independent fortune mustered up courage to send their children to the Gymnasium or to the higher Christian schools, of which, to be sure, not a large number existed at the time. In 1824 the state interfered, and ordered the establishment of German elementary schools in all the Jewish communities of the Province giving evidence of vitality. The situation now assumed a peculiar aspect. General culture, acquaintance with the classic literature of Germany, France, and England, came to be esteemed an accomplishment and a personal charm; yet beyond the three R’s the rising generation was not given the opportunity of acquiring a general education. On the contrary, the desire was to limit study to that of rabbinic and Hebrew writings. In the larger communities, like Posen and Lissa, the centers of Talmud study, a conscious effort was made to frighten off young people, especially Talmud disciples, from the acquisition of secular culture. It should be mentioned, however, that in many of the smaller communities the longing for education was encouraged as much as possible. So it came about that the highly endowed, ambitious spirits of that generation in the Province had to struggle most bitterly and painfully to make headway. But their hardships were counterbalanced by the advantages they derived from the conflict. Their intellectual energy and self-reliance came forth from the contest steeled. Impregnated as almost all of them were with the spirit of the Talmud, they had pierced to its essence, and, filled with enthusiasm for the rabbinical heroes, they had breathed in devotion to the ideals of Judaism.

This was the soil upon which Heinrich Graetz grew up, and such were the conditions and agencies moulding the development of a man destined to create an historical work, at once monumental and popular; embracing thousands of years, the most widely separated regions, and the most diversified fields of human activity; retracing with all the resources of learning and ingenuity the magic, faded, illegible characters of the evolution of Judaism, and illuminating them with colors of fairy-like brilliance;--an historical work, which, by reason of the warmth of its narrative style, has come to be a book of edification, in the best sense of the word, unto the author’s brethren-in-faith.

Heinrich Hirsch Graetz was born October 31 (Cheshwan 21), 1817, in Xions (pronounced Kshons), a wretched little village of 775 inhabitants in the eastern part of the Province of Posen. In a family of two brothers and one sister he was the first-born. His father, Jacob Graetz, was a man of tall stature, who, dying in 1876, reached an age of over ninety years. His mother, Vogel, of the family of Hirsch of Wollstein, was of average height and robust physique, with lustrous gray eyes. She died in 1848 only fifty odd years old. To her the son showed most resemblance, both spiritually and physically. A little butcher-shop yielded them an honest but paltry livelihood. In the hope of improving their material condition, the family removed to Zerkow, a few miles off, some years after Heinrich’s birth. At the time the village contained not more than 800 inhabitants, among them a single person able to read, a real estate owner, to whom all letters were carried to be deciphered on the open street in solemn public assembly.2 But the Jewish congregation consisted of one hundred members, and a remarkable increase in the population of the little town seemed to give fair promise of a prosperous future. It is worthy of mention, besides, that the scenery of Zerkow, wreathed round with hill and stream, forest and meadow, is not so flat and unattractive as that of most parts of the Province.

Here the boy received his first impressions, and here he enjoyed his first instruction in a school distinguishable from a genuine Cheder only inasmuch as it began in a measure to accommodate itself to the modest demands made by the government upon a Jewish primary school. He was taught reading, writing, ciphering, and the translation of the Bible. Great love of study and marked talent became apparent in him; he was therefore introduced to a knowledge of Hebrew and the Talmud. When he was confirmed at thirteen, the age at which the boys of that period were in the habit of deciding definitely on their careers, his parents did not for a moment question the propriety of continuing their son’s intellectual training. It would have been most natural to send him to Posen, where a popular Talmud school was flourishing under the direction of the highly esteemed Chief Rabbi Akiba Eger. But his parents’ means were too slender to suffice for his maintenance, and shyness and pride prevented young Graetz from making his way after the fashion of beggar students. There was but one course, to send him to Wollstein, where his mother had sisters and other relatives. Though by no means possessed of great wealth, they were willing to give him assistance. The Wollstein sojourn proved eminently favorable to his development. The town, situated in the western part of the Province, was not destitute of natural charms, to which the boy’s impressionable mind eagerly responded. The population, chiefly German, numbered 2258 persons, among them 841 Jews,3 by no means an inconsiderable congregation. Besides, it was in fairly comfortable circumstances. It had always taken pride in maintaining a Talmud school, which, at the time of Graetz’s advent, was distinguished for the liberal, enlightened spirit pervading it and the active encouragement accorded its students in their desire for culture. Rumor had it that the rabbi, Samuel Samwel Munk, who had been called from Bojanowo to Wollstein at the beginning of the century, knew how to read and write German, and was in the habit of reading German books and even journals in the hours that are “neither day nor night.” At all events, he did not put obstacles in their way, when his disciples, spurring each other on in the impetuous rivalry of youth for pre-eminence, sought to slake their thirst for secular knowledge.

Graetz arrived in Wollstein at the end of the summer of 1831, fourteen years old. At that youthful age, the Bachur had ventured to undertake, in a Hebrew far from perfect, it must be confessed, a work on the calendar entitled, “חשבון העתים {Hebrew: Cheshbon Ha’itim}, Jewish and German Chronology.”4 He was a zealous attendant upon the rabbi’s Talmudic lectures, and derived great profit from them. His teacher conceived a lively and kind interest in him, as well as a high opinion of his ability, though he did not suspect his future eminence. Rabbinic studies did not occupy his mind to the exclusion of other pursuits. Inextinguishable thirst for knowledge had taken possession of him, and all books that fell in his way were read with avidity. Most of the available literature consisted of romances of chivalry, of the kind in vogue at that time. Among them “Raspo of Felseneck,” now completely forgotten, made a particularly deep impression upon him. Reproved by one of his patrons, and provided with more suitable books by him, he read with keen enjoyment Campe’s narrative and moral writings. At the same time historical books began to attract him strongly. Though he