eft an impression, some greater, some
less, upon his plastic soul. It was there and then, in the congenial
company of friends of about his own age, that Levinsohn determined to
devote himself to improving the educational system of his people and
began to plan his work on _Learning in Israel_ (_Te'udah be-Yisrael_),
which procured for its author the foremost place in the history of the
Haskalah movement.

The book was finished in 1823, but, owing to Levinsohn's pecuniary
circumstances, it remained unpublished till 1828. Meanwhile it
circulated in manuscript among the leading Maskilim of Russia, Austria,
and Germany, and established its author's reputation wherever it was
read. Levinsohn was one of those who understand the persuasive power of
the still small voice of sweet reasonableness. He knew that a few
convincing arguments couched in gentle language will accomplish more for
the furtherance of an ideal than the trumpet call of a hundred clamoring
militants, and Haskalah will make headway only when it can prove itself
to be a help, and not a hindrance, to religion. Accordingly, he aimed to
show that the Tanaim, Amoraim, Saboraim, Geonim, and rabbis of later
generations were versed in the sciences, were familiar with foreign
history, and interested in the affairs of the world. But these he quotes
only as exemplars of broad-mindedness, they must no longer be regarded
as authorities in secular knowledge. "Art and science," he says, "are
steadily progressing.... To perfect ourselves in them we must resort to
non-Jewish sources." This was a bold statement for those times, however
mildly expressed. The _Te'udah_ became a bone of contention. It was torn
and burnt by fanatics, exalted to the skies by friends. The new apostle
of enlightenment was forced to leave the city and reside for a while in
Berdichev, Nemirov, Ostrog, and Tulchin. But wherever he went, his
tribulation was sweetened by the enthusiasm of his admirers and the
consciousness that his toil was not entirely wasted. In Warsaw and in
Vilna his name was great, and Nicholas presented him with a thousand
rubles as a mark of appreciation of the book, the fly-leaf of which
bears the inscription "To science."

In the midst of his more serious studies Levinsohn diverted himself
occasionally with lighter composition, in which many an antiquated
custom served as the butt for his biting satire. In his youth he had a
penchant for poetry, and his poem on the flight, or expul