precedented revolution; that the difference between the Mendelssohnian
generation and the next following was almost as great as that between
the modern American Jew and his brother in the Orient. No wonder, also,
that when Haskalah finally took root in Russia, it was purely German for
fifty years and more; that Nicholas's vigorous attempts, instead of
making the Slavonic Jews better Russians, merely helped to make those he
"re-educated" greater admirers of Germany. The most puissant autocrat of
Russia unwittingly contributed to the downfall of Russian autocracy, and
Gregori Peretz, the Dekabrist, son of the financier who became converted
under Alexander I, was the first of those who were to endeavor, with
book and bomb, to break the backbone of tyranny under Nicholas II.[25]

Till about the "sixties," then, the Russo-Jewish Maskilim were the
recipients, and the German Jews were the donors. The German Jews wrote,
the Russian Jews read. Germany was to the Jewish world, during the early
Haskalah movement, what France, according to Guizot, was to Europe
during the Renaissance: both received an impetus from the outside in the
form of raw ideas, and modified them to suit their environment. Berlin
was still, as it had been during the days of Mendelssohn and Wessely,
the sanctuary of learning, the citadel of culture. In the highly
cultivated German literature they found treasures of wisdom and science.
The poetical gems of Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, and Herder captivated
their fancy; the philosophy of Kant and Fichte, Schelling and Hegel
nourished their intellect. Kant continued to be the favorite guide of
Maimon's countrymen, and in their love for him they interpreted the
initials of his name to mean "For my soul panteth after thee."[26]

But more efficacious than all other agencies was Mendelssohn's German
translation of the Bible, and the _Biur_ commentary published therewith.
Renaissance and Reformation, those mighty, revolutionary forces, have
entered every country by side-doors, so to say. The Jewish Pale was no
exception to the rule. What Wycliffe's translation did for England, and
Luther's for Germany, Mendelssohn's did for Russian Jewry. Like the
Septuagint, it marked a new epoch in the history of Jewish advancement.
It is said that Mendelssohn's aim was chiefly to show the grandeur of
the Hebrew poetry found in the Bible, but by the irony of fate his
translation displayed to the Russian Jew the beauty and elegance of t