to
aggravate the evil. It was my peculiar good fortune
that I was treated with especial regard and love by
my congregation and my family, that I had so many,
many friends in Cincinnati round about me, or else
my opponents in all likelihood would have defeated
or killed me.
Quite a heavy European mail lay on my table on
March 14, 1856. A letter, postmarked Paris, at-
tracted my attention first of all. Upon opening it I
read: “Heine is dead! He died on the eighteenth
(of February). To-morrow (the twentieth) he will be
buried in Montmartre.
‘Keine Messe wird man lesen,
Keinen Kaddish wird man sagen.”
I shall not go to the funeral, although Alexander
Weill and the others have already taken their gala
clothes out of pawn for the purpose, for I will have
the toothache. The teeth of the many dogs that
have bit Heine will hurt me for many a day. If you
impart this information to the Americans, do not
forget to add that Heine had the double misfortune
of being a German and a Jew. Every German sol-
dier felt justified in whipping him publicly, because
he was a German poet and author, and because he
was a Jew. Every Jew considered it his duty to pro-
cure for him cheleq l'olam habba; i. e., to let him starve
temporarily, in order to erect a monument to him
REM.INISCENCES 329
fifty years hence. We Jews are very proud of our
great men after they are dead, and we Germans are
so honest that we tear one another to pieces bravely,
etc., etc.”
I had read quite enough for that day. The letters
and newspapers remained untouched upon my table.
I called a carriage, and drove to the lunatic asylum
in order to pass the remainder of the day among the
mentally sick. I succeeded admirably in not hearing
a sensible word the whole day long, although the
physicians took great pains to explain to me the
secrets of mental diseases. After arriving home in
the evening I had my wife read to me from Davis's
“Discoveries in the Spirit Realm.” Thereupon I went
with her to drink a glass of beer, all, all in order to
keep from thinking. I wanted to force myself not
to think and reason, for being also a German and a
Jew I wanted to escape the clubbing of the German
soldiers and the sympathetic “Nebbich” of the Jews at
any time. My wife thought me very stupid and ill-
humored. I would not grant the latter, and in proof
thereof I wrote some silly poetry for her amusement.
My object was gained. I felt convinced that I
had gotten rid of troublesome Madame Reason, and
could return home with easy conscience. However,
the insistent lady reappeared early in the morning.
I was compelled to return to my work, and again go
to thinking. I was vexed and struggled against it;
but all to no avail. I had to begin again to think.
The fact that the Germans tear one another to
pieces, and that no German writer escapes brutal
attacks and bloody contests, seemed to me to be
33O ISAAC M. WISE
the outcome of the political disruption of Ger-
many. The Bavarian had to hate, or at least
mock and revile, the Hessian; both of them the
Saxon, each of these the Prussian, and all combined
the Austrian. This explained to me sufficiently the
mutual ill-will and the incapacity of the German-
Jewish congregations to unite and work together.
They were Germans who had learned the lessons of
disunion and hatred thoroughly under the tutelage
of thirty-six rulers. I attributed the coarseness and
rudeness of their public mouthpieces, as given ex-
pression to in their published polemics, to their village
life, for seventy per cent of all Germans, be they Jews
or Christians, spend their life among peasants and
boors, and have therefore no conception of higher
culture and refinement, elegance of behavior or man-
ners. Even in the cities they remain peasants for a
long time. It was very plain to me that the Jew had
brought all these characteristics from Germany to
this country; for the Germany of that time was not
the Germany of to-day.
But why have Jews so little regard for one an-
other, that they revile and traduce each other ? How
is it that a highly-honored public applauds ioudly
whenever literary rowdies squabble like street gamins,
and throw mud at decent people? Whence comes
this wretched imitation of Christian customs, good
and bad, by Jews; this cringing to every Christian
fashion; this eager association with, this humble atti-
tude towards every Christian, even though he be a
knave, for no other reason than that he is not a
Jew? Whence this disgusting phenomenon P I could
REM.INIscENCEs 33 I
find but one answer to these questions: The century-
long oppression has demoralized the German and
Polish Jew, and robbed him of his self-respect. He
has no self-respect, no pride left. The hep ! hep !
times still weigh him down; he bows and scrapes, he
crawls and cringes. The Jew respects not the fellow-
man in another Jew, because he lacks the conscious-
ness of manhood in himself. He parodies and imi-
tates, because he has lost himself. After diagnosing
the evil, I set myself to seeking a remedy.
The Jew must be Americanized, I said to myself,
for every German book, every German word reminds
him of the old disgrace. If he continues under Ger-
man influences as they are now in this country, he
must become either a bigot or an atheist, a satellite
or a tyrant. He will never be aroused to self-con-
sciousness or to independent thought. The Jew must
become an American, in order to gain the proud self-
consciousness of the free-born man. From that hour
I began to Americanize with all my might, and was
as enthusiastic for this as I was for reform. Since
then, as a matter of course, the German element here,
as well as in Germany, has completely changed, al-
though Judeophobia and uncouthness have survived
in many; but at that time it appeared to me that there
was but one remedy that would prove effective for
my co-religionists, and that was to Americanize them
thoroughly. We must be not only American citi-
zens, but become Americans through and through
outside of the synagogue. This was my cry then
and many years thereafter. This, too, increased the
hatred of my opponents considerably.
332 IsAAC M. WISE
“But, if I succeed in Americanizing my co-relig-
ionists, will not Judaism disappear in Americanism,”
I asked myself, “even as the native Jewish element
has approached the different sects so closely in vari-
ous localities? This must be counteracted by a better
knowledge of Jewish history and Jewish sources.”
My conviction was that a Jewish patriotism, a pride
in being a Jew, must be aroused; for this it was that
the Jew had lost in the ages of oppression.
The all-important question now forced itself—
how P The means to Americanize were easy to find
and apply; the means to Judaize were, however, not
so apparent. I could not preach my ideas to the
whole world, nor could I create an Americanizing-
Judaizing literature singlehanded. After lengthy re-
flection I arrived at the following conclusions:
I. To emphasize strongly the historical mission
of Israel in all my speeches and writings, in order to
arouse a consecrated self-consciousness.
2. To bring before the public the bright side of
the Jewish character, and to leave it to the enemy
to exploit our faults; thus to arouse a feeling of self-
respect.
3. To popularize by spoken and written words as
much Jewish learning as I might possess, in order to
inculcate in others respect for Jewish literature.
4. To familiarize the reading public with the bril-
liant periods of Jewish history in fictional form, in
order to appeal by this means to the growing youth
so as to awaken in them Jewish patriotism, for there
could be no doubt that they would Americanize them-
selves.
REMINISCENCES 333
After I had reached the determination how to go
to work, I proceeded to do so at once. I had re-
solved firmly to pay no attention to what my op-
ponents said or wrote. My resolution was to succeed
or succumb. I determined that I must bring about
a radical reform of character among the public, if
there was to be any improvement. I continued to
study Talmud and Jewish philosophy. I spoke but
little. My public addresses were very short, and I
wrote still less. Drs. Lilienthal, Kalisch, and Rothen-
heim did most of the writing in the Israelite and
the Deborah. Dr. Nathan Mayer conducted the de-
partment of belles-lettres, wove incidents from Span-
ish-Jewish history into articles, and wrote also the
beautiful novel, “The Count and the Jewess,” that was
founded on the legends concerning the chief rabbi
Loew of Prague. Simon Tuska, of blessed memory,
wrote “Oriental Legends” and some leading articles;
Rothenheim wrote on “Spirit and Disposition;” and
I wrote short aricles, and occasionally longer ones
in case I had to enter the lists against Judeophobia.
I was quite passive, lived in solitude as far as possible,
and was exceedingly uncompanionable. At times I
was overcome with poetical moods, which I repressed
forcibly, because I felt inclined to be too sarcastic
and satirical. I did not succeed in repressing this
altogether, for it came to the fore in a novel, “Er kann
noch sein Glueck machen,” which appeared in the
Deborah, and in a comedy, “Der maskirte Liebhaber.”
I had to struggle continually against the inclination
to write such productions.
The leading character in the novel aforementioned
334 IsAAc M. WISE
was a Bohemian schoolmaster, who had been crossed
in love. He came to America with a number of
partially-educated students of Prague, and found the
immigrants in New York to be rude companions. I
had them wander through the country as far as Cali-
fornia in the rôles of peddlers, schoolteachers, phy-
sicians, lawyers, professors, etc., and let them describe
their experiences and the peculiar conditions of the
time. If there had not been so much biting irony in
the novel, it would have possessed some value as a
true picture of prevailing conditions. -
The comedy owed its existence to the poverty of
the Jewish hospital. The hospital needed money,
and I wrote a comedy, which was performed by ama-
teurs in the Allemania for the benefit of the hospital.
It achieved its purpose. A gracious audience laughed
and applauded. There were occasional hisses and
whistlings, because I castigated unmercifully the
prevalent evil, card-playing. I was convinced that
I could not make a reputation as a playwright, and
renounced this aesthetic occupation after the first
attempt. -
The public examinations of the Talmid Yelodim
Institute and of Zion College took place at the end
of June. The results achieved in both institutions
were lauded highly. In order to put the vacation to
the best use, I packed my valise and went traveling.
I took almost the same trip as I did the year before,
via Indianapolis, Terre Haute, and Vincennes to St.
Louis, then via Quincy, etc., to Chicago and Mil-
waukee, preached in most of these places, and em-
REM.INISCENCES 3.35
ployed the remainder of my time in sketching novels
and writing letters to the Israelite. I received encour-
aging promises everywhere, and some small contri-
butions for Zion College, not much more, however,
than I had used for traveling expenses. I saw
the end staring me in the face, for the enthusiasm
had not reached the pockets, and I was too proud to
beg. True, I can beg for the poor, the sick, the un-
fortunate; but I can not do so for a great and holy
cause, because this appears to me like a lowering of
the same, and because I always imagine that every
noble person must take an interest in a holy cause
of his own accord; he who can not or will not do this,
does not deserve to have his name mentioned in con-
nection with a great movement. I did not beg.
I returned to Cincinnati in the middle of August.
Talmid Yelodim Institute and Zion College were
reopened, and there was sufficient work to do. I had
brought back with me sketches for three novels, which
I developed later and published in the Israelite. The
first, which began to appear in the issue of August
29th, was entitled, “The Last Struggle of the Nation;
or, Rabbi Akiba and His Time.” The leading char-
acters were Bar Kokhba and Rabbi Aqiba, and their
most prominent contemporaries. I introduced the
young Rabbi Meir in the rôle of the lover; Acher,
the traitorous Samaritans, Turnus Rufus, and several
other Romans furnished the darker side of the pic-
ture. I had to invent the female characters. I gave
Bar Kokhba a heroic wife, and introduced Beruriah
as her foster-daughter. She was, as may be imagined,
336 e IsAAC M. WISE
Meir's beloved. I gave Rabbi Aqiba also a heroic
daughter, who spurns the love of Acher, and drives
him to despair.
I included within these outlines all the historical
events from the beginning of the revolution to the
fall of Bethar and the flight of Meir to the East. I
put into the mouths of the prominent Tanaim their
own words and ideas, as reported in the Talmud and
Midrash. I described as faithfully as possible the
customs, habits, views, the patriotism, the heroism,
the victories and defeats, the joys and sufferings of
that period of storm and stress. I had in mind the
twofold object of awakening once again Jewish pa-
triotism, and of popularizing an important portion
of Jewish literature.
The selection was fortunate, for Rabbi Aqiba, his
contemporaries, and his pupils were the most exalted
examples of rabbinical wisdom. They were unex-
celled in moral depth and spiritual elevation. An
abundance of truths and noble deeds, such as are
reported from that time, is well adapted to instil re-
spect and arouse eagerness to know all there is to
know of the period. That epoch, so rich in achieve-
ments, was well suited to furnish expression to glow-
ing enthusiasm and fiery patriotism. The account of
how the Jewish people arose, how it struggled even
unto death against all-powerful Rome, how it fought
heroically and finally succumbed, must arouse every
reader. Whoever has a spark of Jewish feeling must
be deeply thrilled by those great deeds. Yes, the
selection was fortunate, I mused. I grew enthusi-
astic, I rejoiced, I wept while writing. Being in the
REM.INIscENCES 337
company of those heroes, I often forgot the present.
Thousands, as I knew well, read the novel eagerly,
and it left a deep impression on thousands. The fact
that the classical figures were Jews and not Greeks,
or at least Romans, displeased some critics. The
anti-Talmudical agitators were chagrined at seeing
prominent Talmudists appear in so popular a garb.
But the novel was read more widely than anything
had ever been read in American Jewish circles.
The other two historical novels were elaborated
later. The one was entitled, “The Combat of the
People; or, Hillel and Herod.” In this novel Hillel,
his son Simon, and their rabbinical contemporaries,
Herod, his relatives and his couriers appeared as the
characters. The other was entitled, “The First of the
Maccabees,” and treated the period from the arousal
of the Jewish people by the Asmonean and his sons to
the re-dedication of the temple at Jerusalem. Jose
ben Joezer was made one of the principal characters.
Both novels were written along similar lines as the
first. I am still of the conviction that these novels,
and those written later by Nathan Mayer and H. H.
Moos, not only established and lent prosperity to the
Israelite and the Deborah, but that they had a telling
influence on thousands of readers in the way of arous-
ing patriotism and a desire for Jewish learning. They
thus accomplished their purpose fully, although I
never had any ambition to become renowned as a
novelist. Thousands of copies of the last-named
stories were sold in a second edition.
Two events that took place in October, 1856, made
a deep impression upon me. Gabriel Riesser, of Ham-
22
338 ISAAC M. WISE
burg, the mighty champion of the emancipation of
the German Jews, and vice-president of the Parlia-
ment of Frankfurt in 1848, traveled through the
United States, and visited Cincinnati in the course
of his journey. It was from the journal edited by this
man that I learned in 1831, in a distant village in
Bohemia, that the Jew also has inborn human rights
that must be respected by every honorable man. I
remember still how he told the German country
squires, soldiers, and pikemen boldly: “You have the
cannon and you have the power; therefore you are
what you want to be, and will not let us become what
we might be. Give us the cannon, give us the power,
and we will be what we wish to be, and let you be
what you can.” Severely as I was scolded by my aged
Talmud teacher whenever I read a German book or
magazine, I yet managed to procure every leaflet
that bore the name of Gabriel Riesser, and I read
it with childish delight. I had to weep frequently at
the wrongs which he revealed, and at the mighty lan-
guage with which he castigated. Thus I came to re-
spect the man highly, although I had never seen him,
and I devoured eagerly all that he wrote. It was his
fault that I could not endure to remain in narrow-
minded Austria after I had reached the years of dis-
cretion. And now, after many years, this highly-
respected man, this apostle of the right, was coming
to us to the United States, in order to see in its prac-
tical workings the most perfect realization of the idea
of human rights in the world. He came also to Cin-
cinnati, and nothing was left undone to honor him
worthily. A banquet was tendered him in the Alle-
REMINISCENces 339
mania Hall. The most prominent men of Cincinnati
Jewry were present. The honored guest was glorified
in toasts and speeches. But he had scarcely left the
city ere the editor of a German weekly attacked the
“apostle of the Jews” savagely, because he was a
Gothaer, and not a republican. At present they are
all Gothaers, but at that time there were still many
world-improvers among us, who wanted to annex
America to Germany, and to establish a European
republic at once in Utopia. That editor belonged to
this class of world-improvers, and he attacked the
Gothaer and Jewish apostle Gabriel Riesser violently,
coarsely, and unjustly.
It need scarcely be mentioned that this proceed-
ing of a fellow-editor, even though he carried but
little weight in the literary world, exercised me
greatly, and that I did not treat him very tenderly;
in truth, I was greatly excited. I must state, how-
ever, that my Jewish opponents were so shameless as
to goad this editor on, and to furnish him secretly
with the means to continue the controversy. This
reached so disgusting a stage at last, that I, for de-
cency’s sake, felt compelled to withdraw. Therefore
they said to each other, “It serves him right; he is
continually quarreling.” This was my reward fre-
quently for championing the cause of Jews and Juda-
ism. At that time, however, the experience was
novel, and it grieved me much.
VI
T the same time the information reached us that
Dr. Merzbacher had died suddenly in New York,
and that the holy orthodox party was greatly rejoiced
thereat. A magnificent memorial service was held
in my temple, which was attended by a large con-
course of people from all the congregations to honor
the memory of the departed teacher in Israel. The
three rabbis of Cincinnati spoke impressive words
of appreciation. The choir, accompanied by the or-
gan, rendered a superb requiem. I had just enough
strength left to describe this and to write an obituary
notice on my departed friend. The Israelite appeared
the following Friday in mourning, and I lay sick and
broken down in my study. I rallied from the tonic
spasm after several days, roused myself, and went
to work again. T felt no especial desire to work, but
I worked anyhow.
As often as discussions arose in the Jewish camp,
the English missionaries seized the opportunity to
attract public attention to themselves. Of late they
had taken a new tack; they had declared reform Juda-
ism to be vague and insipid rationalism, and had called
us blind guides of the blind, who were leading the
Jewish congregations to orthodox Christianity. They
volunteered to assist us in this, as a matter of course.
It is true that Kalisch had written a book, “The
34O
REM.INIscENCEs 34. I
Guide,” etc., in which he laid the weak spots of ortho-
dox Christianity bare; but the book had been written
in German. The English version did not appear till
1ater. There was none other who wrote a word for
Judaism. Not one of the blatant celebrities who
had appeared on the horizon of late would undertake
to enter the lists with Christianity, and thus the mis-
sionaries always had a free field. I knew not what
to do. I was too busily engaged otherwise to be able
to undertake a thorough study of Christian sources.
I had to meet the missionaries on their own ground,
and direct the combat thither, if I was to gain a tell-
ing victory. Both the desire and the time were lack-
ing. A complete file of the Faithful Missionary, by
S. Hoga, which had appeared in Berlin as a weekly,
was in my possession. This S. Hoga was a baptized
Jew, who had worked in London for the missionary
society, and had been particularly active in making
Hebrew translations. After he tired of this, he went
to Berlin, and published there the Faithful Missionary,
in which he exposed unsparingly the impostures and
the methods of the missionary society. This work
aroused no attention in Germany, because it had ap-
peared in English. It was suppressed in England,
and it was unknown in America. I turned to the
Zir Ne’man (this was the Hebrew name of the paper)
in my extremity, and republished the whole thing in
the Israelite. This was not without its immediate
effect; but it led to no permanent victory.
It happened frequently that Jews who had been
bought by missionaries at high prices came to me in
a piteous plight, and begged for readmission into
342 ISAAC M. WISE
&
Judaism; others got rid of the baptismal water by
mere forgetfulness. Let me describe one of these
cases. I noticed a simply-dressed workman sitting
in the temple every Sabbath and holiday. He was
exceedingly devout. The man attracted my notice,
although I never had the opportunity of forming his
personal acquaintance. I paid especial attention to
him on the Day of Atonement, and noticed that he
did not leave his place in the temple once during the
whole day.
Shortly after this the man came to me, and told
me that he had been employed in the business house
of N. N., and that he had saved quite a sum of money.
On his arrival in New York he had fallen into the
clutches of the missionaries, had become converted
through the influence of money and fair words, had
obtained employment of some kind in the mission,
where he had remained for two years. Thereupon
he had repented of the step he had taken, had come
to this city, had found employment, and now wished
to repair his mistake.
The main question in my mind was naturally, Is
this true repentance, or is it hypocrisy P. How was
I to find this out?
I discovered that he had saved four hundred dol-
lars, which he had deposited in the savings bank.
“You sold your Judaism for money,” I said, upon
reflection. “It will cost you a monetary sacrifice to
be readmitted into the fold. Bring me your four
hundred dollars, and I will manage your readmission
into Judaism.”
He looked at me wonderingly, and made a wry
REM.INIscENCES 343
face. He bargained with me; but I vouchsafed him
no further answer. He went away, returned, offered
me one hundred, two hundred, finally three hundred
dollars. I was unmoved. He complained bitterly at
having to give up all his money that had been so hard
to earn. I remained unmoved; not even a word of
compassion did I utter. Finally he came and brought
me four hundred dollars, just drawn from the savings
bank. I took the money, taught him, and when he
had finished and was completely satisfied, I returned
him his money, and told him that I had no other
means to satisfy myself of his sincerity. He was
completely overwhelmed, and I was satisfied with the
result.
I have mentioned the three rabbis of Cincinnati,
and must add that the Ahawath Achim Congregation
had called Rabbi Isidor Kalisch from Cleveland to
this city, so that Cincinnati had at this time three
officiating rabbis. Rothenheim had no position.
We took up the Minhag America question again
during the winter of 1856-1857. Rothenheim was
chosen member of the commission in place of the
late Merzbacher. We had all agreed on the principles
that were to mark the prayer-book. It was out of the
question to retain the old prayers unchanged, because
the belief in the coming of a personal Messiah de-
scended from the house of David had disappeared
from among the people. The return to Palestine, the
restoration of the Davidic dynasty, of the sacrificial
cult, and the accompanying priestly caste, were
neither articles of faith nor commandments of Juda-
ism, while the lamentations over oppression and per-
344 Is AAC M. WISE
secution, and the accompanying cry for vengeance
were untrue and immoral as far as American Jews
were concerned. The cabalistical portions which
had crept into the prayer-book, and the obstinate ad-
herence to the doctrine of the bodily resurrection,
were regarded as unjustified. We were also agreed
that the Sabbath service, including the sermon, should
not last longer than two hours. And this was made
quite possible by our adopting the triennial cycle of
readings from the Torah. We determined further
that as little change as possible should be made in
the order of the prayers and in the typical prayers;
in fact, no more than the principles we had adopted
and the length of time of the public service made nec-
essary. We resolved to publish an English and Ger-
man, as well as a Hebrew, version of the prayers, and
that it should be left to the congregation to decide
upon what language it wished to use in the rendition
of the service.
Opinions were at first divided in regard to the
prayer for bodily resurrection, mekhalkel chayim.
Since Moses Maimonides had retained that prayer as
it was, although he spoke decisively concerning the
immortality of the soul, and says not a word about
bodily resurrection in his Hilkhoth Tºshubah, he must
have considered it to refer to the immortality of the
soul; therefore we thought it unnecessary to change
the passage.
We determined to publish the work after we had
finished it, and submit it to the synod, in case it should
be convened; if not, it was to be submitted to the con-
gregations directly.
REM.INIscENCEs 34.5
With this understanding we went to work. Wise
was the referee, Kalisch and Rothenheim the critics.
Whatever was not adopted unanimously, was re-
jected. Wise made the English version, for which
Nathan Mayer furnished metrical translations. Ka-
lisch and Rothenheim composed the metrical por-
tions of the German version. The prose German
translations were divided among the three. The com-
mission met in my library, and finished the work in
thirty-eight sessions. They adhered anxiously to tra-
dition; they had no desire to found a new religion, or
to institute a new cult. They wished to recast the
old and traditional prayers reverently, so that they
might be brought into accord with the religious
consciousness of the time and the democratic prin-
ciples of the new fatherland.
After the work was finished, Bloch & Company
had to defray the cost of publication. The firm, how-
ever, had but little money and scarely any typesetters
who were able to set Hebrew type. Yet the book ap-
peared in Hebrew, English, and German; but, pray
do not ask me how; and before the last leaf had left
the press, it had been derided and decried throughout
the land, although only the first part (without the
services for New-Year's Day and the Day of Atone-
ment) had appeared. The name, Minhag America,
was popular; but not the book, which was attacked
savagely in both camps in the East, and rejected.
My congregation was the first to adopt the book;
but not without objections being raised. The vote
stood one hundred and ten to eighteen. The eighteen
dissentients, however, joined the majority, in order
346 ISAAC M. WISE
to make it appear that the book had been adopted
unanimously; but otherwise progress was slow. In-
dividual Jews scattered throughout the country or-
dered the book; but the congregations held aloof.
The old prayer-book was deeply rooted in home,
School, and synagogue.
It was in the summer of 1857 that the Minhag
America finally appeared. For eleven years I had
cherished the idea, and now it was consummated;
but it was attacked with all the weapons possible im-
mediately upon its appearance, and yet it is the only
monument of the first Cleveland conference, and is
now used in at least one-third of all American Jewish
congregations. It forced Szold and Huebsch to a
like step, and made the use of the old ritual an im-
possibility in America.
The financial crisis of 1857, the publication of the
Minhag America and of two books that were not paid
for, together with the continuous attacks in the East
On everything that appeared in this city, weakened
the firm of Bloch & Company to such a degree, that
the further publication of the Israelite and the Deborah,
which were not yet self-sustaining, was extremely
doubtful. All sources of help were almost exhausted.
There were no friends in 1857 who had the money to
advance, notably for such an uncertain venture, with
the single exception of Mrs. B., who visited me at the
end of August, and desired exact information about
the financial situation. I was compelled to take ad-
vantage of her kindness, and to borrow a thousand
dollars, in order to save the two papers in case of
REM.INIscENCEs 347
necessity. Happily this did not prove needful, and
I was able to return the money before December.
Life is bitter indeed, if one has to think, read, and
write day and night; is scolded and criticised on all
sides; is poor as a church-mouse, and has to put up
with all possible objectionable conditions, in order
to have the pleasure of being permitted to unload
one’s ideas upon a highly-honored public. And yet
I owed it to my friends not to retire from the public
arena, nor would I give my enemies this satisfaction.
Somehow or other I imagined that Judaism needed my
work and my aid; and therefore I could not give up.
I explained all this to my wife as plainly as possible,
and showed her that there were ways and means of
remedying this lamentable condition of affairs. But
she knew me too well to advise me to enter upon an-
Other career. She would reduce expenses, she said; we
could live on much less, and she mentioned a number
of luxuries in which we had indulged ourselves. She
kept her promise, became very economical and sav-
ing. For three months I did not smoke a cigar, and
drank but one glass of beer a day, in order not to
be behind the good woman in self-denial; but no one
besides us two was to learn how sensible we had
grown of a sudden.
In the meantime the Louisville congregation re-
solved to introduce the Minhag America, on the con-
dition that I preach once a month in Louisville, and
superintend the Sabbath-school. They offered me
five hundred dollars a year, and elected me rabbi of
the congregation. My congregation, however, would
348 IsAAC M. WISE
not consent to this arrangement, and increased my
salary five hundred dollars per annum. I have never
sought a position, nor asked for an increase of salary.
However, the election in Louisville, the refusal of the
same, and the increase of my salary by my congrega-
tion, were flattering marks of approval under the con-
ditions above mentioned, and welcome indeed to me.
I had to consent. I was much attracted by the Louis-
ville offer; but I could not induce my congregation
to consent to the arrangement, so I had to rest con-
tent with the increase of salary, which, however,
helped me but little. I began to smoke cigars again,
and bought my wife the material for a beautiful black
silk dress. Mrs. B. wrote me a satirical poem of con-
gratulation, in which she said that inasmuch as the
congregation had allowed me five hundred dollars
more annually for printing expenses, I would un-
doubtedly soon edit a new paper, of which she ordered
ten copies in advance. I answered that I would wait
until the old debts had been paid, and until she had
resolved to appear in public as a poet.
[As stated in the introduction, the reminiscenses
stop very abruptly. I have added the subjoined pages
in order to give the volume an appropriate end-
ing.—ED.]
THE CLOSING SCENES
349
THE CLOSING SCENES OF A GREAT
LIFE
42
HE week following the death of Dr. Wise, the
Israelite issued a memorial number. The editor
of this volume was requested to write, as a contri-
bution to this number, a description of the closing
scenes of the life that had passed to the realm of
eternity. This brief essay, written within the shadow
of a great grief, is reproduced without change:
“May the Lord bless thee and keep thee! May
the Lord let his countenance shine upon thee and
be gracious to thee! May the Lord lift up his coun-
tenance to thee and grant thee peace l’
The priestly benediction was the subject of the
last discourse of the master; each one who had the
privilege of being present at that service must con-
sider himself especially blessed, and must feel how
singularly appropriate it was that he took leave,
though unknowingly, of his people in these soulful
words that have sounded through the ages as the
blessing of God upon his people. Never had he
preached better; although the body had been grow-
ing weaker, yet the spirit glowed none the less
luminously than in the days of his youthful vigor.
It was his Swan song; loudly and clearly the ringing
35I
352 Isa Ac M. WISE
voice sounded through the halls of the spacious
temple, and the lessons which he drew for his people
from that text will abide forever in the hearts and
lives of those who listened for the last time to the
wise utterances of the prophet who had stood for
years upon the watch-tower of Zion and proclaimed
the truth of the Lord. After the services were con-
cluded, he was affectionately accosted and sur-
rounded, as had been the case weekly for years, by
dear ones and by friends, and for each one he had
a genial word; the ever-young patriarch smiled his
benediction even as he had spoken it, and so he
passed out of the life of his congregation with a
blessing upon his lips and with love in his heart,
a precious memory, a priceless legacy
From out the temple halls he wended his way to
that other temple, his home, and there his bright
cheeriness enlivened the midday meal; no sign was
there of the approaching calamity; in response to a
wish expressed by one of the company for the posses-
sion of the beautiful sermon of the morning, he prom-
ised to write it out for publication. With a light,
happy word of parting, he left his home to repair
to that third sanctuary of his, the college, and his
last service on earth was performed in the cause
that lay nearest to his heart, the instruction of his
disciples. The moments wore on ; the hour came
to its close; the afternoon service in the college
chapel had begun; teachers and pupils had repaired
thither. The father of the college had remained be-
low; without warning the blow fell; loving hands
helped him to the couch; skilled physicians were
CLOSING SCENES 353
y
*...*
summoned, but he was past all human help, although
the seriousness of the blow did not appear at first.
He was carried to the home whence a few short
hours before he had gone forth, and the beginning
of the end was come. The weary hours of the night
passed; he grew steadily worse; the dawn brought
no comfort; the man of science expressed his fears
for the worst. The morning dragged slowly on ;
the great mind lapsed into semi-consciousness; the
dear voice tried to shape a message, but to no avail;
the hand skilled in writing refused to obey for the
first time the will of the master. The afternoon wore
On ; the night, too, and brought no change.
The last day, Monday, dawned; consciousness had
fled; he knew no pain; thank God for that From
the very first hour that he had been brought back
to her, the tender wife sat by him devotedly, patiently,
hoping against hope; on that Monday morning she
knew that the closing scene in the earthly life of
her beloved was drawing toward its consummation.
The children watched with her; one by one the col-
leagues and pupils came to condole with her and
them. Below stairs friends made anxious inquiries.
In the chamber of death naught but the breathing
of the stricken man could be heard; the silence was
intense; he lay in perfect quiet. As the day ad-
vanced his breathing grew softer and lower. The
afternoon declined apace; those present felt that
they were standing on holy ground. It was a won-
drous picture. The westering sun was sinking be-
low the hills; dusk was enshrouding the chamber;
the central figure was scarcely breathing; he seemed
23
e 3.54 IsAAC M. WISE
to be sleeping gently as a little child; there was
perfect peace; for hours the faithful wife had knelt
by the bedside with her arms thrown around him,
peering into the beloved face, but no responsive light
came from the eyes that were almost closed in the
last long sleep. The weeping children and the few
sorrowing friends who had watched the livelong day
stood about the bed, a living frame to the picture.
The sun had set; the shadows were lengthening ;
fainter and fainter grew the light of day; softer and
softer sounded the breathing; more and more peace-
ful became the beloved countenance; not a word
was spoken, not a sound was heard; a great soul
was taking its flight; the mystery of mysteries was
being enacted; he was at the door of the Infinite;
brokenly his oldest colleague spoke: “The Lord has
given, the Lord has taken away; may the name of
the Lord be blessed l’” The end had come. God
kissed him, and he slept.
RABBI ISAAC M. WISE
Nº
He came into the Camp of Creed,
The Sword of Strength within his hand,
To scatter forth the bigot breed
And smite them from the Promised Land;
To hew each hoary falsehood down
And humble ancient arrogance,
And Error fled before his frown,
While Truth was glad beneath his glance.
He labored where his duty led—
Unflinching stood in every storm
That beat about his fearless head,
And thundered forth the word “Reform l’”
Earth's farthest nations heard his voice
Unto the utmost purple seas,
And all found reason to rejoice,
From Polar Lands to Pyrenees.
From depths of long, nigrescent nights
We grasp the gospel that he gave,
A message come from starry heights,
Sent forth to succor and to save.
If Jew or Gentile matters not,
For rights and righteousness of each
Alike was wrought his toiling thought,
And flamed the splendor of his speech.
Our reaching reason gropes along
His 10fty path toward the light,
Consoled and strengthened by the song
His spirit sends us from his flight.
355
356
ISAAC M. WISE
We pray our searching souls may find
The higher things for which he stood;
He fought for freedom of the mind,
And for a broader brotherhood.
A modern Moses sent to 1ead
His people up to lustrous lands,
To free them from the chains of creed
And superstition’s cruel bands;
To guide uncertain feet from out
The darkened paths in which they stray,
Amid the desert sands of doubt,
Unto the everlasting day.
He told not of God’s wrath, but taught
The lesson of His love instead,
Till narrow tenets came to naught,
And fierce fanaticism fled.
Who knew his mental majesty,
Or felt his nature's gentle grace,
From pious prejudice was free,
Nor nursed a senseless hate of race.
Yes, he was great, as men are great
Who scorn the cramping lines of creed,
Who leave us still our earth’s estate,
Yet fill our nature’s in most need.
And so, with each recurring spring,
While roses blow and lilies bloom,
The world will tender tribute bring
To lay upon his hallowed tomb.
—WALTER SCOTT HURT.
GLOSSARY
wº
NoTE.—In transliterating the Hebrew, I have used ch as the equiva-
lent for cheth, K for Kay, Kh for Kaf without the dagesh, tz for £2addi,
Q for gof.-LED.
Adon Oſam. A hymn sung or read at the beginning or the
end of the service; spoken also in the night prayer.
Aron haggodesh. The ark containing the scrolls of the law.
Askenaz. German.
Battim. The cases of the phylacteries containing the scrip-
tural passages: Exod. xiii, I–IO and II-I6, and Deut vi,
4-9, and xi, I3-2I.
Benshen. To say grace.
Beth Dín. A court comprised of learned men, usually three
in number, who decided questions of ritual, and prac-
ticed and performed rabbinical functions.
Beth ha-ehayim. Cemetery.
Bevonos. According to sins.
Bimah. The reading desk in the synagogue.
B’reshith. The book of Genesis.
B'rith Milah. The covenant of circumcision.
Chaber. A title which may perhaps be rendered best by the
equivalent Bachelor of Hebrew Literature; literally,
associate.
Chai pasch. Eighteen pfennig; i. e., about four and one-half
cents. Chai is the Hebrew cheth, yod, i.e., eight and ten.
Chakham. A wise man. Among Portuguese Jews the rabbi
of the congregation is called by this title.
Chasid. A pious man.
Chazan. Cantor.
357
358 Isaac M. WISE
Chazon. See Sabbath Chazon.
Chebrah (plur. chebroth). Charitable association.
Cheleq t'olam habba. “A share in the bliss of the future life.”
Chidegel. One of the four rivers mentioned in the second
chapter of Genesis as flowing through the Garden of
Eden; the river Tigris.
Chol hammoed. The days intervening between the first and
last days of the feasts of Passover and Tabernacles.
Dayan. Judge.
En Komokho. “There is none like Thee, O God;” the open-
ing words of a hymn sung before the Torah is taken
from the ark.
Eretz Yisrael. “Palestinian earth.” Pious Jews formerly se-
cured a bit of the earth from the Holy Land, which was
placed in their coffin.
Ethrag. Citron; one of the four fruits commanded to be
brought on the Feast of Tabernacles.
Gallachim. Priests.
Galath. Exile. Before the Jews were emancipated in the
nineteenth century they considered themselves in a
state of exile from their native land.
Gerush. Expulsion.
Goy. Non-Jew.
Kosher. Meats slaughtered according to and satisfying the
ritual requirements.
Kol Bo. Encyclopedia.
Kol Nidre. The eve of the Day of Atonement; so called from
the opening words of a prayer recited at the beginning
of the service.
Lamdan. A learned man.
Machzor. Prayer-book.
Maarib. The evening service.
Makhnise rachamim. A cabalistical prayer petitioning the
mediation of the angels.
Meshowes. Cheap, trashy goods.
Minhag askenaz. The ritual according to the German Jews.
GLOSSARY 359
Minhag polen. The ritual according to the Polish Jews.
Minchah. The afternoon service.
Mi-sheberakh. A special blessing pronounced in the syna-
gogue.
Mishnah. The great collection of laws compiled by Rabbi
Judah the Prince, in the second century after the Chris-
tian era.
Mitzwoth. The custom used to be general in Jewish houses
of worship, and still holds in orthodox congregations,
to sell to the highest bidder certain religious functions
connected with the religious worship. These functions
are called mitzwoth.
Minhag. Ritual.
Morena. The rabbinical title.
Motzi. Grace before meals.
‘shabed. The congregational servant.
M’shagga. Crazy.
'shammad. Apostate.
M’zuzah (plur. m'zazoth). Literally, “door-post.” Small rolls
of parchment encased in a receptacle and fastened to
the door-post of the house. The m'zuzah contains the
passages, Deut. vi., 4–9, and xi, I3-21.
Nach’mu. See Sabbath mach’mu.
Nebarekh leſohena. “Let us give praise to our God;” the
opening words of the grace after meals.
Nebbich. An expression of pity or commiseration.
Parnass. President.
Pipal. Talmudical dialectics.
Piatim. Liturgical poems.
Posal. Forbidden.
Parokheth. The curtain of the ark containing the scrolls of
the law.
Qatzin. A rich man.
Qinnoth. Lamentations.
Q'riah. The custom of rending a garment at funerals.
360 IsAAC M. WISE
Rambam. Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (II35–1204), the greatest
of the Jewish mediaeval philosophers; the name Ram-
bam is formed from the initials of his title and name.
Rashi. Rabbi Solomon Yitzchaqi of Troyes (IO40–IIo5), the
greatest of Jewish commentators; the name Rashi is
formed from the initials of his title and name.
Rishath. Prejudice.
Rosh hashanah. New Year's Day.
R’shuth. Permission. In the preliminary formula of the
grace after meals it is customary for the reciter of the
grace to say with the permission of , and to men-
tion the names of the guests.
Sabbath Chazon. The Sabbath preceding Tishah Ö’ab, the
fast-day commemorative of the destruction of Jerusa-
lem. This Sabbath received its name from the first
word of the first chapter of Isaiah, the prophetical sec-
tion read on that day in the synagogue as the haftarah.
Sabbath Nach’ma. The Sabbath of consolation; the Sabbath
following Zishah 6'ab. This Sabbath received its name
from the first word of the fortieth chapter of Isaiah, the
prophetical section read on that day in the synagogue
as the haftarah.
Sefer hachayim. The Book of Life—a euphemism; being the
title of the volume containing the rules and regulations
to be observed in case of death.
Shacharith. The morning service.
Shalom alekhem. “Peace be upon you!” The formula of
greeting or salutation.
Shamash. Sexton. *
Shir Tziyon. “The Song of Zion;” a collection by Sulzer, the
great composer of synagogal music.
Shiur. “Shiur lernen” was the jargon term used to desig-
nate the custom of reading and explaining passages
from books of Hebrew 1ore, on important occasions,
such as the anniversary of a death, the evenings of cer-
tain holidays, the dedication of a new home, etc.
Shlemihl. An awkward fellow.
Sh’loach Manoth. The sending of gifts.
GLOSSARY 361
Shmad. Conversion.
Shnoder. The sums given by worshipers in the synagogue in
payment for the “honors” connected with the public
worship, or as a thank-offering. The word is derived
from the Hebrew madar, “to vow.”
Shochet. Slaughterer.
Shulchan Arukh. The code compiled by Rabbi Joseph Caro,
and accepted by orthodox Jews as the norm of authority.
Sidrah. The weekly portion read from the Pentateuch in the
Synagogue.
Simchath forah. “The Day of Rejoicing in the Law;” a rab-
binical holiday celebrated on the twenty-third of Tishri,
the day following the closing day of the Feast of Tab-
ernacles.
Sºlichoth. Supplications.
Sºroress. The nobility.
Tallith. Praying shawl.
Tana’im. The title applied to the Jewish teachers and author-
ities in Palestine from Io to 220 after the Christian era.
Targamim. The Aramaic translations of the Bible.
Tº fillin. Phylacteries.
Tishah 6'ab. The ninth day of Ab, a fast-day commemorative
of the destruction of Jerusalem. s
Tola. Christ.
Tºrefah. Forbidden thing.
Tzelem. Cross.
Tzitzith. Fringes on the praying shawl.
Yad hachazaqah. The code of Talmudical laws made by
Moses Maimonides (II35–I2O4).
Yahnyeit. Anniversary of death.
Yºgam Pargan. A prayer for the Resh Gºlužha or exilareh
and the heads of the Babylonian Academies.
Yigdal. A hymn sung at the close of the service; it gives, in
poetical form, the thirteen articles of the so-called
Maimonidean creed.
Yom tob. Holiday.
PAGE
ABARBANEL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I94
Abraham, Lewis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234
Acher. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
Adler (Philadelphia).... 178ff, 192
Adler, Liebman. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3O3
Ahazeath Achim congregation.343
Albo, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61, I48
Americanization of Jews. . . . . . 33I
Anshe Emeth congregation,
60, 172, 207, and passim
Anshe Maaraö congregation,
298, 299
Apion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
Aqiba, Rabbi... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
Arnold, Dr. A. B. . . . . . . . . . . .... 23O
As monean The........ I62, 200,
and passim
Atheism . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272, 302, 327
Aub Abraham. . . . . . . . . . . . 234, 309
BACHYA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I94
Backhaus, Prof. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Io'7
Bar Kokhba. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
Beck, Dr. . . . . . . . . . . . . I38, I86, 203
Beckel, Joseph. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I75
Belmont, August... . . . . . . . . . . . 177
Benjamin, Judah P.. 184, 187 ff, 195
Beruriah...................... 335
Beth Din. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50, 55
Bethel congregation, ........ 73,
and passim
Blattner, Henry. . . . . 33, 88, I 16,
I25, 206
PAGE
Bloch, Edward... . . . .252, 292, 293
Bloch, Joseph... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
Bloom, Nathan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
B'nai El congregation...... 295 fſ
B’ne Brith . . . . . . . . . . . I98, 263,265
B’ne Israel congregation. .247,
and passim
B’ne Peshurun, congregation,
233, and passim
Bodenstab, Dr. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Boerne, Ludwig... . . . . . . . . . . . . 269
Brandeis, Ludwig. . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
Braun, Rabbi in Baltimore.... 181
Burkhardt, Prussian Consul... 281
Bush, Isidor.............. 293, 295
CALHOUN, John C.. . . . . . . . . . . . I32
Campbell, Dr. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . II2
Carter, Judge. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • .325
Carmoly, B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2O7
Cass, Lewis... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I33
Central Conference of Ameri-
can Rabbis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IO
Chase, Saltnon P. . . . . . . . . 325, 327
Chazam, The.............. 45, 223
Choir, Mixed in Synagogue,
52, II2'ff, 258ff, 309
Clafflin, Tennie C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
Cleveland Conference. . . . . . 307,
312 ff, 320 fſ
Cohn, a teacher. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324
Cohn, Dr. Elkan. . . . . . . . . . 308, 312
Cohn, Jacob. . . . . . . . . . . . . . IOI, II6
363
364 INDEx
PAGE PAGE
Cohn, Joseph. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I7 || Greeley, Horace. . . . . . I76, 200, 225
Conversion of Jews, Society Greenebaum. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3I4.
for . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63, 272 | Guenzberg, Rabbi........ 181, 308
Cook, Madame................. 48
Creseas. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6I HALE, Senator. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I35
Harris, Senator. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
DEAN, Amos. ...58 ff, 76, 81, 169, IIar Sinai congregation... 181,
I85, 205, 227 I82, 183
Deborah, The... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29, Hazen. : :::::::::::... . . . . . . 59, 7O
Diaz. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . & Hebrew Union College.........to
Douglas, Stephen A. . . . . . . . . . I33 Heidelbach, Philip . . . . . . . 277, 283
Heine. . . . . . . I48, 172, 268, 323, 328
EICHBERG, Frederick. . . . . . . . . 259 Herder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
Eichthal, VOf1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25, 55 Herod . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 307
E1senmenger. . . . . . . . . . . . . 274, 321 Holdheim, S 148, 207
Bºmazzºte! congregation. . . . . . . . 22 Huebsch, Adolf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 346
Hulseman, Chevalier. . . . . . . . . I39
FALKENAU . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23|Hungarian Society............ I59
Family Pews. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2I2 Hurt, W. S. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9, 356
Fechheimer, Marcus...... °49, 254 ILLowy, Rabbi....... 220, 230, 308
Felsen held. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * 59 | Irving, Washington........... 2I5
Fillmore, Millard ... 135, 183, 186ff Isaacs, S. M............... 28, 220
Frankel, Cantor. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178| Israelite, The..266ff, and passim
Frankel, Zacharias. . . . . . . . . . . 2O7
Freeman’s Hall. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 JESUS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2O7
IFreund, Elias and Rosa. . . . . . . 3OI Jews, attacks on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272
I'reund, Maicr... . . . . . . . . . I62, 213 in Albany........ 32, 42 ft,
Friedlander, A. J. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 and passimt
Friedman, Solomon... . . . . . . . . 254 in America before 1848...71
Friends of Light. . . . . . . . . . . . 90, 91 in Baltimore... 181 ff, 287 ff,
317 ff
GEIGER, Abraham. . . . . . . . . . . . I48 in Charleston, S. C. . . I42 ff
German Literary Society. . Ioff, 209 in Chicago. . . . . . . 294, 297 ff
Germans in America in 1848... Ioë in Cincinnati........ 233,
Glauber, Herman. . . . . . . . . . 48, IO7 and passim
Glueckauf, Samuel... . . . . . . . . . . 26 in Cleveland. . . . . . . . . . . . 239
Goethe........... * * * * * * * * IoI, 228 in Davenport, Ia. . . . . . . . 297
Goodheart, Jacob. . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 in Detroit. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303
Goodheart, Wolf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 in Indianapolis. . . . . . . . . 294
Gotthelf, Rabbi... . . . . . . . . . . . . 3I5 in Keokuk, Ia. . . . . . . . . . 297
Graetz, H. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2O7 in Louisville...... 87, 285,
Gratz, Rebecca. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2I5 294, 349
INDEx
PAGE
Jews, in Milwaukee. . . . . . . . . . . 3OO
in New Haven. . . . . . . . . . . 27
in New York. ... 20 fſ, 299,
317 ff
in Philadelphia... 129, 178ff
in Quincy, Ill........... 297
in Rock Island, I11...... 297
in St. Louis........... 294 ff
in Terre Haute, Ind. . . .294
in Wheeling, W. Va..... 286
Joachinson, Judge............. 30
Jose ben Joezer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337
Josephus Flavius . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
Jost, I. M. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I94.
Judeophobia. . . . . . . . . . . I6, 331, 333
Junkerman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324
RAISER, Mrs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
Kalisch, Isidor... .239, 283, 308,
3I2, 3I5, 319, 34O, 343
Kant. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . FOI
Kennedy, Bishop. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
Kings, Chinese. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323
Kipp, Bishop. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
Kley, R. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I48
Knownothingism... . . . . . . 287, 309
Kohlmeyer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2O, 50
Kreuzer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
Erochmal, Nachman. . . . . . . . . . 2O7
LAUER, L. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289
Leeser, Isaac. . . .51, 55 ff, 61, 62,
78ff, 84, 86, 91, 121 ff, 129 ff,
I78ff, 193, 269, 279 ff, 290, 312
Lehrmayer, Moritz. . . . . . . . . 2O, I77
Levi, Solomon............ 24O, 242
Lewi, Isidor.................. I74
Lewi, Joseph. . . . . . . . . . . . . IOO, I73
Liberati ...................... Io'7
Lilienthal, Max. ... 19, 21 ff, 27,
29, 50, 62, 86, 91, 128, 177, 198,
2Io, 269, 283, 290, 293, 308,
3I2, 3I4, 319, 32 I, 324
PAGE
Lilienthal, Peppie............. 2O
Lindheim, John................ 17
Louis Philippe................. 81
Luzzatto, S. D. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2O7
Lyons, Robert. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2OI f
MCALL. . . . . . . . . . . . . • * * * * * 272, 32I
Mack, Henry....... . . . . . . 237, 305
Mack, M. J. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
Maimonides College........., 29O
Maimonides, Moses . . . .8o, I48,
I94, 207, 344
Mannheimer, I. N. . . . . . . . . . . . 148
Marrow, Thomas B........... I59
Masons. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
Maury, Lieut.... . . . . . . . . . I84, 187
May, Mrs. Benj. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I4.
Mayer, Elias... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234.
Mayer, Moritz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198
Mayer, Nathan . . . . . . . . . . . 333, 345
Meir, Rabbi ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
Mendelssohn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I94
Merzbacher, Leo..... 23, 25, 86,
IOI, 308, 312, 313 ff, 34o
Messiah, Belief in. . . . . . . . I49, 23O
Messianic Passages in Bible. .222
Mexican War. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I8
Miller, Jacob L. . . . . . . . . . . 23I, 309
Miller, M. R. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
Minhag America. . . .50, 55, 315,
343 ff
Miracles. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I22
Missionaries. . . . . . . 272, 3Io, 34off
Moos, H. M. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337
Moses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
Moses, Henry. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2O
Moses, Hyman... . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
Moses, Marx. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
Müller, F. Max. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IOO
Munk, S. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2O7
NAUMBERG . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
Newman, S. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ö3, Ö4
366
INDEX
4 PAGE
Niagara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
Noah, Mordecai M. . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
Novels, Jewish. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27o
Noyoth, a school. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279
Nussbaum, Morenu. . . . . . . . . . . . 23
OCCIDENT, The..28, and passim
Odd Fellows. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Oken, Lorenz. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
Omnibus Bill. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I33
Organ in the Synagogue. . .213,
281, 309
PAINE, Thomas... . . . . . . . . . . . . 229
Parker, Judge. . . . . . . . . . . . . 76, 169
Parker, Theodore. . . . . . I23, 187,
23O, 231
Parmass, The... . . . . . . . . . . . 5I, IO2
Peckham, Rufus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
Philippson, Ludwig. . I30, 238, 320
Polk, James K. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
Portuguese Jews. . . . . . . . . . 215, 216
Poznanski, G. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I42
Protests zºs. Cleveland Confer-
efice. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317, 318
RADNITZ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I3
Raphall, M. J. . . . . . I28, 131, I4I,
I45ff, I53, 220, 22I
Rappaport, S. L. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2O7
Reggio, J. S. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2O7
Reiss, Abraham . . . . . . . . . . . 98, 182
Rénan, Ernst. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IOO
Republican Party. . . . . . . . . . . . . 327
Riesser, Gabriel .............. 337 ff
Rodef Shalom congregation,
178ff
Rothenheim, Dr. . .293, 308, 319,
32I, 324
SAADIA. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I93
PAGE
Schelling. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
Schiller. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IIO
Schloss, Moses. . . . 29, 32, 33, 52,
81, 88, II2, I52
Schmidt, Dr. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266, 292
Schoolcraft, Member of Con-
greSS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I37, 209
Schutz7ude... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I7, 83
Scott, Walter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2I5
Seckel Loeb Michelstadt, Reb.
276
Secret Orders. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
Seward, Frederick............ I59
Seward, Wm. H. . . .83, 133, 134,
184, 225
Simpson, Simon M. . . . . . . . . . . I75
Sinai, a magazine............ 318
Smith, Gottlieb......... 82, 88, 95
Smith, Marianne......... 199, 290
Spanier, Louis. . . . . . . I52, I55 fſ,
I63, 172, 205
Spinoza . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I94, 229
Sporterg, Joseph. . . .33, 52, IoI,
162, 172
Stein, Leopold........... 238, 320
Stern, Maier............ tº º ºs e º e I62
Stix, Lena. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24I
Streeter, librarian. . . . . . 59, 99, I23
Sulzer, S. . . . . . . . . . 51, 52, 213, 260
Synod. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3I2, 3I4, 315
Szold, B . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 346
TALMID YELODIM Institute,
237, and passim
Talmud................. tº e º e º is I90
attacks on....... 272, 32O
defense of..... 273, 321 ff
Taylor, editor of the Times. . . .281
Taylor, Zachary. . . . . . . . 135 ff, 183
Topp, musician...... . . . . . . . . . . 52
Townsend, General........... 167
Traub, cantor. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
INDEX 367
Westheimer, Abraham . . . .52, IIo
PAGE PAGE
Turnus Rufus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335 | Wise, David.................. 259
Tuska, Simon. . . . . . . . . . . . 252, 333 || Wise, Henry.... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287
Wise, Laura. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I24
UNION of Congregations..... IO, Wise, Leo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 286
86ff, 307, 312 || Woman in the Synagogue... .212
Unitarianism. . . . . . . . . . . . . I84, 188 || Wood, Chief Justice. ...58ff, 98,
II9, 123, 168, 174
VEDAs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90, 323 || Wood, Theophilus. . . . . 58, 99, II5
Voltaire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 | Wykoff, Dr.......... 65 fſ, I21, 218
WALTER, J. D. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20, 29 || ZEND Avesta. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323
Warburton. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 || Zion College...... 286, 289, 299,
Wasserman, Leopold. . . . . . . . . . 27 305, 306, 324 f, 327, 334
Webster, Daniel. . . . . . . . 58, I33, Zion Collegiate Association,
137 ff, 183 ff 285, 315, 325
Weill, Alexander . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 || Zunz, Leopold............ I48, 207
NIV
Ili
iii
3 9015
|
III.
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